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junghelioseok · 1 year ago

Text

miss taken.

↳ you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ fluff | smut | teacher!au | single parent!au | e2l ◇ 20.3k [1/1]

❛❛ our kids are bitter rivals and the only time we ever meet is when we’re both called to the principal’s office and whatever maybe i think you’re kind of cute but your kid’s a monster and ALSO someone keeps buying the last everything bagel at my favorite coffee shop 2 minutes before i get there in the morning and has heard about my plight and has started leaving me bragging notes about it ❜❜

notes: fic number two in the serendipity series is here at last!!! this took me like a million and a half years to finish because Real Life happened but here we finally are! also, i changed the type of bagel that the story is centered around, because i honestly didn’t come to like everything bagels until relatively recently and i will still only eat it if it’s part of a bagel sandwich because? just having cream cheese or whatever on an everything bagel feels kind of unhinged to me! but that’s neither here nor there and no one is here for my bagel opinions so! hope you enjoy the story!!! 💕

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dilf!jk, some kissing and hand stuff, ✨sexual tension✨ but nothing too terribly explicit tbh

Silence has never sounded louder.

You drum your fingers against the armrest of your chair, nails clacking against the cheap plastic. On the wall, the second hand of the clock completes yet another revolution, and you glance over when your companion sighs, plucks off her reading glasses, and sets them down on the desk beside the placard that houses her title: Principal Pamela Baker, Hybe Academy.

A woman nearing her fifties, Pam has sandy blonde hair cut into a neat bob and an enviable ability to pull off any lipstick color, no matter how bold. You’re lucky enough to call her both a friend and a mentor, and when she mutters a curse under her breath, you chuckle. “Late again,” she huffs, offering you a wry smile before leaning back in her seat and casting her gaze skyward. “Typical.”

“You know what these corporate types are like, Pam,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “They have zero regard for anyone else’s time. He was twenty minutes late to our parent-teacher conference last semester, so don’t take it personally.”

“Believe me, I know plenty of men like Jungkook Jeon,” Pam says with another sigh, this one heavier and longer than the last. “I even married one, you know. But that was before I came to my senses and divorced his ass. Best decision of my life, right after getting my tubes tied.”

“Three kids was enough for you?” you tease, and Pam snorts out a laugh.

“More than enough,” she replies. “What about you, though? Thinking of having another kid anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so… well, not anytime soon, at least. Ask me again in—”

The sound of a doorknob turning stops you in your tracks, and a moment later, the door to the office swings open with a dull click.

“Principal Baker. Miss {L/N}.” Jungkook Jeon is standing at the threshold in a wool coat the color of charcoal, the buttons of which are undone to reveal the undoubtedly designer suit underneath. His dark hair is parted neatly across his forehead, still sprinkled with lingering snowflakes from his journey here, and you bite back the urge to remark on his tardiness. Instead, you stand when your boss stands up, mustering up every ounce of professionalism you possibly can.

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing to the empty chair beside you. “It’s nice to see you again. Please, take a seat.”

You incline your head in Jungkook’s direction as he lowers himself into the plastic chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor in protest as he adjusts his position. “Hello, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for finally joining us.”

If Jungkook notices the snarky inflection of your tone, he doesn’t let it show. He merely levels you with a cool gaze, blinking lazily before turning to your boss. “Excuse my tardiness,” he says, smoothing down the lapels of his black jacket and straightening his slate blue tie. “I got here as fast as I could. Where is my daughter?”

Pam gestures toward the door. “Daeun is down the hall in the library, under Mr. Kim’s supervision. I thought it best if we spoke without the children first.”

The dark-haired man hums. “What happened, Principal? You were rather vague on the phone.”

Pam nods, and you exchange looks before she turns her attention back to Jungkook. “Yes, well, as I explained on the phone, there was an incident. Daeun forcefully took her classmate’s book during the free reading period, and refused to return it when asked.”

At that, Jungkook casts you another glance. “I see. And I presume the classmate was Miss {L/N}’s daughter?”

“It was,” you confirm, taking care to keep your tone even despite the irritation simmering in your belly. “This is the second time Trixie’s been targeted by your daughter, Mr. Jeon. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his lips twisting into a displeased frown. “I'm not sure I like what you’re implying, Miss {L/N}.”

The iciness in his voice is unmistakable, but you have fifteen minutes’ worth of annoyance festering in your belly—annoyance that has amplified with every second that he made you wait. That, combined with his behavior last semester is enough to stir that annoyance into full-blown anger. He’s been short with you every time you’ve called to talk about his daughter’s progress in class, and you very nearly canceled his eight o’clock appointment to meet with you during December’s parent-teacher conferences. You remember pulling up his contact information nineteen minutes after eight, thumb hovering over the call button on your phone when he finally burst into your classroom. No preamble, and no apology. He just sat down, as if nothing was amiss, and began asking about Daeun’s grades in math.

It’s no wonder you’ve never heard so much as a word about a Mrs. Jeon. The nosy part of your brain wonders about Jungkook’s home life on occasion, and the more vindictive part relishes in the fact that he’s no doubt a single parent. Any woman would have to be a saint to put up with Jungkook Jeon, you reason, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s the devil.

The devil dressed in head-to-toe Armani, who is currently fixing you with a look that could temper steel.

“Mr. Jeon.” Pam, as always, is quick to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled over her office. “No one is implying anything here. We just want to have a frank, civil discussion about Daeun’s behavior, and see if you can think of anything that may be causing her to act out. A recent change in her life, perhaps? Something new that she hasn’t quite adjusted to yet?”

You take a deep breath, releasing it through your nose before putting your professional mask back on. “Her shift in behavior was extremely sudden,” you chime in, watching out of the corner of your eye as Pam inclines her head in agreement. “Laughing when Trixie and another classmate slipped and fell on the ice, and now this? I don’t believe for a minute that this change came out of nowhere—something must have caused it. Daeun is a smart girl, Mr. Jeon. She’s outgoing and a little rambunctious, but she’s always been kind to her classmates in the past. Today’s behavior was incredibly out of character for her.”

A beat of silence passes, as your words fade into silence. Then Jungkook shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he turns his full attention to you. “We keep talking about Daeun as if she was the only child involved in this incident, Miss {L/N}. Why don’t we talk about your daughter instead? Trixie, is it?”

And just like that, your mask begins to splinter at the edges. “Trixie was reading quietly at the table when Daeun approached her,” you reply coolly. “She didn’t instigate anything, Mr. Jeon.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Jungkook huffs out a humorless chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “I think you, of all people, might be a little bit biased.”

Fury flares in your belly, hot and bright. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon,” you manage between clenched teeth. “I care about all of my students equally, and treat them as such. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but your boss stops him before he can utter a single syllable. “I think that’s enough for today,” Pam says, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk to shake Jungkook’s hand. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chest, and you would have laughed at the height disparity if it weren’t for the rage still bubbling through your veins. “Like I said before, the girls are just down the hall with Mr. Kim. If you’ll follow me…”

Pam ushers Jungkook out of the office, chattering mindlessly about the cafeteria renovations that are underway—funded in large part by Jungkook himself, you’re certain. As much as you’ve grown to dislike the man, you know that he cares deeply about education and donates a rather large sum to your school every year. Trailing after them by a few paces, you listen as Pam points out a row of plaques hanging on the wall, honoring distinguished students and teachers alike.

The library, when you reach it, is empty save for three figures seated at one of several rectangular tables that occupy the middle of the room. Taehyung Kim, the copper-haired librarian, springs out of his seat upon your arrival, and you wave tiredly as he approaches with a warm, affable grin.

“Welcome!” Taehyung says, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before extending a hand for Jungkook to shake. “You must be Daeun’s dad. I’m Taehyung Kim, the librarian here at Hybe.”

“Jungkook Jeon.” Then Jungkook’s gaze flits past him to where the two children are seated opposite one another. Daeun is a slender, petite girl with dark hair braided neatly down her back and round, brown eyes that are narrowed in concentration as she colors in a picture of a lion. Quietly, Jungkook strides over to his daughter, kneeling down beside her chair until he’s eye-level. “Hey, Daeun,” you hear him murmur. “What happened today, hmm?”

You, meanwhile, join your own daughter at the table, sitting down in the chair Taehyung abandoned and taking in the paper and coloring utensils scattered across the surface “Hey, jitterbug,” you murmur. “Were you nice to Mr. Kim while I was gone?”

“Tae read us a book about butterflies,” Trixie replies, shrugging her little shoulders. “He taught us about migration.”

You chuckle. “Migration, huh? That sounds interesting. You want to tell me all about it on the drive home?”

Trixie nods, her pigtails bobbing in time with the movement. Then she glances over to where Jungkook is instructing Daeun to pack up her backpack, tucking books and notebooks neatly inside while Daeun collects her crayons and puts them into a sparkly little pink case. “Are we going home now?”

“Soon, bug,” you promise. “I just have to finish up with Mr. Jeon and Principal Baker, okay?”

“Okay,” Trixie says agreeably, returning to her drawing. Pam gestures for you to join her and Jungkook near the library doors, and you meet Taehyung’s gaze as you brush past where he’s pulling a few books down for a display. Good luck, he mouths, and you suppress the urge to make a face. Instead, you mouth a quick thanks back, offering Daeun a quick smile as well before joining her father and your boss at the door.

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, casting a surreptitious glance toward Daeun and Trixie before lowering her voice. “I don’t think you should ignore this behavior from your daughter. If there’s something in her home life that is making her act out, I can recommend a few counselors who would be more than happy to speak with the two of y—”

Jungkook shakes his head, a lock of dark hair coming loose from whatever gel he’s used to style it. “With all due respect, Principal Baker, I don’t appreciate my parenting abilities being called into question. I think it’s probably best if Daeun and I take our leave.”

Pam sighs. “Mr. Jeon, I don’t mean to offend. But Daeun did take a book out of Trixie’s hands.”

“And I’ll be sure to discipline her for that,” Jungkook replies. “But if this is all over a book, Principal, I think the solution is simple. I can easily buy her whatever book she needs.”

“I’m not so sure it’s about the book itself,” you point out. “Tae—I mean, Mr. Kim—has multiple copies of Charlotte’s Web available for the students.”

Jungkook hums and turns up the collar of his wool coat, pulling it snug around his throat. “Nonetheless, I think we’re done here. Daeun, we’re leaving.”

The six-year-old looks up from the book Taehyung has checked out for her and immediately runs over to grab her father’s extended hand. “Are we going home?” she asks quietly, and he nods.

“Yeah, we are, sweetheart. Come on. Say bye to your teachers.”

Obediently, Daeun waves to you and Taehyung before bidding Pam goodbye as well. Jungkook offers you a stiff nod, and Pam resignedly offers to walk the duo out. They depart together, and you watch as they disappear around the corner of the hall before turning to Taehyung with a heavy sigh. Trixie is still engrossed in her coloring, and you lower your voice as you join Taehyung where he’s begun re-shelving books from a cart of returns.

“Thank god that’s finally over,” you murmur.

Taehyung glances both ways, ensuring the coast is clear. “Yeah. That Jungkook guy is a total wang.”

///

By the time you pull out of Hybe Academy’s parking lot, rush hour has well and truly begun. Silently, you curse Jungkook’s tardiness as you merge onto the main road and almost immediately come to a complete standstill amongst the traffic. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, you take in the sight of your daughter, buckled neatly into the backseat with her face pressed against the window.

“What color are we looking for today, bug?”

“Red,” she replies, her nose scrunching against the glass. Every day, your daughter picks a color and counts the number of cars she sees in that particular shade. She’s taken to keeping a running tally on the refrigerator—working toward the answer to a research question that only she understands. Her work is accompanied by a variety of figures and diagrams as well, which she’s plastered across the remainder of the refrigerator door and are slowly encroaching on the freezer door as well. You’re pretty sure she’ll need a larger surface soon enough—the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms would probably suffice—but until then, you have no plans to interfere with her creativity. If anything, you sometimes wish you could see the world through a child’s eyes again—to view every new experience as an adventure, and delight in the simple things. It’s one of the many reasons you love working at Hybe, even if you do have to deal with the occasional entitled parent.

Unwillingly, your mind wanders back to Jungkook Jeon. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, even if you’re reluctant to admit it and refuse outright to say it aloud. He’s blessed with the kind of face that angels could rhapsodize about—his dark, expressive eyes set above a strong nose and an enticing mouth. His jawline is sharp as a knife, and you’re fairly certain the devil himself sculpted his thighs. Even beneath the drape of his expensive suits, you can see the definition of his musculature as clearly as if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. You wonder—more often than you’d like to admit—how his workplace hasn’t deemed his suits obscene. Maybe he needs a dress code, you think to yourself, easing off the brake as the cars in front of you begin to inch forward. Baggy clothes only from this point forward. The more skin covered, the better.

“Oooh! Found one!” Trixie exclaims, tapping the glass vigorously. “And look, there’s another. It’s a darker red, though.”

You hum and nod toward the traffic up ahead, where you can glimpse the corner of a cherry red bumper. “What about that one up there? That makes three, right?”

In the mirror, you see your daughter nod. A few minutes pass, the two of you calling out when another red car is spotted, and traffic eventually eases up enough that you can continue your way home.

“So, what did Mr. Kim teach you about butterflies?” you query as you make a right turn. “Something about migration?”

Trixie nods absently, still fixated on the cars driving by in the opposite lane. “Yeah. They go south for the winter to stay warm.”

You glance at her reflection in the mirror again. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah.”

Up ahead, the light turns green. You hit the gas, debating whether to bring up Daeun or not, but your daughter speaks again before you can dwell on it any further.

“It’s weird,” Trixie says, her face still pressed against the window and her breath misting the glass. “Daeun was never mean to me before. We weren’t friends, not really. But now it feels like she’s picking on me on purpose and I don’t know why.”

Something in your chest splinters at the tone of her voice—subdued and small. She’s dragging a finger through the fogged up glass now, tracing the crooked outline of a butterfly, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again.

“We’ll figure it out together, then, jitterbug. Now, why don’t you start thinking about what you want for dinner?”

///

Mornings are always a little chaotic in your home. Trixie is sprinting around the entirety of the two-bedroom apartment looking for her favorite scrunchie, a half-eaten piece of toast clutched in one hand and her backpack swinging from the other. In the kitchen, you’re going through a mental checklist of all the places your daughter could have possibly left the accessory while sipping on your morning coffee. The mug nearly slips from your hand when your pet cat, Taco, slinks past your legs on her way to her food bowl, and you hiss out a sharp curse.

“Fuck!” Hot liquid dribbles down your knuckles. The calico cat gives you an unimpressed look, and you glance both ways to make sure Trixie is out of earshot before wagging a reprimanding finger. “Manners, Taco. You’re better than this.”

Taco merely flicks her tail and turns back to her own breakfast, rebelliously batting her water bowl with a paw before settling down to eat. Sighing, you finish the remainder of your coffee and rinse out the mug, listening as Trixie darts in and begins rummaging through the silverware drawer.

“Bug, I don’t think your scrunchie’s in there,” you remark, earning yourself a shrug in response.

“Can’t be too careful,” she says in a startlingly accurate impression of you, and you can’t decide whether to laugh out loud or roll your eyes. Coming up empty, your daughter runs off again, and you return your attention to your bag, rifling through the folders and assignments within. “Aha!” you hear in the distance, and smile. Trixie comes bounding down the hall a few seconds later with a sparkly holographic scrunchie in hand, and you obligingly help her wind it around her ponytail as she wriggles in place with excitement.

“Ready to go?” you ask once finished, and she nods eagerly. “Have all your homework?” Another nod. “What about those books you have to return to Mr. Kim at the library?”

Trixie heaves a dramatic sigh and fixes you with a look. “Yes, Mom. Can we go now?”

You chuckle and extend your hand for her to take, heaving your bag onto your opposite shoulder. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”

Locking the front door, you and Trixie take the elevator down to the ground floor of the building and exit out into the wintry air. Your car is parked on a nearby side street, and immediately, you see that the windshield is coated in a light layer of frost. Sighing inwardly, you head toward the trunk where you store the ice scraper. Trixie releases your hand when you pop open the lid, and you turn to watch as she skips her way down the sidewalk. “Sure you don’t want a ride to school?” you call.

She stops, her nose wrinkling. “It’s lame to go to school with your teacher, Mom.”

You feign offense, slapping a hand to your heart. “Oh? I’m lame now, am I?”

“Don’t take it personal,” Trixie replies, shrugging. “All adults are kinda lame.”

With that, she waves and darts the rest of the way down the sidewalk, making her way to the bus stop at the end of the block. You watch her go, waiting until she safely joins the other half-dozen kids clustered on the corner beside the stop sign, before turning back to your car and climbing into the driver’s seat.

There’s something calming about your morning commute—something about the low hum of the engine and the whir of wheels against asphalt that soothes your soul. The route downtown is a familiar one, and you navigate it with ease. A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells you that you have just enough time to grab some breakfast, and at the next intersection, you opt to turn left instead of right. Three minutes later, you’re pulling up to your favorite coffee shop in the city, snagging one of the few remaining parking spaces on the street and braving the chill one more time as you head for the brightly painted front door beneath the cheery sign that reads, Bean There, Done That!.

The smell of warm cinnamon and vanilla washes over you as soon as you step inside the coffee shop. There’s a relatively short line, and you pull out your phone as you join it, scrolling through news articles and notifications until you reach the counter. “Good morning, Bonnie,” you greet the middle-aged woman working the cash register, before waving at the man who’s already brewing a fresh espresso in the corner. “Morning, Jin.”

“Hiya, {Name},” Jin replies. As the owner of the shop and a dear friend of yours, he knows your usual order like the back of his hand. “Got your coffee going right now.”

Bonnie smiles at you, nodding as Jin plops your finished drink down and joins her at the counter. “Morning, hun. You’re too late again, I’m afraid. Can I get you something else?”

You glance over at the glass display case where all the baked goods are housed, disappointment sinking into your stomach when you see the empty row in the bagel section. “No cinnamon streusel? Again?”

“Some guy beat you to the last one,” Jin answers as Bonnie rings up your coffee and slides it across the counter into your waiting hands. “Same one as last week, actually. He comes here pretty regularly.”

Your eyes narrow. “You mean the same jerk has taken my bagel three times now? How is it that I haven’t run into him yet?”

“I dunno—dude’s an early riser, I guess. You missed him by about ten minutes this time, but sometimes he’s in here even earlier than that.” Jin shrugs and jabs a thumb toward the back where you can just barely see the kitchen through a small window. “We’ve got more bagels going right now though, if you can wait five minutes.”

The time on your phone’s screen tells you that you cannot. “Sorry,” you tell him. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for school.” Turning, you nod at Bonnie and drop a few bills into the tip jar. “See you both tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Jin pats down his apron pockets and fishes out a crumpled napkin from within. “I almost forgot. The guy—he left a note.”

“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”

Awkwardly, Jin clears his throat. “I, uh, may have let it slip that he kept beating you to the last cinnamon streusel bagel on Friday. And then he asked if he could leave you a note, so….” Uncrumpling the napkin, he extends it toward you. “Here.”

You can’t help it—curiosity roots in your belly and winds its way to your fingers as you carefully accept the note and smooth it out on the countertop.

Better luck next time ;)

“That prick.”

Jin winces. “Yeah, I know. I mean, he does always leave a twenty in the tip jar, but yeah, totally. I’m with you. Guy’s a wang.”

You’re barely listening. Scowling, you fumble for the pen in your purse, taking the napkin that Bonnie wordlessly hands you and scribbling out your own note so fiercely you nearly rip through the papery material.

Game on, mister.

///

The rest of the week seems to drag by, until Friday arrives at long last and shepherds with it stormy gray clouds on the horizon. You’re already feeling rather grumpy—no doubt thanks in part to the collection of snarky napkin notes you’ve accumulated over the past few days—and the sun’s absence only serves to exacerbate your foul mood. Even worse, you had an unfortunate run-in with one Mr. Jungkook Jeon yesterday, meeting with him in the principal’s office following an incident where Daeun took and hid Trixie’s favorite holographic scrunchie. Thankfully, it was recovered quickly, but even now the mere thought of Jungkook Jeon’s stupid, condescending face is enough to tank your mood. Scowling, you lock your car and head in the direction of Bean There, Done That!, carefully eyeing every person who exits in an effort to discern whether they might have purchased a cinnamon streusel bagel and hoping that none of them have snagged the last.

You’re running a full forty-five minutes early today—all in an attempt to beat the damned bagel thief. Half an hour hadn’t been enough—you found that out the hard way yesterday, when Bonnie had greeted you with an apologetic smile and Jin had wordlessly doubled the usual shot of espresso in your coffee without charge. Looking back, your initial attempts to be a mere fifteen minutes earlier were feeble at worst and laughable at best. But today, you think, today will be different.

The bell over the door jingles pleasantly when you step inside the coffee shop, and you immediately deflate when Jin catches your eye and shakes his head. He’s there to greet you when you finally reach the front of the line, and you sigh as you accept the folded napkin he hands over. “He beat me? Again? Does this guy not sleep?”

“He was super early today,” Jin replies with a shrug. Groaning, you unfold the note and smooth it out on the counter, sucking in a breath when you read the words scrawled there.

What’s that saying again? Something about the early bird always getting the worm? ;)

“That fucking asshole,” you grit out. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Testy,” Jin says, clicking his tongue. “What’s got your panties in a bunch today?”

You sigh. “School stuff, mostly. I had to meet with the father of one of my students yesterday, and he’s a real piece of work. And then I was up late grading homework.”

“You could always assign less,” Jin offers up unhelpfully, which earns him a snort and an eye-roll from you. Relenting, he instead begins pouring your coffee, chattering on as the hot liquid splashes into your cup. “So, about this guy’s impending doom. How exactly do you plan on murdering a man when you don’t even know what he looks like?”

“Stop being logical,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Just then, the coffee shop door flies open, letting in a gust of chilly wind. You turn to see Bonnie bustling inside, wearing a bright pink woolen hat and ushering along her eleven-year old son, Caleb. “Hi, hun,” she greets you, her nose scrunching when she sees your frown. “I take it you still haven’t found your mystery bagel man?”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t think I can get DNA off of his notes, so no. I have no idea who this guy is, which means I have no way of tracking him down and giving him a piece of my mind.”

Bonnie tuts sympathetically and pats your arm. “Sorry, hun.” Giving your elbow an affectionate squeeze, she slips past the counter and into the back room to grab her paycheck. Jin finishes up with your drink, and you thank him as you take a long sip. Then you turn to Bonnie’s son, who’s taken a seat in a nearby booth and is doodling on a piece of scrap paper.

“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”

The boy, normally quite talkative, just shrugs. Taken aback, you decide not to press the issue and instead turn back to Jin, who’s wiping down the espresso machine and whistling something that sounds vaguely like “Never Gonna Give You Up” under his breath. Bonnie returns then, and you give her a quizzical glance as she pours herself a to-go cup of coffee and adds two generous pumps of caramel syrup. Is something up with Caleb? you mouth, and watch as confusion flits across her face before realization dawns.

“Don’t worry about him,” she whispers, approaching you so you can hear. “He’s just a little bummed from yesterday. Misspelled ‘serendipity’ in the school spelling bee, and it cost him the win in the end.”

You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Yeah, that sucks real hard,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the espresso machine. “Little guy didn’t even try to steal a cookie from the display like he normally does.”

Bonnie chuckles. “I’ll grab a couple to-go, then—a double chocolate and a snickerdoodle, if you please. But then we’ve really got to head out. School starts in twenty.”

At the reminder, you pull out your phone and glance at the time. “Yeah, I need to leave soon too. Give my best to Caleb, okay? There’s always next year’s spelling bee.” Turning to Jin, you hand over your credit card to pay for the coffee before grabbing a pen and a napkin. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what you want to write, and then another few to scrawl out the note:

Don’t forget, the tortoise always beats the hare in the end.

Straightening up, you hand the napkin over to Jin, who accepts it wordlessly and tucks it into his pocket. And once he’s handed your card back to you, you wave goodbye to both Jin and Bonnie before heading out.

It’s typically a five-minute drive to Hybe Academy from the coffee shop, but this morning, it takes you almost ten. Every red light in the city has seemingly teamed up in order to make you late, and you make it through the door of your classroom with mere minutes to spare. Thankfully, the first bell hasn’t rung yet, and to your surprise, Taehyung is still lounging in your desk chair when you enter the room. The two of you have a longstanding tradition of having breakfast together in the mornings—even if breakfast just turns out to be two extra-large cups of coffee with anywhere between zero and four shots of espresso added in. Taehyung occasionally brings in some of his kitchen experiments as well, and you’ve had to politely decline his offer to share on more than one occasion.

“Hey, there you are!” Taehyung grins and props his feet up onto your desk, crossing one leg over the other. “I was just about to leave.”

“Really? It looks like you’ve made yourself pretty comfortable,” you reply, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing into the chair he’s pulled up beside him. “Must be nice, not having to worry about being on time for first period.”

Taehyung nestles deeper into the back of your chair and lets his eyes drift shut. “Sure is.”

You snort and take a sip of your coffee. “Jerk.”

“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” he replies without missing a beat, his eyes remaining staunchly shut.

Shaking your head, you instead direct your attention to the tupperware container that’s sitting on the desk in front of your friend. You can see what looks like some kind of pastry inside, and prod curiously at it before poking Taehyung in the shoulder. “So, what’s this? Don’t tell me you tried to make croque monsieurs again.”

“Excuse you, those weren’t even that bad,” he defends, his eyes flying open. “And no, I didn’t. I made quiche this time.”

“Right,” you say suspiciously. “And what’s in it?”

“Bacon, cheese, onions,” Taehyung lists with a shrug. “Oh, and a few baby carrots I had on hand. I didn’t really know what else to do with them.”

It’s far from the strangest combination your friend has come up with—a sentiment you voice aloud as you pry open the edge of the container and accept the fork he hands over. “This feels shockingly normal.” Cautiously, you dig into an edge and bring it to eye level so you can examine the filling. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I’m going to start force feeding you if you don’t stop teasing,” Taehyung threatens, grabbing a fork for himself and helping himself to a generous bite. “Seriously, give it a try—I promise it’s good. I didn’t even drop any eggshells in it this time.”

Laughing, you bring the quiche to your mouth. The pastry is flaky and the filling is smooth, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the harmonious balance of seasonings that you taste. Taehyung watches in satisfaction as you go in for a bigger piece, and pushes the tupperware closer when you nearly drop it.

“Told you it was good,” he says smugly, and you can only nod your agreement and raise your coffee in silent commendation.

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments—until you remember the napkin shoved in your pocket and pull it out with a grimace. You’ve ranted to Taehyung about your new nemesis on more than one occasion by this point, and he doesn’t even blink as he flattens out the material and scans the words scrawled there. “I’ve gotta say, the guy’s got good handwriting,” he remarks, and you immediately fix him with a scowl.

“Really? You’ve got to say that?”

Taehyung holds up his hands innocently. “Just an observation,” he says. “How many of these notes do you even have now? Three?”

“Five,” you grumble. “And I’m still no closer to figuring out who he is. I don’t suppose you have access to a police database or anything, right? Some way to match this guy’s handwriting?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” is Taehyung’s blasé reply. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to do anything, even if you do figure out who he is. You’ll just keep stewing until something else comes along, so why even bother with the manhunt in the first place?”

You sniff. “I’m raising Trixie to be a strong, determined woman who can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. What kind of example would I be setting if I can’t do this one thing?”

Taehyung doesn’t even bother trying to disguise his snort of laughter. “You’re so full of shit. Jesus Christ.”

The bell rings, then—signaling that students have five minutes to make their way to their classrooms. You sigh, and Taehyung wordlessly stands up and begins gathering his tupperware back into his bag, tucking the cutlery in last and grabbing his remaining coffee as he turns toward the door.

“Catch you later,” he says at the threshold, and you wave him off before brushing a few stray crumbs off your desk. Finishing off the last of your coffee, you pull your planner from your bag and absentmindedly shove the napkin note in its place—putting away any and all thoughts of your bagel nemesis as students slowly begin filtering into your classroom. Trixie briefly catches your eye as she files in with a couple of her friends, and you smile as you rise from your seat and begin outlining the day’s lesson plan on the chalkboard.

There’s no doubt that Fridays are your favorite. Friday afternoons at Hybe Academy are dedicated to the arts, and listening to the soft strains of music coming from the orchestra room and the various solo instruments taking lessons brings you boundless joy. You love seeing the new paintings on the walls the following Monday too, and often stay a while after school lets out on Friday to hang up the pieces produced by your own class.

But this particular Friday—it isn’t going as planned at all.

You’re beginning to think that this morning’s strike from your bagel thief was an omen. Up until two hours ago, it’s just been the usual inconveniences and minor drawbacks—a misplaced pencil here, or a spilled bit of juice there. But now, halfway through the schoolday, you feel like you’re drowning. Your stomach is growling and your hair is in disarray, and it’s all thanks to the fact that you currently have twice the amount of students you normally do occupying your classroom—all of whom are seemingly intent on covering every available surface with splatters of paint.

You can’t blame Miss Kumar, of course. Family emergencies are just that—emergencies. They can’t be predicted or controlled, and when she was called at lunchtime with unexpected news, you understood that she had to leave immediately. In an unfortunate turn of events, none of the Academy’s usual substitute teachers were available, and you soon found yourself haplessly watching on as her first-graders filed into your room with chairs in tow, taking up residence two to a desk alongside your own students.

And even though you’re doing your absolute best to maintain some semblance of order, you know you’ve lost when one of Miss Kumar’s students—Nicholas, you think his name is—upends a little plastic canister of paint onto his desk and splats both hands into it. Blue paint goes flying in every direction, and as he giggles, the other children quickly begin to follow his lead.

“Guys, no, wait—” you try to say, but it’s too late. A fully fledged paint fight has broken out, and you watch in horror as Daeun flings a dollop of yellow paint straight onto Trixie’s Hercules shirt.

If there’s a bright spot in all of this, it’s that Principal Pam Baker works fast. You’d called her mere minutes into the fight breaking out, and she’d done her part by calling the parents of the students you’d named as instigators of the fight. Those who could came in right away, and once you managed to settle everyone down, you brought their kids down to Pam’s office so that she could have a group meeting with both the parents and students alike. The remaining children you took to the library to be watched by Taehyung while you cleaned up your classroom. It’s an absolute disaster zone, and you’ve only just begun spraying down the first desk when the door flies open.

“Most of the children are at the library,” you say without turning around, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of red paint on the corner of the desk with a wet wipe. “If you’re looking for your child, you’d best head over there.”

“Actually, I’m here to speak to you,” a familiar voice says, and dread pools in your stomach as you turn and find yourself face-to-face with none other than Jungkook Jeon, his dark eyes unreadable. On his wrist, just barely concealed beneath the sleeve of his charcoal overcoat, you can see his expensive silver watch glinting in the fluorescent light.

“Mr. Jeon,” you manage once you’ve found your voice again. “How can I help you?”

For a few long seconds, Jungkook remains silent. He steps over the threshold and into your classroom, taking in the paint-splattered walls and the chairs scattered haphazardly about. Then his gaze settles on you, his nose wrinkling slightly as he speaks again.

“It smells in here.”

“It’s the paint,” you answer shortly, stepping over an upended cup of brushes and making your way to the window. Fumbling with the lock, you struggle for a few seconds before finally managing to heave it open, letting in a welcome gust of cool wintry air.

Jungkook watches all of this in silence. Then he hums, faint amusement lacing his voice. “I see that.”

Irritation blooms in your belly at his blasé tone. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Jeon? If you’re looking for Daeun, I’m afraid she’s down the hall in Principal Baker’s office.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Jungkook takes a step forward, the heels of his sleek black oxfords clicking against the tiled floor. “This is the second time you’ve lost control of your classroom, I believe. And tell me, Miss {L/N}, why has my daughter been sent to the principal’s office two days in a row, now?”

You glance up from where you’ve begun wiping at a spot of hot pink paint on the windowsill. “With all due respect, Mr. Jeon, I think that’s a question that only Daeun can answer.”

“Daeun.” There’s outright laughter in Jungkook’s voice now—but it’s the humorless sort that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Right, of course. The blame is always on my daughter, isn’t it? Never any of the others. Never your own.”

For a moment, you can only stare at him. Then, without even fully realizing what you’re doing, you begin walking forward. First one step, and then another—until the tips of your sensible block heels are mere inches from the tips of his oxfords. Emotion is building steadily in your chest—a cocktail of exhaustion and anger topped off with the day’s frustrations—and all of it comes flooding out as you raise your chin and look Jungkook Jeon square in the eye.

“Unlike you, I saw what happened today, Mr. Jeon. Several students were responsible for instigating and perpetuating this fight, and unfortunately, Daeun was one of them. I don’t appreciate you implying that I favor any of my students over others, and I certainly don’t appreciate you questioning my ability as a teacher.” Your chest heaves as you pause to take a breath. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon. Maybe you don’t think so, but I am. I’ve been teaching for nearly a decade, and I’ve spent almost every day with these children for the past year. You don’t get to come in here and disrespect me in my own classroom. I don’t care how much money you give to this school. I’m not beholden to you or your money, and I’ll thank you to not come in here with unnecessary attitude and finger-pointing.”

Your blood is rushing in your ears by the time your speech comes to an end. Jungkook is silent, staring down his nose at you for three long seconds before he deliberately raises a dark eyebrow. “Are you finished?” he asks.

You shiver as his hot breath fans against your cheeks. “No.” And then, in a surge of stupid, adrenaline-fueled bravery, you add, “I kind of want to cuss you out, to be honest.”

The other eyebrow rises to join the first, as a huff of wry laughter escapes his lips. “Oh?”

You deflate slightly, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. It shouldn’t be so easy for a parent to get a rise out of you, but Jungkook seems to do it so easily—and so often. “I’m not going to,” you murmur.

“No?” Jungkook’s gaze darts down to your lips, then up to your eyes, and then down to your lips again. “That’s rather disappointing.”

Unwittingly, you’ve drifted even closer to him since you first started talking. You can see each fleck of amber in his irises, and could probably count each of his individual eyelashes if you so cared. This close to him, you can see that one of his eyebrows is pierced—his dark hair brushed back just enough to reveal the silvery metal embedded in his skin. You don’t pull away though, and neither does he. If anything, he seems to be willing you closer—his lips parting and his tongue darting out to moisten them.

And then he blinks, and you pull back as if burned. “If… if that’s all, I should really get back to cleaning up,” you stammer, hating the wobble in your voice as you return to your desk and grab a fresh wet wipe. “Principal Baker’s office is down the hall on the left.”

“I remember. I was there yesterday, after all.” The faint amusement has returned to his tone. Straightening his tie, he begins making his way to the exit, only to pause in the doorframe and glance at you once more over his shoulder. “Oh, and Miss {L/N}?”

You look up. “Yes?”

“You should really look in a mirror. It looks like a Smurf exploded on your face.”

///

Saturday brings with it clear blue skies and a sweet, sweet reprieve from the chaos of the week. You’d promised Trixie that you would make ratatouille together over the weekend—just like in the movie—and now you’re making good on that promise as you push a shopping cart around the grocery store with your daughter skipping happily by your side. “Ooh! We need these, right?” she exclaims, pointing at a display of zucchini, and you nod, watching as she carefully selects two and plunks them into the cart.

Together, the two of you finish up in the produce section and head for the aisles that house all the baking goods. Trixie peruses the shelves as you stock up on the essentials—flour, sugar, and a couple boxes of baking soda. Then you grab a package of chocolate chips, laughing when Trixie immediately perks up at the sound of the bag crinkling and whirls around to look at you with wide, eager eyes.

“Can we do chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies?” she asks, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

“I think you’re pushing your luck, young lady,” you tell her, but relent when she selflessly offers to bring the extras to class on Monday to share.

Ten minutes later, you’re heading toward the checkout line when you suddenly realize that you’ve forgotten something. “Tomatoes,” you say aloud, glancing down at Trixie apologetically. “Totally slipped my mind. Let’s go grab some, bug.”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but turns toward the produce section nonetheless. Faster than you can blink, she trots off, leaving you to trail after her with the shopping cart. Maneuvering around a particularly tall display of onions, you pull out your phone to check the grocery list one more time—only to be interrupted by the metallic clang of your shopping cart hitting another. Immediately, you open your mouth to apologize, but stop short when your eyes meet the owner of the other cart.

“O-oh,” you stammer, your head spinning as you try to recover your full vocabulary. “Mr. Jeon. I… I didn’t see you there.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That much I gathered.” Then he nods toward Trixie, who you can just barely see two aisles and a crate of watermelons away. “Doing some shopping, Miss {L/N}?”

You don’t respond. Your brain is in overdrive, struggling to reconcile the Jungkook standing in front of you with the one you’d seen just yesterday in your paint-splattered classroom. His dark hair isn’t parted neatly across his forehead for once—instead, it falls in soft waves around his face. Rather reluctantly, your brain acknowledges that he looks good—irritatingly so. You’ve never seen him in casual clothes before—only neatly pressed suits that cost more than your entire paycheck—and the change is jarring to say the least. His purple sweatshirt is baggy and his black joggers are just tight enough to show off the definition of his thighs, and—

—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?

Trixie, thankfully, comes to the rescue as you gape at Jungkook’s feet for several seconds too long. “Is this enough?” she asks, lugging a plastic bag bulging with at least a dozen heirloom tomatoes. Still a little shellshocked, you look down at her, blinking dumbly before bursting into laughter.

“That’s plenty, bug. In fact, we probably need to put some back, unless you want tomatoes in your cookies too.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Trixie says thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Or we can make marinara and have spaghetti and meatballs tomorrow!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to huff out a laugh of his own. “Spaghetti and meatballs, huh? Great minds must think alike—Daeun suggested the exact same thing for our dinner tonight. Only thing is, we’re apparently making everything by hand, even the spaghetti. And we’ve never made pasta before, so…” He chuckles. “You can imagine how well that’ll probably go.”

You glance around the nearest visible aisles. “Daeun’s a proper little chef, I see. Is she here with you?”

The dark-haired man gestures toward the back of the grocery store. “I tasked her with grabbing some milk and eggs while I get the onions. She won’t go near them until they’re cooked, so I figured this would be most efficient.”

You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook answers with a surprisingly boyish smile. You note with amusement that his front teeth are more prominent than the rest, just enough to give him the resemblance of a rabbit. Rather unfairly, it somehow manages to work in his favor when put together with the rest of him. Your cheeks warm when you register again just how handsome he truly is, and you quickly suck in a deep breath as you search around for a distraction.

You’re in luck. Daeun rounds the corner of a nearby display of cantaloupes with a wide grin, a gallon jug of milk and a carton of eggs in either hand. Her grin widens when she spots you, and you chuckle as she tries and fails to raise her jug-bearing hand to wave.

“Hi, Miss {L/N}!” she exclaims as she comes to a stop alongside Jungkook’s cart and deposits her goods inside. “What’re you doing here?”

“Dae,” Jungkook chides gently, but you laugh and wave him off.

“Hi, Daeun. I’m doing some shopping with Trixie, just like you are with your dad. Speaking of which—you probably have a lot of cooking to get to.” You return your attention to Jungkook. “I mean, I know we do. Somehow, I was talked into making two types of cookies this weekend, so we should really head out and get started.”

“Wait—hang on a second.” Jungkook speaks again, and maybe it’s your imagination but you think you hear a tinge of desperation in his tone. “I’m actually glad we ran into you today. We were going to do this on Monday but since you’re both here, Daeun has something she’d like to say to Trixie. Isn’t that right, Dae?”

Daeun’s gaze drops to where she’s scuffing her sneakered feet against the tiled linoleum floor. Jungkook reaches down, giving her an encouraging nudge, and she hesitates for a second before looking back up and glancing between you and Trixie. “I’m sorry,” she begins shyly. “I shouldn’t’ve thrown paint at you. Or taken your book.” And when Jungkook nudges her again and lifts an eyebrow, she continues again. “And… I’m sorry for laughing when you fell down on the playground. It wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t being nice. I’m really sorry, Trixie.”

There’s a beat of silence, as Daeun falls silent and looks at your daughter hopefully. You glance between the two girls, then up at Jungkook, who still has a hand on Daeun’s shoulder and seems to be holding his breath. Trixie, for her part, looks to be deep in thought, her face scrunched in contemplation as she taps a finger against her lips. Vaguely, you wonder if you should say something, but decide against it.

And then Trixie beams, toothy and bright. Daeun’s answering smile is still tentative, but it transforms into full-blown giggles when your daughter rushes forward and clasps one of her hands in both of her own. “I forgive you,” she says shortly, giving her hand a shake like a little businesswoman. You and Jungkook watch on as the two girls proceed to skip off, hand-in-hand and singing “Baby Shark”.

“Wow,” you remark, turning back to Jungkook. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. What brought that on?”

Jungkook begins to look rather sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck. “I actually have a bit of a confession to make. Not to mention, I owe you a huge apology. I talked to Dae last night, and… well, you were right. She wasn’t acting out for no reason. She… she was actually jealous of Trixie."

You frown. "What?"

He nods. "Yeah. See, I got promoted at my job a while ago. Right after the holidays, I had to start working longer hours, which of course meant less time at home with her. And I guess all of that took its toll, especially since I had to stop taking her to school every morning.” He sighs. “She didn’t adjust very well to that. I tried my best to make things work, but there’s only so much I can do, you know? Eventually I had to set up a morning carpool with some of the neighbors. And I tried to ease the transition as much as I could, but…” He trails off with another sigh. “Guess I did kind of a shit job there.”

Your mind is reeling at all of this new information, but you manage to find your voice again after a few moments. “You did your best,” you tell him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm. “And you’re still trying. That’s all that matters, you know. You’re trying to make things better. Daeun can sense that, and believe me, it’s paying off.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, but thank you. I’m just glad that Dae has a good school and good teachers. Actually, you’ve always been her favorite, did you know that?”

You didn’t. “Really?”

“Really.”

You aren’t sure what to say after that, so you opt to look around instead. At some point—you aren’t sure when—the two of you must’ve started walking around the grocery store again because all around you are shelves full of bread and baked goods. Mindlessly, you grab a bag of everything bagels and smile when Jungkook follows your lead and drops a bag into his own cart.

A few minutes of meandering later, you find Trixie and Daeun together in the snack aisle, deep in discussion about their favorite candies. The conversation winds down as you and Jungkook approach, and you decide not to comment when Trixie not-so-surreptitiously slips a package of chocolate caramels into your shopping cart.

“We should probably get going,” you say instead, pulling out your phone and glancing at the time. “Gosh, there really aren’t enough hours in the day. You ready, bug?”

“Yep!” Trixie replies cheerily, turning to wave goodbye to Daeun and Jungkook. “Bye, Daeun! Bye, Mr. Jeon!”

“See you Monday, Trixie! You too, Miss {L/N}!” Daeun exclaims. And as you and Jungkook exchange smiles and farewells of your own, you feel lighter than you’ve felt in days, as if an invisible weight has lifted.

///

Like clockwork, Monday morning finds you at the counter of Bean There, Done That! with an apologetic Jin offering you your usual coffee in a size larger than the one you’d paid for. “Again?” you exclaim as you accept the cup and take a generous sip. “I can’t believe this. You opened like, twenty minutes ago.”

The corner of Jin’s mouth twitches. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he produces a full tray of cinnamon streusel bagels from somewhere beneath the counter, picking out the best-looking one before sliding the tray into its spot in the display. “I just wanted to see the look on your face,” he admits as he slips the bagel into a paper bag and hands it over. “These are fresh—still pretty warm, in fact. Surprised you didn’t smell them when you came in.”

“I did smell them,” you tell him, wagging a finger. “But the blueberry bagels are always kind of overpowering and this whole place tends to smell like vanilla anyway, so excuse me for taking you for your word when you said you were out.”

“You know, a simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” Jin sniffs. Then he gestures to the stack of napkins next to the cash register and waggles his eyebrows. “Care to leave a snarky note of your own?”

A slow grin spreads across your face as you start fishing in your purse for a pen. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

///

The rest of the day goes smoothly, and you’re pretty sure it’s all thanks to the cinnamon streusel bagel you’d had the time to truly savor this morning. You’d even bought an extra for Taehyung, who for his part contributed a tupperware full of bacon strips and a pitcher of mixed berry smoothie to your breakfast. For lunch you’d made sure to eat a healthy dose of vegetables, and as you head into the final period of the day, you feel more than ready to give a room full of children their next big assignment.

“All right, class,” you say as your students filter into the classroom and start taking their seats. “We’ve been learning about the animal kingdom for the last few weeks, and it’s finally time to put everything we’ve learned so far together. I’m going to go around and hand each of you a card. Take a look at it—you’ll either see a picture of an animal, or the name of an animal.” Grabbing the stack of cards off your desk, you begin distributing them, slowly making your way up and down the rows of desks. “Then, I want you to get up out of your seats and find the card that matches yours. If there’s a picture of a zebra on your card, you want to find the person with ‘zebra’ written on their card. And that person will be your partner for this project. Does that make sense to everyone?”

Nods and exclamations of affirmation all around. Satisfied, you hand out the last of your cards and return to your desk, gesturing for your students to stand up and find their partners. You watch as the children mill around, exclaiming happily when they find their match. Much to your satisfaction, you see that Daisy—a little girl who always has her blond hair corralled into a neat braid—and Josiah—a well-mannered boy with a different-colored polo for each day of the week—just so happen to be partners. You hadn’t planned it that way, but you’ve always gotten the feeling that there was a hint of a little crush there.

Another pleasant surprise comes in the form of Daeun, who’s plopped herself in the seat beside Trixie and is animatedly gesturing at her card. Even from your spot in the front of the classroom, you can read the big block letters that spell out “penguin” and see the corresponding line drawing on Trixie’s card. And as the girls begin to chat, it’s as if the issues of the last few months hadn’t happened at all.

Your class spends the last few hours of the school day in the library, working on their newly assigned project. You’ve set up shop at the table nearest Taehyung’s desk, which you’ve always kind of envied. Perfectly round and situated in the center of the room, it allows for a 360-degree view of the entire library if he so much as spins in his chair. “Honestly, I could get so much done if I had one of these,” you lament to him as you watch Josiah sharpen Daisy’s pencil for her out of the corner of your eye. “I’d set up the best frickin’ assembly line you ever saw.”

“You sound like a workaholic,” Taehyung replies, doing yet another lazy revolution in his seat. “Or a lunatic. Same thing, really.”

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you settle for rolling your eyes instead. The final bell of the day rings, and you shepherd your students out of the library with your friend on your heels. As the children disperse to their lockers, you trail after Trixie and Daeun, waiting for the two to say their goodbyes so you and your daughter can walk to the car together. It’s still odd seeing the two getting along so well, but you aren’t about to question it as you and Taehyung follow the girls to their lockers—which happen to be in the same section of the hallway—and then out and into the bright afternoon sun. Smiling, you listen to them chattering excitedly about the project even as Taehyung launches into a tirade about his latest rent increase.

“Seriously, I should just move at this point—it’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even use the conference center, and the indoor pool is just a waste of space when there’s a public one that’s twice the size three blocks away. And that one even has a hot tub! Not to mention—”

You sigh, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Jeez, Tae, just move. You’ve been threatening to for over a year now, and it’s not like anyone’s forcing you to stay. You don’t even like the neighborhood, for god’s sake. I don’t know why you stuck around for that long.”

Taehyung sniffs. “Moving’s just such a hassle, you know? I really wanted to avoid it, but I guess I can’t this time around. A 22% rent increase… fucking hell. You’ll help me pack, won’t you?”

“I’d rather not.”

“But you’re so good at packing! And you have all that bubble wrap and the box of styrofoam peanuts hoarded in your closet—”

“Stored in my closet.”

“Whatever,” he says dismissively, waving you off. “I’m not here to debate semantics with you.”

“No, you’re here to guilt me into helping you move,” you reply. “What’s up with that, anyway? I thought you swore off of renting U-Hauls for good after last time. You were googling moving companies and getting quotes for weeks.”

“Yeah, I definitely lost that spreadsheet,” Taehyung admits. “Besides, money’s a little tight right now. Every last bit of spare change we have is going toward Jimin’s new pilates studio. We’re saving wherever and whenever we can.”

You nod in understanding at the mention of his fiancé and his new business venture. “How’s all that going, anyhow? I know Jimin’s been super busy—we haven’t been to bar trivia in weeks.”

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing,” Taehyung says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Starting a business is hard—who knew?”

“Who knew, indeed,” you echo. You’re about to say something else, too, but any semblance of coherence flies out of your head when you glance at the girls again and see that they’ve come to a stop. There’s a sleek black Mercedes-Benz idling at the curb, and leaning against it is none other than Jungkook Jeon—dressed in a sharp navy blue ensemble with his hair slicked back and dark sunglasses perched on his nose. It’s impossible to tell whether he’s seen you yet, and it’s all you can do to tear your gaze away before you get caught staring. Turning back instead to Taehyung, you raise a hand in farewell. “Well, it looks like this is my stop.”

“Seems that way,” your friend hums, casting a curious glance at Trixie, who’s enthusiastically greeted Jungkook with a Hi again, Mr. Jeon! and is now giggling with Daeun about how they can see their reflections in his car. “See you tomorrow. Don’t get into too much trouble!”

You roll your eyes at the flagrant wink Taehyung sends your way, surreptitiously flipping him off from behind your tote bag. Then you make your way over to your daughter, who’s still engrossed in conversation. Coming to a stop behind her, you lay a hand on her shoulder, smiling as she looks up and flashes you a big grin. “All righty. You ready to go home, jitterbug?” you ask.

Trixie juts her bottom lip out into a pout. “Can I go to Daeun’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through his phone. Then you return your gaze to your daughter, taking in her eager, bright eyes. “I don’t know, bug. Have you asked Mr. Jeon if you can come over?”

Daeun pipes up then, her pigtails bobbing with every word. “He says it’s okay, Miss {L/N}! Since we have a project to work on and all. He even said we can order takeout for dinner!”

Again, you look at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but when he feels your gaze he glances up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Dae’s right—I did promise the girls takeout. Sorry to catch you off guard with last-minute plans like this, Miss {L/N}. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us as well.”

You blink. To say that the invitation has caught you off guard would be a massive understatement, and as your brain races to catch up, you suddenly realize that he’s willing to let you come to his home. You would be in his space—where he lives, eats, sleeps. The thought is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

“I—I don’t want to impose,” you finally manage after what feels like an eternity. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I have a lot of homework to grade, and…” You trail off, hesitant, and Jungkook waits a beat before chiming in.

“No imposition at all,” he says, offering you a small smile. “Honest. I’ve spent two of the last three weekends hosting sleepovers for Daeun’s friends, and I’m not convinced I remember what adult company is like anymore.” Then his smile widens—just enough to offer a glimpse of his endearingly prominent front teeth and crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Remind me?”

You aren’t sure if you’re imagining the flirtatious edge in his tone, but you push the thought to the very back of your head and straighten the hem of your blouse before grasping for the phone tucked in your bag. “I… I suppose that would be all right,” you begin hesitantly as you pretend to check for new notifications. “You’re sure it won’t be any trouble?”

“None at all,” Jungkook reassures. “Here, I’ll give you my address for your GPS, but it might be easier if you just follow me. Where are you parked?”

You gesture toward the staff parking lot, which is usually separated from the main lot by a row of neatly manicured hydrangea bushes that bloom in bursts of pink and blue and purple during the spring and summer months. Right now, there are only a few sparse yellow daffodils, pushing up through the dirt and signaling that spring is not far off despite the lingering chill in the air. “I’m about three rows in. I can drive over and meet you here, if that works?”

Trixie chooses that moment to pipe up, instinctively raising her hand like she’s still in class. “Can I ride with Daeun and Mr. Jeon?”

You hesitate, glancing over at Jungkook, who shrugs as if to say fine by me. Turning your attention back to your daughter, you nod and reach down to adjust the glittery pink scrunchie in her hair. “Be good,” you order. “Don’t distract Mr. Jeon while he’s driving, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Trixie hums, already turning toward the sleek black Benz and tugging on the door handle. “See you there, Mom!”

You wave, watching as the girls climb into the backseat before turning and making your way to your own car. Unlocking the door, you slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath. Then, you take another. And a few moments later, you take a third.

Even as you mentally play back the events of the afternoon, you still can’t wrap your head around how it came to this. Here you are, about to drive to Jungkook Jeon’s house. You’ve seen his address in your files, and you know from the street name that he lives downtown, in the part of the city that’s dominated by high-rise buildings and five-star hotels. It’s an area that you don’t visit often, having no reason to unless there’s a particular restaurant that you’re looking to try out—and have the money for. It feels odd inputting his address into your phone’s navigation app, but you do so nonetheless, watching as it calculates the optimal route.

Steeling yourself, you start up the ignition and ease up on the brake. As you pull out of your parking space, you crane your head to see if Jungkook’s car is still where you’d last seen it, which it thankfully is. Slowly, you make your way over to where the Benz is idling, pulling up alongside him and giving him a little wave. Jungkook has donned his sunglasses again, but he lowers them when he sees you and nods in acknowledgment. Ready to go? he mouths, and you nod even though it’s a lie. You aren’t ready. You aren’t sure you ever will be. But Jungkook is already pulling ahead and out of the parking lot, and you’re forced to push aside your intrusive thoughts and follow.

The first stretch of the drive is easy. Jungkook is a measured driver, and you can tell that he’s taking care to turn only when there’s enough room for both of your vehicles. The second stretch, however, proves far more difficult. Now that you’re downtown, there’s an abundance of one-way streets and pedestrians. Traffic lights sit on seemingly every corner, alternating between red, yellow, and green at random, as far as you can tell. You nearly lose Jungkook twice on particularly short green lights, and only narrowly avoid hitting an overeager dog dragging its hapless owner into the crosswalk before the walk sign has changed.

The third time, it finally happens. Dismayed, you watch as Jungkook’s sleek black Benz cruises past a green light, just before it turns yellow for a split second and then flips to red. You’re forced to brake far faster than you’d prefer—way too fast to be safe, for sure—and watch as Jungkook disappears around the Starbucks on the next corner. Muttering out a quiet curse, you drum your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you wait for the light to change again. Thankfully, you’re only about two minutes from your destination.

After what feels like an eternity, the light finally turns green. Releasing your foot on the brake, you take the turn that Jungkook had taken, glancing between your phone and the surrounding buildings to identify your destination. There’s a string of restaurants, a pharmacy, and a post office. You cruise past a dentist’s office and a few dry cleaners, and then your phone is directing you to turn right onto a street that boasts a long row of glass-fronted office buildings.

Two blocks later, you’re pulling up to a tall, sleek chrome building. The first floor is occupied by a seafood restaurant and the second and third seem to be a gym, but as you crane your head upward you can see that the floors above that seem to be condominiums. Letting your head fall back against the headrest, you glance down at your phone one more time, confirming that this is indeed your destination. Then you take a long, deep breath before you begin following the little blue signs that claim to lead to a parking garage beneath the building.

To your relief, the garage itself isn’t difficult to find. You take a ticket from the machine as you descend down the concrete ramp, keeping an eye out for any open spots that are designated as guest parking. Seconds pass, and then minutes. Your heart flutters nervously in your chest as you descend deeper into the parking garage, seeking a break in the rows of cars that never comes. You’re seconds away from giving up and turning around, when finally, you see an open spot. It’s a little cramped and it’s right next to a concrete pillar that’s just a little too close for comfort, but you manage to squeeze into the space. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, you turn off the ignition and tuck your keys into your purse, taking a moment to gather yourself before exiting your car and locking it behind you.

That’s when you encounter your next obstacle: figuring out how, exactly, to get out of the parking garage. You can’t find a single sign to guide your way—only a locked dark green door that you assume is some kind of mechanical room. Groaning, you spin in a full circle, taking in your concrete surroundings. Maybe if you just start walking, you’ll find a sign that will point you to the elevators. You’d even consider taking the stairs at this point, no matter how many floors down you are (you’re pretty sure it’s seven or eight).

Just then, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Jungkook Jeon (Daeun’s Dad) emblazoned across the screen and immediately swipe to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, obvious relief coloring his tone. “I’m sorry I lost you back there. Where are you now?”

“I’m in the parking garage below your building,” you reply, idly scuffing your foot along the concrete floor. “I’m parked pretty far down, and now I can’t seem to figure out how to get upstairs.”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ll admit the signage isn’t great down there. Let me see… can you see any doors?”

“Just this green one, but it’s locked.” Reaching out, you try the handle again to double-check. “Other than that, nothing.”

Another hum from the man on the other end of the line. “Okay, walk away from that door. Try and head toward the middle of the garage—that’s where the elevators are. There’s four of them, and they’re in this big concrete circle. Can you see them yet?”

“Maybe?” You can see a break in the rows of cars up ahead, and a rounded concrete wall in the distance. Speeding up, you make your way around the edge and blink as a bank of elevators comes into view. “Oh, wait—yeah! Huh. Weird. I didn’t expect the doors to be orange.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Each floor’s color-coordinated, yeah. Orange means you’re near the bottom, though. Didn’t you see the guest parking on the first floor?”

You blink. “No, I don’t think so. Did I miss something?”

That draws another chuckle from him. “Probably. There’s a row of spaces off to the right as soon as you enter the garage, but it can be pretty easy to miss if you don’t know to look for it. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you enter the elevator and hit the button for the thirty-fourth floor. “I could’ve asked.”

Bidding him farewell and assuring that you’ll see him soon, you hang up and tuck your phone back into your pocket. The elevator ride is relatively short despite how high you’re going, and before you know it you find yourself standing in front of a navy blue door with a polished brass knocker. Raising your hand, you’re about to knock when the door flies open, revealing Daeun and Trixie standing there with identical grins.

“You’re finally here!” your daughter exclaims, bounding forward to take you by the hand and lead you inside. “Mr. Jeon said we had to wait for you to get here. He says he’s gonna give us a grand tour!”

“It’s really not as exciting as they’re making it sound.” Jungkook’s voice comes from around the corner, and the man himself steps into view a moment later. He’s taken off his jacket and removed his tie, leaving him in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt with the first few buttons undone. Your gaze lingers a little too long on this newly exposed sliver of chest, but you forcibly tear your gaze away when Trixie gives your hand a squeeze.

“Come on, Mom! You can see everything from the window. It’s like you’re on top of a mountain!”

Laughing, you follow your daughter deeper into the apartment. She points to the closet off the foyer, where you obligingly hang up your coat next to her periwinkle one. Then she leads you to the far end of the foyer, where it opens into a wide hallway. On the other side of the hall is an archway that leads to a spacious kitchen with white cabinets and polished granite countertops. You take note of the bright yellow bar stools at the kitchen island, chuckling when Daeun loudly declares that she picked them out—and that Jungkook had caved to her despite wanting boring gray ones instead.

As you continue your tour, it becomes abundantly clear that Jungkook has caved to his daughter on multiple occasions. The furniture in the living area is neutral—shades of beige and dark wood that pair well with the polished floorboards and modern floor-to-ceiling windows. But scattered throughout the space are pops of color and quirkiness that you can confidently attribute to Daeun—having graded several of the art pieces that you now see hanging on the wall and adorning the sleek glass coffee table. There’s the lopsided clay vase painted with streaks of hot pink and specks of bright yellow, and there’s the papier-mâché snowman with his jaunty orange hat. You see more and more of Daeun’s influence everywhere you look—the watercolor butterfly paintings on the wall, and the red floral accent chair that you’re sure Jungkook didn’t pick out himself.

“That’s Daddy’s room,” Daeun says, pointing to a nondescript white door beside the bookshelves that flank the flatscreen TV hanging on the wall. Then she points down the hall, past the kitchen where you can see a few more doors. “And that’s my room down there, next to Daddy’s office. Do you want to see?”

You nod. “I can’t wait. Lead the way.”

Cheerfully, Daeun gestures for you to follow after her as she skips toward the door at the very end of the hall. She opens it with a flourish, allowing all of you inside, and as soon as you step past the threshold you’re transported to a fantastical world. Daeun’s bedroom walls are painted to resemble an enchanted forest, complete with delicate fairy lights wrapped around the wooden four-poster bed. A white desk and an accompanying green chair sit in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the pale pink curtains opened to let sunlight stream in. Along the sill is a collection of stuffed animals, ranging from a tiny butterfly to an elephant that you’re pretty sure is taller than Daeun herself. Opposite the bed is a gallery wall, composed of colorful floral prints and Daeun’s own art—a charming, eclectic mix of animal paintings and landscapes. It’s the kind of bedroom that you would’ve loved as a child, and your daughter is equally taken with it if her awed expression is anything to go by.

“This is so cool!” Trixie runs to the window to peer out at the city below, before twirling in a circle to take in the art on the walls. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like a magic forest!”

“It’s a beautiful room,” you remark, nodding your agreement. “And all of these drawings are amazing, Daeun. You’re a talented artist.”

Daeun flushes at the compliment, thanking you with a shy smile. Then she and Trixie are off again, speeding down the hallway to look at something else in the apartment. You and Jungkook trail after them slowly, until he opens another door off the hall to reveal his office. It’s smaller than Daeun’s bedroom and far more simplistic in its decor, but it’s a cozy and inviting space nonetheless. One wall is lined with mahogany bookshelves, and a polished wooden desk is pushed against the opposite. A plush burgundy armchair with a matching ottoman sits in the corner beside a tall potted plant, creating the perfect space for reading, and you can tell from the indentation in the seat cushion that it’s been well-loved over the years.

“I’ve definitely been bringing my work home too much lately,” Jungkook admits. “I’ve been cutting back though. Ever since Daeun’s behavioral problems…” He trails off. “Well, you know all about that already. And I do want to apologize for giving you a hard time. It’s just… I guess it’s not all that fun being told that you’re failing as a parent.”

“You’re not failing as a parent,” you reply, laying a hand on his arm before you can think to stop yourself. “You’re doing your best. It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Do everything we possibly can for our children?”

He nods, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking down at your hand on his arm, and you blanch inwardly as you quickly pull back and pretend to brush invisible dirt off your skirt. “We should go find the girls,” you murmur. And just like that, the tour is over.

The two of you rejoin the girls in the kitchen, where they’ve begun assembling themselves a snack of peanut butter and crackers. Jungkook slices up an apple and a banana for them to share, and they barely take the time to thank him before disappearing into Daeun’s bedroom to work on their project. You and Jungkook find yourselves alone in the kitchen, and when the silence between you has stretched on for just long enough to be awkward, you decide to speak. “So. I guess I should probably grade some homework while I’m here.”

Jungkook blinks and shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. “Right, of course. I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up myself. Please, make yourself comfortable. You’re free to work in the office, if you’d like.”

Immediately, you shake your head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude.”

He nods, then gestures out toward the dining table, which sits in a little nook between the main living area and kitchen. “Well then, feel free to make use of the table. Or the kitchen island. Or even the couch, if you’d prefer.” He pauses. “Wait, where are my manners? I haven’t even offered you anything to drink! Did you want anything?”

“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

Jungkook begins making his way to the refrigerator, regardless. “Seriously, it’s no trouble. I have coffee, tea, banana milk, and I think there’s probably a carton of apple juice in here too. What do you usually drink when you’re grading?”

“Tea,” you admit. “Any kind. I’m not picky.”

“Tea it is.” Jungkook sets about grabbing two mugs. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring it to you.”

For a moment, you wonder if you should ask if he needs help. But he’s already preoccupied with the kettle, his back to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his broad shoulders taper into his slim waist. In an attempt to distract yourself from gawking, you walk back out to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, you settle your bag on the floor beside you and take a seat. And by the time Jungkook comes out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea, you’re already halfway through grading the first math worksheet in your pile.

“Here you go.” Jungkook places a mug by your elbow, and you glance up at him with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

To your surprise, he takes his mug to the opposite side of the table and sets it down. Then he disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with his laptop in hand. You try not to stare as he sets up shop across from you, a loose lock of dark hair flopping across his forehead as he logs in and begins reading something, his dark eyes flitting across the screen. His piercing in his eyebrow glints in the sunlight streaming in through the nearby window.

Ripping your gaze away, you force yourself to focus on the homework you need to grade. And after a few minutes, you’re fully immersed, thumbing through sheet after sheet and writing down your notes.

Before you even realize it, two hours have passed. You only become aware of how late it’s getting when Jungkook shuts his laptop with a click, stretching his arms overhead and working a few kinks out of his neck. “It’s almost dinnertime,” he remarks, glancing out the window where the sun is steadily dropping closer to the horizon. “Did you have any thoughts about dinner? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” you begin to protest, but Daeun and Trixie choose that moment to dash in like mini tornadoes, whirling around the dining table.

“We can still order takeout for dinner, right Daddy?” Daeun gazes up at Jungkook with pleading eyes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “And Trixie and Miss {L/N} can stay if we do, right?”

Trixie looks at you, lower lip already beginning to jut out in a pout. “Please, Mom?”

Jungkook gives you a meaningful glance across the table, and you can only shrug and relent. “Yeah, all right. Since takeout was already promised, we can stay for dinner. But we’re going home after that, okay? It’s a school night.”

The girls burst into cheers. After a brief discussion on what kind of food to order, you all settle on Jungkook’s initial suggestion of pizza. As he puts in the order, you begin tidying up the dining table, clearing it of your graded homework. Daeun points out where the plates are kept, and together, you and the girls set the table for dinner.

“Estimated delivery time is half an hour,” Jungkook says as he tucks his phone back into his pocket and joins you at the dining table. “What should we do while we wait?”

“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims.

Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”

And just like that, it’s settled. The four of you settle around the coffee table for the game—you and Jungkook making yourselves comfortable on the cream-colored sectional while the girls sprawl out on the shaggy rug on the floor. The pizza arrives just as Trixie reaches Candy Castle, and Jungkook goes to answer the door while she celebrates her victory. Then, the four of you sit down for dinner.

It’s strange, sitting in Jungkook’s undoubtedly expensive apartment and eating pizza. But even more strange is how okay it all feels—natural, even. You aren’t sure when you became so comfortable in his presence, but you aren’t about to question it. You’re grateful for the lack of awkwardness.

An hour later, the last slice of pizza is finished. You volunteer to do the dishes, and Jungkook clears the table while you take up residence at the sink. You’ve tasked Trixie with gathering up her things so you can depart after you’ve finished in the kitchen, and can hear her giggling off in the distance with Daeun. “Thanks for hosting us today,” you murmur to Jungkook.

He chuckles, waving off your gratitude. “It’s no problem, seriously. I had a good time.”

You smile at him before returning to the dishes. Just as you’re putting away the last plate, the girls run back into the kitchen—Trixie with her backpack in tow.

“Can Daeun come to our house next time?” she asks, and you laugh.

“Sure, jitterbug. You’re welcome to come over whenever you’d like, Daeun.”

And with that, you and Trixie say your final goodbyes. You slip back into your shoes and grab your coats from the closet. Jungkook gives you directions for the easiest route out of the parking garage, and you thank him for what feels like the umpteenth time.

You’re barely listening to your daughter’s ramblings as you climb into the driver’s seat and turn on the ignition. All you can think about is Jungkook and this strange, newfound warmth that stirs in your belly whenever he seeps into your thoughts.

///

“You wiped that part of the counter already.”

Trixie’s voice barely registers in your mind, but the washcloth in your hand slows nonetheless. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning with hardly a cloud in the sky, and Jungkook and Daeun are due to arrive any minute. You’ve been cleaning for the past hour, and even though you know you’ve already gone through the kitchen, you can’t help yourself. This is the first time Jungkook will be seeing your humble abode, and you—ostensibly—want to impress.

“Bug, can you set the table?”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but complies nonetheless. Grabbing four plates, she places them down carefully before returning for four glasses. You join her at the table with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, straightening out one of the striped blue placemats as you set it down beside the vase of flowers that serves as a centerpiece.

You’ve just started frying bacon when the doorbell rings. “Got it!” Trixie calls, darting to the door, and you listen as she enthusiastically greets your guests. A few seconds later, Jungkook rounds the corner with both girls, decked out in jeans and a gray cable-knit sweather and carrying a plain white cardboard box in his hands.

Curiously, you tilt your head. “Mysterious box you’ve got there.”

He laughs. “Hello to you too.” Then he puts the box down and pops open the lid. “I brought my favorite bagels—I hope that’s okay. Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

You smile at him. “Of course it’s okay. I was just planning on making some toast, but bagels are way be…” You trail off as the bagels in question come into your view.

Perfectly golden, with a dusting of cinnamon sugar and streusel crumbles on top. You’d recognize them anywhere.

“{Name}?” Jungkook sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”

You blink and shake your head, mind still whirring. “Are these from that coffee shop downtown? Bean There, Done That?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”

You nod. “This… this might sound crazy and I might be way off base. But do you stop there every morning for a bagel?”

Jungkook blinks. Then he blinks again, his lips parting wordlessly. A beat passes, and then another. “Wait,” he finally manages, his voice a croak. “Hang on. Is it… I mean, it can’t be… can it?”

You reach into the drawer next to the stovetop and pull out a wad of pen-stained napkins. “Did you leave me these?”

For a few seconds, it seems like Jungkook can only gape at you. “Holy shit,” he finally breathes, before slapping a hand to his mouth with wide eyes and glancing around to make sure the girls aren’t within earshot. “I was leaving you notes this whole time?”

You can only laugh in disbelief. “You were the one taking my cinnamon streusel bagels?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have taken them if you’d gotten there earlier,” he teases. Chuckling, he picks up a napkin note and uncrumples it, scanning across the text. “Damn. Small world, huh?”

“The smallest,” you agree, mind reeling from this new development. Still chuckling, Jungkook steps past you to get to the stove, and you belatedly remember that the bacon is still sizzling in the pan as he picks up your tongs and carefully flips each strip.

“I kept your notes too,” he says after a moment. “I shoved both of them in my glovebox.”

You huff. “Both. Yeah, okay, you beat me to the last bagel way more than I beat you. You don’t have to rub it in, Jungkook.”

“Oh, come on.” He grins, toothy and bright, and you’re momentarily distracted by the endearing prominence of his teeth. “I think I have to rub it in a little.”

“Hmph. As long as it’s only a little,” you concede as you join him at the stove with another pan and begin scrambling eggs. Together, the two of you finish making breakfast, piling eggs onto one plate and bacon on another. You grab the bowl of fruit salad you’d prepared last night out of the fridge, and Jungkook grabs the box of bagels and calls for Daeun and Trixie to come eat. Then, he surprises you by sitting beside you, leaving the girls to sit next to each other on the opposite side of the table.

Breakfast is a relaxed affair—even if Taco keeps trying to jump up on the table to steal some bacon. You’ve eaten several meals with Jungkook and Daeun since that first dinner—usually at Jungkook’s apartment, but also once at the food court in your local natural history museum, where you took the girls to see the ocean exhibit’s penguin display. Since this is the final weekend before their group project is due on Monday, you’ve promised to take them to the zoo to see real, live penguins and complete the last of their research. Both girls already have their backpacks packed and ready to go, and you task Jungkook with checking to make sure they have all their notes while you clean up in the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way to the zoo. Jungkook has volunteered to drive, and you can’t help but gape a little as he unlocks his sleek black Mercedes-Benz and opens up the passenger door to reveal cream-colored leather seats and shiny silver hardware. “Wow,” you remark, catching his eye as he walks around to the driver’s side. “This is like the Batmobile or something.”

“Hardly,” he says with a laugh. “I wish I had rocket boosters and ejection seats. That’d be cool as hell.”

“Daddy!” Daeun gasps, scandalized. “That’s a bad word!”

Jungkook has the decency to look properly abashed. “I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home,” he promises before pretending to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key. Satisfied, Daeun clambers into the backseat with Trixie on her heels, and Jungkook shoots you a conspiratorial little wink as he takes his own seat and starts up the engine.

The drive to the zoo takes only about fifteen minutes. It’s already beginning to get crowded by the time you get there, but Jungkook still manages to find parking with little difficulty. Together, the two of you usher your daughters out of the car, reminding them not to run too far ahead when they immediately make a beeline for the entrance.

After a short wait in line to buy tickets, you finally make your way past the lion statues flanking the front gate. The wide concrete pathway leads to an open plaza where people are milling about—some looking at the directory located at the far end while others rely on the colorful signpost in the center, reading through the various directional arrows before heading off to their destination. Along the edges of the plaza are a multitude of stalls—selling everything from footlong hot dogs to stuffed animals to cotton candy. There’s a couple of artists painting faces, too, and Daeun only has to give Jungkook one wide-eyed, pleading look before he caves and pulls out his wallet. Aghast, you try to protest, but he waves you off and sends them both off with some cash in hand.

“Consider it payment for all the bagels I’ve deprived you of,” he says, and you relent with a laugh.

Slowly, the two of you make your way around the plaza, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the girls at all times. Half an hour later, Trixie and Daeun come skipping back your way, their faces bright with colorful paint. Daeun has an intricate pink and blue butterfly, while Trixie has opted for the distinctive orange and black stripes of a tiger.

“Do you like it?” she asks, and you nod, bopping her fondly on her painted black nose.

“I don’t just like it, jitterbug. I love it.”

Pleased, she rejoins Daeun, who has successfully diverted Jungkook to the cotton candy stand. Following after her, you hand the vendor your credit card to pay for both snacks before Jungkook can get a word in edgewise. Reluctantly, he tucks his wallet away, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

Once the girls have had their fill of the main plaza, the four of you head off in the direction of the penguin exhibit, stopping to look at the zebras and giraffes along the way. Photographs are snapped, and Trixie even flags down a nearby couple and asks them to take a photo of all four of you together. The girls jostle into place in front of the giraffe enclosure, and you suddenly find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook, the warmth of his body radiating off of him like the sun in the sky. Your resulting smile feels forced—especially when the girl starts taking multiple photos from different angles—but gradually relaxes. And now, even as you enter the penguin exhibit, you can’t stop sneaking glances at the last photo.

Because in it, you and Jungkook look like couple. You’re standing close enough that anyone who saw it would construe it as a family photo, the two of you beaming with your giggling daughters in front of you, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

Swallowing, you let your phone screen go dark and tuck it back into your pocket. You’re coming up on the penguin exhibit now, and the girls can barely contain their excitement as they run ahead to the outermost edge of the enclosure where a massive glass wall allows for a clear view of the penguins swimming about underwater.

“They’re so fast!” Trixie exclaims. She stops at one of the numerous placards lining the glass wall, her little face scrunching as she slowly reads it out loud to Daeun. “It says here some can swim over twenty miles an hour!”

As the girls pull out their notebooks and begin taking notes, you and Jungkook find an unoccupied bench near a rocky outcrop occupied by several bronze penguin statues. “Look,” Jungkook says, patting one of the upright penguins. “You can see how many people have rubbed this little guy’s head. It’s turned gold.”

“Must be good luck,” you remark, running a finger along the golden beak of another penguin. “Or maybe I should make a wish? I don’t really know what this situation calls for.”

“I’m pretty sure you make wishes when you throw a coin into a fountain,” your companion replies, brushing a dark strand of hair off his forehead. “Actually, I think I saw a fountain back there. Should we check it out later?”

“I don’t think I have any change on me,” you reply, peeking into your purse to make sure. “Seriously, who even carries coins anymore?”

“Not me,” Jungkook agrees. “I do usually have at least a little cash on me, though. It’s nice to have sometimes.”

“Mm, yeah. You never know when you’ll need it.”

Just then, Trixie and Daeun run up, gesturing toward the brown building at the very back of the enclosure. “There’s a penguin movie playing over there!” Daeun says. “Can we go see it?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “How long is it?”

“I think it runs every twenty minutes,” you reply when Daeun frowns and scratches her head. “Come on. If I’m remembering correctly, we should be able to see more penguins inside too.”

Daeun and Trixie beam. “Cool!” they exclaim in unison, before galloping off and leaving you and Jungkook to follow after them as quickly as you can manage without breaking into a run yourselves.

Your memory proves correct, as you enter the brown building and immediately see that the walls inside are glass as well. A penguin dives off of a rocky island and into the clear blue water, and you watch as it goes all the way to the bottom of the pool before coming back up for air.

After doing a lap of the building, Daeun and Trixie decide to go into the theater to see the fifteen-minute short film. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook find a quiet little alcove near the entrance, chatting softly while watching the penguins behind the glass on the opposite wall.

“I haven’t been to the zoo in ages,” Jungkook admits. “Dae’s mom used to always take her, though. They always came back with a stuffed animal from the gift shop—you might’ve seen them in Daeun’s room, actually. She loves them.”

You nod. “I remember, yeah. It’s quite an impressive collection.” Then you hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip as you consider your next words and debate whether you’re being too nosy. “Daeun’s mom… can I ask what happened between you?” You pause, then quickly speak again. “And feel free to say no, obviously! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m probably just poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Jungkook smiles at you, but there’s a faraway quality to his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Nah, it’s okay. There’s really not much to tell, if I’m honest. Evelyn and I, we started dating when we were nineteen. We got married at twenty-three, had Daeun a couple years later, and then one day we realized that we’d become entirely different people and that we weren’t really in love anymore.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what else to say. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs and sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “No need to be sorry; it was a mutual thing. Totally amicable. We’re still friends, and we’re a pretty kickass co-parenting team too.”

The conversation continues, and you find out that Evelyn’s job took her overseas last year. According to Jungkook, she currently lives with her new boyfriend, who’s a little pretentious but completely harmless. And despite the six-hour time difference, Evelyn still finds the time to FaceTime Jungkook and Daeun every Sunday afternoon. Because of those calls, she’s apparently heard all about you, too—you’re her favorite teacher, remember? he’d said with a laugh.

“What about you, then?” Jungkook glances over at you inquiringly, his eyebrows raised. “Is it my turn to pry?”

You can tell from the melodious lilt in his tone that he’s teasing. “My story’s far less interesting than yours,” you answer, fiddling with a stray thread on your jacket sleeve. “I don’t have an ex-partner or anything like that. I’ve just always wanted to be a mother, so one day I decided that I was going to do it. I used a donor, got pregnant, and here we are.”

Jungkook takes this in slowly, nodding. “Do you… I mean, do you know who your donor is? Have you met him?”

You shake your head. “No, it was an anonymous thing. I got a profile and some information about his appearance and hobbies and stuff, but not much beyond that.”

“I—” Jungkook begins, before trailing off. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions. I don’t know a whole lot about the sperm donor thing, but I’m glad it worked out for you. Trixie’s an amazing kid.”

“She is,” you murmur. “I love her more than anything.”

“And you’re an amazing mom.” Jungkook’s voice grows softer, and when you turn to look at him, he seems closer than he was before. “I don’t know how you manage it all, teaching and parenting. But you do, and it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

You aren’t sure who leans in first. All you know is that one moment, you’re staring into Jungkook’s earnest brown eyes, and then in the next, you’re kissing him.

It starts soft. Cautious, even. His lips press against yours gently, once, before he pulls back for a breath. You can feel him exhale, the warmth fanning your cheeks. And then you pull him back in by his collar, fisting one hand in the knit material and finding the soft hair at his nape with the other.

Time slows to a standstill. Jungkook groans against your lips, and you feel the way it rumbles through his chest, the sensation sinking into your skin and settling straight in your core. His hands find your hips, and you wind both arms around his neck to pull him closer.

And then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, time starts ticking again. Reality crashes down around you in the form of familiar, boisterous voices rapidly heading your way. You and Jungkook only barely manage to untangle yourselves before Trixie and Daeun round the corner of the alcove, chattering excitedly about all the new penguin facts they’ve learned.

“Can we go to the petting zoo next?” Trixie asks, seemingly oblivious to your lingering embarrassment at nearly being caught.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. At your side, Jungkook is faring no better, shuffling his feet and refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, sure, bug,” you finally manage when you find your voice again. “Lead the way.”

///

Monday dawns cloudy and gray. The weather app on your phone promises thunderstorms later in the afternoon, but that isn’t enough to dampen your mood one bit. Instead, you thumb back over to your messages, your heart skipping a beat when you see the text still sitting at the very top.

[6:54am] Jungkook Jeon: Make sure to stop by bean there, done that before school. Left you a surprise ;)

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:

[6:56am] You: I’m a little scared. Should I be scared?

His answer comes in immediately. Nah. It’s a good surprise, I promise.

[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨

Biting back a grin, you tuck your phone into your bag and head toward the front door of your apartment, nearly tripping over Taco along the way, who has chosen that moment to start slinking between your legs.

“Really, Taco?” you ask the unperturbed calico cat at your feet. “What if I fell and cracked my head open? Who would feed you then, huh?”

As usual, Taco merely gives you an unimpressed look before flicking her tail and wandering off. Sighing, you call for Trixie to hurry up before turning to check your appearance in the mirror leaning against the wall of the entryway. It’s a large, vintage piece—a gold-framed, flea market find that you treasure dearly and swear makes you look good no matter how awful you might feel.

Satisfied, you hike your bag higher on your shoulder and smooth down the lapels of your coat. Trixie rounds the corner and gives herself a quick once-over too, and you give her a thumbs-up. “Ready, bug?”

“Yup!” she replies, tightening her grip on her and Daeun’s project—a carefully constructed shoebox diorama that shows a group of penguins in their natural icy habitat.

“Let’s go, then.” Opening the front door, you let her through before locking it up behind you. Together, you head out to the car, and Trixie ensures that her diorama is completely secured in the seat beside her while you check your mirrors and turn on the ignition.

The drive to Bean There, Done That! takes only about ten minutes. Jin waves cheerily when he spots you walking up to the counter, but his face positively lights up when he sees Trixie is with you. He absolutely adores your daughter—Trixie loves him too—and on the occasional instance you’ve had to call on him to babysit, the two of them always end up stuffed with food on the couch and giggling over bad puns.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” Jin asks, directing the question at Trixie, who beams at him before turning to look at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”

“That… actually sounds really good,” you admit. “Make that two. And Jin, did someone leave something here for me earlier?”

Jin grins. “Thought you’d never ask. This here is from one Mr. Jungkook Jeon.” Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a box and watches as you open the lid to reveal half a dozen cinnamon streusel bagels with a neatly folded napkin on top. Unfolding it, you can only laugh at the words written on it:

Hope you have a mug-nificient day!

“Just so you know, he stole that line from me,” Jin says with a sniff. “I’m not letting him take the credit.”

“Duly noted,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide your smile as you look down at the note again. After a couple beats, Jin clears his throat, and you glance up to see that he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Sooo,” he begins slowly, dragging out the single syllable, “I imagine you want a fresh napkin and a pen, unless… are you going to see Mr. Jungkook Jeon at some point?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as best you can. “Trixie was paired with his daughter for a school project, so we’ve been meeting up for the past few weeks so they can work on it. Now that that’s over with… I don’t really know. We’re both pretty busy.”

Jin scoffs. “That’s a lame excuse, especially since he’s clearly flirting with you. And—”

Unfortunately, Trixie interrupts before he can finish his sentence, skipping back over from where she had been examining the pastry display cases along the wall. “Can I have a lemon bar?”

You fix her with a stern look. “You already asked for the double chocolate cookie, remember? The lemon bars can wait until next time.” Then you turn back to Jin, reaching into your bag for your wallet. “We should probably get to school, anyhow. What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” he replies, handing over a paper bag with your cookies and a bottle of apple juice. “It’s already been taken care of.”

From the wink he sends your way, you know that it must have been Jungkook who doled out the extra cash for your breakfast. “Thanks, Jin,” you reply, handing Trixie the cookies and juice before accepting the cup of coffee he hands over. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” is his response. Trixie waves goodbye, and together, the two of you head back out to the car. It’s started drizzling since you arrived, and you thank your lucky stars that you’d managed to snag a parking spot right up front.

Your daughter seems to be deep in thought as you help her buckle her seatbelt, her lips pursed in concentration. Then, out of nowhere, she asks:

“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

“Mr. Jeon,” she repeats patiently, and you’re thankful that she’s not looking at you—instead, she’s focused on the raindrops splashing against the window and racing each other down the glass. “You spent a bunch of time with him when Daeun and I were doing school stuff. What’d you do?”

“Adult stuff,” you reply, before cursing inwardly at the potential implication behind your words. “Mostly, I spent my time grading homework. And he had some things to do for work, too.”

Trixie hums, apparently satisfied with this answer. “He’s nice,” she declares. “He buys us food and he has a cool house.”

“Sure,” you agree. “He’s a very nice man.”

And with that settled, you finish buckling her in her seat. Shutting the back door, you suck in a deep, calming breath before circling around to the driver’s side and setting off on the familiar route to Hybe Academy.

///

“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”

You blink and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Yes, of course. Please go on.” Hastily, you scribble down a few random words, hoping that will placate the parent sitting across from you. It’s parent-teacher conference week—and you’re beyond grateful that it’s Friday night as Mrs. Greene rambles on and on about how the school isn’t doing enough for her precious baby boy. She’s talking about how the school day should be extended now—or at least how teachers should watch after the children whose parents can’t pick them up right at three-thirty. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to understand. I mean, my husband is a very busy man, and I have my own business to run. I can’t be expected to drop everything in the middle of a client meeting to come pick Derrick up…

It takes everything in you not to snap at her. You know for a fact that her ��business” is selling bejeweled keychains on Etsy—and that they’re incredibly poorly made, if the reviews are anything to go by. Instead, you bite your tongue—hard enough to taste metal—and remind her that the school’s operating hours are not for you to decide.

After what feels like an eternity, the clock strikes seven, marking the end of her reserved time block. Standing up, you shake her hand and wish her a pleasant evening before opening your planner and checking to see if you have any more meetings. Your parents have Trixie for the night and there’s a bottle of wine on your kitchen counter calling your name, and you cannot wait to get home and relax in the bath with a glass. Maybe, you think, I’ll even do a face mask.

The final name written in your planner stops you in your tracks. You haven’t seen him in over a week—not since that Monday when he left you half a dozen bagels at the coffee shop. The girls had insisted on meeting up that evening to celebrate turning their project in, so you’d all gone to a popular taco joint.

And then there’s a knock on your door, the three raps pulling you right out of your musings.

Silhouetted there in the doorframe is Jungkook Jeon, decked out in a polished charcoal suit and wearing a smile that makes your insides lurch dangerously in your chest. His dark hair is parted on the side, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his brow piercing glinting behind the hair that’s loose across his forehead. “Hi,” he says, his voice low, and you have to remind yourself that it’s impolite to stare as you find your voice.

“Hi yourself.”

He grins, baring the adorably prominent front teeth that you hate to admit you’ve grown rather fond of. “You look like you weren’t expecting me.”

“Oh, no. I just wasn’t expecting you on time,” you retort, gesturing to the plastic chair sitting across from your desk. “Your track record is questionable, at best.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah, sorry about that. I made sure to leave plenty early this time, just in case I ran into traffic. Or if Bobby decided to corner me in the elevator again—that guy really doesn’t know when to shut up.” He pauses. “Wait, I told you about him, right? Works on the development team, owns one singular tie? Balding but tries to hide it with a bad combover?”

“That rings a bell,” you reply. “The tie is red and Christmas-themed, right?”

“Sure is.” Jungkook chuckles. “I thought they might’ve been polka dots the first time I met him, but nope. Christmas ornaments, even in the middle of July.”

You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”

“Seriously. Don’t even get me started on the rest of his clothes,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Here, let’s change the subject. Have you eaten yet?”

You gesture around your classroom, artificially lit with fluorescent light even as the sun begins to dip closer to the horizon. “Nope. I mean, I had about twenty minutes between the end of the school day and the start of my first meeting, so I scarfed down an apple in the break room. But that was hours ago.”

“Perfect.” At your look of disbelief, he chortles and quickly amends his phrasing. “Sorry, I just mean that I’ve got you covered. Here, look.” And he begins pulling things out of a paper bag that you hadn’t noticed him carrying before. Crackers, sliced baguette, an assortment of cured meats and cheeses, grapes. He produces a bottle of wine next, and you very nearly start clapping.

The last thing he pulls out is a single red rose, his smile soft and warm and dizzyingly affectionate as he presents it to you. “I—wow.” You aren’t sure what to say. “Thank you. I… I feel like I should’ve prepared something. Stolen an apple for you from the teacher’s lounge, at least.”

Jungkook snorts. “Well, here’s something you can help me out with. I don’t actually have glasses for the wine. Totally spaced and forgot that we’d need them. Any ideas?”

You’re on your feet before he can even finish asking. “I teach elementary schoolers, Mr. Jeon. I always have cups.”

Making your way to the cabinet by the window, you grab a box of little paper cups and pull out two. Jungkook accepts them when you hand them over, and you watch as he unscrews the cap on the wine bottle before pouring out two generous helpings. Together, you lay out the food he’s brought, spreading it across whatever empty space there is on your desk. “Cheers,” Jungkook says once you’ve both taken your seats again, raising his paper cup to tap against yours.

“Cheers.”

For a moment, there is silence as you both take a drink. Then Jungkook speaks, glancing up at you as he carefully begins crafting himself a mini salami and cheese sandwich. “So, where does Trixie stay while you’re doing all these meetings? Do your parents have her?”

You nod, taking another much-needed sip of wine. “Yeah, my mom picked her up after school. They actually have her until Sunday—my dad’s going to teach her how to fish tomorrow, and then I think they’re going to build a pillow fort.”

Jungkook chuckles around a mouthful of gouda. “I love a good pillow fort. Dae insists on building one at least once a week, and at this point, I’m honestly surprised there isn’t one permanently in her bedroom.”

Grinning, you reach for a cracker and some cheese. “Taco manages to destroy every pillow fort Trixie and I try to make. She either decides it’s a trampoline, or that it’s a good time to start scratching everything she can reach. We can’t win.”

“Sounds like you need better defenses,” Jungkook replies, waggling his eyebrows. “That, or you can come over whenever you need a pillow fort fix. I’m sure Dae and Trixie would create something truly epic together. I mean, that penguin diorama was pretty fucking cool, wasn’t it?”

“Very fucking cool,” you agree, and both of you burst into laughter.

Deep blue twilight settles outside as the two of you continue chatting over your makeshift meal. The cheese begins to dwindle, only a few lonely grapes remain on their stems, and when you go to top of your wine, you realize there’s less than a quarter of the bottle left.

“Wow, we really put a dent in this thing,” you remark, holding it out for Jungkook to see. “And it’s already dark out. The time kind of got away from us, huh?”

“You won’t catch me complaining,” Jungkook replies, tipping the last of his drink into his mouth. “I’m enjoying spending time with you.”

You can’t help but smile at his earnest honesty. “Me too.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you rise from your seat. At the same time, Jungkook stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk, making his way around to meet you halfway. And then his mouth is on yours, warm and firm in a way that makes your heart do a backflip before plunking straight into your churning stomach.

Jungkook’s hands find your hips, palming along the flowy material of your dress before finding a resting place just above the soft curve of your rear. Your fingers delve into the soft hair at his nape to tug him closer, and he groans against your lips when your nails rake across his scalp. Slowly, he begins trailing kisses from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, pausing to lavish attention on any spots that make you gasp or squirm in his grasp.

The growing hardness against your lower belly is growing more and more evident with each passing second. Deliberately, you slide one hand down his chest, admiring the toned ridges of his abdomen that you can feel through his white shirt, before making your way down past his silver belt buckle. Jungkook inhales sharply when you cup his hardening cock through the charcoal material of his slacks, and, emboldened, you thumb across the head and relish in his resulting groan.

Any caution you may have had is thrown to the wind. Adjusting your grip, you shiver when you realize that he’s now fully hard beneath your fingertips, his erection thick and hot through the fabric. You try and visualize what it looks like underneath it all—the color of the flared head, the veins that run along it, the curve of the shaft, if there is one. And then you realize that you don’t have to imagine—you can look. You can rip his clothes off and explore every inch of his body in the way you’ve been itching to since you first kissed at the zoo last week. Your hands scrabble for his belt buckle, fumbling with the silver prong embedded in its notch.

“W-wait.” Jungkook’s hand lands over yours, and you note the breathlessness in his voice with satisfaction. “I… this is probably cheesy, but this isn’t how I pictured this happening. Not that I don’t like what’s happening, but I just… I’d like to take you out first. On a proper date, I mean. Without our girls in the next room, or down the hall, or in the museum playplace wreaking havoc.”

“That does sound nice,” you admit. “Actually, I’d really enjoy that. I haven’t been on a proper date in years.”

“Let’s do it, then,” Jungkook says. “My babysitter’s already been paid to watch Daeun until midnight, and your parents have Trixie. This is kinda perfect.”

You can’t help it—you drag your thumb across the head of his still-hard cock again and revel in the way his breath hitches just a little bit in his throat. “Midnight?” you query with an innocent tilt of your head. “Were you expecting something to happen tonight?”

“Hoping,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “And wait, let me ask you out properly. It just wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”

Confused, you let him stand from his seat and slip around you to retrieve the paper bag on the ground. Understanding dawns when he reaches inside and grabs a napkin, and you watch on in amusement as he takes a pen from the cup on your desk and begins writing. And after a few seconds, he wordlessly presents this to you:

Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)

And you can only laugh. “Game on, mister.”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts #bts smut #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #jeon jungkook #kpop scenarios #single parent au #teacher au #single parent!au #teacher!au #lia writes

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thirstydemisexual · 3 months ago

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the batfamily meeting the single parent! reader and the kid

expanding on these headcanons.

after a several months of dating Jason ask you to meet his family(totally not forced by Alfred who figured out he was seeing someone)

first lets get out the way that yes, the moment Jason introduces you to the family BRUCE IS GONNA PANIC. He would ask to speak to Jason alone and will surely go down the whole talk of "you are putting them in danger"

they are gonna fight a pit back and forth but as soon as Bruce understands that Jason is serious about you and the kid he gives in

not that Jason would have stopped dating you because of his father disapproval but it did piss him off that he thought he wasn't serious and was just having a fling with you

the rest of the family has the same fears for your safety but they are far more welcoming

Steph and Duke pass all the night playing with the kid.

Your kid tho seems far more interested in Alfred the cat, which result in her chasing him, and by consequence Damian almost killing a toddler because they were harrassing his cat.

Dick by far is the most teasing but, it was to be expected. He keep bringing up childhood antics about Jason that absolutely has him red as a tomato

AND IF THE KID IS A REDHEAD

well you bet one of them is gonna make a comment about how he could be Jasons kid

cue you being absolutely shocked to hear that he's a natural redhead(I know its just in some old comics but let me have fun) and acting absolutely betrayed

after all is said and done he goes to escort you home but before he and you guys can leave Alfred and Bruce stops him and tell him to bring you around more and that they liked you.

He was sooooo happy about them accepting you. Having Alfred approve of you was everything to him, it would have broke him otherwise. And yes he was very happy that his father approved too but he'd never say that

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x single parent!reader #jason todd #batfamily x reader #batfamily

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edenesth · 1 year ago

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One Day at a Time

Pairing: kindergarten teacher!Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: single parent au

Word Count: 15.4k

Summary: Seonghwa, a dedicated kindergarten teacher, had sworn off dating to focus on his job, but everything changes when he meets you, the aunt of one of his students. As you navigate the challenges of parenthood together, a deep connection blossoms. What happens when he finds himself falling in love despite his resolve to stay single?

A/N: Inspired by that episode of ATEEZ on Ch'i'ld Cloud and that time when Seonghwa mentioned how he'd be a kindergarten teacher had he not been an idol.

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Dude, you need to get yourself a girlfriend if you love kids this much." Joy quipped with a grin.

She glanced at Seonghwa as they both stood at the kindergarten entrance. She couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him, knowing how dedicated he was to his job. She went on about her blissful relationship with her long-term boyfriend, her eyes shining with love and contentment.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as he helped one of the kids put on their tiny shoes. His heart was full from a day spent with these precious little ones, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Worry about yourself, Joy," He retorted playfully, "I have the kids here to keep me busy; I don't need to have my own."

The children, sensing it was time to go home, were excitedly rushing off into the waiting arms of their parents. Seonghwa watched them, his own heart warming as he knew he played a part in their day.

As most of the children had left, he noticed one of the students from his class still seated by the bench near the entrance. Little Eunji, her big brown eyes brimming with anticipation, watched with a pout as her friends left one by one with their parents. Concerned, he crouched down beside her, "Eunji? Are your parents not here yet?"

Just as she was about to respond, her eyes lit up with joy, and a radiant smile spread across her face.

"Eunji-yah, I'm here!"

You called out, your voice filled with warmth, and you appeared at the entrance. The child squealed in delight and darted into your arms, wrapping herself around you. You, on the other hand, looked exhausted as you huffed tiredly, "Sorry, I'm late, sweetheart. I came as fast as I could from work."

The child shook her tiny head, nuzzling even closer to you, clearly relieved to have you there. The teacher watched the touching reunion, his heart swelling with tenderness as he observed the connection between you both.

When you finally stood up properly and turned to Seonghwa to thank him for his hard work, he felt his breath momentarily knocked out of his chest by how breathtaking you looked.

"Oh, you must be Mr. Park, Eunji's class teacher," You said warmly, extending your hand to him, "Listen, thank you so much for always watching after her. I apologise for constantly being late. I promise I'll try to come earlier."

He was at a loss for words, completely captivated by your presence. He stammered, "N-no problem at all, really. It's just my job." He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, and it was only when Eunji tugged at his pants that he snapped out of his trance.

"Thank you, Teacher Hwa! Bye-bye!" The child chimed in, her adorable voice breaking his momentary stupor.

Seonghwa smiled, finally regaining his composure.

"Oh, right! No worries at all. I'm always ready to take care of all the kids. Have a safe trip home, you two!" He waved as you and Eunji walked away, hand in hand.

He continued to watch as you left, his gaze lingering on your retreating figures. There was an undeniable attraction and a curiosity he couldn't ignore.

No, Park Seonghwa, this is wrong.

He battled with his own internal conflict, constantly reminding himself that his attraction toward you was inappropriate.

After all, you were the mother of one of his students. It was his duty to ensure the well-being of the children in his class, and allowing these feelings to grow was risky.

As he observed you during each drop-off and pick-up, he couldn't help wondering about your personal life. Your exhaustion was evident, and he speculated about where your husband might be. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps you were divorced, widowed, or going through some other personal hardship.

But he knew that these were sensitive topics, and he didn't want to pry or make you uncomfortable.

He was torn between his genuine concern for your well-being and his internal struggle to contain his growing attraction. He knew he had to find a way to balance his feelings and responsibilities, and he was determined to do so in a way that was respectful and considerate of your feelings as well.

Other than that, he found himself in a moral dilemma.

He understood that, as a teacher, it was his responsibility to treat all the children equally and not play favourites. But ever since he met you, it became increasingly challenging not to pay extra attention to Eunji. He was acutely aware of how tired you were, raising her on your own, and he felt a sense of responsibility to be even more attentive to the child for your sake.

Besides, it was hard not to notice that Eunji was one of the sweetest and most well-mannered kids he's ever taught. She displayed a level of consideration and maturity far beyond her age.

He truly admired your parenting skills, as it was evident that your love and care have moulded Eunji into such a wonderful and well-behaved child. He admired the kind of mother you were to the child, and it only deepened his attraction to you.

One day during lunch while they watched over the kids, Joy playfully nudged him on the shoulder, "Is it just me, or have you been playing favourites lately? I see you've grown a liking to little Eunji. I mean, I can't blame you; she's literally a sweetheart. But dude, I thought you were more professional than that."

Seonghwa froze in his tracks, realising that he hadn't been as subtle as he thought.

Joy's comment hit close to home, making him acutely aware of the unspoken truth. He had grown closer to Eunji, and it was impossible to deny that it was because of the connection he felt with you, the child's dedicated and loving guardian.

He contemplated whether he should talk to his closest colleague about the undeniable attraction he felt for you. He was torn between wanting to confide in someone and the fear of making things even more complicated. The feeling was eating him up inside, and he knew he needed to address it somehow.

Joy noticed the genuine conflict in his expression, which was far deeper than she initially expected. Concerned, she straightened up, "Dude, I was just playing with you, man. You good?"

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip before he hesitantly began, "Eunji's mother... she's a remarkable woman, isn't she?"

Joy's expression turned solemn at the mention of the child's parent, "Indeed, she was," The past tense in her response caught Seonghwa's attention, and he furrowed his brow, puzzled, "That's weird, why would you say it like that?"

She scratched her head, genuinely perplexed, "What do you mean?"

He placed his hands on his hips and stared at her, unamused, "You literally said 'was' instead of 'is,' like she's dead or something."

At this revelation, Joy blinked in surprise, "Umm, maybe because she is dead? I thought you knew, that's why you're bringing her up."

Seonghwa shot up from his seat immediately, his eyes wide with shock, "W-what do you mean?! I just saw her drop Eunji off this morning!"

That's when his colleague slapped a palm over her forehead, realising the mix-up, "Bruh, that's not Eunji's mother! That's her aunt, you doofus!"

He sat back down in his seat, his mind racing to process the new information. He felt a mix of embarrassment, surprise, and curiosity, "Wait, what? That's her... aunt?" He croaked, finally comprehending the revelation that upended his assumptions. He's been mistaken all along, wrongly assuming that you were Eunji's mother.

As he replayed all the interactions he's had with you, the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together differently.

It dawned on him that the dynamic he perceived between you and Eunji was not that of a mother and child but of a dedicated aunt taking on the role of guardian. This realisation left Seonghwa with a newfound sense of hope, a chance he'd never imagined before.

His heart began to race, not only from the embarrassment of his mistake but also from the realisation that his feelings for you were no longer encumbered by the thought of you being a married woman.

"Yeah, poor Eunji's parents died in a tragic car accident about a year ago. Her aunt was left with no choice but to care for her all alone, especially since Eunji's grandparents were all gone too. From what I know, she's been struggling quite a bit, trying to adjust her life to the sudden new addition of a child. It must be extremely difficult, so if you're trying to say she's remarkable, I completely agree with you." Joy clarified the situation, finally giving Seonghwa the full picture of the story.

He absorbed this information, his heart aching for the difficult circumstances you've been navigating. The admiration he felt for you deepened even more, not only for the love and care you provided to Eunji but also for the strength and resilience you displayed during such challenging times.

He realised that he's been drawn to you not just because of his attraction but because of the genuine respect and appreciation he held for the way you've handled the situation.

The relief of finding out you weren't Eunji's mother was quite apparent on his face, and Joy, with her mischievous grin, didn't miss a beat. She wagged her finger at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "Well, well, well, guess who has a crush on his student's guardian."

His eyes widened in realisation, knowing he'd been caught red-handed, "Wha—"

She interrupted him, not letting him evade the truth.

"Don't even bother trying to hide it, I see through you. It's about damn time, Park Seonghwa! I was starting to think you were hopeless, but you're making me proud now," She wiped a fake tear off her face dramatically, causing him to roll his eyes and playfully smack her on the arm, "Oh, shut up, it's just a little crush."

But that didn't deter Joy as she continued to tease him with a mischievous grin, "Oh, just a little crush, huh?"

Before she could carry on with her good-natured ribbing, the bell rang, signalling that lunchtime was over. Seonghwa let out a sigh of relief as the students began to file back into the classroom.

The whirlwind of emotions and revelations during lunch left him slightly breathless, but it also ignited a spark of hope and anticipation for what the future might hold.

Today was one of those days when you were terribly late to pick up your niece from kindergarten. Seonghwa and Joy were the only ones left with the child, and as the sky grew dark and the school closed its doors, a sense of unease settled in.

Seonghwa has been trying to reach you, but his calls have unfortunately gone unanswered.

He knelt beside Eunji, trying to reassure the child, whose eyes were welling up with tears, "Hey, hey, it's alright. Your aunty's going to be here soon, I promise," The child's voice trembled as she voiced her fear, "What if aunty leaves me like mummy and daddy?" Joy shook her head, her heart going out to the young girl, "Of course not! Your aunty is coming, I know it!"

Just as her words settled Eunji's nerves, you finally arrived, out of breath and visibly shaken. Your hands were bruised and bloodied, and you looked exhausted. Your niece's tears turned into relief as she spotted you and rushed into your arms, "Aunty!"

You held her tightly, sighing tiredly into her hair as you stroked the back of her head. The teachers approached you, worry etched across their faces as they immediately noticed the dishevelled state you were in. The concern was evident in their eyes, and they exchanged silent glances as they contemplated how to address the situation.

Seonghwa immediately sprang into action, helping you pick up your work bag that had fallen to the floor. Joy, with a look of genuine concern, guided you to the nearest bench.

"Are you alright?" She asked gently.

You sighed heavily, wincing slightly as she examined your injuries, "I was held back by an important meeting today, and while I was rushing to get here, a bike nearly ran into me! Thankfully, a kind stranger managed to pull me out of the way just in time. I guess I'm lucky these are the only injuries I sustained."

Seonghwa frowned, sitting down beside you with Eunji on his lap, the worry etched across his face, "What happened to your car?"

You bit your lip and rubbed your neck sheepishly.

"It's in the workshop waiting to be serviced, but I'm kinda short on money lately, so I can't afford it for the time being. But I promise I won't let that stop me from coming to pick Eunji up on time again! I'm so sorry for the trouble I've caused you both."

Joy shook her head in understanding and quickly moved into the school to grab some plasters for your injured hands. Seonghwa, on the other hand, sat there with furrowed brows, deeply concerned not just about the car but about the tough situation you were in.

He couldn't bear to see you in this predicament and decided that he had to step in and help, otherwise, he would never forgive himself, "How are you going to get home then?" He asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

You were visibly contemplating your options, knowing that walking home with Eunji would be challenging but not wanting to burden the teachers further, "We'll... we'll walk home, we don't live that far from here anyway." It was at that moment that Joy returned with the necessary first aid supplies, and she shook her head in a determined manner.

"Absolutely not, Seonghwa will take you both home." She insisted. She then turned her attention to your injured hands, gently cleaning the wounds and applying the plasters.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head furiously, feeling guilty about imposing further, "N-no, please, Mr. Park, you don't have to! Gosh, I've troubled you enough. I can't possibly expect that from you."

But Seonghwa simply smiled, ruffling Eunji's hair as she giggled, "Don't worry about it; I want to help. Besides, I have nowhere to be after work, and you say you don't stay far from here, right?"

You nodded shyly, feeling a mix of emotions.

No one has ever been so generous to you before, and the fact that your niece's kind and handsome teacher was going out of his way to assist you touched your heart. The attraction you've been feeling for him has been growing, but now, it has become even more undeniable. Seonghwa's kindness and generosity were drawing you closer to him.

His warm smile filled you with gratitude, "Oh, and please, just call me Seonghwa from now on."

You smiled in response, relieved that he was making an effort to be closer to you, "Okay. Thank you, Seonghwa."

Meanwhile, his colleague pretended to gag behind you, making him throw her an annoyed glare, "Go home, Joy. Your boyfriend must be worried." He said, attempting to make her leave him alone.

Joy smirked, knowing he wanted to be alone with you.

"Alright, alright. I'll get going first then. I trust Seonghwa to take good care of you two. See you tomorrow, Eunji-yah!" She said as she waved to your niece, who beamed in response.

"Bye-bye, Teacher Joy!" The child called out with excitement as Joy finally left, leaving you and Seonghwa alone.

The three of you settled into Seonghwa's car, with little Eunji securely buckled in the back seat. He gave a playful question, asking, "Are you ready?" Your chuckles filled the car when the child responded with excitement, shouting, "Yes! Let's go, Teacher Hwa!"

As you made your way home, he gathered the courage to ask you, "So, do you have any food prepared at home for dinner?"

It was then that you realised you'd forgotten to prepare anything, and you hurriedly replied, "Oh, no! I forgot all about stocking up on groceries, but it's fine! Just drop us home, I'll run to the nearest convenience store and take care of it."

He pursed his lips and shook his head firmly, "No way, I'm taking you two to dinner, and we can go grocery shopping together. How's that sound, Eunji-yah?" He asked, glancing at the young girl, who cheered and clapped happily, her enthusiasm melting your heart.

"But—" You were about to protest, but Seonghwa cut you off, "No 'buts,' we're doing this."

You nodded in defeat, acknowledging that he was being genuinely kind and helpful, "Oh, alright, I owe you for this."

He grinned, fully aware that he had an opportunity to get to know you better and earn your trust. He didn't want to rush things or scare you away, so he was determined to be patient and take things one step at a time.

The teacher took you and Eunji to a cosy little Chinese restaurant and ordered everything you both wanted to eat, even when you protested and told him that you couldn't possibly eat that much. He insisted, his kindness and attentiveness shining through.

You've known that he was a good and caring man; his reputation at the kindergarten made that clear. He was incredibly popular among the parents, not just for his handsome looks but for his genuine compassion and warmth.

As you observed his sweet interactions with Eunji, your heart warmed even more. You realised how much your niece must have missed having a father figure in her life, and Seonghwa was filling that role beautifully during this dinner.

All this time, you've been juggling the responsibilities of both mother and father ever since your sister and brother-in-law had left the world so suddenly. It was a heavy burden, and Seonghwa's presence and the genuine care he showed not only to Eunji but to you as well, were like a breath of fresh air.

As you ate, he found himself staring at the injuries on your hand. Concern for you had taken root in his heart, and he couldn't ignore the fact that you were facing financial difficulties, struggling to even afford car servicing.

The memory of your near accident weighed heavily on his mind, and he decided to broach the subject.

He cleared his throat and spoke gently, "Listen, the situation with your car worries me, especially considering what happened today. How about this? I could drop you off at work in the mornings and pick you up in the evenings. You won't have to worry about your safety, and it would be no trouble at all for me to take Eunji to school with me."

You rejected his offer, grateful for his kindness but concerned about the burden it would place on him, "Seonghwa, you've done so much for us already, and I appreciate it more than you can know. But I couldn't possibly ask you to go through all this trouble. I don't know how I could ever repay you if you did."

He placed his chopsticks down, his expression serious and determined, and he sighed lightly.

"Trust me, I understand that you feel bad, but I promise you're not taking advantage of anything. I genuinely want to help you. If not for yourself, at least accept it for Eunji's sake. You have no idea how scared she was today when you showed up late. She... was afraid you'd leave her like her parents did."

Your eyes widened at the realisation, and you immediately shook your head, pulling your niece closer to you and pressing kisses all over her head as you assured her that you'd never leave her. The thought of Eunji feeling abandoned like that was heartbreaking.

After a moment of contemplation, you realised he was right. You reluctantly agreed, thanking him profusely for his generous offer. His kindness and genuine concern for you and Eunji touched you, and you were so grateful for his presence in your life.

You had an incredibly enjoyable time at the supermarket with Seonghwa after the hearty meal. It has been a long while since you'd had this much fun, and he made sure to spoil your niece with snacks and toys, occasionally sneaking in a few items he noticed you eyeing without your knowledge. The joy on Eunji's face was priceless, and you couldn't help but smile.

As he stood at your apartment entrance with the child asleep in his arms, you opened the door wider to let him in. If he found your small studio apartment cramped, he didn't mention it. He carefully placed Eunji on your queen-sized bed, tucking her in with a soft smile.

You led him quietly back to the entrance, feeling immensely grateful for all that he's done, "Thank you so much for everything, Seonghwa. I will pay you back for it all someday, I promise."

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Don't worry about any of that, just... take good care of Eunji and yourself. That's enough repayment."

His words touched you deeply, and you bit back your tears.

"Alright then, I'll pick you two up at 7am tomorrow morning," He said, a hint of warmth in his eyes, "We'll be ready by then! Drive safe, Seonghwa. Text me when you get home."

His heart skipped a beat at your concern, and he stammered, "Y-yeah, I will. See you!" He gave you a gentle smile before departing, leaving you with a feeling of warmth and a newfound connection that was growing stronger with each passing day.

The next morning, you and Eunji got ready and waited by your apartment entrance at 6:55am. True to his word, Seonghwa arrived right on the dot at 7am. Your niece's face lit up with excitement when she saw her favourite teacher approaching.

"Good morning, Teacher Hwa!" She called out, waving her tiny arm enthusiastically.

You smiled warmly at him, "Good morning, Seonghwa."

He greeted you both and came to help you place the child in her seat at the back, expertly buckling her up. He then ran over to your side and opened the door for you, even when you protested that there was no need to.

"Here, I prepared this for you so you don't start work with an empty stomach." He said, pulling out a bag containing a carefully crafted homemade bento set.

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Oh my, Seonghwa! You're too kind; you really didn't have to! I'm already so thankful you're offering to drive me to and from work."

He blushed slightly, "Well, I... I made extra, so I thought I'd pack you some of the leftovers as well. Don't worry about it, please."

You bit your lip, sensing that he was downplaying his generosity, but you decided not to push him any further, "Alright. Thank you so much, Seonghwa."

He beamed and began driving you to your workplace. As you rode along, a sense of gratitude filled your heart, and you realised that his presence brought light and warmth in a way you hadn't expected.

Seonghwa pulled up outside your office building right on time.

As you got out of the car, you couldn't contain your smile when you saw your friend and colleague, San, waiting at the entrance for you.

San offered to give you a lift after finding out about your near accident, but you told him that you already had it covered, without going into too much detail. So, he was quite surprised to see you arriving in another man's car. What surprised him even more was seeing your little niece in the backseat as well.

You exited the vehicle, making sure to wave at Eunji before bowing in gratitude at Seonghwa as he drove away.

San couldn't resist teasing you when you finally walked up to him, "Ooh, who was that? Don't tell me you found yourself a boyfriend already! And don't think I didn't notice little Eunji sitting in the back as well. You better spill, woman."

You burst out laughing, smacking him on the arm playfully before spilling the details about Seonghwa and his kindness. As you shared the story, your colleague listened with interest, chuckling along with you at the heartwarming tale.

As you both settled into your cubicles, with San's desk just opposite yours, he continued to tease you, "You know what, I think he has a crush on you. He literally hasn't even known you that long, and he's doing all this for you? Girl, I'm calling it."

You shook your head, feeling the blush on your cheeks as you waved him off, "Sannie, please, I honestly doubt it. I think it's more likely that he's taking pity on us and probably just has a soft spot for Eunji. Besides, what man would want to get themselves into this?"

He frowned, not liking the way you were so self-deprecating, "Into what?"

You blinked, taken aback, "Isn't it obvious? I'm basically a single parent, and I could barely take care of myself. Who in their right mind would want to take on this burden?"

San narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at you, "No, I won't allow you to sit here and talk about yourself like that."

Before he could further give you his pep talk to remind you of how wrong you were about yourself, your manager stepped into the office, immediately throwing your friend a warning glare. He was notorious for gossiping during work hours, and your superior has been out to get him ever since she first caught him slacking off.

San pouted and sank into his seat reluctantly, but not before giving you a look that said, "This isn't over."

You sighed, appreciating his concern but not wanting to give yourself false hope. Seonghwa was almost too good to be true, and it would be cruel to let yourself believe that you stood a chance with him when he was probably just that nice of a guy and likely only wanted to help as Eunji's teacher.

Focusing on your work, you reminded yourself that, regardless of the future, you had to continue to be the best parent and guardian you could be for Eunji. Whatever may come, the bond that was forming between you, your niece, and Seonghwa was already a gift in itself.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa arrived at the kindergarten with Eunji in his arms. The sight of him carrying the little girl caused Joy to raise her eyebrows mischievously. He rolled his eyes, fully aware that she wasn't going to let him live this down, especially after he shared the events that unfolded the night before.

Joy had always been quick to pick up on his emotions and seemed to have a knack for getting him to spill the beans about his personal life. As he headed into the kindergarten with Eunji, he knew that he was in for another one of his colleague's teasing sessions.

After setting your niece down in her classroom and watching her run off to play with her classmates, he wasn't surprised to see Joy blocking his way with a devious grin.

She wasted no time in getting to the point.

"So, I take it last evening went incredibly well," She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, "You're welcome, by the way. When you do get married to her, I better be the maid of honour."

He scoffed in disbelief, "Aren't you thinking a little too far ahead? I'm literally a long way from even earning her complete trust. I'd be lucky if she even considered me her friend, and you're joking about marriage, really?"

Joy smirked and nudged him on the shoulder, "Oh, come on, but you do want it to happen, don't you?"

He blinked, stammering, "Sh-shut up, Joy. It's too early to tell."

She snickered, "Oh, is it?" Before she could continue, the bell saved him again as she went to her own class, but not before sending him more teasing looks.

He sighed and shook his head, trying to focus on his work, but he couldn't help thinking about the bond that was slowly forming between him, you, and Eunji. The future was uncertain, but for the time being, he couldn't deny that he was becoming more and more hopeful about what might come next.

Unbeknownst to you and Seonghwa, you had both been on each other's minds the entire day.

As the hours passed, you were equally looking forward to seeing each other again after work. Your lunch breaks were spent enduring playful teasing from your colleagues in your respective ways, but with the thought of getting off work on your minds, you both managed to power through more easily.

Seonghwa, perhaps a bit more than you, was lucky enough to be surrounded by adorable children all day. In contrast, you were piled with endless reports to write and deadlines to meet.

Despite your different work environments, both of you sighed with relief at the same time when the clock struck 6pm. Your hearts fluttered at the thought of meeting again soon, as if the anticipation was a shared connection between the two of you.

"Bye-bye, Teacher Joy!" Eunji waved excitedly, her tiny arms holding onto Seonghwa's shoulders as he carried her to his car. He was preparing to leave the kindergarten and pick you up from work.

He resisted the urge to flip Joy off, who was still wiggling her brows playfully at him and sticking her tongue out to provoke him. Instead, he focused on your niece, giving her a reassuring smile before moving to get into his car.

The car ride to pick you up felt like an eternity, even though it was just a short drive. He was eager to see you, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He couldn't help thinking about how your evening together might unfold and whether you'd been looking forward to it as much as he had. As he pulled up to your workplace, he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the thought of seeing you again.

Seonghwa eventually spotted you emerging from the office, but you were with your male colleague from that morning who was tugging you by the wrist. He knew it was irrational, but he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing you so close to another man who wasn't him.

Your colleague, after spotting his car already waiting, immediately beamed and waved a hand in greeting. Seonghwa nodded back politely, smiling tightly as he watched San ruffle your hair before helping you open the car door.

"Hi, I'm San! Nice to meet you, Seonghwa. She's told me a lot about you. Thank you for helping my friend out; it means a lot!" Your colleague's friendly introduction made it clear that he was just looking out for you.

Seonghwa quickly realised that San was just being friendly and shook his head, "Oh, it's nice to meet you too, San. Please, don't mention it."

San turned to wave excitedly at your niece, "Hey, Eunji-yah!" The child bounced in her seat, "Hi, uncle Sannie!" He cooed before saying his goodbyes and left, not without sending you a devious smile that made you roll your eyes.

Seonghwa was surprised to learn that San and Eunji were already acquainted. He tried to be subtle as he inquired, "Oh, have San and Eunji already met? They seem familiar with each other."

You chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, Sannie's a rather close friend of mine outside of work. He has been over at my place a few times to help out when things get a little overwhelming for me alone."

He made sure to smile widely and nodded slowly, hiding any hint of envy he might have felt. He wanted to be the one to help you out, and he silently promised himself that he would try to be there for you more from now on. He wanted to be the one who made a difference in your life, and he was determined to earn your trust and affection.

Days turned into weeks, and your mornings and evenings with Seonghwa transformed into a comforting routine. He continued to pack you food, despite your protests, and consistently treated you and Eunji to delightful dinners before taking you home.

Over the course of several months, he evolved into a strong pillar of support in your life.

Thanks to his constant presence and willingness to help, you rarely had to ask San for assistance anymore. Seonghwa's reliability eased the burden that life had placed upon your shoulders. He became a source of comfort, and your niece slowly began to see him as a father figure, looking up to him with admiration and affection.

As you spent more time with him, he continuously surprised you with his endless caring and attentive gestures. Whether it was helping you prepare meals, being there to pick you up after work, or simply offering a reassuring presence, he went above and beyond what was expected of a teacher.

Your heart began to race more each day, your affection for him growing as you appreciated the little things he did, even when he didn't need to.

You didn't realise the extent of your reliance on Seonghwa until one fateful night when Eunji's cries woke you up from your sleep. You pushed yourself off of your bed, rushing to her side to check on her.

Panic welled up in your chest as you saw her clutching her stomach and crying out in pain.

"It hurts, aunty... it hurts." She whimpered, her small face contorted in agony. Your heart nearly stopped as she screamed in pain when you tried to lift her up, "Oh no, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, my angel. It's okay... it's going to be okay." Tears welled in your eyes, and your heart ached to see her in so much distress.

You felt helpless, not knowing what to do to ease her pain.

Not daring to move the child further in fear of hurting her even more, you scrambled to grab your phone instead. Feeling frustrated and frantic, you dialled your first contact, which was supposed to be San, but it went straight to voicemail, indicating that his phone was likely turned off.

Your heart sank, and tears rolled down your cheeks as you rushed back to your niece's side, trying to comfort her while trembling with fear. You needed help immediately, and with no other options, you dialled Seonghwa's number.

It took him a moment, but he eventually picked up, his voice filled with urgency, "Hey, is everything alright?" He must have known that something was terribly wrong for you to call at this late hour.

You struggled to keep your voice steady as you spoke to him, your fear and desperation were evident in your shaky words, "S-Seonghwa... please help. I-I'm so scared... God, she's in pain, and I d-don't know what to do..."

Seonghwa didn't waste a second.

He was already up and getting changed the moment he heard you call out to him so vulnerably. His heart lurched in his chest as he tried to comfort you over the phone.

"Alright, I'm going to need you to breathe with me first. Can you do that? Don't hang up; I'm coming over right now, and I'll stay with you on the phone. We'll get through this together, okay? I'll be there before you know it. It'll be okay."

His calming words and the thought of his imminent arrival were like a lifeline, and you did your best to follow his instructions and regulate your breathing. You clung to the phone, thankful for his presence and reassuring voice as you waited for him.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. You held your niece tightly, whispering soothing words to her while you awaited his arrival.

Relief washed over you as you heard the knock at the door. You swung it open and cried out his name in gratitude, quickly pulling him into your unit. He knelt down beside your niece, and you could see the worry in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Teacher Hwa... it hurts." Eunji sobbed, clutching her belly.

Seonghwa gently felt her forehead, his expression turning more serious as he realised she was running a fever.

"It's okay, I'm here now. We'll take you to the hospital, and all the pain will go away real soon, okay?" He reassured her. She nodded as best she could, her trust in Seonghwa evident in her teary eyes. While he comforted her, you rushed around, packing a bag with some clothes and necessities for the hospital.

He approached you and steadied your shaking hands, "Hey, it's going to be okay. I think she has appendicitis; it's pretty common for kids. Don't worry too much, alright?" His calm and reassuring words helped to alleviate some of your anxiety.

Seonghwa's experience and expertise in such situations were a tremendous comfort. He carefully lifted Eunji from your bed and placed her in his car while you quickly got into the back seat, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

The trip to the hospital was still filled with worry, but he expertly guided you both, instructing you on what to do whenever the child felt any discomfort.

As Eunji was immediately taken into the emergency care unit upon arrival at the hospital, the doctors swiftly confirmed the diagnosis of appendicitis. They explained that you both were fortunate to have arrived early enough for her appendix to still be intact. If you had come later, it could have burst, leading to more complications.

Despite the worry, the doctors assured you that your niece would be just fine after the surgery to remove her inflamed appendix. This news was a tremendous relief, and it filled you with gratitude that she was in the right place at the right time, thanks to her teacher's swift response.

Sitting there on the bench outside the operation theatre, you finally let your guard down, tears streaming down your face.

"Thank you so much, Seonghwa. I... I really don't know what I would have done without you. I was going to call San but couldn't reach him, and I was so scared. God, if something were to happen to her, I would never forgive myself. I've already lost most of my family, I... I can't lose her too, Seonghwa. I really can't..."

He listened to your words, and his heart swelled with compassion as he understood the depth of your fears and anxieties.

A small part of him was glad that San hadn't been available, or he wouldn't have been the one to be here with you now. But he reminded himself that now wasn't the time to relish in this.

With a gentle but firm embrace, he pulled you close to him, allowing you to cry into his shoulder. His own heart ached for the pain you've endured and the burdens you carried.

He couldn't imagine how tough things must have been for you all this while. As if losing your sister and brother-in-law wasn't painful enough, you were suddenly responsible for a child you were struggling to take care of physically, emotionally and financially, having no experience whatsoever.

As he held you, he whispered softly, "You're doing an incredible job. It's not easy, but you've shown such strength and resilience. You're a wonderful guardian to Eunji, and she's so lucky to have you."

You clung to him, finding solace in his comforting presence. His support was a lifeline during your most vulnerable moment.

As your sobs subsided, Seonghwa slowly pulled away, his warm hands moving to brush some stray hair out of your face and gently wiping your tears before cupping your cheeks. His actions immediately sent your heart into a frenzy.

He gazed into your eyes with sincerity, his voice filled with reassurance, "You're not alone in this. I'll always be here for you and Eunji, no matter what. You're like family to me now, and I'll support you through all the ups and downs."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in closer. The air crackled with unspoken tension, and you felt his warm breath on your lips. It was an electric moment, but he knew it was crucial to respect your vulnerable state.

Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you on the lips.

But he settled for pressing his lips gently against your forehead for now. His kiss conveyed his unspoken feelings, the deep care and affection he held for you. It was a promise of his support, even in the face of your most challenging moments.

With his lips against your skin, your heart raced with a flurry of emotions. The warmth of the kiss sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but wonder about his true feelings.

On one hand, there were undeniable signs that he cared deeply for you. The way he's consistently been there for you and Eunji, his thoughtful gestures, and the never-ending support he offered in your times of need all pointed to a deeper connection.

But you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that maybe he was just being a caring friend.

Your own insecurities played a significant role in your hesitance. You found it difficult to believe that someone as perfect as Seonghwa would be romantically interested in you, a single parent with a messy, complicated life.

While his actions spoke volumes, you struggled to accept the possibility that this man could want to be part of your world. It left you caught in a whirlwind of emotions, battling between hope and self-doubt, trying to decipher the complexities of your relationship with him.

The relief that washed over you as the doctor confirmed the success of Eunji's surgery was almost overwhelming. You thanked the medical team profusely, your voice trembling with gratitude.

But then, your emotions got the best of you.

You wrapped your arms tightly around Seonghwa's neck and buried your face in his shoulder, this time letting out tears of relief.

His immediate response was to hold you even closer, his arms providing the safety and comfort you desperately needed. His hand gently stroked the back of your head, and he whispered soothing words, "I told you everything would be okay, didn't I?" He said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance.

With a weary nod, you continued to cry against his shoulder, seeking solace in his warm embrace.

Normally, you would have hesitated to be so bold, but the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion had pushed you beyond your usual boundaries. At this moment, all you wanted was comfort, and Seonghwa was more than willing to provide it.

You decided that, for now, you would allow yourself to lean on him.

As you sat beside Eunji's hospital bed, your eyes were fixated on her peaceful slumber. You breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking all the gods you didn't believe in for ensuring her safety. You held her tiny hand against your forehead, grateful for the successful surgery.

The peace was interrupted by the ringing of your phone. You swiftly moved away from her bedside to answer, careful not to wake her.

It was San on the other end, his voice filled with concern and guilt, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! My phone died last night, and I forgot to charge it. Why'd you call me in the middle of the night? Did something happen?"

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the ordeal, and San listened attentively, apologising profusely for not being there when you needed him. You assured him that it was alright, understanding that it was an honest mistake. He promised to visit later after arranging leave from work for both of you.

As the conversation with San came to an end, you suddenly remembered Seonghwa's commitment to his job at the kindergarten. You immediately felt a pang of guilt for relying on him so heavily when he had his own responsibilities to attend to.

You approached Seonghwa, who was peacefully napping on the couch in the corner of the hospital ward, and knelt down in front of him to observe him for a moment.

His head bobbed sleepily, and you couldn't resist smiling at how adorable he looked. It was undeniable now that you'd developed deep feelings for him, but at the same time, you felt the weight of your circumstances bearing down on you. You believed that you had nothing to offer him, and he deserved someone who could reciprocate the love and care he had so selflessly given you.

Collecting your thoughts, you gently shook him on the shoulder.

He immediately snapped awake, "Oh dear, I fell asleep, didn't I? Sorry about that," You shook your head, assuring him that he had nothing to be sorry for, "Gosh no, please don't apologise for that. I should be the one saying sorry. You should probably go home and get some rest before going to work."

In fact, you felt guilty for relying on him so much.

But he quickly sat up straight and protested, "What? No, I'm staying here with you two."

You sat beside him and smiled, "You really don't have to, Seonghwa. Sannie is applying for leave, he's coming over soon. And I... I've troubled you enough; you can't miss work because of us too. You can come to visit after work if you'd like, but please... don't skip work too, I feel bad enough already."

He relented after hearing you out; he could tell you really didn't want him to sacrifice any more for you.

Reluctantly, he agreed to go to work. He didn't want to make you feel like you owed him more than you already did. You smiled and walked him to the room door, expressing your gratitude once again.

"Thank you again, Seonghwa. You... you saved her life, and I can never thank you enough for this." You said with genuine appreciation. Your eyes reflected a mix of emotions and gratitude.

He nodded, his expression soft.

"You don't have to thank me. I want to be here for you and Eunji," He replied, emphasising his genuine concern for you both, "Don't ever hesitate to call me if you need anything, alright? I'm always ready to help, always."

Before he left, you held his hand for a moment, meeting his eyes with a depth of emotion that couldn't be ignored. It was clear that your connection was growing stronger each day, despite the obstacles and self-doubts. He squeezed your hand gently and then left the hospital room.

After Seonghwa's departure, you sat by Eunji's bedside, relieved that she was recovering.

As San walked into the hospital room, his eyes met yours, and he immediately noticed your tear-stained face. Without a word, you ran into his open arms, seeking solace in the friend who has been your rock throughout these challenging times. He held you close, silently reassuring you that he was there and that you didn't need to face everything alone.

"God, I'm so sorry," He whispered softly, his voice filled with genuine regret, "I should've been here for you, especially when you needed me the most."

You clung to him, tears flowing freely, your shoulders shaking with the weight of your emotions. San continued to hold you, providing the support you desperately needed in this moment.

The bond between you and San had grown over the years, as he had been with you through all the hardships you faced. He was like the brother you never had, and his presence brought you immense comfort, reminding you that you were never truly alone.

He chuckled as you both settled down, the tension from earlier finally releasing its grip on you. With a playful gleam in his eye, he couldn't resist some light teasing, "I'm telling you, Seonghwa is definitely a simp for you."

Your laughter was a welcome sound, even given the circumstances, and it was a reminder that life still had its moments of lightness. But as you chewed on your lip and confessed your feelings, his teasing demeanour softened, and he offered his heartfelt advice.

"Sannie... I think I might have feelings for him too, but... I'm scared." You whispered.

He sighed, his gaze understanding and empathetic.

His hand gently rubbed your arm as he spoke, "Listen to me, I know you think that being a single parent makes you unattractive, but Seonghwa has proven you wrong, hasn't he? Besides, don't tell me you're going to deprive yourself of the opportunity to fall in love just because of Eunji? You should still live your life, you know? It's what your sister would've wanted for you, to be happy."

Your eyes met his, filled with gratitude.

"I'm telling you, you deserve happiness just like anyone else," He whispered, his tone filled with sincerity, "You can't let fear hold you back. Seonghwa's actions speak for themselves, don't they? He's a wonderful person, and if you have feelings for him, you should explore that possibility. I can see the way he looks at you; it's more than just sympathy."

You bit your lip, contemplating his words. Your sister would have undoubtedly wanted you to be happy, and it was time to think about your own well-being and happiness. You nodded slowly, gratitude filling your eyes as you met San's gaze.

"You're right, Sannie," You replied with a grateful smile, "I'll... try to open up and see where things go with Seonghwa. Thank you for always being there for me."

San's endless encouragement was the very thing you needed to hear. His words were a gentle nudge toward embracing your feelings.

Eunji's voice was like a soothing melody in the room, and you rushed to her side, tears in your eyes, "Aunty... uncle Sannie?" Her little voice croaked, and you knelt beside her bed, your heart swelling with love.

"Aunty's here, Eunji-yah." You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

San, who had been sitting beside you, leaned in to join you, "Uncle Sannie is here too, sweetheart."

Eunji reached her tiny hands out, her fingers brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the tears that trickled down. Her concern and innocence touched you deeply, and you smiled through your tears, "Eunji-yah, you feeling much better?"

San's gentle hands moved the child's baby hair out of her face, and she nodded in response, "Don't cry, aunty. I'm okay now."

You chuckled through your tears, kissing her soft cheeks, "Yes, of course you are. My angel is so brave and strong."

As the medical team checked on your niece and made sure she was stable, you and San remained by her side, grateful for her recovery. Eunji was now sitting up in her hospital bed, engrossed in watching cartoons on the TV.

After a while, she wondered aloud, "Where is Teacher Hwa?" Her voice was still soft, but there was a clear longing in her words.

You smiled and leaned over, ruffling her hair and planting a loving kiss on her head, "Teacher Hwa needs to go to work, sweetie. But he'll come by afterwards, is that alright?"

She nodded cutely in understanding, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes, "I miss Teacher Hwa." She admitted.

I miss him too.

San couldn't resist spoiling her with affectionate kisses and playful teasing, and you had to agree with her unspoken sentiment. Deep down, you missed her class teacher too, more than you were willing to admit.

Two days later, Eunji was finally approved for discharge from the hospital. As you settled the hospital fees, you sighed to yourself. The money you were using to pay the bills had initially been saved up for your car to be serviced, but now, it seemed that particular expense would have to wait a bit longer.

You kept your financial struggles to yourself, not wanting to burden San or Seonghwa any further. You knew they would help you without hesitation, but you already felt like you owed them more than you could ever repay in this lifetime.

Returning to Eunji's ward, you find Seonghwa packing up her stuff while San helps her get changed out of her hospital gown.

The sight warmed your heart, and even though San's support was something you'd grown accustomed to and deeply appreciated, having Seonghwa there too gave you a newfound sense of hope. San's words from just a few days ago echoed in your mind, and you began to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, love was possible even in the midst of everything you were going through.

Meanwhile, the two men unexpectedly began to form a friendship during the time they spent together taking care of your niece over the past few days. All the while, San never failed to send you playful glances and subtle thumbs-ups whenever Seonghwa looked away to signal his approval of the kindergarten teacher.

Eunji perked up when she saw you enter the room.

"Aunty!" She called out, sprinting towards you as soon as San was done helping her get dressed. You picked her up in your arms and laughed when you saw your friend pouting jealously in the background, his arms crossed in mock annoyance.

"Yes, yes, run to your aunty and leave me behind. Leave poor uncle Sannie alone after everything he's done for you." He sighed dramatically, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Seonghwa chuckled at the scene.

San reminded him a lot of Joy, and he had a feeling they'd make a chaotic duo if they ever met each other.

Pushing the concerns about your financial status to the back of your mind, you decided to focus on the present and worry about that later. Seeing all the most important people to you together, the future seemed a bit brighter.

You had a growing support system that included a caring friend like San and, possibly, a romantic connection with Seonghwa. Though you were still hesitant to fully embrace the idea of love in your life, your niece's recovery and the presence of these two amazing men were giving you hope that maybe, just maybe, there was room for happiness after all.

As days turned into weeks, Seonghwa's actions became increasingly deliberate. It was as if he could read your mind and were aware of your insecurities, he was making a conscious effort to let you know about his non-platonic feelings.

He didn't just stop at being a good friend and support system; he wanted to be more than that in your life.

His compliments became more heartfelt and frequent, making you blush and smile whenever he praised you. His words, no longer confined to appreciating your strength or kindness, now included expressions of admiration for your beauty, your intelligence, and even your sense of humour. He made sure to remind you of how special you were to him every chance he got.

He began to do little things that set your heart racing.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear during dinner, his fingers gently brushing your skin, sent shivers down your spine. Wiping your lips when you were eating, though seemingly innocent, took on a more intimate meaning when his thumb grazed your lower lip in a slow, deliberate movement. He held your gaze longer than necessary, his eyes revealing the depth of his feelings, and a small, knowing smile often graced his lips.

Seonghwa wasn't afraid to be physical in his affection either. He started walking with a hand resting on the small of your back, his touch warm and reassuring. These gestures sent your heart into overdrive, and you wondered if maybe he felt the same way about you as you did about him.

His advances were impossible to ignore, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that his feelings for you were not limited to friendship.

Unbeknownst to you, he's been preparing to ask you a very important question on a very important day.

The day had been exceptionally hectic for you.

Your workload had grown to mountainous proportions, and while everyone, including San, had left the office, you remained behind to tackle the never-ending tasks. It was one of those days when deadlines and responsibilities refused to be tamed.

You glanced at the time and realised it was much later than you'd initially planned. A quick text to Seonghwa informed him that you would need a little more time at the office and asked him to pick you up slightly later than usual. You suggested he grab dinner with Eunji while they waited for you.

As you dove back into your work, minutes turned into hours. The relentless ticking of the clock was accompanied by the echo of your typing, and the office became a quiet refuge, save for the dim hum of the fluorescent lights.

Seonghwa's text alert came, signalling his arrival, but you were engrossed in a report, and it took you a moment to notice the message. You quickly wrapped up the document and started packing your things, your mind racing to meet the deadline.

When you finally arrived at the entrance, you were greeted by a sight that left you utterly speechless.

There, waiting for you with bright smiles and expectant eyes, was Seonghwa, San, and Eunji. In Seonghwa's hands was a cake with a single lit candle, Eunji clutched a bouquet of colourful flowers, and San held a bunch of balloons.

As they began singing "Happy Birthday" in unison, the tears welled up in your eyes. You've been so consumed by your work that you'd genuinely forgotten about your own birthday. Their thoughtful gesture touched your heart deeply, making you feel cherished and loved in a way you hadn't in a long time.

You stood there, absorbing the warmth of their surprise, appreciating the genuine smiles on their faces, and feeling incredibly lucky to have them in your life.

After they finished singing, you shyly approached Seonghwa to blow out the single candle on the cake, "Oh, thank you so much, you three!" You exclaimed, chuckling through your tears of joy.

You moved to take the colourful bouquet of flowers from Eunji, who seemed puzzled by your tears. She asked with her innocent eyes, "Aunty, don't cry! Are you sad?"

You shook your head, still smiling through your watery eyes as you kissed her little cheeks, "Of course not, silly! I'm crying because I'm happy!" She seemed slightly perplexed but content, leaning in to press a wet, loving kiss to your cheek, "I love you, Aunty." She said, her voice filled with genuine affection.

With Eunji's tender declaration of love warming your heart, San, who had been clearing his throat loudly, playfully complained, "Excuse me, what do I get, huh? Am I invisible?" You rolled your eyes and laughed, moving to hug him as well, "Thank you, Sannie. You're the best, I swear," He grinned, rubbing your back affectionately, "I know." He responded in a cheeky tone.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa seized the moment to get into position. After carefully setting down the cake, he moved to stand behind you, taking his place as he decided it was the perfect time to make his feelings known, "How about me? Do I get a hug too?"

As you turned around, your breath hitched at how close Seonghwa was. Your heart raced, and you noticed the twinkle in his eyes. San discreetly led Eunji to a corner to witness the scene unfold, grinning to himself as he did so.

"Happy birthday." Seonghwa whispered.

Your heart raced, and you thanked him with a smile, the anticipation in the air growing as he gently reached for your hand. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt that something significant was about to happen.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze unwavering, and said, "There's something important I need to confess tonight." You gulped, your mind racing with possibilities, and nodded slowly. You wondered if this could be the moment you'd secretly dreamed of.

"You know, there used to be a time when I wanted nothing to do with love or romance. I'd sworn off dating for the longest time, wanting to focus only on my job and the kids at work."

Your eyes widened, this was news to you.

He began by sharing a humorous memory from the past, recounting how he'd initially mistaken you for Eunji's mother and the internal turmoil he experienced at the time. He held back his feelings, thinking it was wrong to have a crush on his student's mother. You both laughed about it, and your heart skipped a beat as you began to sense where this conversation was leading.

"I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw you," He shook his head in amusement, "Little did I know you were Eunji's aunt."

You laughed along, "Well, at least now it makes more sense."

As he continued, you listened with bated breath, "But over time, my initial crush evolved into something much deeper, something I couldn't ignore. Watching you, taking care of Eunji, and being so strong throughout it all... It touched my heart." His words stirred your emotions, and you realised that he had feelings for you even then.

He squeezed your hand, his touch reassuring, "I want you to know that you've inspired me, made me want to love again, to have a family of my own, with Eunji as our child."

His confession hung in the air, the weight of his words settling around you both. You took a moment to absorb it all, his vulnerability and sincerity washing over you.

"Seonghwa," You began, your voice soft, "I... I had no idea."

He smiled gently, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, "I didn't want to burden you with my feelings, especially considering everything you've been through."

A rush of emotions swirled within you.

You squeezed his hand, the unspoken understanding between you palpable, "You've been such an amazing friend to us, Seonghwa. You've helped us more than I can put into words."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, "And I want to continue being there for both of you, in whatever capacity you'll have me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of gratitude, of hope, "Seonghwa, I..." You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, "I never imagined this, but... I've come to care for you deeply. You've been a rock for us, and I can't imagine facing all of this without you."

He smiled, his gaze tender, "I feel the same way, perhaps even more."

The sincerity in his eyes overwhelmed you.

This was a turning point, a moment that could change everything. You took a step closer to him, closing the distance between you, "Seonghwa," You whispered, "I would be honoured to have you in our lives, as more than just a friend."

His smile widened, a mixture of relief and joy dancing in his eyes, "You've just made me the happiest man alive."

As you leaned in, he met you halfway, and your lips finally met in a soft, sweet kiss. It felt like a promise, a new beginning. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in this moment of shared vulnerability and newfound love.

But your romantic moment did not last long with San and Eunji skipping out of their hiding spots, singing, "Teacher Hwa and aunty, sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Their voices immediately made you and Seonghwa pull away, cheeks flushed crimson.

San smirked, "Well, looks like we have another thing to celebrate now, so who wants cake?" Eunji jumped excitedly at the mention of cake, "Me! Me! Me!" Seonghwa chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours before walking up to the two, "Alright then, let's go." You bit your lip, struggling to take your eyes off your intertwined hands, heart swelling in happiness.

The celebration continued with shared laughter. San couldn't resist a final tease, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but it seems like my predictions were spot on. Congratulations, you two."

The future was uncertain, but you were certain that, with Seonghwa's support and love, you could face anything that came your way.

Seonghwa's following day at work was filled with playful jabs and teasing from Joy, who had learned about your newfound relationship from Eunji, your adorable messenger.

While he might have outwardly displayed annoyance, there was a part of him that secretly relished the teasing. It made everything feel more real and solidified, reminding him that he was no longer just your helpful friend and confidant but your boyfriend.

"Hey, remember when you used to say you'd never waste your time on dating?" Seonghwa rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day as he packed up after work, Eunji waiting obediently at the playpen for him to go pick you up from work together, "Yes, Joy, I remember. But that was before I—"

She smirked, "Before you met the love of your life?"

He blushed, once again reminded that it might still be too soon to say the L word to you no matter how much he wanted to, he didn't want to pressure you into saying it back to him if you didn't feel the same yet. He would have to find the perfect moment to tell you.

"Yes, Joy, exactly." He chuckled, shaking his head at the playful banter. Joy has always been a close friend, and he appreciated her teasing as a sign that she was genuinely happy for him. He continued to pack his things, a smile playing on his lips.

"I remember all those times I said I'd never date," He admitted, "But I guess life had different plans for me. Meeting her and Eunji... it's like everything I thought I wanted was nothing compared to what I have now. I've never been this content."

She watched him closely, her teasing demeanour giving way to genuine curiosity, "So, what's it like, then? To have someone who's so important to you?"

He sighed, momentarily lost in thought, "It's like having this unwavering support, someone who cares about my day, my dreams, my struggles... It's having someone to share the joys and sorrows with. And with Eunji, it's like having a family, the one I never knew I needed. It's pretty amazing, Joy."

She smiled at him warmly, "I'm so glad you've found it, Hwa. It's beautiful to see how much you've grown and how much love you've discovered."

Seonghwa nodded, grateful for the newfound happiness that entered his life. It was a reminder that sometimes, the unexpected and unconventional paths led to the most fulfilling destinations.

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue over the scene as you and San exited the office building. There, leaning against his car with an air of casual confidence, stood Seonghwa, a captivating smile on his face. Your heart raced at the sight of him, and you felt incredibly lucky to have him in your life.

Beside him was your niece bouncing around while she waited for you. Eunji's boundless enthusiasm and infectious energy were on full display as she rushed toward you and your colleague, wrapping her little arms around your legs, "Aunty! Uncle Sannie!"

You ruffled her hair lovingly, a radiant smile on your face, "Did you have a good day, Eunji-yah?" You asked, your affection for her shining brightly, "Yes!"

Her ever-doting uncle Sannie picked her up, lifting her high, and she giggled with delight. In the midst of this heartwarming scene, he subtly pushed you toward Seonghwa, who was waiting for you with an expectant look in his eyes.

As you approached him, your gaze was fixated on him, and you couldn't help feeling like a teenager in love.

Your heart fluttered with each step, and without realising it, you missed a step, stumbling slightly on the uneven pavement, your heels causing an issue. But in an instant, your boyfriend's reflexes kicked in, and he rushed forward, his strong arms reaching out to catch you. His hands found your waist and steadied you.

For a heartbeat, your noses bumped gently against each other, and your breaths mingled. The closeness was intoxicating, and your heart raced even faster in response to this unexpected proximity.

"Hi." The two of you whispered at the same time.

Seonghwa's arms encircled you, holding you close in the aftermath of your stumble. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that tender moment. You looked up into his eyes, your heart pounding in your chest, and in that shared gaze, you found an unspoken connection.

In the background, San playfully covered Eunji's eyes, his voice carrying a comically dramatic tone, "Fear not, young Eunji! I shall shield your innocent eyes from this heartwarming scene of romance!"

Laughter bubbled up from both of you, breaking the spell but only for a moment. Seonghwa's eyes twinkled with affection, and without another word, he leaned in, closing the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours in a sweet, gentle kiss, a promise of the love and care that lay ahead for both of you.

It was a kiss filled with tenderness and the unspoken promise of a future together. The world seemed to stand still, allowing you to savour the moment, etching it into your memory.

When you eventually pulled away, a soft smile graced your boyfriend's lips, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. There was a warmth in his eyes, a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As you both turned to look at Eunji and San, you found them engaged in a playful debate about whether or not it was time for ice cream. It was a perfect tableau of the life you were now building together—a little messy, a lot of love, and filled with joy.

In that moment, you knew you were exactly where you belonged, in the arms of the man who has become your rock, and surrounded by the love of your little family.

In the few months that you'd been with Seonghwa, you marvelled at what a sweet and thoughtful boyfriend he was. He embraced his role as a partner and father figure with open arms, and it showed in the way he cared for you and Eunji.

Seonghwa was a master of small gestures.

Whether it was a good morning text, a surprise lunch he'd prepared and dropped off at your office, or a cosy movie night he'd set up for you and Eunji, he knew how to make you feel loved. His actions spoke louder than words, a testament to his caring and attentive nature.

You couldn't remember when it began, but you and your niece have been staying over at his place frequently lately. So frequent to the point that your own studio apartment felt like a hotel that you'd only return to once in a while.

On the days when you both stayed over, his morning routine included preparing breakfast for you and Eunji, a tradition that quickly became a heartwarming ritual.

You'd wake up to the smell of pancakes or fresh fruit salad, and your niece couldn't contain her excitement when it was a pancake morning. His culinary skills were a surprise to you, but he enjoyed whipping up dishes that made you both smile.

Seonghwa has become the perfect family man.

He'd do the grocery shopping, subtly watch over Eunji in kindergarten without neglecting the other kids, and even help her with her homework. His patience knew no bounds as he explained math problems for what seemed like the hundredth time.

On weekends, you'd all go for picnics, trips to the zoo, or simply have a quiet day at home. You could feel his love in the way he held your hand, kissed your forehead, and smiled at Eunji's jokes. His affection was a warm embrace that wrapped around both of you, making your little family feel complete.

It was his sharp and observant eyes that amazed you the most. He noticed when you were tired or had a rough day, and he'd be there with a comforting hug or a listening ear. He was the first to recognise when Eunji needed a little extra attention or when she was hiding a scraped knee under her dress.

You loved how attentive and observant your boyfriend was, but there was a part of your life that you desperately wished he would be less perceptive about. It was the financial struggles you'd been trying to hide from him for some time.

As the months passed, you managed to pay off the bills for your car maintenance and finally got it serviced, but it came at a price. Sacrificing your budget for that left you unable to afford your rent and credit card debt. Most of the credit card expenses have been related to Eunji and her needs – kids' things were indeed expensive, and you'd always put her first.

One day, while you were at Seonghwa's place with Eunji, you received a text from your landlady, and dread settled in your stomach. She demanded that you return home to speak with her, which was unusual. You quickly thought up an excuse to tell Seonghwa, explaining that you had to run somewhere quickly.

He looked concerned, sensing that something was amiss, and his worry for you was evident in his eyes.

After you left, he couldn't resist the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. He decided to check your backpack, where you kept your clothes and necessities for staying the night. That's when he discovered your unpaid bills, debt statements, and financial struggles laid bare before him.

He cursed himself for not realising the extent of your financial difficulties sooner. The truth hit him like a punch to the gut. You were still struggling, and he couldn't stand by and let you bear that burden alone.

Your heart dropped like a stone the moment you arrived home. There, you found all your belongings packed up in boxes, scattered messily outside of your unit, "W-what's the meaning of this, Mrs. Lee?"

The landlady stood in the centre of the chaos, her hands propped on her hips, a furious look on her face. She didn't waste any time expressing her anger, "Are you really asking me that?" She scoffed, "You didn't pay rent for two months. Did you think I was going to let you leech off me like that?"

You were in a state of panic, rushing up to her, your eyes darting around to take in the disarray. You began to explain your situation, your voice trembling, "But you said you understood when I told you I've been saving up to pay you all at once by the end of this month. You know my niece and I—"

She sighed, lifting a hand to stop you.

"Enough with the pity party. You always use the kid as an excuse. I've had it. I've already found a new tenant who will pay more than you. They're moving in tomorrow. So, take your things and leave."

You dropped to your knees in desperation, pleading with her not to do this, your voice quivering.

It was at this moment that Seonghwa arrived with Eunji in his arms. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene, and his expression quickly shifted from surprise to anger as he overheard the last cruel sentence uttered by the landlady.

With his nostrils flaring in anger, he marched up to you and gently helped you up from the ground, all while maintaining his composure for the child's sake. Then, he handed Eunji over to you.

Your niece quickly reached up to wipe away your tears with her tiny hands. She asked you not to cry, and you sniffled in response, trying to assure her that everything would be okay.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa turned to confront the landlady.

His voice was firm but never raised, "Mrs. Lee," He began, "I understand that there have been issues with rent, but it's crucial to remember the legal obligations here. Regardless of the situation, you must provide proper notice and follow due process for eviction."

She seemed taken aback by his confidence and knowledge, "Well, I didn't know that, but I've already found someone else willing to pay more for the unit. I can't just let her stay here."

Seonghwa remained unwavering, "I'm not suggesting that you should let the situation continue as it is, but there's a proper way to go about this. You can't just throw them out onto the street. They need time to find a new place."

He continued, "If you follow the right procedures, both parties can come to a mutually agreeable solution without any legal issues. Trust me; I know a thing or two about these matters."

The landlady hesitated, realising that your boyfriend was not to be underestimated, "Well," She muttered, "I didn't know about all that. I'll give you a week to sort things out, but that's it. The new tenant is moving in after that."

He nodded, his demeanour still steady, "Thank you, Mrs. Lee. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement within the given time frame."

You glanced at Seonghwa with gratitude in your eyes, knowing that he just bought you some valuable time to find a new place to live without the immediate pressure of eviction.

As he helped you carry your belongings back into the unit, you couldn't bear to look him in the eye. You felt ashamed and overwhelmed by your financial struggles. He knew something was wrong when you turned your gaze away from him, he sighed and gathered you into his arms.

It was the comforting, secure embrace you needed, and it didn't take long for your tears to start flowing against his shoulder. He gently pressed your head into the crook of his neck, his warm breath caressing your ear.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling so much financially?" He whispered softly, his heart aching as he held you.

You sobbed and pulled away slightly, your tear-streaked face revealing your vulnerability, "I'm sorry, Hwa," You choked out, "I didn't mean to hide things from you, but I really didn't want to burden you any more than I already have."

Seonghwa shook his head and cupped your tear-stained cheeks, looking into your eyes with genuine concern, "Listen to me," He said, his voice firm yet tender, "You are not a burden. I'm willing to do anything, including providing for you and Eunji. I want you to come to me for help anytime you need it, you hear me?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you bit your trembling lip, tears trickling out the sides of your eyes as you nodded slowly.

After you've calmed down, the two of you settled on your bed. Eunji was taking a little nap, giving you both a moment of privacy. You sat there, staring at the boxes of your belongings and feeling overwhelmed by the uncertainty of your future.

"What am I going to do?" You whispered, the weight of your situation pressing down on you.

Your boyfriend reached for your hand and gently squeezed it, "Move in with me... for good." He said with a calm tone.

You snapped your head up to meet his gaze, searching for any signs of reluctance. But all you found in his eyes was sincerity and an earnest desire to share his life with you and your niece. He leaned in, his thumb brushing your knuckles before he brought your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it.

"Please," He implored, "Let me be there for you. It's why I'm here. You and Eunji, you're my everything now, and I can't possibly sit around while you're struggling. Let me take care of you."

A lump formed in your throat as you shifted closer to him, your hand moving to cup his cheek. You croaked out, "I love you, Hwa," His heart melted at your words, and he chuckled tearfully, his eyes filled with affection. He had longed to hear those three words from you, "So, is that a yes?"

You nodded, and you sealed your decision with a gentle kiss. As you pulled away slightly, he couldn't help expressing his love for you, "I love you too, so much that it drives me crazy."

A week later, you and Seonghwa stood side by side in his apartment, gazing around the transformed living space with pride. The place had undergone a subtle but significant makeover, and now it felt more like a warm and welcoming family home.

The interior had brightened considerably, with cheerful colours and playful decorations that were clearly chosen with Eunji in mind. A colourful toy box stood in one corner, overflowing with stuffed animals and games. The walls were adorned with the child's artwork, showcasing her creativity and vibrant imagination.

Your boyfriend has been more than accommodating, allowing both you and Eunji to have a say in how the place was decorated. It was a collaborative effort that turned the apartment into a reflection of your shared love.

He made it clear that he would have been content even if the place had been transformed into a Barbie-themed wonderland.

All that truly mattered was being with you and Eunji.

"Tadaaa~"

Eunji's squeals filled the room as you removed your hands from covering her eyes. She darted around the apartment, pointing out everything that caught her attention. Her infectious excitement made your hearts swell with happiness as she skipped from one corner to another, exploring her new home.

Seonghwa stood beside you, a contented smile gracing his face as he watched your niece's enthusiasm.

Her presence and the shared sense of belonging in this new place filled him with a profound sense of fulfilment. This was not just an apartment; it was a home, a place where your love and family could grow and flourish.

The next day in kindergarten, Eunji's excitement was infectious as she rushed around, handing out invitations to her friends and her beloved second-favourite teacher, Joy. The little ones received their invites with wide eyes and giggles, their youthful enthusiasm matching your niece's.

"Ooh, what's this?" Joy's curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't resist opening the invitation right there.

Her initial surprise at receiving an invitation turned into a warm smile when she realised it was for your housewarming party. She found it amusing that you were celebrating in such a manner, considering it wasn't a new house but rather a symbol of the new life you, Seonghwa, and Eunji were embarking on together.

She couldn't contain her excitement as she approached Seonghwa with the invitation in hand. Her teasing tone laced with affection, "Why is it that I always have to learn these things from Eunji and not you?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and chuckled, a hint of playfulness in his response, "This is exactly why. You never let me live."

She burst out laughing before getting a little more serious, "Alright, fine. I'll let you off just this once. Can I bring my boyfriend, though?" She asked, her expression eager.

Seonghwa's eyes softened, and he nodded warmly, "Of course, Joy. I'd love to finally meet the poor soul that has to endure you for the rest of his life."

She mockingly smacked his arm, feigning offence, "Yah, Park Seonghwa! I take it back, you'll suffer today."

Meanwhile, your workplace held its own share of celebrations as you handed an invitation to San, your dear friend and colleague. A broad grin stretched across his face as he read the invitation, and he threw an arm over your shoulder, playfully teasing, "Aww, I'm so proud of you, bestie. Look at you, all grown up already."

You wriggled out of his embrace before he had a chance to mess up your hair, retorting, "San, I'm literally older than you."

With a shrug, he quipped, "Does it matter? You'll always be my little baby," He playfully pouted, attempting to look pitiable. But before you could respond, your manager interrupted the exchange with a loud clearing of her throat and a disapproving glare directed at him, "Choi San, this is your last warning," He immediately straightened up and saluted, "Yes, ma'am."

As soon as your manager moved away, he couldn't resist a cheeky comment, "I'm telling you, she has the hots for me," You rolled your eyes and playfully smacked him, "You're ridiculous. If we get fired someday, I'm blaming you."

The weekend had arrived, and your housewarming party was just hours away.

Your heart swelled with happiness as you watched Seonghwa twirl Eunji around the living room. Your niece, dressed in her new Elsa costume, giggled with delight, her laughter filling the room.

While the two of them enjoyed their cute little dance, you were in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the food spread. The aroma of homemade dishes wafted through the air, making the atmosphere feel even more inviting.

The excitement was palpable as you glanced around the room, taking in the decorations, the array of snacks, and the cosy ambience you worked hard to create. Everything was ready, and you couldn't wait for your friends to arrive, celebrating not just a new house, but a new chapter in your life with Seonghwa and Eunji.

One by one, the guests arrived.

The first to arrive were Joy and her boyfriend, Hyoseob. You greeted them with a warm smile, "Oh Joy, I'm so happy you could make it!" She beamed in response, giving you a hug, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Seonghwa, always quick with a teasing remark, couldn't resist the chance to rib Joy about her relationship, "Ah, you must be the famous Shin Hyoseob. Just so you know, Joy never shuts up about you, like ever." This was his chance to get her back for all the times she's relentlessly tormented him about your relationship at work.

Not long after, San arrived, and he immediately scooped up Eunji in his arms, causing her to giggle with delight.

He joined the group, and you introduced him to your boyfriend's colleague. As predicted by Seonghwa, San and Joy hit it off right away, chatting and laughing as if they'd been friends for years.

Soon, Eunji's friends began to arrive one by one, and the house filled with laughter and the joyful chaos of children running about. You would have panicked had it not been for Seonghwa and Joy's expertise in having so many kids under control, the two of them kept a constant watchful eye to ensure they didn't cause any trouble.

The party was now in full swing, and it was a heartwarming sight to see everyone come together to celebrate this special day with you and your little family.

As you sat with the adults at the dining table, your attention kept drifting to your niece, who was happily playing with her friends in the living room.

A bittersweet ache tugged at your heart as you thought about your sister and how she would feel about the life you've created for her daughter. You wondered if she was looking down on you, proud of the strength you'd shown and the love you'd poured into raising Eunji after her passing.

Just a year ago, if someone told you that your life would be this full of love and happiness, you might have thought them delusional.

But now, surrounded by all the people you loved, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Your life was filled with friends who had become like family, a beautiful niece who brought joy into your world, and a man who had become your partner in this journey.

Seonghwa noticed your silence and the distant look in your eyes. He slid his hand into yours, capturing your attention as you turned to look at him, "You okay?" He asked, concern evident in his eyes. To you, he felt like a guardian angel, sent by your sister to protect you and bring happiness into your life.

You nodded and offered a small smile, "I'm fine."

He wasn't entirely convinced, but he smiled back at you and leaned in to place a gentle peck on your temple. His affectionate gesture didn't go unnoticed by your friends, who couldn't resist teasing you both, causing your cheeks to flush with a lovely shade of embarrassment.

As the party came to an end and the last of the guests had left, you began the routine of settling your niece for the night. After a warm, relaxing shower, you tucked her into bed.

Eunji grinned up at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "Aunty, that was the bestest party ever!" She exclaimed. You chuckled, leaning in closer to her, "Really? Are you happy?" She nodded enthusiastically, her little face glowing with happiness, "Yes, I love it very, very much!" You gently stroked her cheek and gazed at her lovingly, "And I love you very, very much."

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had been quietly watching the interaction between you two from the room's entrance. His heart never failed to flutter every time he witnessed the bond between you and your niece.

Eunji let out a huge yawn, and you patted her stomach, indicating it was time for bed, "All right, off to bed with you."

The child giggled and nodded, snuggling under her blanket, "Goodnight, aunty. I love you very, very much too."

Hearing those words from her, even though she has said them many times before, touched your heart in a different way. You leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you more." Your words held the promise of endless love and protection, and Eunji drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

Later that night, as you finished up your skincare routine in your shared room, Seonghwa approached you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His concern was evident in his voice as he spoke, "Are you alright, love?"

You smiled, appreciating how well he knew you. Pulling off your face mask and tossing it aside, you turned to face him.

"Nothing ever goes past you, huh?"

Your boyfriend shook his head, his eyes filled with understanding and affection, "Nope, not when it comes to you, you know that," You wrapped your arms around his neck, deciding to open up about what has been on your mind, "I thought about my sister a lot today."

He tightened his embrace, knowing that this was a sensitive and emotional topic for you, "I was thinking about how she'd feel if she could see where her daughter is today and if she'd be proud of me."

Moving one hand to cup your face, he spoke, "I don't need to be your sister to know that she would be so proud of you. There's no one else who could love and care for her daughter more than you." You felt your heart swell with love for the amazing man who stood before you.

As you chuckled and nuzzled into his touch, you playfully admitted, "I was also convinced that you're my guardian angel sent by her."

Seonghwa grinned, maintaining the playful tone, "Aw man, that was our secret. How did you find out?"

Your laughter filled the room, and he watched you with adoration. Once you've calmed down, you whispered, "I love you so much, Hwa. I can't believe you're really mine," He leaned in closer, his eyes filled with warmth and affection, "Well, you better believe it because I love you even more."

With those sweet words, he pressed his lips firmly onto yours, sealing your love and commitment to each other. In that tender moment, you both knew that you'd found something truly special in each other, something that would last a lifetime.

Am I the only one who thinks Seonghwa is literally husband material? I doubt it but good GOD, does this man make me yearn for marriage and motherhood. Y'all know I'm lying to myself when I say I'm not a whole ass simp for him.

Hope y'all enjoyed and as always, would love to hear all your thoughts on the story, so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #single parent au #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot

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sanccharine · 11 months ago

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

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hannarchive · 9 months ago

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✨ HANNArchive BTS Fic Recs ✨

A little collection of my favorite fics I’ve read over the past year. Please go support the writers. ❣

✰ Clingy by @bonny-kookoo (Series, ongoing) WolfHybrid!JK x OtterHybrid!Reader. Smut, angst, fluff? Strangers to ??

✰ A Sea of Indigo by foxymoxy(Ao3) / @foxymoxynoona (Series, 48 chapters, 240k words) PitbullHybrid!JK x HumanNurse!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

⋆ also check out this drabble(tumblr) (3k) and the sequel A Beautiful Beyond (AO3 / tumblr) (14.3k)

✰ Pi Gasu by @jungk0oksthighs (Series, ongoing) Vampire!JK x Donor!Reader. Angst, smut, romance. ⋆ Obsessed with this!! I’m down bad for this jungkook fr. Haven’t been this into a vampire fic in forever. (Not sure it’ll get finished tho, as the author don’t seem to be active anymore. I still enjoyed it tho)

✰ Long Way Home by @sparklingchim (Series, 49.5k (+ drabbles) ) Single Dad!JK x Best Friend!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Alpha Jeon by @pbandjk (Series, 87k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Luna!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Warlock!Tae x Witch!Reader. Enemies to lovers. Angst, smut, fluff.

✰ Evocation by @bonny-kookoo (Series) Dragon!JK x Dragon!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Fragile by @augustbutwinter (drabble, 681 words) Jimin x Reader, established relationship. Hurt/comfort.

✰ Of Bears and Bonds by @yoonia (One shot, 19k words) Bear!Jin x Witch!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Someone to Love by @lubdubsworld (One shot, 6k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Omega!OC. Angst, fluff, mild smut.

✰ Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Mafia AU, JK x Reader. Angst, smut, fluff.

#fic recs #HA fic recs #bts fic recs #bts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic rec list #hybrid bts #vampire bts #bts x reader #single parent #single dad!kook #best friend!reader #f2l

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la-petite-lapin · 6 months ago

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Unlikely Friendships | Masterpost

Navigation

Simon "Ghost" Riley x single mum!reader (sweetheart) 18+, Minors DNI

parts marked * = contains smut

Last updated: 19/6/24

Part One - Simon meets Sweetheart and Sunnie Part Two - Sweetheart comes back to base

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #callofduty #cod x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #oc #female reader #Unlikely Friendships #single parent! reader #simon riley x single mum! reader

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thirstworldproblemss · 1 year ago

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Awww… this is such a cute little fic, and it handles both parental and potentially romantic feels so adeptly! that encompasses both parental and romantic feels. Joel and the reader only share one short scene, yet we learn about their past together as well as their present, and it sows the seeds for something more in their future!

too fast

Summary: Sarah getting her first period, leaves Joel Miller standing confused in the women's hygiene aisle where you, his high school sweetheart, find him and offer your help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: G

Warmings: pre outbreak, talks about periods, little angst, some fluff

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications for new updates

It was moments like these that Joel Miller cursed being a male single parent.

His little girl, who still sneaked into his bed at night when she had a nightmare, had gotten her period. Eleven year old girls shouldn’t have to deal with periods.

She was very grown up about it.

Probably more than he was.

He wasn’t ready for his little girl to grow up. He probably never would be.

It was Saturday, they didn’t have any plans for the weekend so Sarah was outside reading a book with a mocktail (it was orange and lemon juice with a tiny paper umbrella in a cocktail glass) while he fixed the creaking front porch with his brother.

Sarah had approached them outside, waiting for both of the Miller brothers to look up, Joel immediately frowning at the look on her face as she said.

“Daddy can you buy me some pads? I think I just got my period.”

Even if he knew that this day would be coming in the near future, he wasn’t prepared, nor did he know how to react for a good ten seconds.

He was very happy that he had raised his girl to be open with him, making her feel safe enough to talk about anything. But in this moment he had been a little overwhelmed, thankful when his little brother stepped up and hugged Sarah, whispering some gentle words.

Joel went through all stages of grief in the span of fifteen seconds before he brushed his dirty hands on his jeans and knelt down in front of his little girl who jumped into his arms as soon as he opened them.

He could only imagine how scary it was to suddenly start bleeding. Joel was thankful that he had the talk with her the year before. Even if it seemed too early back then, it was his brother who had made him aware of how soon kids seemed to be growing up nowadays.

Now he was in Target, in the middle of the female hygiene aisle, looking at tampons and pads and things he hadn’t dealt or heard about since Sarah’s mother left them ten years ago.

Back then he knew what kind and size of Tampons he had to buy. But what do you buy for a little girl?

Pads, she said. So he left the tampons behind and approached the very colourful packages of various sizes of pads. There were smiling women on some of the packages and he tried to think of a single woman who enjoyed having her period.

Sarah’s mother had the worst of cramps and sometimes did not leave the bed. And she was craving vanilla pudding from that one brand he couldn’t remember the name of.

He had one package in a size one for heavy flow days and another package of size two for regular. There were also super long pads that looked like they were only a step away from being a diaper.

Truth to be told, he was a little overwhelmed and had no idea what he should buy when someone cleared their throat from his left side. He turned his head to find you looking at him.

“Need any help there, Miller?”

You just wanted to grab a package of tampons on your way home. That, of course, turned into buying ice cream, some sushi and some sweets. You were already on your way to pay when you remembered why you had come here in the first place, rolling your eyes to yourself. Making your way to the women’s hygiene aisle you groaned internally, finding the brand you always bought not there, taking a couple minutes to decide to buy just the smaller size of the same brand and come back the next day.

You turned around to leave when you noticed Joel Miller staring at two packages of pads so intently like they were his taxes. He was so focused on them that he almost jumped when you asked if he needed any help, his eyes widening in surprise, before they softened.

You and Joel went to high school together.

He was the captain of the football team and you were…. The typical nerd with your nose always stuck in a book. Sure, you had a crush on him, but you never thought he noticed you. You were proven wrong on prom night of all nights when he asked you to be his date. What could have started as a fairytale love story had a fast approaching end date, as you were leaving for college on the other side of the united states (with a full scholarship thanks to your superb grades) later that same summer and Joel was set to go to another college near his hometown, so he could keep working at his fathers contracting company.

You had spent the whole summer together before you said goodbye.

You moved away, studied, got the dream job you always wanted. You got married, had a baby girl who was now seven years old, got divorced and then moved back to your hometown earlier the year before.

You hadn’t kept in contact with Joel, but you knew he did not finish college, got married and had a baby girl as well the year after you left.

You had started running into each other when you moved back, before he invited you and your daughter over for a BBQ months ago. Now you were meeting at least once a month when you both found the time.

He was looking at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed.

“Sarah got her period and I have no idea what to buy. Like… There are so many sizes and variants and materials. How in the hell do you know what size to buy?”

A small smile sneaked to your face.

“Honestly? By trying out. There’s no real instruction as to what kind of pad to use. There used to be a sample package but I haven’t seen those in forever.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“As if women don’t have enough to deal with,” he grunted.

“Hear, hear,” you chuckled.

It was probably not appropriate to admire how his arms looked in the shirt he was wearing, but you did it anyway. Joel Miller had aged like fine wine, and the more time you spent with him, the more you felt like the sixteen year old all these years back who sneaked off in the middle of the night to make out with him.

“Do you think these would be right for Sarah?” he asked, holding the two packages up.

You read over them, nodding thoughtfully.

“I would take these and maybe some from size on in regular. She is pretty small, but better safe than sorry.”

You reached for the third package and he sighed.

“I cannot believe she’s growing up so fast,” he whispered to himself. You carefully put your hand on his arm and he looked at you.

“She’s still your little girl. And she will always be. You’re doing a great job with her.”

He gave you a small smile, before he sighed.

“I should probably get her something else. Is it weird to get her a gift?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t think so. Maybe get her some candy. Or cook her favourite meal. That’s what I do,” you held your basket up.

“Maybe I should invite you too if I end up cooking tonight,” he said and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Joel…”

“I mean if you want to. You could bring your girl and we could have a movie night….” he added.

“She’s with her dad this weekend. And you should spend tonight with your daughter. It’s a big day for her,” you said.

His face fell a little at your rejection. It wasn’t like you did not want to spend time with him, but it did not feel right like that.

“Yeah. Yeah I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. He pulled all three packages under his arm.

“But if you want to ask me out to dinner some other time, I’m 100% sure I will say yes,” you smiled shyly.

He tilted his head, a smile sneaking to his lips.

“That so?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Maybe even without our kids,” you hummed, taking a step closer.

“I think we can arrange that,” he hummed back.

A cart crashing into something behind you made you both jump before you laughed.

“I should get back,” he said.

“Me too. The ice cream is already melting,” you joked.

“Change it out for a new one,” he winked.

“So smart,” you shook your head with a smile.

“I’ll call you,” he promised.

“Okay,” you smiled before you slowly turned and walked away from him.

#pp stuff #joel miller #sarah miller #joel miller x reader #f reader #single parent reader #fanfic #toomanystoriessolittletime #sfw #family feels #girl dad joel #periods #meet cute #…kind of? XD #q

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fbfh · 6 months ago

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just woke up from a baby dream and I'm a sobbing wreck :) anyway Logan Huntzberger doesn't expect much from his future besides monetary success, partying, and a lot lot lot of sex. he definitley doesn't expect to look up one day and realize he's sharing a home, a life with someone. not only that, but he's the one that instigated it. he told you in college he didn't like you being around other guys. he stopped caring about the girls that he would go between, because now he just seems to care about you. everything else falls to the sidelines. so he comes back to his big fancy house after an important business meeting on the golf course, and he sees you there. some old sitcom is marathoning on tv, and you're wrapped up in fluffy blankets, hair up and out of your face. you look so cozy, so comfortable. you keep adjusting the blankets, fussing with them as you hum softly. he walks closer, overcome with a feeling of love and swelling pride and... paternal instinct he's never felt. your son Henry, just a month or two old is bundled on your arms. you look up at Logan and smile so warmly he could cry just from the look on your face when you see him.

"hi," you breathe softly. Henry's settled down, so you don't want to rile him up too much, but he's not all the way asleep.

"hey ace," he breaths, sitting next to you. he wraps you in his arms and kisses you, meeting forgotten as you both admire you baby boy together. you rub his tummy gently, soothingly, and Logan smooths his hair. it's short and fuzzy, and a little prickly. it makes him laugh softly. Henry is wearing the white and blue onesie Honor got for him at the baby shower. he makes a mental note to take some pictures to send her of him wearing it. the soft fabric of his polo shirt and the smell of his cologne mixed with the distinct remnants of golf course air is so comforting. he watches you admire your son, trace the shape of his cute little nose, copy the faces he makes, babble little noises at him. he watches you smooth his hair and help him get comfortable in your arms, watches you place your finger in his hand so he can hold onto it with that surprisingly strong baby death grip. Henry wiggles around, getting comfortable in your arms, and you kiss his forehead again. once you're sure that he's settled, not too warm and not too cold, comfortable and lying safely, you can finally relax. you rest your head on Logan's shoulder, closing your eyes and finally letting yourself relax and rest a little. you take in a big deep breath of his masculine scent, somehow both spicy and refreshing, and sigh. you're content. you're more than content, he realizes. you're happy. Logan... made you happy. he found out what you wanted and built you a life you want, a life he wants. it hits him like a ton of bricks in one overwhelming, amazing moment, and he soaks in the feeling, watching the way your sleeping babys face and yours mirror each other.

#drabbles #logan huntzberger #logan huntzberger x reader #logan huntzberger drabbles #dilf!logan #dilf logan #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls drabbles #domestic bliss #tooth rotting fluff #god help me #henry was his actual name in the dream #i kept waking up in the dream every time he moved or started to fuss #the plot of the rest of the dream was gone once I realized I had a baby #like it was still happening but I didn't care #it hit me so hard #i was like this is real. i actually did it. i have a baby.#his nose and his eyes and his little hands were so real. i could feel him grabbing my hand #i could FEEL the soft felty texture of his onesie #now i'm crying again! hooray!#well either I'll meet the love of my life soon or hunt down some sperm or something cause my baby fever is truely unbearable #i call it baby fever but i think it's just a deep overwhelming desire to be a good parent like how my mom is yk #also i just. want a baby. like... that's allowed #people are allowed to want to have babies #anyway #yeah #i guess i have to distract myself now because i'm gonna be fucked up for the rest of the week! huzzah!#i found pictures on pinterest that look just like him #how do you handle this?????? anyone got any tips for being debilitatingly single and coping with baby dreams???????????

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realcube · 5 months ago

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thursday. the only day kageyama is off while you are at work, meaning he has to watch the kids.

thankfully, you are home by five and are greeted with the sweet — yet uncommon — sight of your husband kickin' it back on the couch, watching tv. this pleased you for two reasons: firstly, kageyama is always training and child-wrangling so it's nice to see him take it easy for once, and secondly, the tv hasn't been turning on recently so he must have successfully fixed it.

you take a couple steps towards him, "hi, sweetie. how was your day? i see you managed to fix the tv?"

kageyama pauses his show to look at you, "it was good, but i didn't fix the tv."

you put your bags down and hang up your coat, "oh, it fixed itself?"

"no, the kids did."

you blink a couple times, surprised at first but then assuming he meant they pressed some random buttons on the remote and out of sheer luck it turned on. "speaking of which, where are they?"

"in the garage." he replied bluntly, carrying your bags to the bedroom.

your jaw drops and you yell, "kags! what are they doing in the garage unsupervised?"

kageyama looks genuinely baffled by your reaction, and calls after you while you run off, "they're changing my oil!"

as if on cue, when you enter the kitchen, you see the twins have just entered the from the garage. you'd hug them, but they're covered in grime and oil. "what are you two doing?"

"kageyama-sama told us to do our chores."

you aren't even sure where to begin with that. you turn to your husband with a horrified look, who is watching from the living room, "why are our children calling you kageyama-sama? what happened to papa?"

he shrugs, so you turn back to your children. "kids your age shouldn't be fixing tvs and changing oil. i think when kageya— i mean, papa told you to do your chores, he meant tidying up your toys and setting the table."

"but we already did that." they motion to the dinner table which is, indeed, set. you grumble internally, but keep your best parent face on, "still, what you're doing isn't safe. i thought you'd know better by now, i'm very disappointed. please go your room."

they both sigh, defeated, and trudge out of the kitchen and up to their bedroom. when they pass their dad, they look up at him with big innocent eyes in hopes he'll bail them out, but he averts his gaze.

once they are gone, you exhale through your nose. unsure of what you've gotten yourself into. then, you hear kageyama's ask, "so, do i need to clean the gutters myself, then?"

#kageyama x reader #kageyama fluff #kageyama x you #kageyama tobio #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #yes this is inspired by the twins from single parents 😞#they are very funny to me...

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naffeclipse · 1 year ago

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The baby brain rot is kicking in with Cardinal Instinct and that one ask with the mama humpback YN now aaaa just imaging Ribbon seal siren YN or Selkie YN coming back to their little baby only to come out the breathing hole and see a certain Orca who is design to kill their young with their little white puffball baby

Shaking your hand so hard right now about the baby brain rot!!

Crying over a baby ribbon seal!!! Look at this little guy!!!

Now picture a baby mer with that soft and fuzzy, silver and black tail!

Reactions would differ between Ribbon Seal!Y/N and Selkie!Y/N, as much as panic and fear could differ with finding an orca siren holding your baby.

Ribbon Seal Y/N would freeze, staring at this siren orca holding your infant mer so delicately in his claws, even supporting his little head and cooing softly. You'd demand your baby back in a thick, terrified voice. He'd ease the baby into your arms and you'd hug your child close, amazed that, somehow, he hasn't eaten you or your young.

But he doesn't let you go. He looms over you and your baby and makes promises: he will take care of your little family, and you'll see how much better it is to have a protector, to have him, with you.

As for Selkie!Y/N, you know that your pup is safe all swaddle in her new seal coat, the color innocently white and soft, but you're still so nervous to leave her for even a few moments. Still, you have to eat, and so does your baby. You pull on your seal fur, dive into the water, and quickly return with some fish in your animal mouth but there's something already by the ice shelf, and all other signs of life have vanished.

A towering orca siren playfully sings to your baby right where you left her. He's fawning over the white fluffball. You cry out, shedding your coat just to reach out across the ice to snatch your baby out of reach from the siren, but the siren grabs you. He's all teeth. Your pup squeaks and he looks at her with a grin that puts you on edge, but he says how beautiful you both are. Though he pulls you closer, and you hug your pup tighter, you wonder how you can get him to loosen his hold.

#the fluffball babies ahhhhh #selkie!reader #ribbon seal!reader #orca!eclipse #eclipse seeing a tiny white puffy baby and a single parent and immediately falling in love (obsession)#eclipse is just “if i approach the baby first it will turn out great” and doesn't think twice about it #*panicking seals*

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sweet-evie · 1 year ago

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Strolling in Starlight

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 4

Content: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo, Sentimental!Gojo, Mentions of Suguru and Satoru’s deceased lover, Pining (all Satoru), Satsuki doesn’t understand a thing her dad is saying.

A/N: Not Gojo showing off his powers to a baby as if they can understand.

Never Grow Up Pt 3

December 2012

“‘Tsukiiii…” Satoru groaned, stretching out the last syllable in her name as he pushed her door open. “I thought we were past this.”

Grumbling, he effortlessly picked his way through the mess of building blocks and plushies on the floor that he neglected to put away before her bedtime. (Infinity on auto was a perk he never wanted to be without; saved him emergency trips to the hospital because he was sure he’d stepped on legos hundreds of times by now).

Satoru propped his elbows on the edge of Satsuki’s bassinet and peered down at her scrunched up, slightly red face from crying. This was the fourth time this week — consecutive days of the house being shaken up at ungodly hours of the morning because of a screaming baby and her consequently turbulent cursed energy.

Shoko warned him about this… She told him some babies get into a phase at 7 months where they don’t appreciate being apart from their caretakers and that it’s completely normal, but it sure is a bitch to deal with. Usually, it wasn’t a problem, because Satoru rarely slept anyways, and he was — more often than not — awake and doing things. His concern was Megumi and Tsumiki. Those kids needed their sleep… And Satsuki had a pair of lungs on her. Wonder where she got those from.

“Princess, I’m all for you crying and calling for me, but we can’t keep waking up Tsumiki and Megumi like this. They have school tomorrow… I think.”

Satsuki rolled over to lie on her stomach. She was still crying, a little quieter now that her favorite person had come into the room to appease her.

“C’mere.”

He reached in and lifted her out of her bassinet, and held her at arms’ length. She had that ridiculously adorable dumbfounded look on her face that most babies seemed to have after they stopped crying — looking around cluelessly as if they didn’t cause disturbances just moments before. If he had neighbors and they lived in a smaller apartment, he was sure he would have gotten noise complaints by now.

Satoru brought his daughter closer and did the routine check he’d always done every time she woke up in the middle of the night since he brought her home from the hospital 7 months ago. Her diapers didn’t require changing, and she wasn’t hungry, so…

“Did you really just want to be close to me?” He teased her, tickling her tummy a little.

She squealed her answer and as she gave him her gummy smile, he narrowed his eyes.

“Are your teeth coming in?” He had the inappropriate urge to poke his finger in and feel around her gums, because those little white buds were definitely not there before. “Shoko told me you might be a late teether. You were supposed to get these 3 months ago.”

In hindsight, that probably explained all the drooling, the general fussiness, her awful habit of attempting to eat her fingers until someone brought over a pacifier, and her demonic urge to gum all her plushies to death. His clothes didn’t escape her either.

“I’m getting you a teething ring. I really should’ve, don’t know how I missed that.”

Satoru outstretched his hand and used Blue to draw one of Satsuki’s toys over to him. The movement caught the baby’s attention, and she squealed in delight as she followed the object’s path. How did it look to her curious eyes, a plushie flying across the room to land in her father’s palm? But it seemed she couldn’t care less after Satoru handed it to her. She grabbed Wanyamon and pulled on its ears. Her babbling and her attempt at motor boating (something she picked up from Tsumiki and Satoru) showered her father in drool.

Satoru snickered and watched as Satsuki’s face lit up with excitement. It must be another sight to see — liquid suspended in midair, drool kept at bay by Infinity.

“Okay, Spitter, now what?” Shaking his head, he pushed the small plushy back into her arms when it almost fell to the floor from her lax grip.

Satsuki crumpled the cloth in her little fists and put one of the ears into her mouth. Snickering, he kissed the top of her head and bounced her a little in his arms. “You don’t look sleepy, but I need you to go back to bed because it’s so late, and your mom will hate me if you don’t get the sleep that you’re supposed to.”

She stared up at him with big doe amber eyes that reminded him too much of her late mother, just as an idea popped into his head.

“Hey ‘Tsuki? Want to go see the stars up close?”

=OoOoO=

Beautiful star-studded Tokyo skies were rare to see, but it was a privilege enjoyed by the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Suspended mid-air, 6,000 feet above the ground, Satoru strolled across empty air, stepping on manipulated space underneath his feet, walking through clouds with each step, carrying a deeply fascinated baby in his arms.

Not for the first time, he himself appreciated the blanket of stars above them. He was holding Satsuki up against his chest and shoulders and she leaned back as far as she could, turning her fair-haired head this way and that, little hands tugging mercilessly on his hair all the while.

Her excitement came in the form of babbles and squeals that sometimes sounded like they were supposed to be questions, and he nodded along.

“Bet you didn’t think your dad could fly huh?” Satoru smirked, gently prying her fingers away from the hair hanging in front of his face. She’d poked his eye one too many times for his liking by now. “Well, it’s not flying… More like… I’m manipulating the space around me so I can do things like this.”

A finely controlled red orb launched itself from the tips of his fingers. The ball of energy careened across the sky and dissipated after it disturbed a group of cumulus clouds.

Satsuki was murmuring things softly in a language that only babies could understand. She twisted restlessly in his arms and Satoru had to re-secure his hold on her lest she fall.

“What are you so interested in back there?” Satoru teased, turning around to stare at empty air behind him. “Red is not enough for you?”

“Da-da Da-da~ Dada.” She sang and giggled and swung her tiny onesie-clad legs.

As the wind continued tousling his hair, he readjusted the beanie on Satsuki’s head, so it covered her ears a little more. For some reason, she reminded him of one of those Kewpie baby commercials from his childhood — all wide-eyed curious stares and rosy cheeks.

“As I was saying before you interrupted me—” He booped the tip of her nose and she scrunched her face at him. “If you happen to have Limitless too, you could do cool stuff like what daddy did and show off to all of your friends. It’s going to take a lot more effort to master Limitless, or at least, use it competently without Six Eyes, but I know you can do it. You have me, after all. I’m the best teacher you’ll ever have.”

“Baboo!”

“Ow!”

Satsuki squealed and closed her fist around Satoru’s nose, giggling and smiling her gummy smile as her father made a face. He pried her hand off again, and mimed eating her fingers — making the silly cookie monster noises that he knew she recognized from Sesame Street. (He had his current students to thank for that). Her answering shriek could have woken Megumi and Tsumiki had they been in the house, and Satoru laughed along with her.

He held her at arm’s length as she continued to squeal and drool all over the front of her onesie. He spun around slowly twice, just to see how his baby would react, and she rewarded his efforts with a string of baby talk.

“Why are you so energetic at like two in the morning?” He wondered out loud, bringing her close again.

She wriggled in his hold and subconsciously wrapped her short and chubby arms around his neck.

“You don’t even know what stargazing is yet, do you?” He readjusted his hold on her again and patted her back slowly to the rhythm of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ playing in his head. “It’s when people go outside to stare up at the night sky and try to find constellations. To be honest, it’s pretty lame when you live in the city because hardly any stars would be visible through all the light pollution. This is way better, don’t you think so?”

Satoru doubted the baby was paying attention to him as she stared up at the endless expanse of tiny lights above them — babbling and doing her own commentary in a language only she understood.

“Mhm, those are stars, Princess. We still can’t touch them from here, but we can see a lot more of them.”

They whiled away in the sky for a short time like that; father and daughter strolling together under a dark canvas dotted with billions of balls of gas, burning hundreds of miles away. He pointed out made-up constellations to her, naming them after people in his life — talking about how those clusters of stars looked like Megumi when he was reading a book, or how that particular line of stars reminded him of Tsumiki when she played in the swings.

It was weird, but Satsuki didn’t think so…

The wind continued to whip at his hair and his clothes when he chose a spot in the sky to stop. Carefully, he sat on empty space — next to a pocket of fluffy white clouds, stretched his legs, and crossed them at the ankles so he could lay Satsuki lengthwise on his lap.

Satsuki kicked her legs out and giggled at him as he held her tiny fists in both of his hands; playing a makeshift game of close-open-close with her short arms, while humming another nursery rhyme he was sure he’d learned when he was a child himself.

“Hey, guess what?” Satoru leaned closer a little and whispered conspiratorially after the second nursery song ended. “Your great grandma told me once that people who are gone turn into stars.”

Satsuki replied with a bunch of incomprehensible baby talk. She twisted around again to lay on her stomach, and Satoru was quick to pick her up and guide her into a sitting position on his knee instead, with his arms supporting her and holding her close for safety.

“Pu-pee.” She squealed and giggled again, curious hands reaching up to grab and tug at her beanie. “Da-da, da-da~ Da-daaaaa~”

Smiling at her unquenchable eagerness and energy, he slowly rocked her back and forth and littered quick kisses along the side of her face while he stared up at the canopy of stars.

“Do you think Mommy’s up there?” Satoru shook his head and chuckled. “I bet Mommy would kick my ass because this is actually pretty dangerous for you, you know. One slip-up and it’s ‘down will come baby, cradle and all.’ Should’ve brought the carrier. But eh… It’s fine.” He kissed the top of her beanie. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I’m the safest place you’ll ever be. Your dad’s the strongest after all.”

They listened to the wind as it sung a song of its own, and perhaps if he deluded himself enough, he would be convinced it was his Love coming to check on them momentarily. Yes, she would probably chide him for being careless and for bringing his daughter thousands of feet up into the air, but if she were here, he would have brought her with them too.

It had the makings of a perfect family date, didn’t it?

Just him, her, and their baby girl strolling under starlight — far away from the stresses of normal life and jujutsu sorcery.

“I miss your mom.”

Had Satsuki been old enough to understand, perhaps she would have heard how sadness stained her father’s usually cheery disposition… Perhaps she would have seen the way the light in his eyes dulled ever so slightly at the memory of the Love he had lost.

And yet, a fond and bittersweet smile still made its way to his lips at every memory that drifted to the surface. “I did this with her once. Took her up to Tokyo Skytree. She kept smacking me the first time I did it because I startled her. My bad…” He snickered and perked up suddenly when he remembered, “Oh! My teleportation doesn’t disorient you, does it?”

“Da-da da-da… Ba-boo~ Ba-bee!”

“Taking that as a ‘no.’” He sighed. “I miss my best friend too. His name’s Suguru. You would have liked him if he were still around. Suguru can absorb and manipulate curses, and he really had this cool rainbow dragon curse that he would bring out sometimes. Auntie Shoko, me, and him used to fly above Tokyo riding on that thing.”

And what a headache they gave Yaga too… Wandering outside of campus after class hours was generally frowned upon and heavily discouraged, but that hadn’t stopped the three of them from leaving their dorms in the dead of night anyway. He treasured the memory of those balmy nights full of late convenience store snack runs. They would hang out in parks after that, or sneak into izakayas. (He and Suguru were certainly tall enough to pass, and no one said ‘no’ to Shoko). Sometimes, they deliberately returned to campus when the sun was high just to see what would happen if they broke school regulations.

“There was also the stingray, but that one’s smaller and only fits one person.”

Satoru mumbled to himself, lost in the memory of that time when he dared to race Suguru. Which was faster? The stingray vs the rainbow dragon. Shoko thought they were ridiculous, but she played referee for them anyway — all while she rode atop another one of Suguru’s airborne curses, casually smoking her cigarette as she watched the boys cackle and try to playfully sabotage each other to get the upper hand.

A moment of silence followed, punctuated by the howl of the wind and Satsuki’s quieter babbling.

“Princess, do you even know that you’re born into a sorcerer family? Maybe you don’t understand yet, but I’ve seen you interacting with Megumi’s dogs.”

Megumi introduced them to her at Satoru’s suggestion, just to see if Satsuki would react, and she did. She patted their fur and crawled towards them. Satoru would go so far as to say she would have chased them if she had been capable of walking… Perhaps soon the house would come alive with the sounds of little feet pattering on the floor, pursuing shadow pups. Megumi didn’t react to it much, but Satoru caught him summoning the dogs with Satsuki around. He would read to her while she poked and prodded at the Divine Dogs.

Too bad Tsumiki can’t see the canines though…

Cheeks puffed out in disappointment, Satoru muttered, “It sucks that Tsumiki can’t see them the way you and Megumi can. She would have loved those dogs.”

“Mi-mi boo… Da-da da-da!”

He smiled and poked his daughter’s cheek. “Tsumiki is just like your mommy, you see. She’s a non-sorcerer, and if things go well, she can live a normal and happy life. I want that for you too, ‘Tsuki. I’d give it to you. To be honest though, I wanted to wait to have you… Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but Mommy and I weren’t supposed to make you yet.”

His Love’s panicked face after she’d confirmed her suspicions still felt so fresh. He could still see her in his mind’s eye — could still see the droop in her shoulders when she approached him and confessed, the pregnancy test held between her trembling hands.

“We wanted to get married after I’ve reformed the jujutsu world, and then we’d have you. But you came early! And that’s completely fine too.” He smiled fondly at Satsuki’s innocent face, blinking up at him. “At least now, you get to see me do it, and by the time you’re all set to go to Jujutsu Tech, it will be different, and so much better.”

Her smile slowly began to turn upside down and her familiar cry for attention pierced the air not long after. If she wasn’t in need of a diaper change or hungry, that only meant one other thing. Someone was getting cranky and that same someone was demanding her beauty sleep. Finally.

Satoru tucked her into the crook of his neck again and patted her back gently, readjusting his hold at the same time so she could snuggle more comfortably if she needed it.

“What do you say we make this a tradition? Just you and me. Like that idea?”

But his voice had already lulled her to sleep, and Satoru smiled.

“Sleep tight, sweet girl. I have you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #dad!gojo #girl dad gojo #fushigojo #single parent gojo #mentions of #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #satoru gojo x oc #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #wbad fanfiction

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geniousbh · 7 months ago

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⸻ ❝ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒑 ❞

enzo vogrincic ₓ f.reader

wc.: 4,5k

prompt: baseado nesse excerto (parte do enzinho apenas) e na música "do i wanna know?" do artic monkeys (recomendo escutar pra leitura)

obs.: sou suspeita pra falar sobre como isso saiu pq eu gostei muito! fazendo uma quebra nas putarias duvidosas que eu ando compartilhando aqui nesse blog - e que eu não me arrependo, no entanto!! 🥴 espero que gostem, bebês!!! já somos quase 200 bilhões de geniousbhers e eu estou muitoo mtmtmtmt feliz com como as coisas tem ido <3 nossa girlies party é a melhor! desculpem os errinhos e boa leitura 💗

obs.²: sim, eu coloquei o esteban pra fazer cameo de novo, porque me afetou psicologicamente as obras recentes dele sendo um dilf ceo, peço que entendam meu momento delicado!!

tw.: smut, um palavrãozinho de nada aqui e acolá, praise kink, worship (fortíssimo), pet names, nipple play, sexo oral (f), sexo vaginal, sexo desprotegido (heróis usam capa fml), creampie, e se tiver algo mais vocês me avisem mwah. MDNI

— tem certeza? quer dizer, não é da minha conta com quem você se relaciona, mas... — o loiro falou baixo, apesar de estarem ambos sozinhos próximos à máquina de café no quiosque do andar.

— não sei... honestamente, sinto que é errado, mas, o que é que eu tenho a perder? — enzo respondeu antes de bebericar.

tinha aproveitado para conversar com o colega, recentemente promovido, nos minutos de pausa que tinham. ambos ocupavam cargos de diretoria, mas agora, esteban estava mais próximo do chefe, como braço direito e com parte nas ações da empresa, e o vogrincic se perguntava como e o "porquê" ao notar a filha do dono caminhando até eles com uma pastinha rosa em mãos; sempre muito pomposa desfilando pelos corredores acinzentados do prédio.

encarou o amigo confidente com o canto dos olhos e riu soprado quando a voz fina estava perto o suficiente para soltar um "meu pai pediu que você me ajudasse" toda calma, mas que nitidamente carregava uma urgência escondida. e lá ia o kukuriczka, fechando a expressão e fingindo que não gostava nada da atenção completamente inapropriada que a filhinha do cabeça branca oferecia a ele. isso, se já não tivesse oferecido outras coisas mais.

o uruguaio não poderia ser mais hipócrita naquele sentido, se deixando levar por um sentimento incoerente e repudiante que ele tinha pela babá de sua pequena. o que ele podia fazer, no entanto? não era alguém de grandes ambições, trabalhava o suficiente na semana para descansar no final desta e dar boas condições para sua família - a filha e os pais -, gostava de tranquilidade e tinha hobbies que não fugiam da normalidade, evitava se engraçar com o restante do pessoal do escritório e tinha poucos amigos, mas ainda era homem.

então chegar em casa e te flagrar ninando maria nos braços, de frente à sacada, afagando as costas da criança num carinho que era tão maternal que parecia impossível de se aflorar numa garota jovem como você, ou ainda te pegar adormecida no sofá, em meio as almofadas e suas apostilas de faculdade, depois de já ter colocado a bebê no quartinho num dia que ele precisava de você até mais tarde, eram coisas que mexiam com algo adormecido nele.

desde o momento que tinha perdido a esposa para um acidente de carro, enzo podia contar em uma mão quantas vezes tinha se interessado por outra mulher - e o número era ainda menor das que ele tinha chego nas vias de fato -, e não era como se ele tivesse problemas ou que fosse um trauma latente ter ficado viúvo aos vinte e oito anos de idade, mas por natureza ele gostava de coisas mais calmas, mais reservadas, que não gerassem burburinho, e ter uma filha e uma história tão impactante, por si só, era fofoca.

não com você. a garota que o amigo romero havia apresentado e que tinha disponibilidade para ajudar na manhã e de tarde. na entrevista quando se conheceram, tinha agido com tanta naturalidade após ouvir os acontecimentos, sem forçar uma reação super empática ou perguntar além do que devia. parecia tão independente e decidida, e ao mesmo tempo frágil e medrosa.

chegava sempre atrasada, o que ele relevava porque sabia que o metrô era um caos pela manhã, mas vivia trazendo livros diferentes para ler com maria, fazia as compras pra semana com o dinheiro que ele deixava e nos dias em que não tinha de se preocupar com trabalhos e relatórios se aventurava na cozinha do apartamento fazendo bolos, brownies, polvilhos.

enzo era envolto pelo ambiente que você criava, gostava de como a casa tinha passado a ficar mais bagunçadinha, e não no sentido ruim, mas por ter mais vida dentro, ele amava o cheiro dos confeitos quando chegava do trabalho depois de um dia longo, e sentia, novamente, a vontade de pertencer a alguém.

mas não era nenhum idiota também, antes de tomar o primeiro passo tinha te estudado, suas expressões e trejeitos quando conversavam, os olhos vacilantes que pareciam evitar os dele a qualquer maneira e os arrepios quando suas peles roçavam, mesmo que por breves segundos. o que tinham o levado a te presentear com um beijo no seu aniversário. a sem graceza e o seu acanhamento naquela data tinham feito a cabeça dele ferver com tantas possibilidades, as quais ele abraçou com muito gosto quando no final do dia se pegou se masturbando durante o banho.

a culpa que o consumiu depois foi avassaladora, pensando que um homem dez anos mais velho não deveria olhar para uma garota assim, que talvez, suas reações fossem de medo e de estranheza e que você se forçava a trabalhar ali para conseguir algum dinheiro e deixar a conta do banco positiva no final do mês.

— mierda. — resmungou quando derrubou chá no livro de poesias que tentava ler.

e só tentava mesmo porque a mente era açoitada com várias perguntas, que enzo não tinha a menor condição de responder num sábado de noite que ele tirava para descansar. maria na casa dos avós e ele com o apartamento num quase breu, se não fosse pelo abajur de luz amarelada na sala, onde ele se deitava preguiçosamente com o livro em mãos, agora pingando já que tinha se descuidado.

levantou e foi até a cozinha, tendo que acender as luzes para buscar algum pano limpo e tirar o excesso das páginas, notando pouco depois que sua calça moletom tinha sido molhada também. enzo, enzo... pensava consigo mesmo, nervoso por estar tão vulnerável com aquela história.

e teria tirado a peça inferior e colocado pra lavar se algo não o chamasse a atenção antes: um barulho de trancas, fazendo com que o moreno franzisse o cenho e caminhasse até a sala devagar. olhou para a luz que entrava por debaixo da porta de entrada, o que implicava que os sensores de movimento no corredor do andar tinham sido ativados e viu uma sombra zanzando. não poderia ser sua mãe, apesar de que essa tinha sim uma cópia das chaves do apartamento, ela com certeza ligaria se maria estivesse precisando de algo.

engoliu seco, olhando em volta, buscando um objeto que pudesse usar caso fosse uma tentativa de roubo, segurando o guarda-chuva, que tirava do suporte com cuidado, atrás das costas.

a imagem que tinha quando a porta se abria, contudo era no mínimo curiosa. você estava com o olhar baixo e os olhos pesados, uma roupa casual e que diga-se de passagem modelava bem seu corpo; um cropped e uma saia curta, os tênis ele já conhecia bem. e demorou a notá-lo ali, chegando a se virar e fechar a passagem com o molho de chaves que enzo tinha te dado no começo do ano; e aparentemente esquecido disso.

quando suas vistas se acostumavam com a penumbra do ambiente e você explorava o redor soltava um chiado alto, cambaleando para trás e levando a mão ao interruptor com rapidez.

— sr. vogrincic??! — se exaltou desentendida, lembrando do horário e colocando uma mão cobrindo a boca, com medo de receber uma multa ou algo assim já que sua quitinete era um cubículo e tinha paredes tão finas que ouvia até mesmo os mosquitos dos outros apartamentos. — o que o senhor tá fazendo aqui??

— eu é quem pergunto pra senhorita... — replicou e um riso apaziguado escapou-lhe, colocando o guarda-chuva no gancho novamente. — perdiste el camino a casa, chiquita? — cruzando os braços que estavam expostos na falta de uma blusa.

você se situava lentamente, sua carinha indo de espanto para vergonha quando entendia o que tinha acontecido. se encolhia, agachando e cobrindo a cabeça, choramingando. não estava no seu prédio, tão pouco no seu apartamento.

— nossa, o senhor vai me achar uma maluca... — levantando o olhar pra ele outra vez. — mas eu juro que não foi intencional! juro mesmo! fui numa festa aqui perto, mas começou a ficar chato e eu decidi ir pra casa, nem me toquei de que tava no automático e vim pra cá. — bufou sentida.

ele acompanhava, a maquiagem fraquinha e as unhas pintadas, que você evitava usar nos dias de trabalho, provavelmente porque enzo tinha dito que queria que maria tivesse uma infância duradoura e bem vivida, sem crescer antes da hora. você ficava cada vez mais linda e intrigante aos olhos dele.

— deixa disso, não tem que se desculpar... — colocou a mão sobre o peito e te fitou, mordendo o lábio brevemente. — na verdade, fiquei aliviado quando te vi.

— você pensou que era algum ladrão? — a pergunta saía num tom fraquinho da sua parte, sem conseguir processar que por estar avoada havia gerado aquela confusão. — me perdoa, por favor.

enzo suspirou e então se aproximou de ti, segurando seus ombros retraídos e deixando um selar na sua testa.

— já falei que não precisa se desculpar assim. foi um acaso. todo mundo faz as coisas no automático às vezes. — e ele até gostaria de dizer que tinha achado uma graça sua cabeça traduzir "casa" como sendo o apartamento dele, mas guardaria o comentário. — vem, fiz um pouco de chá mais cedo, deve estar quente ainda. — te puxando devagar para a cozinha.

suas olhadinhas eram bem furtivas, quando voltava a ter completo senso das coisas não lhe escapava a situação do uruguaio, vestindo só uma calça moletom, os cabelos compridinhos amassados e desgrenhados sem aquele gel todo que ele usava pelas manhãs para ir trabalhar, e a casa numa quietude intensa. enzo era como um gato marrom, daqueles que se dão melhor com senhorinhas e com crianças, mas que não gostam muito de sair, ou de brincar com aquelas bugigangas espalhafatosas, preferem o canto deles, mas de vez em quando aceitam algumas coçadinhas.

— a maria foi com os avós? — perguntava tentando puxar assunto e esquecer a grande gafe.

— foi sim. — respondeu enquanto pegava uma caneca no armário, fazendo com que os músculos das costas largas expandissem e contraíssem, te fazendo entreabrir a boca. até então só tinha visto ele com roupas de academia, mas não com tanta pele exposta. — quer açúcar ou não precisa?

— não precisa. — você pegou a porcelana, achando conforto na quenturinha que se concentrava ali, segurando com ambas as mãos e aproveitando para sentir o cheiro da bebida. — que bom que o senhor gostou, quando fui fazer as compras essa semana, fiquei na dúvida se pegava o chá de boldo ou se trazia o mate normal.

enzo gostava de observar como você contornava a situação e se ele estivesse um pouquinho mais cruel te faria explicar tintim por tintim do caminho feito e como tinha passado pela portaria do condomínio sem que antônio o interfonasse - já que era tarde o suficente para se desconfiar de uma visita casual -, mas se limitou a te olhar, esticando uma das mãos para tirar uma mecha que caía sobre seus olhos e colocar atrás da sua orelha. você estremecia, apertando a boca na borda do recipiente, fazendo contato visual, e nada disso o escapava.

— vou arrumar o quarto de hóspedes pra você dormir. — o mais velho adiantou.

— não. não precisa, eu já vou indo. — segurou o pulso dele e o fez virar apenas a cabeça.

— você acha que eu vou te deixar sair nesse horário? — falava mudando o semblante pra algo mais sério e sóbrio. — você termina o seu chá, vou deixar uma muda de roupa que você pode usar pra dormir em cima da cama. toma um banho e descansa.

e ali estava o enzo que você tanto ressentia, o enzo que te via como inconsequente e "muito nova" pra saber o que fazer da vida. quando este deixava a cozinha você formava um beicinho tentando muito não se frustrar. nem sequer conseguia culpá-lo por tratá-la assim daquela vez porque tinha praticamente invadido a residência. e se ele estivesse com colegas? com uma mulher talvez? seria horrível e muito provavelmente seria demitida. maria entraria na escolinha no ano seguinte então não deviam ter muitos argumentos que o fizessem mudar de ideia.

parou de divagar quando terminou o chá, caminhando para o corredor e vendo ele sair do quarto de visitas. um sorriso complacente aparecia nos lábios bonitos e um afago foi deixado no seu ombro antes que ele sumisse no próprio quarto. entrou ali e viu as roupas na cama, uma blusa que provavelmente era do mesmo e uma boxer com etiqueta, não conseguiu evitar de sorrir com o cuidado.

viu? era esse o embate, gostava do tato e da preocupação, mas queria que ele se preocupasse por simplesmente querer assim e não porque te achava bobinha.

foi para o banheiro com as peças nos braços e notou no fim do corredor que a luz amarela havia sido apagada, ele já devia estar deitado então. ao contrário do que poderia parecer, falta de educação ou descaso, enzo apenas confiava muito em ti, acostumado com a sua presença e sabendo que você estaria habituada com tudo ali de dentro para não precisar ficar de cima.

no banho, sua mente te castigava, não conseguia se concentrar na água ou nos músculos relaxando, se lembrava do beijo no seu aniversário... breve, mas o suficiente para que você se recordasse exatamente de como a boca do mais velho era macia, de como o toque dele tinha sido firme e gentil e de como o corpo te prensando contra a bancada fora gostoso. estavam sozinhos lá agora, talvez... se você só perguntasse o que tinha significado... fechou o registro e saiu, se secando e vestindo as roupas largas emprestadas.

os passos eram dados com muito custo, temerosos, e o corpo retesava quando se encontrava de frente para o quarto principal. "isso é besteira", dava meia volta e cerrava os punhos, "mas é a única oportunidade", levava o polegar até a boca roendo a unha e se virava outra vez, "vai só incomodá-lo com isso...", recuava quando a mão erguia para bater, "é só inventar uma desculp-

e a porta se abria.

enzo passando a mão na nuca, bagunçando ainda mais os cabelos que estavam enormes. os olhos fixavam-se nos seus quando ele te percebia, mas não disse nada. em segredo, ele estava indo te perguntar a mesmíssima coisa que saiu da sua boca em seguida, mas ele o faria provavelmente bem menos embolado e atropelado.

— sr. vogrincic eu preciso saber o que significou o beijo! — puxava o ar angustiada. — eu não paro de pensar nisso, não tem um único dia desde que aconteceu que eu não

mas o agarre te envolvia e te puxava para dentro dos aposentos, cortando o raciocínio. era rápido e ágil, mas não a ponto de te machucar, isso jamais. fechou a porta atrás de ti e te encostou ali, apoiando uma mão na madeira e a outra brincando com o tecido da blusa dele em você, enquanto a testa pesava no seu ombro.

— o que você prefere que tenha significado? — o tom que ele usava era de um homem cansado e vencido, não fisicamente, mas mentalmente, porque ele precisava saber tanto quanto você.

— eu... — a boquinha contorcia, os fios espetados dele fazendo cócegas no seu pescoço e a respiração quente te deixando arrepiada, com os mamilos marcados no tecido de algodão. — se eu disser... você promete não me demitir? — perguntava tirando um riso mudo de outrem.

— prometo.

você tomava coragem, deitando a cabeça pra trás e fechando os olhos, confessando.

— queria que significasse que o senhor não me acha uma garotinha indefesa e burra... queria que me olhasse como mulher, sabe?... que me desejasse como mulher... — a última parte saía falha.

por um minuto inteiro o único som que se ouvia era o de suas respirações, a sua afetada já, e a dele calma, o remanso do quarto diferente de como seus pensamentos chegavam em um turbilhão; a vontade de sair de lá correndo, mas a necessidade de estar perto superando e te mantendo no lugar.

enzo parou de embolar a barra da blusa nos dedos e desgrudou lentamente a fronte do seu ombro, passando a te encarar de perto, quase roçando seus narizes. você parecia prestes a chorar de nervosismo com a admissão, instigando um lado másculo e um bocado vil nele. como homem, ter aquele tipo de efeito em alguém era delirante, mas ele estava tão miserável quanto a garota pequena à sua frente.

— então você quer que eu diga que... — ele começava, vagaroso e provocante. — desde o primeiro dia em que eu coloquei meus olhos em você, te achei a coisinha mais linda? — depositava um selar na sua bochecha. — que todas as vezes que eu te vejo chegar aqui de manhã a minha vontade é de te beijar por vários minutos a fio e me atrasar pro escritório? — a língua morna alcançava seu pescoço, deixando um rastro antes de sugar a pele fina. — ou ainda, que não exista um único pensamento são quando eu chego do trabalho e te vejo empinada na máquina de lavar? é isso, chiquita? você prefere assim? hm?

— enzo... — sua voz era embargada por um choro que não era de tristeza, não era de medo, de dor, mas sim de uma fraqueza interna muito grande, incapaz de resistir ao feitiço que ele lançava.

— sí...? eu preciso que você fale, princesa... — as mãos grandes e àsperas procuravam pelas suas, miúdas e suaves, anovelando os dedos. ele puxava uma até os lábios e beijava na parte de trás, o olhar que costumeiramente era dócil com um ar felino te atingindo à queima roupa. — porque se for isso, eu posso resolver... — sibilou. — nós podemos...

— por favor... — você miou apertando os olhos e sentindo as lágrimas escorrendo pelos cantinhos.

— por favor...? — e enzo era impiedoso. estava prestes a mergulhar em águas muito fundas, mas sabia nadar, só precisava ter seu consentimento e estaria feito.

— preciso de você...

o vogrincic sorriu alargando a boca antes de te capturar num beijo ardente. o toque descia imediatamente para a sua cintura, segurando firme ali e te espremendo entre ele a porta de modo que fazia seus pulmões buscarem ainda mais por ar, coisa que a boca sedenta dele não permitia.

seus braços o envolviam o pescoço, mostrando o quão necessitada estava e ele não demorou a te alçar pelas coxas, te ajeitando no colo e andando até a cama, sem cortar o ósculo. se sentava na beira contigo e era imprudente ao lhe apertar a bunda, mas você não recusava, apenas se prostrava mais para ele, roçando os seios cobertos pela blusa contra o peitoral desnudo.

na sua cabecinha as sensações se mesclavam, dando curto circuito no cérebro. o cheiro dele, do perfume caro que ele passava todos os dias, exalando de cada canto do quarto, a língua quente explorando sua cavidade úmida e brincando com seu músculo afoito, as mãos apertando sua carne com um afinco absurdo, tudo. aos poucos, o que faziam deixava de ser uma fuga imoral do cotidiano, e se tornava seu único objetivo.

ele parava, te segurava as bochechas e observava seu rostinho, não precisava falar, ele já sabia... te tirou a camisa e deslizou os palmos por todo seu tronco exposto, os ombros, as clavículas, escorrendo pelo vão entre os seus seios e por baixo destes, sem conseguir evitar de soltar um arfar admirado.

invertia vocês na cama, te colocando deitada, os fios se espalhando pelo colchão e seu rostinho jovem ansioso preso nele; uma pena ele não estar com sua câmera ali. mas, enzo já tinha passado dessa fase... da fase das peripécias públicas, das rapidinhas, das provocações vazias, ele era um homem, no melhor sentido da palavra. a boca cheinha envolveu um dos mamilos arrebitados primeiro enquanto os dedos continuavam na missão de te afagar cada centímetro, e de tirar aquela peça íntima, que, apesar de ficar muito sexy em você, apenas atrapalhava agora.

rodeava e mamava o peito, sentindo seu gosto, deixando babado o bastante até que se arrastasse para o outro, oferecendo as mesmas carícias que te arrancavam resmunguinhos manhosos. e continuou descendo, mordiscando a barriguinha, sugando e deixando chupões como se decorasse uma tela.

— eres perfecta... — sussurrou e roçou o rosto em seu baixo ventre, entre o umbigo e a púbis, sentindo a tez quente e os músculos trêmulos abaixo dele. — para mi, solamente para mi...

subiu os olhos aos teus encontrando eles fechadinhos enquanto você aproveitava, mas negou, a mão te segurando o queixinho e o nome sussurrado te tomando a atenção novamente.

— quero que você olhe... — pedia percorrendo os dedos sobre seus lábios que o capturavam as primeiras falanges para chupar, tão mole e entregue que apenas fazia o que lhe vinha à mente. — assim... — ele deixava enquanto ia se acomodando entre suas coxas roliças.

beijava sua virilha, fazia desenhos imaginários com a língua por lá, te deixando quase aflita quando arrastava os dentes de levinho pelo monte de vênus. e era ainda mais difícil acompanhar aquilo sem poder desviar já que o uruguaio se certificava vez ou outra de que você continuava atenta. não sabia o que ele ganhava sendo tão maquiavélico, mas tinha a certeza de que ninguém chegaria aos pés dele.

quando ele finalmente abocanhava o sexo sensível e melado você revirava os olhos. as mãozinhas que descansavam no lençol descendo e se perdendo em meio ao cabelo castanho escuro.

enzo esticava a língua arrastando da entrada até o grelo inchado num ritmo moroso. brincava com o pontinho deixando que escorregasse pela superfície do músculo, ouvindo seus gemidos carentes. mas, precisava confessar que ao passo em que ficava cada vez mais duro era difícil não descontar em você, naquela buceta morna e gostosa que preenchia a boca dele, que ele mastigava e sugava fazendo o cômodo ser preenchido com uma melodia devassa de quando a carne estalava e de quando a língua dele penetrava seu canal ensopado.

o pau chegava a palpitar, mas não conseguia parar de te mamar, seu sabor era viciante. enzo vogrincic não te chupava apenas, beijava seu sexo, a língua girava, se contraía e esticava dentro de você enquanto o nariz se afundava na fendinha molhada, ele sugava o melzinho que fluía e engolia, se afastando com o rosto completamente passado, o inferior dilatado dos movimentos e da fricção.

— tan dulce, nena... me volvi adicto... — ele sorria de canto.

enzo se colocou de joelhos na cama, te olhando dali de cima, tendo a certeza de que nunca tinha tido paisagem mais estonteante. tocou o membro sobre o moletom, tão ereto que até as veias marcavam na calça. desceu o cós aos poucos e mordeu o lábio com força, gemendo fraquinho quando se envolvia e começava a punhetar. você olhava, entorpecida, oferecendo a mão pequena para substituí-lo, mas ele recusava.

— não, chiquita... hoje não é sobre mim... você vai ter outras oportunidades, hm? — disse simples, sentindo-se mais do que pronto e então se esgueirando para pegar algo no criado mudo.

— não...! — você pediu quando ele tirava de lá um pacote de preservativos, destacando um com os dentes e te olhando sem entender. — eu preciso de você... tudo de você... — sussurrava.

se a mente do vogrincic já estava anuviada de luxúria antes, você terminava de deixá-lo completamente perdido. queria tudo dele? o pau e a porra que ele te encheria? meu deus....

o homem se curvava sobre si de novo, voltando a te beijar com demanda. subia uma de suas coxas até estar coladinha no seu tronco e descia o olhar para sua entrada. pincelava, afundando a glande gordinha e rosada entre seus labiozinhos, roçando de um lado para o outro, até que você chamasse fininho "enzoo...", e enfim deslizava para dentro, nenhum centímetro sobrando.

— puta madre... — enzo gemia sôfrego para si mesmo. — tão apertada... — e nisso enfiando o rosto na curva do seu pescoço, se embriagando no seu cheiro misturado com o suor que os corpos soltavam pelo calor e pelo atrito, o perfume de sabonete remanescente do seu banho recente apenas dando as notas finais pra que ele ficasse louco.

o quadril se impulsionava no vai e vem, o membro grande e grosso te beijando o pontinho esponjoso desde a primeira investida, como se tivesse sido feito para si, modelado para te preencher. a posição que não podia ser mais intimista com ele sussurrando o quanto você era boa, o quanto ele precisava se derramar em ti e te fazer dele enquanto os torsos se amassavam e roçavam.

suas unhas que o arranhavam as costas a cada vez que ele metia mais forte te fazendo duvidar do quão mais conseguiria aguentar. ele tinha a deixado já tão suscetível com o oral e agora seu membro vinha, sujigando cada canto interno e externo da sua bucetinha estreita, era demais.

— enzo.. enzo... — chamava numa prece.

— não segura, nena... dejálo fluir, de-

e ele mesmo não se continha, sentindo os apertos deliciosos que suas paredes davam ao redor do falo latejante, apertando os olhos e gemendo rouco quando se enfiava uma última vez. a pressão do seu orgasmo praticamente o ordenhando ali dentro, despejando até a última gotinha no seu colo do útero.

sua visão ficava turva, a sensação de preenchimento sendo o suficiente para te exaurir e quando o vogrincic fazia menção de se mexer você negava, com um biquinho.

— fica mais... — pediu, sentindo ele concordar mudo, te ajeitando melhor debaixo dele para que ficassem confortáveis.

sabia que ele era um homem certinho, muito provavelmente que optaria por uma ducha antes de dormir direito depois de uma foda, mas estava tão bom... que você acordava apenas no outro dia com o barulho da campainha do apartamento.

sentava no colchão assustadinha e com os cabelos desalinhados. notava que ele tinha te vestido a camiseta de novo, mas nem sequer sinal da cuequinha. levantava e ia até o batente do quarto, espiando o lado de fora e então ouvindo a voz de uma pessoa mais velha e uma infantil, esperando até que a porta fosse fechada novamente; seria incômodo se os pais dele te vissem ali, naquele estado.

mal teve tempo de caminhar até a sala quando maria vinha correndo, erguendo a cabeça e abrindo um super sorriso quando te reconhecia.

— papai! papai! a tia vai morar com a gente? — ela segurava sua mão a puxando até onde o mais velho estava tomando seu café preto usual.

— bom dia, bela adormecida. — ele provocava te fazendo ficar sem jeito.

— papaiii — a menorzinha se escorava nele, e então apontava para ti quando ele voltava toda a atenção para ela. — a tia vai morar com a gente, 'né?

— não sei... você precisa perguntar pra ela, princesinha. — ele colocava a xícara sobre a mesa e se curvava pegando a criança nos braços e enchendo de beijos, antes de pararem e te fitarem. — diz pra ela, maria, que seria muito bom ter ela aqui.

— é isso que o papai falou. — a menininha soprava e então estendia o bracinho na sua direção, querendo o abraço de ambos ao mesmo tempo. — você vem?

e quando você finalmente os encarava, ambos te olhavam com aquela carinha irrecusável de filhote abandonado, com o mesmo efeito de ter o coração flechado. você se derretia e não tinha como não balançar a cabeça positivamente.

— se não for incômodo...

— nunca seria. — o mais velho deixava um beijinho na sua testa. — vem, vamos tomar café da manhã.

#la sociedad de la nieve #lsdln smut #enzo vogrincic smut #enzo vogrincic reader #lsdln #enzo brainrot #single parent trope #to muito triste de verdade

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