#get to see them ever. instead i have to see my second least favorite person in the world in order to even just get groceries

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i WILL get to move back home

#the bin #i talked to my mom and things might go ok but idk #i just have to wait and see but i desperately hope i can move. i need to see a doctor so bad. my whole body feels horrible all the time #and my tooth has gotten so much worse. i can deal with it if thres an end date. i cant deal with it indefinitely. and i cant afford to get #it fixed without insurance. i would rather die than deal with this shit for another however long i have to i CAN NOT do that #esp bc i would need to go to work while experiencing it. idk. im shaky literally ALL the time and my insides alwyas hurt and my joints #hurt so much too. and half the time im at work my chest hurts and i cant see straight. i cant fuckin do this anymorew. #apparently my dad might be getting a new job so their landlord might be more willing to renew but idk. she said she should know on april 1st #which isnt that far away but idk. i mean. its not impossible theyll renew. who knows. i hope so. #i know at keast thst i have a way to get there if there is a place for me to live so thats good. my health cant take this anymore. and im #also not able to emotionally. idk what other option i have but. god. its hard enough as is. im having like a perpetual panic attack since i #found out i probs wont get to move. im tryna be optimistic. i dont think im physically capable of staying here any longer #it was hard enough to stay herenthis extra yearm ive been having breakdowns repeatedly over it. and my physical health keeps worsening #i miss my little sister. i wanna be able to see the people i care about. theres so few people in the world i enjoy being around and i dont #get to see them ever. instead i have to see my second least favorite person in the world in order to even just get groceries #hhhh. i want the time to pass so i can know for sure but i also desperately dont wnat it to cause im so scared itll be bad news #whatever. i will hope and believe that itll work out until i know that it wont. hhhhh. worst case scenario i guess ill just have to save up #and figure out moving there later on but like. i was really happy to NOT have to worry abt rent or working so i could focus on my health and #then i could go back that that stuff. oh well

[kumawaii]

THE LICKBACK | XMH

cw - cheating, toxic behavior, sending post-sex nudes, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

– for my 🍰 anon

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!minghao is the most beautiful person you’ve ever met, both inside and out. he’s so attentive and thoughtful. any time you’re around him you feel that you’re slowly being swept off your feet. his natural charisma and charm are so alluring that you can’t believe anyone could hate him. you can’t believe that your boyfriend does. like a lot.

you’re not sure when this animosity between your two favorite boys manifested, but it’s there and it’s not going away any time soon. bestie!minghao tries to act like he’s above it all, but you know him. there’s no way he can turn the other cheek when your boyfriend is so open about hating him.

the feud isn’t aggressive or blatant — at least not around you. there’s a lot of subtle digs and glares exchanged when you’re not looking, but from what your other friends tells you it’s a lot worse when you’re not there. you’re not even really sure why they don’t like each other. any time you ask either of them, they brush it off or change the subject entirely.

it’s futile, but you try to get them to like each other. forcing them to hang out doesn’t work at all. the two barely even acknowledge each other and somehow become even more distant. your boyfriend isn’t outright rude, but he does act like bestie!minghao doesn’t exist whenever you bring him around. this tiresome routine goes on until you finally get sick and tired of it. when you confront your boyfriend about it, you don’t expect him to snap at you.

“who gives a fuck if i don’t like your little friend?” his tone is mean and aggressive.

you blink slowly, trying not to get emotional at the tone he’s using with you. “i just want you guys to get along…”

your boyfriend lets out a frustrated noise. he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and running a tense hand through his hair. his gaze become accusatory in a way, and you can’t explain why you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“we’re not going to. as long as he wants to fuck you, i can’t be friends with him.”

you’re left speechless. never once had you considered that your best friend would think of you that way. years of platonic friendship has never led you to believe otherwise. apparently, your boyfriend doesn’t like your silence because in the next second he scoffs before he storms out of your apartment.

that night you keep replaying his harsh words until you can’t take it anymore. you rashly go over to bestie!minghao’s house to talk to him about what your boyfriend had said. like always, your friend is happy to see you in spite of you not letting him know you were coming over. he welcomes you into his home with a pretty smile that makes your heart jump.

“i have to ask you something.” you say as you follow minghao to his room. “and i need you to tell me the truth.”

“you know i never lie to you.” he says sincerely as he pulls you down on his bed so you can sit beside him.

those words make an unexpected heat pool in your stomach. they heat up your entire body as you shift nervously. “is it true you want to… have sex with me?”

bestie!minghao’s eyes widen. he clears his throat. “why would you think that?”

“i was with—”

“your boyfriend.” minghao cuts you off through clenched teeth, realizing that jealous asshole is the one who caused this. “he told you that?”

“he said it’s why he doesn’t like you.” you sound deflated.

you can see the clench of his jaw and his gaze sharpen. he’s angry, but unlike your heathen of a boyfriend, your best friend doesn’t take it out on you. instead he remains silent until he can calmly answer you.

“i can’t believe he reduced my feelings for you to just wanting to have sex.”

you’re not sure what consumes you, but the way your heart is bursting with affection can’t be ignored. it’s how you end up on top of bestie!minghao, bouncing on his big cock. his pretty hands are roaming every inch of your body, caressing your soft skin with tenderness that makes your cunt drip with heaps of arousal. you toss your head back with a loud moan as his dick slams deep into you.

“so fucking pretty.” minghao groans as he grabs your hips and starts to thrust up into you. “my pretty little angel.”

you move your hips desperately, grinding your filthy cunt all over his dick. with your head tossed back, you moan his name desperately. pleasure consumes your entire body as his pulsing tip brushes against your cervix. you’ve never been so close to cumming this quickly, and bestie!minghao’s heated gaze is only pushing you closer to that ecstasy.

“god, you’re perfect.” minghao moans as he sits up to mouth and lick at your bouncing tits. “and now you’re all mine.”

he abruptly flips you on your back, holding your legs open as he starts to pound into you. the way his cock drags against your wet walls is dizzying, and you can feel how he stretches you open with every rough snap of his hips. it only takes him pressing a sweet kiss to your lips for you to fall apart.

seeing you cum is the hottest thing bestie!minghao has ever seen. he fucks you through it, whispering endless praises against your skin. his words are sweet, murmuring about how much he loves you. it’s not long before he cums, too. he does it with a loud groan of your name. minghao fucks it deeper into you until you both can’t take anymore.

“your pussy looks so pretty like this.” minghao sighs as he reaches for his phone. “let me take a picture?”

you nod with a blissful sigh, spreading your legs for him. bestieminghao grins like a cheshire cat. he uses his fingers to spread your soiled lips apart as he angles the camera just right. the picture is perfect and filthy.

your boyfriend can only stare with a clenched jaw when he receives the picture. he recognizes the pretty little hand on the smooth thigh. the ring on the index finger is the one bestie!minghao had gotten you for your birthday. you had always preferred that one to the one he got you.

and as he throws his phone against the wall, he realizes that it wasn’t only the ring you preferred. you’ve always preferred your best friend.

#kumawaii.exe #minghao smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #minghao x reader #svt x reader #xu minghao smut #svt fic #minghao fic #xu minghao fanfic #xu minghao x reader #minghao scenarios #svt imagine

[andromeda-nova-writing]

A Sticky Situation

Wriothesley x Fem! Reader

Summary: With the sticker count rising higher and higher that week, it has finally reached a point where Wriothesley needed it to slow down for his sanity.

Words: 1,766

AN: I love stickers. I want to join Sigewinne in her bet.

Wriothesely had found what had to be the fifth sticker he had peeled off of his jacket just that morning alone. Not to mention it was the forty-second sticker that week and it was only Thursday morning. Usually, this prank from Sigewinne and the other Melusine wouldn’t bother him too much. It was harmless after all. But Forty-Two Stickers??? All in the same week?

Was it always this many and people were taking them off for him without telling him in pity? No, he would have noticed that if that was the case. It wasn’t like Sigewinne also had more Melusine friends visiting her more than normal. Maybe he really was a bad influence on Sigewinne if her bets had gone this far. Hopefully, that would be the extent of his influence and nothing else.

The one question he couldn’t get out of his mind besides how they were getting so many stickers was, where they were getting so many stickers from. It wasn’t like they got this many stickers sent down here from the overworld or that Sigewinne had the time to make so many stickers. And he hadn’t seen many of Sigewinne’s friends come to the Fortress of Meropide that week. It had to be Sigewinne who was currently winning that bet.

None of it made sense at this point. And what didn’t make even more sense was that he just found a sixth sticker on his boot. Maybe it was time to at least slow her pranks down. He wouldn’t stop them but this was starting to get disruptive. At least make her understand not to sticker on the leather of clothes. It never felt like it cleaned off right. He just hoped by bringing it up the sticker amount would go down instead of jumping it up higher as a challenge.

Making his way out of his office he took a glance around his surroundings. A peak over at the cafeteria had him spotting exactly who he wanted to talk to. Sigewinne was talking to her pharmacist friend from the overworld, a lovely woman who had taken it upon herself to sub in to try and help give Sigewinne a break to join her Melusine friends in the overworld. It made Y/N quite helpful as well if Sigewinne ever requested a set of extra hands as she was more comfortable around the Fortress than anyone else they would send down.

She flipped through a book leaning down just enough to show Sigewinne without causing her to strain her neck. Whatever the two were discussing had caused them to laugh aloud. “Personally, this one is my favorite. Its eyes are bigger than the shark's body."

Yeah, that was different from the normal pharmaceutical talk he never followed along with. It's easy to lose track of everything being referred to in great detail due to its chemical composition. This conversation even a child could follow.

"I take it your lunch went well.” He said making his presence known. 

Y/N closed up the book the two were going through handing it off to Sigewinne before standing straight up. “It did. I brought some muffins I bought down to share. How’s your day going so far your Grace?” She looked at him and smiled.

His eyes followed the book that had been handed off. “It's been okay.” He looked back up at Y/N’s face. “What happened to you thinking calling me that was weird?”

“You’re working at the moment. I can respect the professionalism within it even if it feels weird to say. Sigewinne and I were just finishing up.” She bit her lip holding her smile from getting any bigger.

“Anything you need?” Sigewinne asked making sure that the plain back of the book was facing his line of sight. She counted the stickers she could still see on him. There were 4 left. 5 if the one she placed on his chair made it on him.

“Can you at least not place any stickers on leather?” He bargained.

“Hmmm. I don’t see any on leather.” He must have peeled most of those ones off already. Pity. 

“I’ve counted forty-three this week. At least twenty of them were on leather. I don't care as long as they aren’t on the leather. Takes too long to clean off right.”

Y/N covered her mouth trying not to laugh. “Fourty-three?” Sigewinne had to be in the lead for sure.

Wriothesley frowned. He really didn’t want to have to bring her into this. “And do you want to tell me what medicine the two of you have been going on about that contains a shark with eyes bigger than its body?”

Annnnnnd Caught.

“I should go back to the infirmary. Someone might have shown up by now.” Sigewinne excused herself before she lost what Y/N had come down to give her.

She looked down at a nonexistent watch on her arm. “Oh look at the time. I should go.” She tried to walk away towards the exit only for Wriothesley to grab her arm and pull her back. “I didn’t dismiss you.”

 She turned her head over her shoulder looking back at him. “I’m not working for you today.” “Doesn’t matter. What was the book about?”

“Nothing to worry about. You do see how inappropriate this looks to everyone else. I can practically feel your heartbeat against my back.” “You’ve given me hugs in front of inmates before. We’ll be fine. I’ll let go when you tell me what was in the book.”

"Cause you won a match in the ring. I was high on adrenaline." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "Don't tell me you enjoyed it." She teased. 

"Don't change the subject.

“I’m perfectly on topic. I don’t know what you are so pressed about.”

“Do you understand that anything that comes within the Fortress without my knowledge can be considered contraband?"

Y/N pulled out of his loose grip and began walking towards the infirmary. He followed right behind. "Contraband? You do understand that Sigewinne and I are free people who work and sometimes work here."

"I know that. I asked nicely the first time."

"Nicely? You manhandled me." “I think we are running off of two very different definitions.” He lightly elbowed her side. “I have a feeling you’d enjoy that anyway.”

She rolled her eyes hiding a small laugh that tried to creep into her voice. “Wriothesley.” She attempted to scold him.

“We can unpack all of that on a different day.”

“It would be a short day with nothing to unpack.” She sped up her walk. It was hard to take his flirting seriously when there was still a sticker in his hair. He’d benefit from keeping a mirror on his person if the stickers were becoming a problem.

Upon entering the infirmary, Sigewinne and Ottnit were flipping through the infamous book. Laughing. Plotting when to strike their prank next. The two Melusines were clearly enjoying themselves. 

“Hi, girls.” Y/N greeted them as she and Wriothesley walked down the stairs towards them. “I’ve been assumed of bringing in contraband. May I see the book for a moment?” She held out her hand as Sigewinne passed her the book. “You do know we aren’t inmates here.” Sigewinne frowned at Wriothesley. “Told him that already.” She showed the open book to Wriothesley. “Happy now?”

His mouth dropped in shock. “I trusted you. Have you been the one supplying them?”

“Stickers are cute. I’m just giving my friends a gift. I don’t think that's betraying your trust.”

“Tell that to all the sticky residue on my jacket and boots. It won’t even come off right.” He complained. “Twenty of them on leather. I’m just covered in sticky dust.”

The three of them couldn’t help but finally break out laughing. Y/N invested her money in the right thing if he was to look this cute pouting. He crossed his arms frowning in an attempt to save himself from turning into a dust ball at the rate it was going.

Y/N handed the book back to Sigewinne. “Ottnit could you get me some baby oil and a few cotton balls.”

“Sure.” She went off and bought back the supplies. Sigewinne went off, setting the sticker book down on her table before sitting on a chair watching the faces of the two infirmary guests. 

Y/N took one of the cotton balls and dabbed a bit of the baby oil on it. Ottnit took the bottle of baby oil back. She grabbed one of the sleeves of the jacket and peeled off a sticker he had missed. Wriothesley frowned as she placed the sticker on his nose.

“You are doing a horrible job helping.” He took the sticker off his face and crumbled it up in his hand.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “My grandpa was a leather worker. He told me if there was any sticky residue on any leather, take some baby oil and rub it over it with a cotton ball.” She said as she cleaned off the sleeve of the jacket. She handed the used cotton ball to Ottnit before taking a clean one. “Dry it off with another cotton ball and then it's good as new.” 

Wriothesley looked over the sleeve. It was a lot better than his attempts. He sighed. “This doesn’t mean you can keep placing stickers on my jacket or boots,” he told Sigewinne and Ottnit. They were going to keep doing it anyway.

“Nothing to be angry about now.” Y/N dropped the sleeve of the jacket and handed the cotton ball to Ottnit. Ottnit went and threw away the used ones before putting up the baby oil.

“I wasn’t angry.”

“Good cause I’m going to keep giving them stickers.” She reached up pulled a sticker out of hair and placed that one on his nose as well. “I think they look good on you Ri.”

He rolled his eyes before repeating his action from before. “I’m not sure if you know the meaning of help.”

Y/N laughed. “I really need to get back to the surface. This lunch break has been going on a little long. I’ll see you later.” She turned around saying her goodbyes to Sigewinne and Ottnit before leaving the infirmary.

Wriothesley hadn’t even noticed how his eyes hadn’t left her till she was out of sight.

Ottnit sighed shaking her head. “You were right.”

Sigewinne smiled knowing she just won herself even more stickers. “When do you plan on asking her out?”

His head turned over to her. “Forty-five stickers. You get no say in this right now.”

#Wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #Wriothesley #genshin impact

[rosepascal]

you don't belong || Joel Miller x reader

summary: You really like Joel, more than you've ever liked someone before. But the most important person in his life absolutely hates your guts and you have no idea what to do.

warnings: angst to fluff, swearing, break up/make up. possibly OOC Joel.

a/n: Ahhhh this is my first longer fic in a hot second!! I did this instead of writing a final paper so I hope you enjoy <33

taglist: @avengersfan25

Joel and Ellie were family. To anyone it’s easy to see just how much the two of them truly care for each other. They don’t say it. Instead they tell each other in other ways. Their close bond is why you so desperately wanted Ellie to like you.

She’s a tough kid with a smart mouth and you admired her for it. You didn’t expect to be welcomed into their small family dynamic easily. In fact you didn't plan on it at all. Months were spent dancing around each other, sending flirty looks and sharing quiet moments when time would allow it.

The kiss, the first time either of you did something about the growing attraction, was short and sweet and happened in the middle of the night in his living room. You wanted something with Joel and he wanted it too.

The day he asked you on an official date was the happiest day you’ve had in a long time. But there was one major problem. Ellie hated you. You tried to win her over, or at least get her to not glare at you the moment she saw you.

When Joel would see you in town with Ellie by his side he’d light up and for a moment you’d forget everything and smile back. Then your eyes drifted to the side and you saw the annoyed look on Ellies face. Her eyes refuse to even meet yours.

Then it all comes crashing down again.

A peace offering, that’s what you were offering. Walking up to his house knowing he wasn’t there was a risk. But you cared a lot about Joel and you didn’t want this tension between you and Ellie anymore. If you could show her that she could trust you, that you weren’t trying to hurt either of them. Then maybe things would get better.

“Joel’s not here.” She opens the door and stares you down. She glances at the small bowl in your hands filled with fresh strawberries that you sneaked from the gardens. Joel had told you strawberries were her favorite so you hoped this would help. She hasn't slammed the door in your face yet so that's progress.

“I know, these are for you.” You offer the bowl to her but she doesn’t take it.

“Why?”

“Can I come in?” You ask gently.

The hope slowly fading as she seems more closed off than ever. Without a word she rolls her eyes and leaves the door open. Walking away towards the living room. Stepping inside you place the bowl on the kitchen counter and find her reading a book.

“Ellie, I was hoping we could talk.” You sit on the couch near her, nails digging into your knees.

“About what?” At times like this she really does resemble Joel. That ice cold look from her makes you shiver.

“Look I know you don’t like me and I’m not trying to force anything between us.” You start, nerves taking over as she sets down her book. Her face unchanging as she listens to you.

“But I really care about Joel and you…I just. I don’t want things to be this weird between us.” She clenches her fist and snaps at you.

“If you really cared then you’d leave us alone!” She knows deep down that you haven’t done anything to hurt Joel but you could eventually.

You could show up and take all his attention away and leave him broken. You could want him to change himself to fit the town standards or ruin what the two of them have already built. It took a while for her to truly trust Tommy and Maria and they were Joel’s real family.

You aren’t.

“Ellie…” You try not to let her words hurt you but they do.

“We don’t need you okay? I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to hurt you Ellie but-” You try but again she cuts you off. She's angry, shouting and finally letting it all out. Fear clouding her judgement as she hurls words that sting hard.

"I don’t care. Don’t pretend like you actually care about me when all you want is Joel.”

“That’s not true.” You say firmly.

“We’re happy without you, so just fuck off and leave us alone.” She storms upstairs and slams the door, shaking the whole house with it.

Pushing the palms of your hand to your eyes you try to suppress the tears. It’s clear that no matter what you do, she’ll never even tolerate you.

You love Joel but you can’t force yourself into their life. No matter how much it hurts. Ellie is everything to him. Wiping your eyes you stand up and open the door to leave.

“Baby?” You freeze at the sound of his voice.

Looking up you find Joel walking up to the door, a confused look on his face. He clocks the tears in your eyes immediately. His hands cup your face gently.

“I think we should break up.”

“What? Why?” He asks bewildered, hell just yesterday the two of you met for lunch and now you’re breaking up with him. You pull his hands away from your face but he grabs onto your wrists before you can leave.

“Baby please…Tell me what’s wrong.” His eyes go wide and fearful as you yank your hands away.

“I’m sorry Joel.” Every step you take away from Joel feels like a crack in your heart until it finally breaks.

Tears blur your vision as you slam the door to your horribly empty house. He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while and now it's gone. But it’s for the best, it’s for him. For Ellie.

At least that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep that night. 

- - - -

Life without Joel has been hell. You desperately missed him and while you managed to go back to appearing like nothing ever happened, deep down you were miserable. You missed the small dates and sweet talks. Now instead of getting butterflies when you see him you get a gaping hole in your chest. 

Joel wasn’t doing much better. Not that he showed it though. At least not in a very clear way. He took longer patrols, more dangerous routes. Started spending more time in his house than he used to. Even snapping at people more than usual. He’s turned into even more of an asshole and it was driving Ellie crazy.

After the talk the two of you had, she calmed down a bit. Still convinced she did the right thing but things did feel off still. She knew that you leaving was the cause of his lashing out. She wanted to protect him but now it feels like she’s ruined it all.

Thank god for Maria putting them on patrol together, much to Joel's annoyance. He hates when she goes on Patrol even though she’s more capable than half the adults in town. The air that’s normally filled with questions is now just silence between the two. 

“Hey Joel, is all this about...You know.” She asks. Her grip tightening on her gun as she walks side by side with Joel.

“No.” His reply is short and his tone doesn’t leave much room for any follow up but she pushes anyway.

“Then what’s gotten up your ass lately?” Joel rolls his eyes and keeps walking. He’s not particularly interested in discussing his failed romances right now.

There’s a small trickle of guilt that builds in Ellie as she takes in the state of Joel. Sure to most people he doesn’t look any different, still the same stone faced guy they see everyday. But Ellie knows him much better than most people.

Something’s wrong and it has to do with you. She didn’t mean to snap at you, but the protectiveness she feels for Joel outweighed any guilt at the time. Ellie stops and sighs.

There’s a nearby broken down fence that she puts her weight against. Her and Joel aren’t good at these kinds of talks.

“Hear somethin?” Joel raises his gun slightly higher, eyes darting around for any signs of people.

”I uh..It’s my fault. That they ran away.” Joel slings his gun across his back and crosses his arms. Not fully grasping what she’s saying.

“I said some things and I think it’s why they stopped talking to you.” A sudden realization dawns on him and his arms fall to his sides.

“Now why’d you do that?” His voice is a lot calmer than she expected and honestly that’s scarier. She shifts from side to side as she tries to find the right words.

“I’ve had a lot of people in my life…” She starts. “And those people have left. Except for you.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Joel says and she nods. She knows that. Really. He’s proven that in his own ways.

“Letting someone else in is hard and I didn’t want it all to. Disappear.” Joel’s silent, processing it all for a moment. Leaves crunch under his boots as he walks over to Ellie. Leaning against the old fence and stares out at Jackson.

The two of them don't really do sappy moments. They don't hold each other and cry and blubber on about how much they love each other, but that doesn't mean they don't know it. How much they mean to each other and how scary the idea of it going away can be.

“It don’t matter who comes through our lives ‘cause nothin’s gonna change between us. Ever. Alright?” His hand rests next to Ellies, a small smile on his face that she doesn’t see.

“That mean I’m stuck with your old ass forever?”

“More like I’m stuck with you, now let’s finish this damn thing so we can go eat.” Joel pushes off the fence and offers his hand out to Ellie who takes it.

Together they move a little faster and walk a little closer, ready to be done with patrol. 

- - - -

You didn’t expect the knock at your door on a random afternoon. Opening the door you’re met with the last person you expected to see. Ellie.

“Uh Hi,” You quickly step to the side to let her in, confused on why she’s here when she couldn’t even look at you before.

“Is something wrong?” Your brain jumps to the worst, if she was here willingly then something must have happened.

“No. I uh. I’m here to apologize.” She seems uncomfortable as she looks around your house. Here eyes settling on one of Joel’s jackets that you haven’t given back yet.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you and…I didn’t mean it.”

“Ellie,” You say softly. Yes her words hurt but she’s just a kid.

“Joel means a lot to you and I get why you felt that I was, stepping into somewhere I didn’t belong.”

“But you do belong!” She says quickly. "You make him happy." You can tell she’s really trying and it makes you feel better about it all.

“I think we should start over, really get to know each other.” You offer knowing that things can’t become perfect overnight but the two of you can try.

“I’d like that.” Hesitantly you squeeze her shoulder in a loving way, hoping that you aren’t overstepping.

“Well now that we’re friends, I know a guy who’s been a real dick since you left.” You laugh and she does too. It’s a nice sound.

“I’ll take care of that, you alright to walk home?” She nods and you lead her to the door.

Ellie stops for a second before smiling back at you. As she walks off the dread of the last few weeks seems to have lifted. You don’t know what happened but you’re glad it did.

Wasting no time, you hurry to the barns, knowing Joel feeds the sheep on Wednesdays. He’s sitting by the pasture. Watching them with a peaceful look on his face.

“Joel.” You say breathlessly. His head whips around, eyes wide in shock.

“What’re you doin here?” He stands and walks over to you. His arms wrapping around your waist as if nothing had ever happened.

“Ellie came over and we talked, she told me that you’ve been miserable without me.” Placing your hands on his chest you lean closer into his arms. You missed being held by him so much.

“Did she now? Tell you anything else?” He asks.

Shaking your head you gently cup his face and pull him in for a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, chasing that feeling he’s missed for weeks. 

“Missed you so much.” He mumbles against your lips. His soft brown eyes staring deep into your own.

“Come over tonight,” and never leave. That house of his is too big for two people anyways.

“I’d love to.” His arms don’t budge as the sheep baa loudly, wanting to make up for lost time.

“Need to introduce the two of you properly. Have some family bonding time.”

“Am I family now?” You ask teasingly, though your heart leaps at the idea. You’d love to be considered so important to Joel.

“No doubt about it baby,” He kisses your forehead gently. Sometimes things change and people come and go, but there’s no way in hell Joel’s ever going to let his little family go.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x you #joel miller angst

[blue-babygirl]

The Stolen Donut

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Innocent!BAU!Reader

Type: Fluff

Description: You didn't know that Spencer doesn't like sharing his sweets nor did you know that they were his donuts. Oh well.

Warnings: Mentions of food.

Note: y/f/f = your favorite flavor

Everyone in the BAU knows not to touch Spencer’s sweets. Ever. Let alone eat them. At least that’s what they all think. Y/n has heard word spread around the bullpen when Spencer brings sweets to the office with a warning tone but never really heard the warning in them.

I mean, why would people gossip about someone’s food? That doesn’t even make sense.

So, when you see a box of donuts with a couple of your favorite flavors, you don’t hesitate too long before taking one, only waiting a couple seconds to consider that the person that the box belongs to won’t miss a donut all that much when they still have five more.

Leaving a couple two-dollar bills where the donut in your hand previously was, you wait for your coffee while savoring the donut that you had been craving for the past week but weren’t able to get until just now.

Two minutes later as you were getting your coffee ready after finishing off the donut, Spencer walks in with his own cup. You silently offer him the pot with a smile, receiving a grateful smile in return. With that, you go back to your desk next to Emily.

“Who ate my donut?” A voice booms across the bullpen, making everyone look at the entrance of the breakroom. There stands Spencer with his eyes set on you and the box of donuts, the one which you had stolen one from, in his hands.

Everyone is quick to deny even touching the box, making Spencer stride across the bullpen to your desk. He narrows his eyes at you, making you nervous, but you make sure not to show it. Instead, all he finds is the surprise written across your face.

Truth is, you are surprised. You didn’t think that Spencer Reid, the nerd, the sweetest guy in the BAU, the one that rarely ever raised his voice and usually at unsubs or people that deserved it, your crush, and apparently the owner of the box of donuts, would be this mad at having lost a donut. In that moment, you decide that you don’t want to find out what would happen if he were to know that you ate his donut.

“Was it you? Did you eat the donut? My favorite y/f/f donut?” Spencer stands tall in front of your chair, and you feel intimidated at the difference in your heights in that setting.

“Nope. I didn’t even know you brought donuts.” You shrug nonchalantly before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Just so you know, I’m not the one who ate it alright! I learned my lesson last time!” Emily defends herself from behind you when Spencer turns to look at her after your denial.

Spencer huffs before practically stomping to his desk, clearly still mad about the stolen donut. You hear him mumble how that was his favorite flavor with a pout as he sits at his desk, making you feel bad.

Now you know why word usually spreads so fast whenever Spencer brings sweets to the office. You feel bad for having stolen the treat and then lying to him for the rest of the day before deciding that you will just get him a couple more of the same as an apology.

The next day you are the first one at the office with a box of two of your, and apparently Spencer’s, favorite flavor of donut in one hand and a half-eaten donut in another. You stop at your desk to quickly draft a cute note saying that you were sorry and that the treat was to make up for the stolen donut.

Leaving the box with the note addressed to Spencer in the fridge felt safe considering how scared most people are of touching his sweets. Once done, you get the coffee pot started and get to work.

When Spencer steps foot into the bullpen, most of the team is already here along with a lot of other people so you are sure that he is not going to know that you are the one what left the donuts in the fridge. But you still get a bit worried when you see Spencer storm off to Penny’s office with the donuts. To say you are nervous for what might be about to happen when he gets back is an understatement. So, the relief you feel when the two of them come out together, talking happily with Spencer eating one of the donuts, is pretty immense.

You gather your things to get to the round table as Penny calls everyone in for the briefing. You are still unsure if Spencer knows that you are the culprit or not but with how happy he looks, you don’t feel too worried. But that doesn’t last long as he calls your name after the quick briefing for your next case as everyone left the room to meet at the jet.

“What’s up?” You make sure not to let your nerves show in your voice. You fail.

“You know,” Spencer smiles as he comes closer to you and you realize what they mean when they say their knees went weak in those books, “you could have just asked for a donut Y/n. I wouldn’t say no to you.”

“Um... I’m sorry! I didn’t know they were yours! I just-” You stop when you hear him chuckle, making you pout slightly.

“Y/n, I like you and I don’t mind sharing my sweets with you. But that’s the extent of it, only you are allowed to have my sweets, okay?” Spencer grins as your cheeks turn crimson.

“Y-you like m-me? Like… like-like?” You ask him with wide eyes, not quite believing that your crush, who had been really mad yesterday, was confessing to not only liking you but also that he didn’t mind sharing his sweets with you.

“Yes, I like-like you. And I was hoping that you like-like me too. So, how do you feel about going to a cake-testing event with me?” Spencer leans against the table, rubbing the back of his neck as he slightly blushes.

“As a date?” Your eyes go even wider as if that was possible as he nods. “I would love to! Oh my god, yes yes yes!!” I jump forward and hug him without thinking, pulling back when you realize what you are doing. “W-we should pr-probably get going. Before everyone leaves.”

Spencer agrees as you make your way to the door with flaming red cheeks only to be greeted by the rest of the team outside the door, grinning at you, making you both blush even more if that was even possible.

“My man’s finally got game!” Derek laughs as he pats Spencer’s back.

The girls surround you, congratulating you and announcing a mandatory team night out after your date with Spence. Dave and Hotch congratulate you and Spencer before heading the team to get to the airport.

It’s safe to say that you came back with a boyfriend from your case.

#fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

[junghelioseok]

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

[tyrantisterror]

A Dozen Or So Great Vampire Ladies

Ok, so, on a mostly unrelated post the topic of good vampire ladies came up, and @bisexualdaikaiju suggested/challenged me to do a top 10 vampire women list. As a self-professed lover of vampire women, it felt like a challenge I couldn't back down from. But it is kind of challenging, for two kind of contradictory reasons.

First, while there are MANY female vampires in fiction, most of them feel like afterthoughts, getting far less characterization than their male counterparts, who more often than not are the star villains of the show. When these supporting lady vampires do get something to do, it's generally the same role: make their human lovers sad when they rise from the dead as a monster that has to be killed, an emotional beat that is often undercut by a lot of these vampire women not getting much characterization to endear them to us before they died. Everyone wants to have the Lucy Westerna plot beat from Dracula but they don't want to do the work that Bram did to make Lucy lovable. The lady vamps who get to step out of Lucy's shadow are rare - but that just makes them all the more wonderful.

The second problem is that, since this is an obsession of mine that few seem to share (there are lots of vampire fans, but man do the boy vamps get to hog the spotlight among them), I've done a lot of scattered thinking about it and I just know I'm bound to forget at least one excellent lady vampire character that should be here. And whittling it down to ten, and trying to rank them? That's too hard! My thoughts are too mercurial to do that reliably in a way I don't forget!

So instead here's a list of, like, a dozen or so lady vampires that I think are just fucking stellar, many of which I think break the mold of what pop culture makes us expect lady vampires to be. It is not ranked - I love all these characters more or less equally, and think it's a lot more interesting to see how they take their archetype in different directions than to figure out which one is "best" of the lot.

Carmilla Karnstein

I'm going to start with the most famous literary female vampire, Mircalla Karnstein from Carmilla. I think she might be the first vampire to have an unhealthy obsession with using anagrams of her real name as aliases, though I'm sure now that I've typed that someone will find an earlier example to school me. She's also the one who popularized the idea of lady vampires being extremely sapphic, with an arguably genuine romantic affection for her female victims. She's got well-deserved clout, basically, and like Dracula has been adapted countless times and reinterpreted in some excellent ways. My favorite screen Carmilla is Ingrid Pitt's take, which captures her fierceness, passion, and tragic nature so well.

2. Amy from Fright Night

Ok, we're having one Lucy Westerna knockoff on this list, but as Lucy knockoffs go, Amy is one of the best. It actually helps that she spends 90% of her movie as a human, because we get to know and love her so much before she turns monstrous. And once she does...

It is pants-shittingly terrifying. I will never stop raving about the vampire designs in this movie - they made their "game faces" so fucking monstrous and I feel like in a better world this would be the standard ever since, especially since they still gave the vampires pathos while making them so ghastly when they've got their feeding faces on.

3. Drusilla

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a bunch of vampire characters, and to its credit they did a decent job of making the ladies just as distinct as the gents. Harmony and Darla could both have made this list, but my favorite was always Drusilla, who was so traumatized before she became a vampire that it kind of overwhelms the demon spirit inside her. Like, bare minimum thing to make a lady vampire more interesting than 90% of other female vampires in fiction: give her at least one personality trait, preferably an interesting one, outside of being a vampire. Drusilla's fun, and she survives the entire series after dumping her boyfriend to be a single female vampire. Good for her.

4. Ruby from Scary Godmother

Ok look I am a fake Scary Godmother fan but kudos to the artist of the books for making a lady vampire who's very clearly of the nosferatu mold and is also explicitly benign and sweet. A+ vampire lady character design. I hope it doesn't awaken anything in me.

5. Nadja

What We Do in the Shadows is excellent at finding new takes on vampires in general - it even made me actually like Psychic Vampires as a concept, a feat I thought was impossible - but goddamn do I love Nadja specifically. She's got a distinct personality as vampire ladies go, being very confident and self-assured while also being a complete fucking goober (it is a comedy, after all). She's perfectly capable of being terrifying AND hilarious, often at the same time. A vampire girl failure, in the parlance of our site. I love her.

6. Lady Dimitrescu

I know that she's apparently only in a fourth of the game, but it's still pretty great that Resident Evil 8 decided its mascot villain - its equivalent of the Tyrant, G, Nemesis, etc. - would be the hottest woman I've ever seen a milf an 8 foot tall lady vampire. She's not dainty and willowy like most lady vamps in fiction - not an ambush hunter - but rather HUGE and capable of tossing a human around like a rag doll. She's a physical powerhouse and she looks fine feminine while doing it. Despite being an unabashed blood-sucking monster, she still has enough depth and complexity to have important relationships (like a genuine love for her "giant mass of hive mind flies" daughters), and also she gets to have an awesome transformation into a fungal vampire dragon, which is rad as hell. Also goddamn, her fashion sense is immaculate.

7. Hecate from Hellboy

"Hey, she's not a vampire! She's a goddess! That doesn't count!" Fuck you, my list, my rules. Hecate posits herself as the progenitor and mother of vampires, she drinks blood, and her main form in the comic is as a sicknasty lamia version of the iron maiden used by Elizabeth fucking Bathory, if she doesn't count as a vampire, nothing should. She is the concept of a vampire amped up to maximum capacity, a major mythological figure and an awesome villain.

...also I lowkey shipped her and Hellboy when I was a teenager. They could have made it work!

8 - 12. Carmilla and her girl squad from Castlevania

I suppose I could have counted Castlevania's Carmilla as an adaptation of Miss Karnstein - they're both basted out of Styria, both sapphic, and it's clear she's meant to be an adaptation of the former, just as the Dracula of this show is meant to be a take on Bram's famous vampire. But ultimately they're VERY different characters in the grand scheme of things - Castlevania's Carmilla has none of the tenderness and vulnerability of her literary counterpart, instead being full of barely restrained fury. She is an excellent villain, complex enough to be interesting but thoroughly despicable enough to make it VERY satisfying when she bites it.

I also love her girl posse... in concept, at least. They've all got great designs and the groundwork of interesting characters, but of the the three, only Lenore, the waifish redhead, gets to do much of note. The two on the edges kind of just show up for a few scenes and then bail before the plot catches up to them, doing very little of note - though at least the big hunky one gets one of the coolest fight scenes in the whole show.

Back to Lenore though - she gets a really nice character arc, and manages to become one of the few sympathetic vampires in the series (while still doing a lot of monstrous shit - she is not a defanged vampire by any stretch). I think her death scene is one of the most moving moments in the series finale.

13. Seras Victoria

A good female vampire has at least one non-vampire part of her personality, right? Ok, so, Seras is:

the muscle in almost every scene she is, which is to say, the one absolutely beating the shit out of people while her allies run for cover

the perky henchman/morality pet of one of history's greatest monsters

the sole ray of sunshine in cast of edgy, cigar-chomping grizzled mercnaries and antiheroes she's been pressganged into fighting alongside

the victim of some HIDEOUS trauma even before her vampirization

the protege of a wise master who gets a full hero's journey arc, taking up his mantle at the end of the series

Like, I love her. She's the secret protagonist of Hellsing. She's got layers like an onion. The scene where she killed Zora Blitz reminded me why I love anime.

(yeah it's the TFS version fuck you)

14. Youko Shiragami

My Monster Secret is not a horror manga. It is a romantic comedy about a bunch of idiots trying to keep painfully obvious secrets hidden and succeeding only because almost everyone around them is as dumb as they are, just in very different ways. It is a manga where an entire chapter can be summarized as "all the characters race to get the last McRib, using their various supernatural abilities to try and cheat their way to the front of the pack." It is one of the funniest and most heart-warming stories I have ever read, one of my favorite romances of all time, and an excellent piece of long form story-telling.

One of the two main characters is Youko Shiragami, a vampire girl who can't let anyone know she's a vampire or else her dad will pull her out of school. She desperately wants to have a normal life with friends and, like, school shenanigans, but her fear of people uncovering her secret and hating her is so immense that she's been isolating herself from everyone, accidentally torturing herself by being close to what she wants but unable to actually have it.

At least, until Kuromine, the other main character of the story, discovers her secret while trying to ask her out on a date. He ends up promising to keep her secret, and the two of them form a real friendship that blossoms into a very sweet romance, where Youko gets to display all her incongruous personality traits that go against what you'd expect of vampires - namely, that she's kind of a ditz, with an unrefined style of speech and a complete inability to be suave and seductive. She's a sweet, flaky goofball with a big heart, who just happens to drink blood and tan really quickly in the sunlight. There is no other vampire like her, and the world is richer for her being in it.

15. Marceline, the Vampire Queen

This list isn't ranked, but if it was, I'd put Marceline at the top. I think she is not only the most unique and deeply characterized lady vampire in fiction, but ranks right up there with Dracula in how she redefines the idea of what a vampire can be. Like, look at the forms she takes!

There are DOZENS of different monstrous shapes Marceline takes during Adventure Time's 9+ seasons of television, and any one of them would be a superb and memorable vampire on its own. And she's ALL of them. Just on a design standpoint, she is a standout. I think only Dracula himself could compete.

But she also explores what the concept of what a vampire is in ways no other vampire in fiction can, in part because of the unique nature of Adventure Time's setting. In a world where humans are an extreme minority and most people are weird monsters, a vampire isn't that odd, so we get to explore what being a vampire means divorced from the comparison to "normal" human beings. There's the expected tragedy to Marceline, of course - she's a 16 year old who has been stuck in that adolescent state for hundreds of years, and much of her character arc over the show (including the magnificent vampire-centric storyline, "Stakes") focuses on the horror of being stuck in that transitional state, not quite a child but not quite an adult. Marceline struggles to mature, to understand herself and others, and her vampirism both keeps her distant from reaching those goals but also gives her a lot of time to figure out how to approach them when the opportunity arirves. Marceline goes from one of the most immature and selfish characters in the show to perhaps the most emotionally intelligent, blossoming into a sensitive and thoughtful person she could never have been without first becoming a creature that seems so inherently opposed to ever having those traits.

And she did it all in a children's show where she was rarely if ever allowed to actually drink blood - a problem the writers got around by having her suck the red color out of things, which is right up there with the Joker Venom from BTAS in terms of genius ideas spawned by children's show censorship.

Marceline is the GOAT.

#Vampire Ladies #Youtube

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fluff #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand fic #fanfiction #writing #a little hurt/comfort for my other depressed bitches

[eoieopda]

problem | myg

pairing: min yoongi x darksided!reader summary: yoongi’s got a problem, and she’s dressed like elvira hancock. type: drabble, suggestive fluff (?) au: darksided; halloween; established relationship rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) word count: 1k cw: yoongi’s on his tony montana, more money/more problem shit shit; afab!reader dressed as female character (elvira hancock); no smut but definitely suggestive thoughts/statements; kissin’, gropin’, nibblin’. a/n: happy halloween! i didn’t plan this, lmao. this is partly to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the darksided series. you don’t need to have read the series to read this drabble, but context is fun 😌

For the past eight years, Halloween has been spent on the couch, eating candy straight out of a party-sized bag and watching movies. A low-key holiday for low-key people, both of whom prefer going to bed at a reasonable hour over getting stupid into the wee hours of the morning. 

It’s been your favorite holiday for the better part of a decade for that reason — the lack of pressure and commotion, as well as the guarantee of quality time spent in the comfort of sweatpants. It’s nice, doing fuck all with the person you love doing nothing and everything with. Nobody has ever caught you complaining; and they never will.

This year, to your shock and awe, Yoongi bucked your expectations for the millionth consecutive time. Not only did he RSVP “yes” to a Halloween party, he decided that you would both attend in costume.

Apparently, one of the multitudes he contains kind of likes the idea of coordinating outfits with you.

You damn near fell over when he brought his idea to you in the first place; but now that he’s kneeling in front of you, dressed in a white suit and a torturously unbuttoned red button-up, you’re struggling to stay upright for an entirely different reason.

“Left foot,” he murmurs, gesturing to one of the legs you have dangling off the edge of the bed.

You oblige, resting your bare foot on his thigh. Silently, you watch while he slips your heel onto your foot, lips pursed in concentration as he deals with the tiny buckle on the ankle strap.

It shouldn’t fuck you up to see his fingers moving deftly, doing something this mundane, but it does. 

Makes you want to blow off this party and spend the night with those hands instead.

God. 

Those hands.

Their gentle grip on your ankle, the glint of his rings in the lamplight, the slender length of —

“Jagiya.”

Yoongi is smiling slightly when his words nudge you back to reality with a jolt. If that smirk tells you anything, it’s that he’s called out to you at least once before. All you do is squeak in response; your brain is a bit too scrambled to think of better.

And he knows it, too.

Bastard.

Slowly, he shifts your heel off his thigh. To emphasize his instruction, he taps your right ankle lightly. “Right foot, jagi.” 

You’re boneless but acquiesce, nonetheless. 

Then, he has the audacity to say, “Good girl,” with his fingertips brushing softly over your bare skin, and you may as well black the fuck out. No part of the moments that follow registers in your mind; you may as well have lost it.

When Yoongi demands your attention the second time, he doesn’t bother with pet names. He leans slightly forward to where the high slit of your dress leaves a knee exposed, presses a kiss to the piece of you on display, and keeps his lips there just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“All set,” he says innocently, as if there’s anything angelic about the way he’s looking at you.

Dark eyes match the dark hair he’s pushed back off his forehead, and there’s a wickedness to them that you’ve never successfully ignored — not once in eight years.

“Ready to go?”

You make some unintelligible noise in response that you can’t parse yourself. Just like always, Yoongi manages to find the meaning you’re unable to locate; and he pushes himself to his feet. Two hands extend to help you do the same, and — just like always — you take them, no hesitation.

When you stand on unsteady legs, teal silk slips down the length of you and falls back into place with a flourish, fanning out at your ankles. Yoongi pauses, drinks in the sight of you like he’s drowning. He hums appreciatively to himself before reaching up to brush synthetic, blonde hair off your cheek.

“We’re running late,” he eventually notes. 

Neither of you makes a single move towards the door. It’s only his arm that moves, hand dropping from your face to skim over the fabric covering your waist, hugging the curve of it. You shiver, although it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the way your dress is cut.

“Michelle Pfeiffer’s got nothing on you.”

You swallow hard, going tense all over.

An hour passes in a second.

“Have I told you that I love this dress?”

You’re crawling out of your skin, vibrating on a frequency only Yoongi can hear. Fuck this dress, fuck this party, fuck me. Even though you don’t verbalize any of it, you know that he knows.

His eyes flick down your frame like he’s weighing what he wants against what he’s obligated to. Like he’s starving, and he’s searching for permission to sate his appetite.

There’s no weight to your voice when you say, “So, take it off,” but it hits him heavy. You feel the force of it when his hands grip your ass and pull you close. Chest to chest, it’s present in your heartbeat, too; thudding violently with anticipation.

He repeats himself, voice low, “We’re running late.”

But his actions tell you that he doesn’t give a shit about the clock. His mouth finds the skin beneath your jaw, and the heat of his breath warms your neck in the seconds before his lips do. At first, it’s just a kiss. 

Then, it’s a whisper.

“Really late.”

Then, it’s the faint graze of his teeth when he nips at you, followed by the flick of his tongue, eager to soothe the sting.

“We can be later,” he muses on an exhale, as if either of you needs to be convinced. His grip on your ass tightens just enough to pull a whimper out of you. “What do you think, Elvira?”

Your brain has liquified with the rest of you, but you summon the strength to run your fingertips along the edges of his lapel. “Tony,” you start with a sigh.

“Hmm?” He hums, mouth too busy to form words.

You grip those lapels and push him slightly backwards, interrupting his ministrations in order to look him dead in the eyes. Loving the challenge, he smirks back at you with one eyebrow arched expectantly.

“One of us’ll die if you don’t kiss me for real, and it won’t necessarily be me.”

Just like always, Yoongi only needs to be told once.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

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#min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #myg #jade writes #re: darksided #kvanity

[anantaru]

so guys 🙋🏻‍♀️🌸 i have finished the entire new quest at last and omg 👼🏼 like this was outstanding!! you see, what i really enjoy about star rail is that it gives me similar vibes to hi3 in terms of the darkness in the plot, since hi3 is my favorite hoyo game i always love seeing stuff from it or just similar instances. SO YOU KNOW FOR A FACT I WAS SO HYPED WHEN ACHERON SHOWED UP 🤺 especially with the hi3 story with kiana as the mc being over and although i still love hi3 the most, kiana, mei and bronya, that trio, they were all the best characters together AAAARGHHH I SWEAR AND JUST THE ENTIRE STORY LINE WAS SOOO GOOD, I miss them all together as a trio and especially kiana, the best hoyo MC FOR LIFE. 🙋🏻‍♀️🩷

also 🤠 ^^ that frame with sunday and dr ratio like 😙😙 WAS SO FUNNY I HAD TO SS IT. 🤺

the amount of cutscenes we got to see again was so fun, it felt like watching a movie slowly unfold while you got to be a part of it 🩷 you can tell that hoyoverse gets better and better with each update on whatever game and that the cutscenes are always so well done (i always liked them but the constant upgrades ??? insane) 🙏🏻

+ the acheron one shotting aventurine lmao 🧎🏻‍♀️ it was my favorite though ngl HAHA 🙋🏻‍♀️🩷 no matter how much i like aventurine as a character, MEI OMG MEEEIIIIII 👹🩷 SHE WILL FOREVER BE MY LOVE LIKE I KNOW ITS ACHERON BUT YOU GET WHAT I MEAN !!!!! 🙇🏻‍♀️ LIKE THE CUTSCENE WITH HER HORNS OH MY GOOOD THE NOSTALGIA LIKE YES GO OFF SHOW THEM

also guys, idk but aventurine's boss fight, 🤠 i personally expected more like it was so easy to beat ?! I THOUGHT I WOULD STRUGGLE BUT HE DIED PRETTY QUICKLY BUT ITS FINE, I STILL LIKE HIS CHARACTER 🌸🙋🏻‍♀️. + i was happy hoyoverse showed us his backstory and took their time to flash it out and not gloss over it in idk one/two scenes, but they really took their time with it which was amazing 🩷

also jade looks so cool as well! the design is very pretty and i can't wait to see diamond too, or the rest of the ten stonehearts but they're hyping diamond up so much like another emanator?? yes please, i'm all in🧎🏻‍♀️🩷

this entire quest gave me movie vibes, you were on edge the entire time and even during side quests you had to take, it was still very intense. it actually took me quite a bit to finish it of course since i'm someone who doesn't skip dialog, but it was so worth it and the best way to relax after a long day of moving my body 🩷 just laying in bed, playing while drinking tea!!

what i wanted to say too, guys honestly sunday is not okay HAHAHAHAHAHAH 🌝 I MEAN LIKE you guys🧎🏻‍♀️, that shiver in his voice at times and you can tell he low-key doesn't even know how to handle all of that either, of course, for one he looks like everything is accounted for while in the other, he sounds like he's losing his mind and can we blame him ???? when he went "why did you kill her" and lowkey cussed gallagher out i was like damn 🤠 okay 😏 HAHA + i'm somebody that doesn't think too much about theories, instead i love eagerly waiting for the next patch!! so i'm excited for what's coming 🩷 + robin's song slaps.

last but not least 🤺 you see, gallagher wasn't really somebody i was very interested in, but damn the second he turned dangerous and spicy i went oh my oh hey what's up ?? 😏 giggles HAHA LIKE WHAT IS IT ABOUT MEN WHO ARE JUST SUDDENLY EVIL AND IDK MAYBE HE ISNT COMPLETELY RIGHT AAAAAA OOOOO UUUU WWWWW AAAAA but anyways, 🌸 the last cutscene low-key hurt me like what do you mean sunday gets off screened while i was saving up for him for what? 👹 ever since fuxuan like how can you do this to me + no way they're dead dead 🤠because the last conversation aventurine had with acheron was very important to the next patch i'm pretty sure! 🩷

all in all guys!! 🩷 this quest was beautifully done, it had a lot of hard, dark stuff and it reminded me a lot of hi3, that's why i give it a 10/10, very well done. 🌸🩷

#، 𝜗𝜚 —￤ yoru plays [honkai star rail] ⋆ #honkai star rail spoilers #hsr spoilers

[mixelation]

i will also share with u the absurd toxicity (reborn au au (tm)) rpf lore developed with @waffliesinyoface

point one: obito would not be naturally drawn to fandom, but he IS a troll who likes absurd things, and it's important to him to know what's up with the people in his life. he has read the entirety of icha icha (more than once!) for the simple pleasure of sniping kakashi with a well-placed reference. when tori gets fixated on ninja rpf, he also obviously starts reading it so he can have fuel to tease her.

unlike kakashi's brand of obsession (which is PRIVATE, obito, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS), tori's obsessions crave interaction. you want to talk rpf with her? she is going to drag you down into a terrible vortex of rpf fixations

obviously "driven to making insane decisions for petty reasons" tori is obito's favorite tori. he is SO supportive of her ongoing war against the sasori girls.

obvious outcome of point one: obito becomes a kakashi girl

tori is SO supportive of his psychosexual kakashi obsession. she thinks him working through his feelings like this is good for him. also she likes reading fic

obito is not well-liked in kakashi fan circles when he's writing in under a pen name because he keeps writing kakashi as a damsel in distress in constant need of rescuing due to chakra exhaustion. fangirls hate this because kakashi should be cool and badass all of the time???

point two (horrible realization): in this au, obito retains his uchiha pretty privilege. he's also the infamous loose canon of the yellow flash's students. there's ABSOLUTELY insane fic about him

obito's favorite ship is obviously him/kakashi, but NO ONE writes it right???

yes he and tori are dating. no she doesn't care he keeps looking up kakashi/him. she knows what she signed up for.

in fact, tori inspires him!! if tori can go hunt down a random sasori rpf writer to argue with her, OBVIOUSLY he can go have a converastion with some obito writers and gently push them in the right direction!!

but he has to do it cool and mysterious, see, so they get him. he shows up in the dead of night in his super dramatic madara personality. he just wants to talk. he gives a dramatic speech and throws in some killing intent for Effect

obvious outcome of point two: everyone stops writing obito fic because they're terrified.

tori: realizes there's still READERS for obito fic but no writers

tori: that's free real estate

she's converting. she's an obito girl now. (obito: babe that's SO sweet of you)

NO ONE likes her obito fics either because she writes him as a deeply pathetic whackjob who cries during sex. she gets multiple replies that are like "when will obito show up to murder THIS writer"

instead of being normal she's like "FYI he DID show up in my bedroom but that won't stop me because I AM NOT A COWARD"

third, miscellaneous point: obito is shunned by fandom when he's a faceless person writing in. at in person meet-ups, people love him despite his rancid opinions because he is hot. :'(

tori: PUT THE MASK BACK ON I HATE THIS

obito in kakashi cosplay??? with kakashi's real clothes he stole???

i thought about writing a joke about them going to an in-person fic exchange and people not realizing they're together to mirror the ANBU Party Debacle. however i do not think this is the mood for Torito because they cannot physically resist bothering each other for more than 90 seconds at a time. obito shows up holding her hand so he can swing their arms like literal children. if he doesn't pay attention to her for long enough, tori WILL tug his hair/loose clothing/etc. he attempts to sit in her lap at least twice. they're both super into the other person's rancid headcanons. they are so fucking obnoxious

no one ever matches obito-in-person with obito-showing-up-to-harass-fic-writers because of the insanely different personalities

people are okay with obito in person despite his personality because he is. hot. and a man. and they're a group of mostly women who are attracted to men. do you see? but they still fucking hate tori

a rumor starts that the reason tori can write bonkers obito fic without him murdering her is that when he showed up to threaten her over it, she slept with him. so not only is she annoying, but she cheated on her hot boyfriend (obito) with famous ninja uchiha obito! she doesn't deserve either of them!!!

(obito: that's exactly what happened tho. i gave you my super cool and scary "write better fanfic" speech and you slept with me. <3 / tori, who will never EVER admit she found his stupid "madara" personality kind of hot: (tea kettle noises))

#reborn au au: it's gotten sillier #the torito content you crave!

[ghoste-catte]

I'm on my hands and knees asking you about your favorite gaalee moments (spin offs count bc why wouldn't they)

Anon ... I'm sorry I took a while to answer this for you, but it's because you activated my trap card. But without further ado ... here are my top 10 GaaLee moments.

(My 10th pick and rationale beneath the cut)

The Drop Kick So, I feel like we don't talk about this kick often enough. Because this is actually the first time anyone draws blood on Gaara (we see the scratch on his face once his head pops back up). As much time as was given in canon to Gaara's reaction to Sasuke drawing his blood, I don't really understand why Lee being the first to cut him wasn't as big a deal.

The Primary Lotus This is ... probably the first time Gaara's been touched hand-to-body in years. I've written a few times (and shout out to @egregiousderp for their hand in this headcanon) about how this was probably the first approximation of a hug that Gaara had since Yashamaru. He replaces himself with a sand clone halfway down, but for the initial drop, that's just Lee holding him.

The Rescue I wasn't able to find my favorite screenshot from this moment, which is the one where Gaara's sand is rushing to save Lee and it kind of looks like a heart, but anyway, I just love this pivot. The fact that Gaara uses the very weapon he used to crush Lee's dreams to save him. The way Lee still tries to be an equal partner in this fight despite his injuries. The "I don't hold a grudge!"

The Talk This moment means a lot to me. It's a deep conversation to have, and it's one that happens on two levels that I think aren't fully addressed by the narrative. Of course, on the surface, they're talking about Kimimaro and Orochimaru, but the subtext goes something like: Gaara: Even if people love me, I'm still a monster. All they would need to do is be desperate and lonely enough, and I might seem like a good choice. Lee: The fact that people love you proves you're not a monster! Obviously Gaara gets the final word in this conversation, but I do like to think it sinks in later on and influences their relationship in the future.

The Walk Home I hate that we only get to see this in flashbacks in filler episodes (although we do get to see it twice from two different perspectives!)

But I love this moment because of the way that Gaara chooses to carry Lee: he slings him over his shoulder with one arm. If you go back and watch Gaara and his siblings returning to Suna after his fight with Naruto, that's exactly the way first Kankuro, and then Temari, carry him when he's wounded.

This moment is during that time where Gaara's still learning how to be a person and not a weapon, and the fact that he chooses to carry Lee with such care … it feels relationship-defining.

6. The Eighth Gate That flashback that Gaara has to Gai and Lee's relationship shows that he's really internalized the defining impact Lee had on his life. The genuine care and concern that he looks at Lee with in that moment despite Lee's stubborn insistence that he won't be sad makes my heart ache for the both of them.

7. The Retreat If you've ever read one of my fics that's set during the war and notice that I mention Gaara carrying Lee around on his sand, this is what I'm talking about. I love that Lee sees the sand as an unequivocal source of safety instead of threat at this point (to the point of entrusting it to carry Gai-sensei in his frail state). And I love that this seems to be Gaara's default way of pulling Lee out of danger ... it's at least the second time he's done it, after all:

8. Gaara-kun! This was one of The Moments for me. We as a ship had been speculating so long about the degree of intimacy of Lee and Gaara's relationship. We'd spent, I think, a decade at this point writing fics where Lee called Gaara "Kazekage-sama". Then the Perfect Day for a Wedding arc dropped, and here's Lee calling Gaara "Gaara-kun" just like he does the rest of his friends ... wind was blown into the ship's sails on this day.

9. The Double Date Gaara and Lee go on a double date with Tenten and Kankuro to Ichiraku Ramen. This is canon. 'Nuff said.

And now, for number 10 ... drumroll please ...

10. The ILY I know, I know - those handsigns don't mean the same in JSL as they do in ASL. But my little hard-of-hearing heart can't help but see Lee shooting double "I love you"s at Gaara in this moment. And even if he's not, the starry eyes and blushy cheeks say it all. This is flirting, y'all.

#answered #Anonymous #naruto #gaalee

[nutzgunray-lvt]

Why I Hate Canon Dadzawa

I'm pretty sure I've said this before multiple times, but Aizawa is my second least favorite character in MHA behind Bakugou and ahead of Shinsou. Most of this is because of his canon actions/how he's written, but a lot of this is due to people INSISTING that Fanon Dadzawa is Canon Dadzawa.

To put out a disclaimer, I don't mind Fanon Dadzawa. There's been some really well written Fanon Dadzawa fics that I like, and I'm of the belief that you can and should write whatever fics you want. I also think that Canon Dadzawa/Aizawa as a whole could have been such an interesting character had he been written better. Instead (like with almost every other character in MHA) we get someone whose actions don't match how he's supposed to come off as.

This topic is a sore spot for me, because the people who got me into MHA tried selling me on Dadzawa, Dadzawa, Dadzawa. I felt so tricked when I first got into it and saw that none of what they were saying was true.

Just like how Bakugou is a Temu version of Vegeta (so insulting to Vegeta) and Sasuke (who is another character I don't really like, but will put well above Bakugou), Aizawa is a SheIn version of Kakashi; a conventionally attractive, badass, no-nonsense teacher who genuinely cares about and is protective of his students. I have my problems with Kakashi, but it's at least been actually shown that he cares for his students, and whenever he does a "Rational Deception", he not only immediately explains himself, but he only ever did them in his introduction. For that matter, he's actually a good friend to Guy.

Aizawa, on the other hand, is a hot mess of a walking, talking contradiction in writing and Character Shilling. We're constantly told that he's this amazing teacher and amazing person, but the evidence doesn't match up with these claims.

He never owns up to his failings, choosing to a) ignore them entirely, b) excuse them away, or c) throw other undeserving people under the bus to make himself look good. We see this in how he halfheartedly acknowledges Ida angrilly calling him out on his repeated lying to 1A, when he excuses away his utter failure in curbing Bakugou's awful behavior with his "deep seated conviction" in bring a hero, and when he tries throwing All Might under the bus when Hound Dog calls them out in exaserbating Izuku's trust issues after the Gentle Criminal fight.

For that matter, he has yet to apologize to Izuku after his realization during the Liberation Front War of how much of jackass he was to him. Seriously, Izuku has saved his ass I don't know how many times, and he continued being such an ungrateful bastard towards him. I'm not saying he should have gotten on his knees and proclaimed his life to him, but you would think that would have at least changed his attitude towards him.

And speaking of Izuku, while he's always on his ass about his Quirk control... he completely ignores the issues that Aoyama and Kaminari have with THEIR Quirks. Kaminari being taken hostage at the USJ due to his lack of Quirk Control goes completely unacknowledged, and Aoyama's lack of Quirk Control is treated solely for comedic value. You'd think Dadzawa: Best UA Teacher would try to help the two of them as well, but nope.

I could go on all day about his expulsion record, but the point is, he's ruining these students' lives due to him projecting his own traumas onto them. I have to reiterate this, but these expulsions DO IN FACT stay on their permanent records. In Japan, having an expulsion on your permanent record CAN AND WILL prevent you from getting a well paying job. Expulsion is treated as an absolute last resort for a reason, and to see him throw that threat around like it's nothing is horrible of him. Nedzu is a horribly negligent principal for letting Aizawa do this, and the fact that nobody has sued UA for this is a miracle.

Then we get to his favoritism of Bakugou and Shinsou, probably the biggest indicator of his hypocrisy.

It makes absolutely NO SENSE that Aizawa's presented as this strict hardass of a teacher, and then he's shown giving preferental treatment to an abusive egoist (that was canonically how Bakugou was described in his character profile) and a whiny, Quirkist Troll doll that's not even in the Heroics Course. This is especially egrigious considering how often he bitches and moans about All Might mentoring Izuku! He sticks his neck out for Bakugou when he absolutely doesn't deserve it and when you know for a fact he wouldn't do this for his other students.

For that matter, he's such an awful friend to Mic and Midnight. His relationship with both of them is all take and no give. Mic canonically surpressed his own grief and trauma surrounding Oboro and Midnight's deaths for Aizawa's sake, and while it was wrong of Midnight to throw Aizawa's name into the teacher's ring behind his back, he repays her trying to get him a job by doing all the above I just listed. His relationship with them is unhealthy as hell, especially since they NEVER take him to task for his awful behavior.

On top of all of THAT, he genuinely thinks he's this amazing teacher and person, given how angry he gets at Mic for calling him a terrible teacher during the Sports Festival. He calls Vlad King a better teacher than him... but doesn't do ANYTHING to change his ways. You can't have it both ways, Aizawa.

In conclusion, Aizawa would have been such an interesting character had he been allowed to examine and change his attitude and teachings. Instead, we get someone who unfairly has a reputation of being a paragon of goodness and rationality.

#anti shota aizawa #anti aizawa shota #anti dadzawa #present mic deserves better #class 1a deserves better #anti katsuki bakugou #anti shinsou hitoshi #izuku deserves better #midnight deserves better #mha critical #horikoshi critical #bnha critical

[blooming-violets]

just finished five minutes. what other angsty goodness do you have to offer?!

Something Unforgivable

Peter cheats on his depressed, grieving girlfriend and feels like shit about it (as he should!!) and then part three randomly turns into a sex trafficking ring and murder fest story to spice things up.

Dancing On My Own (and the sequel)

People literally despise the fuck out of Peter in this fic. I seemed to have managed to make a typically beloved babyboy the most hated character. Then I tried to redeem him a bit but only made it worse and made people hate him more...but it's angsty af. And I personally think the ending fits their characters perfectly and makes total sense based on how I wrote them/their trauma/backstory buuuut it doesn't make people happy! ANGST

Nicest Thing

Honestly, this fic was written way before Dancing On My Own but they sort of have very similar vibes and I used a lot of inspo from this one to write DOMO. Like they could be the same Reader character person just in a slightly alternate universe. Peter's bff who's in love with him but he loves Gwen and then she dies and he's depressed and his friend tries to help him but it's hard to help grieving angry people.

Pinky Promise

there's children trying to jump off buildings and terrible fathers and attacks on nyc and two sad people just trying to find love in the midst of it all

Imminent

you see the future and that future shows Peter Parker's death. This is one of my favorite things I've done and I don't even think it's written that well but I think it's a unique concept and therefore it's my fav

Creature Like Me

This is my pride and joy. It's my baby. This is the most "I'm writing for me and only me" story I've ever done. It's just me pumping out chapters and like three people reading and cheering me on. And I have genuinely loved every single second. I. Fucking. Love. This. Story. So. Damn. Much.

Don't

This is short. Peter's an asshole during a fight. I like it because Reader stands up for herself and draws some boundaries. Don't let men treat you like shit. That's the message.

Are You Real?

Someone asked to me write fluff but I didn't see that so I defaulted to angst instead. A touch starved reader in a long distance relationship with Peter.

Touch Starved

Another touched starved but it's Peter who's in need of love.

From my Hurt/Comfort Bingo (that I should get back to completing some day): Caring for Reader's Wounds After Fight (home break in), Look At Me (stuck in an armed robbery), Car Accident (title speaks for itself, ended up as a 3 part mini series), Bring Your Kids to Work Day (reader is stuck in a fire with two kids and no way out)

Smut with Angst elements:

Cheating With Peter

Your marriage sucks, you're in love with Peter, all he seems to want is sex from you though and nothing more so you give it to him bc at least it means you'll be his in some sad pathetic way

In The Dark

Depressed reader needs Peter's help to find her way out of the darkness of her mind (through anal sex, apparently)

Ok that should be more than enough to keep you satisfied.

#asks #andrew garfield #andrew garfield fic #peter parker #peter parker fic #tasm #tasm x reader #peter parter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic

[dvzaiosamu]

a short drabble about a soft moment with you and osamu dazai drinking coffee.

no warnings ahead, I hope you guys enjoy this really short drabble.

Today has certainly been an interesting day in its own way. Today, a warm summer in Yokohama, Japan, you had planned to drink coffee like every day, only today you would make a small change in the type of coffee.

You had just gotten out of bed, wearing a thin (favorite color) dress that gave you the coolness you needed in such hot months in the second largest city in Japan. While you were posing in front of the mirror, combing and enhancing your hair to make it look more aesthetic, a familiar person was present next to you, hugging you by your hips while letting his head rest on your shoulder, it was no one other than Dazai who wanted to spend time with you, taking advantage of the fact that the day was free 'according to him', you weren't entirely sure if he simply lied to you or if the president really gave you a day off for today.

"You look beautiful as always, belladonna..." He whispers next to your ear, with a voice full of softness.

"My, my, you flatter me so much, Dazai," you mutter back.

"Perhaps..." He trails off, smiling. "Come on, are you going to come down and have coffee with me?"

"Alright, alright, let's go, Osamu," you rolled your eyes in an amused way and took his hands off your hips, so you could get away from there, preferably to make yourself a coffee.

The young man laughs lightly and follows you like a puppy to the floor below, where your modest dining room is located next to a window with small views of a flower garden that you have. When you go to the coffee machine to make yourself a coffee, you remember that today you wanted to try something new. So instead of drinking your usual coffee, you decided to try an American coffee, the bitter ones.

"I notice that there is a new change," he comments, looking over his shoulder at the option you chose in the coffee maker. A smile appears on his lips.

"I just wanted a new change, that's all."

"I see..."

When the sound of the coffee maker finally stops, the two cups of coffee are taken out by your hand and directed towards the table. As you place them, Osamu soon sits down and adds a sugar cube, while you leave it simple.

"Hey, belladonna. Have you ever seen yourself with as much splendor, elegance and beauty as I see you with?" Suddenly he comments.

"I'm not sure, for that you would have to lend me your eyes," you respond, with a wearable smile, your lips resting on the ceramic, taking a sip.

"Right!" He exclaims with a wide smile, his eyes shining slightly. "You are very beautiful."

When you least expect it, he tenderly takes your hand and plants a romantic kiss on you, with a seductive and poetic look. "And you're mine".

#bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #osamu x reader

[stellar-constellations]

"You haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!”

        Very curious! Low ranked demon! GN! (Y/N) x Aizetsu.

        (Y/N) has absolutely no memory of their human life.

        Chōrō is an original OC for plot purposes!

        (Y/N) eats human food to gain energy!

        (Y/N) has her own original breathing but it doesn't go into detail!

        (Y/N)'s demon life is similar to one for one of my Demon Slayer OC's (that I may or may not add onto Tumblr one day; still deciding).

        It must’ve been a few months since I’ve been a demon. I don’t know much about my human life, but I was once a demon slayer who killed demons. I was a tsuchinoe with much to learn, but I created my own breathing; Celestial Breathing.

        I was a stubborn and honest person. I followed what I believed was right and I did my best to help others, even if it didn’t always work out—at least, that’s what my human friends say.

        I visit this old lady, Chōrō, often. She gives me human food since it replenishes my energy instead of blood. My human friends are demon slayers, but they won’t kill me. I’m a exception to the slayer corps, just like my little demon friend Nezuko is. 

        I hide in big trees and warehouses in the day, but I usually go to Chōrō; she is very kind and lets me hide in her house. 

        I am a demon with no rank, a demon that could easily be killed if wanted since I have no name or significant importance. I help give the best information I can about That Man and the Uppermoons to the demon slayers, but once I no longer have connections with them, I am of no use.

        Death doesn’t bother me—I would enjoy it. I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t like having to hide from the sun, fight other demons, run from the humans, find a way to get money, or avoid the pretty glowing purple trees. But I don’t want to submit easily—it’d be insulting. 

        I don’t have any important relation with the Demon King. The last time I saw him, I was in the infinity castle, but I don’t know why. He explained what I was and what I had to do, then set me free in the world. I'm certain he was the one that turned me, but I'm unsure why.

        So far, I have run into three Upper Moons; one, two, and three. I don’t like Upper Moon One—he gave me a surprise test and was very mean to me, saying that I was a imposter and had no use, so I dislike him very much. 

        The second Upper Moon is very… special. He’s weirdly animated, loud, and a bit annoying, but I am on better terms with him then with Upper Moon One. He helps me train, honing my swordsmanship skills and Blood Demon Art (which appears to be my Celestial Breathing). 

        I only saw Upper Moon Three once, but he seems like a very irritable person, and I have a problem with people who like to berate me.

        I really like the animals in the world. I think my favorite is the wolf. They’re a little mean to me, but they don’t attack me, they just growl at me. However, sometimes when I stay very still and avoid eye contact, they will come over and sniff me. I will carefully hold a finger out and they’ll allow me to pet their muzzle. Sometimes they bite my fingers, but I understand they're just scared of me like how I am of humans.

        I also really like pandas. Pandas are fluffy and big. I can lay down on them. I really like to hold bamboo up and feed them. I ate the bamboo once—it wasn’t good. I don’t understand why the pandas like them but it’s okay because they’re cute and it leaves more for them to eat.

        Yes, I like pandas. I like to lay on them too. I’m laying on one now! His name is Boo. I probably won’t ever see him again, but I enjoy his company, and he doesn’t seem to mind mine, so we’re friends. 

        I was laying on his stomach as he ate a stick of bamboo, grabbing another stick nearby and waiting for him to finish his food, then holding it out in front of him.

        “Do you want more?” I questioned.

        He made a funny noise. I don’t speak panda. I assume it was a yes because he took the stick and starting chewing on it. 

        “You’re feeding the panda?” a voice questioned in front of me. 

        I tilted my head back to it’s original position, seeing a demon in front of me. It wore a blue stash, having coco skin and very pretty blue eyes. It had horns sticking out of its hair that was messy and black. It was also worth noting he had this purple vein-like pattern on his forehead. They looked and sounded like a guy; he was cute, but he looked sad.

        “I am! His name is Boo. Would you like to feed him with me?” I questioned, grabbing a stick of bamboo, offering the bamboo to the demon.

        “No thanks…” the demon spoke, his face remained a frown as he looked at me.

        “Boo is very nice, right, Boo?” I questioned, tilting my head backwards to look up and rest my head on his stomach. 

        He made a noise as it took the stick, resuming his meal.

        The demon remained silent, deciding not to talk any further, however he stayed staring at me.

        “Are you okay? You look sad.” I questioned.

        Usually I’m not so kind with demons or people in general, but whenever I see something I like or enjoy—like this panda—a flip is switched in me and I turn almost childish. I’ll regret my actions for this interaction later, but I won’t see this demon again. Besides, at least he’s not trying to fight me.

        “I am sad.” The demon admitted.

        I hummed, thinking. 

        “Would you like to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell anyone. I won’t judge either.” I offered. 

        “No thanks—I don’t think you’d understand.” The demon spoke.

        “I don’t think I’d understand either.” I smiled. “I don’t understand a lot of things around me, but it’s fun to learn. I might not understand you, but I can listen to you. I like it when someone listens to me.” I explained.

        The demon hummed, thinking to himself.

        “Are you a new demon?” he questioned.

        “I am.” I spoke. “I don’t eat humans; I eat human food. I learned that bamboo is not human food.” I informed him. “I suggest not eating the bamboo, it tastes gross, but Boo likes it. I don’t exactly understand Boo...” I spoke, tilting my head up as Boo finished his stalk, making a noise for more.

        “I suppose I could tell you...” The demon sighed, watching as I picked up a nearby bamboo stalk and gave it to Boo. “I am an embodiment of an emotion, so I can only really feel that one emotion. I share a body with six other clones, so they can really upset me sometimes.” The demon explained.

        I nodded, listening intently as I grabbed a bamboo stalk, offering it to him to make him feel better. He shook his head, rejecting the stalk. I shrugged and gave it to Boo.

        “I feel that I understand. Not in this life, but in my human one.” I explained.

        “You can remember your human life?” the demon questioned, seemingly intrigued despite having that frown on his face.

        “Bits and pieces. I get information from others about me sometimes.” I spoke. “I hope you at least feel a little better with me though.” I smiled, offering him another stalk of bamboo (to which he rejected yet again).

        “I still feel sad.” He sighed.

        “Hm…” I hummed, thinking. “What do you like to do?” I questioned. “I like seeing animals, and seeing my friends, and eating human food—human food tastes really good for me, unlike this bamboo.” I explained, then motioned for him to take the bamboo stick (he ignored it). 

        I don’t understand why he won’t accept the bamboo? The bamboo is currently making me happy since I can feed Boo, and I want to share my happiness with this demon. Oh well…

        “I don’t really like much things… I don’t have the free time to do indulge in hobbies.” He spoke.

        “Why not?” I questioned. 

        “I work for the Demon King.” He explained. 

        I nodded, making a mental note as I scooted closer to him, looking into his eyes. He looked at me, seeming to be uncomfortable as he slightly leaned back as I leaned closer.

        His blue eyes said Upper Moon Four, so he's not lying. 

        “I see.” I acknowledged. “That must suck for you—or not!” I quickly spoke, nervous to offend him. “I mean, I wouldn’t quite enjoy having little free time, but I respect it if that’s what you enjoy.” I smiled, offering him a stalk of bamboo as an apology.

        “I suppose it could be worse.” He hummed, then rejected the bamboo stick.

        I nodded, not seeing the conversation going anywhere else as I crawled back to my spot, leaning back and giving Boo the bamboo instead.

        “We don’t know each other’s names.” I pointed out. 

        “What’s the point of exchanging names? We’ll probably never see each other again. How sad…” he sighed.

        “Then let’s make sure to meet up again, so it's not sad!” I smiled. “I mean, you’re fun to talk to, you haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!” I admitted.

        “Huh… cute…” He muttered, testing it out, as if not believing it.

        “Yeah.” I confirmed, then looked up at the stars. “So, would you uh… like to meet here tomorrow night?” I questioned nervously.

        Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s just a question. I thought to myself.

        The demon hummed, thinking to himself. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt…”

        “Great, it’s settled!” I exclaimed, happy to know I’ve made a friend with a powerful being as I stood up. “My name is (Y/N), it’s been lovely talking to you.”

        “I’m Aizetsu.” The demon, Aizetsu, spoke.

        “Here, have this bamboo stalk. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” I spoke, then realized how stupid that’d be. “Y-you don’t have to keep if it you don’t want…”

        Aizetsu looked down at the stick and me, then finally taking it from my hands.

        “(Y/N)…” he tested the name out, having my full attention. “Thank you for making me feel less sad and…” he paused, then spoke. “I think you’re cute too…” he spoke, the frown remaining on his face, but I didn’t need to see a smile to understand that he also enjoyed our time spent together.

        He walked back into the forest from where he came from, leaving me and Boo alone.

        I immediately whirled around at Boo, excited as I let out a little giggle. “Did you see how cute he was? His eyes were so pretty! And he had such a handsome voice. His personality was so relaxing and adorable!” I gushed, running up to the panda and laying on him. “You agree, don’t you?” I questioned, giving him a stick of bamboo.

        He let out a noise that showed he agreed, as he does with most things I say.

        I like a lot of things in this world. I like the human food, the animals, the clothes, the stars, the old lady Chōrō, and the blue demon named Aizetsu.

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist

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