#if anyone knows how to have a cheap divorce let me know

[youreastargirl]

Just found out that for the past eight years my husband has been secretly deeply unhappy, has gone through stages of being mad at me for years, said he had a two year deep depression triggered by me, and only made it through that by talking to another woman who made him feel like he mattered.

He could never tell me one word about his unhappiness because he said I am so emotionally unstable I would have had a meltdown.

The worst part is this whole time I still treated him as my best friend partner and confidant. I would tell him everything trusted him with all my thoughts and feelings. Like he felt this way about me and I’m just like hey guess what happened in class today. Somehow this casual daily betrayal feels worse than the other woman. I feel like a fucking fool.

#if anyone knows how to have a cheap divorce let me know #of course I would also tell him my deep feelings #we worked through life decisions #job changes #grad school #parenting challenges #went to events together #lived a life together #he said he still loves me #like it’s a consolation prize #but that doesn’t feel like love #he doesn’t want to get divorced because it would upend our lives #and he thinks he’s too old to find a new relationship #I’m not a consolation prize #and I’m not a bad person #and I’m not emotionally unstable #and I don’t deserve this #I’m upending the shit out of our lives #sorry to have personal crisis on main #feel free to scroll past #just had to get it out

[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

[seth-burroughs]

benefits of being yomi kin:

makes me twice as cool and sexy and automatically makes me the objectively correct authority on Yomi's character it is impossible for me to be wrong and if u tell me im wrong ill start scream crying on the floor

won kin lottery and is capable of distinguishing between Yomi Hellsmile the character and Yomi Hellsmile The Character allowing me to both quite literally be that guy and keep another version of him as my blorbo. Manifesting in the ability of fantasizing bout yomi suffering iykwim AND getting past the masochist allegations <3 Also yeah the Yomi fic is currently in works no I will not answer questions on it

this yaoihellsmile shit is sooo easy someone asks me "ouuuyy honey unwrangle my dingle in ur boioioiong and by sproingle well heh lets jsut say. my peanits. any thoughts on that mr yaoi?" and i just answer honestly straight from the heart no bullshit no rp skillz required

woaghhhhhh......... Former director of the peacekeepers homunculus clone Yomi Hellsmile from Master Detective Archives: Rain Code by Spike Chunsoft........ holy shshshit. He's Real......

disadvantages of being yomi kin:

the regular bullshittery that comes free with being fictionkin of any kind cut my wife into pieces this is my last divorce

everybody and their mom hates Yomi and even if the tag here is way less outright aggressive and I can just easily block anyone who makes me uncomfortable in any capacity, youtube is just unusable. Just. AuUUUghhhh. I know one of my fave dr youtubers is gonna play mdarc this year and I also know he's gonna absolutely hate Yomi with a passion and frequently pause the game to talk about how terrible he his yes we get it you are allowed to have opinions on fictional characters and aren't doing anything wrong by it whatever im gonns look up yomi softcore on pixiv fuka u

overly complicates my already fucked sense of self

Blood cravings got even worse😔 bad BAD this isn't sustenance it's toxic as hell christ dude STOP❗❗

not extremely likely but still very possible nightmare scenario where the precipitation cipher gets Big attracting those people and getting bombarded with kinnie jokes and annoying Ironic Kin For Fun crowd finding its way here. And that is the at best scenario, the worst one is 2015 kin drama reignited in 2020s you can't "kin" this character unless you're x or x, you can absolutely control who you're kin with and if i don't like your very voluntary choice you should stop (just stop man <3 i won't tell you how the fuck 😊) being fictionkin with a sinful evil abuser linux user makes you a bad person that deserves to be ostracized and harassed until you unlearn your problematic ways oh my god do any of you remember 2015 warrior cat kin drama what the fuck was that. i wasn't around in danganronpa fandom during that time but im pretty sure it may have been even worse there which is insane to even think about. but i mean like hey at least fictionkin were taken (mostly.) seriously back then (albeit considered deeply cringe by the masses) and not reduced to a cheap komaeda kinnies amiright joke

i suffered more than jesus actually. the demotion and arrest was SUPER unfair and cringe guys i promise im not gonna torture people from now on you can trust me in a position of power please please please no one did it like i did it

EJ MARTINA DZIE MIE KURWA WYWIEŹLI CO TO ZA ZADUPIE MARTINA. MARTINA NIE WYTRZYMAM JUŻ WEŹ HELIKOPTER I MIE KURWA ZABIERZ Z TEGO CHLEWU MAM DOŚĆ POMOCY <- wygnany do Rzeczypospolitej za swoje zbrodnie😔

Yomi is Real (threatening)

#fictionkin coming out post #mom... dad... I'm Yomi He-[GETS IMMEDATELLY TRANSPORTED VIA A POLICE VAN TO THE NEAREST PRISON COMPLEX] #Would youy still lobe me if I. martina cube incident yakouver incident blank week murder spree incident meatbun incident former ceo incide- #mine #rain code #yomi hellsmile

[drbased]

Time for another major take-down

This is a Big One. I'm going to analyse I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out.

Part 1

Let's get into it. Firstly, the note at the start: I hate how it's become commonplace to write something online - a literal public space, accessible to anyone - and then when criticised immediately back-track and call it 'private' and 'a diary entry'. This applies to radfems on tumblr, or anyone tbh. If you want something to remain private, write it privately.

Correlation, meet causation.

Yeah, there's a reason the phrase 'correlation does not equal cause causation' exists. But this is the primary tool of human narrative-making and exactly why it is so easy for trans-identified people to discover past 'evidence' of their gender. Occam's razor is thrown out because the dull reality feels much less significant than the constructed narrative.

Ever the magical thinker, I tell myself that if I wish out loud one thousand times, I will wake up with long hair in cute pajamas with a different name — and maybe freckles.

One might consider it a minor nitpick, but here lies the primary issue: the gender essentialism that people internalise as children is not discarded as sexist nonsense, but instead the sunk-cost fallacy works its magic. Of course, the author might be using some flowery language to merely evoke the image of 'girl' in the reader's mind - but the mere fact that someone in this culture is able to communicate the exact concept of biological sex by referencing sexed roles/expectations shows just how ingrained these beliefs are in our society.

The next part, at eight years old, is especially sad. Causation and correlation definitely have a rocky relationship here. He describes getting on with mostly women. Something as basic as being friends with and admiring the females in his life is seen as 'proof' of his female identity. But of course, you're a transwoman in the closet. How many of these 'women' you like and admire, are actually women? You say you think divorced, tattooed, Catie's mum is cool - what if that person is actually a man? Or if that feels like a cheap argument, do you think that all these women especially like you, above all other 'boys' your age? Do you think they can tell?

When I ask to sleep over at my friends’ houses, I am told I am not allowed. Boys are not allowed. My friend Caitie’s mother argues about this on the phone with my mother. I realize my mother is not on my side.

No sarcasm here - I don't really get this bit. Did you mean to write that girls are not allowed? Because historically, parents are fine with boys having sleepovers together - it's typically cross-sex sleepovers that parents find an issue with, for all sorts of reasons. Not allowing sleepvers with other boys would be a concern of your mum specifically; nothing to do with gender. And speaking of your mum, your takeaway is that she's not on your side? What a strangely powerful conclusion to come to from one minor thing. Parents give their kids all sorts of weird and stupid rules. She might have her own reasons to not let you go to sleepovers - have you, say, asked her?

I love everything my sister loves, but I will not admit it. I know she and her friends will make fun of me. I know my parents will chastise me and correct me. I am learning the rules, and I am learning that boys liking girl things is a very high stakes issue. I am learning that adults react the same way to my interest in makeup as they do to my interest in matches and lighters.

Oh, you're learning the rules, are you? Did you ever want to un-learn them, maybe question them a bit, at least wonder for a second why the rules are that way? I once asked a trans person in DMs if they'd wondered why certain gendered expectations exist, and they responded 'to be honest, I hadn't really thought about it'. Remember, trans people are supposed to know more about gender than cis people. I've known trans people IRL to obsess over the details of their passing with zero questioning of the status quo. The fact that we're supposed to consider this rhetoric to be truly radical is telling.

As if maybe, by being what I am, I might burn down something very important to them. Something that makes their life more comfortable and easy.

The reason that following gender expectations makes life comfortable and easy for 'cis women' is exactly the same as it is for you: because it means that they don't have to feel angry at the world, that they can accept that everything they learned during childhood is natural and healthy and they don't have to hate their parents, peers and other adults for demanding certain things of them, and now as adults they retain certain 'perks' for conforming. You're only fractionally better because you're rejecting one set of expectations in favour of another - but in another way you're a whole lot worse because you're literally a member of the oppressor class wearing the costume of the oppressed class and thinking that makes you privy to their experiences. You're the one with a privilege so important to you that women's freedom and liberation would burn it down.

I am jealous of my sister’s clothing. One day, home alone after school, I sneak into her room and pull on her Tinkerbell Halloween costume. I slip the elastic straps over my shoulders, then the tights along my legs. It fits.

Ah, the classic. The charitable version of me acknowledges that many trans people have been perfectly willing to admit (especially pre 2016) that they're dysphoric over sex and will accept these surface-level associations purely to help them relieve dysphoria. And I understand that. But this man claimed at the start that correlation = causation, here. And you cannot tell me that everyone who has read this will be thinking as deeply as I am - many people are fully happy to admit that this has nothing to do with sex and entirely to do with gender i.e. gendered roles and expectations. To many people, that Tinkerbell costume is synonymous with 'female'. It makes you wonder why we decided to say that vaginas are female sex organs at all, if gender can be summed up with long hair and cute pyjamas.

#my writing

[typical-simplelove]

MUSCLE MEMORY -> Elias Pettersson

As part of the Subject to Change Chronicles

Summary: The first time you saw Elias Pettersson was at your cousin’s engagement party six years ago. When your cousin first introduced Elias to you as her fiance, it felt like a cheap party trick because how was it possible that the connection you undoubtedly felt with Elias was never going to go anywhere?

Author's Note: Here is the first part of this series and the first fic I've written and posted in a long time. Please, please be kind to this one (and the series). Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and stay tuned for the next three parts!

Warnings: Emotional cheating; divorce; not wanting kids; family disagreements and schisms

Word Count: 2k

Note: I am NOT condoning cheating of any kind, but human relationships are complicated, and I'm trying to portray that here. Additionally, I am NOT villainizing anyone who does not want kids. Not wanting to have children is entirely valid, and it's important to voice that opinion when making life decisions with a partner.

It was like a flashback, watching him walk into the room. His swagger, the way the light hit his hair, the way his lips curled into a polite smile at the restaurant patrons who recognized him, the way he flattened his body in order to let the waiters get to their table. It was all familiar. It was like watching him walk to the private room all those years ago.

Elias Pettersson hasn’t changed since you first saw him five years ago, four years ago, three years ago, two years ago. He was the same. And your reaction was still the same.

He still made your heart hammer through the years. He still made you grip your glass tighter. He still made you sit up straighter (a trait your mother wishes she could steal from him). He still made your entire body rigid and sweat, but he could still make you feel like you were sitting on a bed of cotton candy (minus the stickiness).

It was a muscle, knee-jerk reaction to him.

When your body sat up straighter and every cell in your body slowed down, you knew Elias walked into the room. You didn’t have to see him to know he was there.

He never failed to get this reaction out of you. You were doing your best to try not to let yourself react to him, but you couldn’t. Only Elias Pettersson could make your insides warm without even looking at you.

It was only a shame he was never yours.

The glistening wedding band on his hand that you knew would be there was a reminder of it. Elias was never yours. You never got to have him, but the reaction was still the same every time you saw him. It was all the same to you. He could still make your entire heartbeat soar through the roof. Before he entered the room, the room felt like a Vancouver rainy day—cold and dreary—but when he walked into a room, it felt like a New York rainy day—muggy and humid—but in a good way.

For old-time’s sake, let’s see where this goes.

. . .

“How long will you be back in town?” Elias asks when he sits next to you. He eyes your drink, and a soft smile settles on his face. “You’re still drinking the same thing.”

“I know what I like here,” you reply, ignoring the first question. It doesn’t surprise you that Elias doesn’t know that you’ve moved to Vancouver. After he got married to your cousin, you and your cousin had a falling out. Her side of the family stopped talking to your side of the family. Your side initiated the schism because they couldn’t comprehend why your cousin would accuse you of being in love with her husband. It’s only a shame that your family thinks it’s a lie.

“It’s been a while,” Elias says, continuing the conversation. Was he ignoring the heat that now lay between the two of you? Did he want to wrap his arm around your shoulder as he did three years ago? Was he fighting everything in him not to move closer to you like you were? It was an instantaneous reaction to being around Elias. You had to be as close to him as possible.

“So, we are addressing the elephant in the room, then.”

“Is there something to address?” he asks, his stupid (oh, so stupid) smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Your wife accused me of being in love with you two years ago.”

“Ex-wife,” Elias corrects.

That’s new information.

"When did that happen?" you ask.

"About a year ago," he replies, taking his left hand to swipe it through his hair. That's the first time you notice that the familiar silver band is not shining the expensive light of the fancy restaurant. "We just weren't meshing together anymore."

"That's all?" you ponder, slightly hopeful. You didn't want to be the reason they ended their marriage, but you couldn't help but wonder maybe, just maybe, you had something to do with it. Maybe, just maybe, Elias feels the same connection and feelings for you that you do for him.

Elias gives you a curious look. He opens his mouth to say something, but he closes it again. That continues for a few seconds.

"Cat got the tongue?" you ask, teasing him but also sensing the inner turmoil within him.

"I'm just not sure if it's the right thing to say."

"Right now or ever?"

"Both," he answers, flashing you his million-dollar smile, the smile that's enough to send ripples through your body.

On instinct, your hand goes to cover his. The whole interaction is similar to the one two years ago that sent your family and his now ex-wife's family into a schism. You can't help but wonder who's lingering around the corner to misinterpret the meaning of your actions.

This time, there would be no misinterpreting because you're very, very sure (like 99.99% sure) that the emotions are the same. The feelings are the same. The purpose is the same.

"Even if we try it now," Elias whispers, his fingers lacing through yours. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble with your family."

"Trouble?"

"I doubt it would be very pleasing to hear that you're dating your cousin's ex-husband," Elias tells you bluntly.

Dating. Dating. Dating.

That one word is echoing through your ears, and you can't help but think back to this similar situation two years ago. A similar situation in the same private room in the same restaurant in the same booth with the same two hands interlocked.

. . .

Two Years Ago

"Your family is merciless in asking about babies," Elias sighs when he takes a seat next to you.

"That's why I continuously drink alcohol and stay single," you reply, pretending those were the two reasons why you were having a mini-pity party in a booth on the outskirts of the party. You were pretending that Elias wasn't the reason you were trying to drink and forget. You were pretending that your way too intense feelings for Elias weren't the reason you're single.

"I feel like if I try your reasons, I'd be without a wife, and drinking, as far as I know, doesn't affect sperm." Elias' final attempt at trying to make a joke does little to settle your inner turmoil. What were you doing talking to the very man you shouldn't be talking to? You had no right to talk to Elias while you harbored these illicit feelings.

You weren't in town often, but you made the trip back to Vancouver yearly for this family reunion, and every time, for the past six years—since Elias and your cousin announced their engagement—you fell back easily into comfort with talking and confiding with Elias. It felt like a dirty secret. You shouldn't be allowed to have this comfort with him when you were in love with him, and he was married to someone else, but you still did. It was a memory you went back to. It was a memory that you replayed in your head so often that even though you tried as you might to ignore it, your body returned to him.

Without even asking, Elias took the glass out of your hand and finished your drink in one sip.

"Trouble in paradise?" You meant to sound teasing, but you knew you sounded bitter. Did you want there to be trouble with their marriage? The saying "I'm happy if they're happy" is full of shit. Sure, it filled you with joy to know that Elias was happy, but that happiness was fleeting because the small joy that filled you when you realized he was happy went away when you realized that you weren't happy. There was nothing happy with your situation.

"She doesn't want kids," Elias admits. "Which I understand, but she knew I wanted kids before we got married. She told me she wanted kids then, and now, she suddenly tells me she doesn't want kids and has known for a long time."

"She probably wanted to marry you that badly that she would've said anything. I mean, she probably knew that you weren't going to marry her if you knew she didn't want kids."

"True, but a marriage is more than just loving someone," Elias tells you. "It's about having similar goals and ideals and aspirations. It's about wanting the same things. It doesn't matter how much I love someone; if we both don't want the same things out of life, I can't envision a future with them. Right now, I can't envision a future with her."

That last part broke your heart. You were surprised that it didn't bring out small, happy ballerina tip-toe-sized pitters of happiness.

You placed your hand on Elias'. In response, he intertwines your fingers with his, and suddenly it all made sense. You looked into his eyes if he felt the same thing you did. If the small tears in his eyes were any indication, he didn't feel it. Well, if he did, his heartbreak was far the superior emotion he was feeling at the moment.

"I'm sorry that things are tough for you right now," you tell him. "If it's any consolation, you can always talk to me. I'm always here for you." The small "I love you" was sitting on your tongue, but you fought everything in yourself not to say it.

The way he looked at you, though. That's how you knew that he felt it and wanted you to say it. His eyes told you he needed you to say it, but you couldn't in good conscience say it knowing that he was still married. It doesn't matter how much you love Elias. You couldn't tell a married person that you loved them.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. Here?" Elias' wife—your cousin—deadpans.

"It's not what it looks like," you immediately say, pulling your hand away from Elias'. You were staring intently at your cousin, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see Elias' reflection in the mirror on the wall across from you, and you think (think!) you see a small pout on his face when you pull your hand away.

Try as you might, you try not to focus on his pout. You try to listen to your cousin's accusations. You try to think about how you could explain the situation to her. You tried to think about what you would say to defend yourself, but you couldn't. All you could think about was Elias' pout. What did it mean? Was it just a muscle reaction whenever someone pulls their hand away or was it something more?

Ultimately, though, you couldn't help but think:

What if Elias was married to the wrong person in your family the entire time?

. . .

"Elias," you softly whisper.

"I'm not asking for anything from you," he replies, his voice just as low. "I'm just telling you exactly what I'm feeling and thinking. I've spent the last year trying to figure out where I went wrong with you and her. With her, our marriage was based on lies—and there was more than just the one about kids. With you, though, it was not telling you exactly what I felt."

"Elias," you say again. "I don't know what to say."

He shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything. I'm just telling you where I'm at, and if you ever want to explore what could be, you know where I am."

With that, he walks away from the booth and out of the restaurant.

It takes you a moment before you run out after him, calling his name.

When you're both outside on the sidewalk, you and Elias face each other.

"I've been in love with you since the first moment I first saw you," you begin. "I want to explore that."

"Yeah?" he asks, a smile on his face.

"Yeah." You nod. "I want to jump in heart first to this."

Stay tuned for part 2, soon!

Taglist: @sorryjustafangirl @ilyasorokinn @kolsmikaelson @shinyfalcon4 @jostystyles @besthockeyfics @ch-ristiane @owenpowerstapejob @plds2000 @drei-mrssvechii @laurenairay @nilspettersson @jamiedryssdale @assmanselke @lam-ila @2manytabsopen @corneliaskates @boqvistsbabe (Join the taglist here!)

#elias pettersson #claudia writes #subject to change series #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fic #hockey fic #hockey writing #nhl fic #nhl writing #op: 2022

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

@monthly-challenge 2024 | 6. Sharing Food

I used this prompt for my original characters, Nathan and Patience: the story is under the cut.

Word count: 1,411

“What did you want to cook?” asked Nathan, the instant Patience set foot in the kitchen. He was enveloped in a comically large apron, impressive given his height.

Distracted, Patience said, “Did… did you make that apron? Did you literally just make an apron that was too large just for the fun of it?” He smiled charmingly. “Of course.”

It was floral, and not precisely what she would have expected him to choose, but the pink flowers suited his oven-flushed cheeks. “I didn’t even know you sewed, but I’m not particularly surprised when I think about it.”

“I don’t, much, but I wanted an apron the way I wanted it, so I made it. I even hand-sewed it; that’s not machine stitches you see there.”

Patience took it up and examined it critically. “Very neat,” she said in surprise. “I completely thought that was machine sewing.”

“Success.” He grinned at her, and Patience grinned back, taken by his expression. She was maybe a little bit obsessed with her boyfriend, all things considered. Then again, he was a pretty good sort of fellow, the reason they were going out. She wouldn’t have settled for anyone less than him, because the only way that could have ended was badly, and she had no wish to have a relationship that important end badly if she could help it.

She suspected she got into her head too often. Shaking away the thought, Patience replied to his earlier question with, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Her boyfriend blinked back at her, then realised what she was asking. “Oh! Um, not really. Unless you wanted to make migraine soup.”

Patience laughed. “Soup out of a migraine?” she quipped.

“You know what I mean,” Nathan grumbled.

“That doesn’t stop me from laughing at you.” She offered her most charming smile.

“I would not have it so,” said Nathan, and bowed in a courtly fashion to her. “Listen, if you didn’t say that kind of thing where it was clearly noticeable I’d be filing for divorce already!”

She quieted, and he grimaced. “I didn’t—look, Pat, I’m sorry. Bad choice of words.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll try not to again.”

“Thanks.”

That little awkwardness past, Patience brightened and said, “So—do you have a cook book of some kind that we can look through?”

“That’s an excellent point. Mum does.” He fished out three large tomes and dumped them on the kitchen table, and he and Patience pored over them for several minutes, flipping through the books at varying speeds, before Patience said, “How about this?”

‘This’ was a recipe for the curiously named Linzer cookies, which Patience had never seen before, and which Nathan quickly said he had never made. “They do look interesting, though.”

“A bit like yo-yos,” she said, examining the recipe. “Except more exciting because look at that centre. It’s so pretty!”

“Food is to eat but also to look pretty,” he agreed. “Do we have all the ingredients? Flour, yes—almond flour, also yes—salt, yes—butter, let me check—powdered sugar, yes—brown sugar, yes—eggs, yes—vanilla extract, yes—almond extract, let me check—fruit jam, yes. Butter and almond extract, then—” Nathan went in search of the pantry, and returned victorious. “We have both butter and almond extract, apparently. You’re in luck, Patience, because we usually don’t have almond flour but there was some marked down a lot at the shops the other day, so Mum grabbed it while it was there.”

“Wonderful. It wasn’t for anything particular, was it?”

“No, just while it was so cheap as to be cheaper than normal flour. Convenient, isn’t it?”

“Exceedingly.” She waited, awkwardly, while Nathan fetched everything out of the pantry and fridge, then said, “Um—do you have a spare apron?”

“Oh! Yes, there’s Mum’s.”

Patience picked up the dark blue apron, put it on and glanced quizzically at his brilliant pink one. “Pink for girls and blue for boys, whomst?” she said.

“Nothin’ doing, this is mine,” he said, adopting a threatening attitude.

“I wasn’t about to take it away from you,” she replied placidly.

“Just as well. I shouldn’t have let you. Besides, it’d look ridiculous on you.”

“It looks ridiculous on you,” she said fondly. “Not that that’s a failing.”

“Good: I wear my ridiculousness with pride.”

Patience stepped closer and kissed him quickly. “That’s what I love about you.”

“I know.” He kissed her back, and their plans were slightly delayed.

Once Patience extricated herself from the deep embrace they ended up in, she tied back her hair and said, “Well, we should probably get onto cooking those biscuits—”

“They’re cookies, dear, read the recipe.”

She rolled her eyes cheerfully at his nitpicking and said, “Whatever they are. We should cook them.”

“Are we allowed to mix the ingredients together first?” he asked plaintively. This time Patience laughed.

“First we need a mixing bowl,” she said, reading the instructions.

“Ahead of you.” Nathan put a glass mixing bowl on the bench with a gentle clink.

“And whisk the flour, almond flour and salt together.”

“Whisk,” he said, and got out a wooden spoon.

“If you do your mixing, then, while I cream the butter and sugars? It says to use a mixer but I reckon I can do it well enough.”

“I believe in you,” he encouraged her.

She flashed him a smile, then picked up a tablespoon and set to work on it. Nathan was done much more quickly than she was, but watched her attentively and was ready with the first egg yolk as soon as she proclaimed it done.

“I can take over if you want,” he offered, but she shook her head. “Maybe in a bit when the going gets tough.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Patience mixed in silence until it was done, then separated it into two batches.

Once they had shaped the first batch, Nathan read the recipe. “Okay, time to chill.”

She grinned. “Excellent.”

They passed the time until the cookies were ready for the oven in a theological discussion about the terminologies used for God in the Bible. At ‘God of my refuge’, the timer went off and both abandoned their discussion reluctantly, promising one another that they would come back to it later.

They rolled out the dough in companionable conversation, but not about the theological discussion, since Patience wanted to be able to cross-reference and find exactly where each term was used, which she couldn’t exactly do with floury hands. The biscuits they made a perfectly round shape, with small heart shapes in the middle. Nathan made a heart shape with his hands after handing the cutter to Patience. “‘Cause I love you,” he said romantically.

“Love you too,” she retorted, face lighting up with a smile.

“Great, glad to hear that,” he said, looking a little flushed as he kept on cutting out circles and handing precisely half of them to Patience for the additional heart.

Once they were in the oven, they returned to their seats. Patience was the one to remember the timer, which Nathan said was just as well, since he’d forgotten about it and the cookies would be rather blacker than intended if he’d been the one to remember.

While they were cooling, Patience picked up the Bible again. “Where’s that verse about the Lord being a strong tower that the righteous run into?”

“Psalms, I’m pretty sure. Maybe Jonah. Probably Psalms though.”

“Why Jonah?” she mused, already flipping through Psalms slowly and scanning for the desired verse.

“I don’t know. I always get it mixed up with Jonah’s prayer, but I don’t think it’s in there at all.”

“No, neither do I—aha! Found it. It’s not in Psalms at all. I thought suddenly that it might be in Proverbs so I checked. Eighteen, verse ten.”

“Thanks for finding it. Isn’t it interesting?” Nathan added, glancing at her. “The many different ways God is revealed as a—a thing? You know, I can’t remember the word but you know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. Not just merciful and gracious and all that, but as a refuge, a hiding place, a strong tower. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Exciting seems the wrong word to me,” he demurred.

“Well, it’s exciting to me,” she said firmly. “D’you think the cookies will be cool yet? I want to en-jam them and try them.”

Nathan laughed kindly at her. “They won’t be cool for a while, Pat.”

Nathan and Patience were using this recipe for their cookies! I've never made it but it looked fun. The bit about terminologies used for God was stolen from a conversation I had the other day with... someone on Chrumblr but I forget who. If you see it, hope you don't mind lol. Tagging @stealingmyplaceinthesun@graycedelfin@pilgrimsofworship and @choasuqeen

#februfluff2024 #nathan #patience

[rebelrayne]

What’s the top ten Islanders that you love to hate?

How much time do we have? Let’s go BACKWARDS! Not gonna include the obvious. I’m also using the ones I actually do really like, I just love to hate on everyone tbh.

10. Tai. I don’t like him though. He’s just… no. He’s not it for me y’all I’m not even sorry. Not in the slightest am I sorry for thinking this mf is annoying.

9. Bill. Bill actually doesn’t bother me that much but I will 100% take a jab at him whenever the opportunity arises. It’s too easy.

8. Juliet. No one likes her. No one is surprised. She lied on her application. Definitely 53 and divorced with 3 kids.

7. James and that’s hilarious because he might be a bit like me but I will refuse this until my last breath.

6. Elliot. I love him but I hate him and I hate his stupid ass cheap glasses. You got money, go buy some eye serum you look 35 not 23 dude.

5. Youcef. God if you’ve known me a while, you know what a clown I am for that pixel. Made fun of his hair, arrogance, clothes only to be like “hey I love this guy now everyone. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.”

4. Bobby. The crew tried to star one of my Bobby fics as a favorite on my fic list and it will be a cold day in hell before I do that. Unless it’s for Zephyr, I’ll do anything for that bitch.

3. Tom. I am Tom’s biggest stan and hater. He’s so fucking awkward dude I hate game Tom. “And I love you” YOU WHAT. My guy, it’s been an hour???

2. Ryan. I like Ryan, and I’m crawling back on hands and knees if I can’t have Elliot or Hamish but my God he is so fucking cringe.

And this is a surprise to no one….

1. BRUNO, who needs to get a real mf job 😭 he’s really not that bad I just like to hate on him for reasons not related to him or anyone in the fandom currently 😂 but ask anyone in the crew, any time the opportunity is given, I diss this poor guy even if we aren’t talking LITG

Ask Game

#jesslay answers

[extremelyblackandwhite]

hi! for the 24 days of christmas can i pick “i drew their name! AGAIN. it’s been the third year in a row! what the fuck.” with lee bodecker or destroyer chris, please?

pairing: destroyer!ex-husband!chris x ex-wife!reader

a/n: thank you so much for your request! if anyone else wants to participate, here's the instructions

12 days of christmas

Chris never liked the holidays, never - even as a child. He found them pointless, shitty days wrapped up in fake shinny paper with just a high enough dose of capitalism to make the rich man happy. As his father used to say "why waste all my hard earned money on one year decorations?" and as each year passed by, he came to agree with him more and more.

      - Time to pick a name out the hat. - Erin placed the hat on top of his desk. He rose his eyes from his paperwork, sighing as he put his hand in the dirty hat which seemed to make way all year round. - And spare me the Grinch speech. It gets old. 

      - Secret Santa gets old. - he finally found a wrapped paper, taking it out and on top of his paperwork. - Who did you get this year?

      - Got you. Heads up, you’re getting a Starbucks gift card for 10 dollars. 

      - How thoughtful. - he rolled his eyes. - That will get me what? 2 whole coffees?

       - And you’re welcome. - she sat on top of this hat. - And who got the unfortunate luck of having you as their Secret Santa? 

He shrugged, grabbing the small, haphazardly wrapped little paper. No matter who the person’s name was, they were gonna get the same thing he gave everyone he was forced to give someone a present - a gift card to IKEA. However, as he unwrapped that little paper and a familiar name presented itself written in black ink, he found himself wondering if that was a good idea. He found himself wondering if he could ever give her a gift. That’d be weird. 

     - I drew her name! - he rubbed his face. - AGAIN! It’s been the third year in a row! What the fuck?! Let me pick again. 

     - No. - she took the hat away, somewhere he couldn’t find it. - You do this every year. It’s Secret Santa, she won’t know who gave her a shitty present. 

     - You mean my ex-wife? FBI laboratory specialist, highly skilled, will not figure out I gave her a shitty IKEA gift card? 

    - Maybe don’t give her an IKEA gift card? C’mon, don’t be cheap. You used to give great gifts. 

    - No, she used to give great gifts. I don’t think I can ask her what gift she wants. 

    - Sounds like your problem. We’re doing gift giving in a week. Sort it out. 

He guessed the IKEA gift card was out of the picture, yet again eve when they were married, he never knew what to give her. He guessed that’s why they worked during Christmas - she knew what to do and she loved it, she thrived in it. Maybe that was why they didn’t work out. All that he knew is that he couldn’t figure out what to give his ex-wife. God, he hadn’t spoken to her since ... well, he couldn’t remember the last he spoke to her. His lawyers had handed her the divorce papers, they didn’t even go to court. It was that easy. 

Shit. This had to be the universe trying to get him to actually speak to her. He’d never want to speak to her, actually, he’d considered moving to the CIA for a while, or working for the police department - anything really. However, the director was never too happy and so, for the past three years he’d been playing keeping away from her. Except for one particular evening where he’d gotten drunk and tried finding her, only to have his heart shattered once he saw her kissing someone. Ever since then, he’d successfully avoided his ex-wife and something told him, she’d successfully avoided him. 

      - Got the wife? - the guy who sat next to him pipped up. - Could always give her a date with me. She’s smoking. 

     - She’s my ex-wife and if you even speak to her, I’ll blow your head off. 

This was ridiculous. 

He could talk to her, he could ask her what she wanted for Christmas. Or we could ask one of her colleagues. Definitely the second option. Y/N had always been hard to buy gifts for, not that she was hard to please, after all she cherished any and everything given to her by anyone she cared for. She’d even kept the flowers he’d given her for their first date. God, what an awkward first date that had been, their reservation was for one person, they got rained on and her heels broke the moment she stepped out of the flat. Thinking about it, none of their dates ever went smoothly - something always went wrong yet she always found something to remember it by, to laugh about. What a pretty laugh she had. 

He could still remember the first day they met, probably one of the rainiest days in US history and she had thoughtfully placed her umbrella above his head as they rushed into the building. He could no longer remember what style her hair had been in, the colour of her nail polish, or the colour of her clothing, but he could still remember being absolutely enchanted by her. It was a feeling that he’d never had before - almost like all the oxygen had been knocked off him. It was a feeing he had never felt ever since and Chris was fine with that. He was of the opinion you had one great love and then several small ones - besides, he no longer cared for the dating pool. Whatever he ended up getting her, he’d possibly give it to Erin and spare him the awkwardness of having to deal with having to hand it to her.

However, faith did not seem to be on his side as Erin decided to ditch which meant he had to give it to her. Now, just because he had to give it to her did not necessarily meant he had to see her. He could just drop it off at her office desk and go his merry way. 

     - Chris? 

The sound was trembling, almost like a flute, feminine-like. He remembered that voice like the back of his hand, he remembered the different ways she’d say his name but none of them, none of the times she had called for him carried so much ... regret. This, this is why he didn’t want to see her. He slowly turned around, first looking at her smart shoes before following the A line of her lab coat up to her face. It still looked the same, even with the passage of time and a shorter haircut, she was still the same. She looked the same. 

     - Secret Santa. - he attempted to smile, despite his lip trembling. - I had ... had a meeting. 

    - Yeah ...

    - Shit, no I fucking didn’t. - he came clean immediately. - Just didn’t want to see you. 

    - Surprised you didn’t trade with Erin. That’s what you’ve done the past three years. 

    - She got me this year. Anyway ... I just wanted to leave the gift. I hope you like it. - he put his hands in his pockets. - You look good. 

    - Don’t be mean. - she sighed, walking past him towards her desk. Chris furrowed a brow, turning around to face her. - Don’t come here after not speaking to me for three years and tell me I look good. 

    - I’m not ...

    - No. - she interrupted him. - It’s not fair. You didn’t speak to me for three years, you just ... you just had your lawyer hand me divorce papers when you came back from undercover. I didn’t get a chance to even ... don’t be mean now. 

    - Did you want me to give you the divorce papers myself? 

    - Yes, but you were clearly too much of a coward to do it.

He stood still in his spot as if a weight had fallen right on him. 

    - You’re right. - he admitted. - But I only did it to protect you. I mean ... what kind of life were we living, Y/N? With me gone? Getting into undercover missions?

    - I didn’t care. We were happy, I was happy but apparently you weren’t. Clearly you never were.

     - You clearly didn’t take long to rebound either. 

     - Was I supposed to be eagerly awaiting? You made the divorce seem final.

     - To protect you.

     - You’re just selfish. You just did that so you wouldn’t feel remorseful if something happened. You knew the nature of your job when you married me, don’t act like you didn’t. You just got tired.

     - Tired? Are you fucking kidding me? I had the perfect wife and I only did this ... I only did that because I wanted you safe, I wanted you to be happy even if it was without me. After that mission with Erin, I just ... I couldn’t put you through me dying and grieving and all that shit. I only did that because I love you and I wanted you happy?

   - You think I’m happy? You think I’m happy knowing my ex-husband avoids me and would rather avoid me than talk? I loved you Chris, I loved you so much and you didn’t even ...

   - You would’ve convinced me not to. - he interrupted her. - You would’ve convinced me not to leave you and you would’ve succeeded. I can’t say no to you.

    - That is no excuse. 

   - Can we start this again? Please?

   - Maybe next year. 

#sebastian stan

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Hi~♡ please allow me to me to rank and analyze the entire list of writing propositions you put out while I avoid the last chapter of yamqn because I am keeping it to a moment when I can create the perfect atmosphere to read it properly.

1° werewolf!txt au full fic - that one is a little special to me cause the basis for that one was the first of your writings I ever came across

2° necromancer!oc and TaeGyu - the plot just sounds really really interesting and I love the little touch of classic horror and morbid themes i am getting from this one. that hint of a 70's horror sexploitation vibe

3° teaching your best friend Gyu how to fuck full fic - how not to love this one? it's guaranteed quality enjoyment. THE safe bet

4° bear!hybrid Gyu - the little excerpt you posted a while ago got me mad you ended it there. I want more. and bears are very much to my liking in hybrid fic for the contrast of being stupidly fluffy and cute but at the same time deadly dangerous

5° puppy!gyu getting teased by kitten you full fic - love how the synopsis basically implies that we are the pet's pet 💀. aside from that it's a perv!gyu fic with a bonus of fluffy ears and tails.

6° fox hybrid!Jun and owner!Bin - the synopsis got me interested in the dynamics with yeonjun. the idea of him being a arrogant fox for being highly desired and at the same time a cheap overused sex toy for rent... sublime.

7° puppy hybrid!Gyu and best friend kitty!Oc

8° YAMQN priest sequel - let's go sexy priest! the religious macabre is a special kind of subtle horror aesthetic, I love it... the juxtaposition of divine and corrupt, salvation and oppression, inconditional love and eternal existential doom (yes, I was raised catholic lol)

9° YAMQN barista sequel - it has potential, but I feel like something is missing. maybe it's the word barista that is tricking me into seeing this as more basic than it really is.

10° yandere soulmates TaeGyu - for some reason the synopsis reminded me of another fic that had a very similar theme, I really did not enjoy reading that one. I mean, if anyone can do it right it's probably you but I don't know

11° arranged marriage prince!Gyu - I don't think I will be able to read a prince!gyu fic and NOT think of yamqn for a while

12° perv!Soobin - too close to the cannon version of him I have in my brain 💀 (sorry, soobin biased people... don't take that as offense please)

13° senior Oc and yandere!tyun - when I was reading the title the first thing that came to mind was "senior oc" as in senior citizen Oc! straight up retired rich old lady Oc with her young hunk trophy husband that only married her for her money and is secretly trying to murder her... now I want the version I imagined more than the one you propositioned lol

14° stepbro!Tyun full story - not my type of porn category. as someone with giant frankstein of a family tree that has more divorces and remarriages than people... it's a bit uncomfortable.

15° best of the best - not txt

16° high stakes - found myself frowning while reading the prompt for some reason

17° ceo son!leeknow - not txt. and every fanfic that features a ceo or ceo son as the romantic interest reminds of fifty shades 💀 so no thanks

(I already voted on the poll hihi)

~♡anon

good idea. i honestly haven't even read it again after posting it (which i usually do to give myself perspective on what the hell i just did) because i'm scared lmao. let me comment on your comments

so many people came to my blog from that fic wow it's honestly so surprising as that fic was almost like an afterthought that i didn't really expect to get back to

yup we love horror sexploitation in this house lmao. though i'd definitely need ideas on where to take the fic as other than the original premise and the dynamics between the characters, i don't know here to ultimately take it

definitely a safe bet. fluffy smutty goodness

i love this much a lot too but my only reservation is that it's pretty similar to the yandere puppy gyu cabin fic i recently posted. both involve oc getting tricked into mating with her crazy best friend

it is a perv!gyu fic and it is soooo cute. weirdly enough it's inspired by this video of a real life cat and dog lmao

this one was an ooooold request but yes owner soobin basically degrading jun for being an overpriced dildo and jun being offended that this dumb vixen isn't falling for him like all the other vixens is just yum

exactly lmao

this one can go alright or be super dark and disturbing depending on the version you guys choose (if this option even gets chosen)

oh believe me there is nothing basic about it. that's just a front to lull you into a false sense of security before unleashing the classic gyu moves of manipulation and gaslighting and convincing reader she's insane as the story gradually devolves

oh this is actually inspired by one of my favorite fics that i've read. give it a read i'm sure you'd love it too

fair enough, but this gyu is super sweet and adorable

i fail to see the issue 😌😂

lmao i'm all for older readers (since i'm older than all the boys) but not to the level of senior citizen lmao. but i did think of making a sugar mommy au

makes sense. i never had a step sibling so i don't share the same trauma lmao

😂😂😂😂

really? it's actually more of that campy sexploitation horror than even number two since it's inspired by an episode of buffy the vampire slayer

tbf i was considering changing it to gyu (because ofc I would) and it's nothing like fifty shades of grey at all. it's peak bratty sub idol and oc putting him in his place

#mort talks #♡anon

[kristawashere]

To answer your question(s)...

When have you felt most proud of our relationship?

I don't know if I have a "most" proud. I think whenever people talk about us as "us" I feel proud. We are together, our friends and family can reliably say and talk about "us" about x, y, z. Krista and Alex bla bla bla. The girls yadda yadda.

What are 5 memories that defined the person you are?

I spit these out as they came to me. Then I reordered them to be chronological. Of note, most of these are from later in my life rather than childhood. I think I really figured out who I was a bit later. Also there are 6. They all felt important.

1. Getting a lecture from my dad when I was around 9 about my behaviour. I used to act out and held such resentment for the foster kids and he just let me have it one day about how I need to stop being an awful little brat because they don’t deserve that and I need to be better for them. How we’re all kids, but I have an advantage over them, and they need me to not be just one more shitty thing in their life.

2. Express yourself '08. Me, Nell, Jess, Ian getting hammered and reading our journals to each other from childhood and talking out traumas. Laughing and crying and just being so vulnerable with each other.

3. Standing on my scale in my bedroom, seeing 102, and getting filled up with so much hate for myself because I was working so hard and wanted the number to be lower than that. 

4. Sitting at my table at Shawna’s wedding watching her say “I do”, and crying so hard. I added this one because it was my first heart break experience, and she taught me what feelings of love for another person actually are. We’d had ups and downs before and after that memory, but I had never felt anything (romantically) as awful as that before that moment.

5. Being in Gareth’s hospital room with my family and listening to his heartbeat slow down, watching my brother sob, watching everyone sob.

6. Feeling so much love for you in my heart when you disassembled a sink in Mexico just to get my cheap shitty ring back for me. It sounds ridiculous but it felt like the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

When have you felt the most authentic and comfortable in our relationship?

I think when we’re at the cottage with your family is when it feels the most authentic. When your mom refers to us as “the girls” and we can cuddle on the couch without it feeling strange and I look like a slob in front of everyone and it doesn’t matter. When we’re there it feels like it’s been 50 years instead of 5 for some reason.

Edit for post-cottage thoughts: while the above is still true, maybe it felt strained this year and like we couldn't fully let go. Maybe a better answer is similar to when I'm most proud.

What did your parents teach you about romantic relationships? (thing you want to do vs don't want to do)

As a child they taught me bad habits. They used to fight a lot and use me as bait. I used to wish they would divorce because they were awful. Then after my dad's accident it's like they remembered they love each other. That's the mom and dad you see. I guess maybe they've taught me to laugh off whatever you can because holding on doesn't always make sense.

What has our relationship taught you about yourself?

I value a close partner more than I thought I would. I used to picture myself as a lone wolf who went on dates but that would be enough. But I know now that that's not the case. Or if it was, I wouldn't know what I was missing.

What are the biggest ways you think you've changed over the past few years?

I've gotten more tired. We're growing up, work is less work and more career. I've slowed down. I see that in myself. My patience is thinning in general. However I don't see that as bad. I just really feel strongly in the idea that my hours should be spent doing exactly what I want to do, rather than pleasing others. Also I'm fatter.

When did you last cry? What was it about?

I think my last cry was the night I was locked out of the house, just walking around at 3 in the morning trying to figure out how to move forward.

What would a perfect day together look like for you?

Sun. Drinks. Food. Music. Quiet. Cuddles. No obligations.

What is a way we’ve grown together in our relationship? What's a way we have grown as individuals?

Together - we haven’t mastered it yet but our arguments are getting better. And by that I mean they are getting more productive.

As individuals - you’ve gotten better at communicating. I’ve gotten more patient with you.

When you’re feeling anxious or overwhelmed, what can I do to help?

Depends on the situation. Sometimes I need to be alone to unpack my thoughts, sometimes I need a cuddle, sometimes I need a distraction. I guess ask me what I need and make me give you a tangible answer. And then help me do whatever the thing is.

What are 3 values that we share? What are 3 that we differ on?

We both:

-Want to always do better. Whether it's always educating ourselves on important things or fixing things.

-Try hard to not be shitty to people.

-Value our close friendships and relationships.

What do we differ on? I'm probably more selfish than you, whereas you're more accommodating when it comes to commitments or requests from others.

What does a balanced relationship look like to you?

Time for each other that doesn't take away from time apart, and vice versa. Hard with pets and full time jobs and social lives.

What is the best gift I’ve given you (physical gift, emotional support etc.)

Unwavering support.

When have you felt the most deeply connected in our relationship?

When we have best friend moments mixed in with romantic things. Big belly laughs with tears in the middle of a fancy dinner date kind of thing.

How can you tell when I need your support or that I’m struggling? Can you tell?

I can tell you need me when you aren't present. Which we've had a bit of a rollercoaster of this year. Not caring about things you normally like, not communicating. I can always tell. I wish I could always help.

What would your younger self think of our relationship?

She would be shocked at the connection. Grossed out by how we met. She would be stuck on how fat you let me get. She would love our inside jokes. She would feel relief that soon someone will look at her the way she sees you look at me.

What does vulnerability mean to you?

Just being honest or unguarded without fear of negative consequences. 

What are the next steps you envision in our relationship? How can we support one another to get there? 

I guess that our wedding is the tangible “next step”. Making more of an effort to actively start planning would be how to get there. So maybe putting planning time on the calendar or something. I would like to be better at that. 

What are 5 things you appreciate the most about me?

1. Your compassion for other people, no matter who it is or how it might inconvenience you 

2. Your seemingly infinite patience with me

3. How you let me be selfish when I need to be

4. You always try to make me feel better when I'm down

5. You're okay with being a bit whipped

[we-are-all-of-legend-now]

Not a prompt from the list. Duke confronts Jake about the affair. Set post Duke and Rose's divorce.

Doesn't have to be from the list! That being said, I don't have any prompts "pending" so if you want to flood me with ideas (any!) I'm down. I like to write in my downtime at work

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, author has had some drinks, swears

Jake shouldn't have been surprised when he was punched in the nose. Matter of fact, he saw it coming, and he let it happen, because it was Duke Eloi and if there was anyone who deserved a cheap shot, it was him.

Jake recovered quickly, tilting his head forward and cupping a tea towel to his nose. He was "covering" for Fu at Gramps' electronic shop, although they still hadn't a customer nor a sale, and it didn't matter what happened here.

"I would hit you again," Duke admitted, "but I'm not that man. I don't even want to be the man who hits you once."

Duke was taller than Jake, and Jake had to tilt his head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye. He knew so much about Duke - he grew up in the swamps of Louisiana, he loved 60's music, he bled red. For everything, Jake had never looked him in the eye and exchanged a word. Duke didn't know of the supernatural, of past lives, of soulmates. Duke couldn't possibly understand that, although Rose had a billion choices, once she and Jake had come face to face in a bar, there was no other option.

"You did hit me," Jake said, because, at the end of the day, his mouth ran faster than his brain.

"She wants you. She picked you. While we were even married, she picked you. What is so special about you?"

On the surface, Jake had nothing in common with Duke. Jake heavily favoured his Chinese heritage, was slim and short because of it, with dyed hair and three visible piercings. Duke was tall and dark-skinned, his drawl of growing up around Creole French a part of his personality, his muscles in the face of everyone who looked. Rose had said that Duke had never punched anyone, that he worked out to look good and to be able to carry whatever piece of furniture she fell in love with without help.

"Do you even know who I am?" Duke asked, and Jake realized he'd been in one place for too long.

"Yeah," Jake said, "I know you."

He wondered how well Duke knew him. Probably not at all. Rose had only filed for divorce a shot time ago. He had been a secret until she packed her bags.

"And, there's nothing special about me."

Jake wondered if it would be easier, or harder, on the man, to understand why he'd lost his love. Jake had understood every step of the way and he'd been able to contain his agony to one day a year. But, if he never understood, would the pain ever stop?

"You were together when Rose and I were married."

Jake was very aware of how big Duke's hands were.

"It wasn't the intention." Jake would never be so flowery in every day life but Rose had kept Duke in the dark for a reason and he didn't want to explain to Duke what everything meant. "Our souls knew each other, man. This might hurt more, but it wasn't about you. You never factored into it. She saw me, okay? She saw me across a bar and we couldn't stop. She thought about you, after, but ... Fuck ..."

"But what?" Duke demanded, his cheeks going even dark with anger. "You didn't care that she was someone's wife?"

"She didn't!" Jake yelled. "And, if you want the full and honest truth, you're a better man. You're the stereotype every woman in this city dreams of and I don't know why you're on the other side of this. If it makes you feel better, I love her. I want her to be happy."

Duke growled and got into Jake's face. "She made me good. She made me happy. You don't deserve love - neither of you. I want to be the better man but if the shoe was on your foot, I would have walked away the second I knew she was married. You're scum and I hope that haunts you for your entire relationship. You don't deserve to be happy."

And Jake didn't stop it when Duke punched him again.

#brea answers things #anonymous #american dragon jake long #jake long #adjl rose #rose adjl #jake/rose #duke/rose #duke eloi #duke universe #american dragon #adjl #writing #my fanfiction #the last lette #disney

[enbde]

seventeen + love languages

S.Coups - Full body physical contact. Chokeslams you into bed and complains if there is a single square inch of your skin not touching his. 

Jeonghan - Bitching and complaining. 

Joshua - A fat wallet. He is supported and loved by cash money, honey. No financial independence and ability to survive off of the interest you make on reliable investments? Keep it pushing. You ask him what his sign is and he says $. 

Jun - Communicates his love in a language that is only intelligible in the far reaches of the galaxy (aka wingdings).

Hoshi - He’s on a mission to collect all love languages possible. Next up: gift giving. But he’s just gonna give you stuff he likes. So get ready for a flood of tiger print négligée and cheap bottles of soju. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll also buy you dinner one day, but you’re gonna have to wear that Ed Hardy t-shirt he found on eBay. Sorry.  

Wonwoo - I hope you get really good at reading vibes. Cause that’s the only way he communicates. Or through X-Box Live chatrooms. 

Woozi - Quality time alone by himself where you just slip little notes under the crack of the door and he sometimes lets your fingertips graze. He sends you a text once every three days to let you know you’re on his ‘good’ list still. 

DK - Love is his language. He speaks in hearts and flowers and little letters tucked delicately into the folds of your clothes. His eyes sparkle and shine with the unsaid words of a thousand years of nothing but love, love, love. That is until he gets one single whiff of you not reciprocating in exactly the way he desires you to and then oh boy are you in for it. Oh boy are you in for the cold shoulder of a lifetime. Oh boy are you ever gonna need to buy him a massive cake and leap out of it and tell him he’s the only man in existence and how could you ever slight him. He calms down after that and it’s back to the 24/7 love fest. Make sure you hydrate. 

Mingyu - Acts of Service. Serves you a five course meal and then expects you to service him in every other way imaginable (mostly back rubs, he’s tired and sore). If it gets to be too much you can always serve him with divorce papers. 

The8 - Meditated so hard that he lost all ability to feel a human level of affectionate love towards anyone so if you want to pull him out of this, you’re gonna have to meet him on his level through a three-week intensive spiritual bootcamp where he basically just kicks your ass and through a careful assault on your personality, breaks down your ego to the size of a slivered almond. So like, quality time, I guess?

Seungkwan - What is love? Baby don’t hurt me. 

Vernon - He’s multilingual. 

Dino - Thrusting and uniform hip action. Tango. Shuffling. Moving in a rhythmic fashion to a coordinated set of beats and melodies. Danceology. Slutology. Interpretive dancing where the only interpretation could be that he wants to fuck. Basically, he’s horny and restless and craves physical touch. 

#svt #seventeen #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seungcheol scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #mingyu scenarios #hoshi scenarios #dino scenarios #minghao scenarios #dokyeom scenarios #woozi scenarios #jeonghan scenarios

[jeoniius]

Next Life | kth (m)

☆ summary:  Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader

☆ genre: angst, smut.

☆ warning: sexual content, angst

☆ word count: 4k

☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.

Love. Hate. 

It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out. 

You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window. 

You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it. 

You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.

As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.

Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him. 

And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.

7 months ago

“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind. 

“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.

“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.” 

“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back. 

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down. 

“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back. 

“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him. 

“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest. 

He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind. 

Kim Taehyung. 

The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it. 

Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.

You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.  

You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward. 

You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line. 

The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally). 

You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact. 

Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.

Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys. 

He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him. 

But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay. 

The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York. 

You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex,  just lots of sex to be exact. 

But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.

You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.  

But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.

Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened. 

Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.

The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.

Tae: where are you?

Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid. 

Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?

Tae: baby, you’re scaring me. 

Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence. 

A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom. 

You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong? 

You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall. 

You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck. 

“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him. 

“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.” 

He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.

Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.

He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’

A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside. 

That was the first mistake. 

“I love you so much,” you said. 

You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong. 

4 months ago

Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.

“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea. 

Tea. 

You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you. 

“And then what? Get into another fight?” 

“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.

What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there. 

You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes. 

“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.

Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room. 

You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you. 

Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together. 

As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.

And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.” 

“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.

“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.

“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.

“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?” 

“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly. 

“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.

You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything. 

All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with. 

That was the second mistake. 

“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”

“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.” 

“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed. 

“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside. 

You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried. 

Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried. 

Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.

That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was. 

And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted. 

2 months ago

“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled. 

“What are you talking about?” he looked curious. 

“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.” 

“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes. 

“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly. 

“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight. 

“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house. 

The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned. 

As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded. 

Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.” 

You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?” 

He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything. 

You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.  

You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook. 

Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?” 

You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on. 

“Y/N-”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,

You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?” 

“I don’t mean that.”

“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face. 

“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.” 

“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off. 

That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.

It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.

You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am

You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.

You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory. 

Soon the judge walked in and the process went on. 

At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it. 

But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason. 

Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love. 

As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.

And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less. 

Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night. 

taglist: @mwitsmejk​

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fic #bangtan #kim taehyung #kim taehyung angst #taehyung angst #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #husband taehyung #divorce au #btsau #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #bts kim taehyung #kth smut #kth x reader #kth angst #angst #btsangstff #btswritersclub

[diedbutterflies69]

Will you stay?- Bang Chan imagine.

Contains: friends to lovers au. , Divorce, smut, fluff, blindfolding, oral sex, explicit sexual stuff etc . Minors don't interact.

Never once on your life, you thought you could get your shit together and laugh genuinely at the worst in world. falling out of love is worse but it's even more worse if it's your it's not you who fell out of love. Married at 22 and the honeymoon phase hardly lasted for a year and by the age of 26 got yourself labelled as a woman who sabotaged her own marriage in thirst of money. Your ex husband was bitter about your success even before you got married. He thought as a woman, you just did bare minimum and got yourself a high positioned rank by sleeping with one of the rich rags. You tried hard enough to hold on to that rotten red string , but he had the scissors and just cut you off. You weren't willing to sacrifice your career just because of his Immature mindset, yes you loved him, but can't a women love her own hard achieved success more? That's the question you wished to ask everyone who pointed there fingers at you. After divorce you didn't feel pain just numbness. Your self-hatred coming more stronger than ever, even hating the job, you tried Saving since years, getting life on track seemed impossible and at the end just quitted. Moved out of the city just to move back to your home town, the root of your real pain. It wasn't really a town but rather a more flashy city, expensive shits which you were unable to afford in childhood but now it wasn't any big deal. Earth is round and sometimes precious people find you all by themselves. Your highschool friend, the only friend you had throughout your lifetime because of your anti social tactics.

Bang Chan, the social butterfly who almost knew every single student in whole school, he was the hottest guy you ever saw in your life and also the kindest. You had crush on him even before you both were friends, he was your senior,used to help you with those shitty math sums, crack jokes every now and then and scolded you whenever you procrastinated. He came to congratulate you even on your graduation day, even though there were many more students whom he met you were still glad atleast someone bought you a beautiful bouquet of tulips and bellflower. The last time you saw him was before you moved out in search of cheap collages without informing him, as you thought you were just one of many friends he had and won't ever notice someone like you existed.

But god, how much wrong you were.

You met Chan after almost 9 years in convince store and his reaction was almost priceless , like finding treasure. He was now more handsome, beautiful and god-like even after all this years his style of dressing didn't Changed much, he still looked like Kim Kardashian at 2021 met Gala. nevertheless his smile still had those healing properties with his Cresent moon eyes. He was absolutely stunning.

The first sentence he spoke after confirming your identity was 'I missed you' and then tons of lectures and questions . Knowing how narrow-minded you were he gasped dramatically. Cheesiest ways of saying how could I forget my best friend and so on. That day was probably the best day of your life and maybe even the day after years you really smiled. You both exchanged numbers and addresses and his home was just 10 minutes away from yours. Destiny indeed.

Now it's been over 7 months since you met Chan again and he never made you felt like you were just one of his 109 friends. Chan made you feel special, after knowing what kind of disaster you faced he was even more supporting of you, you both used to spend weekend together watching variety of shows and movies going to stargazing, best friend goals. After many years you knew even if Chan had many people to confide with he never really did. He was alone, just a night owl obsessed with work. You were happy. And he was happy too. Being just friends was enough for you, but not for him . He was slowly trying to find courage to confess his love to you. He liked you fuck from highschool days. He found you once randomly staring at him across the room and when you suddenly disappeared all his fantasies were scattered, he knew your dreams and was willing to help you with your every step. knowing how messed up your household was from your neighbours he felt guilty for not being able to give you happiness. He loved you, but was helded by his own insecurities.

Not anymore though, he wasn't the same coward who just stared at the love of his life from distance. Being the extra human he was, he bought you one of the most expensive restaurant of the whole country, man was loaded. After driving for almost 5 hours you both finally reached there .

Now a nervous Chan sitting infront of you. You being oblivious to the fact that he has a beautiful diamond ring and a confession to make. Chan handed you the menu card and every single dish had an extraordinary name, without much thought you placed the order.

"atleast tell me now, why are we here?" You asked the man infront of you who was behaving extra weird today, he looked sick and was occassionally asking you random questions.

"No reason, I was in mood for long drives and... You know have a nice meal" Chan said fidgeting with his fingers he was acting like a flustered high school guy it was clearly indicating that he was lying but you didn't really care, Chan was weird sometimes.

"Sounds fake, but okay. By the way you aren't sick right?" You asked Chan out of pure concern as he was sweating profusely even in an cold AC room.

"I am fine, just feeling a little hot. Don't worry", Chan said it was more like he was convincing himself that he was fine and shouldn't worry. He wasn't a teenager but a human with responsibilities who once again fell for someone out of his league, he used to think that and he still sees you as a literal goddess. While he was lost deep in his thoughts, the waiter came with food , and this was his opportunity to shoot his arrow. You both started eating and talked like being in paradise.

"did you liked anyone in highschool?", Chan asked you out of blue making you almost choke on food. The only person whom you liked throughout your highschool days was the guy sitting infront of you and you didn't really remembered much guys and the best answer was probably saying a lie with little truth.

"no one lol", you answered trying to sound chilled but since highschool crush topic was out you weren't able to keep your curiosity with yourself.

"What about you, liked someone?", You asked trying to sound nonchalant and not desperate and bitter.

This was the Exactly the conversation that Chan planned in his mind. And here started his way to either heaven or pit of rejection.

"I loved someone", Chan said and you this time you really choked from the depth of your heart, you thought Chan was anti romantic type of guy as he never talked about of his female friends with you or bragged about his non existent dating life. Trying again to not sound jealous or bitter you spoke again.

" Who was that lucky bit-- I mean girl yes girl? Who was she?", You asked, almost letting out the bitch loudly. You weren't sure but you saw Chan smiling cheekily, he was really getting old acting weird more and more everyday.

"Well... Someone from our school",Chan said and you swear you didn't made a disgusting face showing pure jealousy. The best human in your life and your first ever crush had crush on somebody, you didn't knew why you were feeling so fucking bitter but you weren't able to handle the curiosity anymore.

"Tell me her damn name", you asked Chan in a frustrating tone not being able to keep jealousy to yourself.

"Why you being angry", Chan asked followed by his small laugh.

"I am angry, just the food was a little spicy you answer me now, her name?", You answered Chan with your defenses up and still sticking with your previous question.

Chan in response got a little serious now,you thought he was being childish now, he wasn't a kid who was given a dare to name out his crush yet he was acting like one.

"You won't leave me right, I mean after I answer your question?", Chan asked you and you didn't knew what to say in response you were now a little sus about him.

"fine don't answer, keep secrets", you said and continued eating. The next thing Chan said made you now choke and die on food.

"I loved you and I still love you" Chan said looking down at the table head hanging down like his teenage self just confessed he watched porn infront of his parents. You were shocked, frozen and the your heartbeat 10x faster, you didn't knew how to react and tried to find humor in this extraordinary situation.

"Chan, you kidding right?", You asked Chan with a nervous smile on your face. Chan looked up at you , his eyes trying to find yours but you avoided the eye contact.

"I am serious, I liked you from HighSchool times, I saw you for the first time in library when you were looking at me, I swear you were so beautiful and even now after all this years after seeing you I can't, I can't help but fall for you all over again, sorry"

Chan confessed, his voice filled with sincerity and vulnerability his sentences were scattered here and there and incomplete explanation but still you understood everything he really poured his heart to you, you felt like crying even if you both weren't such stupid cowards back then, then today you won't have turned out a divorced women and Chan a guy who grew out lonely even if he had a world for him.

"What should I say Chan?", You asked Chan you were sounding like a girl whose bf told her to breakup even if the situation was exact opposite. Even if you love Chan , you didn't think about him reciprocating same feelings back to you. You were beyond insecure with your love emotions. One thing was sure you won't be able to love Chan without being a bundle on him. Your emotion Baggage was too big and you didn't want Chan to get his heart too with your stupid emotions.

"I love you and I will be really really good to you. Please try staying with me I will try really hard to earn space in your heart, please?" His confession was like literally begging. You weren't able to believe if he was real or not, if it was a dream that will end as soon as cruel morning comes, this felt like fantasy. Chan was a amazing man, he had everything money ,honour ,beauty a nice heart. He was like a character written by women so perfect so delicate yet strong, and he loves you this fact was enough for to lose your mind. but you thought you were a taint to his beauty, you were a character full of inferior complexes and a person too easy to dislike thats what illusion you made about yourself. A random extra in her own story.

"I will pay the bill, let's talk later", you said and walked away immediately to pay the bill leaving a clueless and disheartened human behind. Chan was able to see how you stopped yourself from saying love you too and throwing yourself in his arms. He wasn't same from HighSchool a guy who gets overwhelmed by his own emotions and gets unable to see others. He knew you had atleast a small space for him in your heart and to make a big room for himself he had to throw out all your insecurities and self hatred. He followed you like a lost puppy and he wanted to pay for food but you already did and now you were already out of restaurant searching for his car to get back.

Chan sitted beside you, without doing anything silence and awkward air surrounding you both.

"start the car", you said breaking down the silence, you were extremely worthless and trash as you made the only one person whom you love feel like nothing.

"Just answer me, will you try dating me please", Chan said his voice again passing draggers into your heart. Trying to form any logical explanation you spoke again.

"I am not looking for relationship right now, see Chan you are amazing, but I can't make you happy now and did you forgot that I am divorced, please understand" you said expressing your real insecurities and fear, fear of not being able to keep a man happy.

"you don't want relationship because you divorced that fucking trash of a man?", Chan asked he was getting frustrated you thought but he just wanted to make you happy and not deny what your heart wants.

"my mind isn't stable, I might just irritate you everytime with my mood, you will will get tired of me and leave me -- I don't want to be alone again I will die if you leave me", you confessed tears threatening to fall out of your eyes there wasn't any doubt that you loved Chan he filled the void in you in just months made you happy but you didn't wanted to just take and take and give nothing in return. Chan's hand found yours interlocking your fingers with so much delicateness that you might cry.

"you think so low of me, just stay by my side I will make you so happy that you will hardly get time to think about your past, trust me", Chan said his fingers slightly lifting your chin up to look into your eyes, you looked in his eyes filled with so much care and this was your last straw before breaking down in his arms.

"I love you, I love you so fuckin much, you were my first love my only friend, my everything, please-- please love me", you confessed tightening your arms around Chan, his scent making you feel safe and like home, his one caressing your hair and other wiping away the tears. Even though the scene was more like a dramatic clique scene whatever emotions you both felt was unexplainable.

"So you my girlfriend now hmm?"Chan asked you for first time in night his voice containing pure happiness and excitement.

"I have a sexy boyfriend", you said smiling from ear to ear against Chan's chest. The label boyfriend making your heart flutter, you didn't knew happiness like this can even exist.

"My love", Chan said his voice sweeter than honey, suddenly the night was more starry."now can we go home?" You asked Chan finally breaking the hug, reality hitted you now Home was 3- 4 hours away.

"I made a reservation in hotel, we gonna spend night there", Chan casually said making your heart jump out of your chest.

"pervert, you planned everything seriously", you said dramatically and giving him a playful digusting look.

"I booked two rooms", Chan said now starting the engine making you feel embarrassed. "Who is pervert now~" Chan said in air teasing you more.

The rest of the ride you both talked about anything and everything. Confessing how you used to find ways to always be in each others vision etc. Both of you finding a new thirsty side of each other. Nothing felt uncomfortable, it was happiness those inhumane laughs crazy tricks you both used to pull everything was heaven. After some time you both reached infront of a gaint hotel , it looked expensive af but regardless Chan knew how to waste money and you were tired of lecturing him about savings.

"let's go", Chan said removing your seatbelt and getting out of car to open the door for ya. He was being so cheesy gentleman and you were enjoying every minute.

"room 42 and 43" Chan said to the receptionist and she handed two keys to him. Thanking her then getting on elevator, you were a little disappointed that you weren't sharing room with Chan, yes you were pervert and total simp for Chan, he was too hot and your sexual drive was getting higher each passing second. The elevator doors opened and you got off. Chan handed you the room key and softly kissed your forehead, both you wished it was your lips.

"if you want anything, just knock okay?" Chan said in his lovely tone, I want you you internally screamed, nevertheless you gave him a nod and got inside that expensive room .

Starring at the ceiling while lying on the bed your mind was full of Chan, you knew he wasn't probably sleeping and was wasting time in watching random shit on internet and you were hungry, hungry for Chan, it wasn't your fault that Chan was so hot. Trying to fall asleep and fidgeting here to there you finally decided to knock on Chan's room door. A danger zone. You noticed how the door flunged open in less than few seconds.

"Hi" you said scratching back of your head and trying to think what next to say.

"Hi..?"Chan said being confused.

"there is cockroach in my room, let me stay with you" you said a clear white lie. Taking impulsive action were never good for you.Chan sighed before opening the door fully and signalling you to come. This was your happiest day ever.

"whY you lying", Chan asked you as you plopped yourself on sofa besides bed. He asked the sentence in a sarcastic way.

"Do you you wanna kiss me?", You asked Chan with a straight serious face catching him off-guard, you didn't wanted to waste more time, you wanted to do everything with Chan, yes fucking on first day of dating was a little too early but you fantasized about this gorgeous man since ages, in your eyes he looked total dom but his reaction to your question was making you doubt your thoughts.

"Are you sure", Chan asked you clearing his throat.

"Are you virgin?"you asked Chan, he was being too nervous.

"Obviously not"Chan answered you in duh tone, rolling his eyes. And it was getting awkward.

"The cockroach must have gone by now I should go, bye", you blabbered and got up ready to leave, you were about to open the door but Chan grabbed your hand and before you knew anything his hands were on your cheeks cupping them softly and his lips so close to yours, Chan's eyes were looking straight in your orbs , your heartbeat stronger than ever.

"Can I?", Chan asked your consent his thumb softly brushing against your lower lip. This man had totally made you insane, something stirred inside you. Chan was perfect he was everything you wished. You gave him a small nod and slowly his lips touched against yours, you wanted to cry, his lips felt so good, he didn't rushed his movements everything was happening in slow motion, he holded you with such a vulnerability like he was afraid that you will go, your hand reached his head, fingers moving through his soft locks. You felt his tongue inside your mouth , you felt a electricity run down your body when the kiss deepened.

We kiss again. The next kiss is the kind that breaks open the sky. It steals my breath and gives it back. It shows me that every other kiss I’ve had in my life has been wrong.

Breaking the kiss Reluctantly in need of air, Chan rested his forehead against yours. He was hot almost like burning, sweating.

"Why are you so nervous, Chan?", You asked Chan hugging him tightly clinging like the last leaf to the tree.

"I am scared, I just love you", He said engulfing you in his arms. And you Finally felt, what real love feels like.

"Love you too", you replied softly.

"Do you wanna continue..?"Chan asked you his tone little less scared.

"Off course", you said looking at him with smile, something inside you told it was okay to let out your freaky side infront of Chan. Chan smiled back and suddenly turned you around , the large bed infront of you.

"Lie down there",Chan whispered in your ears , his low register sending shivers down your spine. This was exactly how you pictured Chan to be, your inner submissive almost died. You followed Chan's word and laid on your back on the bed, now you were feeling like a virgin. His eyes roaming through the room in search of something.

"Are you okay with being blindfolded?", Chan asked you as he came back with the tie he wore today and was rolling it slightly in his palms, and you swear you never saw a man so hot in your entire life. Getting blindfolded was one of your unfulfilled kinks.

"ye- yes", you replied your tone filled with thrill and excitement. Chan came back to you standing near you, his hand softly cupped your cheeks , before bringing the tie to use it in sinistrous way tonight. The cloth felt strange to your eyes, his cologne smell hitting you and Chan caught your shy smile, His heart felt so fluffy. Tieing a comfortable knot Chan sat on bed near your waist. His hands slowly crept near your stomach leaving a direct lingering touch on the sensitive skin, eventually going upwards while giving a little squeeze to add stimulation, his hands reached your boobs, you didn't wore bra, and he wasn't surprised maybe your nipples perked up enough to get noticed, his middle and index finger Rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves, the blindfold making his every touch more intense, your breath was heavy you let out a suprised moan when Chan gropped your right boob in an erotic way, this sole action increasing your wetness down there you were getting impatient. You moaned his name a little loudly when his lips came in contact with your sensitive neck, sucking in a painful way, inorder to leave a hickey.

"Should I touch you here", Chan asked you as his hand reached to your area where you needed him to the most, hands going directly inside your panties ,but not touching he was a teaser.

"yes please", you moaned almost breathlessly too tired of intense foreplay. You just wanted Chan to rip off your clothes and fuck you till sunrise. Getting satisfaction with your answer Chan finally removed every clothing of your lower body, leaving you completely bare, all at his mercy. His finger moved up and down on your opening , the wetness making Chan easily slip his one finger deep inside you.

" my baby is so wet, because of who?", Chan asked you as his finger was moving slowly inside of you and thumb rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves.

"because of.. you", you admitted without any hesitation trying to grind yourself on his hand, begging for more.

"Good", Chan said and without saying anything he added another finger inside you moving a little faster inside your cunt, rubbing your walls with a little pressure, scissoring them inside you painfully and making way for a third finger too and by then you were a complete moaning mess, his fingers were pleasure yet torture the blindfold making your senses weak. Mind full of whatever Cham was giving you. Your legs were shaking sign of your orgasm approaching you, by one hand Chan holded your thighs tightly to their place fingers now moving more faster to make you reach the peak of pleasure.

"Chan.. I--I-I-- wanna cum please", you moaned your little squeaks and begs almost making Chan's cock cum right inside boxers. With some final thrust of his fingers, you cummed the hardest you could imagine, squeaky sounds coming as Chan was fingering you through your orgasm, you almost crying from overstimulation. Moaning his name like a chant.

"you did well",Chan praised you finally removing his fingers from you leaving you empty, but it won't have last wrong. Chan removed your blindfold , the bright lights hurting your eyes, you adjusted your vision and the image of Chan sucking his wet fingers coated with your liquid came directly in front of your eyes. Letting out a helpless whine.

Chan plopped himself on knees on either side of your thighs, finally letting his cock out, leaking with precum, and he was big, thick , you didn't thought he could get even hotter.

"Ready baby?", Chan asked you as he fully undressed himself as well as removing your top, your mind hazey . The scene which you pictured since highschool finally happening.

"yes", you replied Chan, he came down to kiss you passionately and slowly entering inside you. You moaned painfully, tears pulling your vision, it was a painful pleasure. Chan kissed away your tears and hand interlocking with yours after finally being fully inside you he started to move at slow pace.

"you feel so good Chan", almost screaming from pleasure, your whines were fuel to Chan's ego and he increased the pace. Body slapping sound filling the room, his groans were most sexy thing you ever heard. Again and again his tip hitting your deepest spots.

"I am close", you moaned out breathlessly, pleasure becaming too much to handle .you released around his cock, reaching the peak second time at night.

After giving a few more thrusts Chan cummed at your stomach, he was still sane enough to not curse you with kids while being lost in pleasure."I love you", he said as he settled beside you hugging you tightly. This was heaven.

"love you too", you said , your voice a little hoarse.

"by the way I forgot that I bought a ring to propose you", Chan said, realisation hitting him, that he forgot to say the long ass paragraph that he was supposed to say while sitting on one knee. You smiled at his guilty face.

"don't worry, propose me after having shower", you said heart filled with pure joy and happiness . Happiness of knowing that You love someone who will always love you back.

#skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #bangchan smut #skz chan smut #bang chan imagines #chan fluff #bangchan #skz chan x reader

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 27

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

List of OCs

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: It's the first day of school!

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings:

Benji laughs gently pushing his nephew. Caspian rolled his eyes shoving his uncle right back.

"So kid you dating anyone?" He asks as the pair sits in the kitchen eating breakfast.

"No but I met this girl at the beginning of the summer... And I kinda like her." He says shyly.

"Ooh. My little nephew is growing up." Benji teases. Caspian looks down at his cereal.

"Yeah."

"Good morning." Jace says walking into the kitchen.

"Ooh look at you looking snazzy for the first day of school." Benjamin smiles. "I made breakfast, by made breakfast I got the cereal and milk out."

"Where's mom?" Jace asks going to the counter and beginning to pour cinnamon toast crunch.

"She's getting ready for work, I offered to make you a nutritional breakfast. I lied though."

"Oh." Jace giggles as he sits next to his brother.

"So Jace ready for you last year of elementary school?" Caspian asks his younger brother.

"Yeah!" Jace nods smiling. He was super excited for his last year of elementary school, and even spent a week picking out the perfect outfit. Which was a button up, unbuttoned over a white T-shirt with some jeans and his brand new shoes. Which were cheap Walmart ones but he thought they looked cool. Besides you preferred not to pay more then 10 dollars for shoes they'll get filthy and grow out of in a month. You're also not exactly rich since you raised them on military pay and your job doesn't pay much better then the Army does. Also military housing was free and well this house isn't free.

"I'm ready!" Connor says walking into the kitchen.

"Alright get yourself some cereal." Ben smiles.

"Okay." You walk into the kitchen.

"Hey kids ready for the first day of school?" You ask smiling.

"Yeah!" Caspian says smiling.

"Sure." Jace shrugs.

"Yeah! I can't wait to see me friends!" Connor tells you happily.

———

Chris grins proudly looking at June's hair. You have been teaching him how to do hair. He can proudly say he knows how to do Dutch braids. She smiles in the mirror.

"I look so pretty!" She says ecstatically. Chris smile grows.

"Yes you do Lovebug," Chris says, "you're the prettiest girl in the world."

"Thank you daddy!"

"Alright you ready for your first day?" He asks lifting her onto his hip.

"Yeah!" June smiles.

"Okay lets head outside, I think the boys wanted to walk to the bus stop with you!" Chris says happily as he carefully walks down the stairs, dodger following close behind.

"Yay! I'm gonna show them my dress!"

"They're gonna love your dress."

Once down stairs Chris sets her down and helps her get her backpack on. Then he hooks Dodger's leash on him. The father daughter duo then head outside. Chris gets a photo of her just before you and the boys make it over with Ben. Chris isn't too sure if he won over the younger man but he hopes so.

"Hey Chris!" Caspian smiles.

"Hey guys one sec let me get one more photo, my mom is gonna want photos of June on her first day of school." He looks at them briefly with a smile being getting one more photo of her.

"I want a photo with the boys too!" June insists.

"Boys?" Chris looks back at the three boys but they were already walking over to the door. Caspian's behind June squatting a bit, then his brothers are stood next to her. Chris takes the photo with a smile as dodger greets you and Ben.

"I love your dress." Caspian compliments June.

"Thank you!" She does a twirl showing off the full dress. "It has a unicorn!"

"That's super cool I wish my shirt had a unicorn on it it." Connor tells her. Chris smiles.

"It's okay, your shirt still cool but not as cool as mine." June states.

"Well kids we should get going or you'll miss the bus."

"Okay!"

"Caspian can I sit with you on the bus?" June ask.

"Sorry Duckling I'm not gonna be on your bus, Maybe Jace or Connor will sit next to you?"

"I'll sit next to you June!" Connor says happily.

"Okay!"

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @stillthatbetch @queenofthepouges @dontbescaredtosingalong @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @food8me @cedricdiggorysimpp @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan @lharrietg @liecastillo @denisemarieangelina @wisepeanutlady @unicornblueberry @stitchattacks @milacolibri @spooky-stoner @marvelmenwhore @saahmi @boldlypessimistic @freakyevanss @asuni921 @srhxpci @supriseeshawtyy @nova10711 @nik2write @blueeyeddemon1016 @happinessinthebeing @winterberryfox @sunwardsss @ellerosie2332 @the-photo-hoe @tanyaherondale @hollzo-03 @xuxszx @patzammit @dakotazzzzz @scarletmeii @janaev4ns @channiechanchan @hibernocaledonian

[michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover]

Hello :) I saw that your requests were open so i’m taking the chance now but if they aren’t feel free to ignore this by all means!!

William with a child who’s normally really quiet and shy that has been holding in everything and when they eventually can’t anymore they just scream and cry and break just a bunch of things and he kinda just lets them because he knows how much they need this? and he lets them take as much anger out that they need on him if they have to and when they finally pass out from exhaustion he just brings them to their bed?

Sorry if this is a weird as i just thought it was a nice idea :) if you’re uncomfortable with this ask due tell me.

That's it. You guys keep sending me painful asks so this is what you get>:(/lh

Smile for the Picture

-(Dad!William Afton and Afton kid!reader)-

-(Summary: the ask, eel oh eel)-

-(TW: mentions of child death and missing sibling, underaged drug use, divorce/split parents, slight religious mention)-

-(I know Crying Child doesn't have a canon name, so please pretend his name is Evan for sake of the fic. Also, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I don't wanna fix that rn🤩)-

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Everything was getting to be too much.

Your younger brother, Evan, had died last year. The devastation of his death still haunted you daily, and you had frequent nightmares about the incident. Your sister Elizabeth was still missing, probably dead in a ditch on the side of the road in some place only God knew of. Your older brother Michael was constantly high, never making time for you. Any time he did try to, he smelled like weed and was completely out of it. His eyes were always red and watery, a tired, melancholy smile sometimes gracing his face.

You wanted to slap the shit out of him just thinking about it. It wasn't fair that he got to forget his problems all the time. It was his fault Evan was dead. His fault that you and your father went to see Evan's grave once a month instead of being able to see Evan whenever you wanted to.

Speaking of your father, it felt like he was never there either. He went to work early in the morning and came home late at night, sometimes completely forgetting that you and Michael even existed and spending days at his job instead of home with his children where he needed to be.

You both needed him. Of course, Michael had given up hope that your father would come back home and give two shits very early on.

"Eventually he'll turn out just like Mom and up and fucking leave us for some big city life in New York or some shit. Here, come take a hit, it'll make you feel better."

Michael was a dumb 16 year old, but maybe you were an even dumber 15 year old.

You were just so mad and so tired. You never let anyone know that you were mad or tired or anything. It would just cause more problems for everyone you knew.

Stomping down the stairs, you went to grab a glass of water. You let yourself fumble with the tap as you waited for the glass to fill. You had just woken up from a dream about your father leaving you and your brother. Just like your mother had. You didn't want him to leave, but he kept spending more and more time away from you. What if Michael was right?

Emptying the glass, you set it gingerly on the counter, debating on filling it again. You stared at it for a while, as if it would make all your problems go away. As if the glass could make your sister return home. The small 7-year-old, would have to be around the age of 10, by now. As if the glass could make your mother return to you, make her come home and return to smothering you all in her love and warm gestures, instead of modeling and drinking wine with strange men in New York. As if the glass could make your older brother stop going to bonfire parties with his friends, only to come home at the ass crack of dawn, smelling like weed, cheap beer, and cigarettes. As if the glass could make your father love his family more than his business.

The thoughts enraged you, causing you to raise the cup over your head and throw it to the ground as hard as you could. The tempered glass shaped into a cup shattered easily, scattering a million tiny shards all over the floor.

That wasn't enough. You were still so fucking mad. As you began to pull dishes of all types out of the cupboards in which they were stored, you didn't notice your father's mauve Mercedes pull into the driveway.

You continued your rampage of blind rage, knocking over end tables, chairs, coat racks, shoe racks, and anything else that was in your way. It wasn't until you had accidentally broken the picture frame of the last sibling photo with all of you in it that you came back to your senses.

The summer of '81, when your family had taken a trip down to California. The picture was taken at Santa Monica Pier by your father, and you vividly remember him and your mother making silly faces at the four of you to get you all to pay attention to the camera. The best part of it, though, were the contents of the photo itself. It featured Evan sitting on your hip, eyes watery from lightly crying about the roller coaster Michael had made him go on. He made a brave face for the camera, laughing at both the silly faces of your parents and the kisses you had bombarded his forehead with. The then 9-year-old was small for his age, very short and seemingly malnourished compared to the other kids in his class. But he was happy, usually playing by himself anyways. Michael, being the rambunctious 13-year-old he was, held your 7-year-old sister on his shoulders, was sticking his tongue out at the camera and crossing his eyes. Elizabeth laughed from her seat on Michael's growing bones, head thrown back, a large smile evident on her face.

She had gone missing three months later. Then Evan had died two years after that, and now everything was shit. Complete and utter shit.

"NO, no no! Please, please go back! GO BACK!" you yelled, trying in vain to fix the broken frame.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing with that?"

Your head snapped towards your father's booming voice, tear-streaked face looking up at him from your place on the ground.

"Let go of that, you've hurt yourself! What are you thinking?"

A new fit of rage stormed inside of your heart, a fresh wave of tears clouding your vision.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! All of this is your fault! Lizzie's gone, Evan's dead, Mom fucking left us, and it's all. YOUR. FAULT!"

Your father took light steps towards you, gently dropping to his knees and shrugging off his suit jacket.

He tore off the left sleeve, then ripped it in half, trying to quickly get his hands on a makeshift bandage.

"Come here, come here, you're all right, it's ok. Let me see your hand, please."

"NO! All of this happened because of you. I- I don't know why but it did, and it's all your fault, and it can't ever go back. WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO BACK TO HOW IT WAS? Everything hurts, Dad, I hate this. I hate this, and I hate Mom, and I hate Mike and I hate you too!"

William's felt his heart nearly stop at your words. Things like this were never supposed to happen. You were all supposed to grow, and live long, and be happy, but now his youngest two were dead, and his second eldest was crying themselves to near dehydration near the family sofa.

He pulled you into his arms, and you gave into your exhaustion quickly, loud sobs slowly turning into quiet sniffles. He rocked you gently, petting your head, and shushing you every so often.

Eventually, you passed out from crying. Michael had gotten home from tutoring in that time. Your head hurt and your hand was still bleeding. William carried you to the kitchen first, washing and bandaging your hand before it could be hurt more.

He trudged up the stairs lightly, softly opening the door to Michael's room. Mike had fallen asleep with his head on his desk, pencils digging into his cheek. William placed you gently onto Mike's bed for a moment, shaking Michael awake.

"Hm?" Michael zipped around, dazed.

"Go to sleep, grades can wait."

Mike nodded, flopping down onto the part of his bed not being occupied by you and instantly falling back asleep.

William lifted you again, carrying you back to your own room. Placing you down on your warm duvet, he tucked you in lightly, kissing your forehead and hugging you once again.

You softly hugged him back.

"Goodnight, Dad. I'm sorry I broke so much, and I'm sorry I said I hate you. I don't hate you, I-"

You cut yourself off with a sob, William patting your back once more.

"Just go to sleep for now, Sweet Pea, we'll work all this out in the morning."

You nod tiredly, laying back down and turning away.

William stood, flicking the light switch off and closing your door.

He had a lot of cleaning to do.

(sorry this is so long. Also, since I've gotten so many angsty requests, you guys finally get angst. This is my first time writing angst tho, so please be nice, ok bye!)

#michael afton #william afton #dave miller #mike schmidt #fnaf fanfiction #lol this hurt to write