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junghelioseok · 8 months

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miss taken.

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

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

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

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

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

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

Silence has never sounded louder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”

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

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

Better luck next time ;)

“That prick.”

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

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

Game on, mister.

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”

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

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

You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? You’ve got to say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It smells in here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up. “Yes?”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. "What?"

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

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

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

You didn’t. “Really?”

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d rather not.”

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

“Stored in my closet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims.

Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

“You wiped that part of the counter already.”

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

“Bug, can you set the table?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:

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

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

[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”

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

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

Hope you have a mug-nificient day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

///

“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cheers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)

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

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

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sanccharine · 4 months

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

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milkydough · 7 months

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A new au where Ghost and Soap have a kid together but neither of them can remember what happened that night and now they meet by total accident!

#cod mw2 fanart #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #ghost x soap #soapghost #modern warfare ii #kate laswell #captain price #cod nikolai #kyle garrick #Simon Ghost Riley‘s family #single parent au

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larissel · 3 days

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#bg3 #shadowzel #shadowheart #lae'zel #single parent au #i need that single parent au where once shadowheart finally meets lae'zel #she's all like 'okay i get it now'#not saying lae'zel would be a bad parent #bc clearly #she's not #and even in the game it shows she's caring and is raising xan right #wanting him to choose his own path #but she's also young too #so in this au she would be a young single parent as well

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mingigoo · 2 years

Text

Midnight Kisses || j.wy || (m.) || Part One

Part One ⇢ sexy milf

🍓 pairing ⇢ best friend! Wooyoung x single parent! (fem) reader x new flame! San

↳ you weren’t sure how well you could raise your daughter as a single mother, but your best friend, Wooyoung, has been there every step of the way with no strings attached. When you decide that it’s time to try and date again, he realizes too late that his love for you doesn’t just stop at friendship.

🍓genre ⇢ single parent au, bakery au, best friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

🍓 warnings/tags ⇢ this story is 18+, minors dni, talk of death (I’m sorry seonghwa ) relationship trauma, parenting, unrequited love but not at the same time, pining, single parent, loss, learning to love again, wooyoung is a total sass queen, wooyoung as a babysitter/wannabe father, San is a gentleman

🍓word count ⇢ 5.5k

🍓 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @ch0isa99ie @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @wubbster @spiderrenjunfics

Midnight kisses masterlist

nabi / 나비. Meaning: Butterfly

It's the midnight kisses that you miss the most. The way he used to look at you—his eyes threatening you without words. He’d kiss you, you’d kiss him, and then you would fall asleep in the comfort of his embrace.

The thing is, there was no more him.

He was gone. Only a thought in your mind and a still image in pictures. Sometimes you wondered if you imagined the whole thing—as if there wasn't a product of your love right here next to you.

It all felt like a dream and a nightmare collided, and you were in the midst of the wreckage. Similar to a hurricane, you were stuck after the damage, and it was only you. It was all on you to pick up the pieces and build back up from the tethered mess you once called a home.

Your three year old daughter—the product of said love—laid on your bed as if she never got sleep in her entire short life. She looked like him; smiled like him. You didn't think you could ever love again. Three years later, he was still here, but not the way you wanted him to be.

“Nabi,” you shook her shoulder softly, watching her let out a snore. You didn't want to budge her, but it was getting late. She needed to go to bed. “Baby, it’s bedtime, okay?”

Nabi groaned cutely, her pigtails all messed up and stray hairs stranded around her round face. She was only three years young, but had the attitude of someone your age.

She was too cute to move, you couldn't even budge her after she cuddled up into your pillow. “Fine, you can sleep here, again.”

Nabi resembled Seonghwa in more ways than one. Her eyes sparkled just like his, and it used to make you emotional. He never got to meet his daughter before he left, and now, every time you see her eyes sparkle, you smile instead of cry.

Maybe—just maybe—it was time for you to move on.

—

“Here you go, one strawberry cake and a coffee,” you smiled at the customer in front of you, who seemed to ignore your friendliness. “Thank you, please come again!”

The woman took the box of cake from you and walked out without a word.

“Ah, rough day” you sighed, wiping your floury hands onto your beige apron that had some marker stains from your daughter’s creative mind.

The bakery was quiet today. As the day neared it Only a few people were scattered around in the seats, and it reminded you of the time when you first opened. It was a bit after Seonghwa passed, and you just couldn't get his words out of your mind. He always wanted you to live your dreams and open up the bakery you wanted, so of course, that was one of the first things you did.

Just as the silence almost settled, a loud, bellowing voice came from the door as it chimed.

“Yo! y/n, i’m here with the baby,” your best friend hooted, carrying your daughter in his arms. His hair stood out from everything, the light blond streaks complimenting his dark brown hair. “Wanna say hi to mommy?” he looked at your beaming child.

She always loved him.

“Wooyoung,” you breathed, a smile reaching your lips. You looked over at the happy boy you called your best friend, taking notice of his bright smile. “How was she today? Any issues? Did she try to bite you again?”

He walked around the counter, a goofy expression on his features as he set Nabi down.

“C’mon, I don't mind the biting. It's kinda soothing, actually,” he giggled. “Like chicken noodle soup for the soul.”

You swatted him on the shoulder as he giggled at your reaction. He then bent down to Nabi’s height to fix the stray hairs that were in front of your eyes. “Right? There's nothing wrong with a little biting, huh?”

Nabi smiled at Woo, letting out a giggle as she formed her words. “Yes, biting is fun,” she radiated, unable to look away from him. He couldn't look away from her either, and poked her nose playfully.

“That’s right, my butterfly.”

You looked around to see the remainder of people leaving. It was nearing four o’clock—closing time. You let wooyoung play with your daughter while you walked over to the window to flip the open sign to closed.

“I want a cupcake,” Nabi cried out, looking at wooyoung like she couldn't live without it. “Tell mommy to get me the cupcake.”

That’s when you and Woo met eyes. He scoffed at her words, winking at you like his usual flirty self. You had to be careful, though, because you were already certain that Nabi thought Wooyoung was her dad.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. He was the only one that acted like one. It was your own fault for not finding a man suitable enough to fill in seonghwa’s place as a father, but then again, he was never there for the time. You couldn't prevent his accident, so why did you blame yourself for everything?

Wooyoung noticed your distress from across the room.

He always noticed the little things. The type of things you would disregard, he would prioritize.

“y/n,” he called, lifting Nabi up in his arms to walk over to you. He handed her over to you gently, as if she were made of glass. “What’s going on in that crazy head of yours?” he asked, but he knew exactly what it was.

You sighed, but immediately put on a smile for your daughter. “Nothing much, only about getting a cupcake for my sweetie.”

He tilted his head as you spoke, staring at you intently.

His worry was gone, at least visibly, when his lips began to curl up in a smirk. “Oh? So I'm your sweetie now? I’ve been craving your cupcake, you know?” he raised his eyebrows, and once again, you slapped him on the shoulder.

“He wants your cupcake mommy,” Nabi pointed at a devious wooyoung, and you had to hold in your chuckle. You know damn well wooyoung wasn't saying that he wanted a cupcake, it was more code word for something sexual—at least in the woo language. He always said things that made no sense, but it always made you smile.

After getting Nabi’s desired cupcake (and wooyoung’s, too) you began to clean up around the bakery cafe. Since there wasn't much business today, there wasn't much to clean up from. After wiping down the tables while wooyoung sat with Nabi, you finished up everything, only to look over at them.

She was sleeping in his arms, her head leaned up against his chest. Some chocolate was stuck on both woo’s and her lips.

“Look at you too,” you chuckled, walking over to them. Wooyoung smiled at you as you neared, and as you wiped away the chocolate from your daughter’s lips, he didn't expect you to lift your fingers to the corners of his lips. “It’s as if she’s your daughter, you're so similar.”

Time froze for him. His eyes followed yours as his breath got caught in his throat. Maybe it was the way he was holding your sleeping daughter as if she was her own, but his heart pounded as the pads of your fingers brushed against his lips.

“There, you had more chocolate on you than the three year old, dumb ass,” you provoked him.

He took a second to gain back his usual self. Scoffing, he raised his eyebrows at you. “You sure you just didn't want to touch my lips? You could've just asked, baby,” he smirked flirtatiously. You never knew when he was serious.

You rolled your eyes and walked away from them and back to the counter to take out the money from the register. After you finished, you took a peek at your best friend, who was smiling down at your daughter as she snored.

You grinned.

After sliding off your apron and undoing your hair, you had a sudden thought. “Oh shit, I forgot about the boxes.”

Wooyoung’s ears perked up. “Boxes? What boxes?”

You sighed, and bent down the root under the counter where you left the boxes of, well, other boxes. You needed to put all the to-go boxes together by tonight so you had some for tomorrow.

“The to-go boxes. I ran out today and forgot to do them. I’ll have to take them home with me,” you groaned while wooyoung dazed off.

He stood up, fixing his grip on the sleeping butterfly. “How many boxes do you have?” he wondered out loud, walking over to you on the other side of the counter.

You piled four boxes on top of each other. “Um, like four. Five. Actually, it's five.”

“I’ll help you.”

You shook your head, lifting the boxes up onto the counter. “No, it’s fine, woo. I’ll just stay up late.”

He scoffed. “Come on, cupcake. I’ll be super fast at building the boxes. You know how good I am with my hands,” he teased like his usual flirty self.

You were so numb to his antics from being next to each other since middle school. He always flirted with you, but you always assumed it was just how he was—since he flirted with anyone else, man or woman.

After a little debate in your head about accepting help, you sighed, giving in to his charm.

“Fine. Come over then. I’m sure Nabi would be happy.”

—

You met wooyoung on the three hundredth day of the year. The leaves were barren on the trees, all resting on the sidewalks, vulnerable from the footsteps of people who disregarded their death.

He sprinted past you on that day as you walked to school, those very leaves crunching underneath his beat-up sneakers, no school jacket and a t-shirt visible under his uniform. His hair was messy and his mouth was even messier with all that smart talk.

As he ran, he wasn't paying attention. He smacked into you, causing you both to tumble onto the ground. He landed on top of you, scrapes visible on his elbows from the fall. He stared down at you in lovestruck middle-school-ness, lost in the anger of your eyes.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said, still on top of you.

“I should be saying that to you, idiot.”

You told yourself you should hate him. You should, after his rudeness after running you over. But still, your little heart fluttered slightly. You mistook it as a side effect from the shitty breakfast your mother made you, but after that day, Wooyoung became glued to your bruised hip.

—

“Stop, you're doing it wrong.”

“How? It's just a box, how can I be doing it wrong?”

“You do everything wrong.”

You were scolding Wooyoung as he folded the box wrong for the fifth time. He just sat and smiled at your irritation—any reaction from you made him happy. It meant that he had an effect on you in some way, at least.

“You're supposed to fold it the opposite way, dammit.”

Nabi was in the living room of your decent sized apartment—courtesy of Seonghwa's income. He made decent money from the job he had, and left you everything he had. You didn't want the money or anything, you only wanted him back. It’s kind of funny how life works, it never ends up the way you want it.

You heard her giggling at the tv as you put on her favorite idol group. She had a thing for the loud ones.

Maybe that’s why she loves wooyoung so much.

“Is this right?” he asked you softly, and the tone of his voice made you think he was being serious. He did have it right this time, at least.

You nodded, offering him a smile as you finished another box. You were nearly done thanks to Woo’s help, even if it was a bit half-assed. Time moved fast, and it was Nabi’s bedtime already.

“I have to go put Nabi to bed, can you finish them?” you asked him, pointing to the boxes on your kitchen table.

Before you moved, wooyoung stood up quickly. “No, I'll put her to bed. You finish them, okay cupcake?” he winked at you, and before you could put up a fight, he was already over in the living room.

“Let’s go, Nabi. it’s bedtime,” he cooed, grabbing her little hand before reaching for the tv remote. He shut the tv off, causing Nabi’s attention to move to him. She would always put up a fight when it’s time for bed, but for some reason, if it was woo, she would go down so easily.

He walked past you as nabi followed him. He gave you a smirk before disappearing into your daughter’s room. Thank god you had him, huh.

As you finished the boxes while Woo read Nabi a bedtime story, you started to think about your future. You wanted Nabi to grow up with a father figure. You wanted that for her, at least. You wanted the feeling of falling in love again, knowing that Seonghwa was never returning. He used to tell you to continue to open your heart up to others, but all this time you found it difficult. You avoided dates and men in general, afraid to get attached to someone who could leave. You completely overlook wooyoung everytime, as he was the only one who ever stayed next to you no matter what.

It was time to fall in love again.

Well, at least to try.

As you finished the last box, Wooyoung came back into the kitchen and took a seat on the chair.

“She really loves the very hungry caterpillar. It’s literal poetry, she has such good taste,” he chuckled to himself, running a hand through his silky hair.

You didn't say anything. You were too busy thinking about what you were going to do.

“You alright there?” he asked you, leaning over the table to get closer to you. His eyes sparkled mischievously until he noticed the austere look on your face. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve just been thinking,” you carried on, putting your face in your hands.

“About what?” he asked you, his eyes frantically searching yours. “About…seonghwa?”

“No, no it’s not about him,” you chuckled nervously, lost in your thoughts. “Well, in a way, but not exactly.”

He stared at you attentively. “Tell me, If it's about hyung then how bout we go visit him? We can bring his favorite flowers and stuff. If it's not about him then i’ll help you—”

“I’m gonna date again,” you blurted out without even thinking. You weren't sure how he would react to your sudden idea, knowing that he was super protective over you and Nabi.

Wooyoung stared at you with wide eyes, feeling as if someone ripped his heart out. “W-what? Dating?”

You couldn't meet his gaze. “Um, yeah. I feel like it’s the right time,” you nodded, standing up to give yourself some busywork before getting confused with his answer. You didn't need his permission, but you wanted to hear his opinion.

“Are…are you ready for that?” he swallowed hard, standing up with you and following you into the kitchen. “I just don't want you meeting someone who could hurt you…”

I don't want you dating anyone, he thought. He didn't say it.

He wished he did.

“It's the first time I really felt this way after all these years. I should take this as a sign, I guess.” you shrugged, reaching up to the top cabinet to grab some whiskey.

He nodded, unable to break your words apart. If you were saying them, that means you meant them. “Okay,” he smiled, hiding his messy thoughts he didn't understand.

“I’m gonna start tomorrow.”

That’s when he couldn't keep his mouth shut. “What?!” he choked on his words. “Tomorrow? Don't you think that's a little soon?”

You shook your head, pouring yourself a glass of the liquor. “No, my mom set me up on a blind date. I might as well test the waters.”

He sighed, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't his place to control you, and you certainly deserve your freedom. Wooyoung thought this feeling for you was pure sympathy for a friend as he worried about you falling in love with someone else, but the ache in his heart said otherwise.

“Just be careful,” he needed to lighten up the mood. “You may fall in love with a gumiho. Or worse, a vampire that will suck your blood and kill you and burn you alive and shit—”

“Ah, shut up you idiot,” you rolled your eyes playfully, unable to notice his worry.

He knew at that moment, even if he wanted your happiness, he couldn't let it happen if the man wasn't him. In a platonic way, of course….

This is war.

—

You met seonghwa on the tenth day of university a few years back. He was a year older; a year of knowledge ahead of a young freshman like you. Wooyoung was a year behind you in school, so while you were thriving in college, he was sitting alone at a desk with a frown.

You met your past lover in the library. He sat with a pair of thin rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his hands in his jet-black hair as he aggressively tried to fill his brain with useless knowledge. You sat across from him, admiring his efforts. It made you wonder about his studies, and why he seemed so serious.

After you introduced yourself anxiously using the excuse of not knowing where the study rooms were, he took you to the second floor. You frantically asked for his name as he walked away, and he offered you a smile as he told you it.

After that day, you met him in the library again. This time, you sat next to him. You noticed the cover of the text he was reading— “adolescent psychology.” somehow, it made sense for someone like him. While you ditzed around with a culinary major, he was out there cramming medical terms and things you couldn't even pronounce.

He looked at you then. When he smiled, you knew he was the one for you. He had to be.

As the months passed, you ended up making out in his dorm room, drunk out of your mind and drunk on him. He made love to you after nearly breaking his glasses on his face, kissing you as the clock struck midnight.

Ever since that night, friends became lovers.

But those lovers only lasted a few years, when it abruptly ended with death as the leaves died, too.

—

“You sure you’ll be alright with Nabi, right?” you frantically asked Wooyoung. It was the next day, and you were waiting on your date to come and pick you up. You ended up closing shop for the day, even with all the hard work of making boxes. You felt that it was unfair for wooyoung to watch both Nabi and the bakery at the same time.

Wooyoung ended up staying over—as he always does—and as you walked out into the living room, you saw his eyes widen at your appearance. “What? Do I look bad?”

He stared at you, eyes raking over your bare legs and subtle cleavage. You never dressed up, at least not for the past three years. Who could blame him when his best friend looked like a goddamn model. “Fuck, y/n—”

You gave him the death stare as he cursed in front of the butterfly.

“Fu..dge, y/n, you look hot as hell,” he tsked, leaning back on the couch as Nabi played with her toys on the floor—toys that wooyoung got her.

“Okay, good. That was my intention. I’m not used to looking like….”

“What? A sexy milf? Well you hit it right on the nose, you sexy thing,” his eyes fluttered as he oogled you, and you paid no mind to his flirting again. You were sure he was just trying to make you feel good. He stood up then, and walked over to you. He looked at you up and down, letting out a whistle.

“So San will like this, you think?” you took notice of how Woo’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch you.

He did.

He reached out to run a hand through your hair, his other hand resting on your hip. “Oh, yeah. Whoever San is, he’s a lucky guy. Meow—”

“Don't ever do that again,” you said, disgusted, and slapped his hand away from your waist. “Okay, you know the drill with Nabi. make sure she gets a bath tonight if I don't come home.”

“Oh you bet—wait, what?” his eyes widened, and this time, not at your body. “You won't be coming home?”

You walked over to the door to slide on your heels that were only worn once. “Well, yeah. If it goes well.”

Something about that infuriated Wooyoung. As if you weren't allowed to stay over anyone’s house other than his own. So he was just the babysitter to you? To be fair, he had no reason to be upset. This was his own problem and he knew it.

“I hope he’s a terrible guy,” he grumbled under his breath, walking over to you just as the doorbell rang.

“Oh, it must be San.”

“Oh it must be San,” he mocked you under his breath again.

You opened the door to reveal a gorgeous man who stood tall. His eyes met yours the minute the door opened, and a smile reached his eyes. “Hi, y/n,” his voice was smooth like butter.

“Hi San, it’s nice to finally meet you,” you said shyly, trying to hide your anxiousness. Wooyoung came up from behind you, an intense look on his face as he stared down the man in front of him.

San frowned slightly, but smiled at you. “Who’s this?” he asked you, still staying behind the barrier of the entrance.

Wooyoung didn't say anything. He just scoffed and slid his hand down your waist to fix the hem of your dress. It was exaggerated, totally, but he kept his gaze on san as he touched you. “Your dress was rolled up, cupcake,” he said sweetly while you glared at him.

“Oh, this is Wooyoung. My best friend,” your glare changed to a smile the minute you met eyes with San. “forgive him, his love language is apparently touch.”

“Hmph,” Woo mumbled, rolling his eyes.

San nodded slowly, an unsure expression on his face. “Ah, I see. It’s nice to meet you, Wooyoung.”

When Woo didn't respond, you elbowed him in the rib until he let out a cry of pain. “Ow–Oh, yeah, sure. Nice to meet you too, Stan.”

“It’s San.”

Wooyoung looked him up and down. “Yeah, alright, whatever….Stan.”

You rolled your eyes at the boy you called your best friend, about to make another excuse for him until Nabi grabbed onto Wooyoung’s leg.

“Who are you?” she questioned San from Woo’s leg, her tiny hands gripping onto his sweatpants. “Are you a stranger?”

San smiled down at her, giving you a soft smile before bending down to her view. “No, don't worry sweetie. I know your mom,” he ruffled Nabi’s hair, to which she backed away slightly and looked up to Wooyoung. She got the nerves from you, clearly.

Wooyoung picked your daughter up with a playful noise, bouncing her on his hip as she laughed.

“She’s a little shy,” you excused her behavior, biting your tongue on anything else. “I’m sure my mom told you all about Nabi, huh?”

He nodded, and you noticed how white his teeth were as he smiled. His hair was the same color as wooyoung’s, but without the rebellious streaks. “Not everything, but enough. I know what I'm getting into,” he laughed slightly, and you took it as a note to leave the house.

“Alright, well, i guess we’ll get going,” you looked over to wooyoung, who was giving the dirtiest look to San. “woo, take care of my baby, okay?”

“Mhmm,” he hissed, walking away from you both to go into the kitchen. “Aye Aye, Captain.” he waved you off.

You walked over to them to give a kiss to your daughter, who giggled under your touch. Wooyoung glanced down at you, a frown apparent on his usually smiling lips. “Where’s my kiss?” he asked you, but it didn't seem as playful as usual. You ignored it, giving him a sharp glare.

“Stop it, don't be mean to him, too,” you whispered aggressively, giving one last smile to Nabi before walking towards the door to San. “I'll see you later, let me know if you have any problems.” you said as you walked out, shutting the door behind you.

“Oh, I have a problem, alright,” he scowled at the closed door, still bouncing Nabi.

“A big problem.”

—

You sat in front of San at a fancy restaurant. It wasn't too bad, he was a friendly face for you. He held the door open for you, pulled back your chair, poured your glass of wine, and even listened to you like you were the most knowledgeable person in the world.

As you ate, you tried to be as classy as possible after knowing that he came from a rich family. He was some director at a company or something, you didn't know the details, but from what your mom said about him, he was sitting on money. You came from a decent family with an average income, but your mom had an in for absolutely anything. She knew everyone, so of course that meant you had to be with the best of the best.

San coughed anxiously, his eyes looking down as he addressed the elephant in the room. “Um, is that…Wooyoung always like that?” he asked you, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m not trying to intrude your private life, but he just seems a bit—”

“Touchy? Invasive? Flirty?” you sighed, taking a sip of your red wine. “Yeah. he’s been like that since the day I met him.”

“Ah, Okay. So he doesn't have feelings for you or anything?”

You scoffed, nearly snorting the wine up your nose. You looked around as you gained new attention from all the rich bitches around you, and then looked to san, who was trying to hold in his laugh.

“No, god no!” you waved your hands to express your words. “He’s just like that. He’d literally hump a rock if it moved. He’s just a little amorous, so to say.”

San laughed at your words, letting loose at your comfort. “Oh, thank god. Because I really like you, y/n. I think we could become something good,” his brown hair was eye-catching enough, but as he said those words and ran a hand through it, it made you want to run your own hands through it.

You finished your meal as you exchanged quick glances and small smiles. He was nice; you liked him. He made you feel comfortable and beautiful, and as you left the restaurant, he helped you into the passenger side of his sleek car. He got into the driver's seat, and before you could buckle yourself, he reached over to buckle you.

He smelled sweet and woodsy at the same time, like a daydream in a garden. You held your breath as his face neared yours, and as his eyes met yours, you saw yourself in the reflection of his pupils.

He moved away then, placing his hands on the wheel nervously. He didn't start the car yet, as both your minds wandered on what to do next.

“So, where to–”

“Can we go–”

You both spoke at the same time, causing laughter to erupt. “Go ahead,” you signaled him with a smile.

“No, you go,” he swallowed nervously, stealing a glance at you while you began to talk.

“Can we…go to yours?” you asked him, fiddling with your fingers in your lap as you awaited his answer.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, turning towards you. “You want me to take you…to my place?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed hard, leaning towards you slightly. “Does that mean….”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you need to—”

“I’m sure,” you looked into his dark eyes, pulling a smile to your lips. You weren't sure if you were tossing yourself into something you weren't ready for. Who knows, you haven't gotten laid for years now. San was the type of guy who would stop if you needed to. You felt safe.

San leaned over the armrest, his hand sliding to cup your cheek. You looked into his eyes once more, seeing the sincerity in them. You wanted to kiss him. You were going to kiss him.

When his breath hit your lips, the next thing you knew was the way he tasted. You could taste the bitterness of the wine on his soft lips that enveloped your own. It was slow and tender, and his hands cradled your face carefully. It was your first kiss that wasn't with Seonghwa and somehow, it felt okay. Your heart ached slightly as you thought about it, but it went away as one of his hands trailed down to cup your breast.

And just as you were going to go further, your phone rang loudly, interrupting your mind off sex.

San pulled away slowly, his one hand still holding onto your face. With a smile he said, “Go ahead, it might be your daughter.”

You nodded, breaking away from him to pull out your phone. As soon as you saw Wooyoung’s name, your heart began to beat faster. You answered the call as quick as you could. “Is something wrong? Is Nabi okay?”

“Uh,” Woo sighed on the other end. “Where’s the medicine at? I think she might be getting sick…she feels a bit warm.”

Your eyes widened as you looked over to San. “what? She’s sick? She has a really weak immune system, she can't get sick,” you said desperately, meeting san’s worried gaze. “I’ll be right there.”

You hung up, looking over to San with a frown. “I’m sorry, I really wanted to end the night with you, but—”

“Nabi is sick, right? I heard it all,” he smiled at you understandably, and reached to start the car. “It’s alright, as long as I can see you again.”

You nodded as he drove off. “Yes, please. Of course. I need to see you again.” you blushed, your mind worried about little Nabi.

“Tommorrow? The next day? The day after that?” he playfully joked, but you really did want to see him tomorrow.

“Tomorrow? Meet me at the bakery I run?” you asked him shyly, really wanting to keep this thing afloat. “I close at four, want to meet me there after? I’ll bake you a cake…”

He chuckled as he drove, nodding with a smile.

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

—

“Now, remember butterfly,” wooyoung tucked Nabi into bed with a devious smile. “When your mommy comes home, act like you're sick. Blegh cough blegh sick, okay baby?”

Nabi giggled just as micheviously as Wooyoung. She fake coughed, and sniffled, as if she had the IQ of a teenager.

“That’s my girl.”

He quickly shut the light out, making sure the nightlight was on in the corner of the room before leaving the room to lie down on the couch, right on time as you barged into the home.

San was nowhere in sight as you shut the door behind you. You met eyes with Wooyoung, who was sprawled out on the couch. “How was your date?” he asked you, sitting up as you tossed your shoes off quickly.

“Not right now, Woo.” You made your way to your daughter’s room, your heart about to beat out your chest. “Is she alright? Sleeping okay?”

Wooyoung got up and followed you into the room, where Nabi was coughing.

“Oh, baby,” you sighed, turning on the light and rushing over to her. You rested your hand on her small little forehead, feeling relief wash over you as she felt normal. “Okay good, you're not burning up.”

“Cough cough,” she let out, along with a yawn.

You sighed, looking over to Wooyoung. “Did you give her medicine?”

He nodded sheepishly, taking a step backwards towards the door. “Uh, yeah. Listen, I gotta go feed my cat. I’ll see you at the bakery tomorrow, alright?”

He turned on his heel and made his way out the room quickly.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his dismissal, looking over at your wide eyed daughter. “He doesn't even have a cat…”

And that’s when it hit you.

Nabi giggled at you, sitting up against her little headboard. “Hi mommy, Woo told me to cough.”

Oh, that little asshole.

“Jung Wooyoung! Get your ass back here!”

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung #single parent au #best friend #best friends to lovers #bakery au #choi san #love triangle

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chaotic-super · 5 months

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For Her Sake - Chapter 18

AO3 link

“Hello, hello.” Lena greets the small group at her door and waves them inside. Winn, Alex, Kara and Lori all pile into her apartment and are ushered into the living room where Sam and Ruby are already waiting in front of a stack of board games, the pair lounging back into the oversized couch.

Kara moves in first, pulling Sam up and into a hug as though she hasn’t just spent several days with her. “Hey, you.”

“Ugh, so clingy.” Sam teases but hugs her back. “Kara, this is my daughter Ruby.” She gestures to the teenager on the couch, now waving up at her but her eyes darting down to her phone every couple of seconds.

Kara smiles at her. “Hey, Ruby. I’m Kara.” Then she opens her arms towards Lori, who is hiding behind Lena’s legs and looking at the strangers with apprehension. Seeing her mom waiting for her, Lori darts into her arms and wraps her hands around the back of Kara’s neck as she’s picked up. “This is Lori.”

Kara turns her body, and subsequently, Lori’s towards the pair of them but Lori isn’t a big fan of that and tucks her head into her mom’s neck to hide from them.

“It’s ok, baby. They’re friends.” Kara soothes, a hand running up and down her back. Lori isn’t swayed though and keeps herself buried in the safety of her mother’s arms.

Lena takes a couple of steps closer to the pair and sets a gentle hand on the back of Lori’s shoulder. She flinches at the unexpected touch and her eyes fly up to see who is touching her but she relaxes again when she sees that it’s just Lena and reaches her arms out for her.

There’s an easy transition between Kara holding Lori and Lena holding her but either way, as soon as Lori is in her arms, her little head is tucked into the crook of Lena’s neck. “You’re ok. You don’t have to speak to them, let’s just sit down and get started on some games, huh?”

The feeling of Lori’s head nodding against her tickles and Lena smiles, taking up a seat on the couch on the opposite end to Sam and Ruby so Lori can get used to them in her own time. Lori sits on her lap sideways, her head still pressed tightly against her except on her chest this time.

Kara goes to sit down beside her but hesitates and instead pulls her jacket off and puts it beside her, saving her seat. “I’m going to grab some drinks, want one?”

Lena nods. “I have one on the counter, I forgot to bring it over, if you could grab that for me, that would be great. Oh, and there’s some chocolate milk in the refrigerator, I thought a certain someone might like a glass.”

Lori’s head shoots completely up at that point and she smiles. Lena can’t help but find it absolutely adorable when she sees a little gap where one of her teeth has fallen out. “I want chocolate milk!”

“You do? Are you sure?” Lena teases.

“Yes!” She turns her head to Kara. “Please, Mommy, can I?”

Kara shakes her head at the pair. “I suppose one glass won’t hurt, will it?”

Lori’s head shakes back and forth rapidly. “No, it won’t hurt.” She repeats.

With that adorable exchange underway, Kara heads to the kitchen where Alex and Winn are pouring their own drinks. “Hey, get in there and socialize, you antisocial freaks.” Kara pushes them out of her way.

“Now that’s just rude.” Winn pouts, already heading to the living room. Alex doesn’t leave so easily though.

Kara tries to open the refrigerator but can’t because Alex pushes her hand against it, keeping it closed. If she really wants to, Kara can probably force it open but Lena’s fridge probably costs more than everything she owns so she’s not going to try it in case she breaks it, it’s just not worth the risk. “Can I help you?”

“I’m not sure, can you?”

Kara frowns, “What does that even mean?”

Alex shrugs, ��I don’t know but you’re hiding something and you need to spill the beans before I beat them out of you.”

“Why are you acting like you’re a dealer I owe money to?”

“I’m asking the questions here,” Alex points a finger in Kara’s face. “You’re acting weird and you’re going to tell me why. Got it?”

Kara tilts her head up to the ceiling, her hands finding her hips and a sigh burst forth from her lips. “I’m not acting weird, I’m just a little nervous for you guys to meet my new boss. Is that a good enough excuse for you?”

Alex’s eyes narrow. “So you admit that it’s an excuse?”

“Shove off and go mingle. I’m trying to get drinks before we all die of dehydration because you want to interrogate me.”

“I’m not letting this go,” Alex informs her, completely serious. “I know you and I can see that something is off with you, it’s written all over your face.”

Kara lowers her voice, her teeth gritting as she speaks. “I’ll talk to you at home. We’re not doing this here now go in there, you’re embarrassing me in front of my boss.”

Alex doesn’t look satisfied with the answer but her eyes dart to the couch where the others are trying and failing to sneakily look at them and she realizes that she is drawing attention to them. “Fine but we are going to talk about this.”

“Whatever, just go already.” Kara pushes her and Alex actually goes this time, plastering a smile on her face as she goes and turns on the Danvers charm that has never failed her before.

With the sister-shaped blockade out of the way, Kara can finally get the chocolate milk Lori is impatiently waiting for, her bright blue eyes watching her mom over Lena’s shoulder to see if she’s almost done.

As her hand grips the handle to open the fridge, Kara’s eyes fall on the litany of pictures hanging on the fridge, all with boring silver magnets that decidedly clash with the messy drawings of a four-year-old. It’s cute and Kara wasn’t fully expecting Lena to have been telling the truth about having them on display here before but she can see now that she was in fact telling the truth.

She gives herself a moment to take it in. It gives her a strange feeling, the knowledge that Lena loves her daughter enough to have her pictures up on display in her apartment, a place that is sleek and fancy. It doesn’t fit but Lena doesn’t care because she made a promise to Lori and so she’s keeping it. That’s someone she needs in her daughter’s life and she can’t believe how this person came into her life.

Had the plan worked, Lena’s life could have been ruined because who is she kidding, even she’s not naïve enough to truly believe that Lena wouldn’t have been hurt by that. She tried to convince herself before that there would be no real victims to what was planned but she can’t keep lying to herself, she knows that it wouldn’t have been anywhere close to an innocent, victimless plot. It would have at the very least traumatized her and yet here she is calming her daughter down and buying her chocolate milk.

With a shake of her head, Kara pushes those thoughts aside. Lena has forgiven her. She might not have forgiven herself, but Lena’s forgiveness makes her hate herself a little less.

Kara hurries up and gets the drinks done because by now, Lori is squirming in Lena’s lap because she’s so impatient and Lena’s soothing hand running up and down her spine isn’t doing anything to soothe her anymore.

Lena smiles at Kara when she hands her the drink she left on the counter earlier and Lori grabs the chocolate milk from her, her eyes brighter than usual from the excitement of finally having it.

“Thank you, Kara,” Lena says and shuffles over a little when Kara lifts her jacket and sits beside her so she has a little more space.

Kara smiles back at her and takes a sip from her glass.

Alex snorts at her from the other side of her. “Are you drinking chocolate milk, Kara?”

“Yeah,” Kara answers back, not ashamed. “Why?”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“And it’s taken you until now to notice?” Kara’s eyebrows scrunch. A cluster of chuckles from everyone else in the room fills the air and Sam is looking at them strangely, her hand covering her mouth to hide her smile. “What are you laughing at, Samantha?”

Sam holds up a hand. “Ok so first off, call me that again and I’ll fire you and secondly, you’re the world’s biggest dork.”

A sarcastic grin covers her face. “Oh really? Do I get a T-shirt for that?”

Lena cuts in before Sam can talk. “Ok, ok, let’s not continue this and get onto the games before you people give me an aneurism.”

The games are getting competitive and it’s getting frighteningly aggressive as everyone yells at each other. It turns out that while Monopoly is fun, it becomes less fun when a bunch of people are passionate about winning and argue about who owes who which properties.

Lori is playing in a team with Alex because she’s a little devil whose competitive side rivals her aunts so they make a good team. She’s warmed up to Sam and Ruby enough that she’s not hiding from them now and is willing to exchange a few words with them but she’s keeping her distance from them.

It’s really showing Lena that Kara wasn’t telling her a lie when she told her that Lori is shy and it was a shock she warmed up to her so quickly but she managed it much easier than Sam is and a part of her wants to rub that in her face because it’s always felt like Sam has herself together much more than she does so this is something she finally has over on her but at the risk of sounding petty in front of everyone, she keeps her mouth shut. She’s totally going to say something tomorrow when Sam will definitely call her to gossip about the night though, she can’t hold it in forever.

Kara went out of the game early on, not really trying all that hard because she was too busy overseeing Alex to ensure she was being nice to Sam and doesn’t ruin her reputation with her boss. She’s actually having the opposite problem now though because Alex is being on her best behaviour and that can only mean one thing; Alex is flirting with her boss. She supposes this is payback for having a crush on Alex’s boss.

Lena goes bankrupt and huffs, moving from where she was kneeling beside the coffee table to sit back down on the couch beside Kara. “This game sucks.”

“I second that.” Kara huffs with her. “I swear I used to actually be good at it at some point in my life.”

“Well, I can’t say the same. I never really played board games growing up. They had a few at boarding school but playing them was a very quick way to becoming known as a nerd so I only ever made the mistake of trying them out once and never did it again.”

Kara is slouched down on the couch and is sat at quite the unattractive angle but she doesn’t even process it, just leans her head back against the cushion of the couch and tilts her head towards Lena. “But you are a nerd.”

“Rude,” Lena says, no bite to the word. “I might have been a nerd but school definitely wasn’t my main focus when I was at boarding school.”

“Then what was?”

“It was an all-girls school and I was a queer teenager trying to find myself, I’m sure you can figure out how I found myself there.”

Kara’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, her eyes searching Lena’s face for answers for a moment until the penny finally drops. “Oh.”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s understandable. School is pretty much when everyone does their experimenting. Mine was college.”

Lena’s eyebrow raises. “Do tell.”

A blush covers Kara’s cheeks. She wasn’t planning on mentioning that, it’s not something she ever talks about and even Alex doesn’t know a lot about her time in college, mostly because it’s weird talking to her sister about that stuff but also because it’s something that deeply personal to her at the time and it was a time when she was trying to define herself without any outside influences.

“It’s probably not as interesting as yours, I wasn’t at an all-girls college or anything. My roommate liked to bring around groups of her friends and they would get drunk in our dorm so from time to time I’d end up joining in since they were making so much noise I couldn’t study. Drunk me has less trouble flirting with pretty girls than sober me. Sober me just ends up tripping over her words and making a fool of myself.”

“I suppose it helped that you were already in your dorm, the bed was close.” Lena nudges her shoulder with her own. “I used to have to sneak down behind the bicycle sheds because my dormmate was a snitch and I didn’t want my parents to find out.”

“If it makes you feel better, my roommate ended up yelling at me on three separate occasions for sleeping with her friends and they stopped coming around to the dorm because she refused to risk me being around them anymore.”

Lena openly laughs at her then, her lips curled up into the sweetest of smiles. “Your roommate thought you were enough of a stud that you were going to make your way through all of her friends.”

“I only slept with two of them and they were a group of like…seven, or something. I slept with one twice. I tried asking her out after the second time but that was sober me so I think my stuttering put her off. It kind of knocked my confidence so I just went with the easier option. Men.”

“Ew.”

“Tell me about it. I got the best thing from sticking to guys for a while though. Besides, while I figured out my bisexuality, I never truly embraced the lady-loving side of myself, I accepted it was there but I pushed it aside and figured I’d just never be with a woman again after that.”

A hand falls onto Kara’s arm, Lena’s thumb running across her skin soothingly. “How come?”

Kara sucks in a deep breath to buy her time to think. “I guess…I think I just always struggled to fit in to the point where I thought that acknowledging myself in that way would undo all of the work I’d put in to be what I deemed to be an acceptable human being. I didn’t want to stand out in a heteronormative society.”

“Now that sucks,” Lena responds simply.

“Yes, it does.”

Lena looks down at her hand, still on Kara’s arm, and keeps up the motion with her thumb since Kara isn’t pushing her off. “Do you still feel like that?”

“Like I have to be with a man to fit into a society that is going to shit on me no matter what I do anyway?”

“Hm.” Lena hums her assent.

“No, not anymore,” Kara admits and then regrets it when her answer garners a tiny smile from Lena. God, she’s leading her on and she still needs to find a way to talk to her alone and address the relationship they’ve been sliding into because she needs to hit the brakes. She can’t do this now. “I’m going to grab another drink.”

The couch beside Lena is empty before she can process what just happened, one second they are having a moment and talking honestly with each other and then the next Kara is retreating. The joy she feels about Kara admitting being open to dating a woman is quickly overtaken by worry as Kara runs away. Maybe she’s not as ok with it as she says, or maybe she’s just overwhelmed with the topic and should drop it.

Lena follows her.

She’s not going to push her but she is going to check on her so she makes her way to the kitchen, stopping to throw a look over her shoulder to make sure that the others are all still occupied, which they are and they are arguing now so they are definitely not paying attention to the pair of them.

Lena comes up behind Kara and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Kara answers quickly and with absolutely no chill.

“And that’s a very obvious lie. Kara, what’s wrong?” Lena implores her to open up.

Kara shakes her head. “Can we…not here, Lena. Can we speak somewhere else?” Her words come out in a rush and a little scrambled but the message still comes across loud and clear.

“I don’t think any of them will notice if we slip away for a few minutes.” Lena offers. “Come on, we can go and talk in my bedroom.”

Kara casts a nervous glance at the group and determines that Lena’s right. They are all too focused on the game to pay them any mind. She’s still not sure as though now is a good time to talk. If this goes wrong then Lena is going to be stuck in her apartment with a bunch of people she has to host while trying not to show her true feelings, whatever they may be. “I don’t know, Lena.”

“It’s ok if you need more time to think, I’m sure they’ll get distracted again in a little while anyway,” Lena reassures her, backing off so she’s not applying as much pressure on Kara.

Kara is very rapidly filled with guilt. Lena’s still being nice to her and she’s about to reject her before anything has even happened. She can’t put it off, Lena’s just going to keep looking at her with worry-filled eyes until they speak. “No, no, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Are you certain?”

Kara nods, swallowing harshly and then follows Lena down the hall to her bedroom. Her hands twist together nervously while Lena shuts the door behind them softly. Her eyes trace around the room and a part of her is a little shocked at how ordinary it is. If she didn’t know better she would just assume this is the room of any random person on the street, not a billionaire. While she knows the furniture must be expensive, it’s designed simply and none of it is bold. Even her bedsheets are just a gentle teal colour, plain and simple.

Lena clears her throat to get her attention. “You can sit if you’d like.”

Kara’s head jerks into another nod and she perches on the very edge of the bed. Lena takes a seat beside her, leaning back more firmly than Kara. “I’m not sure where to start. Let me just think for a moment please.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Her fingers tap on her knees while she constructs her opening sentence in her head and the movement does nothing to ease Lena’s growing nerves. “I was talking to Sam the other day and she told me that there’s a good chance you might have feelings for me that are more than platonic.”

Lena physically rears back. What just came out of Kara’s mouth was the very last thing she was expecting to hear and she is utterly unprepared to deal with it. “She told you that?”

“Yes. She basically told me that I need to stop being stupid and admit that I have a crush on you because you feel the same way.” Kara’s fingers are tapping so fast against her knee that Lena thinks she might drill her way right through it if she carries on but that’s not her main focus, not when she just heard something she doesn’t want to unhear.

“Was she right?”

“About me having a crush on you?” Kara’s voice is shaky.

“Yeah, do you?” Lena asks. She’s completely on edge waiting for the answer and doesn’t know what to do with herself so she crosses her arms over her chest.

Kara drops her head down for a second before lifting it again. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Lena’s lips part into a shy smile. “So we both like each other?”

“We do,” Kara confirms before administering a nasty blow to Lena. “But nothing can come of it.”

Lena’s smile drops off her face and her eyes start filling up with tears. It’s one thing to get rejected by someone that isn’t interested in you, it’s another to get rejected by someone that is. “Oh.”

“I wish we could. I would really like that but we can’t.” Kara’s words are choked and as Lena looks at her through her own tears, she can see Kara struggling too. “I have Lori to think about. I can’t mess up her life any more than it already is. We’re just getting back on track and you’ve become a stable figure in her life. I can’t risk that in any way. I’d rather have you as a friend than as nothing at all, Lena. I can’t risk you leaving because something went wrong between us.

“You’ve done so much to help us and I’m so incredibly grateful for everything you’ve done but that’s not why I need you to stay. I need you to stay in our lives because you’re really kind and funny and thoughtful and everything I’ve needed. I really do like you, Lena. I just can’t lose you when I’ve only just got you into my life.”

Lena’s whole face scrunches, her confusion levels skyrocketing. “So, you’re telling me that we can’t be together because you like me too much?”

Kara shrugs in response.

“Kara, for a woman as smart as you are, you’re acting kind of dumb and I don’t think there’s a nicer way for me to tell you than that.”

Lena almost laughs as Kara’s head flies up and her eyes narrow at her in offence. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re acting dumb. I get that you want stability for Lori, especially after everything you guys have been through but that doesn’t mean you have to stop living to give her that. Change doesn’t equal stability, it’s just different.”

“But if that change means you’re not around anymore, that would devastate her,” Kara argues weakly.

Lena shrugs. “Well, that’s a pointless line of thinking because there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from being around.”

“Even if we try being more than friends and it doesn’t work out? Would you really be comfortable being around me because I’m pretty sure no sane person would stick around?” Kara makes her points as directly as she can manage, her voice strained the entire time. “She talks about you every day. She’s always asking me when we’re going to see you next and asking me to invite you over to watch movies with her. If I were to tell her that she won’t be seeing you again, it would break her heart. If I let anything happen between us, I’d be putting her heart on the line just as much as mine.”

Lena’s shoulders sag. She hadn’t thought of it that way. The risk involved in dating someone with a child is much greater than if she were dating someone childless. Even if she has no intention of leaving their lives if it doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean that Kara will be comfortable with having her around and even in the best-case scenario of that, she would have to slowly phase herself out of Lori’s life. “I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara says into the quiet of the room, the words heavy and dripping with sadness.

“Kara, you don’t have to apologize for looking out for your daughter. I understand your reasoning even if I don’t agree with it.”

Kara’s glossy blue eyes meet hers. “Why don’t you agree with it? You said you understand.”

“I understand why you’re so worried. I would be too but you’re only thinking in worst-case scenarios. In reality, we’re both level-headed women who care about each other and that little girl out there. Neither of us is about to do anything to hurt anyone on purpose. Besides that though, even if we tried and failed at a relationship, I wouldn’t want to end our friendship, it means more to me than I can say.”

Kara’s lips twist to one side, her brain working at a mile a minute. “Do you really think that we could stay friends after that?”

“I do but if I’m being honest, I’m hoping that it wouldn’t go wrong anyway. We might have had a rocky start but since then all we’ve done is build a relationship up on honesty and kindness. Switching our relationship status from platonic to romantic won’t change that core foundation. That’s why I said I don’t understand.” Lena explains, getting brave enough to reach out and trace her fingers across the back of Kara’s hand, prompting her to flip it over.

Kara feels Lena’s fingers slip between her own. “If we were to try, would you be ok with taking things slow?”

“More than.”

Kara’s gaze is deep as she searches Lena’s eyes for any hint of discomfort or hesitation. “And you’d be ok keeping it quiet for a while so Lori doesn’t find out? I don’t want her to get her hopes up just for us to go on a couple of dates and realize that there’s no spark.”

“She’s your daughter and I fully respect any decisions you make over her as her parent. If you want me to keep my mouth shut, I can do that.” Lena’s grip on Kara’s hand tightens in excitement because Kara is actually starting to agree with her, she can see it.

Kara breathes deeply. “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok,” Kara confirms. “If you want to do this, let’s do it.”

“You make it sound so romantic.” Lena teases, a grin blossoming across her face.

Kara reacts beautifully with a bright blush and a breathy laugh. “Sorry. What I mean to ask was if you would please do me the honours of going on a date with me sometime?”

“I would love that.”

“Great,” Kara mumbles happily.

“Excellent.”

“Magnificent.”

“Cheesy.” Lena taps a finger to Kara’s nose. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way though, there’s one more thing I want to do before we go back out there and have to deal with the others.”

Kara’s eyebrows scrunch in mock confusion, her eyes shining brightly. “There is?”

“Yeah, something like this,” Lena leans towards Kara, meeting her halfway and letting their lips meet for the first time.

They both lean into it, their hands still entwined throughout. It takes a second for them to find their rhythm because Lena’s going in soft and delicate so she doesn’t scare Kara off and Kara is throwing caution to the wind and finally letting herself give in and have what she’s been talking herself out of since her crush on Lena grew noticeable.

They settle into a pace that is somewhere in between and breathe push against each other, both fighting to control the kiss. Lena puts up a good fight until she comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter who wins this one, she’s going to get the chance to kiss her again anyway. She lets Kara take over and instead focuses on just enjoying the moment.

There’s a gentle tap at the door that breaks them apart from each other just in time for the door to swing open.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but there’s a little girl out there searching for her mommy.” Sam points a thumb over her shoulder but a smirk is seated firmly on her face. “I see you two have been having a productive time in here.”

Kara stands up, pulling Lena up with her because of their joined hands. “What makes you think that? We were just talking.”

“Oh honey, there’s lipstick all over your face. You should clean up and then come check on your daughter, she’s getting nervous with you gone.”

Kara’s hand flies up to her face as she looks at Lena’s which is covered in smeared lipstick. If her face is anywhere near as bad as Lena’s then she looks a mess too. “Can you tell her I’ll be out in a minute?”

“As long as I get all of the juicy details of this interaction later on.” Sam barters. “I’m looking forward to hearing about how you changed your mind about taking a bite of that hot ass.”

“Can you not?”

Sam shakes her head. “That would be no fun, now go clean up, Lori’s waiting.” She leaves the room looking smug and chuckling to herself evilly.

Kara and Lena share a look before Lena speaks. “You told her you didn’t want to date me.”

“Yeah but to be fair, she’s really good at extracting information.”

“That’s true.” Lena’s head flicks to one side as she gives Kara that one. Sam has always had the power to get her hands on the latest goings-on without putting in much effort. “We need to go and clean ourselves up.”

“Yeah, Lori will be nervous if we’re gone much longer, let’s go.” Kara goes to pull her towards the door so they can go to the bathroom down the hall but Lena pulls her back.

“Kara, did you not notice the bathroom that’s been six feet from you this whole time?” Lena points to the door behind her.

Kara’s mouth drops open. “Apparently not.”

“Come on, nerd. We’ve got a little girl waiting in the other room.”

“Ok.” Kara lets Lena drag her into the ensuite and does her best to hurry so she doesn’t keep Lori waiting but there are definitely a couple of setbacks in her lipstick-cleaning process.

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flurrys-creativity · 1 year

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Doctor’s Appointment

Pairing: Johnny Suh (NCT) X GN!Reader; Genre: Doctor AU, Hospital AU, strangers to somewhat lover, Single parent AU, somewhat fluff, kinda romance; Rating: sfw, pg-13; Warnings: sick baby, being in a clinic, rude elderly woman, self doubt, johnny being slightly intimidating (if you squint), infusion bags, mentions of needles and piercing the skin with said needles, mentions of passing out, mentions of neglecting ones own needs, a nosy neighbour; Wordcount: 3.269

Summary: Being a single parent isn’t always easy. Especially not when your kid is sick and you just don’t know what to do. If it weren’t for one very handsome doctor.

You nearly ran against the automatic doors as they didn’t open fast enough. Impatiently you tapped from one foot on the other, wincing with every cry that reached your ears.

During the ride here your little one had passed out from exhaustion, the high fever and constant crying throughout the afternoon, evening and half the night finally took a toll. But the second you unbuckled the seatbelt and lifted your baby into your arms it woke up again.

You ignored the stares and frowns from the few people around you, hurrying to the front desk where you stopped and started rocking your baby, hoping to cease the crying. Sadly nothing worked. Instead your little one only cried louder and louder.

By now you were surprised your eardrums didn’t burst, though you were sure you would hear a ringing the second it got remotely quiet again.

“Hey, I called, like yesterday and I was told I should come to the clinic when the symptoms of my baby wouldn’t get better and I think they got worse?” You tried to speak as calmly as possible but at the same time it felt as if you were screaming at the person behind the front desk.

“Mhm, I need to get your information first. Please take this form and fill it out. I’ll get you once the doctor is free.” They handed you a clipboard with an attached pen and pointed to the waiting area behind you.

You took the form out of their hand with a sigh and walked over to an empty seat. You struggled slightly to fill it out while also holding your child in your arm, bobbing it up and down. Again, the few people around you shot you nasty glances, basically throwing daggers at you with their eyes. You weren’t sure whether it was because of your child crying so loudly, because of your appearance or because of both combined - though you would bet your money on the latter.

You only wore some grey, old jogging pants and a loose white tee, which probably didn’t look as fresh as it should be. Due to the sickness of your child you refused to wear anything fancy - not just because of the fact you already had puke all over you once but more with the reason you just had no time. You stayed up for more than one night already, the symptoms and fever having only gotten worse since three days ago.

When your child showed the first symptoms of being sick, you immediately made an appointment with a doctor, not wanting to risk anything when it came to your little bean. There you got some medicine and tips on how to deal with it, saying it should get better in a few days.

Nothing had changed and so you had called this clinic, wanting to get a different opinion on the matter and they only told you to come by should anything get worse. Which it did - hence the reason you sat in the waiting area, looking like a catastrophe with your child still crying.

Once you filled out the form and handed it back to the person behind the front desk, you wandered up and down through the halls. Even though your legs hurt from constantly moving around, you just couldn’t sit still. On one hand you still hoped to calm your baby enough for it to stop crying and on the other hand there was no way for you to sit down and relax when you were this worried.

“Some people just aren’t cut out to be a parent”, an older woman sneered as you walked past her, “can’t even calm their own child.”

You turned back around to the woman, schooling your expression to be as emotionless as possible. Even though you wanted to explode and lash out at her, you couldn’t take a full on fight now with someone, who just didn’t know. “So far I haven’t met an eighteen month old child, who was able to simply say they felt uncomfortable with all the pain and exhaustion they were experiencing. So if you would kindly mind your own business? Thank you.”

“Blaming the child now? You are a horrible parent! Maybe you should have sent your significant other instead of yourself if you can’t deal with your own child!” She told you - loud enough for other people to look at you as well.

You clenched your jaw and tried to take several deep breaths. That comment stung. There was no significant other who could help you out. You had to deal with everything that was thrown at you on your own. “There is absolutely no reason for you to insult me like that.” Even though you tried to stay polite, your words sounded rather hissed than spoken.

“I have all the reasons!” She yelled and pointed at you, waving her arm accusingly in front of your face. “The moment you came through those doors you disrupted the peace inside these walls! It has been almost an hour now and your child is still crying and screaming! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Be a better parent!”

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, making you blink repeatedly. Your heart twisted painfully since that woman addressed all the worries you carried inside of you all the time.

“What is there to improve?” A voice spoke up behind you. “I see a wonderful parent right in front of me. I see the concern and the wish to let the child be checked up on. This is a lot more than other parents do.”

You bit on your lower lip, trying to prevent yourself from crying right in front of all these strangers.

The woman in front of you stuttered some incoherent sentences, trying to come up with some reason why you were still a bad parent. She glanced at the person behind you one more time before she decided to keep her mouth shut.

You slowly turned around, wanting to say thank you for helping you, when you were met with a stethoscope, a light blue shirt and a white coat. A small tag with the name Dr. Suh was attached to the coat. Your eyes wandered upwards until you saw a soft, comforting smile, warm brown eyes and brown locks.

“I think the small one has waited enough. Would you follow me, please?” He said and motioned towards the hallway behind him.

“But it isn’t our turn yet”, you whispered, feeling the judging glances on you once more. Some of the patients had been within the waiting room longer than you and you didn’t want to cut the line, giving them all the more reasons to hate you.

The doctor looked down at you, noticing the glances towards the waiting room. He looked over the few waiting patients, seeing none with an emergency or a reason to be addressed immediately. “I’m sure everyone here will understand why a child in severe pain is more of an emergency than a person with a stuffy nose, who could have visited their regular doctor during the day.”

You saw how everyone avoided his gaze before you looked back up to the doctor.

He scoffed shortly and turned his attention back on you, the smile returning to his lips. “So, if you’d follow me.” He placed a hand between your shoulder blades and guided you along the hallway and into an empty room.

You wanted to thank him again but he didn’t give you the time as he immediately started asking questions as soon as the door closed behind you. Name, age, weight, duration of the fever, other symptoms, how much your baby drank within the last twenty-four hours. You barely kept up with all the questions and him rushing around the room.

“Sang-so needs some liquid immediately”, he suddenly explained, walking over to you with an infusion bag in his hand. “I also added a small dose of pain relief, hoping to give your baby some well needed rest. You can stay in this room until the infusion is done.”

You watched him inject a needle into the back of your baby’s hand, securing it and attaching it with the infusion bag, which he hung on a pole.

“If nothing has changed within the next thirty minutes, call for me”, he stated and gently caressed the head of your still crying baby. “I will check on the both of you every now and then.”

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in gratitude, not able to go any lower with your child still in your arms.

“No need to thank me”, he smiled, “that’s my job after all.” With that he walked out of the room and left you alone, standing in the middle of it.

You wandered around the room, keeping the pole close to you, while you hummed a soft melody. You still felt the nervousness bubbling within your body but something about Dr. Suh gave you the reassurance everything would be fine.

Soon enough the crying ceased and dimmed down to quiet sniffles. A deep sigh left your lips and you kissed the forehead of your baby, grateful the infusion was helping.

Only after Sang-so fell asleep did you sit down on one of the chairs within the room. Your own exhaustion slowly caught up on you. With all the fear and stress you had neglected most of your own needs.

“Ah, I hear nothing”, the voice of Dr. Suh interrupted your thoughts. “That’s a good sign.”

A weak smile played over your lips as you nodded and thanked him again. “The little bean finally fell asleep”, you whispered and brushed a few strands of hair away.

Dr. Suh squatted down next to you, observing your child momentarily. “The fever didn’t go down because of dehydration. Sometimes we need to force them to drink. When Sang-so refuses to drink water, try mixing drops of juice into it to give it some flavour. That should do the trick.” He looked up to you, eyebrows furrowing while he assessed you. “Do you want to freshen up a little? I can stay with Sang-so for the meantime.”

You shook your head slowly. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Do you want me to call someone to pick you two up once the infusion is done?”

Again you shook your head. “It’s alright. I’ll call an uber again. Or a taxi.”

His frown only deepened. He raised a hand and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your dry lips. “When was the last time you drank something?” As you only shrugged with your shoulders, he continued questioning you. “When did you last eat something? How much did you sleep the past few days?”

You leaned into his touch, missing the softness of being cared for by another person. A single tear rolled down your cheek while you smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine”, you whispered and closed your eyes, “I just need a coffee and I’m back on my feet.”

You noticed him wince at your comment before he placed his second hand on your other cheek as well, forcing you to look at him with your glassy eyes. “I need you to rest”, he said sternly without breaking eye contact. “I’ll give you an infusion as well and then I need you and Sang-so to rest on the bed over there until my shift is over, understood?” He didn’t even wait for your answer before he helped you up and guided you over to the bed.

The second you laid down next to your baby, you passed out.

Johnny injected the infusion into your arm and stood up, looking down at you and the small child. Within the clinic Johnny was constantly met with egoistic people, who always wanted to be first or needed the world to revolve around their problems. Yet you had tried not to inconvenience all the other patients, even after they attacked you with their harsh words.

You woke up again from the soft giggles of Sang-so. When you opened your eyes they immediately wandered to Dr. Suh, who sat on a chair and balanced your baby on his legs.

Sang-so held his hands tightly while crouching down and standing back up, silently asking him to move his legs again. Once he did, Sang-so giggled in delight and repeated the request.

You pushed yourself up into a seated position, smiling tiredly while you smoothed down your hair.

“Look, who just woke up.”

Sang-so’s head whipped around and a cheerful laugh filled the room as your baby saw you awake.

Dr. Suh carried Sang-so over to you, watching you closely as you hugged your kid and mumbled something into its ear.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience”, you apologised though you stayed rooted on the bed, knowing full well you weren’t stable enough to move yet.

Johnny shook his head. “It was my own decision to take my break here.” A pang of guilt shot through your heart and only intensified as he continued speaking. “I also brought you two canteen food. It isn’t the tastiest there is but at least it’s nutritious.”

You wanted to apologise again, feeling like a burden and a good-for-nothing as you haven’t done anything helpful so far. But the doctor spoke up again before you had the chance to say a word.

“Sang-so? Can you do me a little favour?” He leaned down to your kid and waited for the soft nod. “I need you to make sure Y/N eats something and sleeps a little more until I’m back. Can you do that for me?”

Sang-so looked from the doctor to you and back again, giggling in excitement and nodding once more.

Johnny turned his attention to you and caught your gaze. “Rest”, he whispered and smirked slightly, “doctor's orders.”

“Okay”, you breathed out, too entranced with his eyes. Only after he left the room were you able to regain some control over your thoughts. Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage while your hands felt clammy and shaky.

You leaned back against the wall and closed your eyes, cursing under your breath for falling for the hot doctor. You had a tendency to develop crushes quite quickly. The last time it happened you ended up as a single parent and you had sworn to never fall for someone you barely knew again.

Yet, here you were falling for this incredibly attractive doctor.

Sang-so sat down on your lap and rested their head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat and slowly dozing off again.

You rubbed over their back and placed a soft kiss on Sang-so’s head before you relaxed again, letting your consciousness drift away once more.

When Johnny came back you still hadn’t eaten but at least you had rested some more. He quietly walked over to you and gently shook your shoulder, careful as to not wake up Sang-so.

You blinked several times before you were able to focus on the person in front of you. “What time is it?” You asked as you noticed the bright light coming through the windows.

“Time for you to eat something.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you accepted the food he held out to you. “I’m sorry you had to watch this little monster while you were on your break.”

“Don’t mention it.” Johnny sat back down on the chair and waited patiently for you to eat. He made light conversation with you after he sensed your nervousness, easing your mind almost instantly. “Once you finish eating, I’ll drive you home.”

You nearly choked on the food you just swallowed. “I can’t possibly accept that!”

“My shift ended half an hour ago. I really don’t mind offering you a lift. I don’t think waiting for an uber or a taxi would be a good choice with Sang-so still being under the weather.”

At that moment you noticed he didn’t wear the white coat anymore. Instead an overly large hoodie adorned his upper body.

“Dr. Suh…”

“Off my shift, not a doctor anymore. Call me Johnny.” He grinned at you, the smile becoming even wider when you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer.

After you ate up, Johnny guided you through the hospital to the parking lot. He opened the door for you and pulled a baby seat out of the trunk of his car, helping you to secure it on the backseat.

You felt oddly safe on the backseat of this man, though your heart rate spiked whenever your eyes met through the back view mirror. You knew you’d miss the attentiveness the second you’d get to your apartment and be the lonely single parent again but that thought didn’t prevent the butterflies inside your stomach.

When Johnny parked in front of your home, he quickly got out of the car and opened the door for you again.

“How can I ever repay you for your kindness?” You held Sang-so in your arms while Johnny put the baby seat back into his trunk. Before he was able to answer you though, your nosy neighbour opened the window and called out for you.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you got a boyfriend!”

“He’s no-...”

“Is he treating you right? Where was he when Sang-so was so sick? Did you scold him for not helping you out? He better step up his game! Aigo, don’t get fooled just because he looks handsome!”

“Miss Kim, I don’t have…”

“You should move in to help Y/N during a crisis. Last night they got into an uber! Do you know how dangerous that is for a single parent?” Once again you got interrupted by her, making you sigh deeply.

From all her nagging, Sang-so woke up again and looked around. The second your baby noticed Johnny standing beside you, the little monster leaned over to him and made grabby hands while giggling.

Johnny quickly grabbed Sang-so and made silly faces, saving you the struggle of holding such a whirlwind in your arms.

“At least he’s good with kids”, Miss Kim yelled and nodded approvingly, “maybe you chose a good one this time.”

Having had enough of this woman you simply faked a smile and dismissed her antics with a wave of your hands before you turned your back to her. “Sorry about that”, you murmured and reached for Sang-so, “I’ll explain the situation to her another time.”

“How about you repay me back with a date”, Johnny suggested and leaned down to your ear, “this might even save you the explanation to Miss Kim.” He chuckled softly and handed you Sang-so, only straightening again after he kissed your cheek. “Think about it. You know where to find me.” With that he bit his goodbye, even waving one last time to Miss Kim, before he got into his car and drove off.

Maybe your heart was making a good choice, despite fearing it might collapse any second now. You watched the car disappear into the distance, still stunned due to the soft kiss. Maybe you should give this a shot. At least your mind already played a dozen romantic scenarios over and over.

One of them being you with a small present at the clinic asking to see him and say thank you. And yes. You’d definitely say yes to a date with him. Maybe you should make a doctor’s appointment to let him know.

A soft giggle escaped your lips and you turned your head to look at Sang-so, smiled as well.

Yeah, you definitely wanted to make that doctor’s appointment.

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

#supermnet #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #johnny suh #nct #nct johnny #hospital au #doctor au #single parent au #doctor's appointment #one shot

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bearsinpotatosacks · 8 months

Text

Something That Does Right by You - Prologue

In 1982, Carole Edwards celebrates graduates from university by going out and ends up in bed with one Nick Bradshaw. The morning after, she remembers nothing but his moustache and something to do with birds. Nine months later, Bradley Edwards is born.

Now in 2019, Bradley is called back to Top Gun for a mysterious mission where he meets Admiral Bradshaw. Funny how they look alike, right?

Words: 1016

Now that the hectic crowd had gone, it was just her and the baby. It didn't really seem real, apart from the tense fatigue resonating from her bones. For so long she'd plodded on, the idea of her baby still a far off dream, something she knew was going to happen as her tummy grew and grew. But now he was here, she felt underprepared.

The baby gurgled in his cot by her bed. Everything had gone smoothly. He was a healthy six pounds four ounces of joy, although she hadn't been getting up every few hours to feed him yet, so she might retract that statement in a month or too, and he needed a name.

When the midwife had asked if she wanted to know the sex, she'd said no, she wanted it to be a surprise. She thought that it would be easier if it was just her choosing a name, she’d been wrong. Through a lot of confusion and almost pulling a name out of a hat, she'd narrowed it down to two names. Barbara, for a girl, or Bradley for a boy, after her father. Looking down at the blue hat and soft white swaddle, she guessed this was Bradley.

Bradley Edwards.

He gurgled a little more, she'd fed him earlier so didn't expect him to be hungry again just an hour later. Not that she really knew what to expect. Whoever put her in charge of another person’s life must really have faith in her.

She lent over to pick him up and there he was. A tiny bundle of cosy materials and that talcum powder baby smell that she was loving right there in her arms. An angel sent just for her. His eyes were still closed as he wiggled in her arms, getting comfy. She stroked his cheek, his big brown eyes blinking up at her. Huh, she thought, brown, must be from his dad, because her eyes were a clear blue, not that she had many memories of his dad going spare.

"Hey baby boy." Not very imaginative but descriptive enough. "Welcome to the world."

His eyes looked her over from her head, down to her hand as it lay on his face. He gurgled again. She guessed she underestimated how tiny babies were when they came out of the womb. Bradley could fit in one arm, his head nestled in the crook of her armpit as she took in the squish of his cheeks and soft strands of hair under his hat.

"I'm Momma, and I'm really happy to meet you." It felt weird being nervous about this, it was his first impression of her and she'd always been taught to make a good first impression, even if he wouldn’t remember this when he was older, she would though. "I reckon I should tell you a few things to get you started."

"First, my name's Carole Edwards, making you Bradley Edwards, that's also the name of you grandpa, your nana's name is Anna and your aunt is Jenny." She said.

His eyes had focused on her now. "And I bet you're wondering about your daddy, well so am I." She said. "I don't really remember him, I got a little drunk, you don't know what that is yet, met your dad and that’s when you were made, and the morning after I completely forgot who he was. Just a moustache and something about birds, that's it."

"So it's just you and me, I hope that's enough."

His eyes focused and unfocused. As she retracted her finger, he reached out with his tiny hand and grasped it tight in a fist. All the air left her lungs as he met her eyes for a moment before closing them again as he blinked heavier. Was that recognition? Did he mean to do that or just felt like it? It was difficult to decipher, whether or not he was aware of what he was doing yet. In fact, because she couldn’t just ask him what he meant, everything about him was an enigma. How wonderful, she reminded herself, to be able to learn everything about a person from day one, to watch them learn and grow and do it with them.

“Yeah, I’m tired too, we’ve both had a really busy day,” she said, settling backwards against the propped up cushions. “And I hope you don’t mind if I hold onto you for a second, I know hospitals are safe places but I don’t trust the world to not take you away yet.”

She watched him as his body relaxed into sleep. Now he was here, she could easily understand how you could slip into anxiety. There was no certainty with children. Anything could happen and the compulsion to never let them go, wrap them in cotton wool so the world couldn’t get to them was strong. She guessed that’s how depression kicked in too. Always having to be there without breaks could break someone. It was a hard line to walk.

“This all still feels like a dream, baby boy, I can’t believe you’re real yet, so maybe if I hold onto you for a little while longer then it will be.”

Her body slumped a little as it gave in. The lights were low and blinds drawn so the outside world was shut out for a ffew hours more. She knew that when she woke up, the nurses would’ve moved Bradley back into his cot, perhaps even to the nursery, an idea that made her chest go tight.

That was for tomorrow, though, not now. Sure, she could worry about all the different ways she could mess up. Or how delicate kids were or all the things that could go wrong for Bradley, a car crash, bullying, a fire. Yet, opening one eye, she saw that he was still sleeping soundly in her arms still, even wheezing a tad, and she realised it would all be fine. Married or single parent household, dad or no dad, this kid was going to go far, she could feel it.

So, single mother Carole AU. I wasn't sure if this should just be a one shot with another fic of Rooster and Goose meeting but decided to make this a whole fic with Bradley's birth being the prologue. Shout out to @pollyna for being encouraging! Hope you all enjoyed this!

#top gun #carole bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #single parent au #single mother carole #bear writes #something that does right by you #goosecarole #carole x goose #goose x carole

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writtenonreceipts · 6 months

Text

We are slowly (oh so slowly) chugging along on this fic!

Find the Masterlist here! // AO3

warnings: none!

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Of Friendships and Families

It was well after midnight when Rhysand returned home that evening. Between follow-ups with the city sheriff, fending off news reporters, and ensuring shops were boarded up properly—it was nearly two in the morning that Rhys could finally relax.

His apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

It had never really bothered him that he could remember. But for a few months now he’d realized just how off putting it could be. The space was big, too big for just one person, and despite being in the center of the city it was damn near isolating. Everything was modern, updated with the newest styles and appliances to fulfill every modem of comfort. Usually his place was a mess of chaos with his brothers, Mor, and Amren crawling around and he didn’t notice it.

Tonight, had been different.

Because his father had shown up and been Benham about everything.

As soon as he’d seen his father talking to Feyre, a pit formed in his stomach. Nothing good could come from the two of them interacting. His father wasn’t cruel, not really. But he did have an eye single to his own purposes and desires. So Rhysand didn’t trust the interaction no matter how brief. And then Feyre disappeared, only for Cassian to tell him she’d left with her sister.

And he knew that Benham had royally screwed things up for him. Not that Rhys knew what had happened, yet, but it couldn’t be good.

Rhys made his way to his bedroom, passing the too big kitchen and too clean living room. His apartment had a modern feel to it—dark wood, metal fixings, and monochromatic decorations. Nothing special about it really, even though everything he’d worked towards in his short adult life was supposed to get him here. Business school, a minor law degree, even a few courses in civics.

This was everything he’d wanted.

Supposedly.

As he was readying for bed, he found his phone and found the small texting thread he had with Feyre. Before he thought better of it, he sent out a message.

>>Rhys: Sorry for the late hour, I just wanted to check in and make sure you were alright?

He waited for a minute, two. The message sent turned to read but no new message came through. Five more minutes later and he knew that she wasn’t going to respond. It took all of his self control to not fire off another message, or worse call her. Instead, Rhys plugged his phone into its charger and walked away.

No good would come from being overbearing or too much into her business. Maybe he’d have Mor follow up with Feyre. Though, he had a feeling that with or without him, Mor would be friends with Feyre no matter what.

Still, as Rhys prepared for bed and what little sleep, he was going to get, he couldn’t help but worry that whatever had started with Feyre was not over before anything had really begun. He should have known his father would have come around as the police commissioner. Should have tried harder to keep that man from the scene as best he could.

For as long as Rhys could remember, Benham had snaked his way into every aspect of Rhys’ life. His father was always playing these games of will and competition, often seeing if Rhys could…manipulate his way out of any circumstance. The subtle control was usually easy to ignore or simply fix on his own. But Rhys wished he had more memories of throwing a baseball around with his dad instead of collecting ideas to undermine his fellow teammates.

And now Benham was screwing things up all over again.

Rhys couldn’t help one last glance at his phone that told him no missed messages. He tried not to let it bother him as much as it did.

…

The only thing that could draw Feyre out of bed at five o’clock the next morning were the sounds of her daughter crying.

She’d gotten back at around midnight and spent a solid hour talking through things with Elain and Lucien. Mor, wonderful and thoughtful as she was, came by too in case Feyre needed anything else.

In all honesty, Feyre was too overwhelmed to know what she needed. What she wanted was to remain curled up in bed. But Seren was not going to self-soothe by the sound of it.

Feyre rolled out of bed and hurried to the spare room. The apartment was nicer than anything Feyre had thought she could afford as a single income holder with a scant two-year degree. But Vassa and Jurian had pulled a few strings to help her secure a lease. They were in a good neighborhood with decent sized rooms and heating and cooling that actually functioned. It was already better than what Feyre had grown up with.

She’d made it her own over the last year since moving in, too. The walls were painted a soft cream with a seafoam green accent wall in the living room. She’d put up her own paintings, photos of the family, of Seren. It was chaotic and messy at times, certainly. Feyre didn’t have a good place to store her paints so sometimes Seren decided the walls and floors needed a splash of color. And then there was the fact that even in the mess—it was quiet. And not the good sort of quiet.

“Oh, little star,” Feyre said as she scooped her daughter from her crib. Seren immediately nestled into her, her tear-stained face in her neck and body conforming perfectly to Feyre.

Rocking back and forth, Feyre soothed Seren as best she could before setting out for a binky search. She knew she should start weaning Seren soon from the thing, but she couldn’t bear it yet. At least she’d stopped breastfeeding within the last few months. Though, Feyre could honestly say she missed that connection it brought.

She found a spare binky and Seren’s favorite blanket before sitting in the rocking chair Nesta had bought her to accompany the nursery. It didn’t take long until Seren had calmed and the only remnants of her tears were the heavy breaths that pressed into Feyre’s chest.

“Good morning,” Feyre murmured as she pressed a kiss to Seren’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

Seren grunted, her eyes still drooping with sleep and the remnants of her rough wake-up.

“It’s hard to wake up, isn’t it?” Feyre agreed. She ran a hand over Seren’s back and kept rocking them for several more minutes.

Finally, Seren perked up and leaned away from Feyre. Her blue eyes went wide and her chubby fingers dug into Feyre’s shirt.

“Pancake, mama,” Seren said, “pancake.”

Ah yes. Once all the tears were out the only concern was food. Feyre shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Feyre agreed.

She stood, shifting Seren to her hip. They made their way to the kitchen while Seren babbled happily. Her blonde curls were in absolute chaos as they stuck out in every direction and her round cheeks were still pink from sleep. It almost hurt how much Feyre loved her daughter.

Feyre set Seren up in her high chair and peeled a banana to occupy her while she got the frozen pancakes from the freezer to warm up.

She tried to ignore the reminders of the previous night as she moved. The dishes that were carefully washed and dried, the leftovers stacked in the fridge, the extra cookies that Mor and snuck in at some point. Everything had been so nice and fun and had actually made Feyre feel like she belonged to something.

Only for it all to be ripped away by the vandalism. And meeting Benham Avitas.

She’d been stupid to think that Rhys would have actually been interested in her. Because really, Benhams words from last night made sense. Elections were coming up and Rhys wanted to keep his seat as mayor. What better publicity than helping the small business of a struggling single mother? What better campaigning than to be seen helping at a crime scene? Oh, she was sure there may have been some kindness in his actions, he wasn’t a complete asshole. But when she’d seen his texts last night all Feyre could feel was blind panic.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t play games.

Not with Seren. Not with her heart.

And then there was the truth of the matter that she’d been trying to ignore for a few days now: Tamlin knew about Seren and he was in town.

Feyre heated up the pancakes, poured a sippy cup of milk, and settled the meal before Seren. Happy with her pancakes, Seren continued babbling as she ate.

The distraction was all Feyre needed to start a pot of coffee and get her own breakfast going. Well, breakfast was a relative term. Lately, she hadn’t had an appetite and had been surviving on coffee and coffee alone. It at least made for cheap groceries when all she needed to buy was milk and frozen pancakes.

You’re better than that.

Feyre flinched at the thought. It was too reminiscent of what Tamlin would say to her.

She tossed a piece of toast in the toaster and watched as Seren tore up another pancake. They had chocolate chips in them and the melty bits smeared over Serens mouth and cheeks. Though, the baby hardly noticed or cared as she carried on eating.

When her toast and coffee were ready, Feyre quickly retrieved her phone from her room before taking a seat at the table next to the high chair. Seren was finally slowing down in her voracious appetite and was now drowning herself in milk.

Feyre ignored the messages from Rhys, not bothering to pay attention to the little preview either. Maybe later she’d work up the courage to see what he had to say. But she did may attention to a new contact that had messaged her.

NEW CONTACT: Hi Feyre! It’s Morrigan, I know you’re probably not up for it, but is it alright if I swing by this morning? I just want to drop some things off and see how you’re doing.

It took three more re-reads for Feyre to get a full grasp on the words. She couldn’t help the small tug of gratitude on her chest either. Feyre was certain that this message had been sent of Mor’s own volition, not prompted by Rhys or anything of the sort.

She saved the number and texted back.

Feyre: We are a mess of pancakes and milk. So if you’re alright with that, come on over.

Mor: Girl, we thrive on chaos.

Not even ten minutes later and Mor was knocking on the door as Feyre was trying to wipe Seren down. It was a losing battle, so Feyre let her child run around still partially smeared in chocolate and just her diaper.

Feyre answered the door, grateful she’d managed to change into clean leggings and a new t-shirt that had only one stain on it. Mor was flawless as ever, her blonde hair pulled into a low pony tail and makeup effortlessly neutral. She wore jeans and a graphic tee of a popular band on the front. If she’d had the energy, Feyre would have felt self-conscious over her own appearance.

“I brought bagels,” Mor said with a smile.

Seren ran through the background screaming.

“And Xanax, I hope,” Feyre joked.

Mor’s smile broadened. “We’ll save that for later.”

Feyre invited her in, grateful the house was still clean from last night's events. Seren had nabbed her favorite blanket and was occupying herself by pulling all of the childrens books from the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“How are you doing?” Mor asked as she handed Feyre a bagel. It had been toasted and was still warm and smothered in cream cheese.

Feyre sighed and settled into the coach, Mor following suit. “Fine? Maybe I’m still in shock. I want to go down there and be at my shop, but the officers said to wait a day and they’d tell me when I can get things back in order.”

She took a bite of the bagel; infinitely better than the poor slice of toast she’d had not ten minutes ago.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” Feyre said. “Thank-you.”

“The deli out on State Street is the best,” Mor affirmed. She had her own bagel and leaned into the couch, quiet for another moment before finally speaking up. “I hear you met Benham.”

Feyre arched one eyebrow. While she believed Mor wasn’t spying on her for Rhys, or even if he knew she was here, Mor wouldn’t say anything to her cousin—Feyre didn’t know how she wanted to broach this conversation.

“I did,” she said, taking another bite of bagel. It was mostly to buy herself time in answering.

Mor, however, was more than willing to provide her own opinions. “He’s a bastard. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

She picked at her own bagel, frown tugging on her lips.

Trying not to choke on her food, Feyre covered her mouth. “What?”

“Benham is the worst,” Mor said. She shrugged and licked cream cheese off her finger. “He wasn’t as bad as my dad, I’ll give him that, but he was so strict and cruel and just…terrible while growing up. The only thing that made going over to Rhys’ house as kids bearable was his mother.”

A soft smile stole across Mor’s face as she spoke. “And his sister, really. Thea’s years younger than him, just starting her junior year in high school, she’s just like him. Only a little less of an arrogant ass.”

Feyre shifted in her seat. “Why tell me this?”

It was an understandable question. Maybe a little forceful. But Feyre didn’t need games. Not right now.

Seren ran over to Mor, her stuffed kitty-cat in hand and thrust it at the blonde. “Rhys!”

“Is it Rhys?” Mor crooned softly. “He is looking pig-headed today.”

“Yeah!” Seren chirped, oblivious to the jibe at the cat’s namesake. She toddled away to the pile of building blocks in the middle of the room.

“I’m never going to get over that,” More mused. She gave another smile before growing serious in her acknowledgement of Feyre’s question. “I know my cousin, Feyre. He likes you. I haven’t seen him like this about someone in…a while. And he’s somehow found a chivalrous bone in his body and won’t say it to you himself.”

Feyre’s traitorous heart skipped a beat at Mor’s words. She really hadn’t let herself think on the possibility of she and Rhys. Hadn’t wanted to let herself even consider that possibility despite the fact that she actually liked him. Which in and of itself was ridiculous. She had a daughter that wasn’t even two yet and a new business. What would she even do in the face of a prospective romance?

And still, the memory of his smile, the way he’d stayed by her side after Tamlin’s appearance--all remained far too prominent on her mind. It had been so long since someone had actually cared for her (outside her sister and Lucien) that she didn’t even know how to recognize it or acknowledge it.

“And how does Benham fit into this?” Feyre asked.

“He will do whatever it takes to see his family succeed,” Mor said simply. “He probably tried to get under your skin or lie to you about Rhys? All he’s ever been concerned about it what his kids can accomplish. Not if they’re happy.”

The words made sense. It certainly felt like a wedge had been driven in what little relationship had been budding between her and Rhys. But…Feyre couldn’t help but see the truth in Benhams insinuations.

Feyre shook her head, dread sludging around in her belling and utterly demolishing her appetite.

“It doesn’t matter,” Feyre said. She tucked the rest of her bagel away in its wrappings, knowing she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

“It doesn't—Feyre,” Mor said, sitting up a little straighter. “Whatever Benham said—”

Sighing, Feyre waved a dismissive hand. “Mor. My life is in shambles. It’s messy and ridiculous. I just…I can’t do this. I can’t make Rhys go through this. I can’t make anyone go through this.”

Even without the baby complication and the abusive ex…Feyre didn’t know what it was like to be in a good relationship. She didn’t know how to be in a good relationship. And, truth be told, she was the mess. She was ridiculous. Not just her life. It all came down to her.

That thought was all it took for tears to prick in her eyes and her chest to tighten in pain.

Sympathy fell over Mor’s features and she scooted closer on the couch to Feyre. She reached out a hand to lay on Feyre’s arm.

“And Tamlin?” Feyre stuttered just a little. She had no idea why she was spilling so much to Mor, but damn, it had been so long since she’d had a friend to talk to. Someone she could trust. And while her sisters were wonderful…their relationship was complicated. “Tamlin wasn’t a good man.”

It was all she could say then but Mor seemed to understand. She pulled Feyre into a hug and murmured softly in comforting undertones. Feyre held on to the hug like her life depended on it.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand single parent au #single parent au #acotar #fanfiction #fic #an intimate display

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call-me-strega · 2 months

Text

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: p. 2, ch.2/5(?)

Happy Late Valentine’s Day my dudes.

(This is Unedited, the cleaner version is on ao3)

First, prev, lore, ao3

~~~

It was a week later that Jason ran into his neighbors again. Or well, actually Red Hood ran into them. Then again “ran into” was a bit of a strong (read: inaccurate) description. He had more so observed from afar than ran into them per-say.

He had just landed on a rooftop when heard the sound of increasingly familiar giggles. A cold wind pushed against his helmet as turned to the source. Lo and behold there was the father-daughter heading on the direction of their apartment complex. It was about two blocks from their current location.

‘Well,’ Jason thought. ‘2 blocks off my normal route won’t hurt. I’ll just make sure I see them arrive safely and then continue on with my patrol.’

He watched as Ellie is rushed down the street waving around her toy space shuttle, eager to get home. She ran further ahead from Danny who had his hands full with groceries. He called after her to stay where he could see her and she just giggled and gleefully replied with and “Okay Daddy!”

Jason smiled at their interaction. He felt a sense of comfort and longing seeing such a close and loving pair. However, his smile faded as a pit formed in his gut. His instincts could sense was something off and from the corner of his eye he saw some movement in the alley the Ellie was approaching. As quickly and silently as possible Jason crossed the rooftops to get closer.

Just as Ellie reached the opening of the alley some two-bit thug reached out and pulled her into the alley. The young girl cried out as she dropped her shuttle. She called out to her dad in distress.

“Daddy!”

“ It’ll be okay Ellie! I’m coming! Remember what I told you?!”

Danny called back took of down the road trying to reach his daughter.

This seemed to calm her down as her fear became more manageable. She stop struggling and did her to glared at her would be kidnapper. Jason finally arrive on the roof top ready to drop into the alley and intervene when he witnessed a series of events that stunned him.

Ellie kicked the guy in the nuts with as much force as her little body could muster.

Which appeared to be quite a lot based on the sound that came outa the guy as he let go of her. Just then Danny reached the alley abandoning his groceries by an empty box at the mouth of the alley.

“Ellie!” He exclaimed reach out to gathers her in his arms. He held her tightly and stoked her hair trying to calm her. “ It’s okay baby, I’m here. Daddy’s here Ell. I’m not gonna let anyone take you,” he assured her.

The guy growled as he managed to get back up. He bagan to advance towards them once again with a switch blade in hand this time. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get very far in his plan to use it as Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out some thing labeled “Creep Repellant”. Just as the guy got close Danny pushed Ellie behind him, lifted his arm and maced the guy to distract him. The man cried out in pain and ended up dropping his blade. Then Danny pulled back and clocked the guy in the nose. He stumbled back groaning.

Danny didn’t give him another chance to regain his wits. He just turned, picked up Ellie, and booked it home.

Jason witnessed all of this almost starstruck by the way the how the dad handled himself and his kid. His major priority was making sure Ellie got out of the situation safely even if he had to abandon his groceries and Ellie’s toy to do it. Jason decided to make sure they won’t be followed by this guy. He dropped in and quickly knocked the guy out. Then he zip-tied him to a pipe and called for someone to come pick up guy up before he decided to hand him over to one of his Lieutenants instead. None of them would take to kindly to a potential child trafficker.

Jason walked back to the mouth of the alley and examined the abandoned groceries in the same galaxy-print reusable bags he’d seen Danny use at the store last time. He picked them up, along with the toy space shuttle, and took the back to the apartment complex. He left them in-front of Danny’s door with a note from Jason saying he found them in an alley and believed them to be Danny’s because he recognized the bags and one of the toys Ellie had shown him.

Was it a bit weird? Perhaps, but it could be played off as a coincidence and made more sense than the Red Hood leaving them on the Nightingales’ fire escape.

Later that night Jason’s brain kept replaying the image of a six-year-old kicking a grown man in the balls and her father proceeding to pepper spray and deck the dude. It brought a smile to his face to see that Ellie was well protected and evidently being taught how to protected herself too. He felt his fondness towards them grow once more. (He tried to ignore the part of his brain that kept replayed Danny’s punch and whispered ‘that’s kinda hot’)

~~~

About three days later Jason was driving home from the Wayne Foundation on his bike when his engine started stalling and losing power. He cursed his luck and decided to take a turn to head to his favorite mechanic's shop.

Ol' man Sammy had started the shop when he was still a kid and his grand-nephew Leandro, Leo for short, started working under him when he had just started out as Red Hood. They were good people who didn't mind acting as informants in exchange for Hood's protection. Nor did they mind the Jason Todd-Wayne showing up from time to time. As far as they were concerned he was another alley tyke grown up, now a paying customer and potential investor.

Last he heard from them was a month when Sammy officially passed on the reins to Leo and settled into retirement with his wife Avellana. Word had it Leo had been looking for a new hand around the shop and Jason had sent a couple of guys looking to get out of the henchman business his way knowing if Leo didn't hire 'em he might direct them to a cousin who would. He wondered vaguely if Leo ever did end up hiring someone. 'Well I suppose I'll find out soon enough' he thought pulling up into the workshop.

Jason pulled his helmet off, feeling a fresh breeze hit his face, and called out to the two men he saw working on a truck. One of them was examining something under the hood and the other working on the underside. He tucked his helmet under his arm but didn't get off the bike yet. He called out to the two guys.

"Oy Leo, compa! Is that you?"

The man inspecting the hood pulled his head out and gave Jason an impish grin.

"Oh man, Jasón is that you güey?!" The wiry, oil-slick man came over to greet him. Shaking his hand and pulling him into a half-hug.

" You here to get something fixed man?"

Jason slide off his bike and nodded back at it.

"Engine keeps stalling, I was hoping you could take a look," He then glanced back over to the man still working under the truck. " How's Ol' Sammy doing? I see you got the new hands you were looking for."

Leo grinned back, enthusiastic as ever. "Yeah man, he's new in town but good with his hands and a hard worker. Tio approved of him before he left. He and Tia are on vacation right now, went back to visit her family."

That's when a phone rang in the office. Leo sighed turning to Jason.

" Hey man I gotta take this but the new guy can totally get you set up. I'll be right back."

He turned and called out to the man under the truck "Ay chavo! We got a customer man! Come help 'im out while I get the phone!" before rushing of to the office.

The man finally pulled out from under the car and staring back at him were familiar blue eyes and a face smudged with oil. Danny grinned up at Jason as he began to walk over.

"Well hey there stranger, funny running into you here. Guess you must be friends with Leo and Sammy, huh? A real man of the people you are?"

" Uh, hey," Jason felt himself flush with embarrassment, his hand coming up to scratch his nape. " I mean yeah I guess so. I've known them almost as long as I've been able to walk so..."

" I'd like to thank you."

" Huh?" Jason met his eyes with a confused look.

" For finding and returning my groceries and Ellie's shuttle I mean. I got real lucky you happened to find them, otherwise that'd have half a paycheck down the drain. I'm grateful for what you did."

"It was no big deal," he said glancing away. He looked back to see a soft look on Danny's face.

" It meant a lot to me" he replied softly.

The two gazed into each others eyes for a moment before Danny turned his attention to the bike.

" You said the engine was stalling?"

Jason nodded in reply as Danny began to inspect the vehicle. After few minutes Leo emerged from the office just as Danny gave his verdict.

"It need a couple of new filters and an adjustment of the throttle position sensor and then it should be good as new."

" Perfecto!" Leo exclaimed walking out of the office. "You can handle that while I had out. Some guy in Chinatown needs a tow so I gotta take the tow truck and go."

He turned to address Jason. "You can trust Danny here with the bike, I wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't any good!"

He clapped Jason's shoulder before rushing out to his truck. Jason turned to Danny who shrugged and gave him a helpless grin.

" You got experience handling bikes?" Jason questioned.

" Sure do, I knew this one asshole back home who had a pretty sick ride. I ended making friends with him somehow and he taught me about 'em. I've already worked on a couple for Leo here too." Danny replied before walking over to the register.

" Here, I'll ring up an estimate for you. If you decide to leave her here with me I can have her done in an hour-hour and a half and you can pay when you come to collect her."

Jason decided he was willing to let Danny handle his bike. He figured he could just walk a block and grab some dinner at that Mexican-Caribbean fusion place nearby.

" I'll let you take care of her, like Leo said, he wouldn't have hired you if you weren't any good."

Now it was Danny's turn to flush. He fiddled around at the register before talking to Jason again.

" So can I get your number?"

" Huh-?!" Jason startled. Danny flushed even deeper and pointed at the pen and notepad on the counter.

" For the job! I’ll send you a call or text when it's done!"

Jason's face broke into a wicked grin. "Sure," he teased picking up a pen.

"Here's my work number," he said handing Danny a piece of paper. " And here-," he paused to write another number. "is my personal line. But that ones just for you neighbor. So don't go spreading it around," he winked.

He turned to walk out as he heard Danny spluttering behind him. And despite the expletives Danny called after him, he could do nothing to disguise the fondness in his voice.

Later that evening, Jason rode home on his newly serviced bike. He'd offered to give Danny a ride home but he still had an hour of his shift left and reassured him that he would be fine to make it home by himself. He took not of how well the bike was running. 'Purrs like a kitten' he thought. The voice in the back of his head once again returned to chime in 'Nothing like a man who's competent at his job'. Jason cursed the voice out, revving his bike and ripping down the street.

~~~

A few days couple of days later Jason receives a text:

"Hey its Danny. You run a soup kitchen with the Wayne Foundation right?"

Jason is instantly filled with concern. Did the Nightingales hit a financial pit fall? Was Danny hurt and unable to work? Did that creep stop paying his child support? He quickly wrote back to Danny

"Yeah why?"

"Ellie made friends with another girl in the building whose mom mentioned "soup night" was coming up and she came home and asked me about it.

I'm lucky that Leo pays well and Vlad's got plenty of money to cough up that we don't really have a need to go but I figured this might be a good learning opportunity to help Ellie understand both our and her friends situations.

I was hoping you had room for a few extra volunteers?"

Jason felt his worries melt away, just like his heart.

"We always have room for more volunteers

I'll text you the details"

That following Sunday Jason was organizing volunteers to set up the rec center he'd established last year step up for the soup kitchen. He was directing people with trays of food while his assistant/partner Irene ran through hygiene rules with some of the volunteer servers.

Behind him Jason felt the door open and a refreshing rush of wind filled the air as his newest recruits walked in. The daddy-daughter duo walk up to Jason and Danny gave him a little 2 fingered salute.

" Volunteers Danny and Ell reporting for duty!"

Jason gave them a soft smile.

" Hey guys, it’s nice to see you. This is Irene, my second-in-command. She'll run you through the serving protocols and get you ready to help. Danny you'll probably end up handling food while Ellie takes up resupplying utensils, plates, napkins and bottled drinks."

Danny smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair who giggled enthusiastically with a determined smile on her face.

" I think that'll work for us!" he said, turning to Irene who greeted them with a warm smile and led them over to her section.

About 15 minutes later Irene sidled up to him with a cheeky grin. Informing him he'd left Danny and Ellie with some of the other, more experienced volunteers.

" Sooooooo," Irene wiggled her eyebrows at him.

" Sooooooo- what?" he returned to her with a blank stare.

" When were you gonna tell me you had a crush on your new neighbor!"

Jason's face turned red as two more of their colleagues descent upon Jason having overheard what Irene said. Like sharks to blood in the water he swore.

First John, who was also one of Hood's men, whipped around and exclaimed. "What?! Jason you have a crush on your neighbor! What about Hood?!"

" For the 50th time Johnny, I'm not dating Hood. And its not a crush Irene!" Jason said in exasperation.

That's when Fern, the non-binary rec center manager, popped up behind him and said "What's this about Jason having a crush?"

Jason once again protested futilely that he didn't have a crush while Irene gleefully filled Fern in.

" Jason's totally got the hots for the hot, single, young dad who's volunteering with his daughter tonight! You should have seen how soft his face got when they showed up. And get this! Their actually neighbors and Jason's already been to their house for dinner!"

Fern whistled while Jason spluttered.

" How do you even know about that?!"

" Your crush let it spill while we were making small talk," she shrugged.

Jason groaned. None of them were gonna let this go.

"Come on you guys, its nearly time to start. Go get into your places," he insisted.

They relented but Irene shot him a mischievous look that told him he wouldn’t be escaping their teasing at a later date. Sigh.

Jason took his place in line manning the mashed potatoes. He felt someone nudge his shoulder and turned his head to see Danny standing next to him.

" Irene put me in charge of the green beans"

Oooh Irene we will be having words later!

"- and Ellie's been put on crowd control, which I think is just their way of saying she should take any kids done eating to the other room to play."

He smiled up at Jason, who of course smiled back.

"Lets do this" he said as the doors opened and their night of volunteering began.

It was a busy night so he and Danny didn't have much time to talk, but Jason learned a great deal just by observing. As his night went on he only saw more and more what amazing people the Nightingale's were. Thoughtful and kind without being condescending. Both Danny and Ellie were incredibly compassionate people.

Danny made an effort to be kind to anyone who came up to him and tried to connect with them in order to make them more comfortable. Ellie was a hit with the kids. She was strong-willed, outspoken and quickly took to speaking up for the shyer kids. She ended up amassing a little posse of her own. She made sure all her newfound friends got to try the foods they wanted and to get their turns with the toys in the game room.

As Jason continued to scoop out mashed potatoes and ignore suggestive glances and cheeky smiles from his friend he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and warmth. This was something he built through his efforts to help the Alley and he got to share it with two people he was growing to care about deeply. In turn not only had they shown an interest what he was trying to do here but actively sought to help others with him.

Jason took in the sight of Ellie leading a gang of smiling children. He made another sidelong glance at Danny, who was bonding with a young boy who said the green beans reminded him of a mythological creature. Privately he thought to himself that maybe Irene was on to something with her whole crush theory.

~~~ Thats all for this chapter. I do have some stuff planned for the rest of this section so look forward to that. Once again I welcome any comments or constructive criticism!

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writers-ex · 1 year

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single parent reader getting enough of gp teacher itzy being touchy and making flirty/sexual comments during drop of and pick up and whispering in itzy's ear to do something abt it(and they do)

its no secret they have the biggest crush on you and you can't help but express subtly that you feel the same so one day when there's a need for a parent chaperone you quickly sign up and are chosen by the girls, they request that you stay afterschool for 'additional information' on the trip so while your kid goes to aftercare to hang out with their friends and do homework his teachers are actually doing you in one of their classrooms far away from the children as they take turns keeping you quiet with sloppy kisses and eating out of you, you go from riding on one girl's dick to sucking on the boob of another while a third is marking up your neck, you end up passing out and the girls end up taking you back home with your kid but they stay the night explaining to the kid that you're just sleep but they'll be there to help mommy feel better and they do bc they are soft for your kid and your tits <3

#single parent au #single parent!reader #teacher!itzy #itzy hard hours #itzy hard thoughts #anon.txt #itzy #itzy smut #itzy ot5 smut #itzy ot5 #gp!itzy #g!pitzy #g!p itzy

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gokartkid · 1 year

Note

Maxiel single dad Daniel AU

“And remember what we talked about, okay?”

Daniel squats in front of Ella, holds her little hand. She looks seriously at him, big eyes and pouting lips.

“No biting,” she says, and it takes all his effort not to laugh as she shakes his hand, just as seriously as if she were completing a business deal. He glances up to Max standing in the doorway, fist at his mouth to keep from laughing. It almost gets Daniel to break, and he looks down and away quickly.

“No biting,” he repeats, nodding, “because—?”

“Because it isn’t nice,” she sticks out her tongue, “and I can fight with my words.”

“Well,” Daniel laughs and stands up, brushing off his knees, “I meant you can try and talk it out. But fighting with your words is okay too.”

Ella crosses her arms and juts out her chin, tucking her hair behind her ears self-importantly.

“Sometimes you just have to, dad!”

“Sure,” Daniel says gently, and reaches down scrub at her hair; watches her yelp and bat him away, giggling, “okay, come on champ. Go to the car, we’ll be there in a sec.”

She runs out the door, pausing for a second to hitch her bag up onto her back— it was Frozen themed, much like a lot of items Ella had begged for during her ongoing phase of obsession with the franchise.

Daniel sighs once she’s left, fondly.

“Man, what a terror, huh?”

“She is very good at standing up for herself,” Max offers, smiling, “I’m sure that they deserved it.”

“You can’t say that about kids!” Daniel says and now he’s properly laughing— he watches Max’s face split delightedly into a smile, “but, I mean, you’re right. I think I have to meet their parents or something, so I’ll report back.”

“Mm,” Max says, crossing his arms, “so what did you want to talk about?”

Daniel shoves his hands into his pockets. He can just see Ella squatting in the grass, face screwed up in concentration as she picks the dandelions out of their lawn. Something squeezes in his chest as he looks at her, all encompassing.

There’s no easy way to say it.

“I’m off again soon. Landed another job.”

“I see,” Max says, and he doesn’t look disappointed— he wouldn’t be so obvious —but there’s something in his face that changes. Or maybe that’s just Daniel projecting, “you were here for longer last time.”

“Yeah,” Daniel chews at the inside of his cheek, looks away. There’s a photo of him and Ella on the table by the door, her lifted up above his head and giggling, him looking up at her, squinting in the sun, “I tried but— you know. Scheduling conflicts. They’re flying me out at the end of the week.”

“That’s—“ Max pauses, recalibrates. Daniel can see his mouth work as he thinks of the right thing to say— he’s good at that kind of thing. They’re friends, sure, but Daniel’s also his employer. Max knows the line, “that’s very soon. She’ll miss you.”

“Mm,” Daniel can see Ella now with a bouquet fisted in her hand, holding the flowers up and close to her face, “I know. I’ll miss her too, but— well. I guess she’s used to it now.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” Max says quietly. Daniel looks at him, where he’s looking out the door too.

“No,” Daniel admits, “it doesn’t.” He tries to recover, clearing his throat and clapping a hand on Max’s shoulder, “at least she’s got you though. Babysitter extraordinaire. She really loves you.”

“Yes,” Max says softly, eyes resting on Ella lying down in the grass and giggling, “I love her too.”

#in my mind daniels an actor and he looks after ella bc her mum doesn't want to (pays child support)#but obvs he cant be there all the time so max is like a babysitter/au pair vibe #and his career has just started picking up like internationally after just being a local aus celeb #so now he's jet setting around the world for longer and having to balance everything #yeah....#maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #my fic #asks #single parent au

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allsassnoclass · 5 months

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Kid fic prompts

Had a request to gather some prompts about characters with kids! Most of these are single parent aus, but there are other iterations of characters with kids as well.

While I came up with some of these, many of these come from my AU notebook, which is years and years old and from before I properly sourced things. If they are from your prompt list, please let me know and I'll credit or remove them, which ever you prefer!

I'm the band teacher and you're the new choir teacher at this under-funded public school

We knew each other in high school and ran into each other at the grocery store and my teenage child saw the interaction and is now trying to set us up

I PUT THE KID I'M BABYSITTING DOWN FOR TWO SECONDS HOW ARE THEY GONE WHERE-- oh you found them and are now holding them and searching for their guardian

We're camp counselors at the summer camp that we both went to as little kids

We both work at Disney World and all of the little kids LOVE you

Alternatively, you work at Disney World and I did not mentally prepare myself for spending a full day at the park with my child and no adult backup and you're an employee who is saving my life at every turn

I don't like you and you don't like me but our best friends died in a car crash and left their 1-year-old child in our custody so now we've got to act civil and learn how to co-parent

You run my kid's daycare

I'm only at this park because my younger sibling wanted to come (not because I'm secretly a small child inside haha what are you talking about) why are YOU here?

We both babysit the same kid on different days and I have to listen to the kid gush about you the entire time I'm watching them and we're FINALLY meeting at the kid's birthday party

We are overly invested soccer parents

I'm the host of a children's TV show and you're the child supervisor on set

The kids we're escorting to trick or treating on Halloween just dropped their bags and got all of their candy mixed up

I accidentally scared a kid on Halloween and their adult is angry

Your kid keeps kicking the back of my seat on this airplane

Hey we hooked up last night and it turns out you're my kid's teacher

My parents died and left me, a barely legal adult, in charge of my kid sibling and the only person that I can be myself around is you, some guy I work with at my crappy minimum wage job

My baby insists on crying all night long and you came into the hallway of our apartment complex to see what's up and offer help

We're the only single parents in the play group and all of the other parents are definitely shipping us hardcore

My kid threw a fit at the ice cream/toy/whatever store and you were the only person nice enough to help without judging me

Our kids are best friends and oh look we're both single so I guess I'll ask you out for a drink

I'm on the bus and my 2-year-old won't stop crying except you just smiled at them and they did

I asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again

You asked me to the store with you and your child and now my distant relative we met thinks I'm married with a kid

We're friends and my child's first word was your name and I'm jealous and also kind of endeared

You've been sleeping at mine because you're house is being renovated and we aren't even dating, yet every time you wake up to the baby crying and sigh "I'll go" I feel like we might as well be married

We've been on a few dates and my child just asked us when we're getting married

Our children are in the same class and we both hate the teacher, eventually the parent's evenings are just us competing at who can call out snarkier comments

We are the only two parents to agreed to attend the school trip (bonus: so I guess we share this hotel room...?)

I'm so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt--actually never mind, I agree, that shirt is horrendous

You crouched down to coo at my baby but I forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is play with people's hair and now they won't let go of you

I work as an elf at a mall Santa grotto and you keep bringing a seemingly endless supply of kids through to meet Santa

#prompts #kid fic prompts #single parent au #teacher au #i have written one of these and i have plans for a few more

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longtimenospooning-luci · 2 years

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Cat's Cradle

Summary: After five years of back-breaking work under your hardass boss Min Yoongi, you can finally step back and live your life well with your son and his rowdy uncles. Opening a Cafe with your eldest brother Seokjin after so many setbacks was euphoric, but what happens when your ex-boss finds his way into your cafe? Will everything fall apart again or will your life finally piece back together?

Pairings: Panther Hybrid Yoongi x Single mom Reader, Sibling Kim line Feat. Best friends Hoseok and Jikook.

Warnings: Cussing (I mean who am I if I don't include cussing), mention of pervy old men, a deadbeat ex, angst between yoongles and Joon. Open but fluffy ending teehee 😈

Word Count: 4.4k

Surprise! I've had this in my drafts since April, so I decided to finish it up and post it. I hope you enjoy and pls look forward to the next chapter of ACR in the coming week or so.

"You've done great tonight Y/n, I think we have the deal made with the Choi's."

You're sitting in the backseat of a luxurious sedan with your boss, Min Yoongi, heading back to the company after a dazzling dinner party for the most posh and elite members of Seoul's society. Having worked for him for five years now, you were well attuned to the Panther hybrids personality and high expectations. You knew anything and everything about him, and yet, you're pretty sure he doesn't even know your birthday.

Tonight is the night you're going to announce your resignation after years of dedicated work. Planning this moment for months at the encouragement of your family, having put it off until the breaking point.

"Thank you, sir." You reply, looking out the window and taking a deep breath to steel your nerves.

"You should tell me what you would like as a reward, that was good work, you deserve something nice."

"Sir, that won't be necessary."

"Don't tell me no Y/n, you've worked with me long enough to know I don't reward people often."

His retort had cut you off from revealing your intentions of resigning, and it only sets your nerves on fire.

It was way past midnight and he had forced you to stay for the after-dinner drinks, leaving you alone to fend off the grubby hands of inappropriate old men. You were tired in more ways than one and you had been skirting around tipsy grab-ass attempts all night while the love of your life was waiting for you to return home.

"Actually, sir, the reason why I said that is because I'll be resigning now." A hint of annoyance in your voice.

His ears perk in shock and then flatten, boring his eyes into you. ". . . What? What are you talking about?"

"I'll be handing in my letter of resignation on Monday, sir. I'm very thankful for the years we've spent together and everything You've taught me but, I'm leaving the company."

"I don't understand" He almost whines. "Did you get another offer? Is it the pay? Or the hours? Why are you resigning?" Firing off the questions in bewilderment.

"No, sir. I've just determined it's the best decision for me."

"In what way is it the best decision!?"

"I understand this may seem rash and unwise to you, but this is something I considered and chosen after a lot of thought. I truly believe this is what's best for me and I hope you can respect that."

"I... Okay, I-I wish you the best then..."

Your heart unclenches and a breath of relief releases from your chest. Giving him a soft smile, you thank him and turn your gaze back out the window. Unable to see the heartbroken look on his face when you turn away from him.

It's been two weeks since you dropped the bomb on Yoongi's heart and announced your resignation, and now he watches you smile brightly through the glass panes of his office as you celebrate your last day with the rest of the executive team workers.

He had never imagined that you would leave him one day, and now it's burning a hole through his soul.

At first you had just been a young girl so poor and in a mess, she had to settle for an assistant position despite having an elite degree. You had once told a coworker the reason was because you couldn't afford to go through an intern position in your career field. You had to sacrifice the life you wanted in order to do what you needed to survive. Overhearing the conversation between the two of you from outside the breakroom.

He had always held a deep-rooted annoyance and dislike towards you for skipping out on the hard work for your career in exchange for money. Clawing his way to the top of his own company as a poor orphan from Daegu. But listening to that conversation struck something in him and softened his heart, he understood what it was like to make sacrifices to your own happiness in order to live.

After that instead of being a hardass just to be one, he was a hardass in order to teach you and allow you to grow in the business world. Instead of being the meek woman behind the powerful CEO, you became the fortress around him.

No one worked in their society and didn't know your name.

Other assistants revered you and directors knew they could never get around you, handling the inner workings of Yoongi's company like a well-oiled machine. Nothing got past you or swept under the rug without you knowing, and no-one got the drop on him because you had already seen it coming.

Two years into your job with him and he treasured you as his most valuable employee and friend, never daring to think more of the relationship than that. But when you had single-handedly prevented the total collapse and takeover of the company from a rival, you stole the panther's heart irrevocably.

Now here he is three years later and you're leaving him when you weren't even truly his. He had no right to stop you and he knew he had no right to use his feelings to get you to stay. The same scent of another had always clung to you from the time he could identify it from your own. It had told him all he needed to know, you were taken and there was nothing he could do about it.

Stepping into the café that night after bidding your former coworkers and boss a final goodbye, you had never felt freer.

"Eomma!" Your son yells, hopping down from his stool behind the counter next to your eldest brother. Bounding towards you like always.

"Hi my little kitten! Were you good for Uncle Jinnie today?" Wrapping your arms around him and looking at his cute face, his black cat tail flicking behind him in happiness.

"Mhm! He's teaching me how to make Brownies!" He chirps back at you, slipping from you and back over to his uncle.

As a working mom the best part of your day is coming into the café your family owned after work to hear the happy shout of 'eomma!' from your little boy. Now after five years of hard work you can step back and run the shop with your brother without any worries of supporting your son.

Years long before Yeonjun was born you had dreamed of opening a Café with your eldest brother, working hard to get a scholarship to Seoul National University and graduating with honors. But life had its ways of throwing wrenches into your plans, you had gotten into a relationship with someone you thought loved you and you loved them. But when you found out you were pregnant, he disappeared like a coward, and like a domino effect your life came crashing down after you gave birth to your little kitten when your parents passed in an accident.

They had left debts unknown to you and your siblings and being the older siblings; You, Seokjin, and Namjoon shouldered the burden of that debt to protect Taehyung while he was still in High School. The money Seokjin and you had saved for the cafe opening had gone to the repayment and had still only managed to cover half of it. Namjoon sacrificed his full focus on college in order to work part-time jobs to help. Jin got a job as a pastry chef and after Yeonjun was old enough to leave with a daycare you snagged the assistant position under Yoongi.

It had taken the three of you two years to pay off the debt, barely scraping by on the strictest of budgets, and two more years for you to save up to open the café. Thankfully the two of you had already bought the building before everything came to a halt, and you only needed the money to make it operational.

Your little kitten tells you all about his day at school with his teacher Mr. Park and helping your older brother in the café as you stand and walk around the counter to greet Seokjin, before heading through the kitchen to the stairs that lead to the apartment above. Despite what most people would think, the home is much larger that it appears on the outside, spanning two stories like a townhouse and equipped with 5 bedrooms and 3 1/2 baths. You send Yeonjun back downstairs so you can change out of your work clothes and get started on dinner, living with your three brothers and a five year old can be hard sometimes but you all work together to make sure things get done around the house.

Walking back into the kitchen in your comfy clothes you hear the door open to reveal your twin brother Namjoon and younger brother Taehyung.

"Hey, how was work?" you ask the two as you begin to pull ingredients out of the fridge.

Namjoon starts first as he plops down on one of the stools at the island, "It was good, I'll be able to release my mixtape soon." You beam at him, proud of his hard work as a musician while working as a producer for other artists.

"What about you Tae?" The youngest of the Kim siblings worked as an art teaching assistant at a local college, giving music lessons on the side.

"It was pretty good, Jungkook made a complete fool of himself again today by volunteering as the nude model for the freshman course, he got chased out of the class by our old professor with a ruler."

Both you and Namjoon laugh at this, picturing the scene in your heads of Taehyung's mischievous best friend, who was a vocal teaching assistant at the same school.

The rest of your day went smoothly preparing dinner and getting Yeonjun settled and ready for bed, grateful that you could finally spend time with him and see him consistently every day. You should have known your luck would run out again though when your former boss walks into the café the next morning.

"Welcome to Cats Cradle Café how can I help- Mr. Min!?"

The both of you freeze as you stare with slack jaws, expressions mirroring each other.

"You decided to quit so you could... work here, Miss Kim?" He speaks the question slowly, as if trying to figure out if he stepped into an alternate reality.

"Um, well... I guess you could say that. I own this shop actually." You reply hesitantly.

You can see the gears in his brain turning as he stares at you in silence after you divulge the reality of the situation. He doesn't have the chance to respond to the revelation however, when your son knocks him out of his stupor, catching both of your attention when he opens the door to the café.

Taehyung and Jungkook hot on his heels as he runs to where you are behind the counter, "Eomma! Look what Uncle Kookie bought me!"

The boy holds up for you to see a pink microphone with a cartoon rabbit on it, wrapped up in a box.

"Oh, baby that's so cool! Did you thank Uncle Kookie like you're supposed to?"

Your son wouldn't notice the change of intonation in your voice, but you stab Jungkook a thousand times with your glare for getting a noisy toy like this for Yeonjun.

Jungkook shuffles at your glare to hide behind Taehyung as Yeonjun thanks him for the toy.

"You're welcome, buddy! Uncle Kookie has to go now but I promise I'll teach you how to use it another day okay? Bye Noona!" Inching his way backwards Jungkook nearly sprints out the door when he finishes his sentence, hoping to escape your motherly wrath.

Upon his departure you turn your attention back onto your nearly forgotten former boss, "Would you like your usual Mr. Min?"

You watch the way his black tail flicks nervously behind him as he nods, the black ears on his head flattened to blend in with his dark hair.

"Hey Ahjussi you have a cat tail like me." Yeonjun has reached up to grab Yoongi's hand to get his attention, and the both of you stare at your son in shock.

Thankfully Taehyung steps in for you, "Yeonjun, you know better than to touch people without their permission."

The boys' ears flatten as his tail curls around his leg, not yet long enough to curl around his body.

"Sorry Uncle TaeTae, sorry Ahjussi." He bows to Yoongi and takes Taehyung's hand to go sit at their usual table for his weekend music lessons with his uncle.

"Mr. Min are you alright?" He had been captivated with watching your son walk away, ears following the movement.

"Uh, yea sorry this is just a lot to take in." Jin walks in behind you from the café office where he was ordering supplies and takes over for you at the counter.

"Thank you, y/n." You take off the apron and grab the Iced americano you had made for Yoongi, walking around the counter to your ex-boss.

"You're welcome, Jin." Calling back to him over your shoulder, you stop in front of the panther hybrid and silently hand him his coffee, speaking up after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"If you have some time, would you like to sit and talk?" his ears perk up at your question and you almost giggle at the behavior, never seeing his hybrid features betray his calm façade often.

After agreeing, the two of you settle at a table near Yeonjun and your brother so you could monitor their shenanigans.

"I never knew you had a son; I didn't even know you were married much less." Yoongi begins the conversation as he looks at the little boy, missing the frown that comes across your face at his words.

"That's because I'm not married." His head whips to focus on you, eyes wide in surprise, and he can see now the sour look that mars your features.

To you his reaction is just that of surprise, but in reality, it's a look of hope, being completely oblivious to the fact that your big bad boss has been harboring a crush behind his cold behavior all these years.

He decided to do his best to act like his feelings never existed all those years ago and he had been doing well for three whole years until the single phase 'eomma' nearly tore his heart out.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume, is the man at the counter your boyfriend then?"

You bark out a laugh at this, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment at his own question.

"That's my eldest brother actually, the man sitting with Yeonjun is my younger brother and my twin brother is at work right now."

If his cheeks had been pink before they're on fire now, his keen sense of smell had always identified three male scents lingering occasionally along with a constant feline presence. Now that you've explained it to him though, all these years of repressed jealousy are downright mortifying to him. Not to mention the fact that the male behind the counter isn't even a hybrid.

"Yeonjun's father actually isn't in the picture, it's why I never told you or anyone else in the office. You'd be surprised at how many job offers got rescinded when they found out I was a single mom." You speak quietly, looking out of the window to avoid Yoongi seeing the hurt expression on your face.

He doesn't have to see your face to know you're hurt though; he can tell by the change in your scent and the tone of your voice.

Not saying anything further on the topic to prevent upsetting you more, he notices the way your son locks his attention on you when he gets a waft of your sad scent in the air.

The boy hops down from his chair, ignoring his uncles' protests and makes his way over to you, his hybrid instincts telling him to protect and comfort you.

He climbs into your lap and snuggles his face into your neck when you wrap your arms around him, letting out little purrs meant to comfort you.

Yoongi smiles at the scene before him and he selfishly wishes to himself that the boy was his own and watching the two of you was a normal part of his day.

Since your run in with Yoongi at the café he started to spend his weekends hanging out around you and your family in the shop. Even meeting Jimin, Yeonjun's teacher and the third troublemaker to your younger brother's friend group, and your best friend Hoseok. The only person he has yet to meet Namjoon, which is where this VERY awkward situation is stemming from as Yoongi unknowingly discusses with you a PR plan that he's been having trouble with to collaborate with your brother.

Joon had recently released his mixtape and it had blown up on the charts, leading to the marketing team suggesting adding him to the list of possible collaboration candidates. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi had completely been sold on his music the second he listened to it, and now you find yourself in the pickle of whether or not to tell your ex-boss that the rapper he's gushing about is your twin brother.

"Hell no." Joon blanches when you ask him that night.

You had gotten Jin to help you by requesting Namjoon take over the café with you for a little while so he could run some errands. Hopefully giving you enough time to convince the man, and if that failed you had hoped Yoongi could convince him when he stopped by for his regular visits.

Despite the rocky feelings you had towards the CEO while working for him, he had proved himself a completely different person outside of a working relationship. Even spending some of his nights after work learning to make various coffee drinks and sweets with you and Yeonjun; one of which ended with flour all over his designer suit, a very giggly little boy and a gummy smile from the panther.

"Please Joonie? Can you at least just consider it, for me?" he stops sweeping the floor to give you a look when the bell on the door rings as its opened.

"Uncle Yoongi!" Yeonjun jumps up at the sight of Yoongi, having grown closer to him over the weeks with the added help of both being feline type hybrids.

"Uncle?" Namjoon's deep baritone voice stops the panther in his tracks, slowly looking up to take in the tall beefy frame of your twin.

"Ahaha, Joonie this is Min Yoongi, the one I've mentioned that's been coming to hang out at the shop with us on the weekends. Yoongi this is my twin brother, Namjoon."

Your ex-boss's posture is ramrod straight as he bows and introduces himself to the taller man, almost looking ready to bolt. Joon gives a noncommittal hum in response and narrows his gaze at him.

"What makes you think you have the right to come here and have a close relationship to him when you put his mother and my sister through hell?" The color in your face drains as you look at your brother in horror, Yoongi's face mirroring a similar reaction to your own.

"Namjoon!" You gasp out.

"What!?" He whips his attention to you. "Don't tell me his sweet behavior these past few months have let you forget the nights you came home crying from the stress. Or your own child's Birthdays and milestones you missed seeing while you were forced to work overtime or denied time off. Or even having to sit at work for hours on end while your son was in the hospital because this asshole didn't think a family emergency was enough of a reason to leave early!"

He then turns the focus of his ire on Yoongi, tears of frustration streaming down his face. "Do you even have the slightest clue of the misery you have caused this family? Do you even understand how heartbreaking it is to tell a child his own mother can't come home on his birthday? Or how gut-wrenching it is to see the guilt on my sisters face when she was finally able to come home hours after he had gone to bed? She spent five years watching her son grow up through the screen of a phone while she catered to your every whim, and you expect me to be okay with you kindly sliding into our lives like none of that happened?"

The tears are streaming down your face now, never knowing the hurt Namjoon had felt seeing you struggle. You had been so happy to be free and content with a relationship with Yoongi that didn't contain a superior-assistant balance that you had let go of the frustrations you felt while working for him. Seeing now that he had not let go of those negative feelings out of protection of the other half of his soul and his beloved nephew.

"Uncle Joonie don't cry." Your sweet little boys voice comes out muffled as he clings to his uncle in the biggest hug his tiny body can muster.

Namjoon crouches down to wrap his arms around the boy, tucking his face into Yeonjun's shoulder and bringing a large hand to the back of his head. "I'm okay bub, Uncle Joonie is sorry for yelling in front of you. Why don't you go upstairs with Eomma and help her make dinner, hm?"

He looks up at you then, an apology in his eyes that only the bond between twins can decipher, and you nod your head in understanding. Taking the boys hand when he comes to your side you give a look to Yoongi and bow your head in goodbye. Namjoon watches the two of you walk into the back of the shop and heaves a sigh when you disappear from his sight.

Yoongi watches as your brother gets up from his crouched position and levels his gaze back on him. "Let's go for a walk, Min."

Yoongi has never felt more intimidated by a person than your twin brother. Sure, the other two were both tall and by no means scrawny, but the sheer size of Namjoon's biceps makes him feel like the dude could pick him up and toss him like a sack of potatoes.

The hybrid shakes himself out of his thoughts and softly clears his throat before he responds, "Yea, okay."

Your brother takes off his apron and motions for Yoongi to follow him out of the café, turning the 'Open' sign around and locking the doors. He sets off down the sidewalk without looking back to see if the older man was following him. Namjoon stops walking after a while and lets out another sigh as he leans his head facing the sky, then lolling his head back to focus on Yoongi after a second.

"My brothers have been telling me about your new habit of visiting and quite honestly I don't know what to think about it. For years I've watched my sister come home exhausted and force herself to get up and go to work even when she was sick because of you. She's missed out on so many of Yeonjun's firsts and birthdays as a result of how hard you had her working and now all of the sudden, you're a different person?"

Yoongi doesn't know what to do, guilt is washing through him at the man's words, and he struggles to think of what would convince him that he truly cares about you. That he never intended to cause you misery and he never would have done what he did if he had known he was pushing you too hard. You had never let him see you were struggling, he thought you were thriving, he felt pride in the results of your hard work, and it made him think you were capable of that much more.

"I know you have your doubts in me. But I never intended to cause her such pain." He looked into Namjoon's eyes with determination. "I've admired your sister since I hired her, she was always capable and hardworking and after a while I saw a potential in her that others couldn't. I admit at first, I worked her like a hardass because I didn't understand why someone like her was skipping out on the steps of her career in exchange for money. But then I saw something in her that reminded me of myself, and I admired her for her sacrifices, and I worked her harder because I knew she was capable and that she could accomplish something incredible under the pressure."

"And what? You thought you could push her like that without checking in? You thought you could put all of that responsibility on her without the corresponding title? Or pay? Or benefits?" Namjoon fires back, skeptical of the hybrid before him.

The CEO takes a deep breath, knowing that the man was right. "You're right, and I know I'm selfish for it, but I wanted her by my side for as long as I could. I wanted her to continue to be the fortress around me. She kept me levelheaded and calm, and she protected the company silently and I took that for granted. And fuck- You're so right in that I just expected her to take my shit and still stay by my side forever, but I was blind and stupid and Naïve, and yet I can't live without her in my life even after knowing I don't deserve her."

He's looking into your brothers' eyes with the most sincerity he's ever felt in his life, and he prays that if there's a god out there that it will help him just this once. That your brother will believe him, that he will at least let him stay in your life if only as a friend, that he will get a second chance to do this the right way.

"How long have you been in love with her?" The response throws him for a loop, but he won't back away from his feelings anymore. He won't risk losing you again.

"Three years, but I think I loved her long before I realized it." Confessing the truth with confidence lifts a heavy weight off his chest for the first time in a long time.

"Do you still love her knowing what you know now about her? Knowing that she's a mother?" Namjoon levels him with the question like it's the final challenge, and he doesn't hesitate a second in his answer.

"More than ever."

#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #hybrid!au #hybrid!bts #single parent au #Sibling bts #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts angst #hybrid yoongi

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