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sheewolf85 · 2 years

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New Fic: Puppy (Mutt/Reader hurt/comfort)

Summary: You and Mutt have been together for a while now. You love him. You trust him. Your four-year-old daughter absolutely adores him. But when it comes time to leave your daughter with him for a day while you attend an important work meeting, past events make it too hard to leave.

Not only does Mutt understand your hesitation, he also has a surprising solution.

Notes: This is essentially a comfort piece for me. Kinda feel like I don’t even know how to write anymore so I hope this is okay. It hasn’t been beta’d, just re-read by myself and a friend who said it was good. I hope y’all agree. At least a little, lol.

Fun (?) fact: The incident with Iris and the neglectful ex is based on a real situation with my daughter and an ex of mine, though the real situation was far less dramatic and traumatic. Nevertheless, this was lovely to write, if only to live the fantasy in my head of having a Mutt there to offer overzealous retribution.

Tags: existing relationship, reader is female, single parent reader, best dad Mutt, hurt/comfort, but also lots of fluff, fluffy fluff, mild depiction of previous child neglect, nothing too serious, super happy ending

Read on AO3

Or read here!

You smiled at yourself in the mirror and tried to convince yourself it was real. If you could fool yourself, you might have a chance at fooling Mutt.

Who were you kidding? He might be a skeleton monster but the man was a damn bloodhound when it came to your distress. You weren’t about to fool him, but maybe you could get away with not hurting his feelings.

As unacceptable as the prospect of hurting him was, it also felt unavoidable. You’d made these plans weeks in advance, when you’d first been informed of this supposedly “very important meeting” your bosses had said was integral to your possible promotion at the end of the year. Now that the time had come, however, you found that you just…couldn’t go.

You’d only be gone for a day. It wasn’t even an overnight trip. A three-hour drive in the morning to the place, a meeting filled with food and activities, and then the same three-hour drive back in the early evening.

It was longer than you’d ever been away from your daughter before. Your precious little one who acted so much like you even at just four years old.

You had left her in the care of others before. For the most part, it had gone just fine. Paid babysitters were the most responsible, as seemed par for the course. You didn’t have much family to help out, so in a moment of desperation you had once left her with a now-ex-boyfriend.

It hadn’t been all that bad. You knew it really hadn’t. The man hadn’t hurt her, didn’t leave bruises or marks of any kind, hadn’t touched her inappropriately.

But he also hadn’t played with her. Hadn’t read to her or watched a movie with her. He didn’t change her diaper or try to help her with potty training as you’d asked. He hadn’t even fed her the lunch you’d prepared for her. He just plunked her down in her crib and ignored her for the four hours you’d been gone.

You knew, deep down, that Mutt wouldn’t do that. Iris was older now and more capable of expressing her needs, but more than that, Mutt wasn’t that type of person.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to still your frantically beating heart when there was a knock at the door. Mutt used his key to get in, and all of a sudden there was an eruption of happy screams.

“Puppy!” Iris screamed, her tiny footsteps pounding as she ran for him. You imagined him leaning down to scoop her up the moment she reached him.

He growled playfully as he made loud ‘nom nom nom’s, pretending to eat her belly like always.

“how’s my li’l flower?” he asked, his rough voice wafting gently through the house.

Iris launched into telling Mutt all about her latest adventures with her playmates at daycare and how Austin had been sick but she was so proud of herself for washing her hands just like he’d taught her and so she didn’t get sick.

You figured you couldn’t hide from this forever. You sucked in another deep breath and let it out slowly before finally leaving your bedroom.

Mutt had Iris on his hip and walked around with her, casually picking up stray clutter as he dutifully nodded and hummed with her, gasping theatrically as appropriate when she dropped a bombshell about how Tracy liked Justin but Justin liked Rory.

They turned when you giggled, Mutt’s expression going from amused to flat-out lovestruck. You would never get used to how his beautiful purple eye lights flashed briefly into hearts every time he saw you.

He didn’t set Iris down, instead carried her over for a group hug. “how’s my darlin’?” he asked softly.

You leaned up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I’m okay. Dinner is just about ready; are you hungry?”

Mutt chucked. “when ain’t i?”

You just smiled at him and led the way to the kitchen. The plan was that he’d stay the night tonight and see you off in the morning, and you weren’t excited about having this conversation with him. You had already decided you’d wait until Iris went to bed; she didn’t need to see her favorite person possibly get upset. She’d witnessed too many adult arguments already in her short life.

Dinner was a routine affair with Iris chowing down on her burrito and trying to keep talking at the same time. If one let her, she’d fill an entire day with chatter. You gently admonished her for talking with her mouth full.

Mutt promptly opened his mouth mid-chew. “‘s’right, darlin’. ain’t mannerly.”

“Mutt!” You scowled at him, his expression only barely contrite before he couldn’t help himself and chuckled.

Iris, of course, thought the whole interaction was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed and laughed like the tiny psychopath she was.

Once dinner was over, Mutt helped you clean up and put all the leftovers away as Iris washed up. Then the three of you went to the living room to watch a movie before bedtime.

You really tried to focus on Little Bear 3, but your mind seemed more adamant that you stress over how to break the news to Mutt. You could just tell him that the trip had been canceled, but it felt so wrong to lie to him. While you couldn’t say that you’d never once lied to him in all the months you’d been together, you could say with confidence that you’d never lied about anything big. You’d be damned if you would start now.

Mutt’s arm around you hugged gently, pulling you more securely into his side as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“you okay, darlin’?” he asked in a soft whisper.

You nodded and looked over to kiss him. He smiled and nuzzled your forehead before pulling you into his chest. You rested against him, listening intently to the soft sound of his soul pulsing in his ribcage, and tried to drown out everything else.

You sincerely hoped he would understand, but your past experiences told you tonight may just be the last night you’d get to snuggle with him like this, at least for a while. Depending on how hard he took the news, he might just decide he’d rather focus his attention somewhere he knew he was trusted.

You so wished you could say that the problem wasn’t that you didn’t trust him.

After the movie was over, Iris was already starting to rub her eyes. You gave Mutt a kiss and went to bathe her and change her into pajamas. She wanted Mutt to read to her, so you gave him the reins and went to set out her clothes for the morning.

Mutt always knew how to read the books the best, Iris said. He wasn’t afraid to get creative with his voices and read off-script if he thought he wasn’t engaging his audience enough.

Tonight, however, Iris was sound asleep before he’d even reached the middle of the book.

He chuckled softly and set the book down on her little side table before standing up next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“out like a light, she is,” he whispered.

You nodded, and together you left her room, shutting the door only most of the way in case she woke with nightmares.

The two of you walked to your room, and as soon as the door shut you had expected him to start kissing you or trying to undress you. He didn’t call himself a hound for no reason. Instead, you were almost surprised as he sat on the side of the bed, holding your hands gently, and looked up at you with a worried expression.

In this position, you were the taller one by a few inches, but you felt so small as his pale purple eye lights raked over your face.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he asked, so gently. “i c’n tell somethin’s up, so please don’ say it’s nothin’. i wanna help.”

Your eyes welled up instantly, all the emotion you’d been trying so hard to hide suddenly wrenched to the forefront. Mutt whined and stood up to pull you into a gentle hug, his hands petting your hair down your back.

“i’s okay, darlin’,” he whispered, “let it out, ‘m here for ya.”

You clung to him as though just loving him was enough. Why couldn’t you trust him, too? You knew--you knew --he’d never do anything to hurt Iris. He loved her so much, so why couldn’t you trust him with her for a few hours?

You’d tried, so hard. But all you could see was your precious baby at a year and a half old when you’d walked into her room, her face so red and pained from crying, soiled and hungry.

You cried harder because you knew Mutt would never let that happen. He’d die first, or kill whoever stood in his way of taking care of his sweetest little flower.

Logic stood no chance in this fight, and you’d already given up.

“I’m so sorry, Mutt,” you tried to say, voice hitching with sobs.

He shushed you, holding you a little tighter.

You shook your head, pulling back just a little. “No, I mean it. I’m sorry, because I can’t go on this trip tomorrow.” You felt nauseous at your confession.

Mutt’s brow furrowed. “yer sorry ‘cause it got canceled?”

Again you shook your head. Sniffling, you tried your best to answer him and not start crying again. “No. It wasn’t canceled. I just…” You hesitated, staring at his shirt instead of his face. “I can’t leave her,” you finally whispered.

Instead of the anger or pained confusion you expected, possibly an accusation of some sort, Mutt merely tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. His lilac eye lights shimmered, his expression showing nothing more than love and support.

“she’s yer baby girl,” he said softly. “‘course i’s gonna be hard. y’know i’ll keep her safe an’ happy while yer gone.”

You nodded. “Logically, yes, I do know that. But I can’t…Mutt, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You pulled away from him to grab the tissue box on your headboard and sat down hard on the mattress. “I’m a horrible person. I trust you, I do, but there’s something about this that I just can’t get over.”

Now he would be angry, you thought; now that he knew it wasn’t just a normal case of the jitters.

Instead, he sat beside you and took your hand. “did i do somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

You looked at him, your chin wobbling as you shook your head. “No, not you.”

His head cocked to the side. “not me?”

You hadn’t planned on telling him what your ex had done, but you supposed it would only be fair to him to hear why you were struggling so hard with this. So you sucked in a deep breath and you told him every detail from that experience.

Iris hadn’t been able to be away from you for more than five minutes after that. Her doctor had said it was simply separation anxiety, but you knew better. She’d been traumatized, neglected, left sitting in her own waste until her skin was raw and it had taken a week for the rash to clear up.

By the time you stopped talking, Mutt’s fingers were shaking around yours. His hold was still gentle, but you knew without even looking at his face how furious he was. You were almost afraid to say the next sentence, afraid that he might not believe you.

“I know you’d never—” You couldn’t finish, not when he sucked in a sudden, sharp breath.

Keeping your eyes on the floor, you wiped your face with your tissue and waited for him to calm down enough to tell you exactly what he thought of your story, accuse you of thinking he’d put your daughter through similar things, that he wasn’t capable of being a responsible adult.

Once again, he surprised you.

It took nearly five minutes for him to calm down enough to speak. He cleared his throat and very gently brought your hand to his lap to fully enclose it with his other one.

“don’t s’pose this guy lives ‘round ‘ere anymore?” he asked, his voice a rough rumble.

You looked at him to see his eye lights blazing like you’d never seen before. His expression was terrifying, dark and murderous, he looked every bit the deadly threat he’d once tried to convince you he was.

But instead of scaring you, it was comforting in a way you thought might be a tad unhealthy. He was willing to track down your ex boyfriend and deliver justice for what he’d put your daughter through.

As tempting as the idea was, you somehow knew Mutt’s brand of justice would likely be overkill. Probably literally. Could you really sentence a man to death for a mistake he’d made over two and a half years ago?

“I don’t know,” you finally said. Mutt raised a brow, and you smirked. “I really don’t,” you said again, “I haven’t talked to him in quite some time.”

Mutt nodded, accepting your answer. You hadn’t lied; you really didn’t know where your ex lived and you hadn’t had any kind of contact with him since you’d broken up shortly after the incident in question.

He cleared his throat again before lifting your hand to kiss the back of it. “thank you for tellin’ me,” he said softly. “i know how much it c’n hurt ta be betrayed by someone ya though’ ya could trust.”

You winced, but before you could so much as inhale to apologize, Mutt was on his knees in front of you.

“no, sweetheart, not you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and settling his skull in your lap. “not you. underground, ‘specially raisin’ black. backstabbin’ was a way’a life.”

He so rarely talked about life underground, and you would never push him to relive those memories. Instead of asking him to tell you, you simply pet his skull and attempted to hug his shoulders.

“I’m still sorry, though,” you finally said.

He shook his head, the top of his skull rubbing just under your breasts. “ain’t no reason t’apologize. i ain’t gonna push ya ta worry like that jus’ ‘cause i wanna be a good boyfriend.” He sighed and sat back on his heels, his hands moving to hold your hips as he looked up at you. He had calmed considerably, and now his eye lights watched you with love and concern. “but ya should still go to tha’ meetin’.”

Your brow furrowed as something twisted in your chest. “I can’t, Mutt, I--”

He lifted a hand to press two fingers to your lips. “i know, ya can’ leave her. so don’. we c’n come with an’ while yer doin’ yer thing, i c’n take ‘er to a park i know out tha’ way. she c’n feed some ducks and i’ll keep the geese away from ‘er, ‘n’ we might even see some deer.”

Oh.

It was such a simple solution! You’d only be away from her for a few hours at most. The park being in a public place somehow made it easier; Mutt would have to keep an eye on her.

You kissed his fingertips. “Okay.”

His smile was crooked but so handsome. He moved his hand to cup your cheek. “yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thank you for understanding.”

He stood up slowly, moving like a predator as he leaned in to kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back as he pushed you back on the bed.

Some time later, as you laid against Mutt’s bare chest and his hands ran through your hair, he hugged you gently and kissed the top of your head.

“love you,” he whispered.

You smiled and kissed his sternum. “I love you, too.”

“an’ i love iris, too. anyone’d have ta be fuckin’ crazy not ta.” He shifted to look down at you. “we ain’t talked about this yet, but i wanna be what ya need. what she needs. i knew what i w’s gettin’ inta when i asked ya out, an’ i ain’t regretted it once. i love ya both so much, darlin’.”

You stared up at him, too afraid to hope. “You...you want to be her dad?” Sure, the two of you had been dating for several months now, but there was a big difference between wanting to date someone with a kid and wanting to commit to a parental role.

“if yer okay with it, ‘n’ if she’ll have me, then yeah, i do.”

You could only imagine how excited Iris would be when she heard. But as you always had, you’d make sure she was included in this decision. You would never put more responsibility on her than necessary, but her opinions were very important to you.

“We can talk to her after my meeting tomorrow,” you said, reaching up to cup his cheekbone. “Don’t be too surprised if she tackles you in excitement.”

He chuckled. “i look forward to it.”

You settled back down on his chest and sighed peacefully as he pulled the blankets up around the both of you. You were exhausted, and tomorrow was going to be a very big day.

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

The next day, after one of the longest meetings you’d been to and a half-decent lunch, you were finally freed to be with your little family again.

Mutt and Iris were waiting for you in the parking lot, your daughter’s curls bouncing as she jumped through a makeshift hopscotch Mutt had to have fashioned out of sticks and leaves. She looked up as you approached and smiled hugely.

“Mama! Mama, guess what?” If her tone wasn’t a dead giveaway that she was overly excited about something, her tiny hands clenched in fists at her chest would have been.

“What is it?” you asked, honestly curious. You knew Mutt wouldn’t have talked to her without you, so it had to be something else.

If she smiled any harder, her tiny face would break apart. “We saw ducks! And deer!! And, and…” she turned to look at Mutt, her face adorably scrunched. “...what were they?”

He smiled down at her indulgently. “Goslings.”

Her giant smile was right back in place. “Goslings!” she almost screamed at you. “Did you know that’s a baby goose?”

You nodded as you picked her up. “I did know that. That all sounds so fun! Did you feed the ducks?”

She nodded frantically and began telling you all about her trip to the park with one of her very favorite people in the world. She’d had a fun picnic with sandwiches and chisps, and she thought throwing peas and corn for the ducks was silly but Mutt told her it was better for them than bread and wasn’t that weird?

You let her chat about the trip and all the things she’d seen and done as the three of you got back in the car and made your way back home. She fell asleep less than a third of the way there, and you smiled over at Mutt as he drove.

“you c’n nap too if ya wanna,” he said softly. “be ‘bout two hours ‘fore we get home.”

You were pretty tired. You nodded and sucked in a huge yawn before settling back in your seat.

You woke when Mutt parked and turned the car off. Iris was still fast asleep, and you watched with bleary satisfaction as he got her out of her carseat without disturbing her. He was the only one who could do that; anyone else would get an earful of cranky whining and potential screaming. You followed him into the house and watched as he gently laid her on the couch.

“we prob’ly don’ wanna let ‘er sleep too long, do we?” he asked quietly. “else she won’ sleep tonight.”

You nodded. “Yeah, we should wake her up.” You sat next to her and ran your hand gently through her hair. “Iris, honey, we’re home,” you called softly.

She woke up slowly and squirmed, then stretched out and yawned hugely. “But I’m still tired,” she whined.

Mutt snickered. “‘course ya are, little flower, but it ain’t bedtime yet. still gotta do dinner ‘n’ all that shhh--” he trailed off and glanced at you.

Iris’ eyes went huge. “You were gonna swear!” she accused loudly.

Mutt huffed with pretend indignation. “was not! i ain’t ever sworn in my whole damn life.”

Iris giggled, now fully awake. “Liar! You just did!”

You at least appreciated him keeping the curses to a minimum around Iris. Come to think of it, you had never even had to ask him to do that. He just adjusted the way he spoke when she was around.

“There’s a little while before dinner, but there is something that Mutt and I wanted to talk to you about,” you said, rubbing Iris’s back. You didn’t have a single clue how to start this conversation, so you figured you might as well leap right on in.

She sat up and looked at you curiously. “What is it?”

You smiled at Mutt and reached out to take his hand as he settled himself cross-legged on the floor in front of Iris. He grinned back and squeezed your fingers.

“see, ‘m a real big fan’a you ‘n’ yer mom,” Mutt said with a crooked smile. “ya know i love ya; the two’a ya’re like family. but, i kinda wanna take the ‘like’ outta there. i want ya ta be my family f’real. if it’s okay with you, iris, i’d really like ta call ya my daughter.”

You watched as Iris’s eyes filled with tears. She climbed down off the couch and hugged him tightly, still silent as she shoved her tiny face into his neck. He held her gently and looked up at you with raw concern on his features. You gave him a soft smile; this meant good things but you didn’t want to interrupt her processing to explain it just yet.

Iris finally sniffled and pulled back, sitting on Mutt’s lap and looking up at him with the most adoring expression.

“Do I have to call you ‘daddy’?” she finally asked.

The question confused you, and you could see the moment Mutt’s heart broke. You wanted to reassure him, but you honestly didn’t know what Iris was asking. Did she really not want this as much as you thought she would?

Mutt swallowed and shook his head. “no, ‘course not, sweetheart,” he said softly. “y’ain’t gotta do nothin’ yer uncomfy with.”

Oh, you wished you could comfort him right now, but you had no clue what to even think let alone how to act.

Iris smiled then, huge and happy. “So you can be my daddy but I can still call you ‘Puppy’?” she asked, all but bouncing in his lap.

All the tension in your body eased at the same time as Mutt’s smile reappeared. He hugged Iris tightly.

“you c’n call me whatever the fuck ya wanna call me,” he said roughly.

Iris giggled and hugged him tighter. “You owe Mama a dollar for the swear jar.”

You couldn’t help but slip off the couch and sink to your knees beside the two and pull them both into a hug. “This time only, I’ll forgive the slip-up,” you said with happy tears in your eyes.

Mutt laughed, his unrestrained joy such a rare delight, and pulled an arm away from Iris only to wind it around your back and pull you both down to lay back on the floor with him. He sniffled and kissed Iris’s forehead before turning to kiss yours.

“i can’ promise ‘m gonna be the best dad out there,” he said solemnly, “but i’m gonna try.”

Iris squirmed to get out of his hug and sat up on his chest. “Mama says nobody’s perfect,” she said seriously, holding out a finger like she was dispensing the wisest wisdom she possessed. “And it’s true ‘cause even I make mistakes sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but snicker a little, turning your head to bury your face in Mutt’s sweater so you didn’t interrupt your daughter’s insightful speech. You could feel Mutt’s shoulders shaking with his silent laughter as well.

You both waited for her to continue, but apparently that was all she had to say. She laid back down on Mutt and patted your cheek.

“Does this mean we’re a real family now?” she asked, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled. “Yes, it does.”

She smiled back. “Good.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be figured out. Was Mutt going to move in with you? He still technically lived with his brother even though he spent most of his time with you. You’d need to figure out if this new change meant anything different for your relationship with him. Would he want to get married someday? It was unlikely you’d want to have more children, but maybe it was something he wanted.

So many thoughts that would eventually need to be talked about. But for now, you snuggled with your little family on the living room floor and talked about what should be done for dinner. It was enough. There was time for the rest later.

#my writing #undertale fanfiction #swapfell Papyrus #Mutt #Reader #single parent reader #hurt/comfort #but also lots of fluff

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dearest-painter · 2 years

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Y/N and their two year old son without his dad in his life!!

Wholesome single gender neutral parent Y/N! Yes Y/N is based off of my mom,the baby is named Kai.

CW:Mama is used gender neutral in this

Waking up you see your son Kai holding his blanket while peaking around the wall. Seeing that his mama is awake he started to smile and giggle. “Hiya baby,come to mama” Kai ran while laughing to his mama,picking him up you kissed his face peppering all over his face causing him to laugh more. “My baby” smiling yourself you held Kai close as you made your way to the kitchen as he nibbled on your shirts collar. Making his food you placed him in his high chair. Feeding him and yourself at the same time was difficult but Kai was an odd baby as your Mom explained. He didn’t cry often,he was patient,and he didn’t get fussy but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cry and get fussy he does!

Picking him up you changed his clothes then put him in his play area turning on Doc mcStuffins. Doing your online work you made sure Kai was okay every so often you smiled. Your content with it being just you and Kai without that dead beat of your ex.

#I’m having baby fever #pure fucking fluff #gn reader #SINGLE PARENT READER #single parent reader #gender neutral reader #reader is a single parent #Y/N has a baby

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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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naffeclipse · 6 months

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The baby brain rot is kicking in with Cardinal Instinct and that one ask with the mama humpback YN now aaaa just imaging Ribbon seal siren YN or Selkie YN coming back to their little baby only to come out the breathing hole and see a certain Orca who is design to kill their young with their little white puffball baby

Shaking your hand so hard right now about the baby brain rot!!

Crying over a baby ribbon seal!!! Look at this little guy!!!

Now picture a baby mer with that soft and fuzzy, silver and black tail!

Reactions would differ between Ribbon Seal!Y/N and Selkie!Y/N, as much as panic and fear could differ with finding an orca siren holding your baby.

Ribbon Seal Y/N would freeze, staring at this siren orca holding your infant mer so delicately in his claws, even supporting his little head and cooing softly. You'd demand your baby back in a thick, terrified voice. He'd ease the baby into your arms and you'd hug your child close, amazed that, somehow, he hasn't eaten you or your young.

But he doesn't let you go. He looms over you and your baby and makes promises: he will take care of your little family, and you'll see how much better it is to have a protector, to have him, with you.

As for Selkie!Y/N, you know that your pup is safe all swaddle in her new seal coat, the color innocently white and soft, but you're still so nervous to leave her for even a few moments. Still, you have to eat, and so does your baby. You pull on your seal fur, dive into the water, and quickly return with some fish in your animal mouth but there's something already by the ice shelf, and all other signs of life have vanished.

A towering orca siren playfully sings to your baby right where you left her. He's fawning over the white fluffball. You cry out, shedding your coat just to reach out across the ice to snatch your baby out of reach from the siren, but the siren grabs you. He's all teeth. Your pup squeaks and he looks at her with a grin that puts you on edge, but he says how beautiful you both are. Though he pulls you closer, and you hug your pup tighter, you wonder how you can get him to loosen his hold.

#the fluffball babies ahhhhh #selkie!reader #ribbon seal!reader #orca!eclipse #eclipse seeing a tiny white puffy baby and a single parent and immediately falling in love (obsession)#eclipse is just “if i approach the baby first it will turn out great” and doesn't think twice about it #*panicking seals*

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sweet-evie · 6 months

Text

Strolling in Starlight

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt

Content: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo, Sentimental!Gojo, Mentions of Suguru and Satoru’s deceased lover, Pining (all Satoru), Satsuki doesn’t understand a thing her dad is saying.

A/N: Not Gojo showing off his powers to a baby as if they can understand.

Never Grow Up Pt 3

December 2012

“‘Tsukiiii…” Satoru groaned, stretching out the last syllable in her name as he pushed her door open. “I thought we were past this.”

Grumbling, he effortlessly picked his way through the mess of building blocks and plushies on the floor that he neglected to put away before her bedtime. (Infinity on auto was a perk he never wanted to be without; saved him emergency trips to the hospital because he was sure he’d stepped on legos hundreds of times by now).

Satoru propped his elbows on the edge of Satsuki’s bassinet and peered down at her scrunched up, slightly red face from crying. This was the fourth time this week — consecutive days of the house being shaken up at ungodly hours of the morning because of a screaming baby and her consequently turbulent cursed energy.

Shoko warned him about this… She told him some babies get into a phase at 7 months where they don’t appreciate being apart from their caretakers and that it’s completely normal, but it sure is a bitch to deal with. Usually, it wasn’t a problem, because Satoru rarely slept anyways, and he was — more often than not — awake and doing things. His concern was Megumi and Tsumiki. Those kids needed their sleep… And Satsuki had a pair of lungs on her. Wonder where she got those from.

“Princess, I’m all for you crying and calling for me, but we can’t keep waking up Tsumiki and Megumi like this. They have school tomorrow… I think.”

Satsuki rolled over to lie on her stomach. She was still crying, a little quieter now that her favorite person had come into the room to appease her.

“C’mere.”

He reached in and lifted her out of her bassinet, and held her at arms’ length. She had that ridiculously adorable dumbfounded look on her face that most babies seemed to have after they stopped crying — looking around cluelessly as if they didn’t cause disturbances just moments before. If he had neighbors and they lived in a smaller apartment, he was sure he would have gotten noise complaints by now.

Satoru brought his daughter closer and did the routine check he’d always done every time she woke up in the middle of the night since he brought her home from the hospital 7 months ago. Her diapers didn’t require changing, and she wasn’t hungry, so…

“Did you really just want to be close to me?” He teased her, tickling her tummy a little.

She squealed her answer and as she gave him her gummy smile, he narrowed his eyes.

“Are your teeth coming in?” He had the inappropriate urge to poke his finger in and feel around her gums, because those little white buds were definitely not there before. “Shoko told me you might be a late teether. You were supposed to get these 3 months ago.”

In hindsight, that probably explained all the drooling, the general fussiness, her awful habit of attempting to eat her fingers until someone brought over a pacifier, and her demonic urge to gum all her plushies to death. His clothes didn’t escape her either.

“I’m getting you a teething ring. I really should’ve, don’t know how I missed that.”

Satoru outstretched his hand and used Blue to draw one of Satsuki’s toys over to him. The movement caught the baby’s attention, and she squealed in delight as she followed the object’s path. How did it look to her curious eyes, a plushie flying across the room to land in her father’s palm? But it seemed she couldn’t care less after Satoru handed it to her. She grabbed Wanyamon and pulled on its ears. Her babbling and her attempt at motor boating (something she picked up from Tsumiki and Satoru) showered her father in drool.

Satoru snickered and watched as Satsuki’s face lit up with excitement. It must be another sight to see — liquid suspended in midair, drool kept at bay by Infinity.

“Okay, Spitter, now what?” Shaking his head, he pushed the small plushy back into her arms when it almost fell to the floor from her lax grip.

Satsuki crumpled the cloth in her little fists and put one of the ears into her mouth. Snickering, he kissed the top of her head and bounced her a little in his arms. “You don’t look sleepy, but I need you to go back to bed because it’s so late, and your mom will hate me if you don’t get the sleep that you’re supposed to.”

She stared up at him with big doe amber eyes that reminded him too much of her late mother, just as an idea popped into his head.

“Hey ‘Tsuki? Want to go see the stars up close?”

=OoOoO=

Beautiful star-studded Tokyo skies were rare to see, but it was a privilege enjoyed by the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Suspended mid-air, 6,000 feet above the ground, Satoru strolled across empty air, stepping on manipulated space underneath his feet, walking through clouds with each step, carrying a deeply fascinated baby in his arms.

Not for the first time, he himself appreciated the blanket of stars above them. He was holding Satsuki up against his chest and shoulders and she leaned back as far as she could, turning her fair-haired head this way and that, little hands tugging mercilessly on his hair all the while.

Her excitement came in the form of babbles and squeals that sometimes sounded like they were supposed to be questions, and he nodded along.

“Bet you didn’t think your dad could fly huh?” Satoru smirked, gently prying her fingers away from the hair hanging in front of his face. She’d poked his eye one too many times for his liking by now. “Well, it’s not flying… More like… I’m manipulating the space around me so I can do things like this.”

A finely controlled red orb launched itself from the tips of his fingers. The ball of energy careened across the sky and dissipated after it disturbed a group of cumulus clouds.

Satsuki was murmuring things softly in a language that only babies could understand. She twisted restlessly in his arms and Satoru had to re-secure his hold on her lest she fall.

“What are you so interested in back there?” Satoru teased, turning around to stare at empty air behind him. “Red is not enough for you?”

“Da-da Da-da~ Dada.” She sang and giggled and swung her tiny onesie-clad legs.

As the wind continued tousling his hair, he readjusted the beanie on Satsuki’s head, so it covered her ears a little more. For some reason, she reminded him of one of those Kewpie baby commercials from his childhood — all wide-eyed curious stares and rosy cheeks.

“As I was saying before you interrupted me—” He booped the tip of her nose and she scrunched her face at him. “If you happen to have Limitless too, you could do cool stuff like what daddy did and show off to all of your friends. It’s going to take a lot more effort to master Limitless, or at least, use it competently without Six Eyes, but I know you can do it. You have me, after all. I’m the best teacher you’ll ever have.”

“Baboo!”

“Ow!”

Satsuki squealed and closed her fist around Satoru’s nose, giggling and smiling her gummy smile as her father made a face. He pried her hand off again, and mimed eating her fingers — making the silly cookie monster noises that he knew she recognized from Sesame Street. (He had his current students to thank for that). Her answering shriek could have woken Megumi and Tsumiki had they been in the house, and Satoru laughed along with her.

He held her at arm’s length as she continued to squeal and drool all over the front of her onesie. He spun around slowly twice, just to see how his baby would react, and she rewarded his efforts with a string of baby talk.

“Why are you so energetic at like two in the morning?” He wondered out loud, bringing her close again.

She wriggled in his hold and subconsciously wrapped her short and chubby arms around his neck.

“You don’t even know what stargazing is yet, do you?” He readjusted his hold on her again and patted her back slowly to the rhythm of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ playing in his head. “It’s when people go outside to stare up at the night sky and try to find constellations. To be honest, it’s pretty lame when you live in the city because hardly any stars would be visible through all the light pollution. This is way better, don’t you think so?”

Satoru doubted the baby was paying attention to him as she stared up at the endless expanse of tiny lights above them — babbling and doing her own commentary in a language only she understood.

“Mhm, those are stars, Princess. We still can’t touch them from here, but we can see a lot more of them.”

They whiled away in the sky for a short time like that; father and daughter strolling together under a dark canvas dotted with billions of balls of gas, burning hundreds of miles away. He pointed out made-up constellations to her, naming them after people in his life — talking about how those clusters of stars looked like Megumi when he was reading a book, or how that particular line of stars reminded him of Tsumiki when she played in the swings.

It was weird, but Satsuki didn’t think so…

The wind continued to whip at his hair and his clothes when he chose a spot in the sky to stop. Carefully, he sat on empty space — next to a pocket of fluffy white clouds, stretched his legs, and crossed them at the ankles so he could lay Satsuki lengthwise on his lap.

Satsuki kicked her legs out and giggled at him as he held her tiny fists in both of his hands; playing a makeshift game of close-open-close with her short arms, while humming another nursery rhyme he was sure he’d learned when he was a child himself.

“Hey, guess what?” Satoru leaned closer a little and whispered conspiratorially after the second nursery song ended. “Your great grandma told me once that people who are gone turn into stars.”

Satsuki replied with a bunch of incomprehensible baby talk. She twisted around again to lay on her stomach, and Satoru was quick to pick her up and guide her into a sitting position on his knee instead, with his arms supporting her and holding her close for safety.

“Pu-pee.” She squealed and giggled again, curious hands reaching up to grab and tug at her beanie. “Da-da, da-da~ Da-daaaaa~”

Smiling at her unquenchable eagerness and energy, he slowly rocked her back and forth and littered quick kisses along the side of her face while he stared up at the canopy of stars.

“Do you think Mommy’s up there?” Satoru shook his head and chuckled. “I bet Mommy would kick my ass because this is actually pretty dangerous for you, you know. One slip-up and it’s ‘down will come baby, cradle and all.’ Should’ve brought the carrier. But eh… It’s fine.” He kissed the top of her beanie. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I’m the safest place you’ll ever be. Your dad’s the strongest after all.”

They listened to the wind as it sung a song of its own, and perhaps if he deluded himself enough, he would be convinced it was his Love coming to check on them momentarily. Yes, she would probably chide him for being careless and for bringing his daughter thousands of feet up into the air, but if she were here, he would have brought her with them too.

It had the makings of a perfect family date, didn’t it?

Just him, her, and their baby girl strolling under starlight — far away from the stresses of normal life and jujutsu sorcery.

“I miss your mom.”

Had Satsuki been old enough to understand, perhaps she would have heard how sadness stained her father’s usually cheery disposition… Perhaps she would have seen the way the light in his eyes dulled ever so slightly at the memory of the Love he had lost.

And yet, a fond and bittersweet smile still made its way to his lips at every memory that drifted to the surface. “I did this with her once. Took her up to Tokyo Skytree. She kept smacking me the first time I did it because I startled her. My bad…” He snickered and perked up suddenly when he remembered, “Oh! My teleportation doesn’t disorient you, does it?”

“Da-da da-da… Ba-boo~ Ba-bee!”

“Taking that as a ‘no.’” He sighed. “I miss my best friend too. His name’s Suguru. You would have liked him if he were still around. Suguru can absorb and manipulate curses, and he really had this cool rainbow dragon curse that he would bring out sometimes. Auntie Shoko, me, and him used to fly above Tokyo riding on that thing.”

And what a headache they gave Yaga too… Wandering outside of campus after class hours was generally frowned upon and heavily discouraged, but that hadn’t stopped the three of them from leaving their dorms in the dead of night anyway. He treasured the memory of those balmy nights full of late convenience store snack runs. They would hang out in parks after that, or sneak into izakayas. (He and Suguru were certainly tall enough to pass, and no one said ‘no’ to Shoko). Sometimes, they deliberately returned to campus when the sun was high just to see what would happen if they broke school regulations.

“There was also the stingray, but that one’s smaller and only fits one person.”

Satoru mumbled to himself, lost in the memory of that time when he dared to race Suguru. Which was faster? The stingray vs the rainbow dragon. Shoko thought they were ridiculous, but she played referee for them anyway — all while she rode atop another one of Suguru’s airborne curses, casually smoking her cigarette as she watched the boys cackle and try to playfully sabotage each other to get the upper hand.

A moment of silence followed, punctuated by the howl of the wind and Satsuki’s quieter babbling.

“Princess, do you even know that you’re born into a sorcerer family? Maybe you don’t understand yet, but I’ve seen you interacting with Megumi’s dogs.”

Megumi introduced them to her at Satoru’s suggestion, just to see if Satsuki would react, and she did. She patted their fur and crawled towards them. Satoru would go so far as to say she would have chased them if she had been capable of walking… Perhaps soon the house would come alive with the sounds of little feet pattering on the floor, pursuing shadow pups. Megumi didn’t react to it much, but Satoru caught him summoning the dogs with Satsuki around. He would read to her while she poked and prodded at the Divine Dogs.

Too bad Tsumiki can’t see the canines though…

Cheeks puffed out in disappointment, Satoru muttered, “It sucks that Tsumiki can’t see them the way you and Megumi can. She would have loved those dogs.”

“Mi-mi boo… Da-da da-da!”

He smiled and poked his daughter’s cheek. “Tsumiki is just like your mommy, you see. She’s a non-sorcerer, and if things go well, she can live a normal and happy life. I want that for you too, ‘Tsuki. I’d give it to you. To be honest though, I wanted to wait to have you… Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but Mommy and I weren’t supposed to make you yet.”

His Love’s panicked face after she’d confirmed her suspicions still felt so fresh. He could still see her in his mind’s eye — could still see the droop in her shoulders when she approached him and confessed, the pregnancy test held between her trembling hands.

“We wanted to get married after I’ve reformed the jujutsu world, and then we’d have you. But you came early! And that’s completely fine too.” He smiled fondly at Satsuki’s innocent face, blinking up at him. “At least now, you get to see me do it, and by the time you’re all set to go to Jujutsu Tech, it will be different, and so much better.”

Her smile slowly began to turn upside down and her familiar cry for attention pierced the air not long after. If she wasn’t in need of a diaper change or hungry, that only meant one other thing. Someone was getting cranky and that same someone was demanding her beauty sleep. Finally.

Satoru tucked her into the crook of his neck again and patted her back gently, readjusting his hold at the same time so she could snuggle more comfortably if she needed it.

“What do you say we make this a tradition? Just you and me. Like that idea?”

But his voice had already lulled her to sleep, and Satoru smiled.

“Sleep tight, sweet girl. I have you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #dad!gojo #girl dad gojo #fushigojo #single parent gojo #mentions of #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #satoru gojo x oc #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #wbad fanfiction

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geniousbh · 16 days

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⸻ ❝ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒑 ❞

enzo vogrincic ₓ f.reader

wc.: 4,5k

prompt: baseado nesse excerto (parte do enzinho apenas) e na música "do i wanna know?" do artic monkeys (recomendo escutar pra leitura)

obs.: sou suspeita pra falar sobre como isso saiu pq eu gostei muito! fazendo uma quebra nas putarias duvidosas que eu ando compartilhando aqui nesse blog - e que eu não me arrependo, no entanto!! 🥴 espero que gostem, bebês!!! já somos quase 200 bilhões de geniousbhers e eu estou muitoo mtmtmtmt feliz com como as coisas tem ido <3 nossa girlies party é a melhor! desculpem os errinhos e boa leitura 💗

obs.²: sim, eu coloquei o esteban pra fazer cameo de novo, porque me afetou psicologicamente as obras recentes dele sendo um dilf ceo, peço que entendam meu momento delicado!!

tw.: smut, um palavrãozinho de nada aqui e acolá, praise kink, worship (fortíssimo), pet names, nipple play, sexo oral (f), sexo vaginal, sexo desprotegido (heróis usam capa fml), creampie, e se tiver algo mais vocês me avisem mwah. MDNI

— tem certeza? quer dizer, não é da minha conta com quem você se relaciona, mas... — o loiro falou baixo, apesar de estarem ambos sozinhos próximos à máquina de café no quiosque do andar.

— não sei... honestamente, sinto que é errado, mas, o que é que eu tenho a perder? — enzo respondeu antes de bebericar.

tinha aproveitado para conversar com o colega, recentemente promovido, nos minutos de pausa que tinham. ambos ocupavam cargos de diretoria, mas agora, esteban estava mais próximo do chefe, como braço direito e com parte nas ações da empresa, e o vogrincic se perguntava como e o "porquê" ao notar a filha do dono caminhando até eles com uma pastinha rosa em mãos; sempre muito pomposa desfilando pelos corredores acinzentados do prédio.

encarou o amigo confidente com o canto dos olhos e riu soprado quando a voz fina estava perto o suficiente para soltar um "meu pai pediu que você me ajudasse" toda calma, mas que nitidamente carregava uma urgência escondida. e lá ia o kukuriczka, fechando a expressão e fingindo que não gostava nada da atenção completamente inapropriada que a filhinha do cabeça branca oferecia a ele. isso, se já não tivesse oferecido outras coisas mais.

o uruguaio não poderia ser mais hipócrita naquele sentido, se deixando levar por um sentimento incoerente e repudiante que ele tinha pela babá de sua pequena. o que ele podia fazer, no entanto? não era alguém de grandes ambições, trabalhava o suficiente na semana para descansar no final desta e dar boas condições para sua família - a filha e os pais -, gostava de tranquilidade e tinha hobbies que não fugiam da normalidade, evitava se engraçar com o restante do pessoal do escritório e tinha poucos amigos, mas ainda era homem.

então chegar em casa e te flagrar ninando maria nos braços, de frente à sacada, afagando as costas da criança num carinho que era tão maternal que parecia impossível de se aflorar numa garota jovem como você, ou ainda te pegar adormecida no sofá, em meio as almofadas e suas apostilas de faculdade, depois de já ter colocado a bebê no quartinho num dia que ele precisava de você até mais tarde, eram coisas que mexiam com algo adormecido nele.

desde o momento que tinha perdido a esposa para um acidente de carro, enzo podia contar em uma mão quantas vezes tinha se interessado por outra mulher - e o número era ainda menor das que ele tinha chego nas vias de fato -, e não era como se ele tivesse problemas ou que fosse um trauma latente ter ficado viúvo aos vinte e oito anos de idade, mas por natureza ele gostava de coisas mais calmas, mais reservadas, que não gerassem burburinho, e ter uma filha e uma história tão impactante, por si só, era fofoca.

não com você. a garota que o amigo romero havia apresentado e que tinha disponibilidade para ajudar na manhã e de tarde. na entrevista quando se conheceram, tinha agido com tanta naturalidade após ouvir os acontecimentos, sem forçar uma reação super empática ou perguntar além do que devia. parecia tão independente e decidida, e ao mesmo tempo frágil e medrosa.

chegava sempre atrasada, o que ele relevava porque sabia que o metrô era um caos pela manhã, mas vivia trazendo livros diferentes para ler com maria, fazia as compras pra semana com o dinheiro que ele deixava e nos dias em que não tinha de se preocupar com trabalhos e relatórios se aventurava na cozinha do apartamento fazendo bolos, brownies, polvilhos.

enzo era envolto pelo ambiente que você criava, gostava de como a casa tinha passado a ficar mais bagunçadinha, e não no sentido ruim, mas por ter mais vida dentro, ele amava o cheiro dos confeitos quando chegava do trabalho depois de um dia longo, e sentia, novamente, a vontade de pertencer a alguém.

mas não era nenhum idiota também, antes de tomar o primeiro passo tinha te estudado, suas expressões e trejeitos quando conversavam, os olhos vacilantes que pareciam evitar os dele a qualquer maneira e os arrepios quando suas peles roçavam, mesmo que por breves segundos. o que tinham o levado a te presentear com um beijo no seu aniversário. a sem graceza e o seu acanhamento naquela data tinham feito a cabeça dele ferver com tantas possibilidades, as quais ele abraçou com muito gosto quando no final do dia se pegou se masturbando durante o banho.

a culpa que o consumiu depois foi avassaladora, pensando que um homem dez anos mais velho não deveria olhar para uma garota assim, que talvez, suas reações fossem de medo e de estranheza e que você se forçava a trabalhar ali para conseguir algum dinheiro e deixar a conta do banco positiva no final do mês.

— mierda. — resmungou quando derrubou chá no livro de poesias que tentava ler.

e só tentava mesmo porque a mente era açoitada com várias perguntas, que enzo não tinha a menor condição de responder num sábado de noite que ele tirava para descansar. maria na casa dos avós e ele com o apartamento num quase breu, se não fosse pelo abajur de luz amarelada na sala, onde ele se deitava preguiçosamente com o livro em mãos, agora pingando já que tinha se descuidado.

levantou e foi até a cozinha, tendo que acender as luzes para buscar algum pano limpo e tirar o excesso das páginas, notando pouco depois que sua calça moletom tinha sido molhada também. enzo, enzo... pensava consigo mesmo, nervoso por estar tão vulnerável com aquela história.

e teria tirado a peça inferior e colocado pra lavar se algo não o chamasse a atenção antes: um barulho de trancas, fazendo com que o moreno franzisse o cenho e caminhasse até a sala devagar. olhou para a luz que entrava por debaixo da porta de entrada, o que implicava que os sensores de movimento no corredor do andar tinham sido ativados e viu uma sombra zanzando. não poderia ser sua mãe, apesar de que essa tinha sim uma cópia das chaves do apartamento, ela com certeza ligaria se maria estivesse precisando de algo.

engoliu seco, olhando em volta, buscando um objeto que pudesse usar caso fosse uma tentativa de roubo, segurando o guarda-chuva, que tirava do suporte com cuidado, atrás das costas.

a imagem que tinha quando a porta se abria, contudo era no mínimo curiosa. você estava com o olhar baixo e os olhos pesados, uma roupa casual e que diga-se de passagem modelava bem seu corpo; um cropped e uma saia curta, os tênis ele já conhecia bem. e demorou a notá-lo ali, chegando a se virar e fechar a passagem com o molho de chaves que enzo tinha te dado no começo do ano; e aparentemente esquecido disso.

quando suas vistas se acostumavam com a penumbra do ambiente e você explorava o redor soltava um chiado alto, cambaleando para trás e levando a mão ao interruptor com rapidez.

— sr. vogrincic??! — se exaltou desentendida, lembrando do horário e colocando uma mão cobrindo a boca, com medo de receber uma multa ou algo assim já que sua quitinete era um cubículo e tinha paredes tão finas que ouvia até mesmo os mosquitos dos outros apartamentos. — o que o senhor tá fazendo aqui??

— eu é quem pergunto pra senhorita... — replicou e um riso apaziguado escapou-lhe, colocando o guarda-chuva no gancho novamente. — perdiste el camino a casa, chiquita? — cruzando os braços que estavam expostos na falta de uma blusa.

você se situava lentamente, sua carinha indo de espanto para vergonha quando entendia o que tinha acontecido. se encolhia, agachando e cobrindo a cabeça, choramingando. não estava no seu prédio, tão pouco no seu apartamento.

— nossa, o senhor vai me achar uma maluca... — levantando o olhar pra ele outra vez. — mas eu juro que não foi intencional! juro mesmo! fui numa festa aqui perto, mas começou a ficar chato e eu decidi ir pra casa, nem me toquei de que tava no automático e vim pra cá. — bufou sentida.

ele acompanhava, a maquiagem fraquinha e as unhas pintadas, que você evitava usar nos dias de trabalho, provavelmente porque enzo tinha dito que queria que maria tivesse uma infância duradoura e bem vivida, sem crescer antes da hora. você ficava cada vez mais linda e intrigante aos olhos dele.

— deixa disso, não tem que se desculpar... — colocou a mão sobre o peito e te fitou, mordendo o lábio brevemente. — na verdade, fiquei aliviado quando te vi.

— você pensou que era algum ladrão? — a pergunta saía num tom fraquinho da sua parte, sem conseguir processar que por estar avoada havia gerado aquela confusão. — me perdoa, por favor.

enzo suspirou e então se aproximou de ti, segurando seus ombros retraídos e deixando um selar na sua testa.

— já falei que não precisa se desculpar assim. foi um acaso. todo mundo faz as coisas no automático às vezes. — e ele até gostaria de dizer que tinha achado uma graça sua cabeça traduzir "casa" como sendo o apartamento dele, mas guardaria o comentário. — vem, fiz um pouco de chá mais cedo, deve estar quente ainda. — te puxando devagar para a cozinha.

suas olhadinhas eram bem furtivas, quando voltava a ter completo senso das coisas não lhe escapava a situação do uruguaio, vestindo só uma calça moletom, os cabelos compridinhos amassados e desgrenhados sem aquele gel todo que ele usava pelas manhãs para ir trabalhar, e a casa numa quietude intensa. enzo era como um gato marrom, daqueles que se dão melhor com senhorinhas e com crianças, mas que não gostam muito de sair, ou de brincar com aquelas bugigangas espalhafatosas, preferem o canto deles, mas de vez em quando aceitam algumas coçadinhas.

— a maria foi com os avós? — perguntava tentando puxar assunto e esquecer a grande gafe.

— foi sim. — respondeu enquanto pegava uma caneca no armário, fazendo com que os músculos das costas largas expandissem e contraíssem, te fazendo entreabrir a boca. até então só tinha visto ele com roupas de academia, mas não com tanta pele exposta. — quer açúcar ou não precisa?

— não precisa. — você pegou a porcelana, achando conforto na quenturinha que se concentrava ali, segurando com ambas as mãos e aproveitando para sentir o cheiro da bebida. — que bom que o senhor gostou, quando fui fazer as compras essa semana, fiquei na dúvida se pegava o chá de boldo ou se trazia o mate normal.

enzo gostava de observar como você contornava a situação e se ele estivesse um pouquinho mais cruel te faria explicar tintim por tintim do caminho feito e como tinha passado pela portaria do condomínio sem que antônio o interfonasse - já que era tarde o suficente para se desconfiar de uma visita casual -, mas se limitou a te olhar, esticando uma das mãos para tirar uma mecha que caía sobre seus olhos e colocar atrás da sua orelha. você estremecia, apertando a boca na borda do recipiente, fazendo contato visual, e nada disso o escapava.

— vou arrumar o quarto de hóspedes pra você dormir. — o mais velho adiantou.

— não. não precisa, eu já vou indo. — segurou o pulso dele e o fez virar apenas a cabeça.

— você acha que eu vou te deixar sair nesse horário? — falava mudando o semblante pra algo mais sério e sóbrio. — você termina o seu chá, vou deixar uma muda de roupa que você pode usar pra dormir em cima da cama. toma um banho e descansa.

e ali estava o enzo que você tanto ressentia, o enzo que te via como inconsequente e "muito nova" pra saber o que fazer da vida. quando este deixava a cozinha você formava um beicinho tentando muito não se frustrar. nem sequer conseguia culpá-lo por tratá-la assim daquela vez porque tinha praticamente invadido a residência. e se ele estivesse com colegas? com uma mulher talvez? seria horrível e muito provavelmente seria demitida. maria entraria na escolinha no ano seguinte então não deviam ter muitos argumentos que o fizessem mudar de ideia.

parou de divagar quando terminou o chá, caminhando para o corredor e vendo ele sair do quarto de visitas. um sorriso complacente aparecia nos lábios bonitos e um afago foi deixado no seu ombro antes que ele sumisse no próprio quarto. entrou ali e viu as roupas na cama, uma blusa que provavelmente era do mesmo e uma boxer com etiqueta, não conseguiu evitar de sorrir com o cuidado.

viu? era esse o embate, gostava do tato e da preocupação, mas queria que ele se preocupasse por simplesmente querer assim e não porque te achava bobinha.

foi para o banheiro com as peças nos braços e notou no fim do corredor que a luz amarela havia sido apagada, ele já devia estar deitado então. ao contrário do que poderia parecer, falta de educação ou descaso, enzo apenas confiava muito em ti, acostumado com a sua presença e sabendo que você estaria habituada com tudo ali de dentro para não precisar ficar de cima.

no banho, sua mente te castigava, não conseguia se concentrar na água ou nos músculos relaxando, se lembrava do beijo no seu aniversário... breve, mas o suficiente para que você se recordasse exatamente de como a boca do mais velho era macia, de como o toque dele tinha sido firme e gentil e de como o corpo te prensando contra a bancada fora gostoso. estavam sozinhos lá agora, talvez... se você só perguntasse o que tinha significado... fechou o registro e saiu, se secando e vestindo as roupas largas emprestadas.

os passos eram dados com muito custo, temerosos, e o corpo retesava quando se encontrava de frente para o quarto principal. "isso é besteira", dava meia volta e cerrava os punhos, "mas é a única oportunidade", levava o polegar até a boca roendo a unha e se virava outra vez, "vai só incomodá-lo com isso...", recuava quando a mão erguia para bater, "é só inventar uma desculp-

e a porta se abria.

enzo passando a mão na nuca, bagunçando ainda mais os cabelos que estavam enormes. os olhos fixavam-se nos seus quando ele te percebia, mas não disse nada. em segredo, ele estava indo te perguntar a mesmíssima coisa que saiu da sua boca em seguida, mas ele o faria provavelmente bem menos embolado e atropelado.

— sr. vogrincic eu preciso saber o que significou o beijo! — puxava o ar angustiada. — eu não paro de pensar nisso, não tem um único dia desde que aconteceu que eu não

mas o agarre te envolvia e te puxava para dentro dos aposentos, cortando o raciocínio. era rápido e ágil, mas não a ponto de te machucar, isso jamais. fechou a porta atrás de ti e te encostou ali, apoiando uma mão na madeira e a outra brincando com o tecido da blusa dele em você, enquanto a testa pesava no seu ombro.

— o que você prefere que tenha significado? — o tom que ele usava era de um homem cansado e vencido, não fisicamente, mas mentalmente, porque ele precisava saber tanto quanto você.

— eu... — a boquinha contorcia, os fios espetados dele fazendo cócegas no seu pescoço e a respiração quente te deixando arrepiada, com os mamilos marcados no tecido de algodão. — se eu disser... você promete não me demitir? — perguntava tirando um riso mudo de outrem.

— prometo.

você tomava coragem, deitando a cabeça pra trás e fechando os olhos, confessando.

— queria que significasse que o senhor não me acha uma garotinha indefesa e burra... queria que me olhasse como mulher, sabe?... que me desejasse como mulher... — a última parte saía falha.

por um minuto inteiro o único som que se ouvia era o de suas respirações, a sua afetada já, e a dele calma, o remanso do quarto diferente de como seus pensamentos chegavam em um turbilhão; a vontade de sair de lá correndo, mas a necessidade de estar perto superando e te mantendo no lugar.

enzo parou de embolar a barra da blusa nos dedos e desgrudou lentamente a fronte do seu ombro, passando a te encarar de perto, quase roçando seus narizes. você parecia prestes a chorar de nervosismo com a admissão, instigando um lado másculo e um bocado vil nele. como homem, ter aquele tipo de efeito em alguém era delirante, mas ele estava tão miserável quanto a garota pequena à sua frente.

— então você quer que eu diga que... — ele começava, vagaroso e provocante. — desde o primeiro dia em que eu coloquei meus olhos em você, te achei a coisinha mais linda? — depositava um selar na sua bochecha. — que todas as vezes que eu te vejo chegar aqui de manhã a minha vontade é de te beijar por vários minutos a fio e me atrasar pro escritório? — a língua morna alcançava seu pescoço, deixando um rastro antes de sugar a pele fina. — ou ainda, que não exista um único pensamento são quando eu chego do trabalho e te vejo empinada na máquina de lavar? é isso, chiquita? você prefere assim? hm?

— enzo... — sua voz era embargada por um choro que não era de tristeza, não era de medo, de dor, mas sim de uma fraqueza interna muito grande, incapaz de resistir ao feitiço que ele lançava.

— sí...? eu preciso que você fale, princesa... — as mãos grandes e àsperas procuravam pelas suas, miúdas e suaves, anovelando os dedos. ele puxava uma até os lábios e beijava na parte de trás, o olhar que costumeiramente era dócil com um ar felino te atingindo à queima roupa. — porque se for isso, eu posso resolver... — sibilou. — nós podemos...

— por favor... — você miou apertando os olhos e sentindo as lágrimas escorrendo pelos cantinhos.

— por favor...? — e enzo era impiedoso. estava prestes a mergulhar em águas muito fundas, mas sabia nadar, só precisava ter seu consentimento e estaria feito.

— preciso de você...

o vogrincic sorriu alargando a boca antes de te capturar num beijo ardente. o toque descia imediatamente para a sua cintura, segurando firme ali e te espremendo entre ele a porta de modo que fazia seus pulmões buscarem ainda mais por ar, coisa que a boca sedenta dele não permitia.

seus braços o envolviam o pescoço, mostrando o quão necessitada estava e ele não demorou a te alçar pelas coxas, te ajeitando no colo e andando até a cama, sem cortar o ósculo. se sentava na beira contigo e era imprudente ao lhe apertar a bunda, mas você não recusava, apenas se prostrava mais para ele, roçando os seios cobertos pela blusa contra o peitoral desnudo.

na sua cabecinha as sensações se mesclavam, dando curto circuito no cérebro. o cheiro dele, do perfume caro que ele passava todos os dias, exalando de cada canto do quarto, a língua quente explorando sua cavidade úmida e brincando com seu músculo afoito, as mãos apertando sua carne com um afinco absurdo, tudo. aos poucos, o que faziam deixava de ser uma fuga imoral do cotidiano, e se tornava seu único objetivo.

ele parava, te segurava as bochechas e observava seu rostinho, não precisava falar, ele já sabia... te tirou a camisa e deslizou os palmos por todo seu tronco exposto, os ombros, as clavículas, escorrendo pelo vão entre os seus seios e por baixo destes, sem conseguir evitar de soltar um arfar admirado.

invertia vocês na cama, te colocando deitada, os fios se espalhando pelo colchão e seu rostinho jovem ansioso preso nele; uma pena ele não estar com sua câmera ali. mas, enzo já tinha passado dessa fase... da fase das peripécias públicas, das rapidinhas, das provocações vazias, ele era um homem, no melhor sentido da palavra. a boca cheinha envolveu um dos mamilos arrebitados primeiro enquanto os dedos continuavam na missão de te afagar cada centímetro, e de tirar aquela peça íntima, que, apesar de ficar muito sexy em você, apenas atrapalhava agora.

rodeava e mamava o peito, sentindo seu gosto, deixando babado o bastante até que se arrastasse para o outro, oferecendo as mesmas carícias que te arrancavam resmunguinhos manhosos. e continuou descendo, mordiscando a barriguinha, sugando e deixando chupões como se decorasse uma tela.

— eres perfecta... — sussurrou e roçou o rosto em seu baixo ventre, entre o umbigo e a púbis, sentindo a tez quente e os músculos trêmulos abaixo dele. — para mi, solamente para mi...

subiu os olhos aos teus encontrando eles fechadinhos enquanto você aproveitava, mas negou, a mão te segurando o queixinho e o nome sussurrado te tomando a atenção novamente.

— quero que você olhe... — pedia percorrendo os dedos sobre seus lábios que o capturavam as primeiras falanges para chupar, tão mole e entregue que apenas fazia o que lhe vinha à mente. — assim... — ele deixava enquanto ia se acomodando entre suas coxas roliças.

beijava sua virilha, fazia desenhos imaginários com a língua por lá, te deixando quase aflita quando arrastava os dentes de levinho pelo monte de vênus. e era ainda mais difícil acompanhar aquilo sem poder desviar já que o uruguaio se certificava vez ou outra de que você continuava atenta. não sabia o que ele ganhava sendo tão maquiavélico, mas tinha a certeza de que ninguém chegaria aos pés dele.

quando ele finalmente abocanhava o sexo sensível e melado você revirava os olhos. as mãozinhas que descansavam no lençol descendo e se perdendo em meio ao cabelo castanho escuro.

enzo esticava a língua arrastando da entrada até o grelo inchado num ritmo moroso. brincava com o pontinho deixando que escorregasse pela superfície do músculo, ouvindo seus gemidos carentes. mas, precisava confessar que ao passo em que ficava cada vez mais duro era difícil não descontar em você, naquela buceta morna e gostosa que preenchia a boca dele, que ele mastigava e sugava fazendo o cômodo ser preenchido com uma melodia devassa de quando a carne estalava e de quando a língua dele penetrava seu canal ensopado.

o pau chegava a palpitar, mas não conseguia parar de te mamar, seu sabor era viciante. enzo vogrincic não te chupava apenas, beijava seu sexo, a língua girava, se contraía e esticava dentro de você enquanto o nariz se afundava na fendinha molhada, ele sugava o melzinho que fluía e engolia, se afastando com o rosto completamente passado, o inferior dilatado dos movimentos e da fricção.

— tan dulce, nena... me volvi adicto... — ele sorria de canto.

enzo se colocou de joelhos na cama, te olhando dali de cima, tendo a certeza de que nunca tinha tido paisagem mais estonteante. tocou o membro sobre o moletom, tão ereto que até as veias marcavam na calça. desceu o cós aos poucos e mordeu o lábio com força, gemendo fraquinho quando se envolvia e começava a punhetar. você olhava, entorpecida, oferecendo a mão pequena para substituí-lo, mas ele recusava.

— não, chiquita... hoje não é sobre mim... você vai ter outras oportunidades, hm? — disse simples, sentindo-se mais do que pronto e então se esgueirando para pegar algo no criado mudo.

— não...! — você pediu quando ele tirava de lá um pacote de preservativos, destacando um com os dentes e te olhando sem entender. — eu preciso de você... tudo de você... — sussurrava.

se a mente do vogrincic já estava anuviada de luxúria antes, você terminava de deixá-lo completamente perdido. queria tudo dele? o pau e a porra que ele te encheria? meu deus....

o homem se curvava sobre si de novo, voltando a te beijar com demanda. subia uma de suas coxas até estar coladinha no seu tronco e descia o olhar para sua entrada. pincelava, afundando a glande gordinha e rosada entre seus labiozinhos, roçando de um lado para o outro, até que você chamasse fininho "enzoo...", e enfim deslizava para dentro, nenhum centímetro sobrando.

— puta madre... — enzo gemia sôfrego para si mesmo. — tão apertada... — e nisso enfiando o rosto na curva do seu pescoço, se embriagando no seu cheiro misturado com o suor que os corpos soltavam pelo calor e pelo atrito, o perfume de sabonete remanescente do seu banho recente apenas dando as notas finais pra que ele ficasse louco.

o quadril se impulsionava no vai e vem, o membro grande e grosso te beijando o pontinho esponjoso desde a primeira investida, como se tivesse sido feito para si, modelado para te preencher. a posição que não podia ser mais intimista com ele sussurrando o quanto você era boa, o quanto ele precisava se derramar em ti e te fazer dele enquanto os torsos se amassavam e roçavam.

suas unhas que o arranhavam as costas a cada vez que ele metia mais forte te fazendo duvidar do quão mais conseguiria aguentar. ele tinha a deixado já tão suscetível com o oral e agora seu membro vinha, sujigando cada canto interno e externo da sua bucetinha estreita, era demais.

— enzo.. enzo... — chamava numa prece.

— não segura, nena... dejálo fluir, de-

e ele mesmo não se continha, sentindo os apertos deliciosos que suas paredes davam ao redor do falo latejante, apertando os olhos e gemendo rouco quando se enfiava uma última vez. a pressão do seu orgasmo praticamente o ordenhando ali dentro, despejando até a última gotinha no seu colo do útero.

sua visão ficava turva, a sensação de preenchimento sendo o suficiente para te exaurir e quando o vogrincic fazia menção de se mexer você negava, com um biquinho.

— fica mais... — pediu, sentindo ele concordar mudo, te ajeitando melhor debaixo dele para que ficassem confortáveis.

sabia que ele era um homem certinho, muito provavelmente que optaria por uma ducha antes de dormir direito depois de uma foda, mas estava tão bom... que você acordava apenas no outro dia com o barulho da campainha do apartamento.

sentava no colchão assustadinha e com os cabelos desalinhados. notava que ele tinha te vestido a camiseta de novo, mas nem sequer sinal da cuequinha. levantava e ia até o batente do quarto, espiando o lado de fora e então ouvindo a voz de uma pessoa mais velha e uma infantil, esperando até que a porta fosse fechada novamente; seria incômodo se os pais dele te vissem ali, naquele estado.

mal teve tempo de caminhar até a sala quando maria vinha correndo, erguendo a cabeça e abrindo um super sorriso quando te reconhecia.

— papai! papai! a tia vai morar com a gente? — ela segurava sua mão a puxando até onde o mais velho estava tomando seu café preto usual.

— bom dia, bela adormecida. — ele provocava te fazendo ficar sem jeito.

— papaiii — a menorzinha se escorava nele, e então apontava para ti quando ele voltava toda a atenção para ela. — a tia vai morar com a gente, 'né?

— não sei... você precisa perguntar pra ela, princesinha. — ele colocava a xícara sobre a mesa e se curvava pegando a criança nos braços e enchendo de beijos, antes de pararem e te fitarem. — diz pra ela, maria, que seria muito bom ter ela aqui.

— é isso que o papai falou. — a menininha soprava e então estendia o bracinho na sua direção, querendo o abraço de ambos ao mesmo tempo. — você vem?

e quando você finalmente os encarava, ambos te olhavam com aquela carinha irrecusável de filhote abandonado, com o mesmo efeito de ter o coração flechado. você se derretia e não tinha como não balançar a cabeça positivamente.

— se não for incômodo...

— nunca seria. — o mais velho deixava um beijinho na sua testa. — vem, vamos tomar café da manhã.

#la sociedad de la nieve #lsdln smut #enzo vogrincic smut #enzo vogrincic reader #lsdln #enzo brainrot #single parent trope #to muito triste de verdade

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nap-mak · 6 months

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LOTR in a modern world headcanons? I think yes.

I did this on one of my old accounts that i ended up deleting for some reason, i don’t remember, but here. Back on my Lord Of The Rings BS, let’s gooooo. This’ll be the fellowship with everyone intact, no one is dead.

As always requests are open and let me know if you want more!

LOTR x GN! Reader, general headcanons for if you had to take care of them today, in 2023. Enjoy!

The ring most likely has no power in this dimension, so yay Frodo is free from torment!

Sam loves watching cooking, gardening and home renovation shows, and he gets very invested in the former two. You learn a lot you didn’t really need to know from his commentary

Once Pippin learns about pyjamas and fuzzy slippers he never goes back, you literally cannot get him out of them

Boromir and Aragorn, being human and coincidentally two of the most responsible members of the fellowship, are the easiest to take in public to the grocery store and such.

You can pass off the hobbits (if they cover their ears with their hair) as children, and Gimli is your friend with dwarfism.

Gandalf you can pass off as your grandfather, and Legolas looks pretty normal if you cover his ears.

Pippin is the type to bounce in his seat in the car and ask “Are we there yet?!” every 5 minutes

Frodo really likes to draw, especially when there’s so many cool places and movies to draw inspiration from.

Movie nights? No horrors. The hobbits are terrified by ‘em.

Movie nights are literally so difficult because they all have such different tastes

Merry really likes James Bond movies.

Pippin is obsessed with nail polish when you introduce him to it. Boromir gets his repainted every time the polish come off. His nails need serious help after a while

Pippin and Merry often start pillow fights, and drag everyone else into it

If you have space for a garden or plants in your home, Sam is on it. He finds it calming, so now you have some home grown plants :)

Taking the hobbits in public? Bad idea. You can trust Frodo and Sam, but Merry inevitably drags Pippin off to do something dumb and possibly dangerous.

Gandalf has an old man rocker. There is no discussion.

The hobbits do the classic “getting one sibling to ask for fast food because whoever’s in charge will say yes”, they get Frodo to do this because he has the best puppy dog face and he’s unsure about asking for things normally.

Pippin and Merry cannot handle too much caffeine or sugar or they go crazy

You thought Legolas’ hair was good before? He steals your hair care products and his hair is literally perfect.

(He’s also willing to do skincare with you, not that his face needs it. Again, flawless)

Game nights are so chaotic. You can’t play a lot of games since they don’t know what many things from this world are, so games like Trivia and Charades are off the table

Gimli and Legolas verse each other in video games, often enough it ends with Legolas winning and Gimli rage quitting

Aragorn is so responsible he’s literally the perfect man to do anything with, and he can hold the fort down if you need to leave

Pippin is so clingy, he trails you wherever you go and asks you random questions but it’s adorable

Boromir insists on carrying your stuff, bags of groceries, all that

Frodo often goes to the library to find new books to read, with you of course

There’s a whole debate on whether 3D or 2D animation is better, i would not get involved if i were you.

Pippin and Merry are also avid fans of quoting their favourite movies, once they see them

Legolas and Frodo are the best listeners, they will just sit there and not judge or try to give you advice they just. sit there. like the perfect men they are.

Legolas would have a meme for everything. Like any situation. You text him like “PIPPIN FELL DOWN SOME WELL WE DON’T EVEN HAVE A WELL HELP” and he just has a meme that fits the situation perfectly.

Frodo and Legolas would watch Avatar: The Last Airbender together because it’s their favourite show. Aragorn jumps in also.

Those three are also avid tea drinkers.

Boromir likes Game Of Thrones. I don’t know anything about it, he just does. Please confiscate Pippin while he does.

Pippin gasps dramatically whenever a plot twist surprises him.

Sam loves to cook, and he does a lot of cooking in the house once he arrives. You two just work together in the kitchen (if you can’t cook, he’ll teach you) and have nice sweet conversations

Legolas is great at doing people’s hair. If you ask him to, he’d probably agree, though he’d probably be a bit flustered as that is a courting ritual in his culture.

Ask Legolas to talk to you until you fall asleep. His voice is so heavenly istg-

The hobbits get sleepy when their hair is played with and it’s adorable

Won’t lie this hyperfixation came back then it circled back to TMNT and today i watched these films with my friend and now i’m back to LotR love. Most of this has been sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks.

Anyway, I think that’s about it from me, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

If you want to request, rules are pinned on my page! Let me know if you want a general part two or a set of modern headcanons for a specific character. I love LOTR in the modern world content so much.

Have a good day, and remember that you are loved!

#lotr #x reader #fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #the fellowship x reader #gn!reader #frodo x reader #samwise x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #gimli x reader #boromir x reader #gandalf x reader #everybody lives #lotr in modern world #im not making aragorn a single hobbit parent no sir #so many tags

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 1 year

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Bring Your Kid To Work Day (BAU x Single Dad!Reader)

This turned out exceedingly long but I couldn't get the idea out of my head so I just had to write it out. I personally really wanna be a dad one day (with or without a partner) and seeing how the BAU parents handle their kids always warms my heart so much.

Wordcount: 5.4k

warning: kidnapping

Summery: Being a single dad is hard. Like really hard, and you thought that maybe bringing your son with you into work just once would be okay. Especially when his school was shut down but...

The blaring of the alarm woke you up from sweet elusive sleep.

You debated letting it ring but your arm went out to expertly turn it off.

7:09 A.M.

you wiped the sleep from your eyes and grabbed your phone from beside your alarm clock, being greeted by the single worst email you could have ever gotten. Your son's daycare was closed.

Your son attended a small local daycare, the entire facility had three teachers and two other employees, all off which —along with most of the kids as of recently— had come down with the flu. You sighed, discarding any thought of getting yourself ready before you found a solution to your childcare problem.

You had to be at Quantico in two hours and the drive alone took almost an hour. You called every single babysitter you knew, you were desperate but none were able to come by on such short notice so for lack of a better option you got yourself ready as fast as you could and went to wake up your son for a trip to Quantico. You just hoped it wouldn't bite you in the ass.

When you finally walked through the glass doors of the BAU offices you were half an hour late and carrying a sleeping four year old on your hip along with a baby bag over your shoulder to go with your usual briefcase.

Your out of sorts appearance got the attention of your coworkers and while you tried to put everything away by your desk and balance your still sleeping son in your arms, Morgan came up to you.

"What's all this L/N?" He asked and you turned and smiled at him, a smile that looked more insane than kind.

"This, is my son who is still sleeping from the drive because his daycare is closed and I couldn't get a sitter in time" You said, an underlying warning tone to your words.

"What you forgot to book a sitter?" Reid asked from his place at his desk.

"I didn't forget, they just sent the email this morning. All three teachers came down with the flu... along with most of the class" You explained and Spencer scooted away from you and the sleeping boy in your arms.

"Calm down Reid, this kid's immune system is like something out of a comic book, he's fine." You said as the rest of your teammates came over to join the scene.

JJ along with Rossi coming to join the gaggle of profilers ignoring their work for the far more interesting show of their coworker with his son.

"Did you talk to Hotch about it? I mean, about him being here" JJ asked, pointing to the toddler in your arms and you nodded. As a fellow single parent Hotch understood enough to give you the okay to bring your son to work, after all it was supposed to just be a slow day to get paperwork done.

Just then he began to stir in your arms and you decided to sit down, adjusting the four year old so that he was sitting comfortably in your lap.

"Hey buddy, good morning" You said, moving some stray hair behind his ear so it wouldn't bother him.

The toddler didn't seem to enjoy being awake though, instead choosing to burrow his head into the crook of your neck, much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

"He's a cute little guy, I'll give you that" Rossi said and you chuckled. He really is.

"He is but he's also a menace once he really wakes up, I'm sorry ahead of time for that. He's a curious little thing and he still doesn't understand boundaries, like at all" You say, grimacing knowing in only a little bit you son would surely be running around trying to find everything he could play with in the bullpen.

Honestly the more you thought about it the worse of an idea bringing him to work was, not that you had much of a choice. It was that or take the day off and that wouldn't have been ideal either.

"Developmentally that's actually completely normal, kids can't actually conceptualize the concept of another person with no interest in them until they're a bit older—" Reid started to explain but Rossi cuts him off.

"You can take my office. That way the little sucker has a limited space to wreak havoc in" He said and you looked at him gratefully.

"You really don't have to do that" You said but he shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, it'll help all of us in the long run, just try not to let him trash the place" He said and you smiled.

"Thank you" You said and were about to transfer your files to his office when Morgan suddenly grabbed your baby bag and briefcase.

"Let me help" He said and you smiled again, thanking him and taking your still groggy toddler up the stairs and to Rossi's office.

About an hour later you went down to get yourself some coffee. It was the first time you left Rossi's office since you got settled and the italian man came up to you to see how everything was going. He'd moved his own paperwork to your desk in the meantime.

"How's the pipsqueak?" He asked and you smiled, pointing with your head to the office.

"He's great, drawing quietly on the floor— and don't worry if he gets crayons on your floor I'll clean it up" You hurried to say but Dave didn't look worried.

"Don't worry about it, are you managing to get anything done?" He asked.

"Yeah, he explored the office for a bit but now he's good. Thanks again by the way, it's a huge help" You said and Dave patted you on the back.

"That's good" He said but turned once he saw his office door open in his peripheral and you heard the soft pitter patter of small feet running down the stairs.

"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I drew!" Your son yelled as he ran into your legs and shoved a piece of paper into your hands.

"It's you and me in your office" He said, showing you the picture of a crudely drawn man and child holding hands in an office.

You bent down to look at the drawing at his level.

"That's wonderful sweetie but it's not my office, you see Mr. Rossi is letting me work in his office while you're here with me at work" You explained and pointed to Dave who gave a small wave at the boy.

"Hey buddy" He said and your son gave a small wave back.

The little guy's running got the attention of the rest of the team including one eccentric technical analyst.

"Well what do we have here?" Garcia asked as she along with Reid and JJ came up to the three of you.

"Aren't you a little cutie" Garcia said, kneeling down to pinch your son's cheeks.

"Guys, this is my son Danny, Danny these are my friends Ms. Garcia, Ms. Jereu and Doctor Reid, and of course Mr. Rossi whos letting us use his office" You said introducing the team to your son but also your son to your coworkers.

"You look a little old to be friends with my Dad" Danny told Rossi and the rest of the team that had gathered around burst out laughing.

"Danny! We don't say that. That's very rude" You scolded him but he looked confused.

"But he looks old, like grandpa" Danny said and you had to hold back from laughing because he had a point.

"Danny, those are the kinds of thoughts we keep inside our heads, not outside" You told him and he nodded. It was a conversation you'd had multiple times before and was easier for him to understand than social rules at this stage.

"Can you apologize to Mr. Rossi?" You asked and he did exactly that.

"I'm sorry" He said and Rossi smiled.

"It's fine kid, I am a relic of a better time" Rossi said humorously.

"Hey Danny do you wanna see something cool?" Garcia asked and that got the four year olds attention.

"Yeah!" He yelled and you were about to remind him to use his inside voice when instead Garcia took his hand and lead him to her famously cool batcave. But of course just as things were going fine the universe had to turn the tables.

"Guys, conference room now, we have a case" Hotch said, coming out of his office and you sighed.

The rest of the assembled team looked at you before heading to the conference room, leaving you alone with Rossi.

"Well that's just great" You said, massaging your temple.

"It'll be fine, we all understand if you stay back this time" Rossi said, walking with you to the round table room.

"I still feel bad about it" You said.

You were about to grab Hotch to tell him you'd do exactly what Rossi suggested when Reid came up to you. He hadn't actually entered the conference room yet and had heard your short conversation.

"You're gonna stay back?" He asked you.

"It's not like I have much of a choice, what am I gonna do? take him with us?" You asked and though it was rhetorical Reid answered.

"You could. You could stay at the local precinct and help me with the geographic profile" The younger man said.

"Reid, I can't just bring bring a four year old with me on a case" You tried to explain.

"But it's obvious you can work while he's around. Besides not having you there with us would throw off the entire balance of the team" To a point he was right. You'd been with the BAU for over a decade and in that time you'd only missed a small handful of cases (most of which because you were too sick to work). The team was used to relying on you.

"Besides most hotels have babysitting services and we'll be there to help you" He continued.

"I'm really not sure, it was enough of a stretch just to bring him here" You tried to say but Hotch came out to tell you both to join the team.

"Hotch—" You started to say but he cut you off.

"I heard part of the conversation, do whatever you feel comfortable doing but your input on this case would be invaluable. The decision is up to you but I'd appreciate it if you joined us for the briefing anyways" He said and you nodded.

"Okay, I'll just go get Danny set up" You said.

"Garcia already set him up with markers and coloring pages in Rossi's office" He said and you nodded, taking a deep breath you joined them for the briefing.

As soon as Hotch began introducing the case you realized why he said your input specifically would be useful. Someone was abducting parents in Seattle but had recently changed his MO and began abducting the kids with them and most recently, just a kid. Hence why the BAU were called in and Hotch was hoping to use your experience from the crimes against children unit to work the case. You'd worked in crimes against children for 6 years before joining the BAU and had the most experience working child abductions. If the unsub had started going after kids you were the the best person for the case. Except of course that you had your own child to worry about.

"Wheels up in 30" Hotch said as everyone dispersed and you went to tell him your decision.

"I'm going with you" You told him.

"And Danny?" He asked.

"If it's okay with you I'll bring him with me. He's a well behaved kid, he won't bother us, I promise" You explained and Hotch nodded.

"Okay" He said.

When you told Danny he would be coming with you he was over the moon. Of course he didn't really understand what you would be there to do but he was so excited he was jumping around Rossi's office.

"Do I get a badge like you do daddy?" He asked and you chuckled.

"Yeah, we can get you your own badge if you want but you have to be on your very best behavior okay buddy?" You asked and he nodded feverently.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" He said.

He was so excited when he saw the jet and then even more so when you pulled a few strings to let him sit with the pilot in the cockpit (mostly so he wouldn't hear the team discuss the details of the case and their theories).

When you made it to the local precinct Danny was so tired from the six hour journey he couldn't walk on his own so you carried him in your arms. You could feel the strange looks of the local officers but you didn't care instead you found a small couch you could lay Danny on until he woke up.

"What's with the kid?" The detective in charge of the case asked Hotch.

"For agent L/N to be here he has to as well" Hotch said and the detective nodded, mostly because you were approaching and he didn't want to be rude and continue asking questions.

"Agent L/N, this is detective Alden, detective this is SSA Y/N L/N" Hotch introduced and you shook detective Alden's hand. "It's nice to meet you" You said, the rest of the team were already divvying up the work with Reid starting a geographic profile, JJ and Morgan going to analyze the most recent crime scene and Rossi at the ME's looking at the the most recent body. This of course left you and hotch to interview the family of the most recent missing child.

"Do you uh— need anything for the kid?" Detective Alden asked.

"No thank you, Doctor Reid's keeping an eye on his as he's working while Agent Hotchner an I interview the family" You explained and the detective nodded.

"Right, well the most recent vic's parents are waiting in an interview room if you wanna talk to them" The detective said and pointed you in the direction of the room.

Spencer was so far into his mind he didn't even realize that Danny (whom was resting on a couch in the room with him) had woken up until he suddenly felt a pull at his tie.

Looking down, it was Danny. The little boy was wiping the sleep from his eyes as he started to speak.

"Where's my dad?" He asked. Spencer smiled and turned to give the boy his full attention.

"Your dad's working right now but he'll be back soon. Do you need something? Are you thirsty? Hungry?" He asked and Danny nodded.

"I want juice" He said and Spencer smiled, remembering you'd told him everything he'd need would be in the baby bag.

"Do you know in what pocket your dad keeps the juice?" Spencer asked but Danny shook his head.

"That's alright, we'll find it together" He said.

Once they did, spencer helped stick the straw into Danny's juice box and gave it to him along with some pretzels he found tucked away with other snacks in the same pocket.

"What were you doing?" Danny asked.

"Oh— I was creating geographic profile" Spencer answered and Danny tilted his head in confusion.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Well it's one of the things we do to find out more about the bad guy we're trying to catch" Spencer said, trying to keep it as kid friendly as possible.

"Are you trying to catch a bad guy now? Is that what my dad is doing?" Danny asked and Spencer nodded.

"Yeah, it's what all of us do" He said and that got Danny excited.

"Does that mean I get to help catch a bad guy?" The little boy asked and Spencer started to sweat, he didn't want to disappoint the boy by telling him was in fact not going to catch the bad guy but he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't going to lie.

"Well..."

"Reid!" Hotch called from outside the room and Spencer had never been happier to see what was going on.

"Just a moment Danny" He said and went to talk to his boss.

"Another body was just found behind the North Star diner on Greenwood Avenue" Hotch said.

"The most recent abductee?" Spencer asked.

"Local PD haven't ID'd him yet but it looks like it" Hotch answered.

"Greenwood is only 1.8 miles from here, it's way outside his comfort zone"

"I know, see if there's any connection between there and any of the other locations" Hotch instructed and Reid nodded, getting back to work.

"Dr. Reid, I'm bored" Danny said once he re-entered the room. For a second Reid completely forgot the four year old was even there.

"Don't you wanna draw?" Reid asked.

"Not anymore" The toddler said, shaking his head.

"I want my daddy" He said.

"Uh, well—" Almost as if on cue one of the rookie local officers came in with you and Danny ran into your leg. Meanwhile the rookie gave Reid some files Garcia had sent over.

"Daddy!" Danny said and you smiled, petting his head.

"Hey buddy, have you been good for Dr. Reid?" You asked and he nodded.

"But I'm really bored." Danny said.

"Well I have to work but maybe you and officer Parker can go to the library across the street? Get something to read?" You suggested. Officer Parker had brought in the parents of the most recent victim. She'd only been on the force for a week and you could tell she was a bit faint when it came to this case.

"Okay!" Danny said and went over to the rookie cop.

"Are you sure?" Officer Parker asked and you nodded.

"Call me if you need anything" You said, you trusted her enough to spend half an hour with Danny and the library was only a two minute walk from the station. Besides you had to go to the crime scene and Reid was obviously out of his depth trying to both work and entertain a four year old.

"Alright" She said and led Danny out of the precinct.

"You seem a lot calmer" Reid pointed out.

"we're getting closer to getting this guy and that means we can get back to D.C sooner" You admitted and he nodded.

When you got back from the crime scene you were able to finally give the profile.

The entire team along with most of the precinct were assembled and Morgan started you off.

"We believe our unsub is a white man in his late thirties to early forties with some kind of fantasy revolving around parenthood."

"He's moved on from kidnapping parents alone to parents along with their kids and most recently just the kid. This means his fantasy's evolving and with it his MO. The first victims were on their way to pick up their kids from school, then two parents out on a date, a family on an outing and most recently a child walking home from a friend's house." JJ continued.

"He holds his victims for up to three days before he kills them, we think this for them to participate in his fantasy" Hotch said.

"And when that doesn't work or they don't cooperate fully he kills them by slitting their throats" Rossi finished.

"This man is already looking for his next victim. following this evolving pattern he seems to have realized he can get what he wants best by abducting only the child so warn parents and schools and question any adult acting suspicious in areas with unsupervised children" You said.

"This unsub has left his comfort zone, perhaps because of police presence and is devolving. He's holding his victims for shorter periods and it is likely his kills will become more erratic." Reid said.

"It's imperative we catch him now before he has the chance to take another victim" Hotch added finally before dispersing the crowd of officers.

You checked your watch, it's been almost an hour since officer Parker left with Danny.

"Have you seen officer Parker?" You asked one of the officers close to you and he shook his head.

"Is everything alright?" Hotch asked.

"I told officer Parker to take Danny to a library across the street, she was getting too nervous to be of any help and Danny really wanted to go out and do something but they haven't gotten back yet and I haven't heard anything from Parker" You explained.

"She has your personal number?" Hotch asked and you nodded.

"Something's wrong, I told her to call if anything happens" You said.

"Go over there, make sure everything's okay, we'll call if anything's urgent" Hotch said and you nodded a thank you.

"I'll only be few minutes" You said and left, trying to tell yourself everything was fine.

Everything was in fact not okay and when you got to the library you saw a police radio on the ground along with a book.

"No, no, no, no" You muttered to yourself as you dialed Hotch as quick as you could.

"Agent Hotchner—" He said once he answered but you cut him off.

"They're gone" You said, panic in your voice.

"What?" Hotch asked.

"They're gone. There's a police radio and a book matching Danny's reading level on the ground but they're not here and— Hotch they're gone!" You said.

"We're on our way" He said. Within minutes the team as well as multiple officers were at the library. The scene was photographed and morgan and JJ went inside to see what could be seen on the security cameras.

Hotch was speaking with detective Alden since one of his officers had also disappeared and Reid and Rossi were trying to keep you calm and walk you through what you knew.

"Did you give them a time frame for when to come back?" Rossi asked and you shook your head.

"No, but I told them to go get something for him to read, it doesn't take long, it— they should have been back" You said and Reid gave you a cup of water to help you calm down.

"It'll be okay, we know he keeps them for up to three days, we'll find them Y/N" Rossi said, trying to comfort you.

"I thought it would be fine, it was only across the street and we're nowhere near his abduction comfort zone, I— I thought he'd be safe" You tried to say.

"I knew this was a bad idea, I should have stayed back, I could have helped you from Quantico, I—"

"Y/N it's not your fault. We'll find them and they'll be fine. JJ and Morgan are going through the security tapes now. If he took them from the street we'll find him" Reid said, putting a hand on your shoulder, something you knew was hard for him.

"I'm a terrible father" You murmured but Rossi heard you.

"You are not a terrible father. You did what you thought was best and as soon as you realized something was wrong you acted on your instincts. You did everything right" Rossi said but you shook your head.

"I brought my four year old to a city with a devolving sociopath kidnapping and murdering children" You replied.

"He has officer Parker with him, the unsub took both of them probably under the assumption that Parker was his mother" Rossi reminded you.

"Yeah, Danny has her until our unsub realizes she isn't his mom and he kills her because she doesn't fit into his delusion." You reminded him back but you didn't have any more time to argue or spiral into your fears because Morgan and JJ came back out of the library with a photo.

"We found him" Morgan announced and you ran over to him.

"Garcia's running his image through facial recognition but this is him, there was clear footage of him using a knife to Danny to force Parker to put down her radio and follow him." JJ said but she saw this wasn't calming your nerves.

"We'll find them Y/N" She said and you nodded, you had to believe her because the other option wasn't something you could even bring yourself to imagine.

Danny sat, huddled into himself in the corner of a dark room. He wanted to scream when he felt the strange man's hands around him in front of the library but his mouth was covered by the man's hand. Now all he could do was cry, hoping you'd come to save him.

"I want my daddy" He cried when officer Parker—whose name he found out was Jenny— woke up. The strange man had knocked her out with the back of the knife once he had her in the back of the car.

"I know, we'll get out of here and he'll find us. Don't worry Danny" She said and Danny nodded. He didn't have any other choice, his young brain couldn't comprehend the alternative.

Soon the door to the small room they were both locked in opened and a man came in. He was pushing 40, with a receding hairline and a salt and pepper beard.

"Hey there little guy, how are you feeling?" The man asked but Danny just cowered into the corner.

"Don't be scared, look what I brought you" He said, pulling out a teddy bear.

"Isn't it nice what daddy brought you?" He asked, crouching down to Danny's height to give him the toy.

"You're not my daddy" Danny said quietly and that seemed to upset the man.

"You shouldn't say things like that, that's very mean. You should say you're sorry" He said, slowly standing up to tower over the young boy.

"I, I— I want my daddy" Danny cried and the unsub gritted his teeth.

"Don't you dare touch him" Jenny said, pulling together all her courage.

"Oh, is mommy getting protective?" The unsub asked, stalking towards where Jenny was laying, hands tied behind her back.

"I'm not— Just don't touch him. You are in so much more trouble than you know asshole. His dad's an FBI agent and when he finds out you took his son—"

"I'm his dad! I am! And if you're not his mother you're not of any use to me" He said, taking a knife out of his pocket.

The last thing Jenny heard was Danny's screams.

An hour later Jenny's body was discovered at a public parking lot at 63rd avenue. Her throat had been slit.

By then Garcia had found a match for the unsub.

The man who took Danny was one Edward Pugh, a 43 year old now single white man. He worked as a part time security guard and was living out of his late mother's old house on 39th avenue in Wedgewood. It was close enough that he could easily drive between his home (which was most likely the secondary location), the abduction sits and the dumpsites. As soon as you had his address everyone was getting ready to head there. You included. You strapped yourself tightly into your bullet proof vest and made sure your gun was loaded.

"Are you sure you want to be there?" Rossi asked and you resolutely nodded.

"There is no way in hell I'm not the first person my son sees once he's out of this mess" You said.

"But Rossi, I want you to lead the negotiation. Everything about this guy tells us he's not going to just give Danny up so, I want you to be the one who talks him down" You said and Rossi nodded.

"Of course, I'll tell Hotch" He said.

When you arrived outside the house the local PD already had the place surrounded within minutes Morgan was kicking down the door and you were faced with the most horrifying sight you've seen on the job.

Edward Pugh held Danny in his grasp, a knife to his neck as he backed into a corner.

"Don't move!" He yelled.

"Don't move or I'll kill him! I'll do it! Don't make me!" He said and you could see the fear in Danny's eyes.

"Daddy" He called and you could see Edward's hold on him tighten.

"Shut up!" He yelled at the boy.

Rossi came up, his gun lowered even as everyone else kept Edward in shooting range.

"Edward, put the knife down" Rossi said slowly.

"No. No. You're going to take him away" Edward said and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from speaking. He was right, you were going to take your son back.

"You care about him, don't you? You don't wanna hurt him" Rossi continued and Edward nodded.

"He's my son" Edward said. "But I will hurt him if you don't leave us alone"

"Edward, we just want the boy to be safe. Put the knife down and we can talk—" "No!" He yelled and you could see blood start to drip down Danny's throat.

"You're hurting him Edward. Put the knife down." You said, repeating Rossi's words.

"We won't take him. We just don't want anyone to get hurt. Okay, put the knife down, he'll stay with you just, put the knife down Edward" Rossi said and slowly he did so, though he still had his arm wrapped around Danny's shoulders.

You took a big breath of relief, at least there wasn't a knife held to his throat anymore.

"Daddy, please help me" Danny said, his big eyes watering as he looked at you and you smiled at your son.

"It'll be okay sweetheart. Just do what he says, you'll be okay" You told him. Making sure not to acknowledge his words, knowing it would only enrage Edward.

"You're doing this because you wanna prove you're a good father right?" Rossi asked and Edward nodded.

Garcia had told you all that Edward's wife had divorced him a few years back and right before the killings began she got full custody of their son.

"The thing is Edward, you have to prove that with your own kid. You can't prove you're a good father by taking someone else's child. This won't prove to your wife that you can be a father and it definitely won't prove it to the court" Rossi explained.

"Let the child go Edward. Let him go back to his father" Morgan said. carefully lowering his gun as did the rest of you.

"You did good Edward. Cooperate and that just might change your wife's mind" Rossi said and slowly Edward's arms fell from around Danny's shoulders.

You quickly holstered your gun and dropped to your knees, arms wide open allowing Danny to run into your embrace.

"Daddy!" He cried, all the fear and pain coming out in sobs. You heard Morgan cuff Edward and the police take him away but your focus was entirely on your son.

You pet his head and back, kissing his cheeks and whispering comforting words until he slowly calmed down enough for you to take him to the medics.

He refused to let go of you, something you very well expected along with the sudden shyness and anxiety around anyone he didn't know. Surprisingly enough when Reid came to check on you both he ran into his arms and hid his head in the crook of his neck, just like he did with you. It seemed the time they spent together in the precinct firmly situated Reid as someone safe.

Once Danny was cleared by the medics you took him back to the precinct sitting with him, playing with some of the toys you kept in his baby bag.

"Y/N" Hotch said, coming into the room and getting both your and Danny's attention. Danny scooted closer to you but didn't do anything else as you stood up to meet your boss eye to eye.

Hotch tilted his head towards the door, he wanted to talk outside but as you were about to follow him out Danny grabbed your pant leg.

"No! Don't go!" He cried and you had to steel your face so you wouldn't begin to sob all over again.

"Don't worry buddy, I'll be right outside" You tried to explain but he wasn't having it.

"No! No! don't go!" He cried and you sighed taking him into your arms to try to calm him down.

"Is it urgent?" You asked but Hotch, somewhat surprisingly shook his head.

"We'll talk about it on the jet" He said and you smiled thankfully.

He understood. So did the rest of the team when you began taking more days off, sometimes because like before childcare plans fell through and sometimes simply because you needed time with your son. But either way they understood.

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