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junghelioseok · 1 year

Text

miss taken.

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

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

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

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

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

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

Silence has never sounded louder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”

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

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

Better luck next time ;)

“That prick.”

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

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

Game on, mister.

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”

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

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

You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? You’ve got to say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It smells in here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up. “Yes?”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. "What?"

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

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

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

You didn’t. “Really?”

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d rather not.”

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

“Stored in my closet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims.

Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

“You wiped that part of the counter already.”

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

“Bug, can you set the table?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:

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

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

[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”

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

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

Hope you have a mug-nificient day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

///

“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cheers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)

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

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

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thejadecount · 3 months

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I love it how all of us Maxley shippers simultaneously headcanon that Bradley has horrible homophobic parents to justify redeeming him and making him kiss the other cartoon dog

#maxley #bradley uppercrust iii #max goof #max goof x bradley uppercrust iii #max x bradley #an extremely goofy movie #when in doubt #give the bully bad parents #works every time #am I wrong?#every single fic I have found has give him horrible parents #I’m glad we’re all in agreement #fanfiction #headcanons #headcanon

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missmics · 3 months

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Some more drawings on that "Charlie grows up on Earth in the 1930's" fic I'm working on, from before she and Alastor end up in Hell and meet Lucifer, because everything is getting messy

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #alastor #vaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #mimzy #razzle and dazzle #art #in the fic heaven makes alastor and mimzy think charlie is theirs #but they're an absolute mess together and Mimzy dies pretty early leaving him as a single parent in the great depression #he does feel bad about it (it was an accident)#then he meets lucifer in hell and has to coparent with him instead #que dad beat dad

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edenesth · 1 year

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One Day at a Time

Pairing: kindergarten teacher!Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: single parent au

Word Count: 15.4k

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

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

ATEEZ Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eunji-yah, I'm here!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa smiled, finally regaining his composure.

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

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

No, Park Seonghwa, this is wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She interrupted him, not letting him evade the truth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright?" She asked gently.

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

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

You bit your lip and rubbed your neck sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded shyly, feeling a mix of emotions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa pulled up outside your office building right on time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasted no time in getting to the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa didn't waste a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, your emotions got the best of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, his expression soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed, his gaze understanding and empathetic.

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

Your eyes met his, filled with gratitude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I miss him too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eunji perked up when she saw you enter the room.

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

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

Seonghwa chuckled at the scene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day had been exceptionally hectic for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Happy birthday." Seonghwa whispered.

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

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

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

Your eyes widened, this was news to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A rush of emotions swirled within you.

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

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

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

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

The sincerity in his eyes overwhelmed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa was a master of small gestures.

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

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

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

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

Seonghwa has become the perfect family man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed, lifting a hand to stop you.

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, Seonghwa turned to confront the landlady.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you bit your trembling lip, tears trickling out the sides of your eyes as you nodded slowly.

After you've calmed down, the two of you settled on your bed. Eunji was taking a little nap, giving you both a moment of privacy. You sat there, staring at the boxes of your belongings and feeling overwhelmed by the uncertainty of your future.

"What am I going to do?" You whispered, the weight of your situation pressing down on you.

Your boyfriend reached for your hand and gently squeezed it, "Move in with me... for good." He said with a calm tone.

You snapped your head up to meet his gaze, searching for any signs of reluctance. But all you found in his eyes was sincerity and an earnest desire to share his life with you and your niece. He leaned in, his thumb brushing your knuckles before he brought your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it.

"Please," He implored, "Let me be there for you. It's why I'm here. You and Eunji, you're my everything now, and I can't possibly sit around while you're struggling. Let me take care of you."

A lump formed in your throat as you shifted closer to him, your hand moving to cup his cheek. You croaked out, "I love you, Hwa," His heart melted at your words, and he chuckled tearfully, his eyes filled with affection. He had longed to hear those three words from you, "So, is that a yes?"

You nodded, and you sealed your decision with a gentle kiss. As you pulled away slightly, he couldn't help expressing his love for you, "I love you too, so much that it drives me crazy."

A week later, you and Seonghwa stood side by side in his apartment, gazing around the transformed living space with pride. The place had undergone a subtle but significant makeover, and now it felt more like a warm and welcoming family home.

The interior had brightened considerably, with cheerful colours and playful decorations that were clearly chosen with Eunji in mind. A colourful toy box stood in one corner, overflowing with stuffed animals and games. The walls were adorned with the child's artwork, showcasing her creativity and vibrant imagination.

Your boyfriend has been more than accommodating, allowing both you and Eunji to have a say in how the place was decorated. It was a collaborative effort that turned the apartment into a reflection of your shared love.

He made it clear that he would have been content even if the place had been transformed into a Barbie-themed wonderland.

All that truly mattered was being with you and Eunji.

"Tadaaa~"

Eunji's squeals filled the room as you removed your hands from covering her eyes. She darted around the apartment, pointing out everything that caught her attention. Her infectious excitement made your hearts swell with happiness as she skipped from one corner to another, exploring her new home.

Seonghwa stood beside you, a contented smile gracing his face as he watched your niece's enthusiasm.

Her presence and the shared sense of belonging in this new place filled him with a profound sense of fulfilment. This was not just an apartment; it was a home, a place where your love and family could grow and flourish.

The next day in kindergarten, Eunji's excitement was infectious as she rushed around, handing out invitations to her friends and her beloved second-favourite teacher, Joy. The little ones received their invites with wide eyes and giggles, their youthful enthusiasm matching your niece's.

"Ooh, what's this?" Joy's curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't resist opening the invitation right there.

Her initial surprise at receiving an invitation turned into a warm smile when she realised it was for your housewarming party. She found it amusing that you were celebrating in such a manner, considering it wasn't a new house but rather a symbol of the new life you, Seonghwa, and Eunji were embarking on together.

She couldn't contain her excitement as she approached Seonghwa with the invitation in hand. Her teasing tone laced with affection, "Why is it that I always have to learn these things from Eunji and not you?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and chuckled, a hint of playfulness in his response, "This is exactly why. You never let me live."

She burst out laughing before getting a little more serious, "Alright, fine. I'll let you off just this once. Can I bring my boyfriend, though?" She asked, her expression eager.

Seonghwa's eyes softened, and he nodded warmly, "Of course, Joy. I'd love to finally meet the poor soul that has to endure you for the rest of his life."

She mockingly smacked his arm, feigning offence, "Yah, Park Seonghwa! I take it back, you'll suffer today."

Meanwhile, your workplace held its own share of celebrations as you handed an invitation to San, your dear friend and colleague. A broad grin stretched across his face as he read the invitation, and he threw an arm over your shoulder, playfully teasing, "Aww, I'm so proud of you, bestie. Look at you, all grown up already."

You wriggled out of his embrace before he had a chance to mess up your hair, retorting, "San, I'm literally older than you."

With a shrug, he quipped, "Does it matter? You'll always be my little baby," He playfully pouted, attempting to look pitiable. But before you could respond, your manager interrupted the exchange with a loud clearing of her throat and a disapproving glare directed at him, "Choi San, this is your last warning," He immediately straightened up and saluted, "Yes, ma'am."

As soon as your manager moved away, he couldn't resist a cheeky comment, "I'm telling you, she has the hots for me," You rolled your eyes and playfully smacked him, "You're ridiculous. If we get fired someday, I'm blaming you."

The weekend had arrived, and your housewarming party was just hours away.

Your heart swelled with happiness as you watched Seonghwa twirl Eunji around the living room. Your niece, dressed in her new Elsa costume, giggled with delight, her laughter filling the room.

While the two of them enjoyed their cute little dance, you were in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the food spread. The aroma of homemade dishes wafted through the air, making the atmosphere feel even more inviting.

The excitement was palpable as you glanced around the room, taking in the decorations, the array of snacks, and the cosy ambience you worked hard to create. Everything was ready, and you couldn't wait for your friends to arrive, celebrating not just a new house, but a new chapter in your life with Seonghwa and Eunji.

One by one, the guests arrived.

The first to arrive were Joy and her boyfriend, Hyoseob. You greeted them with a warm smile, "Oh Joy, I'm so happy you could make it!" She beamed in response, giving you a hug, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Seonghwa, always quick with a teasing remark, couldn't resist the chance to rib Joy about her relationship, "Ah, you must be the famous Shin Hyoseob. Just so you know, Joy never shuts up about you, like ever." This was his chance to get her back for all the times she's relentlessly tormented him about your relationship at work.

Not long after, San arrived, and he immediately scooped up Eunji in his arms, causing her to giggle with delight.

He joined the group, and you introduced him to your boyfriend's colleague. As predicted by Seonghwa, San and Joy hit it off right away, chatting and laughing as if they'd been friends for years.

Soon, Eunji's friends began to arrive one by one, and the house filled with laughter and the joyful chaos of children running about. You would have panicked had it not been for Seonghwa and Joy's expertise in having so many kids under control, the two of them kept a constant watchful eye to ensure they didn't cause any trouble.

The party was now in full swing, and it was a heartwarming sight to see everyone come together to celebrate this special day with you and your little family.

As you sat with the adults at the dining table, your attention kept drifting to your niece, who was happily playing with her friends in the living room.

A bittersweet ache tugged at your heart as you thought about your sister and how she would feel about the life you've created for her daughter. You wondered if she was looking down on you, proud of the strength you'd shown and the love you'd poured into raising Eunji after her passing.

Just a year ago, if someone told you that your life would be this full of love and happiness, you might have thought them delusional.

But now, surrounded by all the people you loved, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Your life was filled with friends who had become like family, a beautiful niece who brought joy into your world, and a man who had become your partner in this journey.

Seonghwa noticed your silence and the distant look in your eyes. He slid his hand into yours, capturing your attention as you turned to look at him, "You okay?" He asked, concern evident in his eyes. To you, he felt like a guardian angel, sent by your sister to protect you and bring happiness into your life.

You nodded and offered a small smile, "I'm fine."

He wasn't entirely convinced, but he smiled back at you and leaned in to place a gentle peck on your temple. His affectionate gesture didn't go unnoticed by your friends, who couldn't resist teasing you both, causing your cheeks to flush with a lovely shade of embarrassment.

As the party came to an end and the last of the guests had left, you began the routine of settling your niece for the night. After a warm, relaxing shower, you tucked her into bed.

Eunji grinned up at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "Aunty, that was the bestest party ever!" She exclaimed. You chuckled, leaning in closer to her, "Really? Are you happy?" She nodded enthusiastically, her little face glowing with happiness, "Yes, I love it very, very much!" You gently stroked her cheek and gazed at her lovingly, "And I love you very, very much."

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had been quietly watching the interaction between you two from the room's entrance. His heart never failed to flutter every time he witnessed the bond between you and your niece.

Eunji let out a huge yawn, and you patted her stomach, indicating it was time for bed, "All right, off to bed with you."

The child giggled and nodded, snuggling under her blanket, "Goodnight, aunty. I love you very, very much too."

Hearing those words from her, even though she has said them many times before, touched your heart in a different way. You leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you more." Your words held the promise of endless love and protection, and Eunji drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

Later that night, as you finished up your skincare routine in your shared room, Seonghwa approached you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His concern was evident in his voice as he spoke, "Are you alright, love?"

You smiled, appreciating how well he knew you. Pulling off your face mask and tossing it aside, you turned to face him.

"Nothing ever goes past you, huh?"

Your boyfriend shook his head, his eyes filled with understanding and affection, "Nope, not when it comes to you, you know that," You wrapped your arms around his neck, deciding to open up about what has been on your mind, "I thought about my sister a lot today."

He tightened his embrace, knowing that this was a sensitive and emotional topic for you, "I was thinking about how she'd feel if she could see where her daughter is today and if she'd be proud of me."

Moving one hand to cup your face, he spoke, "I don't need to be your sister to know that she would be so proud of you. There's no one else who could love and care for her daughter more than you." You felt your heart swell with love for the amazing man who stood before you.

As you chuckled and nuzzled into his touch, you playfully admitted, "I was also convinced that you're my guardian angel sent by her."

Seonghwa grinned, maintaining the playful tone, "Aw man, that was our secret. How did you find out?"

Your laughter filled the room, and he watched you with adoration. Once you've calmed down, you whispered, "I love you so much, Hwa. I can't believe you're really mine," He leaned in closer, his eyes filled with warmth and affection, "Well, you better believe it because I love you even more."

With those sweet words, he pressed his lips firmly onto yours, sealing your love and commitment to each other. In that tender moment, you both knew that you'd found something truly special in each other, something that would last a lifetime.

Am I the only one who thinks Seonghwa is literally husband material? I doubt it but good GOD, does this man make me yearn for marriage and motherhood. Y'all know I'm lying to myself when I say I'm not a whole ass simp for him.

Hope y'all enjoyed and as always, would love to hear all your thoughts on the story, so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #single parent au #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot

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hannarchive · 7 months

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✨ HANNArchive BTS Fic Recs ✨

A little collection of my favorite fics I’ve read over the past year. Please go support the writers. ❣

✰ Clingy by @bonny-kookoo (Series, ongoing) WolfHybrid!JK x OtterHybrid!Reader. Smut, angst, fluff? Strangers to ??

✰ A Sea of Indigo by foxymoxy(Ao3) / @foxymoxynoona (Series, 48 chapters, 240k words) PitbullHybrid!JK x HumanNurse!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

⋆ also check out this drabble(tumblr) (3k) and the sequel A Beautiful Beyond (AO3 / tumblr) (14.3k)

✰ Pi Gasu by @jungk0oksthighs (Series, ongoing) Vampire!JK x Donor!Reader. Angst, smut, romance. ⋆ Obsessed with this!! I’m down bad for this jungkook fr. Haven’t been this into a vampire fic in forever. (Not sure it’ll get finished tho, as the author don’t seem to be active anymore. I still enjoyed it tho)

✰ Long Way Home by @sparklingchim (Series, 49.5k (+ drabbles) ) Single Dad!JK x Best Friend!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Alpha Jeon by @pbandjk (Series, 87k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Luna!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Warlock!Tae x Witch!Reader. Enemies to lovers. Angst, smut, fluff.

✰ Evocation by @bonny-kookoo (Series) Dragon!JK x Dragon!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Fragile by @augustbutwinter (drabble, 681 words) Jimin x Reader, established relationship. Hurt/comfort.

✰ Of Bears and Bonds by @yoonia (One shot, 19k words) Bear!Jin x Witch!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Someone to Love by @lubdubsworld (One shot, 6k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Omega!OC. Angst, fluff, mild smut.

✰ Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Mafia AU, JK x Reader. Angst, smut, fluff.

#fic recs #HA fic recs #bts fic recs #bts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic rec list #hybrid bts #vampire bts #bts x reader #single parent #single dad!kook #best friend!reader #f2l

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profoundbondfanfic · 13 days

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A Day In The Life Of A Newly Single Dad

A Day In The Life Of A Newly Single Dad by Hectatess | @hectatess Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 9.7k

Raising a teen girl is an adventure every day, especially when you’re on your own, and Dean is so glad the internet is there to help him. He loves the advice videos from the YouTuber named Newly Single Dad. The fact that the man is gorgeous and has a voice that sounds like it should read adult audio books has nothing to do with it… Castiel doesn’t mind raising his adopted nephew and niece. He does mind that their old house is falling apart on them. Luckily the videos of YouTuber JustGoodHands help him out immensely. Plus the guy is quite a sight for sore eyes, with his freckles and green eyes. But he knows they shall probably never meet. Then one day he gets a text from the father of Claire’s best friend Emma…

Okay, raise your hand if you’re a sucker for Dadstiel like I am. If your hand is up, did you know that there’s a writing bang just for Dadstiel fics? Credit goes to our fandom for having a bang for just about anything, and to all the writers who continue to give us stories, even years after the show has ended. Add to it the endless bounds of creativity and new scenarios to put our two favorites in and you've got yourself into one lucky Fandom.

Add this sweet story to the spoils. In it, we meet versions of Dean and Cas who both like to post videos on YouTube; Dean as a helpful handyman, and Cas as a newly single dad after he becomes the only parent to his niece and nephew. They are fans of each other, with a pair of wicked crushes to go along with everything else, so imagine both their surprise when they figure out that they're daughters are actually best friends.

This story is adorable. Soft dad's Dean and Cas are irresistible, and I'm always a big fan of any story that includes Emma when Dean is a single dad. This story gives us a few POVs, including a scene or two from the kids, which is always fun. Added in is a little drama toward the end to bring the men together, but all’s well that ends well, at least in this cute fic, which is all most of us want out of our fan fiction at the end of the day.

Enjoy!

#destiel #fic rec #teen and up #<10k #au #modern setting #as parents #angst with a happy ending #two person love triangle #author: Hectatess #A Day In The Life Of A Newly Single Dad

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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months

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this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 8: i'm homesick also on ao3 all chapters masterpost rated e

🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰

Eddie woke up to drool.

Which should probably be more concerning, but considering he had a teething baby, he was used to a little drool.

The part that was confusing was that his baby was asleep in her crib in the bedroom next to him.

The drool on his chest was Steve’s.

Oh, he would never live this down.

Eddie let his fingers ghost through the strands of Steve’s hair, glancing at the clock to see that it was nearly seven in the morning. They were supposed to call the realtor at eight.

Eddie needed to be on the road by lunch so that Mia would nap for most of the ride back to Hawkins.

The urge to ignore all of that was strong, but they couldn’t ignore their future. Not now that it seemed like they might have a chance.

“Stevie, it appears there’s a leak in the apartment,” Eddie said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Steve’s head shifted, his nose rubbing against the drool on Eddie’s chest followed by a groan.

“Disgusting,” Steve said. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You sleep okay?” Eddie tightened his arms around Steve, not wanting to lose this moment quite yet.

“Yeah. Loved this,” Steve poked his side and kissed his chest. “Could definitely get used to this.”

“Well, if we don’t get to the showing, we may not have it anytime soon.” Eddie nudged Steve off of him so he could get up. “Mia must still be asleep so I’m gonna take a quick shower before she decides to bless us with her presence.”

“No rush, baby. I got her if she wakes up.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

When Eddie walked into the kitchen, fully dressed and halfway packed already, Robin was sitting at the table holding Mia while Steve cut up fruit at the counter.

“My goodness, Mia, it looks like you’ve made a new best friend,” Eddie said as he kissed the top of her head.

“Dada!”

Steve dropped the knife in his hand and turned to them. Robin’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she looked between Mia and Eddie.

Eddie was pretty sure his heart was on the floor.

“Did she just-“ Robin started to ask, only to be interrupted by Mia kicking and yelling it again.

“Dadadadadada!” Mia squealed out.

“Yeah, I’m dada,” Eddie said, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around.

“Mama! Dada!” She exclaimed. He could feel Steve come up behind him and watched his hand go to her back, covering his own.

“Someone’s so talkative this morning,” Steve said. “You were so excited to see your dada, weren’t you?”

“Dada! Dada!”

Eddie was crying, Steve was crying, even Robin was trying to hide a tear that slipped out as Mia kept repeating her new word.

Steve kissed his cheek, then Mia’s, before going back to what he was doing.

"So what time are you going to the house?” Robin asked them.

Eddie looked away from Mia to look at the clock. “Hopefully within the next hour. We gotta try to get on the road.”

Robin nodded once. “I’m off to work. I’m glad you came to visit, Eddie. And I’m glad I got to get to know Mia. She’s probably my favorite future roommate.”

“Yeah, right. Until she cries all night from a fever,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Or until she takes up all of Steve’s attention.”

“Oh, I’ve been begging for someone to take up some of his attention. He’s very needy, ya know.” She gave Eddie a quick side hug and touched Mia’s shoulder. “You guys be safe going back and make sure you call when you get home so I don’t have to watch Steve pace a hole into the carpet.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Steve said as he moved fruit he’d been cutting up onto the high chair tray.

“Uh huh.” Robin grabbed her small purse from the hook by the doorway out of the kitchen. “See you guys!”

“See ya!” Steve and Eddie called at the same time.

“Buh!” Mia yelled out.

“I cannot believe you finally said it,” Eddie said to Mia in awe as he set her in the high chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally say Dada for two months and you decide to do it here.”

Steve set a plate of toast in front of Eddie and kissed the top of his head. “I’m gonna go shower so we can head out. Eat.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Eddie saluted. Mia let out a laugh as Steve rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen. “Alright, princess. We’ve gotta eat up so we can be big and strong and walk around this house that we might move into.”

“Mama?” Mia turned her head to look for Steve, then looked back at Eddie with a frown. “Mama.”

“Mama’s in the bath. He’ll be right back. You eat your bananas and grapes.”

When Steve was done, Eddie went to finish packing up the last of their things, looking around at the place he’d hoped would be their new home. He couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss still, even knowing that they were working on finding a new home for all of them. He’d wanted this to work so badly.

“You ready, baby?” Steve asked from the door, holding Mia in one arm, diaper bag slung over the other shoulder.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Sure am.”

******

The house was perfect.

Eddie felt like crying the moment he stepped onto the front porch. Even with the broken parts, even with the chipped paint along one side of the house, even with the slightly overgrown front yard, it was perfect.

The inside was even better, already mostly done in the ways he’d always imagined a house with Mia to be. The bathroom that needed work was still better than the one he currently had in the trailer.

The backyard needed to be fenced in, but he knew they could work on that over the next year before Mia was big enough to outrun them.

He kept sharing looks with Steve, going room to room as the realtor spoke about the natural lighting in the bedrooms and double sink in the master bathroom. They hadn’t made it obvious they were together— they weren’t stupid —but it was pretty clear the realtor caught on to them being together.

“You mentioned another person moving in?” she asked when they got to the last bedroom.

“Yes, my best friend would be moving in for a bit to help with the bills,” Steve offered. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Quite a few homes surrounding the city are mixed family homes just due to the cost of living. My only suggestion is to keep all utilities in your name so that if they move out, it doesn’t become a hassle of removing them from everything.” She opened the door to the final bedroom. “I assume this would probably be their room. It looks out at the backyard and the street behind you, which is still a part of this neighborhood and isn’t a very busy road.”

“Yeah, she’ll like this room.” Steve smiled. “And you mentioned the current owners are already moving out next week?”

“Yes, they’ve already bought another home in the city. As you can imagine, that’s quite a financial strain and they’re very willing to get a deal done as soon as possible, even if it means a lower offer.”

“Could we have a minute?” Steve asked. The realtor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Steve turned to Eddie, who was setting Mia down on the floor to explore. “So?”

“It’s perfect, Stevie.”

Steve closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, and kissed him softly. “It is, isn’t it?”

Eddie nodded, brushing the hair away from Steve’s face. “I can picture everything here. I see you setting up a sprinkler in the backyard and running through it with Mia. I see us having family game night at the kitchen table. I see us sitting on the porch while Mia draws on the driveway with chalk. I see it all.”

“Me too. I want all that with you. Here. Can we?”

“We should. Do you think we can make an offer today?” Eddie turned to see Mia trying to pull herself up by the window ledge. “Maybe by the time I get back to Hawkins, we’ll have an answer.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’ll go tell her.”

“We’re really doing this?” Eddie was hesitant to truly believe this was happening, especially after how quickly the weekend had turned into an unknown future. “We’re buying a house?”

“We’re buying this house.”

“Wayne’s gonna be insufferable. I’m gonna have to listen to him talk about the foundation’s integrity for the next three months.”

“It’s already been inspected. I promise, it passed.”

“It may have passed with a professional. It has not passed with Wayne.”

Steve snorted. “Well, he can come inspect anytime. He can have a copy of the key, even.”

“Don’t offer that. He has the worst timing in the world.” Eddie glanced over to Mia, who was now standing at the window, banging the ledge as she used it to hold her weight. “Mia seems to like it here.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Yeah, she looks happy. Do you think you’d be happy here? With me?”

“I know I would be, sweetheart.”

“We’re buying this house?”

“We’re buying this house.”

“Mia, you like your new castle?” Eddie asked Mia, who looked over at them and quickly lost her balance, falling on her butt with a grunt.

“Dada! Mama!” She started to crawl back to them with a big smile.

They both sat down on the carpet and waited for her to get to them. Mia climbed into Steve’s lap, tugging his shirt until she was situated comfortably on his thigh.

“You like this place, little one?” Steve asked her, kissing the top of her forehead.

Eddie watched as Mia clapped her hands together and smiled up at Steve.

“I think that’s a yes,” he said quietly.

“I think so too,” Steve stole a quick kiss from Eddie before lifting Mia into his arms and standing up. “Let’s go buy this house.”

It seemed kind of crazy to Eddie how simple this turned out to be. He half expected them to find flaws in the house, or disagree on the cost, or the realtor deciding she didn’t want to work with queers.

But maybe he finally deserved something simple. Maybe they all did.

******

The goodbyes weren’t as difficult now, the certainty of this being temporary enough to keep the tears from falling, at least until Mia was in her carseat in the van and Eddie was backing out of the driveway of their future home.

Steve was sticking around to discuss the boring part of it all with the realtor, and hopefully, by the time Eddie and Mia made it back to Hawkins, they’d have an accepted offer and paperwork to sign.

Eddie would have to come back to sign everything once it was drafted up at the bank and with the insurance company, but he would make it work.

Mia babbled a bit in the backseat while Eddie sang along quietly to his Iron Maiden tape. She eventually got quiet, and Eddie glanced at the mirror he had facing her to see that she was asleep.

He let his mind wander to the future, to everything he and Steve would be able to do in their own place. He thought about Mia having her own room, a backyard that she could run around in, easy access to a city that she could be herself in, whatever that may be. He wondered if Robin would live with them for a while or just while they figured everything out.

He even pictured a day where they could have more kids, give Mia a brother or sister or both, and take family pictures to hang up in frames on the walls of their house.

It wasn’t easy for him to picture his life like this before; He’d never had any reason to believe he’d have the picket fence version of life that so many people seemed to have. He’d always been okay with it, at least until Mia came into his life. Even then, he figured as long as she was fed, clothed, and had a roof over her head, he’d be happy.

But now that he had a taste of this kind of life, now that he saw the house he’d get to raise Mia in, he knew this was what he’d always wanted.

“Can’t believe Steve Harrington got to me like this,” he shook his head fondly.

*******

Wayne greeted him at the door, immediately taking Mia’s carseat from his hands and going inside.

“Nice to see you, too,” Eddie grumbled, walking back to the van to grab their bags.

“Oh, hush. You know I’m happy to see ya, too,” Wayne said over his shoulder.

Eddie smiled. “Steve call?”

“He may have.” The screen door closed before he could get more information.

“Dammit,” Eddie rushed to grab the bags and get inside.

“What did he say?” Eddie dropped the bags on the floor unceremoniously, going to the kitchen to call him back.

Mia was babbling in Wayne’s arms as he joined Eddie in the kitchen.

“Dada!”

Wayne’s jaw dropped.

“Oh! She learned a new word. Said it this morning and I cried and decided to give her anything she wants for the rest of my life.” Eddie smiled at Mia. “What did Steve say?”

“Well, first of all, he said to call him when you get back.” Wayne reached out for the rice snacks on the counter to hand one to Mia. “And then he said your offer was accepted by the owners.”

Eddie felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Really? Already?”

Wayne walked over to him, tears already gathering up in his eyes, too. “Yeah, son. Looks like you’re gonna be a homeowner.”

“Holy shit.”

“Sh! Sh!” Mia couldn’t quite make the right ‘sh’ noise, but it was close enough for Wayne and Eddie’s eyes to widen.

“Looks like ya might have to start watchin’ your mouth around the princess. Seems she’s reached her mimic stage a bit early,” Wayne laughed. “Your dada’s been sayin’ bad words since he was eight. Don’t let him fool ya.”

“Alright, alright. I’m gonna call Steve back and then it’s time for Mia to have some dinner and a bath and a bedtime story.”

“Mama!” Mia turned her head around at Steve’s name, clearly searching for him.

“Mama’s not here, baby. Sorry. But I’m gonna call him and you can say hi, okay?” Eddie picked up the phone and dialed Steve’s number from memory. He took Mia in his arms and sat down at the table as he waited for Steve to answer.

“Hello?”

“Mama! Mama! Dada!” Mia started clapping the moment she heard Steve’s voice through the phone.

Steve laughed. “Hi there princess. I miss you already. Are you being good?”

“Mama. Ma. Mamamamama!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve snorted. “Did Wayne tell you the good news?”

“He did.” Eddie smiled into the phone even though Steve couldn’t see it. “What do we do now?”

“The next part is kinda out of our hands. The realtor has to work with the bank to get the papers done properly and then when they’ve gotten that done, we’ll both have to sign everything.”

“When do they think that’ll be?” Eddie let Mia sit in front of him on the table, one hand holding her side so she wouldn’t fall. “I don’t know if I could get back there before next weekend.”

“Yeah, I mentioned that to them. They said it would probably take at least 14 days to have the closing paperwork done. And they also said we didn’t have to go together, so I could go sign when it’s ready and then you can go sign the first chance you get.”

“I wanna do it with you, though. It’s a big deal. Our first house.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, our first house. We’re buying a house.”

“Sh!” Mia copied, grinning up at her dad.

“No, Mia, not that. God, Mia’s trying to say bad words before she even says Papa or anything. Okay.” He sighed. “So I can just make sure my boss knows in about two weeks I’ll probably have to take a day off to drive there and sign.”

“He won’t fire you or anything, right?” It sounded like Steve was in his kitchen, cooking dinner for him and Robin. “If he finds out you’re moving?”

“No. I already mentioned to him it was a possibility and that I’d be grateful for any recommendation he could give me on a job search.”

“Good. Just don’t want you to be without a job.”

Mia started playing with a strand of Eddie’s hair, tugging on it lightly. He knew it would get rougher if he didn’t distract her, though. He held up the cord of the phone in front of her and showed her how it coiled.

“I won’t be.” Eddie sighed. “I miss you already.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Wayne grumbled before leaving the room.

“I miss you too. You okay?” Steve sounded genuinely concerned, almost like he’d be willing to drive to Hawkins if Eddie’s answer was no.

“I’m alright. I’m actually-“ Eddie laughed. “I think this is maybe the best I’ve ever been. Other than the missing you part, but that’s just for now. Like, within the next month or two, I’ll be with you all the time. And Mia can have us both all the time.”

“Yeah,” he could hear the grin in Steve’s voice. “I can’t wait to share a home with you. Did you tell Wayne about it yet?”

“No, called you almost as soon as I got in the door. He can hear all about it later.” Mia tapped Eddie’s cheek. “Mia’s gonna love having her own kingdom to rule over.”

“I’m sure she will. I already stopped by the store to look at paint samples for her room,” Steve admitted. “I didn’t think pink fit her, but there was a nice lavender that might look nice on one wall.”

“I’ll let you handle that stuff. Maybe she can pick from a few options. Would you like that, Mia?” Eddie poked her nose and smiled when she giggled. “I bet you’d pick something so colorful it hurts our eyes.”

“Dada.” Eddie waited to see if she did anything, but she didn’t.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get some dinner into Mia’s system. You want me to call you when she goes to bed?” Eddie asked.

“How about I call you after I talk to Robin?” Steve offered.

“Sure, just not too late. Wayne’ll be going to bed soon, too.”

“Should be by nine, baby,” Steve’s voice changed to something softer. “You know I love you more than anything, right? I’m so fuckin’ happy I get to do this with you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I love you so much. This is more than I could’ve ever dreamed of for us,” Eddie said quietly, watching as Mia grabbed his hair again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Eddie hung up the phone and started to get Mia’s dinner ready. Wayne had already been making something for them before they got home, some chicken and green beans that could easily be cut up for Mia. He set her in the high chair and started passing some of the cooled off and cut up green beans.

“Are they yummy, Mia?” He asked as she shoved a piece into her mouth.

“Me.”

“Yummy!” Eddie nodded. “We love when Wayne makes green beans, don’t we?”

“Suckin’ up to your old man, now?” Wayne asked he walked in. He stood next to Eddie and started shredding a piece of chicken for Mia. “I already gave my blessing to move. Not sure why ya feel like bein’ so nice.”

Eddie nudged his shoulder. “Maybe I’m just appreciating you before I don’t have you helpin’ me out all the time.”

Wayne froze for a moment, just enough to make Eddie pause in his movements, too.

“Steve’s gonna make sure you have a key to the house. You’re welcome anytime,” Eddie continued. “And we could definitely use some help fixing up some things if you’re willing to.”

“Always here to help ya, son. You know movin’ away won’t get rid of me.”

Eddie bit back a complicated set of emotions, most of which would result in tears, possibly for both of them.

“We’ll visit you here, too.”

“Well…’bout that.” Wayne walked over to the high chair and put a few of the pieces of chicken down. “I been talkin’ to my buddy in Ohio. You remember Benny?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s been thinkin’ about movin’ to Illinois to be closer to his sister’s family. Her husband died last year and she could use the help with her kids, but he didn’t wanna move in with them. He’s lookin’ for someone to share rent with and I kinda offered to go.” Wayne rubbed the back of his head. “Be closer to ya at your new place, too. Figured I can probably get a job anywhere with my mechanic skills.”

“Wayne, that’s great. Seriously, can’t believe you’re gonna leave this place!” Eddie got more excited the more he realized this was all working out perfectly.

“Yeah, well. Don’t think this town’s got much more for me in it if you two ain’t here.”

“I’ll drink to that. We are the best parts of this place.”

*******

Two weeks flew by, but the paperwork wasn’t quite finished when they’d hoped.

“It’s normal for delays to happen,” Steve reminded Eddie over the phone when he was starting to worry that something would fall through.

“I just don’t want there to be any problems. Like, what if the bank decides they don’t wanna provide a loan to us? What if they figure out we’re romantically involved and decide they don’t wanna do business with us?”

“Baby, that’s not gonna happen at this point. It’s our house, okay? We just have to be patient.”

*******

Another week passed, and Eddie was starting to worry that the house would never be theirs.

Steve reassured him it was fine, that he’d been in contact with everyone nearly every day and everyone remained positive that this would be closed soon.

Eddie was on edge at work, on edge at home, on edge when he visited with the Hendersons.

He knew it, wanted to be able to brush it off, but couldn’t. The stress was eating away at him until he was barely sleeping.

But finally, on day 26, Steve called him at work.

“Baby.” He could hear the tears in Steve’s voice, instantly making him choke up. “It’s done. You just have to come sign everything.”

“It’s done?” Eddie turned away from the secretary at the desk for even the smallest amount of privacy. “It’s ours?”

“It is.”

Eddie turned and yelled to the entire lobby: “I’m a homeowner!”

He could hear Steve laughing on the other end, giddy with the news.

“Shit, we’re homeowners. Please tell me you know how to clean gutters,” Eddie said into the phone.

“I can figure it out,” Steve snorted. “You think you can come up tomorrow to sign everything?”

“Wayne works tomorrow so he wouldn’t be able to watch Mia,” Eddie groaned.

“Bring Mia. We can do this as a family,” Steve said.

“She might get fussy if she gets bored,” Eddie said. She’d been itching to try to walk for the last week or so, and any time anyone held her for longer than a couple minutes, she would whine and push away from them. “And I don’t think they’d be cool with her crawling around their office and getting into things.”

“We can take turns handling it. That’s why we have each other, baby. I’m here for both of you now.”

“I-“ Eddie was doing his best not to cry in the lobby of his workplace. “I know, Stevie. I can be there tomorrow. We can be there tomorrow.”

“If you can get here before lunch, maybe I can take you both over to see Maryann and Charlie. They’d love to see you again.”

“Oh, I know. They call once a week asking for updates from me because they don’t trust you to tell him if anything bad happens.” Eddie looked over his shoulder at the shop, sighing. “I gotta get back to work. Two cars just pulled in and we’re already running on one less employee this week. I’ll call you tonight to let you know when to expect us tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, love. Love you.”

“Love you.”

He hung up the phone and went back to work.

Tomorrow, he’d officially own a home with Steve.

Tomorrow, he’d get to start living a future he’d only ever dreamed of having.

Tomorrow, he’d make another step in making sure Mia had a family to love her and care for her.

Tomorrow, he’d get to leave the home he never thought he would.

Tomorrow was a fresh start and tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ao3 fic #chaptered fic #mechanic eddie munson #single parent eddie munson #robin buckley #wayne munson #such a sappy ending #the epilogue will probably be a whole lot of fuckin #if im being realistic

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lavenderstobins · 3 months

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The Complete Guide to Josieverse, AKA Single Parent Robin AU

(art by myself, @lazylittledragon and @sweepy-stringbean!)

What is Josieverse?

Josieverse is an alternate universe where Robin Buckley is a single parent to a daughter. She raises her with Steve and Eddie’s help initially, and then the help of the rest of the group once they move back to Hawkins.

Robin has a little girl named Josephine “Josie” Buckley, born April 28th 1989 while Robin is in her second year of college. They live with Steve and Eddie, who accompanied Robin to California, at first in an apartment, then later in a house they buy in Hawkins.

When Josie's six and a half years old, Nancy returns to Hawkins and learns about her existence, starting a ronance slowburn with mutual pining from both Nancy and Robin.

All in all, it's a universe centred on everyone healing post-canon, and one little girl being raised by an entire group of people who love her

When is it set?

The fic universe overall spans the events prior to her birth and as far as I’m concerned covers her entire life. I’ve pictured her marriage and her children and how Robin would be as a grandparent. I haven’t got much addressed pre-Robin going to college, but I’m pretty much picking and choosing from my various other fics and canon.

The ronance arc starts in 1995. In my head the universe is split into segments: Pre-Josie / The Pregnancy Saga / The Early Years / Settling Into Hawkins / Nancy’s Return / The Rest of Childhood / The Teen Years / Leaving the Nest / Josie’s Adulthood / Ronance Retirement

Can I read it?

Sure, kind of. I post fics for the universe as I finish them, so there are currently a lot of unfinished ones in my drafts. My fics can be found on my AO3. I also post about the universe here, on my twitter, and on my ko-fi.

Fic List

I’ll update this post whenever I post a new one, but here’s the series masterlist if you want to keep up (rearranged into timeline order, below fics are ordered chronologically by date posted).

bright as the morning sun — A slice-of-life oneshot revolving around Robin, Steve and Josie.

here's to my future (here's to my yesterday) — The party learn that Robin's pregnant.

all for freedom and for pleasure — Eddie discovers that Josie has learnt how to blackmail people.

tomorrow's coming at the speed of light — The day Josie's born.

what you fear the most — Steve comes home to find Robin and Josie stuck in the garden.

somebody that you used to know — A slice-of-life oneshot about Robin and Val, before.

FAQs

A separate post containing more information about the universe can be found [here].

AUs

Josieverse has a couple of alternate universes that I talk about occasionally. They are:

Jiffverse / Rockstar AU — AKA the Tiktok AU. Series timeline slightly altered so that Robin and Steve are in their late thirties during present day. Steve adopts his half-sister Elizabeth (Biff). Robin gets pregnant with Josie in college still, but this time they coparent them together. Set in @pukner's Rockstar Eddie universe but slightly to the left.

Fantasy AU — Little fantasy universe I've toyed with. Robin is the reigning queen of her kingdom, Josie is her heir, Nancy is her sworn protector.

Evil Josieverse — Josieverse, except Robin dies during the bubblescoops arc when Josie's four.

#josieverse #lavenderstobins josieverse #josie buckley #stranger things #stranger things au #single parent robin au #robin buckley #ronance #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #stobin #edobin #my aus #josieverse lore #long post #st fic #my fics #masterpost

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ultimate-shipper-trash-blog · 13 days

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Y'all I love the idea of the steddie parent teacher aus like I live for it. The idea that Eddie's kid is a carbon copy? Spectacular. The idea that he has a daughter who's a mean girl who's like head cheerleader hottest girl in school lip gloss flowy hair etc.? Give me 100.

Imagine the parent teacher conference where teacher Steve is like "we have concerns your daughter is a bully."

And single parent Eddie's like "oh like you were to me?"

And then they look over the complaints and figure out she's not a mean girl she just took Eddie's advice about standing up for the little person very seriously and all the complaints were from asshole bullies.

Steve, mortified at not doing the research beforehand, apologies to Eddie and gives him the "I guess people shouldn't always judge what's on the outside vs. the inside talk.

Eddie smirks at him and agrees about people changing and they decide to get a coffee to catch up.

A week later and Steve is drinking coffee in Eddie's kitchen after spending the night. They're already in love beyond belief. Eddie's daughter comes down the stairs in no makeup, a ratty black sabbath shirt, and some plaid pajama pants. She looks nothing like the pristine girl he sees at school and he can't stop laughing because she really is a carbon copy of her dad he just couldn't see it before.

#steddie #strangerthings #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #kid fic #ficlet #teacher steve harrington #single parent eddie munson #steddie modern au #au idea #stranger things #domestic steddie #steddie ficlet

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karizard-ao3 · 11 days

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I've been trying to not ask this but can we get a sneek peek at next chapter 👀

I am dying over here lol

Sure! Here's a sneak peek from the main chapter:

Here's a sneak peek from the smut chapter:

Enjoy!

#ask me things #my asks #answered asks #eren jaeger #eremika #mikasa ackerman #eremika fanfic #wip #my fics #single parents au #bless this mess and other knickknack slogans that mean you're home #bless this mess

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pacinglikeghosts · 3 months

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kat's au moodboard - single dad!carmy au

howdy hi! my best friend/lovely beta (make-easter-gay-again on ao3) and i have been working on this au since i forced him to watch the bear, and with s3 coming out on thursday, we wanted to share a little something! we're still working on it, but we have a good bit written and want y'all to have a little taste.

here is 1000 or so words from the prologue, just to get you warmed up!

preview under the cut :D

Carmen Berzatto has never felt more like an Italian stereotype. Considering he’s a loud, aggressive chef with a huge, interweaving web of a family and an almost sensual relationship with fine wines and cheeses, that’s a high bar to cross, but he manages somehow when he finds himself on Nat’s doorstep, barely 26, desperately trying to keep the baby balanced on his chest asleep. It’s a sticky, cloudy summer evening in Chicago, the kind that would make any midwestern kid nostalgic, but Carmy has been shuffling between trains—the subway, the L, and the Amtrak that he’d booked with the money he meant to save for next month’s rent—since six p.m. yesterday without a wink of sleep. He wouldn’t notice a tornado ripping through downtown unless it delayed his arrival.

For the past 36 hours, every minute has been dedicated to making it through the next and getting to his sister.

And to her credit, when she opens the door, Natalie reacts to the situation about as well as he could expect.

“What the fuck?”

“Hello to you too, Sug,” he greets, attempting to adjust the baby on his chest without waking it.

“What the fuck, Carmen?” she repeats, her eyes bulging so wide she’s teetering on the edge of looking insane. And, Carmy loves his sister. More than anything. But she looks like shit, the indigo circles under her eyes deep enough to look like bruises and a stained sweatshirt thrown haphazardly over pajamas. He knew vaguely that things hadn’t been easy for Sugar since Mikey’s death—managing The Beef’s finances, having a kid, raising said kid into what appeared to be a holy terror of a toddler—but he wasn’t expecting to return home and find his sister in such a state. Granted, he’s sure he doesn’t look much better. “You don’t come home for Mikey’s funeral, don’t talk to me for months, and then show up with a fucking baby? How did you even get that baby?”

“It’s a little hard to explain,” he says. She leans into her hip, no shit written all over her face.

Despite being maybe the worst little brother in history, the only thing that made him hesitate in coming to Nat for help wasn’t any of their family’s issues. Not even his impressive stubbornness was enough to convince him that he could handle an infant in a sub-200 square foot apartment in New York City alone. But she has a life of her own, and a family of her own. He knows his baggage is truly the last thing that Nat needs right now, but he needs her—desperately. Of anyone in the world, the only person he knows he can rely on in this nightmare he can’t wake up from is his sister.

Natalie, thankfully, senses the panic and distress that lingers on her brother’s face, and ushers him inside. “We were just about to eat dinner,” she explains, attempting to push toys and piles of laundry out of the way with her feet as if welcoming the mayor of Chicago into her house, not her idiot younger brother. “If you’re hungry.”

“Uh, coffee would be good,” Carmy concludes, staring at a framed family photo in the hallway. “Maybe, uh, a place to, uh…” He shrugs his shoulders to indicate the baby, and she nods curtly, her eyes flitting around.

“I’ll have Pete get some of Gabby’s stuff from the attic,” she says, sharply turning on her heel and walking towards the kitchen. Carmy follows, watching as his sister effortlessly scoops the toddler up and carries her with them, ignoring a prolonged squeal of protest and flailing arms and legs. “Pete! Grab an extra plate, will you?”

“Yeah, sure thing, honey…who was—Carm!” Pete greets, coming around the corner with a plate and silverware in hand. He glances for a second at the baby, tries to school his obvious double take, and squeaks out, “What’re you doing here, man? What’s up?”

Carmy takes a moment to figure out the best way to answer that question. This baby is apparently mine, but I have no recollection of having sex with anyone who could be its mother, and I can’t raise it on my own, and you guys are my only family? I decided to come back and take over The Beef, and oh–by the way–I have a kid now, apparently? I’m just visiting? “I–uh…” he says instead, shifting his focus to Natalie, who seems as though she was one wrong choice on Carmy’s part from throttling him in her kitchen.

“Pete, can you go up to the attic and grab some of Gabby’s old stuff? I think we put the crib and shit up there,” she instructs, with a look that clearly reads we will talk about this later.

He catches Natalie glancing at him every so often, in between fussing over her daughter and plating up the food. Sitting quietly at the dinner table, waiting for the rest of the family, he feels like a kid, like he’s gotten himself into something way over his head.

Carmy had only eaten a few things on the train, mainly sugary snacks to keep him going when even his anxiety succumbed to his exhaustion, so the beef stew Natalie offers him tastes better than any Michelin-awarded meal he’s ever had. He devours two bowls, barely stopping to look up at the other three people (two people? Two adults and a toddler smushing mac and cheese around her high chair?) sitting around the table.

After dinner, Natalie and Pete retreat upstairs to get Gabby to bed, and Carmy feeds the baby, unpacking his CVS bag of baby essentials: the diapers, formula, and pack of three bottles he thought to buy before he skipped town. Then, the three adults settle into the living room, a cup of tea in Natalie’s hand and a second (or possibly third, he’s lost count) cup of coffee in Carmy’s.

“Yeah, so, walk me through this, Bear. You’re a father now?” Nat asks, tucking her legs underneath her. “Did you pay attention in sex ed, like, at all?”

Carmy uses his free hand to rake through his hair. He needs a shower, desperately, but between his newfound fatherhood and hauling ass to Chicago he hasn’t had time to breathe, much less consider hygiene. Maybe that’ll be added to the list to do tomorrow, nestled between find an apartment and learn how to be a better parent than his own in 24 hours–no therapy. “Yes, Sugar, I paid attention,” he replies, eliciting a scoff from his sister. “I…fuck, I don’t really know how it happened. I-I was at work, and my phone kept blowing up like when Mikey died, but no one was fucking dead, it was just some unknown number telling me to get to this hospital in Queens because my baby was there, and I kept telling them I think they have the wrong number, but they said the mother said the father’s name was Carmen Berzatto, and she left as soon as she could. I didn’t even get the name of who it was…just signed the birth certificate and left.”

“What’s their name, then? If you signed the certificate, you had to give them a name,” Natalie asks, slowly trying to piece together if he was plain stupid or genuinely a saint.

“Uh…her name’s Brie,” he mumbles, the full force of his actions over the past two days coming to a head. The name takes a moment to come to mind, both because of the exhaustion and because he hardly thought about the name since he wrote it down. He’s been calling it—or her, really—the baby or the kid in his head all this time.

She blinks. “Brie?” she repeats, before groaning. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmen. You would legally marry cooking if you could.”

“I wasn’t thinking, Natalie! I got the call, and I needed to pick a name, and I was in the middle of making a brie appetizer, and I couldn’t fucking name her Blackberry or some bullshit like that! At least Brie sounds like a name!”

Natalie stares at him before setting down her tea. “As soon as her classmates find out her dad’s a chef and she’s named after cheese, she’s going to be bullied. Do you want that?” He doesn’t, he knows how shitty kids could be, especially about a kid with anything that was seemingly different about them. “Look…I’ll get some of the books Pete and I used for Gabs. Pick a new name.”

#theres so much more where this came from #we both have such a soft spot for single parent aus #also syd isnt here yet but her arc is soooo #nat does get less bitchy but like do you blame her #shes done nothing wrong ever esp with this #melodicchaos fics #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear #sydney adamu #syd adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney x carmy #syd x carmy #fic: i could never give you peace

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f1-disaster-bi · 4 months

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Have you got any Dando ideas? Kisses All Over 🩵

Oooo this is giving me an idea for Single Parent au

Lando could hear his daughter creeping down the hallway from her room to theirs. Her little feet made soft noises against the wooden floor as Lando cracked open his eyes to check the clock facing him.

Daniel was still fast asleep beside him. His face buried halfway into his pillow. His curls were messed, and soft snores escaped him as he slept on. He was on his stomach, one hand tucked under a pillow and the other had been curled over Lando’s hip until he had turned to look at his fiancé.

Lando contemplated waking him as he reached out to brush his fingers over the messy curls, but he resisted as he heard Eloise giggle outside the door.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then a little head peaked after it was opened a crack.

Lando put his finger finger to his lips, shushing her giggles silently as Eloise nodded. He watched fondly as she tiptoed across the room until she reached him, climbing up into his lap and Lando helped her.

Eloise didn't say anything for a moment. She simply snuggled into Lando's arms, yawning as quietly as she could as Lando rubbed her back. Just like Lando, Eloise wasn't much of a morning person as she slumped against him with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

Lando couldn't resist brushing her own set of messy curls from her face to kiss her forehead, and for a moment, it reminded him of when she was a baby. It reminded him of all the nights he rocked her in his arms and pressed gentle kisses to her little face to get her to sleep or calm down.

He loved watching her grow, but sometimes he missed when she was so small he could carry her carefully in his arms.

"Can we wake Dan?", Eloise whispered, still a little to loudly but she was getting better at it.

Lando looked over at Daniel and had to hide his grin because Daniel was very much awake. His fiancé was trying to pretend at sleep. His snores a little too exaggerated. His grin a little too aware to be asleep but Lando played along.

"How should we wake him, sweetpea?", Lando whispered as he tapped a finger against his chin before grinning, "Should we tickle him? Or should we give him a lot of kisses?"

"Both!", Eloise giggled excitedly, "I wanna tickle"

Lando just nodded, letting her crawl out of his lap as Daniel pretended to roll over in his sleep. He let out a big, loud, fake snore to sell it that had Eloise giggling, and Lando had to bite his cheek to stop himself running it as she moved into position.

Lando shifted around too, making sure he could place a few kisses across Daniel's forehead and cheeks before Eloise started to tickle his ribs. Daniel pretended to wake up slowly, making soft noises before his nose scrunched up and his eyes shot open as Eloise burst into laughter at the exaggerated look on Daniel’s face.

"Are you tickling me?", Daniel gasped, hand on his chest, and Lando couldn't help but burry his laughter in Daniel's shoulder, placing soft kisses across the tan skin before he was being shoved away gently, "Oh I'm going to get you!"

Eloise’s laughter filled the room as she tried to scramble away but Daniel stopped her. His hands going to her sides and tickling her as she squirmed in his lap until her cheeks were pink.

"Papa, stop! It tickles", Eloise gasped out, and Daniel froze in shock because Eloise had never called him that before.

His brown eyes were swirling with emotions as he blinked down at Eloise who was still laughing, and when he looked at Lando, Lando had to wrap his arms around him because he knew Daniel had wanted this. He'd have never asked for it, for Eloise to call him Dad in any form, but he had wanted it.

"Are you okay, Papa?", Eloise asked after a moment as she placed a little hand on Daniel's cheek.

Lando pressed a reasuring kiss to Daniel's shoulder.

"Yeah, monkey", Daniel managed to choke out, "Papa’s never been happier"

#single parent au #single dad au #eloise #dando #daniel/lando #lando/daniel #fic prompt #prompt

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hoohoobeanie · 7 months

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give me a minute to process how adorable these pictures are

#parents spommy fic anyone?#or single dad fic? ... thoughttts #anyway look at the difference in hand size #ill go insane #his smile #tommy bowe i love u #smosh #tommy

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probssomethingorother · 5 months

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Next of Kin: A TLOU fanfic

This is really long and hopefully kinda sad. Don't look too close cause I got tired of editing and didn't get a beta.

Pre-Tlou, Sarah's birth story, big sad, canon compliant-ish

Sarah, Joel, Claire (OC)

Rating: Teen

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?” He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove. In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes. He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child. ------- The day Joel becomes a dad and how he deals. Slight canon divergence where his wife dies instead of leaving.

ONE SHOT - Words: 15,929

Live laugh love, comment subscribe reblog - that's how it goes right??

Read on AO3 here or down below ⤵️

He becomes a dad on one of the worst days of his life.

July 20, 1989.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a slow morning until it isn’t.

Soft light pours into their tiny bedroom through sheer polyester pom-pom studded blue curtains, relentlessly shining onto his face until finally, Joel cracks open his eyes. He inhales deeply, sucking in air against his pillow as he withdraws his arms from underneath and stretches until he takes up the entirety of the bed. It’s just a full - it’s not hard to fill the space, but usually, there is someone else keeping both his arms from hitting the sides.

Claire.

Head popping up as he blinks away the fuzziness of sleep, he catches the time on their bedside clock, and then promptly flops back down.

8:47 AM, Thursday - class.

She is halfway through some advanced design course right now, stuck in an architecture studio with a bunch of kids who don’t know how to hold a hammer.

“You’re voluntarily going to summer school?” he had teased, a mock frown puckering his forehead.

“You’re not going to be able to build ‘em, if I can’t design ‘em, buddy,” she shot back with a grin.

They don’t have many concrete plans, but they do have a little dream to start up their own building company - her designs with his construction, in-house everything from start to finish.

Several months ago, it looked like that dream was gone. He came home to her sobbing on the floor of his bathroom, clutching three positive pregnancy tests, blubbering about how it wasn’t supposed to happen, how her parents would be so upset, how her life was over, and how she didn’t think she could be a mom.

After the shock abated—the overwhelming drumming in his ears subsiding to a disconcerting tapping and his heart slowing to a crawl—he descended to the bathroom floor to be beside her. With a deep breath, he slid down the putrid yellow wall, intertwined his hand in hers, and exhaled every ounce of air in his lungs. Then, with a sweet peck to the top of her hand, breathlessly he told her, “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout kids….but I do know… if one’s gettin’ you for a mom - they’re goin’ to be pretty amazin’.”

Much to his chagrin, his words only brought on a fresh wave of tears and sobs. He didn’t know what part of what he just said was wrong, but he couldn’t handle seeing her cry. As he frantically scurried on the tile floor to sit in front of her, he missed the subtle shift in the way her shoulders shook, angst turning to something lighter.

Tenderly, he nestled her head in his hands, and hastily sputtered:

“No no no, please don’t - I didn’t mean - we can do this is all. Ain’t the end of the world. You’ll be a good mom - and I think maybe... I’ll be a good dad - teach him all sorts of stuff about buildin’, and football, and my abuela’s tamales...And he’ll... and I know we don’t got much right now, but that’s just right now - we can have ‘em -“

And then Claire let out a snot-soaked chuckle, mouth twitching up at the sides as she wiped her wet face against his arm, leaving a shiny residue.

“Him? What makes you so sure were havin’ a boy?”

With a sigh of relief, he sat back as her tears came to a trickle; and with a curt nod and a smile, he dropped his hands away from her face.

“Well yeah,” he drawled, “Miller’s only have boys - me, Tommy, all the primos- not a girl in the bunch.”

Two days later Claire met with her counselor, rearranged her course schedule, and made a plan to enroll in the summer semester, freeing up her fall for the arrival of the baby. At the start of term, she crossed her fingers and prayed to God that the little nugget would stay inside long enough for her to make it through to finals.

It’s her last week. So far the plan has worked.

Normally, he’s navigating the morning rush to drop her off at UT Austin before he heads to the relentless buzz of the construction site, but this morning he’s on the late crew. He has nowhere to be til noon, and the extra hours of sleep are nice, but he also would rather be working.

He had asked for more shifts to make extra money before the baby comes, but Asshole Andy didn’t take too kindly to the request and did the exact opposite - slashed his hours by six each week, snarkily advising him he could “probably use more time at home prepping from the arrival of the rugrat.”

He had brooded over the whole ordeal for a couple of weeks, but now it irks him less, especially since Claire has given him a laundry list of things to complete before the little man comes home - assembling the crib, buying a bottle warmer, installing his car seat, cleaning the kitchen, and the bathroom, and the floors, and the couch, and pretty much every surface in their dinky 700 square foot apartment.

The list starts its relentless nag on his mind right as the last dredges of sleep scurry away, and the morning light, now too bright for any more excuses, floods their matchbox of a bedroom. It leaves Joel with no choice but to begrudgingly abandon the comforts of their bed, and rolling to its edge, with a small groan he begins his day.

Shuffling out of their room, his feet catch and peel away from the warped parquet floor with a faint, sticky noise that echoes in the quiet morning. It's one of the many quirks of their aging apartment that they've come to accept- its "charm," as Claire loves to say. Their living space is a hodgepodge of second-hand furniture, DIY fixes, and cheap decor. They have tried to make it look better, but even with all of Claire’s design knowledge only so much can be done to distract from the place's age and size.

He flicks on the TV - an old set, the screen slightly too blue- and flips to Sport’s Center to catch the Astros’ game highlights.

Taking a few moments to himself, he plops down at the tiny table wedged in the corner of their kitchenette with a hefty bowl of frosted flakes before the day's duties demand his attention.

His spoon pauses mid-air, startled, as the front door swings open and bounces against the wall. He’s halfway through breakfast, but wasn’t keeping track of the time.

Claire comes barreling through, her presence like a sudden storm, backpack haphazardly dropping with a thud as she crosses the threshold. She’s always been a bit of a tornado, bouncy brown curls trailing her like a dust cloud as she whips up small messes in her wake.

“Need to pee!” She announces as she hurries past Joel, her movement more of a rapid wattle, one hand cradling her swollen belly. She’s three weeks out from her due date and feeling and looking like “Veruca J, Veruca!” - as she likes to lament to him at least once a week.

Despite the urgency, she tosses him a small smile as she slips inside the bathroom and shuts the door. With a small smile of his own, he gives his head a little shake and returns to his cereal.

“You eat?” He calls with a full mouth, attention on the screen in the far opposite corner, a little too enthralled watching the Astros get smashed by the Mets. The question is thrown casually over his shoulder, a formality really because he knows the answer. She never eats before class, opting to take the extra few minutes of sleep over fixing up something, but still, he has to go through the routine: he asks, she grumbles, he says the baby needs food, and then there is a slight pause before she crosses her arms and says he’s right.

But when its usual pattern unfolds with no reply, he lobs another question towards the bathroom, “Wan’me to pour you a bowl of this?”

And that’s when everything speeds up.

She emerges from the bathroom with stark panic etched across her face, its complexion losing color by the second. Her deep brown eyes, wide and unblinking, lock onto Joel's like a silent scream.

Her shorts are off, her underwear is red, and blood spreads down the tops of her inner thighs.

He’s on his feet in a fraction of a second. As he darts up, the table jostles violently, sending his breakfast airborne in a chaotic slew of cereal and milk, and the bowl slips off, splintering against the tile of the kitchen floor. The high-pitched clatter of it all is nothing compared to the sudden ringing now filling his head.

Tears begin to pucker her waterline as he rushes to Claire, his footsteps quick, his hands hovering before they gently, firmly, grasp her shoulders.

A thousand words are interchanged between them, but none break from either of their lips.

With a shared nod, they split—Joel to the chaos of their bedroom for clothes, Claire to the phone.

“Mom?… Momma? Can you n’Pop meet us at the hospital?” Her voice is shallow and cracky, but Joel can hear it as clear as day as he rushes to throw on a t-shirt and wriggle into a pair of jeans.

“No St. David’s ..” she chokes out, as he stumbles over his own feet as they enter his pant legs, leaving him to careen into the closet door. As he pops back up, he catches her trembling voice ending the call: “Okay, love you, see you soon.”

The phone crashes to the laminate countertop with a sharp clatter, clearly not rehooked, as he snatches his wallet from the dresser and scrambles to find his keys.

If he wasn’t fighting to suppress the panic quickly growing inside him, frustration over the search for the pesky things would have been all-consuming. He rummaged through three pairs of pants, and checked under the bed, in the couch cushion, in the kitchen, the bathroom, and pretty much every other inch of their apartment, before finally lifting Claire’s backpack strewn in the entry to see the car keys discarded beneath.

Within seconds of his eyes landing on them, they are out the door, and the worst and best day of Joel’s life begins.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“Joel?”

“Right here, baby, right here.”

“I - I- please, don’t let - we need to - now-”

“I know, I gotcha.”

Her fragmented pleas, broken by sharp intakes of breath and muffled by cascades of tears, repeat incessantly in his head—louder and more urgent with each echo. Joel can’t get it to stop - much like his leg moving in an equally incessant rhythm, bouncing up and down as he sits in the rigid chair. The compulsive movement is matched by his hand - right anxiously twisting his watch band back and forth, rubbing it deeper and deeper into the rawing skin of his left.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Just focus on breathe’n now, we’ll be there soon, alright?”

Dried remnants of it cling stubbornly to the crevices of his knuckles and dirty the spaces in between his fingers, staining them a brownish crimson. He could clean it off, but it’s a piece of her - and if he can’t see her, at least he can still look at this bit, no matter how gruesome.

Almost an hour has passed since he’s last seen her.

By the time they reached the ER, she was too dizzy to walk. She’s not much smaller than him, but Joel had scooped her up with urgency anyway and charged through the sliding doors. The muted blue walls of the hospital corridor blurred in his periphery as he zeroed in on the signs leading them there. As he burst through the doors, they rebounded off the walls with a loud slap, and the collective gaze of the waiting room pivoted toward them.

His arms burned from her weight, but he dug his grip in more, fingertips pushing into her thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Something’s wrong with her," he blurted out to the quiet room, his blown-wide eyes locking onto the woman’s at the admittance desk.

It took no time for the nurses to descend on them, ushering Joel out of the waiting room and back toward a bed he could finally let her down on.

Claire was barely coherent, face ashy, breathing labored.

“What’s her name, son?” A sweet older woman with box-dyed red hair asked, gently moving him aside to better attend to Claire.

“Claire,” She took his name officially a few months back, but he’s known her longer as - “Claire Johnson,” - it just flows right.

“Okay Claire, we’re going to take good care of you. How many weeks are you, hun?”

When her head lolled to the side, lips moving but no words coming out, he felt like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs while simultaneously filling his head with cement.

He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. His eyes bounced from her to the monitors, from the nurses to doctors, from the needle being pushed into her arm to the cross on the wall, from the strap being secured around her belly to her beautiful curls getting crunched beneath the oxygen mask, and then finally, to a calendar hanging crookedly above the corner sink -

His gaze had lingered there for a long moment.

Claire had put a magnet on the fridge to track the weeks, a little pink and blue calendar. He thought watching the time tick by was a little silly at first, but this week, when she flipped it to “3 weeks from baby!” he got a little flutter of something in his chest.

“37,” he muttered, brain distantly doing the mental math as a nurse dispensed a healthy glob of ultrasound jelly onto Claire, bottle squelching with the brute force of the squeeze.

Only 37 seconds later, a decision was made: she needed surgery immediately. Her bed rails snapped up, she was disconnected from the machines that beeped and blinked with a detached urgency, and wheeled away swiftly. Someone tried to explain something about the placenta and an “abruption” and that she was losing more blood than her body could handle, but all Joel could focus on was keeping pace with the gurney so her hand wouldn’t slip from his.

But eventually, it did - had to.

She was pushed behind a set of doors he was not allowed to go, held back by a physician’s firm hand. “Take a seat, someone will come talk to you,” they said.

That was 37 minutes ago, and nobody has come to talk to him.

The flickering of the fluorescent light overhead is now the only thing keeping him sane. It mixes with some sun strips crossing the blue tile floor, and when everything hits right, it looks like beams of light dancing at the bottom of a swimming pool. He finds himself fixating on it, forcing himself to take a breath every time a glowy strip appears. Everything else around him just fades into the background, the ring of the hustle and bustle of the hospital becoming muted as if caught beneath the waterline.

Claire once told him blue is used to evoke calm, but surrounded by the hospital’s blue walls and blue floors, it only makes him feel more and more like he’s drowning underwater.

Claire loves the water.

She’s lived in a landlocked city her entire life, but give the girl a chance and she will talk about the ocean. She’s only been a handful of times to the coast- just Padre Island, yet, you would think she’s dipped her toe in each of the seven seas. Sand and sunshine, blue skies and blue sea - she could never get enough.

They had almost escaped there for the Fourth.

“Come on, J, one last hurrah,” she had pleaded, her eyes alight with the prospect, her voice threaded with excitement as she bounced around their small living room. “It’s called a babymoon - everyone’s doing it now,” she had tried to explain, doing her best to convince him to sit in the sand and watch fireworks explode in dazzling arrays over the Gulf.

But he had to say no. There was no time, no money, and his old car, which creaked and groaned even on short drives, would probably not survive a four-hour trek in the boiling Texas heat.

It’s a little silly - especially now - but all he can think about is her and him, and how they really should have just taken the goddam trip.

*** ʚїɞ ***

There is little to say to her parents when they arrive and find him waiting, his hands slick with sweat as they approach. He gulps hard and clears his throat, scrambling for words that refuse to form. But before he can try to speak, Mrs. Johnson pulls him in for a hug.

Her hand gently brushes the back of his head, and the precipice of any words dissolves into a shaky exhale into the crook of her neck. She smells like a blend of lavender and vanilla—just like his mom used to. When she breathes, "Oh honey," her voice cracks with maternal warmth, and for a moment, Claire’s mom is his mom, and he doesn’t want to let go. Arms, heavy and trembling, slowly rise around her, his body deflates, and for a flash of a second, he doesn’t feel like he’s stuck underwater.

But he only gets in one breath before he slips back under.

Claire’s father, a big burly man - an old-fashioned Texas rancher- interrupts the moment, hand going firmly to his wife’s shoulder. He tugs her back, guiding her to a nearby chair with a look of the eye and a twitch of the head.

Mrs. Johnson’s eyes, already weary and tinted red, spare Joel one final sympathetic look before taking her seat and turning to the ground.

Mr. Johnson takes his wife’s spot, leaning in close. His breath is hot and has the stench of musky cigars as it puffs into his face. “Nurse at the front told us what’s goin’ on,” he gruffs with a dagger-like glare, a look that Joel has only seen once before when he caught them one late night junior year fooling around in the back of his Tio’s truck.

If it hadn’t been for Claire coming between them—literally—Joel’s pretty sure Mr. Johnson would have killed him on the spot.

Unfortunately, he’s lacking her protection now.

On shaky knees, he sinks back down in his seat as Mr. Johnson takes his own next to his wife, who has already brought out her Rosary and begun the Litany.

For a long while, he watches her fingers glide across the beads. Her umber tone makes the milky cream of the tiny glass orbs and the gold-plated cross shine in her grip. Head bowed, her voice is hushed, a whispered prayer—delicate, but intentional.

He’s never taken much to religion, but it was important to his mother, so he never missed a Sunday. It was just a hollow obligation then, but in this moment, he can see why people are drawn to it.

There is a comfort in knowing what to do, what to pray, who to ask for help.

He follows along in his own head, punctuating her efforts with his own hard “Amens”. He pushes his anxiety into each prayer, hoping the Mary up there will take pity on them, see herself in Claire, and protect their son.

They only make it three decades deep.

Perhaps if they had finished it, things would be different.

He barely registers the doctor’s approach. When he slowly looks up, he can’t miss the hollow defeat that hangs heavily in the woman’s eyes as she comes into focus behind the Johnsons.

Time stops.

He goes rigid, fidgety anxiousness leaving his body as dread pushes in.

Seeing the change in Joel's expression, the Johnsons twist to face the doctor, their bodies stiffening as they stand. He tries to rise, but his legs betray him, and he remains half-seated, peering through the narrow gap between their shoulders. The doctor, flanked by the nurse from before with the coppery hair - “Judy” he remembers off a name tag - looks exhausted, face drawn tight, almost like a different person then who she was in the ER.

"I'm sorry," the physician offers, each word measured but heavy, carrying a weight that squeezes out all the little remaining air from the waiting area. "We did everything we could, but..."

The words that follow blend into the sterile air. Something about complications, a clot to the brain, a loss too great, a life gone as a new one gasped its first breath.

His knees buckle and he’s back in the uncomfortable seat once more. His fingers find the sides and wrap around, knuckles going white as he holds onto the plastic like it’s a preserver in rough waters. Every hair on his body stands to attention as a wave of goosebumps runs from his head to his toes. Saliva pools in his mouth and his throat constricts tight and his lungs feel like they are vacuumed sealed shut.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. What they don’t tell you is that it happens just the same when they die.

Claire.

She’s eleven years old, escorted into their church camp room, and placed in a seat next to him. He was dared by Freddy Bower to yank her ponytail so he gave the new girl a gentle tug. In return, she picked her nose and wiped it on his arm. Everyone teased him the rest of summer that she had given him her cooties.

She’s in his homeroom when school starts in the fall and the rivalry is instantaneous, competition whittling down to their days of birth - and of course, she’s three days ahead.

And then she’s thirteen and leaning across the circle, the tip of the soda bottle pointing towards him. Even though she unabashedly wiped him off her lips, he didn’t mind the way her strawberry chapstick lingered on his. He wanted to remember his first kiss with a girl, even if it was with her. At the same party the following year, they are stuffed in a closet for seven minutes in heaven, but they stay several inches apart - “Miller if you think I’m goi-” - “Oh, like I would even want you to.”

And then they are freshmen, and she’s not in any of his classes or clubs and he kind of misses her, but convinces himself it's just the competition that he craves, and has nothing to do with how she’s bubbly, and witty, and pretty, and fun.

And then it’s the summer and they are stuck in the back of a hardware store together, wearing neon green vests, racing to stock shelves, tallying who knows the most paint codes, and the competition is back and now he doesn’t want to let it go. So he doesn’t.

He makes her start to hate him less, and they get paired together in home-ec, and when they both get dragged to church by their parents they go to the pew in the back and fold all the hymnal pages into geometric patterns. They get close enough for his mom to start packing her a tamale in his lunch, teasing “para su amiga,” with a wiggle of her brow, and for Claire’s older brother to start snagging him packs of Marlboro Reds from the corner store on Park before away games, because “since you she fights with our Pops less.”

And even though she laughs in his face when he asks her to Junior year homecoming, it’s official - they are together - and they stay together.

She cries with him when his mom dies and he holds her tight when her brother meets the same fate five months later. She gets accepted to NYU, but decides to stay in Austin for school - “I’m not doing this for you - me and Tommy are buds now, can’t leave him.”

And although she lives in the dorms freshman year and he takes the couch at his Tio’s, they still make it work. When he saves enough to rent a place of his own, one night a week becomes several, and then she’s with him full-time. And she decorates the place with seashells and butterflies and they laugh and dance in the living room, and burn things on the stove, and watch marathons of shitty movies, and flood the bathroom trying to fix the sink. And he pops the question one silly night under the sheets, and puts a peach ring on her finger, and he’s in love, and they are making plans, and having dreams, and having a -

"Hun?" The gentle intrusion startles him as it slices through his life with her. Judy’s auburn hair flashes infront of his eyes before her kind gaze takes its place. He nods mechanically.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” She chirps soft and smooth, as one of her wrinkly hands comes to his elbow while the other wiggles her fingers under his and unlocks his grip from the edge of the seat.

With another shaky nod, he forces himself to his feet, each step hesitant as he follows the Johnsons out of the waiting area.

Only once he’s at their backs do her words hit his brain, but by then he’s not sure he’s hearing anything right - hoping he’s not hearing anything right.

*** ʚїɞ ***

Things go a little hazy for a while, like wandering through a dream that both makes absolute sense and none at all.

Despite being behind the doctor, her parents set the pace- a quick stride, nipping at the physician’s heels, pushing her to lead them down the winding corridor at a speed Joel finds wholly unmanageable. He can’t quite put his finger on the feeling, but his brain is telling him that it’s strange to be rushing - inappropriate- to be speeding this along.

With every five tiles, he falls a step behind, his pace slowing incrementally until the echoes of their footsteps fade and he’s alone with nothing but the empty stretch of corridor to navigate.

Distance.

Minutes ago, he had wanted the space between them to disappear; now, he wishes the hallway would stretch a little longer, the doorway be a bit further - hell, if he could move her room to the other end of the hospital, that would be best.

Space is time, and he needs time before this moment finally catches up with the next. The next that’s tainted by a cruel reality waiting on the other side of that door.

When he finally steps in and sees her, color already gone from her face, he feels small, like a little kid - he is a kid - and she was a kid - and now they have -

He doesn’t remember walking over to the clear plastic bassinet, but then he is there looking down at the thing that took his first love from him.

Her tiny fists wave in the air - clearly a fighter from her first breath- and then her teeny nose wrinkles up as she lets out a piercing cry.

The shriek, is timed perfectly with a deep wail from Claire’s mother.

The sounds are like the gun at the start of a race, his feet moving before he thinks.

He has no control over his body as he rushes back into the hallway, his heart pounding, breaths shallow and quick. His chest feels like it’s on fire as he slides his body down the wall, sinking into the floor, much like he did several months back when Claire broke the news - although this is light years more jarring.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” Plays back in his head like a cruel joke.

It’s a girl.

He should be happy that at least one of them made it out, but all is brain can grab a hold of is the fact that the one that did, is not his girl - not Claire.

The commingled cries leak under the door and waft into the hallway, giving him no reprieve. His hands slide over his ears as he tucks his knees into his chest and digs his forehead into the denim of his jeans.

He thought he knew what grief felt like. When his mom died, years ago now, it was like someone rearranged his insides and forgot to put his heart back into the right place, stuck somewhere near his stomach, perpetually sunk. And back then, he knew it was coming - a monster in the closet that would eventually come so he left the door ajar. He slowly grieved the loss of her for months and months before the cancer finally took her, and it hurt, but not like this.

This was different.

He wasn’t prepared for a monster to come and take everything, and certainly not on today of all days.

He thought they would rush to the hospital and get settled in a room and figured the worst thing that could go wrong was Claire squeezing his hand maybe a bit too hard - maybe even enough to break it, he had heard that could happen - and then after a few grueling hours, they would leave with arms cradling a boy, a strong little fella with Claire's bright eyes and his big’ole nose.

They would go home as three.

He knows there’s two of them now, but he feels like he’s just one.

He can’t do this.

With a clack on the tile, feet halt in front of him. Raising his head slightly off his knees, dark brown cowboy boots come to fill his view as they grind into the ground. With a firm hand - an angry clench that squeezes his bicep- Claire’s father hoists him up roughly, feet slipping on the smooth tile as he’s forced to stand and face him.

His eyes are all fire when they meet Joel’s and his grip intensifies as they bear into him. He’s heard stories about Mr. Johnson’s anger - never would touch a woman, but Claire’s told him about how he wouldn’t hold back on her brother Mike. For a moment, he’s sure he’s about to experience what he can do, but instead, he’s slammed against the wall.

“Stand up. Act like a damn man,” he growls, his voice a strident whisper.

It’s harsh, but expected. Her dad never liked him, thought he was derailing his daughter's future, and that was before getting her pregnant. Five years of pent-up anger and disdain are channeled into the vice grip on his arm. He winces, but he also knows he's fortunate it's only his arm taking the brunt of it.

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?”

He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove.

In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes.

He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child.

His child: Sarah.

That’s the name they had picked after thumbing through a far too large book rented from the college library. Claire had wanted something with meaning, “classic, but strong,” and landed on Alexander and Sarah - a warrior and a princess.

He didn’t think they would be needing the girl's name - “Miller’s make men” he had begun to chime every time Claire’s eyes veered toward something pink or purple for the baby. But perhaps it was mother’s intuition because here she is.

Sarah

She was supposed to be their princess. Now, she’s just his, and that fact weighs his body down like an anchor, planting his feet next to her bassinet, forcing him to stare into her big brown eyes that go as deep as the ocean.

Claire would have loved her baby’s eyes.

A warm hand settles between his shoulder blades, and he pushes his gaze away from her, blinks rapidly to clear away the tears pooling in his waterline, and turns toward the source. A nurse with a yellow scrub cap that matches a tweedy bird pin clipped on her pink scrubs offers him a quaint but sullen smile and drops her hand away.

“You picked a name out for her yet, sugar?” She asks bending over the bassinet clipped to retrieve the name placard at the top of the small crib.

The powder pink card boasts “It’s a Girl!” in a cursive font with flowers and a cheery teddy bear with a bow. Beneath it, are all the important things, like “Mother: Johnson”, “Weight: 6lb 1oz,” “Length: 17 ⅛. In.” and “Time: 10:27am.”

The spot for the name is glaringly empty.

Joel nods with a sniffle.

“And what’s the winner then?” The clipboard in her grip swings around to her front, and she balances it in a crevice of her stomach as she uncaps a black felt tip marker with her teeth.

Mouth dry, he swallows hard. The last time his throat pushed out words was when he whispered “you’ll be okay” into Claire’s ear as she was pushed away from him through those doors off the ER bay. He hates that his last words to her were a lie, but that’s neither here nor there now.

“Sarah,” he says slowly, listening how it floats through the air.

“Middle?”

He knows what Claire wanted - what they had planned - but his eyes flick across the room and find her blanched face obscured by a tube and surrounded by monitors, and he just can’t go with it.

“I think it should-,” he pauses, pondering it again for a fraction of a second, “-Claire.” He nods, “Sarah. Claire. Miller.”

He hopes she doesn’t mind.

*** ʚїɞ ***

The hours begin to bleed together.

The mechanical whispers of the hospital - the soft beeps, the muted shuffles of footsteps, the low voices of doctors, and nurses, and administrators weaving in and out the dimly lit room - it all becomes one giant mush after a while.

Someone had offered to wheel Sarah away, and put her in the nursery with all the other newborns - “are you sure? fathers ain’t normally the ones watchin’ them like this” - but despite being utterly terrified, he shook his head at the offer. He planted himself in the corner of the room on a small maroon plastic couch, rolled her bassinet firmly in front of him, and kept her small form at his eye level.

People come in to evaluate Claire, but when nobody veers toward their own little space to check on them, he wonders if it’s the wrong decision. She seems perfectly fine, but his leg bounces nervously with the possibility that she isn’t - silently slipping away because he doesn’t know anything about babies.

His gaze rarely leaves her even as conversations swell around them, constant low-murmured discussions about what comes next.

They frame their words carefully, tiptoeing around the inevitable, trying to present things as if there are options to be made, but there aren’t options - there is just one option :

When to let her go.

She’s already gone in all the ways that matter. Her body is there, but her brain is not. She’s never going to wake up. She’s not going to go home and dance in their apartment, or wiggle her toes in the sand, or blow bubbles in her drink, or call him “Joel Michael Miller” when he tickles her too much.

And she is not going to hold her baby, or hear her giggle, or see her take her first steps cause Claire is not going to be stepping out of this hospital.

He knows it, but the Johnsons haven’t quite gotten there yet. So he just watches from the corner of the room as her parents ask all the same questions over and over again, yet hope for different answers.

Earlier, someone had tried to explain what happened was rare. That when the placenta detached her body kicked into overdrive, blood clotting excessively. As little Sarah was being pulled into the land of the living, Claire slipped the opposite way, a clot traveling up to her brain and cutting off blood supply for too long.

A one in a million chance.

“Exceedingly rare,” they had said repeatedly, and, “no way to know this would happen,” as though those two things could somehow soften the blow.

Soft enough to knead it into something it isn’t.

For her parents, “rare” became synonymous with special, and “no way to know” mutated into defying the odds, and both together turned into a false hope of an impossible reality.

“She just need’s some time - we’ll wait- our Claire - she’s a strong one - patience is a virtue.” her mother told the room, aiming the words at nobody in particular.

And waiting is what they have been doing. They hover by her bedside, chairs drawn close, bodies hunched over and slipping out, practically on their knees as they tightly grasp Claire’s hands and pray.

Their words to God fill the space between beeps and breaths, and he doesn’t really believe in Him like how they do, but part of him also want’s to get down on his knees and ask Him why.

When the hours tick by, they start to beg for a miracle.

And Joel doesn’t believe in that sort of stuff either, but the longer he spends with Sarah the more he thinks that God has already delivered. He could have taken them both, but he left one behind.

Wrapped snuggly in a hospital blanket, she stirs slightly, her tiny hands balling into fists against the underside of the blue and pink striped fabric. He holds his breath until she settles.

He’s been doing that a lot.

The door groans softly on its hinges, inching open just wide enough for someone to slide through. The Johnsons pivot toward the sound, and they nod in recognition, gesture returned politely by the nurse slipping through. She then shifts focus, surprisingly shuffling back toward Joel tucked away in the corner.

It’s Judy again - that nurse from the ER who seems to be trailing them throughout the hospital. She pauses beside him, her gaze softening as she looks down at Sarah, and then back to him.

“May I?” Her voice is a hushed whisper as she gestures to the cramped couch that has become his home for the last several hours.

Anxiously his hands had been wedged beneath his thighs, but he slides them out, and scoots an inch to the right, making room for Judy to settle in beside him.

“I know I’m not one of the gals in pink, but I thought I would come and check on ya’ll.” She adjusts her sea foam green scrub top, smoothing out some wrinkles, and untangling her hanging ID badge that’s gotten caught in the chain of her glasses draped around her neck.

She’s so nonchalant about it all, it's a little strange, but also a little comforting hearing someone talk to him like normal.

"How are we holdin’ up?" she asks her voice a gentle coo. Joel pauses, caught off-guard, unsure if her words are meant for him or the baby nestled in front of them. He goes with the former, but manages only a shrug, expression a bit hollow.

“Well, that’s expected,” she murmurs back.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, his whisper barely audible as he brushes his palms back and forth against his thighs.

He’s been thinking it for hours, hasn’t dared to utter it outloud, but something about Judy has him spilling his secrets.

“Do?” She angles toward him, her brow bunched together in a soft frown.

“With her. I don’t know what I am supposed to be doin’.”

A reassuring touch lands on his knee. “Oh hun, nobody really does at first. But you’ll get there,” she encourages. With a hopeful tilt of her head she suggests, “Why don’t you start by holding her?”

Joel balks, his voice stuttering. “No I don’t - I don’t -,”

He’s thought about it, but she’s a tiny little thing - swears he’s seen potatoes at the county fair bigger - and he’s petrified of someone how smushing her. He’s fairly certain his hands will cause more harm than good the second he reaches for her.

He hasn’t, so he won’t.

“ - I can’t,” he begins, but Judy halts his efforts with a raised hand.

“Nonsense,” she dismisses as she stands, couch squawking with the change in pressure. Her hands are cool as they touch his arms, sending goosebumps up his skin the moment she bends and positions them. The reaction has nothing to do with the iciness of her touch though; his heart bounces into his throat before settling back into his chest and hammering against his ribs.

“Yep there ya’go,” she softly assures as they become a cradle. Silently, he shakes his head - every part of his body telling him he shouldn’t do it, but Judy pays no mind.

"It’ll feel more natural than you think.”

Staying petrifyingly still, his eyes acutely track her as she turns towards the bassinet and slips her hands under Sarah’s small form. “Hand under her head now, like where mine’s at,” she instructs, catching Joel’s nervous eyes and waiting for him to return a nod before proceeding.

He’s not ready, but he doesn’t think Judy would let him stop even if he asked; he suspects her bright red hair matches her personality in that regard.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and gives her a curt confirmation.

He’s going to have to be ready.

Sarah's tiny head fits into the crook of his elbow, and for a moment, he's too afraid to breathe. Her weight settles against his chest, and although a rush of warmth floods through his heart, physically he can’t seem to meet the feeling halfway, body clenched up tight.

Filled with apprehension his eyes flick up to Judy. She’s giving him a hearty smile, the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes turning into deep valleys as they crinkle up.

When Sarah begins to squirm and fuss, it has his heart starting to beat nervously fast. He didn’t realize he could be any more tense, but his body constricts even more, shoulders darting to his ears, spine curling, feet pushing hard into the ground; it's all in a futile hope that if he stops moving, she will too.

He holds his breath.

“Relax, she’s a baby, not a brick,” Judy whispers, careful not to aggravate Sarah anymore as she bends in close. “She feels what you’re feelin’ honey just -” Her hand settles on his upper arm and brushes down it.

He forces himself to take a breath, urging his body to comply with Judy’s coaching. Slowly, his shoulders come away from his ears and his chest sinks back against Sarah, and he lets out a shaky, but unburdening breath.

Sarah settles too.

When he looks up to show Judy, he discovers she has retreated several feet, busying herself with something on the back countertop. His heart catapults into his throat again as he realizes he’s holding her alone. His eyes widen with concern as they snap down to Sarah. He gulps hard, adam’s apple pushing down to the bottom of his neck and then climbing back up. His muscles are threatening to constrict again, but he tries to keep all that at bay.

Relax, relax, relax

The anxious flutter only settles when he sees Judy returning.

“Chart says she’s fit as a fiddle, and due for another feed soon. Did the nurse show you how to give her a bottle?” she inquires, peering at him over her purple glasses.

Joel shakes his head.

“They show you anything?” she presses, her tone gentle as she moves her readers and sticks them into her bushy hair.

Again, he shakes his head, and then at the same time both their attention moves toward the Johnsons, still ensconced in their silent prayer at Claire’s bedside. A mutual understanding passes between them then, both knowing that other things have taken precedence in this room besides teaching a new dad how to be just that.

“Well, I ain’t no labor and delivery nurse, but I’ve had five of my own. Reckon I can get you sorted,” she declares, settling back onto the couch. With practiced ease, she adjusts Joel’s hold on Sarah, her hands confident and caring. Unprompted, she continues, “You remind me of my youngest - and I’m not going to ask you where your mama’s at - but if my little one was havin’ his own little one, and I wasn’t there for some reason, I’d hope that somebody would have some mercy on that clueless kid and step’n for me.”

It’s true, he is a clueless kid.

He doesn’t know how to hold her, or feed her, or change a diaper, and he’s not sure what cry is fine and what sound should have him racing to find a nurse.

Not to mention any of the parts about her being a girl and what to do with that. He might have been able to push through if life with this child was going to be mud and dinosaurs and football and little boy things, but he has no idea about pink and princesses and dance class and being a girl.

And part of him knows he still wouldn’t know any of this stuff if Claire was sitting next to him, but at least she’s made for this.

Was made for this.

He’s not.

Yet, as if reading his mind, Judy offers: “You’ll figure it out.”

Sarah’s small lips pucker and then croak out the faintest yawn, before flattening into a little smile.

“See, she like’s when you hold’er,” Judy chimes while playfully bumping her shoulder into his.

Goosebumps cascade down his body again, but this time they are warm—soft and bright, like Sarah's smile. The fear still lingers, rattling in his chest, but he can’t help but mirror her expression. His mouth twitches, the corners lifting into a smile of his own.

The longer he looks, the more he realizes he’s seen that grin before.

Lost in the moment, he looks up to show Claire.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“No reason to keep her here, you’re all set to leave,” the pediatrician tells him as he unhooks his stethoscope from his ears and gently places Sarah’s blanket back in place.

His tone is light and optimistic, but his volume is hushed, matching the somber ambiance of the room. Everyone’s been quite cognizant to keep quiet with the Johnsons holding vigil at the other end.

“Leave? To another room?” Joel whispers, swaying on the balls of his feet, hands crossed tightly over his chest.

With a small snort and shake of his head, the doctor tries again, “No no, your baby is being discharged, you can go home.” There is a beat of silence and then he adds, “get out of ..here.. for a bit, get a break from this, son.”

Joel’s eyes drift over to Claire’s parents, and a weight that’s been looming in the background suddenly settles on his shoulders. He rakes his hands down his face and they settle in front of his mouth, palms touching like prayer hands.

He knew this would come, but he hadn’t let himself consider how it would play out. A shiver slips down his spine and he drags in a long breath.

He’s not sure he can do this part, but then again, he didn’t think he could do any other parts of the day either.

“Talk with ‘em, but I think it’d be best if she goes home tonight,” the physician encourages as he departs, giving his shoulder a small squeeze before smiling back at Sarah and taking his exit.

The talk is a mess.

It’s a charged volley of raised voices and differing views.

They can’t believe he is considering leaving, but the doctor is right, there is no reason to stay lingering by and waiting in a place seeped in gloom and dread when Sarah’s life should start with something much brighter.

They tell him a mother and child aren’t supposed to be separated.

They aren’t wrong, but they aren’t right. He holds his tongue to what he could say, and the conversation pivots, anyway.

He asks them to revisit what the doctors said, that she will not be waking up. Gently, he tries to convince them that Claire wouldn’t want to live as a shell hooked to monitors and breathing by way of an air tank -that this isn’t what she would want - that this isn’t her.

But they don’t get it. They tell him God can work in mysterious ways, that He will choose if she goes.

He tells them that God made his choice, and now it’s their choice - his choice, he corrects. He has let them take charge this entire time, but their ceremony at the courthouse in March makes this his responsibility.

It was just a little thing with a borrowed suit and a white dress from the thrift store, and a Clerk named Alvin as their witness, but he wants to uphold the vows he swore to her that day.

With a scoff, they tell him that it wasn’t before God, that it wasn’t in a church, that it might have well have been two kids playing dress up.

They say she’s still their responsibility. And he knows “responsibility” for them is really “she’s our baby,” - and he now has a glimpse of what that means - but still, he can face what they can’t.

He tells them they are making her suffer.

They tell him he’s going to hell.

He doesn’t necessarily disagree with them.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When he shakily thumbs through some paperwork - meaningless words on a page that don’t stick in his brain - and then signs his name at the bottom, he somehow feels too young and too old at the same time.

His signature is a janky mess that anyone would be hard-pressed to decipher if it came from the trembling hand of an eighty-year-old or a fourth-grader learning cursive for the first time.

Her dad had told him to be a man.

It hurts, but that’s what he’s trying to do.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When the nighttime air hits his face, he takes a breath, dragging it in slowly through his nose and holding it until his lungs beg for mercy. He thought a few moments away would feel good, but it just seems to have highlighted a new type of anxiety that’s prodding at his insides.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s forgotten something, but he knows it isn’t true.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, it whispers.

He tries to picture exactly where she is, tucked safely in the hospital minded by nurses, but the nagging feeling stubbornly remains.

Anxiously, he twirls a pair of borrowed scissors in his fingers as he walks across the parking lot toward his car. Every step further elicits one more repetition of her name, louder and louder.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

He pauses halfway across the parking lot, the urge to go back stopping his stride. As he drums the blade of the scissors against his palm, he considers it for a moment. He wants to have her where he can see her, but shaking his head, he dismisses the idea and continues on.

It’s strange how they’ve only been together for a few hours, and already he can’t seem to let her go—not even when he tries. He hopes that’s normal.

His keys twist into the back lock and the trunk pops open with a loud click, catapulting open and up as soon as it's unlatched. Having seen far better days, the ‘78 Wagoneer is chronically temperamental. He’s normally fluent in its weird behaviors, but he’s not on the ball today.

A second too slow at catching it, the edge nails him in the face as it comes up. It doesn’t hurt all that much, but it’s embarrassing, and he quickly turns his head around the parking lot to check if anyone’s noticed. But the only thing staring back at him is the washed-out face of a smiling baby plastering the side of the car seat box in his trunk.

It was bought over the weekend from Walmart, but hasn’t been touched since. Getting it sorted before the baby was born was supposed to be on the list of things for him to do.

Obviously that didn’t happen.

With a hefty sigh, he drags it closer and flicks open the scissors to slice at the packaging tape. Every inch of the orange handles and silver blades are heavily plastered in sharpie with “Nurse Stat. 7” to an absurd degree.

Asking for them wasn’t easy.

His request was simple at first: “Ma’am, do y’all have a pair of scissors or somethin’ I could borrow?” The woman at the large, curved desk glanced up, giving him her full attention. He probably didn’t need to say more, but her direct gaze made him nervous, and he found himself rambling.

And that’s when things got hard.

“We just had - I just had -” he stuttered before stopping in his tracks, trying to find the words that felt right to explain what had happened that day.

They did just have a baby, but they weren’t a “we” anymore, yet saying “I” felt dishonest—he hadn’t done anything. She had done everything. Gave everything.

And he knew the other half of his “we” was gone. He knew it, but verbalizing that reality outside the confines of her hospital room felt like he was spreading a lie, leaving a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth. So he decided to omit it—“if you have nothin’ nice to say, don’t say nothin’ at all,” he reminded himself, as though he was a kid back on the schoolyard, stopping a pesky rumor from spreading.

He wished it was just that.

With his hands buried in his pockets to hide their shaking, he instead managed, “My baby came a bit early and were gettin’ ready to go, but they say she needs a car seat, and her’s is still packed up in the back of my trunk.” The words came out awkward and uneven, voice cracking as if he was just a kid.

She was light on the sympathy when she handed the scissors over, slapping them into his palm with clear directions not to run off with them as if she’d heard his story several times before.

Maybe she has.

He dumps the pieces out haphazardly and arranges the array of lightweight muted grey awkwardly shaped plastic parts across the flatbed. The only bits he can definitively identify are a curved handle, a lightly padded fabric liner in blue, and two thin woven nylon straps for her seatbelt. Frustration comes on quickly as he fails to snap together two parts that look like they should fit, finds nothing that seems to anchor another, and every time he looks at the pieces scattered about, it feels like the pile has doubled in size. The minutes start to tick by quickly, and he’s no further in the process than when he started.

The little voice in his head is getting louder and louder screaming Sarah, Sarah Sarah!

He’s not really an impatient person but he can’t take it.

With an exasperated breath, an unlucky piece flies from his hand, arcs through the air, and crashes against the interior of the trunk, ultimately landing back among the sea of discarded parts.

Leaning heavily against the back bumper, his clenched fists dig into the rusty metal, knuckles going white. His chin hits his chest, defeated. Of all the things to make him unravel today, he can’t believe the goddamn car seat is somehow a fighting contender.

He thought he would be good at this - capable of building something - it’s what he does day in and day out, but this is a puzzle, not a construction project. He can build a house, but he has no idea what fits where in a seat that doesn’t even look like it would hold a toy doll, much less a living breathing child.

His gaze lifts reluctantly to the box, and with a deep sigh, he straightens. Dragging one hand through his hair the other plunges back into the box and retrieves a small white instruction booklet that mocks his competence. He slams the trunk shut with a dissatisfied breath.

Coming around front, the window slips down a healthy inch as he forces his car door open with the usual two hearty tugs. The leather of the seats are cracked and chipped, and whenever he slides into the driver’s side, his jeans always snag as he gets settled. Today is no different.

The car smells like her - sweet and floral with a hint of salt from that spray she likes to put in her hair. Claire always said it was to help with her curls but knowing her, Joel thinks it was just to smell a little like her favorite place.

He leaves the door open, allowing the nighttime air to cycle through the cabin and chisel away at one of the last remnants of her.

Lingering in any memory of her for longer than a heartbeat hurts far too much.

He cranes and contorts his body to catch a sliver of light, but it helps little. Even the big bold letters on the front - “Joy Ride Infant Seat Manual” - fade into the darkness and when he flips to the first page, squinting does nothing to help decipher the instructions.

With a sigh, he tosses the booklet into the passenger seat and moves his keys from the cup holder to the ignition. The clunker sputters to life, and Joel slams his door shut, the window pane sneaking down another half inch as the metal frame rocks with force. He drives it up two spaces, putting it under the white light of the parking lot pole lamp, and then gets out, and tries again.

The instructions do wonders for making progress.

The seat begins to take shape, but its frame is lighter and more fragile than he wants it to be. Each piece snaps and clicks into place with an unsettling ease that doesn't inspire confidence in the slightest. His hands grow clammy as he flips back and forth through the instruction booklet, doubting each step.

"Right?” he asks with skepticism to the air, picturing how it should look, glancing at the flimsy thing, and then back to the box and booklet. Truthfully, he had been worried about the quality even before putting it together:

“It’ll be fine, we didn’t even have them when we were kids, and look - we made it through,” she had tried to assuage his fears as they waited in line with it by the register on Saturday. Doubt about their choice started settling in when he picked up the suspiciously light box and it rattled with the sounds of several small pieces.

Several pieces that are now somehow a car seat.

“Right,” he mutters reluctantly, shaking his head at the final product. It hardly looks like it will keep her safe, but he’s pretty sure that is the result of choosing the cheaper option - of being two kids on a shoestring budget - and not his poor assembly skills.

He was always the worrier, Claire was always the one to talk him down.

“Go with the motion of the ocean, dude” she would always kid, dropping her voice low and slow, pretending to be some surfer boy Kyle from San Diego.

He wonders if she would stay as cool about 'the motion of the ocean' if she saw the seat's concerning sway, despite being securely fastened into the backseat during the short drive through the hospital parking lot. His ears can’t help but to zero in on the sound of its rocking as he maneuvers the Wagoneer from the dimly lit lot to the harsh fluorescent light under the hospital’s awning.

Coming to a stop, the engine idles with a rhythmic purr that mixes with the steady blink of his hazards, and for a moment, it feels nice - just him alone.

But it doesn’t last long. Alone makes him feel guilty.

Sarah! The voice in his head screams again.

As he reaches to turn off the car, his fingers brush against his keychain, causing the baubles to jingle. He pauses, the sound drawing his attention to the beaded orange and black monarch and a tiny bleached conch that knocks softly against the other keys.

Claire had "spruced them up" one afternoon, hoping to get a funny rise out of his coworkers at the construction site. After the teasing, he took off most of the other girly keychains and pink ribbon, but he kept around the butterfly and small sea shell.

He wishes he kept all of it now.

With a deep breath, he retrieves the scissors from the dash and goes to collect his daughter.

She is fussy and more squirmy than he thought a baby should be when he eases her down into it. Her tiny limbs flail against the stiff plastic sides and each time he tries to snug her in, she wriggles, face scrunching in displeasure. The straps are working against him too, twisting up as he fumbles with the buckles.

His hands tremble as he attempts to adjust the plastic chest piece, sliding it up, then down, never quite finding the right spot. He knows he’s doing something wrong, but he’s not exactly sure what - other than maybe being too gentle, but he’s not sure how to change that either because he’s determined to keep his touch feather light with her; keep it all soft and gentle so he doesn’t scare her more than she already looks to be.

He glances back at the assembly booklet, but the part about actually putting your child inside is light on details - just one page out of a hundred.

Sarah’s cries escalate, echoing in the backseat and slipping out to fill the air in the hospital entry.

His heart races as he imagines the eyes of every passerby on them, judging his clumsy attempts. A car honks loudly, startling him, and he pops his head up just in time to catch the driver shaking their head in disapproval as he swerves past.

“Work with me Sarah, come’on baby girl.”

He holds his breath as he hears the sound of the sliding doors behind him, and his hands still as he bears down and waits for someone to yell at him to get a move on.

He steals a quick glance over his shoulder, catches the eye of the woman coming through, gives her a pleasant but curt nod and then turns back toward Sarah in the car. He hopes the gesture will stave off the inevitable complaint heading his way.

“Excuse me.”

He sucks in a breath but doesn’t reply, unsure of what to say. He knows he’s been at this too long, he doesn’t need a stranger reminding him of it too.

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

"Need some help with that?" she asks.

His face must convey his answer, cause she doesn’t wait for his reply, pushing in next to him. Part of him wants to resist the help, too proud to need it, but the better part of him lets his hands back away and hers take his place.

“First time’s always hard with these things,” she tells him as her hands untangle and unclip the twisted straps. Her nails are painted purple like Claire’s before - like Sarah’s mom’s that morning - and that’s all his brain can seem to focus on as she moves things around. He almost misses her undoing the straps completely and resetting them- apparently he anchored those upside down when he put the thing together.

With a final click of a buckle, she’s gone as quickly as she came, giving him a pat on the back before climbing into the car that honked at him just moments ago.

He didn’t get the chance to say thank you.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a short drive home, but it's a spotty blur of lights in the dark - some greens and reds, but mostly whites - bright headlights that burn into his retinas from the rearview as he takes far too many long and hard glances toward Sarah in the back seat.

With every mile, his grip on the wheel tightens and his arms stiffen, and by the time he’s pulling into the apartment complex he might as well be a statue in the front seat. And even though it prolongs the stiffness even more, he takes the curve into the apartment complex at a crawl and keeps the speedometer unreadable as he glides gently into his parking space.

His foot moves slowly as it eases off the break, car bobbing back ever so slightly. His hands release the steering wheel, knuckles aching as they straighten and flood back to color. His right-hand drifts stiffly down, fingers curling around the ignition key. With a deep breath, he pauses, gaze going to the top of Sarah’s car seat just visible in the corner rearview, and then with a decisive twist, the rickety engine that had been her lullaby shudders to a halt.

Mercifully, she doesn’t wake.

He exhales a long breath as the car settles into the stillness - quiet, yet far from peaceful.

Drawing another breath in feels like inhaling sludge, oxygen to thick to gulp. Suddenly his body is feeling again, bringing out every worry and fear that he pushed down in their drive home. They are trying to crawl out of his stomach, digging into the sides of his throat as they climb their way up and out.

He can’t breathe.

The car is totally stopped, but he feels like any move he makes now will somehow send them into a tailspin, he won’t be able to steer them out of it, and they will crash, and Sarah will end up in the same place as Claire.

She’s home safe and sound - “home safe”, he repeats over and over in his head - but he can’t get his brain and body to sync up.

He knows it's all irrational, but he feels lightyears away from safe.

His fingers grip the top of his thighs, pressing down hard and deep as his breaths come in choppy and labored through his nose, jaw clenched up tight.

He knows what’s happening, but it makes little difference in stopping it. His mother used to call it "emociones fuertes" when he was a child, but he hasn’t had a true one in years - really not since living with Claire.

“Stop it Miller, Stop it.” He grates, trying to find something to focus on to push away the feelings of overwhelm. His eyes land on the only thing in view, the parking sign at the head of his spot, and he traces the number 12 over and over again with his eyes.

Down, around, across, over. Down, around, across, over.

Failing to find relief, he takes a long breath in and collapses forward, forehead pushing into the top of the wheel as he closes his eyes hoping the sparkly specks and blurry colors behind them will be a better distraction. Instead, his mom’s voice comes drifting through his head, a brief vision of her flashing behind his eyelids: "Mira, mira, mijo, mira a mí. Inspira - uno, dos. Suelta - uno, dos."

He does what she says.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He repeats over and over again.

When he peels himself up and away after an undeterminable amount of minutes, his eyes first go to his rearview mirror and catch Sarah’s car seat, and then go to his dashboard and land on the green numbers of the clock. It reads 10:27, just like the placard on her bassinet at the hospital - a strange coincidence that has his anxiety twitching, threatening to come back in full for no apparent reason.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He cracks open his car door, but almost slams it shut - a roaring sound of buzzing cicadas wafting into the car. He holds his breath and pauses, hand not even off the door handle. He waits and waits for her to start fussing and crying -bugs should make babies cry right?- but Sarah stays quiet, blissfully asleep.

And she remains that way by some small miracle as he detaches her car seat and locks the car with a loud resonant chirp.

The flight of stairs up to the apartment is taken at a sloth's pace, anchoring both of his feet into each concrete step and pausing before moving on to the next, all while holding the car seat fiercely level with two hands as if the slightest dip will have her slipping out.

When he reaches his front door, he does everything in his power to minimize the sway of her seat as he shifts to hold her with one hand and muffle the jingle of the keys as he unlocks it, petrified of waking her.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a creak, it falls open and an unexpected, staticky voice from a distance halts him on the threshold. His eyes track the sound to a very faint blue glow in the far corner and the realization hits harder than it should - TV’s still on, left unattended in the rush this morning.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Shaking his head, Joel sighs heavily and steps inside. His gaze flits to the light switch but then back to his hands glued firmly to the car seat, and decides not to engage with it, forgoing the juggle it would take to get them turned on. The door closes with a push of his heel, and the apartment entry plunges into darkness.

A jolt of panic rips up through him as he stumbles, feet tripping up on something on the floor. He catches himself in a rush of awkward steps, and looks back to see the culprit. Squinting against the dark the outline of Claire’s backpack comes into view.

Swallowing hard, he tears his gaze away, focusing on getting Sarah settled.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Embarrassingly, his arms are already aching, and that makes his heart pound with worry, fearing somehow they will just give out without his permission. It’s maybe only ten steps, but it feels like he is crossing the entire length of the small apartment as he rushes to put her down.

But then she’s on the coffee table and he finally lets out a real breath.

Fumbling in the dark, he attempts to flip down the car seat handle, hands blindly feeling out the button, but he can’t get it to budge. “Okay, baby girl, okay,” he coos in a whisper as Sarah begins to let out the tiniest mewls as her resting place is disturbed. Promptly, he removes his hands holding them up until she settles.

He steps back, pauses, then scrambles to find the remote control and flips off the TV, pushing the space into stark silence.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a deep sigh, he sinks into the couch in front of her. A sliver from a street light outside slips through a small opening in a window curtain, hitting her car seat at just the right angle. The orange hue brightens up the darkness just enough for Joel to see her small little face as she settles back into sleep.

It should make him feel better, being able to see her, but the more he stares, the more anxiety fills his body.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He isn’t supposed to be doing this alone.

Twisting his watch band back and forth, his mind races with all the things he doesn’t know, all the things he’s going to have to learn, and everything he has to do. He grates his molars together as the list grows and grows.

He’s going to fail at this.

He is going to fail her.

His chest is feeling tight again, and his breaths are coming in choppy no matter how many times he tries to coach himself into breathing. Desperate for relief, his hand leaves his watch and goes to rub it against his sternum. It’s an unseasonably cool day by Austin standards for July, but the apartment is starting to feel unbearably hot and all too small. His shirt is growing wet, sweat making it uncomfortably cling to his body, and he wants to just rip off the constricting material and get out of this too-small space, and run away.

But that idea hurts his heart more than helps. An image of her alone in the dark stabs at his insides and aggravates all the dread swirling inside him.

He stands abruptly and crosses to the window, bats at the curtain to push it aside, and cracks it open to let in some of the night's cooler air.

The sounds of the city at night drift in - a car alarm in the distance, the low hum of traffic, and of course, the buzz of the summertime cicadas. He leans against the wall next to the window, allowing the slight breeze to cool his face as he listens.

He didn’t realize how suffocating the silence was until his heart rate slowed and his lungs grew lighter as he basked in the distant rumble of Austin. Back in the hospital, there had always been a constant backdrop of sounds—machines beeping, footsteps, conversations - all a distraction for his brain to digest instead. When it’s too quiet there is nothing to keep his anxious thoughts at bay.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He could stay standing in the spot all night long- fall asleep upright - but his heart is tugging him in a different direction after just a couple of minutes. Feeling more steady, he pushes off the wall and goes back over to Sarah, already worried he’s done something wrong by taking his eyes off her for just a few moments.

When he settles in next to her this time, it's on the floor beside the coffee table, wanting to be as close as possible. He leans his head on the wood table top as he gently reaches inside her car seat and lays his hand atop her stomach.

Feeling every one of her tiny inhales and exhales calms some of his nerves, but doesn’t wash away all his fears. He pushes himself to match her breathing.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

*** ʚїɞ ***

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he certainly doesn’t remember moving off the scratchy rug on the floor to the old green tweed couch, but he has.

His eyes snap open as the sound of her wails jolt him awake, body jerking and almost tumbling off the side, back to the floor where he thought he had been.

Still dark, his eyes take a long moment to adjust, only seeing the outline of her car seat and her squirmy body, while his brain also races to catch up with his sudden awakening.

But then her small little body emerges from the dark, pushing against the confines of her seat, and he’s dropping to his knees infront of the coffee table in an instant. His hands make quick work of unclipping her buckles, but come to a slow as they reach inside for her - making sure his big clumsy hands are delicate and careful with her as they slip under her tiny arms and around her back, pointer fingers nestling at the base of her head as Judy had aptly shown him.

The moment she is free, her body curls into a tight ball, knees drawn to her chest. Her face mirrors, scrunched tightly as she cries, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open, her tiny chin trembling with each wail.

"Shh, baby girl, I got ya," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and laden with worry. Carefully, he draws her close against his chest, rocking gently as he kneels on the floor. His hand sweeps down her back in a soft caress, followed by a tender pat, repeating the process in a rhythmic lull. But it does nothing to soothe her.

Her cries continue to pierce through the silence of the apartment, and each sob compounding the worry and anxiousness filling up his gut.

One of them is shaking - he’s really not sure which one - but as her cries persist and stab into his ears, he thinks it might be him more than her.

“C’mon, Sarah, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads softly as he slowly rises to stand with her.

Pacing the room, he rocks her gently, his lips pressed to her forehead in a silent plea for calm. "Shhh, it's alright, nothing to cry about," he murmurs, the words meant as much for himself as for her.

It’s a little startling how easily her tears have triggered his own. They slip down his face in one hot wet line, and he feels horrible for allowing them to drip onto the crown of her head, but he can’t move his hands away from holding her to brush them out of his eyes and off his face.

“Please stop cryin’.”

The cries only swell.

The ring and echo in his ears, muddling his thoughts into a desperate slurry of “please stop.” He hates himself for it, but he places her back in the car seat, digs the heels of his hands against his eyes the moment they are unburdened, and groans hard in frustration.

“Wet, hungry, tired. That’s all you got to figure out, capiche?” Judy had told him.

He repeats it now, despite his doubts about the simplicity: “Wet, hungry, tired.”

Gritting his teeth, he wipes the back of his hand to his eyes, clearing away the tears, and carries her to the kitchen - not exactly sure why, it just feels right.

The tiles are cool under his bare feet and the overhead sconce flickers before coming alive and bathing the space in a soft yellow light.

He pauses with her in the carrier, looking at the mess of spilled breakfast still on the table, and the minuscule space of countertop that barely can fit a pan on a good day. He taps his hand against his thigh as he thinks about his options, but her cries are like a timer pushing him to make a decision.

They hadn’t gotten around to setting up her crib yet or a changing station of some sort, and the space seems the only feasible option for them right now.

So the floor it is.

He drops to the ground with her, tugging down two dish towels looped over the oven handle as he descends. A faint odor of rancid milk and soggy cereal wafts up from the tiles, leading his gaze to the shards of a broken bowl scattered beneath the table, remnants of this morning's chaos. He contemplates moving, but her cries are growing louder. Wincing, he pushes the stench to the back of his mind, and then with an exacerbated exhale that puffs out his cheeks, he wipes his forearm across the floor, checking for bits of bowl. When he feels none, he lays out the two towels atop each other like a little mat, hoping to provide her some comfort.

“Please stop cryin’, please Sarah I'm tryin’,” he whispers as he finds the snaps on her onesie - a powder pink and thin cotton thing given from the hospital, plain as can be. “Please baby girl I'm tryin’,” he begs softly against her hard cries that echo and bounce off the tiny kitchen, growing in strength each time they ricochet into his ears.

But his quick work is all for nothing, cause he straightens up on his knees and realizes he has forgotten the most crucial bit - a diaper.

His heart sinks and he lets out a dejected rumble at the realization of where it’s at. The hospital had handed him a 'goody bag for dad,' as one nurse had cheerfully put it, filled with enough supplies to last until he could make a proper store run. Grateful, he had nonetheless tossed it onto the floor of the passenger seat, his mind too preoccupied with other things to pay it any attention, until now.

Sitting back on his haunches, he contemplates a quick dash to retrieve it, but the thought of leaving her alone, even for a minute, claws at him.

With a resigned sigh, he bundles her back into the car seat - forgoing her onesie - it’s warm, it will just be a minute. Cursing under his breath, he heads to the car with her in tow.

The journey downstairs and back is torturous, each step deliberate, trying not to jostle her too much and worsen her cries. The thud of his heart pounds in his ears, synchronizing with each of her sobs.

He’s not sure if it's just the contrast of sounds, but it seems quieter out than before, and he wonders how late into the night or how early into the morning it actually is. He bites his lip with a grimace as they pass the neighbor’s door, Sarah of course letting out a particularly loud wail right in front, certainly disturbing their sleep. If he wasn’t already feeling guilty, that surely sealed it. He makes a mental note to send them an apology, as he come back inside to the apartment and drop the bag onto the kitchen floor.

With a deep breath, he resets, and begins the process again.

It’s his second time ever changing a diaper and it’s no better than the first horrid attempt at the hospital. Somehow the sticky side wings bunch up together and pulling them apart ruins the whole thing, tearing at the materials and making it wholly unusable. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the mistake, chucking the collateral damage of his inexperience far across the kitchen as she continues to cry and cry.

Things bode better with the second diaper, satisfaction flicking across Joel’s face as he fastens up the last snap of her onesie and her cries recede.

But the quiet is short-lived, gone before he can even sigh in relief. She starts to whimper and then they escalate into another bout of full-on cries, face scrunching up in discomfort.

She really does have a set of lungs on her.

"Alright, not wet, then. Hungry, huh?" He asks scooping her up into his arms as he debates what to do. He eyes the carrier and then settles Sarah back into it, standing with her in the middle of the kitchen for a long moment. It seems like the only safe place to have her when he’s up and moving.

“Hungry, we can fix that, just we gotta -,” he narrates as he takes a long stride forward to the counter. He attempts to place her on it, but the top of her carrier hits the underside and cabinet, preventing him from doing so.

Shit.

He fumbles momentarily, trying to figure out where to put her, to finally deciding on the sink. The stainless steel double bowled sink was something they used to make fun of, size out of place in the rest of the tiny apartment, but he’s never been more thankful for it now. Her carrier balances perfectly on one of the sides, resting atop like a colander would.

He lets his hands go from it hesitantly, murmuring, “Okay, just stay there,” as he slowly backs away to retrieve the brown bag of supplies from the floor.

“We’ll get you a bottle then,” he tells her, throwing the words over his shoulder as if she can understand. Her reply is only more piercing sobs.

His hands are shaky as he pulls out the formula and a bottle and he can’t help but stare at them with wide eyes as they linger in the palms of his hands. The transfixion breaks at the sound of a particularly rattled shriek that claws up from her throat.

He carries the supplies back to the counter and instinctively reaches into his pocket. Relief washes over him as he finds the small piece of paper he stashed there hours ago still safe. Carefully, he pulls it out and smooths the crinkled paper against the countertop edge.

“Can I write this down?”

“Sure thing, let’s um - here,” Judy offered, ripping out a blank form from a chart, flipping it over to a blank white back, and passing it to him with a click of a pen.

It’s his writing, but it’s barely recognizable chicken scratch.

Reading the instructions aloud to himself, his voice is hesitant and shaky, but he tries to ground himself in the steps, eyes casting over to Sarah every other second.

Her face is red and glistens, soaked in tears.

He can’t help but tell her, “workin’ as fast as I can baby,” as he lowers his head down to the bottle and makes sure he is pouring the exact amount of water into the measuring line. The formula tin opens with a scratchy metallic sound as he tears away the top. His fingers dig inside for the scoop - he made a note that Judy said it likes to hide - and when they find reach it he quickly uses the plastic shovel to ladle the powder into the tiny bottle.

It’s not a particularly clean process - rushing, excess powder spills onto the counter every time he taps the scoop to the lid of the bottle to get the formula in. He probably should be more careful with it, but Sarah’s screaming for him to hurry.

He slides infront of her as he shakes the bottle, using his free hand to wipe away the tears drenching her cheeks.

“Almost there, almost there,” he coos half to Sarah, half to himself, as he clings to small talk as if the words could bridge the gap between panic and calm while gently rocking her seat.

Raising the bottle toward the ceiling, he uses the light to check the formula is all dispersed and seeing it is, he turns quickly to offer it to her, and the nipple grazes her mouth her pulls it back quickly.

He forgot to warm it.

Quickly, he flips the faucet handle up and over, hot as it can go, and holds the bottle under the stream. The heat begins to sting his hand, but he holds it steady and waits for the warmth to seep into the milk.

Sarah’s cries lull to a sputter, and her tense expression eases into a prolonged frown.

There is only one thing that’s changed:

“You like the water huh?” he asks glancing back and forth between the tap and her face.

As he holds it under, the redness in her face fades begins to fade, and a tentative smile begins to form on Joel's lips. "You know, your momma loved the water," he distantly murmurs, watching her visibly relax.

With the rush of the faucet filling her ears, Sarah stops crying abates, and he slips the bottle out from under it.

“You get that from her.”

It’s a melancholy whisper that he knows she can’t understand, but he hopes it somehow it roots in her heart like his. Catching a glimpse of Claire in her - getting a reminder that she still is her daughter too, and not just his, has a certain type of flutter kicking in his heart.

He tests the temperature on his wrist like Judy showed and, then hesitantly takes a sip himself just to double check—it’s lukewarm at best, but it will have to do. He keeps the soothing rush of the tap on for her as he gently slips the bottle into her mouth. When she takes it without protest, his shoulders droop, relief washing over him. He watches her drink, the soft rhythmic sounds of her sucking mixing in with the white noise of the water beside her.

"There you go, baby girl. That’s it," he murmurs, a smile blooming full into his cheeks.

He’s not sure what does, but suddenly he’s feeling like nothing can go wrong.

As she takes the bottle at a chug, her plump cheeks rise and fall, appearing even fuller and irresistibly adorable. Her long eyelashes, mirroring the rich brown mop of hair atop her head, flutter gently as she settles more comfortably. And even after crying her little head off, remnants of her screams and tears still clearly on her face, he can’t help but think that she is one of the most beautiful babies out there.

Which isn’t a surprise cause she looks like Claire and she was one of the most beautiful people out there.

"We can do this," he whispers.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“3 weeks from baby!”

The small little calendar magnet stares him down. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot from a night gone without sleep, but he holds its gaze harshly. Gently swaying, Sarah rest against his chest, her tiny form curled securely in his grasp.

He’s not sure what to do with it.

Never once has he changed it - it was Claire’s thing - and it still feels like her thing- but the morning light peaking through the crusty blinds in the kitchen is hitting it perfectly, spotlighting it in a warm glow, and it just feels like the world is telling him to fix it.

He stops his sway, coming to a slow as he heaves a sigh. With one hand, he carefully removes the magnet, flips it to the last page, jostles it in the air as the thin pages catch on the cheap spiral binding, and slaps it back onto the fridge.

“Baby is here!”

It’s up for all of three seconds before it flies across the kitchen.

It clangs against the metal sink, sliding down with a scrape, and settling ominously at the bottom drain.

Fixed somehow feels infinitely worse than wrong.

Sarah stirs, a soft whimper breaking through as she senses his tension. He exhales slowly, relaxing his clenched jaw, and resumes his gentle sway, hoping to soothe both her and himself.

Now, the black fridge door hosts only a lone neon butterfly magnet, its wings pinning a small card beneath them - a phone number, an address, and an army insignia.

His heart moves from somewhere beneath Sarah to the floor.

Tommy.

He had been gone most of the summer at basic training, and at the start of his ten weeks, Claire had put up the address to make sure she knew where to send his letters. They were two kindred spirits, the same type of recklessness and bubble - her little brother just as much as his.

He never asked what was in the letters she sent, but he’s certain Claire was keeping Tommy up to date with her pregnancy, especially because in his own letters from Tommy, he would be nagged about not buying Claire enough chocolate-covered pretzels and salt n’ vinegar chips- her two favorite snack cravings.

He deserves to know.

Plucking the card from the fridge, Joel shuffles over to the wall-mounted phone, the cord stretching and coiling like a reluctant snake. He sinks into a kitchen chair, cradling Sarah more snugly as he dials the number, each press of the button sharper than necessary. Calling during training isn’t really a thing - “only write me” Tommy had explained once, but this isn’t something that could wait. After an agonizing series of redirects and brief conversations with faceless operators, his brother’s familiar voice finally crackles through the speaker.

“Joel? Everythin’ alright?” He asks immediately.

His eyes are on Sarah, balanced in his arm supported up by a bent leg in a figure four. His foot is wiggling anxiously, but she seems to like the motion as it vibrates up his leg. “She’s here” is what is at the tip of his tongue, fighting to come out, but that’s barely half the truth.

The feeling like he is about to spread a lie is back, guilt settling heavily in his chest. He can’t find the words to say Claire is gone.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Joel? You there brother?” Tommy presses again.

His eyes drift up to the butterfly on the fridge and suddenly the truth is tumbling out in a hurried stream, details of the past day pouring out so quickly he barely catches his breath. He’s not even sure he says it all in the right order, and he knows the sprinkles of things the doctor said, and mentions of Claire’s parents, as well as his laments about not having anything ready, probably don’t help with clarity either. By the time he finishes, the phone is pressed hard against his ear, digging into the cartilage to an uncomfortable extent and the acidic taste from yesterday is peaking into his mouth from the top of his throat.

For a long moment there is only the echo of Joel’s winded breath.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Hermano,” Tommy sighs, breathy air pushing into the phone and transmitting as a loud crackle in Joel’s ear. The static subsides back into silence, and both are unsure of what to say.

“Brother I’m s -,” he begins, only to stop to shush some ruckus in the background of his line, “I’m goin’ to request some leave - come home, be there by day after next.”

“That ain’t -“ Joel begins to protest, but Tommy cuts him off.

“-don’t start with that, I’m comin’, this is family.”

His eyes wander down to the bundle in his arms, and immediately they well up with tears. He sniffs them away - no time for that, he chastises himself - and nods his head before letting it fall back, gaze turning up toward the blotchy ceiling, letting gravity take care of the rest of the water pooling in his eyes.

“Joel?” Tommy asks against the prolonged quiet, voice tugging him back from the brink of tears. He comes back to attention, clearing away the tightness growing in his throat with a closed-mouth cough.

“Yeah sorry.. I’ll see ya’ day after tomorrow then.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Tommy parrots, almost absently, trailing off with another despondent sigh. “Howaw is he?”

“He?” Joel pauses, confusion wrinkling his brow.

“Your son.”

“Oh,” Joel says with a small snort, a hint of a smile forming. He wedges the phone into the space between his ear and shoulder, and holds it firm in place as he readjusts Sarah. She’s starting to wake, lips twitching up and little eyes fluttering. He gently brushes his pinky down her soft cheek.

“Well you ain’t goin’ to believe this, but he’s a she.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, a girl…Sarah.”

Sarah who looks like Claire with beautiful brown eyes and thick hair, and loves the water like her mama. Sarah who has a sweet little gurgle but cries like a coyote cause she’s strong and knows what she wants. Sarah who has been with him topside less then a day, but has already made his heart grow two sizes bigger.

“Well I’ll be dammed..baby girl Miller...ain’t that somethin’.”

She is. She really is.

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #tipsy bison #ao3 fanfic #joel miller #joel and sarah #sarah miller #oc #Claire Miller #tommy miller #Joel becomes a dad #Dad Joel #my fic #my writing #Next of Kin #sad stories #sad shit #single parent Joel

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