Jungkook + enemies to lovers 😫
are yall okay
e2l + teacher au + dilf jk
As a kindergarten teacher, you’ve kind of been conditioned into being a nice person. After all, you spent most of your day surrounded by people with missing front teeth and shoes that light-up— it’s hard to be mean to children. Especially when they’re all so cute and squishy, have the doughiest cheeks on the planet and say the funniest made up words like, “bazillion-jillion” and “jiggly-wiggly.” They were endearing and they were sweet, often making your day without even meaning to.
The same couldn’t be said for their parents.
Areum is sitting in the reading area, backpack neatly placed atop her desk, when her father arrives. Clad in the same dark suit as always, Jeon Jungkook looks extremely out of place in your colorful classroom. “Daddy!” Areum beams, and he has the decency to at least kiss her forehead hello before jumping headfirst into battle with you.
Jeon Jungkook is a single dad, a fact Areum had randomly decided to disclose to you one afternoon in the sandbox, as children do, so you know he has a lot on his plate. Between working and raising a little girl, you imagine it’s difficult for him to unwind. The dark circles under his eyes are a force to be reckoned with, but you suppose it sort of adds to the sexy dad vibe he’s got going on.
(Not that you could ever say that to his face.)
And as understanding as you want to be of his situation, Jungkook is a little… annoying. He’s a good dad! That fact cannot be denied. But even you can look past your sympathy shades to say that scheduling his fifth parent-teacher meeting of the month is a little excessive.
He has this rather incessant fixation with arguing about her grades, convinced— as most parents are —that his kid is the smartest in the world. So even before Jungkook sits down, you already know what he wants to discuss. His briefcase hits the corner of your desk with a thud, before he flashily draws out a red sheet of craft paper from its depths, Areum’s art project from last week. Doesn’t even offer you a greeting. “This is definitely worth an A+.”
You sigh, pressing your hands against your face. “Mr. Jeon,” you begin slowly, “I’ve explained before that her art projects are not graded solely on the quality, but on her ability to follow instructions as well.”
Jungkook bristles, letting the sheet flutter onto your desk. Areum glances over from behind the kid-sized bookshelf, gives the two of you this pointed look as if she’s the adult in the room trying to reign in two fighting kids. The worst part is that it actually works; in a quieter voice, Jungkook hisses, “Areum’s art is good— I think you just hate my kid.”
Your jaw drops. “What—“ you blurt out, belatedly remembering to keep it down. You push yourself to your feet, arms crossed over your chest. “I do not hate anyone’s kid,” you spit, “much less one as as sweet as Areum.”
Jungkook’s jaw twitches, hands on his hips. “I know she’s sweet,” he spits, briefly glancing over at where the topic of your heated interaction is flipping through a a butterfly book. “Sweet and talented, which is why she should’ve gotten an A+, and not a B+.”
You roll your eyes. “Again, not based on her talent only, Mr. Jeon.” Like a kid, he copies your pose, the sleeves of his suit a little strained as his muscles bulge beneath the fabric. He even looked hot when he was mad. You stomp that thought down, whirling around to reach for Areum’s weekly performance review which you hastily slap down onto your desk. “Look,” you huff, flipping through the sheets carefully held together with a pink paper clip, “she’s good at art, but struggles a little with the instructions.”
Jungkook’s sighs, the sound practically a growl from how it catches in the back of his throat. And despite the annoyance wafting off of him in waves, he tries to subtly lean closer to get a look at your notes. He doesn’t drop his stance, doesn’t even apologize for coming on so rudely— not that it’s the first time —without knowing the situation. He remains as on edge as he was when he first walked in. “‘Needs to have instructions repeated multiple times,’” he recites, eyeing your detailed review.
You nod, trying to push the paper closer to him; Jungkook is standing a little too close now, the scent of his cologne tickling your nose. “She tends to get ahead of herself,” you explain, glancing over. You nearly flinch when he looks back, so close. His gaze is solid and unwavering, meeting yours with a serious glint in his as he listens carefully to what you’re saying. “She needs to work on listening first and then doing.”
For a minute, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, choosing to just rub his hand against his chin as he mulls over the information you’ve just presented him. And while standing beside this awfully gorgeous yet slightly hardheaded man is a little overwhelming, it’s better than having him accuse you of hating his five year-old kid. Areum peeks over and you offer her a tight-lipped smile, which she returns with her own sparkly grin. It eases your nerves.
“Okay,” Jungkook suddenly announces, clapping his hands together. The sound makes you jump, makes Areum run over too. He points a finger your way. “So help her improve her listening skills,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “That’s your job, right?”
You frown. “My job is to teach her,” you correct, unimpressed. “A child’s listening skills are something they usually develop at home.”
“At home?” he repeats, mindlessly placing his huge hand on the top of her tiny head. Areum’s got the same dark brown hair as him, the same glossiness and all, too. “So can’t you just come over and help her?”
You choke. “What?” you cough, flustered at Jungkook’s suggestion and how easily it’d rolled off his tongue. “I’m her teacher, Jungkook, not her tutor or nanny or whatever.”
“Miss __ is gonna come over?” Areum exclaims, clinging to her father’s pant leg.
“No,” you rush to correct, trying to respond in a way gentle enough for Areum but blunt enough for Jungkook. “That would be very inappropriate of me, Areum.” The aforementioned father rolls his eyes, stuffs the hand not petting Areum’s head into his pocket.
“Why?” she asks, as most kids do.
You sigh, straightforward in the glare you send Jungkook. “Only people you know and like should be going to your home, honey,” you try to explain, offering her the best, if strained, smile you can muster.
Areum blinks. “But I know and like you,” she says, and you’re touched for all of two seconds before she feels the need to tack on, “and Daddy likes you, too.” You freeze and it’s Jungkook’s turn to jolt in surprise. Areum pushes on. “Yeah, Miss __,” she nods, seemingly recalling a far distant memory. “Daddy calls you the pretty lady from school, mmhm.”
The blood rushes to your face. Jungkook jumps to his own defense. “No,” he chuckles nervously, trying to play it off as he glances between you and his child, “that’s— I didn’t say that, Areum.”
Another frown from the tiny human dead set on embarrassing the two of you. “What? But Daddy, you always ask about Miss__ and you always wanna visit school just to see—“
He interrupts her with a loud cough, cheeks aflame. Not that you’re any better, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “We should, um,” Jungkook stammers, reaching for his briefcase, “head home now. Yes.” You nod meekly, clumsily handing him Areum’s art project before he can forget it on your desk. Your hands bump and the both of you stumble over each other’s apologies, choppily bidding each other goodbye.
“Bye, Miss __!” Areum calls, unaware of how she’s just reduced two functional adults into stuttering messes. Jungkook, who you previously wanted to throttle for being so annoying and insistent, spares you a shy glance that sends a tingle down your spine. “You can come over whenever you want! Daddy can make you dinner.”