#and i would like to know. that is what i am asking
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Did this once with a student who was calling a classmate gay as an insult (first graders). Asked him to tell me why it was funny, if he knew what it meant, and why it was something to make fun of. It didnât happen again.
saw a tiktok by a male elementary school teacher about how he's realized one issue w/gen alpha boys saying all these awful things is they aren't facing social consequences for it. so much of "boys will be boys" approaches and appeasement have created this. I think one of the reasons my younger brother never engaged in this sort of behavior is because of me rejecting peer pressure and choosing to distance myself from my dad. the worst thing you can do is stay quiet. the fact that teachers are having to come on social media and say "perhaps tell your students it's WRONG to joke about toddlers being raped" or whatever is fucking insane. call me crazy but I do NOT remember it being this bad when I was younger. there was edgy humor yes (for example the r slur was way more normalized) but the type of humor discussed in this post is something i'd typically associate with like, frat guys. I do remember when I was maybe around 6 years old I stumbled across pedobear and thought it was hilarious, problem is the teacher lectured me without even telling me what the fuck the meme is implying or why it's bad. so in part over-sanitizing topics makes things harder as well.
anyway, one teacher mentioned he's been asking the boys why the jokes are funny. this is actually somewhat similar to what I do with my adult coworkers when they say something awful as a joke; I pretend I didn't understand the joke and ask them to explain it. they go quiet and get uncomfortable every time.
cognitive empathy is learned and not born, so speak up whenever you can encourage it, with adults or children.
#another kid also first grade got a kick out of teling me i look like a girl#iâm a trans man who didnât pass well at the time#but usually kids will just accept what you tell them#so kid would go âbut you donât look like a boyâ and iâd say âyeah not every boy doesâ#or theyâd ask why i look like a girl (not being mean) and iâd just tell them that being a girl didnât make me happy so iâm a boy now#but this one kid. thought it was the funniest thing in the world to tell me i wasnât a boy#and i didnât yell at him or anything. i did my best to gently explain why that was an unkind thing to say#but it eventually got so bad that he was sent to the office and one of the admins pulled me aside#i wasnât in trouble she just wanted to let me know that the school supported me and that i am allowed to exist as myself at work
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when heâs wounded/sheâs patching him up?
(Yes Iâm a nursing student I promise we arenât all mean girls đ)
ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 âyou meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k
One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. Youâre professional nonetheless.Â
âWhat am I seeing you for today?â you ask, holding your hands behind your back.Â
Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. âSomeone hit me really hard.âÂ
You can see the bruise forming against his temple. âYes, Iâd say so. Did you know the assailant?âÂ
âNo, but itâs handled.â His smile turns to a grimace. âUh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.â
âA head injury could trigger that,â you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. âCan I have a look?â you ask softly.Â
When youâve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or heâs had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected.Â
Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. Itâll be a big bruise in just a few hours.Â
âSpencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,â you say, voice still soft. If heâs got a migraine coming, he wonât want your usual overloud distinction.Â
âItâs okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.âÂ
âYou have a laceration, yeah? Itâs about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if youâre okay with that.âÂ
âYeah, please. Um, about the migraineââ
âDo you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.âÂ
âI canât have narcotics.âÂ
You pull back and straighten the hair youâd displaced. âThatâs okay, it just means you canât have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?âÂ
âTylenol is fine as long as it doesnât have the codeine with it.âÂ
You give him a gentle nod. âIâll make sure itâs the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?â He probably knows, but you add, âItâs not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when Iâm poking around.âÂ
âAnything. Whatever you want to do first.âÂ
His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he canât see, and rest your hand on his arm. âIs there someone here with you?â you ask him.
âMy friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.âÂ
âThatâs okay. Iâm not sending you home until Iâve fixed you, Dr. Reid.âÂ
He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesnât say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury.Â
âWhat do you do for work?â you ask him.Â
âI work for the FBI.âÂ
âYou do?â You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. âThis might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.âÂ
âItâs not the cut that hurts.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If heâs already having one, you probably canât do much to get rid of it, but that doesnât mean pain relief wonât help. âIâll do this as quickly as I can.âÂ
Heâs quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when youâre done, and itâs so small you wonât irrigate it.Â
âAre you an agent?â you ask.Â
âYeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.âÂ
âOh, I know,â you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. âI think Iâve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?âÂ
âMostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.âÂ
âSo youâre the big gun.âÂ
âI guess so. Iâm not actually good with a gun.âÂ
âNo one has to be good with a gun to change the world.â You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. âI hate guns.âÂ
He sighs. âI do, too.âÂ
âThey make my job hard. Itâs not nice, seeing what they can do to people. Itâs awful, really. Spencer, Iâm so sorry, honey, Iâm just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.âÂ
âItâs okay.âÂ
You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you canât see the inside.Â
âIâm gonna cover this with the dressing now. You donât have to keep it on if you donât want to, itâs a pretty small cut, it was just deep. Iâd recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but itâs up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.âÂ
Youâre mildly flirting, then. Just because heâs nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when heâs roughed up, though.Â
Spencer, luckily, understands that youâre not trying to harass him. âThank you.âÂ
You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails.Â
âSo sorry,â you say, laughing under your breath, âitâs my nails, huh?âÂ
âItâs okay.âÂ
âYouâre a great patient, Spencer. Iâd give you a sticker if I could, Iâm not kidding.âÂ
âYouâre a great nurse.âÂ
âThank you.â You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. âHowâs that migraine?âÂ
âGetting worse.âÂ
âYou have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?âÂ
âPsychosomatic, apparently.âÂ
âOh, honey, Iâm sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?âÂ
âSome. I donât really⊠want it,â he says awkwardly.Â
âThatâs okay. If itâs psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. Howâs the stress in your life?â
âStressful.âÂ
âIt must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.â You smile carefully. âWas there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?âÂ
âI was mostly worried I had a concussion.âÂ
âIt doesnât seem like it. Youâre not nauseous, are you?âÂ
âNo, I donât think so.âÂ
He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isnât nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle.Â
âAre you alright?â you ask, taking his arm into your hand.Â
âIâm fine.âÂ
He had the look of someone whoâs always fine. Luckily for him, itâs your job to take care of people, to make sure theyâre more than fine. âOkay. Iâm gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?âÂ
âUhââ
âIâm getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.âÂ
He smiles, startled and pleased at once. âYeah.âÂ
âOkay, Iâm gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.âÂ
He nods but doesnât move.Â
As youâre leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think.Â
âReid, you okay?â you hear him say.Â
âFine.âÂ
âYouâre pink.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âYouâre blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didnât you?âÂ
âShut up,â Spencer whispers sharply.Â
âYou can ask for her number.âÂ
âNo I canât, sheâs working.âÂ
âBut you want to,â his friend surmises.Â
You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if youâre both feeling up to it, right?
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
681 notes
·
View notes
Text
đ The Turmoil One Suffers
summary: In the second installment of The Secrets One Keeps, a relaxing day on the pogue proves to be anything but, with your inner struggles getting the better of you and JJ hot on your tail.
jj maybank x reader, rafe cameron x reader
warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, talks of suffocation ig? plz let me know if I've missed anything.
a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering I first wrote this like 3 years ago. Also, for those asking, I won't be doing a taglist for this fic bc I'm lazy and technologically deficient.
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»ă..ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»ă.ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»
You shouldnât have been smoking, it made you feel uneasy, paranoid even.
You had found yourself on the pogue in the wake of Popeâs incessant bitching about how you had to make up for ditching them last night. The guilt had made you cave in. As he spoke, all that had flashed through your head was images of Rafe. You on top of Rafe, Rafe with his hands around your neck, the way Rafeâs hair felt between your fingers as you gripped on it when he got messy between your-
âDudeâ Sarahâs voice snapped you out of your recurring thoughts.
You turned your head to her as you took a drag of the blunt JJ had rolled, "hmm?"
âI asked if you wanted a beer?â
You checked the time on your phone, 12pm. After enduring 3 hours on this floating nightmare, you decide you're probably deserving of one.
âuh yeah sure.â You took another hit, extending your arm to grab the cold bottle.
You bought the edge of the glass bottle up to your lips and took a swig, letting the liquid wash over your cotton mouth. A swig swiftly turning into a gulp as thirst suddenly became itself known to you. One gulp then turned to two and before you knew it the bottle dried out.
JJ eyed your every move, the feeling that had been bugging him since you got into the Twinkie that morning had now grown into full-blown concern. Your unusual behaviour was deafening with the sounds of alarm bells.
âThirsty?â He spoke with furrowed brows, prompting Pope to chuckle though no joke had been intended.
Your eyes flickered towards JJ momentarily and instantly you knew what he was thinking. Anger disguised as adrenaline coursed through you.
âSarah will you pass me another? Mines empty.â Defiance clear in your tone, causing a thick tension to settle over the boat.
â's a bit it early to start chugging drinks isnât it?â JJ speaks up again before Sarah has time to respond.
You scoffed as you turned to him once more, maintaining eye contact as you took a long drag from blunt. As you exhaled the smoke, the thick white cloud blurred his features.
âSarahâ you tried again.
You hear a small sigh as she hands you another bottle.
âThank youâ You took another swig at the bottle, hoping the liquid would force down the concoction of guilt and anger that swirled in your mouth.
âSo like am I saying words out loud or is it just in my head?â JJ tried, at this point he just wanted a reaction out of you.
âYou asked me to come here.â Your tone was snippy, as another burst of smoke entered your system.
âwell my mistake clearly.â He was getting pissed off now, and you couldnât deny the sick satisfaction it gave you. You knew it was unfair, he hadnât done anything wrong, you just couldnât help it.
Pope cleared his throat. âThis is a whole lotta tension for such a little boat.â He tried to lighten the mood but his joke fell flat.
As you downed your second beer, you took another drag. âIt is isnât it?â You turned to him.
âMaybe you should have some of this JJ, itâll help you relax.â You threw the blunt in his direction, letting it fall at his feet.
âWhat the hell crawled up your ass today?â JJ spat at you, picking up the blunt.
The mixture of alcohol and weed infected your system, your breathing became staggered as you suddenly became hyper aware of the layers clinging onto your body.
You don't answer. Instead choosing to stand up and remove your T-shirt. Rafe returned to your mind as you focused on the image of him mimicking your same actions. Your trousers were next to go. You pushed them down whilst picturing Rafeâs hands running down your legs.
Pope eyed Sarah and JJ whoâs gaze were trained on you and your movements.
âWhatcha doing there bud?â Sarah asked watching you strip down to your underwear.
âIâm too hotâ was all you said, stepping off the edge of the boat and letting yourself plunge into the cool water below you.
As you became completely submerged, you breathed out all of the air in your irritated lungs. Leaving you empty and heavy as you continued to sink. The muffled noises of the water hit against your head yet all you could hear was your thoughts racing.Â
As the need for air increased, the rush of thought slowed. You liked it. The weightlessness of your body, mixed with the numbing of all of your senses was peacefull. A welcome change from the overdrive your body had been running on for the past year.Â
You forced yourself to stay down there, pushing your physical boundaries. A split second before completely losing consiousness you emerged again, letting the air penetrate through your system and invade your insides as it worked to reboot your muscles before giving life again to the internal mayhem in your mind again.Â
You floated with your head above the surface and your back facing the pogues. You couldnât find yourself to act remotely interested in what they thought about your little show.Â
JJ in turn felt as though he was slowly loosing his head. He felt dumbfounded because it wasnât just your behaviour that was different, your entire demeanour and vibe was off and he failed to comprehend what could have happened in the span of 12 hours for you to return to him a complete different person.Â
Sarah could see the way he looked at you, he was hot on your tail and she panicked trying to divert his calculating eyes from you. âSoâ she spoke up loud enough so that you could hear and be part of the conversation should you wish to. âTheres a party at my house tonight.â
âOh really?â JJ answered, evidently uninterested as he continued his stare down with the back of your head.Â
âYeah Wardâs out of town with Rose and y'know Rafe, any opportunity he has to get shitfaced heâll take it.â Relief washed over her as JJâs eyes finally unglued from you.Â
At the mention of Rafe your ears perked up.Â
âDo you guys wanna come?â A devilish grin on her face evident as she spoke.Â
âA kook party? We wouldn't be welcome.â Pope answered for the three of you, prompting a scoff from Sarah.Â
âItâs my house too, plus I already threatened Rafe to let me invite you guys. I told him Iâd snitch on him otherwise.â She shrugged.
âIâm sure he loved thatâ JJ added, amused at the thought of antagonising the Cameron boy.Â
âWell what did he say?â Three pairs of eyes turned to you as you finally spoke up from the water, now facing the boat again.Â
JJ couldnt help the face that your question caused him to pull. Why did you suddenly care about what Rafe Cameron had to say? Sarah already said they could go so why did it even matter?Â
âHe said whatever as long we stay away from him.â Her answer caused Pope and JJ to roll their eyes. It had been somewhat of a lie though.Â
Because what Rafe had really said when Sarah had threatened him was, âwhatever just stay away from us, and why don't you go ahead and bring that sexy little friend of yours.âÂ
To which Sarah had replied with, âWe wouldnât want to hang out with you and your classist friends anyway. Also, Kiaraâs with JJ, and Y/N wouldnât even touch you with a 10 foot pole so.â Unkowing of the situation between you and Rafe.
Looking back at it now, Rafeâs coy response of âweâll seeâ suddenly made much more sense to her as she shuddered slightly in disgust.Â
âCanât we take a night off? I mean donât you guys think weâve been going a little extra hard recently?â Pope tried to reason as you swam back up towards the boat, forcing yourself on board again.Â
âIâll be there.â You interjected as the water ran down your body, soaking the deck of the hms.Â
âwe all will be.â JJ fired back, a confusing swirl of concern and anger towards your attitude fought for dominance within his head.Â
You ignored him once more and lay back on the sodden deck, letting your persistant introspection rest as the blanket that was intoxication comforted you. You looked up at the clouds and the weighlessness returned. Before you knew it, he sounds of Pope and Sarah chatting drifted away with the soft waves that carried the boat. You lost grip on consciousness as the sun lulled you to sleep.
Around half an hour went by before JJ spoke up. âhey" he double checked you were definitely asleep.
He took your silence as confirmation before turning to the other two. âY'all saw that right?â
âSaw what?â Sarah played dumb even though he she knew exactly what he was referring to.
âthe way she was actingâ He whisper shouted, confused as to why no one else seemed remotely worried. âIt was like she hated us.â He spoke with the tone of a wounded man.
âYeah⊠us.â Pope muttered under his breath.
âI think sheâs just tired J, she uh- she had a long night.â Sarah stiffled what had been something between a laugh and a groan.
âNah guys look- I know her, that wasnât normal.â JJ didnât ease up.
âWe all know her.â Pope jumped on the defensive.
âcâmon dude itâs not just me, somethings obviously wrongâ
At this point Sarah wished for anything to distract him, because as much as JJ wasnât the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to academic performance, he most certainly wasnât dumb. And he definitely knew what he was talking about when it came to you.
âMaybe Itâs.. you know..â Pope waggled his eyebrows. âHer timeâŠâ he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck âof- of the month?â
âNice Pope.â Sarah rolled her eyes.
ââs not that. Guys look listen to me somethings definitely wr-â the ringing of his phone interrupted JJ mid sentence. Saved by the bell. Literally.
JJ grabbed his phone and his frown eased up slightly as he looked at the caller ID.
âHey babyâ his tone made it seem like whatever he had been worrying about softened itâs grip on him at the sound of her voice. âUh huh, okay give us ten and weâll be there.â He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
âKie?â Sarah asked, praying he wouldnât resume his ramble.
âYeah sheâs finished up at the wreck, wants us to go get her.â And with that the subject was dropped.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
The late afternoon breeze stroked you awake as you suddenly became aware of the voices around you.
Your eyes fluttered open and you stirred where you lay, your body stiff from the 4 hour positioning against the hard wood of the hms. You slowly sat yourself up and threw your T-shirt back on your body before turning back to glance at the now complete group of pogues. Fuck how long had you been out for.
You let your eyes linger on Kiara and JJ a couple of seconds longer than everybody else. He laughed carelessly pulling her tighter against his side. You groaned out quietly and reached for your phone, typing out that damned name.
To Rafe:Â Having a party and you didnât invite me? Iâm almost offended.
Almost instantly a reply came through.
Miss me already?
You rolled your eyes as he sent you another.
Figured Sarah would open her big mouth, better see you tonight ;)
âMorning Camper.â John B spoke up. You turned around to face him, every single one of them with their attention on you.
âHey can you take me home?â You directed at no one in particular.
âYou donât wanna stay and hang out?â Kie asked, she wanted to reach you, connect with you.
âI just want to go homeâ You were irritated and your head hurt, you were certainly in no mood for any of this.
John B was next to try âCâmon man we havenât all hung out like this in ag-â
âFuck just take me homeâ You lashed out. âpleaseâ You added in an attempt to soften the blow.
Silence fell over the pogues as John B lifted himself up and steered the boat towards the direction of your house.
As you hopped down you muttered a joyless goodbye to everyone.
âWait! Iâll walk you in.â JJ peeled himself away from Kiara and followed behind you, slightly speeding as you hadnât bothered to stop and wait.
He walked beside you, waiting until you were both out of hearing distance from the others.
âwhy are you angry?â He spoke up.
âIâm not angry.â You tried to walk faster but a calloused hand stopped you.
âStop. Just stop.â You heard the desperation in his voice as he turned you around to face him. âcan you just talk to me? Look whatever I did to piss you off Iâm sorry. You just- you were fine yesterday and now all of a sudden you hate us-â
âStop JJâ You just wanted it to stop. The consequence of your actions pounding down on you with every word that left his mouth.
âStop what?!â He couldnât help but shake you.
âTalking! Stop talking!â You shoved him forcefully off of you.
âThe hell's wrong with you?! dude Iâm worried about you. Todayâs just been so weird.â His fingers shoved themselves through his hair, a nervous habit of his.
The familiar lump in your throat began to form at the sight of your best friend.
âIâm tired J.â It wasnât a lie, you really were fucking exhausted. You were tired of lying, tired of watching the boy you loved love someone else, tired of trudging through your life heartbroken.
âYouâre lying.â He shook his head like a disappointed parent. âWhy you lyin' to me?â
âJJ. Iâm. Tired.â You screwed your eyes shut as your breathing began to quicken âIâm not lying Iâm just-â
âOkay alright.â His embrace cut you off. âI believe you.â He hated seeing you upset. Having known you practically his whole life, he also knew that nothing ever got resolved when you got like this, so he dropped the subject.
You almost broke down then and there, using everything you had in you to move your arms around him, hugging him back.
âIâm sorry.â You whispered, the meaning behind your words far greater than he could realise.
âHey itâs okay, we all have off days right?â He let go of you and gave you a small smile.
âRight.â Your remained court and quiet.Â
âIâll see you tonight. Go rest for a bit okay?â
You nodded and began to walk away before his voice stopped you once more.
âYoâ You turned to see that he had shoved his hands in pockets. âYouâd tell me if something was wrong right?â He hated that he even had to ask.
âMhm, courseâ You lied straight through your teeth before turning and walking away from him uninterrupted. You knew that as soon and as your bedroom door closed behind you, youâd sink down into a pit of despair and loathing.
Whilst the resolution had given him a little comfort, something deep inside told him that this wasnât the end of it.
Perhaps he should have left things alone, maybe then things wouldnât have escalated to extent that they were about to.
So as he watched you walk away, JJ stood there unknowing of what was to come. Unknowing of the way things were about to change between you forever.
#jj maybank#rafe cameron#jj maybank x reader#rafe cameron x reader#jj maybank x you#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader x jj#outer banks#obx#jj maybank angst#bsf!jj maybank
589 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nesting.
Cregan Stark x pregnant!reader
Summary: the reader has nesting habits while carrying their child. It's worrying Cregan to no end.
Masterlist
A/n: based on an incredible ask! He's so girl-dad-coded. Sorry, but I said the thing and I'm not taking it back. Girl dad.
.......................................................
Cregan stepped into their chamber and paused. "My love, what are you doing?"
His seven month pregnant wife looked over her shoulder. "Tidying."
She was currently standing on her small vanity bench, now pulled over to the bookshelf where she had been wiping at the dust on the highest shelf.
His hands came up, ready to catch her at a moment's notice as his body moved closer. "Why, sweet girl? Why not rest?"
She sighed to herself. "The birth is nearing. I need to be prepared."
"Love, dust on a six foot bookshelf is not something the babe will be checking." He placed a firm hand on her lower back. "Why don't you come down from there?"
Though she didn't want to, fighting him was utterly useless. "I don't know if I-"
He had already grabbed her, keeping her in a bridal carry as he moved to the bed. The slight groan from her made him pause. "Your back hurting you again?"
"Never stops," she muttered with a hand over her forehead, "It's like your child enjoys his mother's suffering."
"His? You think a boy?"Â
"It has to be," she whined. "It needs to be. I don't think I can take this many more times." When his face fell, a light smirk came over hers. "I can only clean the shelves so many times."
He scoffed in amusement. "You little minx." Usually a teasing comment like that would result in the two under the covers, but during this stage, it only made him more cautious of every move.
He set her down softly on the bed, taking extra care to hold her lower back.
She let out another groan at the movement but the ache subsided for a moment.Â
"Sit tight. I'll have someone fetch something to eat." And he stepped out of the room.
It was only a minute. A moment even. But still, when he returned, she was sitting in front of the fire, leaned back on her heels.
"What are you doing?" His voice echoes sharply.
Her hands flinched back as if she'd touched the fire itself, her body turning as much as possible to him. Her eyes were watery. "You're angry," she whispered.
The burly man forced himself to take a breath. "I'm not."
"No, you are."
"Fine. I am. But love, what is this?" He bent down to her level and grabbed her wrists, showcasing the ash across her palms.
"It was⊠it was so filthy across the front here. I've been staring at it for days. I just need to finish-"
"-With your bare hands? With these pretty little hands you intend to wipe ashes from a burning fireplace?"
"Just the front-"
"-And now I've got to wash all of this off you, don't I?" It sounded condescending, like scolding a child, but the light twinkle in his eyes proved that he enjoyed caring for her even when it exhausted his efforts.
"I was only trying to to help."
Her watery eyes were causing his heart to ache with a slight devastation. "I know, I know. But you're too close to the flames for my liking. Our little pup will melt."
A silent sob wracked through her at the mere thought of harm to their unborn child. Harm that was her fault.Â
"Oh, sweet girl. I didn't- I- oh, gods," he tucked an arm around her. "None of that. Let's wash you up."
"But the ash-"
"-When you get into bed, I'll handle the ash. Alright?" He asked quietly with a hopeful look in his eyes.
Her eyes searched his for a way to truly know he meant what he was saying. To wake in the morning to the sight of ash still in place was unbearable at the moment. "Alright."
"Alright," he confirmed with a relieved smile. "Alright. Let's get you up, yes?"
She nodded as he he helped her up and sit on their sofa. He held her hands palm up and gave her a stern look. "Stay here."Â
He moved to the small water basin by their beside and dipped a cloth in it, soaking it completely before moving back to her.Â
He cradled each hand gently as he wiped at the ash on her hands, taking care to wipe as much as he could. "Ash is dangerous, my love. I want you to tell me next time you want it cleaned."
"I thought I could do it quickly," she explained.
"Just promise me you'll tell me what you want done rather than doing it yourself. I don't want you to overexert yourself."
She heaved a defeated sigh. "Alright."
He kissed her forehead. "Thank you. We'll wash you and get you to bed."
âŠ
A week had passed in which Cregan had constantly ushered her to their bed, the nearest seat, and even having her sit in his large seat during petitions as he stood next to her.
But today he had yet to see her, and he began to miss her.Â
The moment the petitions ended, he excused himself to his solar, where he knew she'd be cuddled up with one of her few books.
He was right. The door opened, and he grinned at the sight of his wife with his cloak wrapped around her, reading away at the book he was sure she'd read at least seven times now. "Enjoying yourself?"
Her head shot up. "I didn't expect to see you for another few hours."
"I finished early. You know I can't stay away for too long."
She set her book away as he entered the room.Â
He kissed her softly and rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "What did you do with your day, pretty girl?"
She fidgeting with her hands. "I read quite a bit. That's all."
His brows twitched. "That's all? Just reading?" He knew better.
"Just that."
He ran his tongue across his front teeth. "If I go into our chambers, I won't find anything different than it was this morning?"
Her eyes widened. "Don't-"
"See? I know you too well." He leaned down and kissed her again. "You can tell me now, or I can go see for myself."
"No, stay here," she said in an urgent manner. "Stay with me. I've missed you," she tried to cover.
He pretended to give into her, letting her pull him down by the grip she had on his doublet. He kissed her cheek then pulled away quickly. "I'll be back."
"No, wait."
Cregan was already gone, moving swiftly to the bedroom and tossing the door open. Laid across their bed was an abundance of furs. Every cloak they owned but the ones they currently wore. Every fur blanket made for them was thrown on the bed. It all seemed messily done, but he knew better.
Not long after, the sound of his wife's footsteps came to his ears and he turned to meet her. "You've been quite busy."
"I'm only preparing, Cregan!" She whined. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her stomach keeping her from being fully against him. "It'll be any day now."
"You beautifully stubborn girl," he said with a shaking head in mock frustration. "You promised you'd tell me when you needed something."
"This is hardly a change. It was easy, I assure you."
"Love, I can't sleep like that. I burn like a furnace in the night anyway. This won't do any better."
"But the babe-"
He took her by the biceps, tugging her away from him. "The babe will be fine. The North is cold, but Winterfell is warm and comforting. Now please. Let me remove some of this from our bed."
Her eyes darted through the doorway to the bed and back up and him a few times in contemplation. "Fine."
"You sit over there," he pointed at their sofa. "And I'll do this."
She waddled over to the sofa, sitting down with a slight distain.Â
Cregan began to throw cloaks and furs over his shoulders, inspecting each one in light amusement and annoyance. He threw looks to his wife occasionally when she would say, "Not that one." Or "Keep that one." He had managed to get most of them off the bed before he gave in. "You'll keep these three. Understand?"
She nodded. "And if I get cold?"
He sighed. "You have a warm husband. He won't let the chill touch you or the girl."
He took his leave, pausing with a smile when he caught her soft "girl?". But he left anyway, returning the furs where they belonged.Â
âŠ
Cregan was indeed right again, for she laid in bed in a small puddle of sweat. The heat was great in their shared bed, and her husband was right to correct her previous thought.
"What are you thinking so hard about?" the great lord muttered, his voice riddled with sleep. His eyes were closed peacefully, but even with no sight, he knew when his wife was troubled.
"Just-" Cregan's hand rubbed at her bump gently, urging her to continue. "A girl?"
He let out huff, pulling himself from sleep. "I know it's a girl."
"It's not," she urged. "It's not. It's a boy."
He peeked his eyes open. "I don't care what it is. But I know it's a girl."
She let out a disappointed sound and pushed his arm away, beginning to push herself up to sit.
"No. You need to sleep."
"I have to change things now. I'm not ready for a girl," she explained with a hurried tone.Â
Before she could even move off the bed, Cregan had reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back to him and gently forcing her to lay back down. "There's nothing to change," he urged with his eyes locked on hers. "You've done everything right. The babe is loved and cared for, and the rest will fall into place. Yes?" When she didn't answer, he kissed her softly and tried again. "Yes?"
That was what she needed to hear. "Yes." She rubbed a hand over her shoulders in an attempt to soothe an ache. "Yes. You're right. He'll be fine."
"She'll be fine," he teased.
She sent an icy glare, making him close his mouth and lay back down.
"We'll just focus on today, alright? And today, you need sleep." When she had cuddled up to his side, he relaxed, knowing he had his entire world in his arms. "Just focus on today."
...................................................................
Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname, @cherryheairt, @classicsimpforaaronwarner,
#fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#cregan stark x you#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x y/n#cregan stark x y/n#cregan stark x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark imagine#cregan stark#cregan stark fanfic#cregan x reader#house of the dragon fanfic
541 notes
·
View notes
Text
DAYDREAM, æ đđ not kissing them.
âđđđđŸ đđŸ đđđŸ đđđđŸ đđđđ, đđđđ, đđđđ đđ â
đŸ â ⊠â ìíìŽí àšà§ f â± r! 13OO fluff ââ non idol au skinship kissing â ïœĄïœĄ â ( đđđđąđŁđđđ )
ì§ì â ⊠â whoever prayed for an okwonyo ot7 work ... hope you enjoy, luvdoll đ
( ËáËreblogs&feedbacks · CđđCK )
HESEUNG
his favorite part of the day, especially after a very long day of work, is definitely coming home to you.Â
he loves to wrap his arms around your form and kiss you softly as a greeting before even speaking. he loves to rush towards you as soon as you open the door in the slightest.
his world totally collapses around him when you dare to dodge his kiss.
mind you, not only his world but his heart too. it drops to his stomach when he tries again and you just do it again.Â
his stares at you for a moment. you watch his face slowly fall in a sad frown while you fight the urge to let out the loudest laugh ever.Â
âare you mad at me?â the bambi lookalike of a man asks you. it would be like his eyes would grow even sadder and bigger the longer you stay silent, âdid i do anything wrong?â
and his voice is so softâ softer than ever due to the tiredness. you sigh fond noises instantly:Â
you hold his face softly, as if he was a porcelain doll. âno, hee,â you kiss his pretty nose. âit was just a joke.â
he doesnât leave you alone afterwards.
JAY
he knows as soon as he sees the malicious look in your eyes.
âgive me a kiss,â he tries to be as intimidating as possibleâ but he has to bite his inner cheek to not smile too widely.Â
he leans in, you lean away. his hand on the middle of your back presses your body against his own.Â
his soft lips peck your cheek when he tries to kiss you again and you turn your head away.
therefore, the man opts for anything he can kiss instead. his kisses fall against your face like raindrops on a summer night, wet and refreshing. his kisses everywhere soft jaw and gentle neck makes you giggle.Â
âjay,â you chuckle. your boyfriend embraces your waist, tight, ânoââ there is a giggle from you again. âstop, it tickles.â
of course, he doesnât listen and you swear his kisses get even wetter by the second. a loud âmwah!â escape from his mouth whenever his mouth finds your skin.Â
his entire weight rests on you whereupon your back hits the couch, âgive me a kiss.â
you laugh while you try to get him off, âokay, okay.âÂ
he leaves a loud smooch on your mouth.
JAKE
calmly laying on your back, the soft cushions underneath you, your fingers massage your boyfriendâs hair.Â
his head rests on your chest, like a puppy. the way he hums as you move your fingertips tells you that he is so close to drift off and you think he is too calm to not bother a bit.Â
you decide that you will start by progressively stopping playing with his hair. the weight of your fingers on his laps gets lighter, and he slowly fully wakes up as it does so.Â
when you completely stop, he lifts his huge puppy eyes to youâ his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he was a kicked puppy.Â
you pick a confused expression to put on your face, tilting your head slightly to the side before whispering, âwhat?âÂ
your boyfriend doesnât respondâ and because he is obviousâ you can already predict his next move.Â
he gets his lips closer to yours and you do the same. they are almost touching before you pull away by one centimeter.Â
then, you pull closer again, to kiss him he thinks, before doing the same. over and over.Â
it doesnât last before he just whines and hides his face in the crook of your neck.Â
SUNGHOON
âi am not kissing you,â you state to him. his face's enthusiastic expression drops to a confused frown. âi hope you know that.â
it seems like he is processing the thought of what you just said while you stare at him, arms crossed under your chest. it also seems like the thought never really crossed his mind.
âyou are not?â he asks, as if to be sure. you shake your head. âbut, why?âÂ
from the couch, you stare at him. he stands tall, well dressed, his hair are beyond gorgeous and he smells too good to be staying indoors.Â
he is fully ready to go, really, if it wasnât for his goodbye kiss.
âyou remember last time?â you question. continuing when he starts to smirk. âyou were late to work: again.â and you add, just so it goes through his thick skull. âbecause we ended up making out.âÂ
you swear, he canât just keep his hands to himself for more than one second and it always ends up in a disaster.Â
he is still grinning when he talks again, âokay,â he holds his hands in surrender, before putting them behind his back. âsee, not touching you.âÂ
he takes a step closer to you and bends over to put his face, approximately, at the same level as yours, âjust one kiss.â
(it ends up not being just one kiss.)Â
SUNOO
his hand flies to his heart as soon as you jump away from him.Â
to your defense, you werenât even aware of any sort of presence close to you, and who even just waits behind someone for a kiss.Â
you cover your face with your hands, your eyes grow wideâ just as melodramatic as the utterly shocked face on the surface of his face.
when shock wears off, a laugh resonate right from deep in your chest, âiâm so sorry,â you tell, reaching for his hands.Â
âleave me alone,â he mutters, even though he gladly lets you pull him closer to you. âi donât want a kiss anymore.â
you giggle, his voice has no bite in it. you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and gets on your tiptoes to be able to plant a kiss on your loverâs cheek.Â
you peck him several times, one kiss after the other, his pouty demeanor slowly fading.Â
his smile is felt on your lips when you kiss him on the mouth like he was longing for.
JUNGWON
âcâmon,â he tells you, almost pleading with you.Â
you are not mad nor annoyed at him, but you like to make him work a little to get what he wants.Â
âleave me alone,â you tell him back, pushing him away in the slightest to get out of the kitchen.Â
he doesnât let you go very far anyway, holding your wrist and pulling you right back where you were standing a few moments prior.Â
you try to get out of his grip but this man just fights back, âstop!â you chuckle as you try to kick his knee and he dodges it.Â
he somehow succeeds in catching both of your wrists to pull you in his embrace and wraps his biceps around your form. his blonde hair brushes on your skin as he leans closer to you.Â
you lean the most far you can, but he stills captures your lips with his.Â
you think he fought hard enough for what he wants, so you relax in his arms and smooch him back.
RIKI
this boy doesnât really react when you refuse to kiss him for someâvery annoying and stupid, he would qualifyâ reasons. he just lets it slide, surprisingly smoothly, to your surprise.Â
what you are not aware of is that he thinks about it for days, weeks even, at night. looking for the day he can do the same to you.
because, yes, your boyfriend is petty like that.Â
so here you are, going in for a kiss. the boy looks at you, waiting for you to be a little close. enough to feel his breath on your mouth.Â
he swipes his head away when you almost reach him.
âare you serious?â you huff, incredulously and he ignores you. narrowing your eyes, you stare at him before shrugging, âfine.âÂ
he looks at the other with his arms crossed and a sulky demeanor until he realizes you are actually not going to kiss him again.
âwait no,â he turns to you, holding your arm to get your attention. âi was joking, come back.â
ă
€đă
€ă
€đ taglist open
#â đ âĄâ ćœèżâđ â #enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen reactions#enhypen scenarios#enhypen soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#enhypen fanfiction#enha#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha drabble#enha imagines#enha reactions#enha scenarios#enha soft thoughts#enha soft hours#enha fanfic#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jongseong x reader#jake x reader#jaeyun x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#riki x reader#ni ki x reader
670 notes
·
View notes
Text
FOR YOU, ALWAYS | CL16
an: this was a request! i loved wiritng it and now i love the idea of historical romance prince!charles, thank you for requesting it đ also i listened to experience by ludovico einaudi the entire time i wrote this
summary: charles has always hated his life, he thinks, he doesnât know really. but then he meets someone, she challenges him, she makes him try and all of a sudden he knows what he wants.
wc: 12k
The grand dining hall of the ChĂąteau de Monte Carlo was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through its ornate windows. Prince Charles of Monaco sat at the long mahogany table, his jaw tight as his parents, the Sovereign Prince and Princess, laid out their expectations with the weight of unshakable certainty.
"You must understand, Charles," his mother said, her voice poised yet firm, "a union with Princess Evelyn of England is not merely desirableâit is necessary. The alliance could strengthen our position in ways you cannot yet fully grasp."
His father leaned forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the table. "This is not a matter of choice. You are the crown prince. Your duty outweighs any personal hesitation."
Charlesâs fingers tightened around the stem of his untouched glass. âAnd what of my life? Am I to simply be a pawn in your political games?â His voice was calm, but a sharp edge lay beneath the surface.
His motherâs gaze softened slightly, though not enough to dissuade her resolve. âYou are the oldest, my son. The weight of the crown has always been yours to bear. This... is part of that burden.â
He didnât argue further, though every fibre of his being resisted. Instead, he rose, offering a clipped bow. âIf youâll excuse me.â
Moments later, Charles pushed open the heavy doors to his private chambers, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. His temples throbbed with the remnants of the conversation, and he felt the weight of his parentsâ expectations settling heavier than the crown he would one day wear.
Inside, the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention. The servant girlâher name unknown to him, as it was meant to beâwas smoothing the fresh sheets over his bed. She froze upon seeing him, her hands faltering mid-motion.
âYour Highness,â she said quickly, dipping into a small, practised curtsey. âI didnât realise you were returning so soon. Shall I leave and return later?â
He waved a hand absently, stepping toward the settee by the window. âNo. Stay. Finish your work.â
She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his face, then back to the task at hand. He sank into the settee, his head tilting back against the carved wood as he let out a heavy sigh.
âDo you ever wonder,â he began, his voice soft yet tinged with frustration, âwhy some of us are given so much freedom, yet chained in ways that others cannot see?â
She paused, her hands gripping the edges of the linen she had just tucked in, unsure if the question was meant for her.
When she did not answer, he looked at herâtruly looked at herâfor the first time in a long while. Her expression was guarded, her posture poised, as though expecting reproach. âYou can speak freely,â he said, a rare hint of gentleness colouring his tone.
Her lips parted slightly, then closed again before she carefully responded, âI think, Your Highness, that even those with freedom often long for something else.â
He smiled faintly, though there was no humour in it. âSomething else,â he echoed, the words hanging between them like a challenge to a fate he could not escape.
She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand, smoothing the sheets in swift, precise movements, as if afraid that lingering would invite trouble. Charles, however, was not done with the conversation.
âAnd what would you long for?â he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with curiosity. âIf you could have⊠anything?â
Her hands stilled, though she didnât lift her gaze. âIt doesnât matter, Your Highness. People like me donât waste time with such thoughts.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
The firmness in his tone made her look up briefly, her eyes meeting his for the first time. They were dark, unyielding, yet not unkind. She hesitated, as though weighing the consequences of speaking too openly.
Finally, she murmured, âI suppose⊠Iâd long for choice. To decide my own path, no matter how humble.â
Charles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. âChoice,â he repeated, almost to himself. âThe one thing Iâve never had.â
She blinked at his words, her brow furrowing in confusion. He noticed the look and gave a soft, bitter laugh.
âYou think I have everything, donât you?â he asked, gesturing vaguely at the opulence surrounding them. âAll this, and yet Iâm to marry a woman Iâve never met. Smile on command. Produce heirs like some stud horse for the dynasty.â
âYour Highnessââ
âSpare me,â he interrupted, raising a hand. âIâm aware I sound insufferable. Poor me, the prince in his gilded cage.â
The corners of her mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile threatening to appear, though she suppressed it quickly. âI wouldnât dare say so, Your Highness.â
âAnd yet youâre thinking it,â he said, leaning back against the settee, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. âGo on. Youâve already said more than most would dare. Speak freely.â
She hesitated, then, emboldened by his unusual mood, offered carefully, âI think⊠itâs easier to envy a cage when itâs lined with silk.â
Charles let out a bark of laughter, surprising them both. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter.
âTouchĂ©,â he said, shaking his head. âPerhaps I deserve that.â
She resumed her work in silence, and he watched her, his mind turning over her words. There was a simplicity in her presence, a quiet sense of purpose that felt like a reprieve from the endless demands of court life.
As she moved to leave, her task completed, she paused by the door. âYour Highness,â she said, her voice tentative.
He glanced up, his expression expectant.
âSometimes⊠cages are only as strong as we believe them to be.â
Before he could respond, she slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughtsâand the echo of her words, which refused to leave him in peace.
The words haunted Charles for days. Cages are only as strong as we believe them to be. They played on a loop in his mind, following him from morning meetings with ministers to the hollow dinners with his parents, where talk of his engagement to Princess Evelyn consumed every conversation.
By the third day, he relented. Not to the sentiment behind her words, but to the reality of his life. Duty, it seemed, would always triumph over desire. He formally agreed to the arrangement in a cold meeting with his father, his voice devoid of emotion as he signed the papers that would announce his betrothal to the world.
That evening, restless and seeking solace, he ventured into the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the warm air, yet they brought him no comfort. The paths, so meticulously maintained, felt as constricting as the marble walls of the palace.
The crisp evening air offered a solace the grand halls could not. He strolled along the manicured paths, his mind still heavy with the decision he had made, when movement near the servantâs entrance caught his eye.
It was her.
She was dressed simply, carrying a basket as she slipped through the narrow door at the edge of the palace walls. For a moment, he simply watched her, a sudden curiosity flaring to life. Then, before reason could temper him, he followed.
She moved with purpose, her steps quick as she crossed the gravel path leading to the servantsâ gate. Charles kept his distance, careful to stay within the shadows. The sound of the gate creaking open carried through the still night, and he quickened his pace.
âWait,â he called softly as the gate began to swing shut behind her.
She spun, startled, her hand flying to her chest when she saw him. âYour Highness!â she whispered, her tone panicked. She glanced around quickly, as though expecting someone to appear from the darkness. âWhat are you doing out here?â
âI saw you,â he said simply, his voice low, âand I followed.â
Her expression shifted from shock to alarm. âYou shouldnât have. If anyone sees you out here with meââ
âThey wonât,â he said firmly, stepping closer.
âBut if they doâŠâ Her voice dropped further, almost a plea. âIâll be dismissedâworse. Do you know what theyâd do to me for leaving the palace grounds with the prince?â
He stared at her, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than despair. âPlease,â he said, the word escaping him softly but with undeniable weight.
Her eyes widened at his uncharacteristic vulnerability. She shook her head, taking a step back. âNo. I canât. I wonât.â
âIâm not ordering you,â he said quickly. âIâm asking.â
For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly racing. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled the cloak from her shoulders and thrust it toward him.
âFine,â she said, her tone sharp but her movements careful as she draped it around him. âIf anyone asks, youâre my cousin visiting from the countryside. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.â
Charles nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. âUnderstood.â
She turned and began walking quickly down the narrow dirt path beyond the gate. He followed, cloaked in her simple, worn garment, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the fabric.
They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights of a small village came into view. She turned onto a side lane, leading him to a tiny house at the edge of town, its thatched roof weathered but charming.
âThis is it,â she said, her voice clipped as she gestured to the modest dwelling.
He stared at the house, a stark contrast to the palace he called home. âYou live here?â
âYes,â she said, clearly defensive. âItâs small, but itâs mine. No one tells me what to do when Iâm here.â
He didnât respond, too busy taking in the details: the flower boxes beneath the windows, the faint glow of a single candle in the window.
âNow youâve seen it,â she said, her tone impatient. âYou should go back before someone notices youâre missing.â
But Charles shook his head. âNo,â he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the little house. âNot yet.â
Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. âYou shouldnât have come in the first place.â
âPerhaps not,â he admitted, finally looking at her. âBut now that Iâm here⊠I canât imagine wanting to leave.â
She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she sighed again, softer this time.
âFine,â she said, stepping toward the door. âBut if anyone asks, I donât know why youâre here, and I definitely didnât bring you.â
She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cautious glance behind her. Charles followed, ducking slightly to avoid the low wooden beam over the doorway. Before she could say a word, a voice called from inside.
âBack already? I thought youââ
The voice cut off as a man, younger than Charles but older than the servant girl, appeared from the far corner of the small room. He froze, his sharp blue eyes flicking between her and the prince. âWhat in Godâs nameâŠâ
âDamn it!â she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. âI thought you were working the late shift at the docks tonight!â
âI was,â her brother said, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. His rough shirt and patched trousers bore the telltale marks of dock workâsalt stains and grime clung to the fabric. âBut the shipment was cancelled. Now you tell me why the bloody prince of Monaco is in our house. Did you kidnap him?â
âKidnap him?â she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. âDonât be ridiculous. He followed me!â
Charles, for his part, seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion. His gaze wandered over the small room with childlike fascination, taking in the chipped table, the cracked ceramic plates stacked neatly in the corner, and the patchwork curtain separating the single sleeping area. He paused to admire a string of dried herbs hanging near the hearth, as though heâd never seen anything so fascinating.
âYour Highness,â the brother said, stepping in front of him with an awkward, hesitant bow. âI mean no disrespect, but do you⊠do you need me to call someone? Or are you in danger?â He looked over his shoulder at his sister. âAre we in danger?â
âNo one is in danger,â Charles replied, his voice calm. He turned to her brother with a polite nod. âThank you for your concern. Iâm here of my own accord.â
The girl pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. Meanwhile, Charlesâ eyes landed on a wooden crate near the wall, and before either sibling could stop him, he lowered himself onto it. The crate creaked but held, and he leaned back with a sigh, a serene smile spreading across his face.
The girl spun on him, her exasperation bubbling over. âWhat are you smiling about?â
He looked up at her, his expression earnest, almost boyish. âItâs beautiful.â
She blinked. âWhat?â
âHere,â he said, gesturing around the room. âItâs so cosy. Everything has its place. Itâs warm, lived-in⊠peaceful.â
Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. âYou call this beautiful? Your palace is five hundred times the size, and you think this isââ
âI know what my palace is,â Charles interrupted, though his tone held no irritation. âCold. Grand. Silent. This⊠this feels alive.â
She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. For a moment, she didnât know whether to laugh or scold him. âItâs a shack,â she said finally, her voice softer but still tinged with disbelief.
âMaybe,â he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. âBut itâs your shack. And itâs more honest than anything Iâve ever known.â
Her brother exchanged a glance with her, his expression suggesting that he thought the prince might have lost his mind. She only shook her head, sighing heavily as she walked to the table and placed her basket down.
âThis is a mistake,â she muttered to herself.
âPerhaps,â Charles said, still smiling, âbut itâs the best mistake Iâve made in a long time.â
She busied herself unpacking the basket, placing a few withered carrots, a handful of potatoes, and some crusty bread onto the table. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Charles with wary eyes.
âIf youâre staying, Your Highness,â she said, her tone clipped as she focused on the food, âI hope you donât mind scraps.â She hesitated, then glanced at him. âAnd you canât tell anyone at the palace that I take the extras. Theyâdââ
âDismiss you,â Charles finished, his voice soft. âI wonât tell. You have my word.â
She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and began peeling the potatoes. Her hands moved deftly, her brother stepping in to fetch water from the small barrel near the door. Charles sat quietly on his makeshift chair, watching the two of them work in a rhythm.
âDo you need help?â he asked after a moment.
Her brother let out a short laugh, but she only shook her head without looking up. âNo, Your Highness, but thank you for the offer. I imagine peeling potatoes is beneath you.â
âNot everything is beneath me,â he replied, and while his voice was carrying a hint of dry humour, there was some seriousness to it.
She didnât respond, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into a battered pot over the small fire. Soon, the room filled with the simple, comforting aroma of soup.
When the meal was ready, she placed three mismatched bowls on the table and ladled out the steaming broth. She set one in front of Charles without ceremony, then handed one to her brother before sitting down herself.
Charles took a tentative sip, and his eyes widened slightly. âThis is excellent.â
Her brother snorted. âItâs boiled scraps, mate. You must really have it rough if you think this is fine dining.â
âMax,â she warned, shooting her brother a glare.
Charles chuckled, dipping a chunk of the crusty bread into the soup. âMaybe itâs not fine dining,â he admitted, âbut it tastes real. Honest.â
Her brother rolled his eyes but said nothing more, focusing on his meal. The three of them ate in relative silence, the tension in the room easing slightly as the warmth of the food spread through them.
When the bowls were empty, she cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly on a small shelf. Charles leaned back, his contented smile returning as he watched her move about the room.
âYou should go,â she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. She didnât turn to face him.
His smile faltered. âI donât want to.â
Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed tidying the table. âYouâve seen what you wanted to see. This is my life. And you⊠you have your own life waiting for you back there.â
Charles stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. âI suppose youâre right,â he said softly.
She walked toward the door, not meeting his eyes as she grabbed her cloak and gestured for him to follow. Her brother gave Charles a long, unreadable look as he rose to leave, but he said nothing, only shaking his head as the prince ducked back out into the cool night air.
They walked in silence down the dirt path, the lights of the palace glowing faintly in the distance. When they reached the servantsâ gate, she stopped and turned to him, keeping her eyes on the ground.
âThis is where we part ways,â she said firmly.
He took a step closer, and when she looked up, she saw something in his expressionâgratitude, yes, but something deeper, too. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. He held it for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her calloused fingers.
âThank you,â he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. âFor the soup. For everything.â
Before she could respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was brief, but it sent a wave of warmth up her arm, leaving her stunned.
He stepped back, releasing her hand, and gave her one last look before slipping through the gate and disappearing into the shadows.
She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty path, her heart racing for reasons she couldnâtâor wouldnâtâname.
The next few days at the palace dragged on in a monotonous blur for Charles. His mornings were filled with tiresome meetings about the engagement, his afternoons with rigid etiquette lessons to prepare for public appearances with Princess Evelyn. Every second felt like a tightening noose around his neck.
Finally, the day came for him to meet her. Princess Evelyn of England arrived with her entourage in an ornate carriage, her entrance every bit as grand as expected. She was perfectly polite, perfectly poisedâand, to Charles, perfectly insipid.
They sat across from each other in one of the palaceâs many drawing rooms, chaperoned by a small battalion of attendants and his ever-watchful parents. She spoke at length about her family lineage, her charity work, and her plans to modernise court life, but her words washed over him like a stream of lukewarm water.
When it was his turn to speak, he managed only the barest pleasantries. He was certain she noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but if it bothered her, she gave no indication.
By the end of the meeting, he felt more drained than he had in years. As she curtsied and left the room, he caught his motherâs pointed glare, but he ignored it.
Before she could say anything to him, he glanced at the ornate clock on his wall. It was nearly the same time as the day she would be fluffing the pillows on his settee. A peculiar sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.
Without a second thought, he made his way to his bedroom. As he opened the door, his eyes immediately fell on her.
She was there, as if summoned by some unspoken wish. She was standing by the settee, her back to him as she carefully fluffed the pillows. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, and entirely unlike the flurry of maids bustling about elsewhere in the palace.
A slow smile spread across his face.
âPerfect timing,â he said loudly, causing her to jump slightly.
She turned, clutching the pillow to her chest. âYour Highness!â she said, startled. âIâ I can come back later ifââ
âDonât bother,â he interrupted dramatically, throwing himself onto the bed with a theatrical sigh.
She froze, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, as he sprawled across the silk covers, one arm flung over his face.
âLet me tell you about the most dreadful afternoon of my life,â he groaned.
Her brow furrowed as she set the pillow back in place. âThe dreadful afternoon where you met the woman youâre going to marry?â
âPrecisely,â he said, sitting up slightly to gesture at her. âYou understand my plight already.â
âI understand youâre being ridiculous,â she replied, smoothing the cushions on the settee.
âRidiculous?!â he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. âDo you know what she said when I asked her about her favourite pastime?â
âI donât,â she said flatly, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.
âShe said,â he continued, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, âOh, I do adore embroidery. Thereâs something so meditative about it.â
She stared at him. âThat⊠doesnât sound terrible.â
He sat up fully now, gesturing emphatically. âDoesnât sound terrible? Itâs horrific! What am I to do with someone who finds stitching flowers onto fabric the height of excitement?â
âYou could try embroidery yourself,â she suggested dryly, unable to resist a small smirk.
He narrowed his eyes at her. âVery funny. No, what I need is someone who⊠who challenges me. Someone with fire.â
She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to the pillows.
âInstead,â he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, âIâm shackled to a walking lesson in decorum.â
The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted the settee. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable.
âMaybe,â she said carefully, âyou should spend less time thinking about what you donât like about her and more time figuring out what youâre looking for.â
Charles opened one eye to glance at her. âAnd if what Iâm looking for isnât an option?â
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, she shook her head and turned back to her work.
âThen you make do,â she said simply.
He watched her for a long moment, his chest tightening inexplicably.
âIs that what you do?â he asked softly.
She paused but didnât turn around. âEvery day, Your Highness.â
Without another word, she grabbed her items and walked out, softly closing the door behind her.
Charles had barely settled back on the bed, still pondering her cryptic answer, when the door to his chambers burst open.
His younger brother, Arthur, strode in, his golden hair slightly dishevelled and a boyish grin plastered across his face. âCharles! I just saw herâthe princess of England. Sheâs⊠stunning. Gorgeous. A masterpiece, really. You lucky bastard.â
Charles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. âArthur, must you always barge in uninvited?â
Arthur ignored him, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of the velvet chairs near the fireplace. âI mean it. If I were you, Iâd have proposed on the spot. Did you see her eyes? Like polished emeralds.â
âSheâs⊠fine,â Charles muttered, his tone flat.
âFine?â Arthurâs voice rose in mock indignation. âBrother, Iâd trade places with you in an instant.â He leaned forward, his grin widening. âWhat is it? Not enough excitement for you? Too⊠proper?â
Charles sat up, his expression exasperated. âIf you find her so attractive, Arthur, marry her yourself.â
Arthur laughed, clearly amused by the suggestion. âOh, if only it worked that way. But alas, you are the crown prince. The heir. The one who gets the girl and the throne, while Iâm left to look charming at parties.â
Charles shook his head, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldnât help but wonder how different his life might be if the roles were reversed. Could Arthur really be happy living a life of obligation, of gilded cages and loveless arrangements?
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the servant girl. Her small house, her laughter with her brother over bowls of soup, the way she moved through life with an independence heâd never known.
âWhat would it be like,â he murmured, almost to himself, âto marry someone who isnât royalty? Someone who isnât bound by these ridiculous rules?â
Arthur blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, loud and incredulous. âAre you out of your mind?â
Charles turned his head sharply, fixing his brother with a challenging look. âIâm serious. What would it be like to marry a commoner? To live a life free of all this⊠pomp and pretence?â
Arthurâs laughter faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. âYou are mad. Do you have any idea what that would mean? The scandal? The uproar? Father would have a fit. Mother would faint on the spot. And the people? Theyâd riot.â
âWould they?â Charles asked, his tone calm but insistent. âOr would they understand? Would they respect a prince who chose love over duty?â
Arthur shook his head, a faint sneer creeping into his expression. âYou donât know what youâre saying. A prince doesnât marry a milkmaid or a seamstress. Itâs not a fairytale, Charles. Weâre not⊠like them.â
The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
âNot like them,â Charles repeated softly, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. âAnd what exactly does that mean?â
Arthur hesitated, then shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. âIt means we have a responsibility. A legacy to uphold. Marrying into royalty isnât just traditionâitâs survival. You think Father and Mother arranged your engagement for fun?â
Charles didnât respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind churning. Arthurâs words grated against something deep within him, something that longed to push back against the boundaries of their carefully constructed world.
âMaybe,â he said finally, his voice low, âthe legacy isnât worth the cost.â
Arthur stared at him, his disbelief giving way to concern. âCharles⊠youâve been spending too much time alone. Or worseâreading poetry again. Get your head out of the clouds, brother. This is your life. Learn to accept it.â
With that, Arthur rose, clapping Charles on the shoulder before striding toward the door. âAnd if you wonât,â he added with a grin, âIâll gladly keep the princess company. Youâre a fool not to appreciate her.â
The door closed behind him, leaving Charles alone in the echoing silence of his chambers.
But his mind wasnât silent.
It churned, restless and defiant, filled with images of a life he might never know.
The chill of the autumn night bit at Charlesâs skin as he hurried along the winding path toward the small house. A week had passed, and though he told himself repeatedly that it was improperâfoolish, evenâhe couldnât shake the gnawing thought of her.
He hadnât seen her since their last conversation in his chambers. Every day without her had stretched longer than the last. No wry comments while she smoothed the wrinkles from his sheets, no gentle jabs at his dramatics.
The house appeared before him, small and humble against the starlit sky. Light peeked through the cracks in the shutters.
He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.
The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the dim light. The moment she recognised him, her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.
âYour Highness!â she whispered fiercely, pressing her back against the door as though to block the outside world. âAre you out of your mind? Iâll be hung if they find you at my door!â
He tried to smile, though he knew she was right. âI havenât seen you all week.â
Her expression turned exasperated. âThatâs not a valid reason to sneak out of the palace, Prince Charles.â
âIsnât it?â he countered lightly, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed the truth of how much heâd missed her.
Her sigh was heavy with frustration, but something softened in her gaze. âYou shouldnât be here,â she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier sharpness. She moved away from the door, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.
It was then that he noticed the redness around her nose, the slight rasp in her voice.
âYouâve been ill,â he said, stepping closer.
âItâs nothing,â she replied, waving him off as she moved toward the small kitchen space. âA cold. Happens every year when the weather turns. Iâll survive.â
âYou shouldnât have to,â he said quietly, glancing around the room.
âLife doesnât wait for the sniffles,â she said with a faint smirk, though her movements were slower than usual as she reached for a bowl.
âThen let me help,â he said, surprising both of them.
She turned, raising an eyebrow. âYou? Help? What do you know about cooking?â
âAbsolutely nothing,â he admitted, grinning. âBut Iâm an excellent student.â
She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether to humour him. Finally, she handed him a knife and motioned toward a small pile of vegetables. âFine. Peel those. Try not to cut yourself.â
He took the knife gingerly, studying the carrot as if it were a puzzle. She chuckled softly, the sound warming the small space, and stepped beside him to show him the proper angle for peeling.
The next hour passed in a flurry of quiet laughter and careful instructions. He fumbled with the knife, his first attempts earning teasing remarks from her, but he improved quickly under her guidance. Together, they chopped, stirred, and seasoned until the small pot on the stove began to bubble with a fragrant stew.
As they worked, the conversation drifted.
âYouâre better at this than I expected,â she said, handing him a spoon to stir.
He smiled. âCareful. If you keep complimenting me, I might come back for more lessons.â
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. âCooking isnât glamorous work, Your Highness. Itâs just⊠survival.â
âMaybe,â he said, his tone thoughtful, âbut thereâs something⊠grounding about it. It feels real.â
She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. âYou really hate that palace life, donât you?â
He didnât answer right away, instead focusing on the steady motion of the spoon in the pot. âI donât hate it,â he said eventually. âItâs just⊠hollow. Every decision is made for me. Every word is calculated. I donât know who Iâm supposed to be in all of it.â
She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. âYouâre lucky, though,â she said softly. âEven if itâs hollow, you have a place. A name. People like me⊠weâre just the shadows keeping the fire alive.â
He stopped stirring, her words settling heavily in the space between them. âI donât think thatâs true,â he said after a moment.
She tilted her head, her expression sceptical. âNo?â
âNo,â he said firmly. âYouâre more than that. Youâre clever. Strong. Independent. You see things I never could.â
She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.
âThatâs what I like about you,â he added softly, almost without thinking.
The words hung in the air, and he froze, realising too late what heâd said.
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the pot on the stove.
His own face burned as he fumbled for something to say, but nothing came. The silence stretched on, heavy and charged, until she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.
âYou should taste the stew,â she said, not looking at him.
He stepped forward, dipping the spoon into the pot and taking a tentative sip.
âItâs perfect,â he said, his voice softer now.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she still didnât meet his gaze.
The evening deepened, the chill of the autumn air seeping through the thin walls of the small house. Charles noticed her slight shiver as she ladled the stew into two mismatched bowls, the threadbare shawl around her shoulders doing little to shield her from the cold.
He stood abruptly, unfastening the clasp of his heavy cloak. She turned to look at him, startled, as he stepped behind her and draped it gently over her shoulders.
âWhat are you doing?â she asked, pulling the thick fabric around herself instinctively.
âYouâre cold,â he said simply, sitting back down and picking up his bowl.
She hesitated, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. âBut youâll freeze without it.â
âIâll be fine,â he replied with a small smile. âIâve survived colder nights, army and all of that.â
The warmth of the cloak seemed to envelop her, and she relaxed slightly, sitting down across from him. For a moment, they ate in silence, the quiet clinking of their spoons the only sound.
When their bowls were empty, Charles glanced around the modest room, noticing for the first time the lack of a hearthfire.
âDo you light a fire at night?â he asked, though he already suspected the answer.
She shook her head. âCanât afford firewood,â she said matter-of-factly, collecting their bowls. âItâs not so bad. We manage.â
âOh,â was all he managed to say, though the thought of her and her brother enduring nights in such cold unsettled him deeply.
She didnât seem to notice his reaction, busying herself with tidying up.
Later, as he prepared to leave, she hesitated by the door, holding his cloak out to him.
âTake this back,â she said softly.
He pushed her hand gently back toward her. âKeep it,â he insisted. âFor tonight.â
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped, the words faltering. Finally, she nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric.
âThank you,â she said, her voice almost a whisper.
He smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the night, the chill biting at him instantly as he made his way back to the palace.
She played with the royal clasp of his cloak as he left and wondered what her life would be like if she wasnât just a servant and he wasnât the Crown Prince of Monaco.
No less than a few days later, her brother barged into the small house, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards.
âWhy,â he began, his voice loud and incredulous, âis there monthsâ worth of firewood outside the house?â
She looked up from where she was patching a worn-out scarf, distracted. âWhat are you talking about?â
âThe firewood,â he repeated, gesturing wildly toward the door. âThereâs a mountain of it, just sitting there! Did you rob a lumberyard?â
She frowned, setting down her work and walking to the door. When she stepped outside, her eyes widened at the sight of the neatly stacked pile of firewood by the side of the house.
âI⊠I donât know,â she stammered, completely bewildered.
It was then that she noticed a small slip of paper tucked into the top of the stack. Pulling it free, she unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar, elegant hand.
Keep warm â C
Her cheeks flushed, and a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Her brother leaned over her shoulder, reading the note. âC?â he asked suspiciously. âWhoâs C?â
She folded the note quickly, tucking it into her apron pocket. âNo one,â she said, avoiding his gaze.
Her brother narrowed his eyes but didnât press further, shaking his head as he muttered something about princes and their peculiarities.
She was fluffing the pillows on the freshly made bed when the door to the princeâs chambers swung open. Charles strode in, his expression lighting up the moment he saw her. Without hesitation, he leapt onto the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce that sent a pillow tumbling to the floor.
âYouâre back!â he exclaimed, grinning. âAnd youâre better!â
âAnd you just ruined the bed I made.â she chided but then moved on to adjusting a vase on the side table. âWell I must say, a lit fire at night changes a whole lot.â
He froze for a fraction of a second, then sat up, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug. âOh? A fire, you say? Thatâs⊠good to hear. Fires are quite helpful, Iâm told.â
Her smirk widened. âIâm sure someone told you that.â
âPerhaps,â he said, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. âBut weâre not here to discuss firewood logistics, are we?â
She rolled her eyes, walking around the room to dust the mantel. âThen what would you like to discuss, Your Highness?â
He sighed heavily, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. âThe princess of England.â
She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. âOh?â
âI have to meet her again,â he groaned. âAnother tea, another tedious conversation about fabrics or her needlework or some other mind-numbing topic. I swear, Iâd rather duel blindfolded than sit through it.â
She snorted, biting back a laugh. âBlindfolded? Thatâs a bit much, donât you think?â
âNo,â he said, peeking at her from under his arm. âItâs perfectly reasonable.â
âOf course it is,â she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. âBecause whatâs more reasonable than a prince skewering himself just to avoid small talk?â
He sat up, clutching his chest theatrically. âYou wound me, madam. Truly, your lack of sympathy is cruel.â
She gave him a sidelong glance, shaking her head as she set the duster aside. âYouâre insufferable, you know that?â
âIâve been told,â he replied, grinning.
She turned back to the mantel, but when the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression soft, his eyes warm and intent.
Her brow furrowed. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
He blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. âI wasnât looking at you.â
âYou absolutely were,â she said, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look.
âNo, I was⊠thinking,â he said, his voice a touch too casual.
She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. âThinking about what?â
âAboutâŠâ He scrambled for an answer, then pointed toward the bed. âAbout how well you made this bed. Truly impressive. Best Iâve ever seen.â
She rolled her eyes again, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. âRight,â she said, picking up her duster. âWell, Iâll leave you to your very important thinking, then.â
He watched her go, his chest tightening as the door clicked softly shut behind her.
Over the next few days, Charles found himself increasingly distracted. Whether strolling through the palace gardens or enduring another tiresome tea with the princess, his thoughts invariably drifted to her. The way her wit kept him on his toes. The quiet determination in her movements. The occasional flicker of softness beneath her sharp remarks.
It was maddening.
When he was near her, he found excuses to linger. When she wasnât around, he searched for her without realising it. And as much as he tried to push the growing ache in his chest aside, he couldnât deny what was happening.
Heâd fallen for her.
It was late afternoon when he returned to his chambers after a gruelling diplomatic meeting. To his delight, she was there, dusting the intricate carvings on the wooden frame of his bed. She didnât notice him enter, humming softly to herself as she worked.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing his throat.
She jumped, spinning around to face him, clutching her duster like a weapon. âDo you have to sneak up on me?â
âItâs my room,â he said, smirking. âI can hardly sneak into my own space.â
She scowled, turning back to her work. âYouâre insufferable.â
âSo youâve said,â he replied, stepping further into the room. âBut you keep coming back. Perhaps Iâm growing on you.â
âI come back because itâs my job,â she retorted, moving to dust a nearby shelf.
He followed her, leaning lazily against the furniture. âA job you seem to excel at. Though I wonder⊠do you enjoy tormenting me as much as I enjoy tormenting you?â
She shot him a sharp glance, but the corner of her mouth twitched. âSomeone has to keep your ego in check, Your Highness.â
He chuckled, reaching out to pluck the duster from her hand. âYou do it so well,â he murmured, his voice low.
Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned closer, her eyes darting to his before flicking away. âYou should stop doing that.â
âDoing what?â he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from hers.
âWhatever it is youâre doing,â she said, stepping back slightly, only to find herself against the edge of the shelf.
The tension in the air was palpable, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish.
A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.
âCharles?â his brotherâs voice called from the hallway.
Panic flared in her eyes, and Charles acted on instinct, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the large wardrobe at the side of the room.
âWhat are youââ she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips as he opened the wardrobe door and ushered her inside.
The space was small, barely enough for the two of them. She pressed herself against the back wall as he stepped in, closing the door behind them.
The darkness was absolute, and the only sound was the quiet shuffle of their breaths.
âStay quiet,â he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
A beat passed, and she whispered back, her voice laced with frustration, âIf we get caught, itâll be my neck, not yours.â
âNo oneâs getting caught,â he murmured, his voice low and steady.
In the confined space, his hand brushed against hers, and he froze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers moved to her face. His touch was light, tentative, as though he feared she might vanish at any moment.
His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, brushing against her skin with agonising slowness. Her breath hitched, and in the silence, it felt deafening.
âWhy are youâŠâ she began, but her voice faltered as his fingers brushed the line of her jaw, lingering there for a moment before sliding to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
âYouâre trembling,â he whispered, his voice barely audible.
âYouâre too close,â she replied, though her tone lacked conviction.
The faintest smile curved his lips, though she couldnât see it in the dark. âYouâre not stopping me,â he said softly.
Before she could respond, his brotherâs voice echoed from the other side of the room. âCharles, where are you?â
He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. âStay still,â he murmured, his hand still cradling her cheek.
She closed her eyes, the tension in the small space suffocating and electric all at once.
Footsteps receded as his brother left the room, grumbling something about missing him.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Charles let out a slow breath, his hand dropping from her face. He opened the wardrobe door slightly, letting in the dim light of the room.
âSafe,â he said quietly, stepping back to let her out.
She stepped past him, her cheeks flushed and her breaths uneven. âYouâre reckless,â she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she hurried to gather her duster.
He smirked, leaning against the wardrobe door. âAnd youâre adorable when youâre flustered.â
She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.
âGet back to work, Your Highness,â she said, her tone sharp but her voice unsteady.
He chuckled softly, watching her go.
The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Charlesâs chambers, painting golden streaks across the plush rug. She was there again, this time at his desk, meticulously polishing the brass handles of the drawers. She worked with the same quiet efficiency she always did, her movements steady, purposeful.
Charles, reclining lazily on the settee, had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. In truth, heâd barely turned a page. His attention was drawn, as it so often was these days, to her.
He cleared his throat, drawing her attention. âHave you ever taken a moment to rest?â
She glanced at him briefly before returning to her task. âI rest when my work is done.â
âAnd when is it done?â he pressed, setting the book down and rising to his feet.
She didnât answer immediately, her focus still on the brass handle in her hand. âWhen your chambers sparkle, Your Highness.â
He chuckled, stepping closer. âIt already sparkles. Youâve polished this desk so many times I can see my reflection.â
She huffed softly, clearly unimpressed. âThereâs still dust.â
He reached out, his hand gently brushing hers as she gripped the cloth. She stilled, her breath catching as his fingers lingered over hers.
âYouâre relentless,â he murmured, his voice low.
Her eyes flicked to his, wide and uncertain. âAnd youâre in my way.â
He smiled, his expression teasing but his gaze intent. âIâm rarely in anyoneâs way. Itâs a novelty.â
She tried to step back, but he moved with her, closing the distance between them. âWhat are you doing?â she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
âObserving,â he said, his voice soft, warm, as if he were sharing a secret. âYouâre endlessly fascinating to watch, you know.â
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but he reached out, gently tilting her chin so sheâd meet his eyes again.
âYou shouldnât say things like that,â she said, her voice shaky.
âWhy not?â
âBecauseâŠâ She faltered, her lips parting as she searched for words. âBecause you shouldnât.â
He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding her chin. The air between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them dared name.
âYouâre trembling again,â he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles.
âIâm not,â she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.
âYou are,â he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw in the lightest of touches.
Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. âThis is dangerous,â she managed, though her tone was weak.
âFor you?â he asked, tilting his head slightly. âOr for me?â
She couldnât answer, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
His hand moved, the backs of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, then down to her neck, where his thumb rested lightly against her pulse. He felt it hammering beneath his touch and smiled softly, almost as if he were marvelling at it.
âYou feel it too,â he said, his voice low and intimate, as if the world beyond this moment didnât exist.
She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she finally pushed lightly at his chest. âYou⊠need to stop.â
For a moment, he didnât move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he stepped back, though the tension in the air lingered like a storm about to break.
She turned away quickly, grabbing her cloth and pretending to busy herself with the desk again, though her hands shook so much she nearly dropped it.
âIâm sorry,â he said softly, the sincerity in his voice stopping her in her tracks.
She didnât turn back to him, but she nodded slightly, her voice quiet. âDonât do it again.â
But neither of them believed that.
That night the crackle of the fire in the grand drawing room filled the silence as Charles poured himself another glass of brandy. His younger brother lounged in the chair across from him, a glass already in hand.
âYouâve been distracted lately,â Arthur said, swirling his drink. âEven more so than usual.â
Charles leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. âHave I?â
Arthur arched an eyebrow. âYou spent half of tea with the English delegation yesterday staring at the window. Iâm pretty sure they could have declared war, and you wouldnât have noticed.â
Charles chuckled, though it lacked his usual mirth. He stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight.
âArthur,â he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
His brother tilted his head, curious. âWhat?â
âWhat would you think of⊠being the next heir to the throne?â
Arthur blinked, then laughed, loud and incredulous. âWhat, youâre not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?â
âNo,â Charles said, shaking his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. âThen why would you ask that?â
Charles swirled his drink, his gaze distant. âJust⊠wondering.â
Arthur snorted, leaning back again. âAbdicating is social suicide. If youâre even entertaining the thought, Iâd advise you to stop immediately.â
Charles stayed silent, his thumb brushing idly along the rim of his glass.
The quiet stretched, and Arthur froze mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table with a sharp clink. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped. âYouâre not thinking of abdicating⊠are you?â
Charles didnât respond right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire.
âCha,â Arthur pressed, his voice rising slightly. âWhat the hell is going on with you? Whoâs put this absurd idea in your head?â
Charles glanced at him, his expression inscrutable. âItâs not absurd.â
âIt is when youâre the crown prince of Monaco,â Arthur snapped, sitting up straighter. âYouâd give up everythingâpower, privilege, our familyâs legacyâfor what? A whim? A fleeting fancy?â
âItâs not a fancy,â Charles said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.
Arthur blinked, taken aback by his brotherâs rare flash of anger. âThen what is it?â
Charles leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring hard at his brother. âWhat if I told you itâs something real? That Iâve found somethingâsomeoneâwho makes me feel more alive than anything this throne ever could?â
Arthurâs jaw dropped slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. âYouâre serious.â
âDeadly serious,â Charles said, his tone firm.
Arthur exhaled, running a hand through his hair. âThis isnât just about a servant, is it?â
Charlesâs head shot up, his eyes narrowing. âHowââ
âPlease,â Arthur said, waving a hand. âYou think I havenât noticed? The way youâve been sneaking out, the looks you give when you think no oneâs watching? The firewood? Youâre an open book.â
Charles leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. âI underestimated you.â
âAnd youâre underestimating the chaos youâd cause,â Arthur shot back. âDo you have any idea what this would mean for the family? For Monaco?â
Charlesâs expression hardened. âFor once, Iâm thinking about what it would mean for me.â
Arthur stared at him, the firelight casting shadows across his face. âYouâd walk away from all of this?â
âIf it meant being with her?â Charles said, his voice soft but resolute. âYes. I would.â
The weight of his words settled over them, and for once, Arthur didnât have a quick retort.
The next few days were torturous for Charles. Each moment stretched longer than the last, his thoughts dominated by her. Every step he took through the palace halls felt meaningless without catching sight of herâher quick smile, her quiet resolve, the way she challenged him without fear.
He thought of her words, her laughter, the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her. More than that, he thought of the way she made him feelâseen, understood, even cherished in a way that no title or crown could replicate.
His heart ached with the weight of it, with the need to tell her, to unburden himself of the truth that had taken root so deeply he couldnât ignore it anymore.
But how? How could he look her in the eye and admit what he was so sure would unravel the tenuous balance between them?
One morning, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace gardens. It was the time of day she often brought fresh linens from the storage to the castle, she usually crossed the gardens. He lingered, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Frustrated, he returned to his chambers, pacing the space restlessly, thinking. No, waiting to next see her. When she finally arrived, carrying a tray of fresh tea and biscuits, his breath hitched.
âYouâre pacing,â she said, placing the tray on the table. âThatâs never a good sign.â
âIâve been restless,â he admitted, stopping mid-stride. âAnd youâre late.â
She raised an eyebrow as she set the tea. âDidnât know I was on your schedule.â
He crossed the room to her, his steps deliberate. âI notice when youâre not here.â
Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed arranging the tea things. âIâm just a servant, Your Highness. Surely you have better things to notice.â
âThatâs not true,â he said, his voice dropping.
She looked up at him, her expression guarded. âIt should be.â
He wanted to argue, to say it wasnât her place to decide what mattered to him, but the vulnerability in her gaze stopped him. Instead, he changed the subject.
âHave you eaten today?â
She frowned, clearly caught off guard. âWhy do you ask?â
âBecause Iâd wager you havenât,â he said, stepping closer. âYou work yourself to the bone.â
She shrugged, turning back to her task. âIâm used to it.â
âThatâs not an answer,â he said, his tone softer now. âCome. Sit with me for a moment.â
She hesitated, glancing at the door. âIf someone seesââ
âNo one will,â he said, moving to pull a chair out for her. âPlease.â
Her eyes darted between him and the chair before she sighed, giving in and sitting reluctantly.
He poured her a cup of tea, his movements unhurried. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and he felt the now-familiar spark that always seemed to follow her touch.
âYou donât have to do this,â she said quietly, looking down at the tea.
âDo what?â
âTreat me like Iâm someone,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper. âSomeone important.â
His chest tightened. âYou are.â
She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and something elseâsomething that made his breath catch.
For a moment, he thought about saying it, about laying it all out before her. But the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the fear of what her reaction might be.
The next day, Charles found himself waiting for her in his chambers again, anticipation thrumming through him. When she arrived, her arms full of fresh linens, he immediately noticed the faint circles under her eyes.
âYouâre overworking yourself again,â he said, standing from his seat near the window.
âIâm fine,â she replied, her tone brisk as she moved to change the bedding.
âYouâre not,â he countered, moving closer.
She straightened, turning to face him. âWhy do you care?â
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.
âBecauseâŠâ He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. âBecause you matter to me.â
Her lips parted, her breath catching. âCharles, donâtââ
âIâm not trying to overstep,â he said quickly. âBut you should knowâI canât ignore it anymore.â
âIgnore what?â she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. She stepped back instinctively, breaking the moment.
Over the next few days, he was quieter, more pensive. He found himself watching her more often, the words he wanted to say always on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth, the weight of the risks stopped him.
What if she didnât feel the same? What if she did, but couldnât say so?
The questions tormented him, each one drawing him closer to the inevitable conclusion: he had to tell her.
But how could he make her understand the depth of his feelings without ruining everything?
Charles really tried to wait it out, he tried so hard.
But when the rain lashed outside his chambers where he sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.
He worried.
It was late, far later than when she usually came, but he had waited, a knot of tension in his chest.
When the door finally opened, and she stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, drenched from the rain with his laundry in a covered basket, his heart leapt.
âYouâre soaked,â he said, standing quickly. âYou shouldnât be out in this weather.â
She shrugged, setting the basket down by the door. âWork doesnât stop for a storm, Your Highness.â
He frowned, crossing the room to her. âTake off that cloak; youâll catch your death.â
âIâm fine,â she said, brushing past him toward the hearth, but her shivering betrayed her words.
He moved closer, pulling her gently toward the warmth of the fire. âWhy do you always insist on pretending youâre fine when youâre not?â
She stiffened under his touch. âBecause I have no other choice.â
Her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her cold fingers. âYou shouldnât have to live like this.â
She pulled her hands back, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and caution. âWhat do you mean?â
âI meanâŠâ He hesitated, his heart pounding. âI canât keep pretending. Not anymore.â
âPretending what?â she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
âThat I donât feel this,â he said, stepping closer. âThat I donât feel everything for you.â
Her eyes widened, her breath catching. âCharlesâŠâ
âI love you,â he said, the words tumbling out, raw and unguarded. âIâve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but I canât. I donât want to.â
Before she could even stop them, tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, stepping back. âYou donât mean that. You canât.â
âI do,â he said firmly, closing the distance between them again. âIâd give up everythingâthis title, this lifeâif it meant being with you.â
Her tears spilled over then, and she covered her mouth with her hand. âDonât say that. Donât even think it.â
âWhy not?â he asked, his voice breaking. âIf Iâm not happy hereâif I canât have the life I wantâwhat good is any of this?â
âBecause you donât know what youâre saying,â she said, her voice rising. âYouâve lived in a palace your entire life, with servants, banquets, comfort. You donât know what itâs like to live without it. To go to bed on an empty stomach. To wake up not knowing if youâll have work the next day. I canât do that to you.â
âYou wouldnât be doing it to me,â he said desperately. âIt would be my choice.â
She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. âAnd what happens when you realise you canât live like that? When the reality of it sets in? Youâll resent me. And Iâll lose you.â
âYou wonât lose me,â he said, his voice pleading as he reached for her hands again. âI swear to you, you wonât.â
âI donât have a good life,â she whispered, her voice trembling. âI can barely take care of myself. How could I take care of you?â
âI donât need you to take care of me,â he said, his hands tightening around hers. âI just need you. I donât care about the rest.â
She looked at him, her eyes searching his, her tears glistening in the firelight. âYouâre asking me to believe in something that feels impossible.â
âThen let me prove it to you,â he said, his voice breaking as his own tears threatened to fall. âPlease. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Let me love you the way you deserve.â
Her resolve wavered, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She wanted to believe himâdesperatelyâbut the fear of what they would face, of what they would lose, loomed over her.
âChaâŠâ she began, her voice cracking.
âPlease,â he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. âSay yes. Just⊠say yes.â
For a long, agonising moment, the only sound was the rain pounding against the windows and the crackle of the fire.
âI donât know how to do this,â she said finally, her voice barely audible.
âThen weâll figure it out together,â he said, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. âBut donât push me away. Not now. Not when I know you feel this too.â
Her lips quivered, and she closed her eyes, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. âYouâre impossible,â she whispered.
âAnd youâre everything,â he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.
After pacing around his room for a few days, thinking of how he was going to tell his father, Charles went to his study.
The atmosphere in the kingâs study was heavy with tension, the air almost crackling as Charles stood before his father. The older man sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his expression dark and unreadable. The storm that had raged days earlier seemed to have shifted inside these walls, centering on the room as if the universe sensed the coming conflict.
âI need to speak with you,â Charles began, his voice steady but tight.
The king set down the pen he had been holding, his gaze sharp. âThis sounds serious.â
âIt is,â Charles replied, straightening his shoulders. âIâve made a decision.â
The king leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. âI see. Go on, then.â
âIâm going to abdicate.â
For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the room.
Then, the kingâs expression darkened further, his voice sharp and incredulous. âYouâre what?â
âIâve decided I donât want the throne,â Charles said firmly. âItâs not the life I want anymore.â
The king rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he loomed over the desk. âDo you even understand what youâre saying? What youâre throwing away?â
âYes,â Charles said, meeting his fatherâs gaze without flinching. âIâve thought about thisâmore than you know. I donât want this life. I wantâŠâ He hesitated, his voice softening. âI want to live my own life.â
The king scoffed, shaking his head. âAnd what life would that be? One of obscurity? Of poverty? Youâve never gone a day without comfort, without privilege. You know nothing of what itâs like out there, and you think you can just⊠give all of this up?â
âI do,â Charles said, his tone resolute.
The kingâs eyes narrowed. âThis is about her, isnât it? That servant girl. Your mother mentioned her but I did not believe her.â
Charlesâs chest tightened, but he didnât deny it. âYes. Itâs about her. But itâs also about me. About what I want, who I want to be. And I know I donât want this.â
âDonât be a fool,â the king snapped, his voice rising. âYou think love is enough to sustain you? That some fantasy of a simpler life will keep you warm when reality sets in? She canât give you what you need, Charles.â
âShe gives me what I want,â Charles shot back, his voice fierce. âAnd for once, isnât that enough?â
âNo, it isnât!â the king roared, slamming his hand on the desk. âYouâre a prince! You have a dutyâto your family, to your people. You canât just walk away because of some fleeting infatuation.â
âItâs not fleeting,â Charles said, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. âI love her. And Iâd rather live a life with herâwhatever that looks likeâthan spend one more moment pretending to be happy here.â
The king laughed bitterly, shaking his head. âYouâre naĂŻve. You donât even know how to survive out there.â
âSheâll teach me,â Charles said, surprising even himself with the certainty in his voice. âI want to learn. I want that lifeâwith her.â
The king stared at him, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. âYouâre throwing away everything youâve ever known for a life of struggle. For what?â
âFor love,â Charles said simply.
The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The king finally sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, his expression was weary but no less stern.
âYouâre making a mistake,â he said quietly.
âMaybe,â Charles replied. âBut itâs my mistake to make.â
The kingâs lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze searching his sonâs face as if looking for a crack in his resolve. But Charles stood firm, his decision made.
âYouâll regret this,â the king said finally, his voice heavy with warning.
âPerhaps,â Charles said. âBut Iâll never regret choosing her.â
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father staring after him in silence.
The rumours spread like wildfire. Whispers followed Charles wherever he walked, his every step trailed by servants and courtiers exchanging furtive glances and hushed speculations. The air in the palace buzzed with the shock of his decision, but none of it mattered to him. Not the disapproval etched into his fatherâs face, nor the incredulous murmurs of the courtiers. His mind was focused solely on her.
He found her in the palace laundry room, folding linens with the quiet efficiency that always seemed to calm her. When he walked in, she froze, her fingers clutching the corner of a sheet.
âYou,â she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. âYou really went through with it?â
He stepped closer, his hands tucked behind his back, his face calm but his eyes alight with purpose. âI told you I would.â
She stared at him, shaking her head. âI thoughtâCharles, I thought it was just talk. Something youâd get over once you realised how insane it is.â
âWell, Iâm officially insane,â he said with a faint smile, stepping closer.
She dropped the sheet onto the table and turned to face him fully, her arms crossed. âDo you have any idea what youâve done? The crown, the throne, your entire futureâitâs gone. All of it. For what?â
âFor you,â he said simply.
Her mouth opened, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. âYouâre impossible. Do you know what this means? I canât work here anymore, not if you abdicate. The palace wonât keep me.â
âI know,â he said gently. âAnd I wouldnât ask you to stay here. Weâll leaveâtogether.â
âLeave?â she echoed, blinking at him.
âYes,â he said, stepping closer until he was just in front of her. âIâve been thinking about it. We can go somewhere no one knows us, where we can start fresh.â
She stared at him like heâd grown another head. âWhere would we even go?â
âItaly,â he said with a small smile.
âItaly?â she repeated, her brows furrowing.
âYes, maybe Marenello,â he said, his voice filled with conviction. âItâs beautiful, the weather is perfect, and⊠I donât know, it just feels right.â
She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. âCharles, I donât even speak Italian.â
He tilted his head, his smile widening. âThen, for once, Iâll get to teach you something.â
His words hung in the air, so tender and unexpected that she couldnât help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her reaction, and before she could say anything else, he stepped even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. âYouâre serious about this,â she whispered.
âCompletely,â he murmured against her hair. âIâm not afraid of starting over, not if itâs with you.â
For a moment, she let herself believe it could be possibleâthis crazy, impossible dream of theirs.
âWhen?â she asked softly.
âTomorrow,â he said, his voice full of quiet resolve. âAfter I sign the abdication papers.â
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes. âAnd then what?â
He smiled, his expression both calm and full of determination. âAnd then we start the life weâve always wanted.â
She didnât want to be vulgar, she really didnât but she had to be honest.
She was shitting herself at the thought of being summoned into the Kingâs office with the entire family.
The office was uncharacteristically quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the palace muffled by the thick doors. Charles sat at the massive oak desk, the official abdication papers spread out before him. Arthur stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of bewilderment and unease while his parents stood by the desk with a clear look of disdain etched on their faces.
She stood near the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked smaller than usual, her nerves evident in the way her fingers twisted together. Her wide eyes darted between Charles and the papers, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.
Arthur broke the silence first. âAre you sure about what youâre doing, Cha?â
Charlesâs pen hovered over the signature line, but he didnât answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at her. She met his gaze, and in that instant, the rest of the room faded away. The worry in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together as if she was holding back wordsâit was as if he was falling in love all over again.
âYou donât have to do this for me, Cha,â she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He smiled at her, then, without hesitation, he bent his head and signed his name in bold strokes across the paper.
The moment was electric, the scratch of the pen on parchment the only sound in the room. When he finally set the pen down, it felt as if the world had shifted, as if something monumental had been set into motion.
Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. âWell, there it is,â he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and resignation. âYouâre officially insane.â
Charles stood, his movements deliberate as he turned to face her. âGo back to your house,â he said, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. âPack your things. Tell your brother. Weâre leaving at six.â
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could say a word, Arthur muttered something about needing air and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, his parents following shortly behind.
The silence that followed was thick with tension, their gazes locked as the gravity of what had just happened sank in.
âYouâŠâ she began, her voice trembling. âYou really did it.â
âI did,â he said, stepping closer to her.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, he cupped her face gently in his hands. The world seemed to pause, the space between them charged with an intensity that neither of them could deny any longer.
And then he kissed her.
It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savouring the moment he had dreamed of for so long. But when she leaned into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself, the kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of everything they were about to face together.
When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.
âI love you,â he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.
She blinked, her eyes shining as she searched his face. âI love you too,â she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Because she did, she didnât know when she exactly fell in love with him. Maybe it was when he first came to her house and looked at it with wonder rather than judgement or maybe it was when they shared that intimate moment in the wardrobe.
He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek. âThen go,â he said. âPack your things. This time tomorrow, weâll be miles away from here. Together.â
She nodded, her resolve strengthening as she stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned and slipped out of the office.
Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of what heâd just done settling in his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt truly free.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#charles leclerc x female oc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 one shot#cl16 fic#cl16 x y/n#cl16 fanfic#ferrari formula one#ferrari formula 1#ferrari#ann speaks#ann talks#prince charles leclerc
496 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mystery man
Logan Sargeant x Piastri!Reader
summary: Oscar's sister has a mystery man
(a/n: its short and sweet, its not my favourite but I'm getting back in)
Masterlist / TipJar
ynpiastri
liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, yourbsf and 3,758 others
ynpiastri Alexa play a generic song about loving your hometown
view all 492 comments
oscarpiastri omg you went back home, why did you tell me
ynpiastri why would I tell you, you donât live here ⊠hattiepiastri She told me ynpiastri Yeah because you live here! oscarpiastri woww hattiepiastri move home , England doesnât love you like we love you
yourbsf I ask you one question about mystery man and you fly across the world away from me
ynpiastri the motherland was calling me yourbsf you ran hattiepiastri myster man ?? ynpiastri oops sorry on a plane home again
oscarpiastri
liked by logansargent, ynpiastri, landonorris and 1,745,096 others
oscarpiastri To monaco thank you for a P2. To my sister thank you for spending the entire weekend showing my crew my baby photos. That was hugely appreciated (I hate you)
view all 29,926 comments
user omg which sister
user I think YN user Which on is YN I get confused?! user YN is the oldest of his 4 younger sisters user thank you ! <3
ynpiastri Youâre welcome mr âIâm a carâ
oscarpiastri I despise you ynpiastri I love you too big brother x
logansargeant they get better each time I see them
oscarpiastri you saW THEM TOO? logansargeant yn showed me the whole album oscarpiastri Iâm dead
user I want to see baby Oscar!,
ynpiastri hold on Iâll post them soon oscarpiastri waIT
ynpiastri
liked by yourbsf, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 3,922 others
ynpiastri Me FT baby older brother and logie
view all 459 comments
oscarpiastri take this down
ynpiastri why oscar, youâre so cute logansargeant why oscar, youâre so cute oscarpiastri no take it down iâll tell mum ynpiastri mum is in my likes, sheâs not going to do anything oscarpiastri bully
yourbsf you look angelic
ynpiastri why thank you lovely yourbsf so who is mystery man hattiepiastri who is mystery man sis ynpiastri nope no man
user you look amazing
user how does she know logan?
user she met him through oscar
yourbsf
liked by ynpiastri, hattiepiastri, and 369 others
yourbsf On and off the grind. Waiting for YN to stop giggling at her phone
view all 29 comments
ynpiastri i was not giggling
yourbsf no sorry, you weren't yourbsf you were heavily flustered ynpiastri objection your honor
hattiepiastri who is he sis
ynpiastri there is no one yourbsf hattie, please help
logansargeant
liked by ynpiastri, oscarpiastri, yourbsf and 878,362 others
logansargeant A classic Piastri-Sargent mess around
view all 41,002 comments
user not the new girl reference!
user they are such a cute couple user i dont think they are dating, they are just friends user they would be cute oscarpiastri no
ynpiastri we slay
logansargeant i draw the line at slay ynpiastri not a slay
oscarpiastri wow replacing me
logansargeant always ynpiastri always, the better piastri hattiepiastri hey! ynpiastri sorry sorry, but oscar sucks
user logan and the pUPPY
ynpiastri
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbsf and 4,250 others
ynpiastri Grind, Pose, Logan
view all 249 comments
logansargeant this is horrific why
ynpiastri its cute user i love yn using her feed for just intermittent mugshots of oscar and logan ynpiastri isn't it just amazing
user what is she studying?
user fashion marketing i think user oh thats so cool user she must be so creative and smart liked by logansargeant
yourbsf friday 9pm. you & me. talk
ynpiastri omg why am i scared ynpiastri mum? help? yourbsf we are talking about mystery man oscarpiastri hmm hattiepiastri facetime me in
oscarpiastri
liked by ynpiastri, landonorris, logansargeant and 1,993,520 others
oscarpiastri Madien win with celebrations. Not celebrating when I accidently found out news I did not want to hear
view all 76,242 comments
user aww thats so cute is that him and lily
user noo lily wasnt there user yn, his sister, was....
ynpiastri take that down before hattie sees
hattiepiastri YN!!! oscarpiastri too late ynpiastri heyyy hattiepiastri Oscar, you know who mystery man is?? oscarpiastri Yup, how much is this information worth to you
logansargeant Oscar not you exposing your sister
oscarpiastri I have exposed no relationship. Just threatened user this is the best sibiling interaction user i live for this
yourbsf you lied!
ynpiastri no i just spun the truth yourbsf ynnnnnnnn oscarpiastri talk to me
ynpiastri
liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf, hattiepiastri, and 5,259 others
ynpiastri Siblings amirite. oh and a hot man
view all 202 comments
yourbsf this is one unhinged caption and soft launch
ynpiastri so i succeeded yourbsf i love that you are soft-launching a relationship that I know, that Oscar knows and also your entire family ynpiastri is it a soft launch when you consider how long I've been planning this oscarpiastri wait, How LONG?!
hattiepiastri no because congrats
hattiepiastri it makes sense yourbsf it does
user is that logan?
user you are so crazy for that (i think it is) user piastri-logan taken to a new level liked by logansargeant
yourbsf
liked by ynpiastri, hattiepiastri, and 401 others
yourbsf fashion school photo dump
view all 30 comments
ynpiastri its a love hate relationship
yourbsf it is a tough relationship ynpiastri we love the pain
hattiepiastri i need you see you guys
ynpiastri we'll see you soon hattiepiastri hows your mans ynpiastri ill debrief you outside of a comment section
logansargeant
liked by ynpiastri, oscarpiastri, and 1,420,553 others
logansargeant Piastri-Sargent mess around, but its revealed I'm mystery man and i love this piastri variant
view all 40,250 comments
ynpiastri not you spoiling my soft launch plan
ynpiastri I had a whole photo album for it logansargeant I am so sorry sweetheart ynpiastri you are forgiven lovely oscarpiastri gag, get it off my feed user omg hard launch of the century user it is perfect
oscarpiastri actutally thank you for just getting your silly slow reveal over with because i would not have kept that secret for long
ynpiastri have some self control user oscar is so relatable logansargeant you are welcome, brother-in-law oscarpiastri nope absolutely not logansargeant you are welcome, soon to be brother-in-law
hattiepiastri awww so cute
ynpiastri ikrrr oscarpiastri hmm iâm feeling protective ynpiastri thereâs a lot you donât wanna know oscarpiastri ew hattiepiastri ew logansargeant ew ynpiastri logie? logansargeant i just wanted to fit in
ynpiastri
liked by logansargent, hattiepiastri, yourbsf and 5,001 others
ynpiastri finally i can post my man. 1 year baby
view all 982 comments
yourbsf a YEAR?
yourbsf betrayal ynpiastri nooo don't leave me yourbsf next starbucks is on you ynpiastri deal
oscarpiastri logan. 1 year. you've been dating my sister for a year
logansargeant doing more than dating ynpiastri LOGAN oscarpiastri dead man hattiepiastri dead man
user aww they are so perfect
user piastri-sargent, the perfect pair
logansargeant i love you pookie
ynpiastri poooookie!! user omg oscarpiastri i am deactivating my account
#social media au#social au#f1#formula one#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula one x reader#f1 fluff#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x piastri!reader#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant fanfic#logan sargeant smau#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant x you
658 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do You Believe in Fate? s.jy
ăpairingă : childhoodbestfriend!jake x afab!reader
ăsynopsisă : read the preview here
ăword countă : 15.3k
ăgenreă : A lot of angst, smut, somewhat fluff, college au
ăwarningsă : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! cursing, lot of nicknames, mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, hangover, poor mental state, kissing, cuddling, alcoholism, toxic friends (not jake), teasing, crying, begging, distress, groping (consentual), unprotected sex, pulling out, loss of virginity, lowkey size kink, oral (m and f recieving), titty sucking, sharing a bath tub, mentions of hospitalizations, implications of potential death, depression. this is a repost
ăauthors noteă : i want to thank everyone for motivating me to finish this story and writing this was truly an experience that will effect me as a writer moving forward. i am tagging all of my mutuals so hopefully i could get some feed back! i love every last one of you
ătaglistă : @jakeflvrz - @simhinata - @eternality - @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby - @jakesangel - @yjwsgf - @diorsyun-deactivated20241118 - @en-ner-jay - @yeonzzzn - @hoonieesm - @hoonheepretty - @jaysupremacy - @cherry-park - @heeslomll - @alvojake - @taeghi - @dollyyuen - @sumzysworld - @wonsbaer - @simpjay - @sjylouvre - @starboimoon - @blurryriki - @yzzyhee - @sincerelyrki - @hoonven - @heeseungsbm
It was the summer before me and Jakeâs junior year of university. We have been working all summer and itâs another other day at the office. Putting in check information for the bank was a lot more boring than I expected . Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat. There was no time to do anything else. We were always told that if we went to college, we would have a good job. That proved to be wrong.Â
Both Jake and I are going through college together, though he landed a way better paying job than I did. When it comes to bills, he ends up having to pay more than me, but he swears up and down that it is not a big deal.
I set down my mug. I hear my phone ring. Itâs Jake. âHello?â he should be at work. âHey Pumpkin, I got out early today, were there any groceries that we needed?â
âOh, no I canât think of anything.â Â âOkay, Stay safe, I will see you later.â
Jake never really got time off of work but when he did, I usually tried to stay out of his hair and let him relax. I just continued to run reports, pretty much twiddling my thumbs until the clock struck 5 and I would make my way out of this hell hole.
Traffic was terrible as usual. A usually 7 minute drive turned into an hour. Days like this I just want to get home and throw all my stuff on the ground and lock myself away in my room. Maybe watch some TV. Or listen to some music while my computer is hooked up to it. Anything that distracts from knowing I have to go back to the job I hate the next day. My thoughts are interrupted by a honk coming from behind me. The light turns green. Thank God. But as soon as I pull away from the curb, a car pulls out in front of me. Damn those stupid drivers. I donât even know how many times this month Iâve had to pull over so they could let someone pass. It isnât worth getting into a fight with them about. I try to ignore them.
I made it back to our house just in time for the sun to still be out. I made way into the house and Jake was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sight. His after work routine typically consists of cracking open a cold one and playing his computer. âHey princessâ he greeted me.
I stand at the front door, taking off my shoes and hanging my keys on the rack. âWhat has you in a good mood all of a suddenâ I ask suspiciously.
âWell since I got off work early, I figured iâd come home and suprise you with dinner since you just been eating so much take out recentlyâ he replied nonchalantly. The thought makes me sick. âYou didnât need to do that Jake.â âOh yes, I did. You havenât been cooking for yourself for a couple months now. I wanted to show you how much your best friend cares about youâ he says.
Reguardless of what I say, the food is made and there is no taking it back. I guess I canât really argue with him over it.
âAnd besides, I know you have missed your mom cooking pasta for us when we would go to her house in Australia, I figured I should make some do you insteadâ he adds.
I slowly approach the table. He is still finishing up plating everything. He looks up at me and smiles. âIt smells goodâ I say flatly. He takes off the oven mitts and wipes his hands on it. He sets my plate down in front of me and he pulls out the chair to my right and takes a seat.
âSo how was your day Jake?â I asked awkwardly. He starts digging in and responds, âNot too bad. What about yours?â
âSame shit different day. Boss is always yelling at me and the company keeps treating me like garbage even though I am the only one who actually gives a fuck.â I complained, eating a piece of garlic toast. It tasted good, surprisingly good, considering the amount of spices he used.
âWell I am glad itâs Friday so you can take some time to unwind over the weekendâ he attempts to comfort me but at this point iâm too tired.
âI guess.â I poke at my food a little bit. Why does Jakeâs job seem so perfect? he easily makes twice as what I make and I rarely hear him complain about working either.
âYou donât have to eat if you donât want to, I am not going to force you.â I guess Jake noticed me being hesitant about eating the rest of my meal.
âItâs not that I donât want to eat itâs just that Iâm really stressed and I donât want to keep you here listening to me complain about the same things over and over againâ
âLook at meâ he said. I slowly lift my head for my eyes to meet with his. âI promise I will never get tired of listening to youâ he reassured.
There he goes again, sending those butterflies flapping in my stomach. I donât understand why he is so gentle and compassionate. It gives me goosebumps. I decide I might as well stop procrastinating and start enjoying the evening. âThank youâ I say, giving him a small smile. His face immediately lit up. Itâs kind of cute. The rest of dinner went rather smoothly. Jake kept the conversation going, mostly talking about my day and what his was about, and then we would drift off into silence. He looked so relaxed and calm that I felt completely at ease. Even if I knew I should feel bad for keeping him up with my whining, I couldnât bring myself to.
I stand up from the table and wash my plate. âI donât know if anyone told you today, but you look gorgeous as alwaysâ he sneaks up behind me. âYou donât look too bad your self Jakeyâ I returned. My face was already a dark hue of red.
I decided maybe tonight I wonât rot away in my room. Itâs a Friday night, Iâll have a little bit of fun. Still inside the house though. It is probably too cold outside anyway. I realize I am still in my work clothes. I return to my room to take them off and throw on my most comfortable pair of shorts and a talk top and take my Nintendo Switch to the living room.
Jake was already waiting there for me. He had a bottle of wine and 2 empty glasses. He looked up when I entered and smiled. I gave a shy smile and sat down next to him. He pulled me closer to him, pressing himself against me. Our legs intertwined under the couch. For a moment I forgot about the work situation and the world. In that moment it just felt nice to sit close to someone who cared for me unconditionally.
âWhat were you wanting to play?â he breaks the silence. âI was thinking we could play some Mario Kartâ I suggested.
âYeah we can, but you already know Iâm gonna kick your assâ. He loves teasing me. I punched his shoulder and chuckled.
~~~~~~~~~~
He is in my bed. I just woke up and he is in my bed. I donât know how to react. Maybe I drank a little too much? I really donât remember anything after playing a few rounds of Mario Kart. He looks so peaceful. His dark brown hair all tangled up on the pillow. The way his biceps look in his black tank top. He doesnât snore, but the way he breathes when he sleeps is very cute. There is a slight hint of stubble on his chin, almost like he hasnât shaved in awhile. His lips are slightly parted. His face shows such contentment and relaxation. He looks so damn beautiful. I have to admit he is pretty attractive and I think he knows it. And I canât help but wonder about what would happen if I leaned forward and kissed him. His soft lips pressed up against mine. I think it would be okay. Probably wouldnât hurt. Scratch that, it would probably hurt a lot.
I woke up surprisingly early for a Saturday morning. Usually I am in bed until noon, but itâs only 9:30. Opposite of me, Jake likes to start his weekends bright and early, so it is a bit strange that he isnât awake by now. I wonât bother him. Itâs probably better this way. I roll over onto my side facing away from him. I close my eyes trying to fall back asleep. But it seems to be impossible. My mind is too preoccupied and Jakeâs body is far too close to mine for my liking. I groan quietly. It doesnât help at all.
I crawl out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jake up. As soon as I step out of the room, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Itâs my mom. I guess I hadnât returned and of her texts last night. She asks if I have slept okay and if Iâve eaten breakfast. When she sees I havenât. She sends me a picture of the last time I was at her house eating spaghetti. âJust eat something sweetheart and take care of yourselfâ she reminds me gently. I sigh deeply before replying. âMhmm thanks momâ I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and rummage through the fridge, hoping to find something appetizing for breakfast. As I search, I can't stop thinking about waking up next to Jake this morning. We've been best friends for so long, but recently I've started seeing him in a new light. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how considerate he is, it stirs up the feelings I've been trying to suppress. I shake my head slightly and settle on making some eggs and toast.
As I cook, memories of last night come flooding back. The wine, the laughter, the gentle way he pulled me close on the couch as we played games. My heart flutters just thinking about how natural and right it felt being cuddled up next to him. But I can't read too much into it. Jake is my oldest friend, he probably sees the intimacy as purely platonic. The sizzle of the eggs brings me back to reality. I quickly plate the food and grab a mug of coffee before heading to the living room. I'll just relax and enjoy this lazy Saturday morning.
I'm about halfway through my breakfast when I hear Jake's footsteps shuffling down the hallway. He emerges, hair sticking up adorably, letting out a big yawn. "Mornin' sunshine," he says with a sleepy grin. I feel my cheeks warm at the nickname. "Morning. I made some extra if you want it," I reply, nodding toward the kitchen. "You're the best." Jake passes over to dish up a plate, giving me a perfect view of his lean back muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. I quickly avert my eyes as he returns to the couch. As he sits next to me, our arms brush and I feel that spark of electricity again.
Jake doesn't seem to notice, just digs into his eggs happily. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks up again.
"That was a fun night last night, wasn't it?" His eyes meet mine with a warm smile. "We'll have to do it again soon." I return the smile, hoping he can't see the longing behind it. "Yeah, it was really nice." Nice to just relax and be ourselves without any expectations or pressures. Nice to feel...that close to him.ââââââââââââââââ
~~~~~~~~~~
Jake has a friend named Jay. When Jake isnât at work or at the house, he is most likely hanging out with Jay. Jay is a go with the flow kind of guy and was kind of a womanizer. Thereâs nothing wrong with it, but I try not to hang out with Jake when Jay is there for that reason.
Jake and Jay always go out for drinks on Saturday nights. I canât remember the last time he was home on a Saturday night and I didnât have to take care of him the next morning. He routinely stays at Jayâs house that night then gets an Uber back here the next morning.
Jake and Jay's Saturday night routine carried on like clockwork most weekends. Around 9 PM, Jay would pick Jake up and they'd head to their usual bar downtown. The two friends would drink heavily, telling outrageous stories and shamelessly checking out any attractive women who passed by.
For Jake, it was just a guys' night out away from work stress. But for Jay, it was a chance to flirt and see if he could add another notch to his bedpost. Jake didn't partake in that behavior himself, but he also didn't reproach Jay for it. He figured it was just Jay's way.
Come last call, the two would be pretty sloshed. Instead of dealing with an Uber that late, Jake would just crash at Jay's place. He'd wake up hungover the next morning and request a ride from a car service back home.
When he arrived home disheveled, I'd already have water and painkillers ready for him. I hated having to nurse him after these nights, but it was better than having Jay's leering presence around me. His constant objectification of women made me deeply uncomfortable. So I put up with Jake's hangovers to avoid that part of their friendship dynamic.ââââââââââââââââ
Jake opens the front door. I can hear him complaining about his headache already. He sets his keys down and immediately lays down in the couch.
"Hey babygirl, where is the aspirin? Do we have any aspirin left?" he asks groggily. A small chuckle escapes my lips before I turn around to look at him, smiling slightly. âI already got it out for you, and here is a glass of waterâ. His eyes are closed as I place the pills in his hand and he smiles once they make contact. âThank you so much for taking care of me princess.â he praises as he shot the tablets into his mouth.
I giggle. This man is ridiculous. A loud yawn escapes his lips and I smile. As much as I hate seeing him like this, I am content with letting him have his fun every once in a while. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, showing off his muscular chest. I look back at his face. His eyes were opened and he noticed me staring.
âWhatâs wrong Princess?â he slurs. âDo I look stupid or something?â âNo Jake, you look greatâ I reply truthfully. âYou just looked a little tired is all.â
Jake rolls over on the couch and turns onto his side. âI know youâre going to tell me I should rest more, but itâs so hard to sleep when youâre not in the same room.â
âReally? You usually fall asleep within seconds. Why is that?â He shrugs. âDonât know babe. Just donât like being alone.â I frown. Thatâs true enough. Jake never really liked being by himself. Ever since we were in diapers, he had always been surrounded by people. His parents, coworkersâŠme.
I decide to ask something rather personal instead. Maybe that will distract us for a while. âHowâs your mom doing lately? Do you miss her?â Jake doesnât respond right away. He starts fidgeting under my gaze. His hands begin picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.
âYeah, yeah. I miss her. I wish she wouldnât be working so much now. She used to work less back when we were high school, you know? I still get worried sometimesâ he answers with a slight edge in his voice. âItâs okay Jake. You know she likes working for your dad. It helps pay for everythingâ I remind him softly. He nods slowly. After a few moments, he finally breaks the silence.
âWhy do you ask?â I guess he was caught off guard by the question. âI know itâs been a while since youâve seen them, Australia isnât in walking distance, ya know.â I try to cheer him up.
He sighs and looks down at the couch. âI guess I just wish I was able to spend more time with her like I did when I was younger. It doesnât matter though.â He shakes his head dismissively. âSheâll come visit whenever she can. Iâm just glad we both decided to live somewhere else for college. I would definitely have missed our family trips.â
âOhâŠâ I bite my lip unsure what to say to comfort him. Heâs always taken his mother very seriously. Even when he was young he often complained that she worked too hard and stressed herself out, which only made him madder. In all fairness, she did work extremely hardâeven harder than he ever could. And now that she has found some semblance of stability, he worries that he wonât be able to provide for her the lifestyle he wanted for her.
I reach out and pat Jake's arm reassuringly. "I know how much you miss your mom. But she's doing what she needs to in order to help take care of the bills and your dad. You know she'd be here if she could."
Jake nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I just wish there was more I could do from here, instead of feeling so helpless being so far away. I know my dad would want me there as well" He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "At least I have you around. Don't know what I'd do. You kinda of bring a feeling of home to me. I hope that made sense.â
I feel my cheeks flush a little at his words. "Well, you know I'll always be here for you," I reply, trying to keep my tone light.
âThank you sweet heart.â
~~~~~~~~~~
Our parents went to University together. Thatâs how they met. My mom met Jakeâs mom in a sociology class, and they have been best friends ever since. Being college bestfriend basically guarantees that your kid will have someone to grow up with, and they took advantage of that. He has litterally been there for every life event my mom felt was important enough to let him in on.
Though we didnât become friends by choice, we were latched onto eachother ever since we were introduced. I remember I would ball my eyes out when even Jake got sick because it meant I couldnât hang out with him after school or have play dates on the weekends. As we grew up, the situations werenât as innocent. I would confide in him when I was upset, and he would hold me in his arms after my nightmares. I even found comfort in him after my numerous hearts breaks in highschool. Though none of my relationships were ever that serious, I was still unmistakably heartbroken.
Jake was never really a ladies man in highschool, or in general. He studied more on acedemics, which I guess was a good idea considering where he is now. Although Iâd never said anything about it, his dating career was pretty dead for several years. In my opinion, it seemed unfair to Jake to not go on dates after highschool. While I understood why he wasnât interested, it seemed a waste not to try. After all, Iâm sure he could get any chick he wanted if he tried, I mean look at him. He had grown from a cute kid playing video games to one who had a perfect body and gorgeous features to match. So yeah, I loved that he was a boy and my friend. But there was no way I could give myself completely to such a man, especially with our history.
Jake is a lot different when Iâm around, a lot more caring and loving. Iâm reminded of all those times when I would find Jake crying when we came back from vacation during our sophomore year, or how he would suddenly appear at my room door at 5am looking for reassurance or help. At the time, I thought it was because he needed someone to talk to about the things troubling his mind, but now that I think about it , itâs kind of obvious heâs lonely. His dad has been in and out of the hospital recently. I donât really want to push Jake into going into detail about his condition because it might make him emotional, but I just know that it is another thing that is weighing on him.
When I first started seeing him more and more recently, I thought maybe he wanted us to become closer friends. I mean, he was always talking about how much he adores spending time with me, and how grateful he is to me for saving him and bringing him back to life. I think the situation with his parents are weighing down on him more than I realize.
~~~~~~~~~~
The rhythmic tapping of rain against the window pane fills the hushed stillness of my bedroom. I lie awake, Jake's sleeping form curled up beside me, his head pillowed on my chest. His eyebrows are furrowed even in slumber, mouth turned down in a soft frown - the worry lines etched across his features never seem to fully fade these days. Gently, I brush some stray locks of hair off his forehead, my thumb tracing over the crease between his brows. Jake's been carrying the entire weight of his family's struggle on those broad shoulders.
A quiet sigh escapes his lips and he burrows deeper into my side, one arm slinging possessively over my waist. We've been a tangle of limbs like this more nights than not recently. After the latest bout of bad news about his dad, Jake sought me out like a man wandering through the desert in desperate need of water. I remember the rawness in his voice as he begged to stay in his room, to be held and comforted, the same way I always have. Whatever Jake needs from me, he'll never be turned away.
Trailing my fingers through Jake's hair, I allow myself to drink in every detail of him in this rare moment of peace. The slight upturn of his perfectly sloped nose. The way his plump lips are parted just enough to allow shallow puffs of breath to ghost across my skin. He really is beautiful in the most masculine, rugged way. Not that I'd ever say that out loud - it would be mortifying if Jake caught me ogling him like some lovesick fool. Then again, I've been a lovesick fool for the better part of a decade when it comes to him.
Lost in the flow of my thoughts, I don't even register the soft snuffling noises at first. It's only when Jake's eyelashes start fluttering that I glance down to find him blinking up at me groggily. Without a word, he shifts until his head is cradled in the crook of my neck, placing a slow, scorching kiss to the exposed skin of the side of my neck.
The world seems to screech to a halt. That...was definitely intentional. Purposefully intimate. There's no way it was an accident or a brief moment of sleep-hazy confusion. Not with the way Jake's pupils are blown wide, his lips parting to reveal the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them instinctively.
Just as quickly as the spark ignited, Jake seems to deflate, burying his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder with a muffled whimper. His hands are fisting in the fabric of my sleep shirt, clutching me with a white-knuckled grip like I'm his lifeline back to the surface. Like if he doesn't hold on, he might drown. "Hey hey heyâŠ" I gently stroke the length of his spine calming him. "You're okay now, everything is alright, relax..." Jake's breathing gradually slows. Gradually, he begins to relax, his fingers slackening their death grip in my shirt.
A few moments pass in silence before he lifts his head and looks directly at me. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from all the crying. Theyâre red and glassy, a stark contrast to his usually flawless complexion. "Sorry," he murmurs. I shrug slightly. "Don't apologize." After a few sniffles, I feel his breathing become more consistent and his face is dry. He starts to do that cute breathing that I talked about. After I realized that he has met some sort of peace and fell asleep, I fell asleep soon after.
~~~~~~~~~~
The morning light filters in through the cracks of my blinds, shining over Jake's sleeping body in a soft glow. My eyes trace the line of his jawbone, the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest as he breathes. He looks so tranquil like this.
Jake smells so fucking good. If I could lay on his chest and take it his scent all day, I really would. Not to mention his face is extremely handsome. He has the face that other guys wish they had. Itâs very obvious he takes care of himself.
I can't stop replaying that moment from last night over and over in my mind. The heat of Jake's lips pressing against the skin of my neck. Part of me was desperate to surge forward then and seal my mouth over Jake's, to finally give in to the magnetic pull that's been drawing me to him.
But I didn't. I couldn't. Because I'm also terrified of what exploring these feelings could mean for our relationship.
Losing him isn't an option I can fathom. And he seemed to make the same choice in that moment by turning away, burying his face against my neck with a whimper that could have been either anguished or relieved.
We're cowards, the two of us. Content to dance around the fire instead of being set ablaze
Part of me wonders if Jake was hoping for something in return. Maybe a kiss? Maybe he did it to show it trust and comfort for me. He knows what he is doing. The moment his lips touched my neck, my whole body shivered. I wanted more but I contained myself.
My body still hums with the memory of his kiss, nerves tingling with equal parts of dread. I want to reach out and trail my fingertips over the golden skin of his forearm, to breathe him in and see if he tastes how I've imagined on my tongue.
How many more moments like last night can I survive before the truth comes out? I don't have the answers. All I know is that I'm still undeniably his - body, mind and heart.
It has been too many nights where I imagine his lips against mine. The way he chills my spine when whispers in my ear makes me crave hearing his voice. I wonder what he would be like in a relationship with me, he treats me like a princess already, I donât know how much better it could get.
My mind drifts to memories of him holding me tight when I was upset, his muscular arms engulfing me in a warm embrace. The feeling of safety and contentment that would wash over me in those moments. If I could experience that every night by his side, it might just be pure bliss.
I fantasize about waking up intertwined with Jake, our legs tangled together as we trade kisses and touches unhurried by the outside world. Combing my fingers through his bed hair while he peppers light kisses along my jawline.
Maybe there could be slowmake-out sessions on the couch, all heated caresses and desperate roaming hands before things inevitably progress further. I would lavish every sculpted line of Jake's body with devoted attention. I imagine he would be an attentive, generous lover, just as giving in the bedroom as he is in every other aspect of his life.
I also canât get over the mental hurdle that maybe it is kind of gross that I see my bestfriend this way. I could easily mistake all of the kind things he does and how he treats me as something more than what he intends it to be, and that would make me uneasy. I have never done anything sexual with him and anything that would imply sexual attraction, yet I am still here wondering what it is like to have sex with him.
~~~~~~~~~~
I really need to get my feelings sorted out soon because they are just going to keep building up until they eventually burst, and I really donât want Jake to witness that.The week went the same again. and again. and again. Wake up, go to work, do nothing after. But recently, Jake got a promotion at his job, which was grounds for celebration.
The local diner is busy with the lunch crowd, the air thick with aromas of burgers sizzling on the griddle and fresh baked pie. Jake and I slip into our usual corner booth, the cracked vinyl cushions molding to our forms like old friends. This place has been our go to spot since we started university here. We've shared so many moments in this very booth over the years. Happy celebrations or acing a big exam.
Which is why the thick tension clouding the air between us right now feels so alien. Instead of our usual easy camaraderie, I can barely look at Jake without my pulse kicking up. The memory of his firm chest brushing mine, those plush lips just a table length away, has my skin flushing hot. I squeeze my thighs together secretly, desperate for any kind of friction to alleviate the slow burn of arousal low in my belly.
Just being this close to Jake is enough to have that want unfolding all over again. Filling my head with flashes of how it could feel to finally give in - his weight blanketing me, our bodies moving together in a sinuous rhythm as his mouth trails searing kisses along my neck. "Hey." Jake's low rumble jolts me out of the vivid fantasy.
"You're zoning out, sweetheart. Everything okay?" My cheeks flame darker, that suddenly seems too intimate. I duck my head, but not before catching the unmistakable smirk curling at the corners of Jake's lips. That insufferable, cocky smirk he knows drives me crazy. I want to kiss it off his stupidly perfect face. Or maybe bite at the sharp line of his jaw, put that arrogant look to better use while I'm straddling his lap and--
"Fine," I mumble, hooking a loose strand of hair behind my ear to avoid meeting Jake's eyes. The small movement causes our elbows to brush together on the tabletop. His skin is so soft. Jake's brow furrows, like he doesn't miss the way I've gone tense and flustered all over again. Before I can blink, his hand is covering mine. Those long fingers tenderly stroking along my knuckles, smoothing over my suddenly clammy skin.
Slowly, purposefully, Jake tugs my hand closer until my palm is cupping his scruffy jaw. I suck in a sharp, shaky breath at the contact, at being able to feel the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against my sensitive skin. Jake holds me there for a moment, those meltingly warm eyes boring into mine like he's trying to read my mind.
Then, in the most tempting act of torture imaginable, Jake presses his lips to my wrist in the barest brush of mouth against pulse point. I swear I could die right then and there. He slowly pulls away, looking up to meet my eyes once again. Our gaze meets, intense and lustful, filled with a hunger that only he knows how to create. This feels so wrong, so dangerous. The fact he's staring down at my lips, licking his subconsciously causes a slight hitch in my breathing. A tiny part of me wants to lean forward and press my lips to his. But I stop the impulse with the thought of what we did last night, and the consequences of getting caught again.
Instead, I let out a sigh and break eye contact before pulling my hand away and placing my elbow on the table. I rub my thumb across my wrist absentmindedly while avoiding Jake's gaze, the words I want to say stuck somewhere inside my throat like rocks. There isn't anything I can do. What I have with Jake is different now. I'm scared shitless to tell him how I truly feel.
"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Jake asks, worry laced into his tone. He places a hand on my thigh, making me jump slightly. âItâs nothing, reallyâ I lied. The server comes over to the table to take our order. âWhat could I get started for you to drinkâ he says.
-
Our meal goes by normally, Jake pretending that he had done nothing earlier. Afterward, we head home, the silence thickening the further into town we get. Thereâs nothing for me to say, no reason to prolong this conversation Iâm dreading anymore. He must sense my sudden change of mood. He drops his arm from around my shoulders and lets his hand fall limply back onto his knee.
We walk silently in the direction of our house. Neither of us speaking. Itâs almost as if weâre both waiting for the other to make the first move. I have an overwhelming urge to turn to him and kiss him.
~~~~~~~~~~
I canât stop thinking about Jake. He is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Over the past few weeks, I feel like he has become a lot more touchy, which donât really mind. He smiles for a little longer when we eat together. We have slept in each others room a lot more often than before. I may just be over analyzing it.
Jake is going out with Jay again. As usual, I donât plan on him coming home tonight, and I will wake up to a hungover Jake. Jay isnât really the friend to take care of you when you feel ill, so that responsibility is left on me.
I hate to admit, but when Jake isnât home for a night, I fight the urge to sleep in his bed. I have been sleeping in his bed with him so often that it leaves me in withdrawal when we arenât in the same bed.
Just being in his room, his scent diffused in the air, it makes me miss him so much more. Even without thinking about the fact that it is his room, the bed is so much more comfortable than mine, which is all the better reason to sleep there.
I walk in, already in my shorts and t-shirt, and wonder around. He has the picture of us that his mom took when we were first leaving for Korea framed on his nightstand.
I pick it up and examine it closely. It is the one photo where we didnât appear stiff. I remember the day clearly; I was standing with him, grinning broadly. I never expected to smile so much when I was young, but my memories of our trip leave a bright happy feeling inside my stomach.
I set the photo back down and I lift the blanket from the corner of the bed. I slide into the bed, laying on his side like I usually do when he isnât here. I instantly melt into the sheets. I scroll on my phone whilst fighting my eyelids to stay awake, but eventually I fall asleep prematurely.
Jake usually keeps his room pretty cool, which calls for cuddling closely under the blankets. In the middle of my sleep, I am shot awake when my cold limbs are instantly warmed by an unexpected sensation. Why was Jake home?
Jake continues to get comfortable under the blanket, not even batting an eye at the fact that I was just sleeping in his bed. I pull him closer by his waist to fulfill the rest of the warmth that my body craves.
âWhy are you shivering sweetheart, you could have turned on the heater.â he worries.
âI wanted the temperature to be tolerable when you got back in the morningâ such a stupid explanation. âSpeaking of, why are you here right now? what happened to Jayâs?â I questioned, completely forgetting how we got into this situation in the first place.
âJay was feeling ill so we called it a night pretty early, I only got three shots down.â
Jake runs a lazy finger over my hip bone and leans in to nuzzle the crook of my neck. Shit. Heâll notice the way I react to his touches and I wonât be able to explain myself. Fuck.
âI thought I would come to my room and catch up on sleep but look what we have here insteadâ he says with that stupid smirk on his face.
âOh- oh Iâm sorry.â I slowly pull away from him to make way back to my room. âNo babe, please donât go, I want you to stayâ he begs while keeping our fingers latched to keep our extended arms together. He then latched his hand around my wrist to slowly pull me back down to his level on the bed. Itâs all happening too fast. He uses the same hand to comb his fingers through the strands at the bottom of my hair on the back of my head, and keeps his hand there entangled. He uses his hand to guide my head into a sensual kiss. He gently pressed his lips against mine. So plump, so dreamy. I reciprocated the kiss instantly, matching his pace and moving our lips in sync so perfectly. The way our lips intertwined so naturally gave me actual chills.
After giving me what I have dreamt about for years, he pulls away, leaving a string of saliva to connect our lips. He looks into my eyes, his pupils as voids. âPlease stayâ he whispers again. I nod dumbly, my brain still short circuiting as Jake bites is bottom lip. Heâs so fucking beautiful, my eyes are practically burning holes into his lips.
His fingers gently run over my cheekbone, lingering on my jawline, tracing along my nose. âHow did I ever deserve someone as beautiful as you?â he murmurs. His voice is full of admiration and love and affection. He trails his fingers along my jaw, pausing to lightly graze my collar bone, making goosebumps erupt across my skin. The heat radiating off Jakeâs body is practically burning me alive.
Without thinking about it for a second longer, I close the gap between our lips again. We moved in sync, in harmony. It feels like my lips were only made to kiss his. He rests his free hand on the side of my face and uses it as grip to deepen the kiss. Kissing him I had a sense of saftey. The longer our lips were together, the more open I was to his attempts at adding tongue into the mixture. It was a sloppy wet mess, but is all I have ever wanted.
I slide my hand between out warm bodies and feel across his obvious bulge in his boxers. He instantly let out a groan when I took his imprint into my palm. I stroked it gently as we continued with intertwined tongues. His grunts and breathlessness was insanely arousing.
It was clear that we were both extremely sleepy. After a few more minutes of kissing, we eventually pulled away, with no words spoken.
I try my best to hold in my moans as the warmness travels up my body like lava. He stops tracing my collarbone to trail his hands up the side of my body, stopping to stroke a line of soft kisses along the side of my neck.
My hands grasp tightly at the material covering Jakeâs shoulder blades and I use that leverage to get back under the blankets with him. We both face eachother, with our legs crossing randomly over one another. He once again rests his head in the crook of my neck, leaving a kiss like he did once before. Only this time, I know his true intention.
~~~~~~~~~
The fall semester is starting back up again. Junior year, both is our schedules are jammed packed with upper division classes. Having to balance so many classes and still having to work to keep up with the bills for the house, Jake and I hardly see each other. Even though I love spending every single day with him, I feel like Iâm living with a ghost whenever I see his empty seat. When I wake up every morning to find him gone, my heart starts to ache. It hurts knowing that we might not spend as much time together. I know that the sooner that this semester ends, the easier everything will be.
The end of the semester wasnât going to be soon though, itâs barely September. Iâve decided to try and set a study date with Jake and make sure nothing was overlapping the times. We eventually agreed apon Thursday night after he got off of his afternoon job. Maybe around 8 oâclock. I was getting a head start on my Statistics work before he showed up because I knew it would take me a while. He eventually showed up close to 8:30.
I had my headphone covering my ears, shoulders slumped over my desk, and he comes up behind me and take my shoulders in his hands and sensually massages. âAh thank youuuu~~~ my muscles are tightâ I jumped at the unexpected pressure. He drives his thumbs a little bit deeper into my blades and slides his straight arms down my stomach for a hug. âI missed youâ he griped with puppy dog eyes, resting his head on my shoulder. I take off my headphone and hold both of his forearms and pull him deeper into this awkwardly positioned hug.
After a few seconds he pulls away and grabs out his bag with his laptop, and runs to his room to grab his chair to pull up next to mine. I was still seated, watching, unable to take my eyes off him. He settles himself and puts the laptop on his knees in front of him. He opens his notebook, and turns the page to the worksheet for this month. My fingers naturally find their way to his back and scratch gently while he looks over his work. They made their way up his clothed back and into his hair and I ran them through this tangled hair. He let out a sigh of fufillment and he allows himself self to close his eyes to fully take in the relaxing feeling. He breaths in deeply and slowly, taking in my coconut scent.
âFuck itâ he says under his breath.
He turns in my directed and crashed his lips into mine with no hesitation. He wraps his arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. I was startled at the quick change in plans but my lips soon melted into his and I was under his control. My tongue dances along his bottom lip, asking for entrance as he obliges and gives access. He lifts me from my chair and pulls me over to straddle his thighs.
He guides his lips to mine again, running his hands down my back as he pushes me lower into his lap. I wrap my legs slightly around his waist for some sense of support. The sensual make out and lap straddling goes on and on, until he breaks away slightly to speak, âYou can move if you want sweetheartâ.
He reconnects our lips and I find myself needing any sort of friction to ease the pressure building between my legs. Subconsciously grinding my core over his thigh slowly. I bite down on his lower lip causing him to suck on my tongue immediately as a response. God, he tastes so good, like the cocoa butter lip balm I got him for his birthday.
I continue grinding over his thighs picking up the aggressiveness, as he continues to run his hands through my hair. âFeeling desperate, darling?â he teases, smirking as he tries to pull me back into a kiss. âShut upâ I harden my fist and hit the front of his shoulder. He always finds a way to tease me. He chuckles as we connect our lips once again.
He slides both of his hands under my thighs stands up from his chair, and I wrap my legs around his body as he carries me to the bed. He slowly lays me down on my back with my legs still wrapped around his waist. He doesnât break the kiss but as soon as he sets me down, I can feel his erection bulging through his pants rubbing against me sweet spot. We stop kissing momentarily as he looks at me, with lust filled eyes. He lets one of his hands rest on my chest, while the other traces along the side of my neck to my chin, tilting my head upward and pressing his forehead against mine. âLook at how gorgeous you are right now,â he says with pure adoration. âI canât help myself when Iâm with you.â A sudden surge of desire hits me and my hands grip his hips tighter as he starts to trail kisses on my jawline. I can feel an undeniable wetness spreading in my panties. I am becoming desperate.
I placed my hands at the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it up, but he finished the job and lifted it over his head and threw it to the side. I have seen Jake shirtless a million times over but this time is different. It feels more intimate than the last ones I have seen. I felt my throat tighten as my eyes were drawn to his chest which looked absolutely flawless. âSo beautifulâ I whisper and I trace my fingers over his abs and chest. His body looks perfectly carved and sculpted by a god. âItâs all for you, babyâ he cooed.
I reach my arms around his back and gently dig my nails into his skin as he continues to kiss me. He grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head, revealing my breasts. I wasnât wearing a bra since I had been home all afternoon, and I definitely wasnât expecting this. As soon as he sees them, he takes one of them in his hand. He holds my right breast in his palm and gently rubs it between his thumb and index finger.
His gaze remains focused on my chest as his mouth begins to travel down, taking his time to enjoy each and every piece of my body. He stops to give me another kiss before placing his lips on my nipple. He sucks on my nipple whilst his teeth nipped at my flesh, causing me to moan lowly. I grabbed his hair pulling him closer to me. I grind my pelvis onto his dick, eliciting a groan and he removes his mouth, making a âpopâ sound, to look at his next target intensely. He took my other breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my nipple and softly sucking, making me arch my back and having a moan escape my lips. Jake trails his hands down my waist while keeping his mouth latched to me.
His fingers went into the top of my sweatpants and I stopped him. âI have never done this beforeâ I admitted. âDo you want me to stop?â he questions. How could I ever want him to stop? He is the only person I have ever imagined losing my virginity to. That aside I simply answer âNo, Jakey, I trust youâ
He continues to pull me pants down and off my legs and throws it to the side like he did with the other articles of clothing. He licks up my neck and comes to my ear. âI have never done this either, we can learn togetherâ he whispered. Hearing this made my noticibly more wet, the way he whispers into my ear raises every single hair on my body. The thought of us having our first times with each other made this whole so much more meaningful and made me a lot less hesitant.
The only thing I have left on are my black panties and Jake looks like he is a man with a mission. I grab his bulge through his jeans and gently massage. He becomes a groaning mess as I palm his desperate tip. He is barely even able to keep his lips a decent distance apart for me to kiss him. âFuuuck your hand feels so goodâ I take my other hand to start unbuckling his jeans, which he seems to have no problem with.
I pulled the belt off and unbuttoned his jeans and pulls them down, to where he took them all the way off. All he has left is his boxers. I can clearly see the imprint of he large cock through the thin fabric. I furrowed my eyebrows. âDoes it look too big?, we can stop now if we need toâ he questioned, seeing the fear on my face. I gulped and said âNo, I can take it.â
I continued stroking through his boxers and he moved my panties to the side and rubbed gently on my folds. I gasped at the feeling. The better it started to feel, the less and less I was able to focus on Jake and more on myself. He had me wrapped around his finger. No amount of masturbating could compare to the way he is making me feel within these few minutes.
He slid his fingers down my clit and inserted one. He pumped it in and out until I felt that I was ready for more. Then 2. It hurt a little more but I slowly got used to it. He leaned his head down while his fingers still stuffed me and started leaving kisses on my clit. For having so little experience, he worked his finger and tongue like a professional. The way his tongue danced across my sensitive bud made my body shutter, and I couldnât keep my mouth shut.
âI love the sounds of your whimpersâ he moaned against my clit teasing me. I couldnât even respond. My breathing quickened, and the more his fingers fucked me, the more I could tell how wet I was getting. I whimpered again and I gripped his hair signaling how good he was making me feel. âIt tastes just as sweet as I imaginedâ he praised. He has imagined this before? What else has he imagined?
His fingers slowed down and he slipped two inside of me simultaneously. My hips bucked up and I let out a small gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He continued working his fingers inside of me. He was eating like a man who hadnât seen a meal in a week.
âI want to taste you now.â I protest, pulling his face up for a kiss. His eyes look like he is drunk as his tongue swirled with mine and he gave me a slow deep kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, then bit me, and finally opened his mouth and licked my tongue with his. He pulls away and allows me to pull his boxers past his hips and onto the ground. His dick sprung out. God, it was a lot thicker than I imagined.
I take the base of it and put my lips against the tip, swirling my tongue around. His muscular hand combs through the top of my hair and gently grips it as I begin to take more of his length in my mouth. I could feel it sliding smoothly in and out of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he guides me to take more in moderation. âGod yes baby, thatâs itâ he encouraged. I looked up at him, the room filled with breathy moans and he couldnât keep his mouth shut. I felt the waves of his voice vibrating through my lips as he spoke, causing goosebumps to erupt across my entire body. I could feel my juices flowing through my pussy and down my belly.
I continue sucking him until he is almost completely buried inside my mouth. He leans down placing his lips beside my ear. âI donât think I can hold out much longerâ he whispers, making me smile.
He slowly pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts me back onto the bed. I use my arms to cover my chest, I am a little nervous. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. âDonât hide yourself, you look perfect darlingâ he said proceeding to take my tongue in his mouth. God this man loves using his tongue. I have never felt this type of intimacy before, and to think I am covering that ground with my bestfriend, was not how I thought it was going to go to say the least.
He brushes his tip in between my folds, spreading my wetness around. âAre you sure you want to keep going? We can stop here, just say the words and I will stopâ âPlease keep goingâ I am practically begging. He seems to enjoy my obvious desperation. He guide the tip in slowly, trying not to overwhelm me. He goes in a little deeper. I wince in pain. âAh baby go a little slowerâ I pleaded. I didnât want him to stop but it was definitely starting to hurt. He held the same spot for a few more seconds, then slowly pushed more in. I have gotten used to the stinging, as it slowly turns to pleasure.
âShit princess, youâre so fucking tightâ Jake praises. He was getting lost in his own world since he has never felt a warm pussy wrapped aroung his dick before, especially not one like mine. I felt his tip hit the enterance of my cervix. He bottomed out. He didnât move. He didnât even want to move, he was just enjoying the moment of his cock being buried deep inside his bestfriend. âYou ok babe?â he asked, concerned by the lack of movement from me. âYeah, just give me a secondâ I replied, attempting to get myself under control.
I began to relax, letting the warmth envelop my entire body. I signal that his is able to move. He slowly pulls his cock out of my cunt, and immediately pushes it back in. He rests both of his arms next to my face and comes down to kiss me. I can see the faint beads of sweat forming on his forehead. âYou do not know how long I have been wanting to do thisâ He whispered into my ear. Once again, Jakes words send a tingle down my spine. He instantly latched himself onto my neck, sucking harshly while still keeping a slow pace down below. I grip his brown head of hair as he leaves purple marks on my skin, bruising my neck. He pulls out and goes back in, this time at a consistent rate.
Our torsos are in complete contact and he sets both of his hands under my back. I wrap my legs around his waist to allow him deeper access, which he so desperately needed. His lips were locked with mine. Our tongues were dancing along with each other as well as our chests. Every time he would suck on my lower lip, I moan against his lips.
âThis is what I have been dreaming aboutâ He says breaking away and kissing my nose. He finds me comfortable with his picking up the pace, and he did with no hesitation. He nuzzles into my neck with his hair partially resting on my face. There was no pain left to feel and my whole body was washed over with pleasure. His length fit so perfectly into my warm cunt, like we were make to only fuck eachother.
Jake head still right next to mine, I turn my head and whisper âJakey, it feels so gooood~~~~â with inconsistency in my breathing. Jakeâs ears were pleasured as if he were listening to his favorite song. He slowed down the pace, only to drive his dick deeper into my swollen cunt with each thrust. âOh my god itâs feels so fucking good, you taking my cock like this.â he whines in my ear. He pulls away from my neck and just watching himself fuck into my pussy.
There was so much sweat on his face it was so fucking hot. It was dripping off his chin and onto my shoulder and neck. His hair was starting to get wet. He took both of my legs over his shoulders, making sure to maintain eye contact. Each stroke was deeper and deeper. Faster and faster. He was getting desperate. I donât know how much more my inexperienced pussy can handle. He takes his thumb and gently rubs my clit. Ugh, I have never felt this sort of sensation before, being fucked at the same time.
My moans became more uncontrollable and my legs started to close in. âFuckkkkk Jakey I am about to cumâ I am on the verge of tears, overstimulated with pleasure. The pressure on my clit mixed with the repeated abuse of my cervix was enough to drive me over the edge. âMmmmm yes doll, cum on my cockâ he says lowly. My walls tighten around him and my hips are shaking. My heart is beating at 1000bpm, not a coherent thought left in my fucked-dumb mind. He practically has to pry my legs apart to maintain access to my slit. He holds my hips in place as he gives me a few more strokes. His became less and less powerful.
Once he felt his orgasm coming, he quickly pulled out of me, letting out a loud groan, and shot his strings of white cum all over my tummy and chest. The room was filled with loud pants and the scent of sex. âYou are all I have ever wantedâ I reach up to tuck his hair behind his ear, not minding the fact that his face was soaked. We rest our foreheads together and rub our noses across each other as we both try to catch our breath.
After a second of recovery, He runs to the bathroom and grabs a rag to clean me up. I could barely move my body, my entire entity was more than sore. It hurt to move, all I could do is lay there. Jake returns with a cold washcloth, and starts wiping off my stomach. âDo you need help getting cleaned up babe?â he asks, sitting down beside me, his arm around my naked torso. âCould we take a bath together?â I suggested.
A bath together after the fact is far more intimate, and could give us some time to talk things over. âOf courseâ and smiles. âI can go get it set up right now, darling, you just rest for a few minutesâ He gives me a kiss on the nose and forehead before heading to run the faucet.
~~~~~~~~~~
I donât know how I could let this happen. I lay on my bed rerunning all of the events writhing the last hour in my head. I really donât know why we both allowed it to go that far. I admit, I loved every second of it, but now that itâs over, we have to deal with the effects.
Jake comes back from running the faucet. He looks tired. Maybe a bath is something we both need. âCome here sweetheartâ he brings a towel and sets it on the counter.
The bathroom mirror was completely fogged over. âAre you trying to make soup out of us?â I said jokingly. âI know you like taking your showers hot, so I thought maybe it would be the same for bathsâ he chuckled.
I dip my toes into the half full tub. Jake was right, the temperature was just how I liked it. I held onto his shoulder as I submerge my other foot. The water lapped over the rim of the bath tub.
I keep hold onto his hand so he can guide himself into the tub, taking a lot more balance and tolerance for him to try to get used to the boiling water. âGod damn, you like it hot hotâ he teases though I can see him furrowing his eyebrows at the heat.
âOh donât be such a babyâ I tease him right back. He pouts playfully. I love seeing that kind of reaction from him. âI donât mindâ he mumbles in embarrassment, trying to hide the smile on his face.
Once his feet were able to get used to the water, we both slowly sat the rest of our bodies into the tub. Jakes hair is a mess, itâs going in all different directions. I reach out to tuck some of it behind his ears for him, and then cup his face in my palm. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. He tilts his head, there he goes with those irresistible puppy dog eyes again.
âWhatâs wrong baby?â he asks. I remain in eye contact with him. âWere you being serious? When you said you have dreamt about⊠thatâŠ?â
Heâs silent. So much blood rushing to his face his cheeks are like strawberries. He scratched the back of his head. âI mean yeah⊠why wouldnât Iâ he hesitated.
âI mean look at you, you are insanely attractive and we live together and have known each other forever. Of course my mind is going to wonder. It has wondered many more times than I would like to admit.â he explained himself.
Unintentionally, our bodies kept inching towards each other in that bath. I am some how a mere 6 inches away from his face. âWhy havenât you ever told me how you felt?â
âBecause I was scared on how it would change our friendshipââŠ. he had the exact same fear as I did. He was also afraid of losing one of his best friends. âIf I tell you how I feel, you might think itâs weird or somethingâ he whispers into my ear. âNo I will understand, we have known each other our whole lives. How would it be weird?â I say softly.
He hesitates once again, and I can hear his heart start to pound. He closes the gap between us and rests his forehead on mine. âThere is so much you donât knowâ He breathes, still looking deep into my eyes. His words caused a flicker of anxiety inside of me. âThere is so much I want to know about you, darlingâ I reassure.
âWell for starters I never thought this thing between us would become anything more than just friendsâ he confesses. It is hard for him to admit such things, but he has to show me that I matter more than he thinks. âIt scares me, and Iâm sorry that I let it go too far. I guess itâs because Iâve been waiting so long, and everything has changed so fastâ he explained, he still had this worried look on his face like I were going to shut everything down. Everything had changed so fast.
âYou have to stop worrying so much about me. You can trust me, okay? Iâll never judge or hate you or think any differently of you. All I want is for us to enjoy our first time together and enjoy each other. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you are to meâ. I caress his face with my hands.
A small smile graces his features while he gazes back into my eyes. I lean forward and capture him in a long passionate kiss. Our lips moving in sync, tasting each others taste as if it was our first time doing it. We pull away and stare at each other. He places both of his palms on either side of my face, leaning in even closer. I place my lips in line with his.
My fingers run through his soaked hair, though I donât know if it use from sweat or from water. âJakey, if I am going to be honest, I have been feeling the same way. On nights where we donât sleep in the same bed, I find myself getting less sleep and craving your warmth. I donât regret anything thatâs happened between us tonight. Admittedly, I have been wanting to do that with you for so longâ I started ranting.
âWhen you were making love to me I felt like I was floating away and it felt so good I just wanted to stay here forever, like nothing else mattered. There wasnât anything I wanted more than to stay in this moment forever with you, but we both know that isnât possible.â he continues, his voice cracking.
âMaking love?â I chuckle. Such an interesting word choice. âBe quietâ he pushes back. âIâm just joking, but I agreeâ
He was clearly getting tired, letting out a yawn and fighting the force of his eyelids trying to close. âWe should get to bedâ I suggest. We soak the last few moments of the now comfortably hot water and get out of the tub. âYou better not get water all over the floor, Jakeâ HE ALWAYS DOES THAT.
He grabs a towel for me and and one for himself and he wraps mine around my whole body width and pulls me for a hug. âI am glad we took a bath together sweetheart, try to get some restâ he whispers, and leaves an innocent kiss on my forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next few weeks consisted of school, work, and sleeping in the same bed with Jake pretty much every single night. We would exchange passionate kisses and I would bathe him when he was too tired from work or hanging out with Jay. And he would do the same for me. We never went as far to have sex again. We werenât scared but we felt like we should wait.
We are on our way back to Australia for fall break. Jake will finally get to see his parents and I will get to see mine. We get to have a whole week without having to worry about responsibilities. Which I know both of us desperately need. We touch down in Australia around maybe 3pm on the first Saturday of the break. We only brought carry on luggage for convenience and time.
âHave everything?â He questioned me as we were getting out of our seats. âI think soâ I smile, so excited to see my parents. We arranged for Jakeâs mom to pick us up from the airport. She had a large SUV able to fit all of our stuff comfortably. Once we passed through all of the security and customs, Jake calls her to see where she is parked. On speaker I hear her say â9 rows down from the south enteranceâ she explains. âThanks mom, see you in a secâ Jake says about to hang up the phone. âThank you Mrs Simâ I make sure she hears before he presses the red button.
We hurry to get out of the packed airport so meet up with his mom. The weather was cold and misty and it was hard to see. When we finally arrived outside the south enterance, we could hardly believe what we saw. Layla comes up running at full sprint in me and Jakeâs direction. She jumped up onto bother of us, layering our faces and arms with slobbery licks and he tail wagging so hard it may as well had fallen off.
Once Layla was all calmed down we put our luggage into the trunk. We swing up the door and the vehicle seems oddly empty. âWhere is dad?â Jake questioned his mom. âHe is getting worseâŠ. he wasnât able to make it today, I had to take him back to the hospital last nightâ she explained. I could already see the heart break in his eyes. âOhâ We packed everything up and his mom offered for me to sit in the front seat. Honestly, I wanted to sit in the back seat and comfort Jake, so I made up the excuse that Layla should sit in the front.
The mood in the car ride home was off. I donât know if it was from the weather or his fathers health but Jake was not as energetic as he was before. I know he doesnât deserve everything happening to his dad so I will just try to support him through it.
~~~~~~~~~~
I never really gave it much thought, but the more I put the pieces together, I think maybe the reason Jake is so insistent on getting black out drunk with Jay on the weekends may have to do with his father.
Jake has never in his life had a healthy coping mechanism. I remember a lot through out grade school, he would feel guilty or take blame for things that were not his fault, just to mediate the situation. When he did this, he did not react to the discipline very well, but it seems like he would much rather face conveniences than to start an argument over the original problem.
Jake let a lot of people take advantage of him, and it is still something that we have to work on, but knowing the situation with his dad, I know he has a lot more things to worry about now that usual.
Many of the people excluding his parents are alcoholics, any family event we went to together, the main thing being passed around was a bottle. When we were younger, things made him build resentment towards them but the older we got, the more willing he was to try alcohol, only adding more and more each time until he is where he is at now.
Jay isnât the type of friend to stop this behavior either. I will never understand why Jake is such good friends with him cause he never seems to have the best intentions or good interest in mind. I canât be the one to tell him that they should stop being friends cause at the end of the day, Jakeâs relationship with alcohol wonât be healed in a split second.
~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing really eventful happened over the span of the after noon, the rain put everything to a halt. I slept in the guest bed in Jakeâs house for the first night but was unable to fall asleep for the majority of the night. Jakeâs mom rushed into the room around 1:30 am.
âHey are you awake? We have to go the hospital, itâs my husband. Please wake up Jake while I grab the keysâ She said with an extremely shaken voice full of urgency. I shoot out of the bed and put my shorts back on and practically run down the hallway to Jakeâs room. It is locked. I bang on the door frantically. âJake! Jake get up now we have to goâ I echo through the door. Quickly after he swings open his door with his shirt in his hand, in the middle of putting it on.
The SUV was already started when we got out the front door and we ran to get into the car and soon as we sat down she reversed and tried to explain. âHe slipped into a coma. They said they are trying everything to get him to wake up but they have no idea why it happened because he was in decent shape beforeâ she says with tears forming in her eyes.
I reach up to the front seat to scratch her shoulder to try and calm her. I donât think there is anything someone can do in this situation to calm someone in this much distress down but I tried. She is going dangerously fast down the highway. I know that she has been working hard to keep them afloat and thing weâre starting to get better. After that I couldnât stand to listen anymore and closed my eyes hoping that by some miracle she wouldnât end up killing us.
After what seemed like hours we reached the hospital and were quickly taken to another private room where we could talk with him alone. Of course his dad wasnât going to be able to say anything. But Jake still wanted him to listen. He took his fathers hand a caressed his palm with his fingers while he said what he needed to say. Once he was done, I gave Jake a hug as his red face were completely covered in tears.
âHe will be okay, I promiseâ I reassured him. We walked out of the room to discover his mom sitting next to the window, face completely void of emotion. He hasnât spoken a word since we have gotten here.
âYou knowâŠ. he was really excited for you both to come back. He was practically counting down the daysâ she admitted, wiping a tear from here eye. âI was so excited with himâ she added. Her words shatter my heart. How is she not screaming in anger right now. Angry at the world for doing this to her innocent husband. That was something I admired about her. She was always able to contain her emotions well, almost too well.
Seeing both her and Jake in this state was absolutely terrible. I knew it would only take a miracle to fix this given his dads condition. âItâll all be okay, Jake, donât cryâ I assure him. âIt wonât, how am I supposed to deal with this? How am I supposed to go back to school without seeing him, talking to him⊠it hurtsâ âThere is still a chance that he will make it Jake, donât give up on it. I know he wants you to wait for himâ
He couldnât say anything, all he could do was bury his face into my shoulder and sob. He tried to form words, but they were only choked noises which caused him to cry even harder. âShh its okay, I am hereâ I assure him. Me, Jake and his mom spent the night in the hospital. His mom slept in the room with his dad and me and Jake slept in a guest waiting room. Well, I was the only one who was able to get some sleep. Jake was up all night worrying about his father. I could hear him crying as I were trying to fall asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
A few weeks had passed and his fathers condition remained the same, and to be honest, Jake and his mom seemed like they kind of accepted that this was the way that things were going to be.
We were back at the house, his mom would just go to work and lock herself in her room until she had to go to work again and Jake and I were preparing to go back to Korea for the Winter semester.
Mrs Sim did not want to see us leave, and she made it very clear. We were her last hope with everything going on with her husband. I really wish me and Jake could stay back to support her but we have jobs and bills that we have to get back to, and life canât just pause for us. We promised we would let her know how we are feeling, how much we missed each other and everything else that went along with saying goodbye.
We leave in 3 days, and we made it our mission to hang out with his mom as much as we could before we left. She hasnât taken a break either⊠no time to her self she just has to keep working to pay for the house and the piling medical bills.
Those last few days, we took Mrs. Sim out for lunch at her favorite Thai restaurant. She seemed to genuinely smile for the first time in weeks as we joked and reminisced about times when all 4 of us were together. One night, we rented some classic movies she loved and made her favorite snacks. We cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the familiar feeling of just being together as a family again, if only briefly.
Jake and I helped around the house as much as we could - running errands, doing yard work, and cooking meals to give his mom a little respite. We made sure to soak in every moment because we didn't know when we'd all be together like that again.
~~~~~~~~~~
When it came time for our early morning departure back to Korea, Mrs. Sim took us both in for a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears. "Take care of each other," she whispered hoarsely.ââââââââââââââââ Jake grabs our suitcases out of the trunk and his mom pulls me to the side.
âPlease promise to take care of him for me. You have always been a safe place for him, I can only imagine how he has been feelingâ she begged. I held bother of her hands in the palms of mine. âI promise, Mrs Sim, I will do everything in my power to take care of him, donât worry. You have other things to worry aboutâ I reassure her pulling her into a hug.
Layla climbs through the back of the car from the front seat and jumps out of the trunk to say good bye, jumping all over me and Jake just like when we first arrived. âYes youâre such a good girlâ he scruffs up her ears while giving her a kiss on the forehead. I gave Layla some belly rubs before his mom guided her back into the car.
âPlease text me when you board, and call me when you land, I need to know that the two of you are safe.â said his mom. âOf courseâ we pulled her into one last hug. âI love you guysâ she sobbed âI love you tooâ we said in unison as we walked towards to enterance, leaving his mom in the parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~
The ride back home was hard for Jake. 10 hours of restlessness. The only time I saw Jake act kind of okay was at our layover in Manila. I tried to leave him be for most of the trip.
-
We landed at the airport in Seoul and made our way back through customs and immigration, I swear the process of getting out of the airport is more stressful than planing a trip itself. We load our things into my car, missing the excitement that Layla brought to the car ride.
Before we got into the car, Jake comes behind me and turns me around into a hug. âI am really worried about her⊠my parents have been together for so long I canât imagine how she would react with out himâ he cried into my arms. âYour mom is a strong woman, I know it. She has you and I know she will be able to get through it.â I rub his back and lay my head into the crook of his neck.
I walk him over to his door and open it, letting him get into is and rest, we still had a 45 minute drive back to our place. I just let him ârestâ his eyes the whole way and I sat in silence trying not to wake him. The ride was bumpy, or maybe I was more aware of my surroundings not given that Jake wasnât talking my ear off the whole time. I donât mean it as a bad thing but he does a great job at keeping me company in the car. But that element was absent this time.
We were outside of our house quicker than expected. Jake was still fast asleep, he looked up he most peaceful than I have seen him these past few weeks I really did not want to wake him up. âJakey weâre hereâ I whisper and gently grip his shoulder. He groans. He untucks his arms from under his shirt and rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.
We make way up to the door, he didnât bother grabbing anything out of the car but I was completely okay with grabbing everything if it meant he would get some rest. As soon as we stepped in the door, he took off his shoes and hurried to his bedroom, he didnât ever bother changing his clothes before plopping onto his bed in pure exhaustion.
I found myself following him to the bed and sitting on the edge and grazing his back with my fingernails. My hands made way up to his hair and I combed his strands with my fingers. He turns over to lay on his back and I sit and admire his beautiful face while his eyes are closed. So peaceful. I couldnât fight the urge to lean down and give his a soft peck before heading back to the car.
He didnât seem to mind, his lips were soft as they instantly melted into mine for a few seconds. He didnât seem supprised or shocked at all. He made it feel natural. âThank youâ he said, barely audible. I leaned in for another kiss, a smile building on my face as our lips met. No verbal response was needed, my smile against his spoke for itself.
~~~~~~~~~~
We had gotten back into our normal work and school schedule following the break. I still was not seeing Jake as much as I would like and it seems like I was getting less and less information by the day on his dad, which worried me. I tried to call Mrs Sim every single day to check in and get updates, as well as update her on mine and Jakeâs life. She treated me like a friend. Like a daughter. I am very thankful to be accepted by her in that way.
Jake was clearly getting more stressed with work and school and I couldnât figure out a way to ease the stress for him, all I could do was hope that it wouldnât end up being too much.
Mrs Sim told me briefly once while we were on a phone call that me and her call way more often that her and Jake do. Jake has always been a texter and his Mom simply had to deal with not hearing her baby boys voice as often as she would like, which is why it was weird when me and Jake were laying in my bed around 11pm and his phone starts ringing.
Both of us were on the verge of falling asleep and the light from his phone screen made the situation more uncomfortable. At first Jake just reached over and turned off the ringer.
âHey did you even see who it was? What if it was importantâ I question his instinct to end the call. âFine let me lookâ he groans.
He reached over and grabs his phone and looks at the screen âMomâ is what it read. âAnswer it!â I urged him. Jake was hesitant. I think he thought that this was going to be the call, which he has been preparing to avoid at all costs.
Instead of letting the line go to voicemail, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer if myself. âHello Mrs Sim, is everything alright?â
âI am so glad to hear your voice. Is Jake around? It is important. Put it on speakerâ she said.
âYouâre on speakerâ I informed her.
âJake, your father is home, I picked him up about an hour ago. The doctor said that septic shock caused him to go into the coma, and they were able to treat the infection and keep him steady with some blood and IV fluids. He woke up yesterday and has shown no signs of complication ever since. I will take him back in a few days for testing and a check up. They saved him Jake⊠They saved him.â His mother explained ecstatically, crying tears of happiness.
Jakeâs face immediately lit up, with what I could see from the light of the phone screen. He instantly started crying.
âBaby I wish you were here right now. he misses you so muchâ he claimed.
Jake couldnât even speak through his tears and his hitched breathing. âI love you so much mom, tell dad I love him and I will see him soonâ
He sets the phone down and buries his face into my chest, letting out full on sobs. the toll that this situation has taken on his body physically and mentally was very obvious and I know he has been wanting good news.
~~~~~~~~~~
Weeks had passed and we came back to Australia for the Winter break. Jake was more excited than ever. When he saw his dad get out of the car at the airport, I had never see Jake run so fast in my life. Their hug seemed like it was out of a movie and he had been latched to his dad everyday since being back at his house.
His parents kind of picked up on me and Jakeâs relationship, and didnât question why I was wanting to sleep in Jakeâs room and not the guest room any more.
We were laying there facing each other, admiring each others beauty in the dim moon light shining through the blinds.
âTell me Jake, do you believe in fate?â I questioned lowly.
He looks somewhat startled. âYâknow, I have never really thought about that. After everything that has happened this year, I think I would say that I doâ he confirmed, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
âYeah I think I do tooâ
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#heeseung#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen jake#enhypen jungwon#kpop#jungwon#enhypen sunoo#park sunghoon#sunghoon#sunoo#jake x reader#jake sim smut#jake enhypen#jake sim#jake smut#hxxsxxng#heeseung smut#enha x reader#enha imagines#enha#kpop smut#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen fanfic#stray kids#engene#enhypen fluff
461 notes
·
View notes
Text
Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 3)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader
Warnings: fluff, smut this is the last part so I hope you enjoy it!!
part 2
It would be an understatement to say that Charles was over the moon when you and Louise showed up in the paddock on the race day. He was so delighted and happy that he had a hard time hiding it, and everyone present could see it.
He didn't separate from Lou, and he thanked you several times for bringing her and for coming with her telling you how much that meant to him.
Of course, you both attracted the attention of all the media, knowing that tomorrow the main news on the internet will be how Charles' ex-girlfriend appeared with his daughter in the paddock for the first time after a full year since the breakup.
The cameras were everywhere, but having learned from previous experiences, you decided to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. All you were focused on was giving your daughter an unforgettable weekend and supporting Charles as well.
Lou got hungry so you and Charles decided to get her something to eat at the Ferrari hospitality. Lou didn't know what she wanted to eat, so Charles decided to leave his things at your table, including his phone, and said he would go with her to the restaurant to choose. While Lou went with Charles, you sat down at the table and scrolled through your phone waiting for them to come back.
âAm I seeing things or is it really y/n?â A very familiar voice asked you, making you look up from your phone.
âCarlos!â You smiled from ear to ear as you stand up to hug him.
âItâs been some time since Iâve seen you in the paddock. How come youâre here?â He asks curiously.
âLou had a hard time accepting that she wouldn't be spending this weekend with her dad, so...yeah, here we are.â
âOh man, heâs gonna beat my ass on the track today..â Carlos says shaking his head.
âWhat do you mean?â You laugh a little unsure of what heâs talking about.
âHe always gives 110% on the track when Lou is there to support him, I can only imagine what itâll be like today when you are there too.â
The two of you started catching up talking about what was new in your lives, what wasn't, and so on, until Carlos commented on Charles and Lou's relationship, saying that he really loves spending time with her and that he talks about her nonstop.
âShe loves spending time with him too, he is her soulmate Iâm sure.â You commented.
âAnd what about you? Is he your soulmate too?â Carlos asked catching you off guard.
Both you and Charles were close to Carlos and he pretty much knew everything about you and your relationship. He was also very angry with you when you broke up because he thought it was a bad decision and that you should have worked on your relationship and not give up on it so easily.
âI-I..â As you were trying to think of an answer to his question, at that very moment the screen of Charles's phone, which he had left on the table in front of you, lit up.
What caught your attention wasn't the notification he received, but your eyes got stuck on the wallpaper on his lock screen. It was a picture of you and Lou that Charles had taken shortly after you had given birth and came home from the hospital. You were lying on the bed and Lou was lying on your chest while you kissed her head.
It was a picture that was very dear to both you and Charles, and he had it as his wallpaper since the day he took it, and what surprised you the most was that he still had it to this day. Even though you were no longer together, he never changed it.
Carlos noticed what you were staring at and he basically took it as an answer to his question although he had already knew it.
âUncle Carloss!!â Lou screamed with her mouth full of pizza as Charles carried her in his arms over to the table where Carlos and you were sitting.
âHola, hermosa! Did you get hungry?â Carlos chuckled squeezing her cheek.
âOut of all the possible foods you can think of, my baby chose pizza.â Charles laughed sitting her down on the chair next to you.
You were completely lost in your thoughts and didn't even pay attention what the three of them were talking about. All you could think about was the picture you saw on Charles's phone and how you were getting closer to confessing your still deeply held feelings for him.
And of course today was just as Carlos said it would be. Not only did Charles beat Carlosâ ass on the track, but he also beat all the other drivers by proudly and deservedly taking P1. He couldn't let the win slip through his fingers in front of the two most important people in his life so he fought extra hard for it today.
When it was time to celebrate, your eyes filled with tears at how proud you were of him. First he celebrated with the team, then his eyes searched for you and Lou.
âYou wanna congratulate daddy, baby?â You asked her and she nodded excitedly.
You pushed your way towards Charles with her in your arms and when you reached him he instantly hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.
âGood job, daddy!â She said.
âThank you, baby. This one was for you.â He told her kissing her once again.
âCongratulations, Charles. Weâre really proud of you.â You say softly smiling at him tears threatening to run down your cheeks.
âThank you, y/n. Thank you for being here.â He said looking deep into your eyes.
The cameras went crazy over your family moment, closely capturing every interaction between you. It won't be until the next day when you see one of the taken photos of the two of you that it will become completely clear to you how your eyes are betraying you and showing how deeply and obviously in love you are with each other.
When the day was coming to an end, you didn't stay in the paddock any longer, but immediately got on the plane and flew to Monaco, all three of you together. Lou was completely exhausted and when you landed she was already asleep. Charles didn't offer but instead insisted on driving you to your apartment no matter how tired he was.
Charles, carefully so as not to wake her, carried her in his arms into her room and put her to bed. He kissed her goodnight before closing the door and going into the living room thinking he would say goodnight to you too.
âSheâs sleeping like a log.â Charles chuckles quietly as he stands in front of you.
âPoor thing, she was so tired. She passed out as soon as we sat in the plane.â
âBut I'm glad you came. Both of you. It really meant a lot to me to have you there.â
âIâm glad too. We had a lot of fun. Maybe we can come again sometime.â You say making him smile.
âAnytime you wantâ He says feeling that the conversation is slowly coming to an end. He wants to continue it so bad, but he knows that both of you are tired and with a heavy heart he has to leave, even though he would rather lie in bed with you now and hold you close to him all night.
âOkay, Iâm gonna go now. Itâs getting really late.â He says running his hand nervously through his hair while you bite the inside of your cheek so desperately wanting him to ask you if he can stay. âSee you soon, yeah? Good nightâ
Before he turns around to head for the door, you decide that enough is enough. There have been so many obvious signs by now that it's not over between you and that you're still madly in love with each other that you don't want to waste another second being stubborn, but rather surrender to the moment and finally enjoy it.
âOr you can stay the night here..you know..i-if you want toâ You blurt out stuttering the last part.
He turns slowly towards you. His expression is unreadable until he places his hands on your cheeks and asks you âDo you want me to stay?â
Without much hesitation, you nod your head and quietly say âI do.â
Initially, it was as if you were afraid to approach each other, as if you were afraid of each other's reaction even though both of you were hoping that the desire was mutual. Then his lips slowly and cautiously began coming closer and closer to yours.
At first, your lips just brushed, pulling back a little, and then they connected into a long, passionate and deep kiss that you both had been eagerly waiting for.
You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you let out deep breaths in relief you didn't even know you were holding in.
Things were moving quickly and you didn't waste any time getting to your bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and without breaking the kiss, carried you into the room and laid you down on the bed.
Exhaustion was long forgotten when you took each other's clothes off and started kissing every part of each otherâs body.
âI missed you, I missed you so much you donât even knowâ He said into the kiss, barely catching his breath from the intense excitement he felt.
âI missed you too, Charlesâ You half whisper as he pushes into you and one tear rolls down the side of your face.
It felt so good. He felt so good inside you, fit so perfectly like he was made for you. He wanted to make love to you, to show you how much he cares about you so he kept going on and on making your legs shake so many times throughout the night, kissing every inch of your body, pulling you closer to him to calm you down, breathing in your scent and getting lost in your eyes.
âIâm gonna cum, babyâ His voice trembled as he rested his forehead against yours and pulled his cock out of you cumming all over your stomach, hands free, then pushing himself back in and wincing.
You fell asleep with him holding you close all night. His arms were hugging you so tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go even just for a second, he would wake up and it would all be just a dream.
The morning sun's rays didn't let you sleep past eight, so you spontaneously woke up together still in the same position you fell asleep in.
âGood morning ma cherieâ He said with a kiss to your lips.
âMorning babyâ You smiled caressing his cheek with your thumb. âDid you sleep well?â
âMhm, very wellâ He murmurs against your skin. âAnd you?â
âMe too. I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time.â
âYeah, baby?â
âYeahâ You glance at the clock out of the corner of your eye and see that it's almost time for Lou to wake up. âOh shit, Charles you need to leave, Lou is about to wake upâ You say nervously, which completely confuses Charles.
âWhat? What do you mean I need to leave? Why canât she know that Iâm here?â
âIt's not that she canât know itâs just that I want us to take it slow this time. I'm afraid of screwing this up because it feels so good and so right and I don't know if I could handle us hurting each other again.â You sigh as you explain your reasons to him. âAnd most of all, I don't want to break Lou's heart.â
He pauses for a moment to think about what you just said and realizes that it makes sense and that you're right. âOkay, baby. Donât worry weâll take things slow to make it right this time.â After all, he just wants to fulfill all your wishes and wants to make you happy with whatever you want. âSo when do I get to see you again?â He asks and you laugh at his silly question. âWhat?â He asks confused.
âIt's funny that you ask me that. You can see us whenever you want. It's just for a short time until we see how things develop and then of course we'll live together again.â
âI canât wait for that.â
Soon he got out of the bed and got dressed. He kissed you barely breaking away from you before heading out of the bedroom. The door to Lou's room was open and so he walked slowly on his tiptoes, not wanting to wake her up.
But he realized that was in vain when, passing by her room, he heard âDaddy?!â He stopped in his tracks, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing quietly under his breath.
Sheâd already seen him and he couldn't leave now or get out of the situation in any way, so he decided to go into her room and say good morning to her.
âHey, baby. Good morningâ
âWhat are you doing here?! Did you sleep here?!â She didn't know what to ask him first from how happy she was that it was morning and he was there.
When the two of them appeared at your bedroom door, it was clear to both you and Charles that from that moment on, you were all living together again.
âHi thereâ Charles said holding her in his arms and looking at you.
You didn't say anything, you just covered your face with your hands and started laughing before you uncovered the quilt and said "come here, both of you"
@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164 @seonghwaexile @landossainz @little-miss-naill @taygrls @sturmatt @myescapefromthislife @stylesmoonlight12 @st4rgirl-ellie @eloriis @sillyfreakfanparty @rebelliousneferut @kahhorri @hard4ndsoft @weekendlusting
#charles leclerc one shot#f1 fic#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x female reader#f1 scenario#f1 smut#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader
531 notes
·
View notes
Text
the art & science of parenting 101 | jay park
â° summary: the art & science of parenting 101 (PSY1009)â in this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated babyâaka the 'robot child'. late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal.  what you didn't expect to be part of the deal? getting paired with jay parkâthe last person you'd trust to raise, well, anything. youâre pretty sure he couldnât even take care of a pet rock. now, youâre stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade. warning: sleep deprivation is guaranteed. and maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. good luck!Â
â° pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. enha members!]
Ⱐgenre: fluff, comedy | e2l!au, college!au, (fake)parenting!au, he fell first, she fell harder type beat
â° contains: mentions of parenting & parental neglect (sorta, only a smidge of like five words), crack! bc if you know me i self indulge in crack whoops, jay & y/n being opposites & school rivals, jay's annoying smirk like a million times, reader & jay are psych majors, jay's also a photographer, cheesy ass kisses, jay & reader are awkward! so awkward! thereâs SO much tension . but in a cute awkward crush way
â° wc: 20.5k [ONCE AGAIN -- this was not intentional..if you know me i just have too much fun writing sometimes & get too attached to the characters...]
â° a/n: omg itâs finally done. tell me why it took me so long to finish, i promise i didnât mean to but lifeâs been busier lately :â) aNyways! ugh i luv writing e2l!jay for some reason,,,he fits the trope so well in my eyes heh but i hope you all like him & the characters as much as i enjoyed writing them !!! as busy as i am i love indulging in my crack x enha writes :P hope u enjoy & tell me what you think <333
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»ă..ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»
Welcome to PSY1009, The Art & Science of Parenting 101! Throughout the next 12 weeks, weâre going to dive deep into the wondrous world of parentingâdirty diapers and all. To kick off our course, weâre starting with our campus-famous project: raising your very own robot baby for the first half of the semester (with the help of your assigned partner, of course). Before our first class, we ask that you complete this pre-project questionnaire on your current views and opinions about parenting. No pressureâthere are no right or wrong answers (maybe only judgements from your future robot offspring)!
Q1 â The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What theories and methods do you believe are important to parenting?Â
Y/N's Submission [8:25AM, September 18th]:
"I strongly believe that effective parenting revolves around a strict routine, which can be reinforced through the principles of operant conditioning, as developed by B.F. Skinner. Proper feeding schedules, consistent nap times, and regular development check-ins are essentialâI think a structured timetable would ensure a baby's needs are met efficiently and consistently. With a set schedule and a focus on developmental milestones, I believe we can maximize a child's growth potential, even if it's just a robot baby.â
Q2 â What do you expect to learn and gain out of this co-parenting experience? Â
Y/N's Submission [8:29AM, September 18th]: Â
"I expect to confirm that a well-organized system is the key to successful parenting. I want to test my hypothesis that if you follow a set structure, yes, even with a robot baby, things will run smoothly. I am hoping that this experience runs smoothly with no unnecessary surprises.âÂ
âă».ă»â«
Satisfied with your answers, you click 'submit' and close your laptop, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you settle into your seatâcenter of the second rowâas you wait for the 9AM lecture to start. Â
It's 8:30AM. Â
You're the only one in the room. Â
Yeah, you're a little early. So what? One can never be too prepared. You've waited for this course forever, and you're determined to not only ace it (like you do with every class) but to dominate. So yes, coming early is characteristic of you, as you want to ensure you get the best seat in the classroom: center of the second rowâcenter to get the best view of the professor's podium, and second row to be close enough to show you're engaged, but not close enough that it screams, Look at me, I'm a tryhard! Â
It's clear you've come prepared. Plus, this class isn't just any ordinary electiveâit's the elective to take. Only the top students majoring in psychology get in, available only through direct invite by the professor. If you were invited to PSY1009, it meant you were the crĂšme de la crĂšme of psychology students. The best of the best. The elite. TheâÂ
Your train of thought is derailed when an all-too-familiar figure strolls into the room with that signature smirk. Backpack slung lazily over one (1) shoulder (as if two straps are too much effort), hair clearly still bedhead status, wearing whatever clothes he fished off The Chair (you know, the oneâwhere all questionable, semi-clean laundry lives).Â
He strolls past youâof courseâand plops down right in front of you. Front row. Â
Try-hard.Â
"Y/N, fancy seeing you here," Jay Park spins around, a knowing look plastered on his face, eyes gleaming. "I missed seeing that frown of yours all summer."Â
"What are you doing here, Jay?" You roll your eyes and scoff at his comment. "Don't tell me you got into this class. It's for serious students."Â Â
Jay's grin only widens to your despair. "Contrary to your deeply misinformed opinion, Professor Kim actually loves me. I'm a great student."Â Â
âI donât believe it,â you deadpan back. âYou never turn your assignments in on time, and quite frankly, I'm surprised you were even able to find this classroom."Â Â
Jay shrugs, unfazed. "What can I say? Professor Kim doesn't just look at deadlines, she looks at talent. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?"Â Â
You mumble something under your breath about âtalent for procrastinationâ but before he can fire back, Professor Kim walks into the room, cuing the silence of all the students who've filled up the class. Â
"Good morning, class! I'm so happy to see so many familiar faces."Â Â
Jay turns his head back towards the front of the room, as you instantly straighten up, flashing your favorite professor a smile. This is officially the fifth course you've taken with Professor Kim. It's no secret youâre one of her biggest fansâthe countless early mornings you've spent waiting at your computer, finger hovering over the âenrollâ button the second registration opens so you can be one of the first students to sign up for her classes have proven that. Challenging but rewarding, her classes are always worth the effort. And yet, for reasons beyond your comprehension, Jay ParkâJay Freaking Parkâsomehow always ends up in the same classes. Every. Single. Time. Itâs like a curse. Â
A loud, messy, procrastinating curseâŠ
âŠthat just so happens to have a side profile almost as annoyingly good that it only pisses you off more.Â
You wonder if heâs actually here to learn or if heâs just here to spite you. Because, honestly, the amount of classes youâve shared with him is no longer a coincidence. Five semesters in a row? Suspicious.Â
But realistically, and unfortunately, Jay does study the same major as you, which means those last five semesters? Oh, those were five long semesters of endless debates on discussion boards, in-class duels over psychological theories, and the infamous showdown for the TA position in Professor Kim's Intro to Psychology course. And the worst part? Neither of you got the job because Professor Kimâin a diplomatic twist that made zero sense to youâdeemed you both 'equally qualified.' So, the job went to the third best candidate instead. Tough luck. Â
You open up your laptop again, opening a perfectly organized Google Doc, ready to take notes on whatever pearls of wisdom Professor Kim is currently bestowing about your upcoming projectâwhich, in hindsight, you should really be paying attention to. You should be. But something so ridiculous, so blood-boiling, pulls your attention elsewhere. Â
Jay's desk is completely...empty.Â
No laptop. No notebook. Not even a measly little pencil. Did he bring an empty backpack? Or did he just walk in here like he's casually waiting for someone to present him his grade on a silver platter? He's just sitting there like this is a casual hangoutâprobably expecting his robot baby to parent itself while he simply supervises (oh, how you pity the poor soul who ends up as his partner). Â
Before your self-induced inner monologue spirals into complete rage, you suddenly hear your professor's voice cut through the class, breaking you out of your mental rant. Â
"Y/N and Jay."Â
Wait. What?
Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.
You blink. You must have misheard.
"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."Â Â
The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you areâstanding right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of itâwhile Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you. Â
And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.'Â
"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly. Â
You blink at him, you're sureâyou're prayingâthis has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago. Â
But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him. Â
"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you, puppy dog eyes on display. "You don't want to play house with me?"Â Â
You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon.Â
"I donât," you reply flatly. "In fact, Iâd rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you."Â
Jayâs eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?"Â
"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. You bring your voice down to a whisper, leaning towards him. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply."Â
"See, thatâs the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he has the audacity to breathe in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.
Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup. Â
Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery. Â
While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror. Â
Your grade? Plummeting as we speak. Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two. And you? Â
You're screwed.
Q1 â The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What are your current theories and methods that you believe are important to parenting?Â
Jayâs Submission [10:09AM, September 18th]:Â
"I think babies need more freedom to explore and make their own choices, even if that just means grabbing random things. Bowlby's attachment theory leans towards a secure attachment, but I don't think that means hovering over them 24/7. It's about being there when they really need you, not scheduling every second of the day. I also believe letting babies learn through their own experiences is key. Strict behaviorism, such as Skinner's, sounds exhausting and I don't think a rigid system is what makes a good parent. Babies are messy, and that's okay."Â
Q2 â What do you expect to learn and gain from this experience?Â
Jay's Submission [10:12AM, September 18th]: Â
"I'm hoping to learn how to be a responsive, yet flexible parent without overcomplicating it. The goal is to find balance between being hands-on without hovering. And, I think this whole robot baby thing will teach me how to handle unpredictable situationsâbecause no matter how much you plan, life is going to surprise you. And also, being able to say I know how to change a diaper under 30 seconds sounds pretty cool :)"Â
âă».ă»â«
Jay's screwed. Â
Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed.Â
He was already kinda skeptical heâd make it past his 40s if he kept living the way he does, but now? Now, heâs not even sure heâll survive the next 24 hours. Why? Well, todayâs the first official meeting with youâas co-parentsâat the campus coffee shop at 12PM sharp.Â
It's 12:17PM. Â
He's late. Â
Seventeen whole minutes late. To your meeting. And you're basically the human embodiment of an atomic clock. Youâre probably sitting there, checking your watch every few seconds, calculating his absence down to the millisecond. Jay can practically feel the murderous vibes youâre radiating from halfway across campus. Â
And while Jay sometimes finds your need for punctuality weirdly endearing (but don't tell anyone that), he also values not getting scolded on a Saturday morning (12PM is still morning to him, don't judge), especially when he could be sleeping in.  Â
As the cafĂ© comes into view, Jay considers just throwing the towel in. Maybe he could fake a sudden illness, or better yet, skip town and maybe fake his own death or something.Â
There's no point. Knowing you, you'd probably hunt him down for sport. Â
With a sigh, Jay pushes open the door to the cafĂ©, bracing himself for impact. Â
And there you are. Exactly how he imagined. Â
Seated at a small table by the window, papers perfectly aligned, laptop open, and two different colored highlighters placed meticulously side by side. Your foot taps in perfect sync with the café's background music, your eyebrows knitted together in focus, and your teeth chewing your bottom lip as if you're about to crack the Krabby Patty secret formula. The window next to you allows the afternoon sunlight to spill through and reflect off of you, making you look...dare he say it...almost pretty.
If Jay wasn't fearing for his life, he might have actually stopped to admire the view. Might have. Â
When Jay finally reaches your tableâ17 minutes and 46 seconds late (but who's counting)âyou look up, meeting his gaze with a look that's somewhere between not surprised but definitely not impressed.Â
"Well, well," you say, quirking your mouth up ever so slightly that Jay thinks he might see you smile for the first time in, like, ever. "Look who finally decided to join us! Must be nice living on Jay Standard Time." Â
Jay flashes his usual, unbothered smile as he pulls out the chair across from you. "Oh, c'mon, Y/N. Seventeen minutes is nothing in the grand scheme of life."Â Â
"Yeah? Tell that to our future robot baby when you're seventeen minutes late to feed it and its batteries die."Â Â
"Yikes. That got dark quick," Jay's mutters, grin wavering. "But hey, glad to see you're finally accepting the fact that it's our future baby!"Â Â
"Future robot baby," you peer your eyes at him from above your laptop. "Anyways, did you read the guidelines?"Â Â
Jay rubs the back of his neck as he leans back into his chair. "Uh, define 'read'."Â Â
Without missing a beat, you slap a packet of papers down on the table. "Here's the breakdown. Feeding schedules, emotional development tracker, diaper changes, mood swingsâthe whole shebang. We're going to have to approach this strategically."Â Â
"Woah, okay," Jay's eyebrows shoot up, his brain trying to catch up with the words you just spewed at him. "First, how the heck is a robot going to develop emotionallyâthat's a little scary if you ask me. Like, dystopian, Black Mirror, scary. And second, since when is parenting just following a spreadsheet? Isn't part of it, you know, winging it?"Â Â
At the words winging it, your eye twitches so violently, Jay half-expects you to reach across the table and strangle him with his own hoodie strings.Â
"Winging it?" You shut your laptop and lean forward. "Winging it is exactly how we end up with a malfunctioning robot baby that starts a fire and fails us. Parenting is all about structure, consistencyâ"Â Â
"âand having a little fun," Jay cuts in, mouth quirked with mischief. "I mean, what's parenting without some chaos?"Â Â
"Chaos," you mutter, narrowing your eyes at him, "is what you bring into my life on a daily basis."Â Â
"Yeah, and yet you secretly love it," Jay shoots back, leaning in to meet you, as if daring you to disagree. Â
You stare at him, unblinking. It's either you're plotting his slow and painful demise or seriously considering what he just said. No in-between. Â
And yet, somehow, Jay almost finds it endearing how you can look like the world's most innocent golden retriever while also simultaneously sending him six feet under with just one agonizing glare. Almost. Â
Finally, you sigh, "This isn't a joke, Jay. This is 40% of our grade."Â Â
"And I'm 100% ready!" Jay shoots back with a wink, to which you respond with a full-body eye roll. Â
"Oh yeah? Alright, Mr. Ready-for-Anything, what's your brilliant plan?"
"Hmm," Jay leans back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head as if he's got it all figured out (he doesn't). "Well, for one, I was thinking maybe...shifts. We split responsibilities based on our schedules. I'll take the baby on certain hours, you take it other hours, and we'll spend our free days together. And if we're not together and there's a baby crisis, we stay on call."Â
In complete honesty, that came from out of nowhere. Jay didn't even know any ideas were subconsciously cooking up within him until the words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it. But there's no way he was going to tell you that, not when you don't immediately tear his idea to shreds. In fact, you actually look...impressed?Â
Or so he thinks. Jay definitely needs to get better at this whole 'reading your expressions' thing. Â
"Huh," you murmur to yourself, fingers tapping against the table. "That's...not the worst idea you've ever had."Â Â
Jay feels elated. Validation? From you? Phew, this means his life is spared. Thank god. Â
Jay flashes you a satisfied smile and while you don't return it, he hopes you're secretly softening. Just a little. Behind that straight face, you're probably low-key impressed, but no way are you letting him see that. Â
"Don't get too excited," you say, as if you've got some sixth sense for whenever Jay throws a mental victory parade. "This is only day one. Of, like, 42. We've got a long way to go."Â Â
"Okay, okay," Jay raises his hands in surrender, though there's no hiding the smirk on his face as he still mentally takes the win. "Message received. Let's just figure out our schedules?"Â Â
You nod, pushing your laptop aside to make space for a sheet of paper you've already preparedâbecause of course you're prepared. It's like you're about to whip up some elaborate high-stakes legal contract that probably involves blood signatures.
"Okay," you say, clicking your pen, picking a bright blue that basically stabs Jay's eyes by simply existing, but whatever makes you happy, I guess. You write 'Jay's Schedule' at the top, neatly highlighting it with a pink highlighter that somehow hurts even more. Jay wonders if this is a secret ploy to blind him into submission. He wouldn't put it past you. Â
"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"Â Â
Jay squints, clearly thinking hard, as he tries to remember what a 'typical' week looks like for him. Mostly it's a mix of spontaneous decisions, power naps, and gym sessions sprinkled between classes. Â
"Uh...well," Jay rubs the back of his neck. "I usually sleep in until like 11...sometimes noon, depends on the vibe, you know? Classes after that, gym a couple times a week, maybe? And, um, naps are non-negotiable. Make sure you pencil those in too."Â Â
Your pen freezes mid-air, hovering like you're considering whether to throw it at his face or not. Â
"Naps? Non-negotiable? For someone who wakes up at 11AM? We're raising a child, Jay, this requires commitment!"Â Â
Jay raises a calm eyebrow. "Hey, sleep is very important for brain function! You wouldn't want me underperforming as a parent, right?"Â Â
Your eye twitches. "No, Jay. That's already my biggest fear."Â Â
But instead of escalating the snark, you bite your lip, clearly restraining yourself from unleashing a full lecture on time management. Jay struggles to stifle his own laugh at your reaction. If looks could kill, you'd have him buried under six feet of color-coded charts and to-do lists by now. Â
Finally, you sigh, accepting your fate and jotting down âJayâs naps: apparently crucial for survivalâ in your notes with a frown drawn next to it, while Jay gives you an approving nod from across the table.Â
"Alright, my turn," you flip the page over with dramatic flair, carefully writing 'Y/N's Schedule' in the same stab-your-eyes-blue and pink highlight combo as Jay mentally braces himself for what's to come. Â
"So," you continue, starting with that no-nonsense tone that's clearly meant to be seriousâbut to Jay, there's something almost charming about how strict you are. "I wake up at 6."Â Â
Jay's brain immediately short-circuits. Forget charming. Youâre downright crazy.Â
"6? As in AM? On purpose?"Â Â
You blink back at him, as if he's the one saying something ridiculous. "Yes, Jay. On purpose."Â Â
His mind reels, purely amazed, yet utterly horrified at the thought. 6AM? Who does that? He's seen 6AM before, sure, but only when he's stayed up all night, probably cramming for an exam. His mornings start at 10AM at best, and that's very, very rarely. There are birds chirping at 6AM. Who wants to live in a world where birds chirp you awake? Â
When he doesn't respondâstill in pure shockâyou keep going, undeterred by his obvious existential crisis. "I usually have class at 8AM until 1PM, then I try to pick up a shift here," you gesture around the very cafĂ© you two are in, "and thenâ" Â
"Wait, wait," Jay holds up a hand, needing a mental pause button. "You work here?"Â Â
"Yeah," you nod, like it's the most casual thing ever. "Why, is that surprising?"Â Â
Jay squints at you. He's never considered the idea of you pulling espresso shots and dealing with caffeine-deprived college studentsâhe's always pegged you more as a 'quiet math tutor for third-graders' type. Or maybe someone who sells cute stationery at the campus bookstore, organizing pens in rainbow order or something. But now that he's picturing it, yeah, it kind of makes sense. Maybe that's why you're so uptight all the timeâtoo much exposure to coffee fumes. Or, more likely (and evidently), you're just an insanely busy person. Â
He likes the coffee fumes theory better. Â
"I guess not," he admits, then surprises even himself by adding, "that's kind of impressive, though."Â Â
He gives you a genuine smile, and you blink back, as if searching for the hidden jab that's usually lurking beneath his words. But it's not there this time...oddly. Slowly, your expression softens, and you give him the tiniest of smiles. "Thanks? It's alright, I guess."Â Â
It's nothing bigâno, not at allâbut Jay feels a weird sense of accomplishment at your reaction. Better than nothing.Â
He leans in over the table, all faux-innocenceâeyebrows raises, large puppy eyes and all. "Does this mean you can get me a free coffee?"Â Â
You lean in too, mirroring him, and he's not sure why his heart skips a beat at the close proximity.Â
"Yeah...no. Nice try."Â Â
Jay groans, throwing himself back in his chair dramatically. Worth a shot. Â
"Anyway," you continue, totally unfazed, "I usually work here until 5, then Mondays I have a study group for Econ 301, and club meetings scattered throughout the week."Â Â
Jay's head spins for maybe the nth time since he's sat down. Honestly, you lost him way back at 'class until 1PM.' Your schedule is like some kind of twisted Sudoku puzzle, except much more intimidating. Â
"So...you're, like, busy...all the time?" he asks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as his brain tries to process how anyone can function like this. Â
You give him a look that almost convinces Jay himself that he's the crazy one here. "Yes, Jay. I am."Â Â
"Wow, okay. So why did you even take this class? What happened to being committed? You don't even have time to breathe."Â Â
You narrow your eyes, and he swears you're about to launch into some motivational TedTalk. "It's called efficiency, Jay. Also, I like to challenge myself. That's what parenthood is about, after all."
Jay stares at you like you've just self-declared yourself a cyborg.
"Oookayyy," he drawls, dragging out the word because, honestly, he's 99% sure you've completely lost it. The remaining 1%? Â
It's slightly impressed by your sheer, terrifying level of commitment. He's over here winging life, including this conversation, while you've practically mapped out the rest of your entire existence.Â
"Do you even, like, sleep? Or is that optional for you?"Â Â
You shoot him an amused glance, half-joking, half-serious. "Sleep is for the weak."Â Â
Jay raises an eyebrow. "Good to know I'm weak, then."Â Â
You stifle a laugh, but Jay catches the brief twitch of your lips before you quickly compose yourself. Heâs known you for so long, and yet, this might be the first time heâs seen even a hint of your guard slipping. Itâs subtle, barely there, but he notices. And for some reason, it makes him smile. Youâre always so put together, so seriousâbut this small crack in your armor? Jay canât help but appreciate it. Â
Maybe, just maybe, he could get you to soften up more if he tried hard enough. And yeah, heâs definitely going to try.Â
But before he can try to tease you more, you snap back into business mode, instantly scribbling down more notes. "Alright, so letâs just split the baby's care based on my work schedule and your...nap schedule, apparently."Â Â
Jay leans back in his chair, catching that flicker of amusement in your voiceâdespite the serious look on your faceâand he fights the urge to push a little more. There's something about that side of youânot the one behind the cold wall you've built of color-coded schedules and deadlinesâthat he wants to see more of. Somehow. Â
"Works for me,â he shrugs and grins at you, âbut if the baby's anything like me, it'll nap a lot. You might have it easy."
"And if itâs anything like me,â you mutter, barely pausing, âthen itâll easily get annoyed by you.â
Jay catches the ghost of a smile on your face, barely noticeable unless you were looking for itâwhich he definitely is. Itâs enough to keep him intrigued. He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand like heâs watching some fascinating show.Â
You donât notice him staringâor maybe you do, but youâre too busy pretending you donât. Either way, thereâs a small, almost imperceptible shift in your body language that Jay senses. Your shoulders arenât as tense, and you donât look like youâre mentally calculating how many minutes you have left before you can escape this meeting.
Jay decides to take advantage of the moment. âSoâŠdo you think our robot baby is also going to be a superhuman genius? Like in a you way?âÂ
You finally let out a laugh, to his surprise, and he feels so satisfied he has to bite his lip to hold back a smile. âDefinitely, but also part crazy. Like in a you way.âÂ
Jay chuckles, mentally declaring this conversation a victory. Your laugh fades but for a split second, he catches you studying his face like youâre trying to figure out what his deal is. And he doesnât mind it at allâbecause, for once, youâre not giving him the usual death glare that sometimes seems permanently reserved for him.
Then, just as he starts to settle into this very rare, almost⊠pleasant vibe between you two, you suddenly snap back to reality, capping your pen and standing up.Â
Jay frowns as he watches as you turn towards the coffee bar, not ready for this conversation to end just yet. Â
"Wait, where are you going?" he blurts out, sounding more tragic than intended.Â
You pause, turning back with a knowing look that sends his pulse tripping.
"Do you want a free coffee or not?"Â Â
The following Monday, at exactly 9:55AM, you and Jay are handed your robot babyâJisoo, as Jay somehow convinces you to name it after his favorite celebrityâat the end of your class. Â
You didn't even try to put up a fight. The moment Jay's eyes lit up at the idea, you knew you'd already lost. After three whole minutes of bickering and one PowerPoint titled 'Why Our Baby Deserves to be Named After Star Quality,' you realized there was no saving it. He had arguments. He had fan chants memorized. For a robot baby. Your robot baby.Â
"Admit it, Jisoo has star quality," Jay beams, proudly looking down at the robotic baby in the baby carrier that came with her. Â
You look from Jisoo to Jay, then back to Jisoo, unimpressed. "It's a robot, Jay. Not your bias."Â Â
Jay just shrugs, unbothered. "Bias or not, she deserves only the best."Â Â
He glances down at the robot, which blinks its eyes open and closed with a soft whirring noise, its chubby plastic arms flopping lifelessly by its sides. Â
There's a beat of silence as you both stare down at it, unsure of what to do next. Â
"It's kind of creepy, right?" you finally mutter, breaking the knowing silence between you two. Â
Jay snorts. "Not even 'kind of.' A lot." He leans in to inspect it, his brows furrowed, "So, does it justâŠsit there?â Â
You huff, already pulling out the meticulously detailed notes you took during class. "No, it's on schedule. It says here it won't eat for another three hours and it has a clean diaper, so everything should be fine. Babies are predictable once you understand their needs, Jay."Â Â
Jay lifts an eyebrow as he turns to face you, "Right...because in real life, babies are totally like robots and are totally predictable. Got it."Â Â
You open your mouth to respond, probably with something unnecessarily snarky (you don't know what yet though, you haven't gotten to that part yet), when a loud, high-pitched wail shatters the air, cutting through the now-empty classroom you two are in. The robot baby's face contorts into an exaggerated crying expression, its mechanical arms flailing (which you didn't even know was possible) like it's preparing for takeoff.Â
"What theâ" Jay instinctively jumps back like Jisoo is a grenade on her last few seconds. "Why's it doing that? What did you do?"Â Â
"I didnât do anything!" You snap, panic slowly rising as you flip through your notes quickly. "It's not supposed to be crying! It shouldn't be hungry, and it's definitely not tired yet!"Â Â
The wailing intensifies, vibrating through the room as the cries echo louder and louder, Jisoo clearly not caring about your carefully crafted timeline. You glance down at your schedule. Why is it crying? Â
You groan and snatch Jisoo out of the carrier, awkwardly holding her in a way that's probably not safe for any life form, real or otherwise. The wailing doesn't stop. In fact, it gets louder, as if Jisoo's personally offended by your existence. Â
"Hold her!" You quickly thrust her into Jay's arms, a horrified expression written all over his face. "You deal with it."Â Â
"Deal with what? It's a robot!" Jay stares at the baby in his arms like it's going to explode. "Oh god, are we even sure this is safe?"Â Â
"Yes, Jay! It's a baby!" You're sure you're borderline going insane from the combination of the screeching baby and Jay's apparent lack of brain cells. Â
Jay's eyes widen as Jisoo practically vibrates with the force of its cries. He tries to mimic the way you were holding her, cradling her against his chest like she's made of glass. It doesn't help. Jisoo keeps wailing, and now Jay looks genuinely distressed.Â
"Uh, shh, little buddy, it's okay...Should I, like, burp it? Sing to it?"Â Â
âSing?â You give him a look like heâs completely lost it, but Jayâs already humming off-key under his breath.Â
The baby, predictably, continues screeching.Â
You both just stand there, staring at the baby, then at each other, the panic palpable in the room. Jay continues bouncing it lightly, as if this will magically solve everything. âDoes it have an off switch?â he asks, glancing at you like you've parented a robot baby before.Â
You continue to frantically flip through your notes, pages rustling in a blur. âNo, Jay! We canât just turn off our baby!âÂ
âWell, I donât know, Y/N, but Iâm pretty sure babies arenât supposed to sound like theyâre summoning a demon,â Jay retorts, his tone climbing the ladder of panic. "Maybe she's hungry or something."Â Â
Youâre still too busy scanning your notes as you shake your head in disagreement. âIt canât be hungry, it's not supposed to be!"Â Â
Jay just shakes his head, gently cradling the baby even though he's sure it's about to lift off into space from how much it was shaking right now.Â
âSometimes you canât schedule everything, Y/N. Maybe it just needs a bottle, like, right now.âÂ
The idea frustrates you. âBut itâs not time yet. If we feed it off-schedule, itâll mess everything up for the day.âÂ
The babyâs cries reach a shrill pitch, like itâs protesting your protest. Jay looks at you, then back at the crying baby, then back at you again.Â
âI think itâs already messed up, so maybe we just... feed it?â he says, half-grinning, half-exasperated.Â
You hesitate. It feels wrong. Babies are supposed to follow patterns, stick to a routine...or so you thought. You let out a frustrated sigh, your brain bleeding from the sheer sound of the glass-breaking screams. Â
âFine,â you mutter, grabbing the bottle from the supply bag. âBut if this throws off the whole schedule, itâs your fault.âÂ
Jay grins, but thereâs something softer in his expression behind it as he watches you struggle with the bottle...and your need for control. âDeal.âÂ
You hand the bottle to him, and he places the nipple into the babyâs mouth. The wailing stops almost instantly. The sudden silence is deafening, and both of you are stunned for a moment, looking down at the baby whoâs now peacefully drinking.Â
You let out a small gasp of relief and turn your head up to look at Jay, who's widened eyes meet yours. Â
Jay lets out a held breath. âWell. That was traumatic.âÂ
You roll your eyes, though thereâs a slight twitch at the corner of your lips as you mutter, âI think I just lost three years of my life."Â Â
Jay watches as you carefully take Jisoo from his arms and place her back into the carrier, making sure everything is in order. Heâs still catching his breath, but he glances at youârelaxed, for once, after the panicâand it makes him feel something weird. He almost laughs.Â
âI dunno,â he says, a little teasingly. âI think we handled that pretty well.âÂ
âGreat, now just five weeks and six days of this left." You give him a look, but thereâs a tiny, fleeting smile this time. "I just don't understand why it was crying. It's not supposed to need food untilâ"Â Â
Jay cuts you off with a chuckle. âY/N, itâs a baby. Real ones donât run on algorithms. They just... cry when they need something. Like this little gal. I mean, you can't exactly schedule crying, right?âÂ
The silence stretches for a moment as you watch him, realization dawning a little slower than youâd like to admit. âI guess,â you mutter reluctantly, earning yourself a content-looking Jay. Â
"Look at usâteam effort," Jay says, as he beams a smile to you before glancing at Jisoo. "We're naturals at this whole parenting thing."Â Â
"Yeah, okay," you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face says differently as you reach out to unnecessarily fuss with the small blanket in Jisoo's carrier. Â
Jay's eyes light up at your response. "A smile? The Y/N gave me a smile? Admit it, we make a great team, huh?"Â Â
You scoff, but the smile on your face proves there's no bite to itâJay knows there's no bite to it. Â
Maybe, just maybe, he has a point. Â
You'd never admit it to him, though.Â
Not yet. Â
To your pleasant surprise, the past two weeks have been...weirdly smooth. Like, suspiciously smooth. You and Jay have somehow managed to fall into an actual routineâdropping off and picking up Jisoo like two semi-functional adults who almost know what theyâre doing. You still wouldnât call it 'seamless', as Jay himself struggled with having a consistent schedule for once in his life, but at least youâve gotten through the weeks without major incidents or spontaneous combustion.Â
That doesn't mean you'll admit to anyoneâleast of all yourselfâthat you and Jay might actually make a decent team. His parenting methods are still objectively abysmal...to you, at least. I mean, just the other day, he almost put Jisoo's diaper on upside down. Upside down. You didn't even know that was possible, but leave it to Jay to surprise you more and more. Â
Despite his questionable approach to baby care, Jisoo's still alive (you think), and somehow you've managed not to explode at him yet (key word: yet). So, that's...something, I guess. Â
Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely. Â
It's Sunday, and miraculously, you've managed to give yourself the evening off. No cafĂ© shift, no emergency club meetings. The stars have aligned, and for once, you have free time. And what did you decide to do with this rare gift from the universe? Â
Spent it with Jay. Parenting. Together. In his apartment. Â
You blame Professor Kim for this cruel twist of fate. Something about submitting photographic evidence of co-parenting. After all, this is a partner project. Â
Teamwork, she called it. Â
You like to call it pure suffering. Â
Which brings you here, standing outside Jay's apartment with a tote bag of baby supplies on one shoulder, Jisoo's carrier on the other, and a silent prayer on your lips. If this apartment is even half the disaster you're imaginingâfrat house, landfill, or some unholy combination of bothâyou're fully prepared to turn around and run for the hills. Â
You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever horrors await behind the door, and knock three times. Â
Precisely five seconds later, the door swings open, and...yep, there's Jay. His hair is a mess, his clothes are rumpled, and you can't tell if he's been a) napping, b) playing video games, or c) all of the above. Â
"Hey," he greets you with a lazy grin, eyes half-lidded like he's still half-asleep. Â
It's 6PM. Â
You stare at him, deadpan. "You look like you've been hit by a truck."Â Â
Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow. "You should see the truck."Â Â
Before you can fire back with something equally sarcastic, you catch a glimpse of his apartment over his shoulder, andâyou blink, confused. Wait. Wait. Â
Well this can't be right. Â
You were expecting a disaster. Maybe a few pizza boxes, a stray sock on the floor, some suspicious stains on the couch. But no. Instead...it's clean. Like, really clean. Â
The floors are spotless, there's a shelf with neatly stacked books, and are those...framed photos on the walls? Like, actual art? Your own apartment doesn't even have actual art, just print outs from Walgreens of photos you thought were cute on Pinterest and your Justin Bieber posters you got from a magazine back in high-school. Damn, now you're starting to feel ashamed. Â
You do a double-take, your brain struggling to process what's happening, as Jay still stands in front of you, confused at your gawking. "Y/N? You good?"Â Â
You snap your mouth shut, as you spot a vacuum neatly tucked in the corner of the living room. "I...I'm just surprised you even know what a vacuum is."Â
"You'll learn I'm full of surprises, Miss Y/N," he says, casually leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you, his gaze making you shift in your stance in front of him. "Come on in."Â Â
You step inside cautiously, like you're waiting for something to jump out at youâmaybe a camera with someone saying 'You've been pranked, this isn't Jay's actual apartment!' Â
But nope. His apartment is just...nice. It smells like eucalyptus and citrus, for crying out loud. Â
You set Jisoo's carrier down on the couch, the robot itself still fast asleep, as your eyes scan the room, still half-expecting to find a hidden mess somewhere. But instead, something else catches your attention. Â
On the wall, next to his kitchen, there's a collection of professional-looking photographs, all framed neatly. This is what caught your eye earlier. You find yourself slowly walking closer to get a closer look: landscapes, city stresses, a few candid shots of peopleâall in the same style, same camera quality, same angles. You tilt your head, intrigued.
Jay comes up behind you to see what you're looking at and you turn to him, "Are these...yours?"Â
"Oh," he scratches the back of his neck, looking almost shy. "Yeah. I do some photography sometimes. Just a hobby."Â Â
You blink up at him. Jay Park? A photographer? This was not on your Jay Park Bingo card.Â
"Huh," you say, before realizing how dumb you sound. "I didn't know you were into that."Â Â
"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Y/N. Full of surprises, remember?" Jay replies, his head tilting to match yours with a cocky smile, whichâugh, okay fineâmakes you feel just the tiniest bit flustered. Not that you'll admit it. Â
"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow. "And here I thought your only hobbies were napping and showing up late."Â
"That's just the surface level," he says with a wink, walking over to his coffee table and grabbing his laptop. "I was actually editing photos before you showed up."Â
Intrigued, you follow him to the couch and sit beside him as he flips open the laptop. You squint at the editing software on the screenâfull of layers, sliders, and all sorts of professional-looking tools that immediately make your head hurt. Jay scrolls through the images, and honestly?
Theyâre good. Really good. Like, if you didnât know better, youâd think some of them could be in a magazine. And not the kind of magazine you got your Bieber Fever posters in. Â
"Wow," you say, nodding, genuinely impressed. "Thatâs⊠actually really cool."Â
Jay freezes, his head snapping toward you with a look of disbelief. He stares at you, eyes narrowing like youâve just broken some unspoken rule. "It's been ten seconds...you just gave me an actual compliment without a sarcastic follow-up."Â Â
You let out a small giggle. "Geez, you always make me sound like some soulless witch or something."Â Â
Jay grins, leaning back in mock thought. "I mean⊠soulless witch might be a bit much. But, like⊠emotionally unavailable overlord? Maybe."Â
You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, the sound catching Jay off guard. He looks at you, wide-eyed, like heâs just witnessed a rare phenomenon. And maybe he hasâbecause even you canât remember the last time you laughed this freely. Â
"Wow. I should annoy you more often," Jay smirks, clearly way too satisfied with himself. Youâre not entirely sure if he meant it to sound that smooth, but your brain certainly processed it that way. Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, and you quickly clear your throat, a small, flustered smile playing at your lips.Â
You try to gather yourself, praying your voice doesnât betray you. "Donât push your luck, Park," you manage, but the teasing edge in your voice is softer than usualâway softer. And, of course, Jay knows it. You know it. Youâre still smiling, andâunfortunately for youâso is he.Â
Jay suddenly clears his throat as he shifts in his seat, "So...should we order like a pizza or something? Are you hungry?"Â Â
And because the universe apparently has a personal vendetta against you, your stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a soundâone that resembles between a whaleâs mating call and a frog being strangled.Â
Jay stifles a laugh, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Okay⊠pizza it is."Â
âShut up,â you mutter, giving him a playful shove thatâs just enough to make him fall back into the couch cushions.Â
"No, you tell your stomach to shut up," Jay snickers, grabbing his phone to place the order.Â
Youâre about to fire back with somethingâanythingâbut a soft wail interrupts you from the baby carrier.Â
"Someone needs attention," you say, scooping Jisoo up and cradling her in your arms. âItâs about time for her to eat anyway.âÂ
As you juggle Jisoo with one hand and dig through the baby bag for her fake bottle of milk with the other, Jay watches you from his spot on the couch, a curious look in his eyes. âWhile you feed her, Iâll take care of the pizza. Iâm guessing youâre more of a plain cheese type, huh?âÂ
You freeze for a second, then whip your head around to give him a mock-offended look. âFirst, you think Iâm a soulless witch, and now boring? I at least add pepperoni and sausage. Give me some credit.âÂ
"Okay, okay, noted," Jay lifts his hands up in surrender, "So adventurous. I'll remember that next time you call me irresponsible."Â Â
You roll your eyes at him as you adjust Jisoo in your arms, holding the bottle steady at her mouth. Itâs quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft hum of your fake baby and Jay tapping on his phone.Â
Suddenly Jay puts his phone down, turning to you with an unreadable expression. âYouâre really serious about this whole parenting thing, huh?âÂ
You blink, still rocking Jisoo in your arms. You're thrown off by the sudden shift and sincerity in his tone. Â
âWell⊠yeah. I think itâs important, you know? Responsibility, structure⊠thatâs what makes people feel safe. Especially kids. They need to know theyâre taken care of.âÂ
Jayâs expression shifts as he listens, a more thoughtful look settling on his face. âYou're a strong believer of that, aren't you? Structure and schedules and all that?"Â Â
His voice is a lot quieter now, lower, and you realize you've never really had a serious conversation (that wasn't a class debate) with him beforeâat least not long enough to hear this version of Jay. The serious Jay. And if you're being honest, it's making you a bit flustered. You hesitate, hoping your voice doesn't crack or something equally embarrassing. Â
âI mean⊠I guess so. I was raised that way. My parents always had everything planned out. It was like...nothing ever went wrong because there was always a system, a backup plan.âÂ
Jay raises an eyebrow, leaning forward a little in his seat. âBut didnât that feel, I donât know... suffocating? Like, what if things donât go according to plan? You canât control everything.âÂ
Your first instinct is to scoff, but something stops you. It's a valid question, and for some reason, you donât feel the need to throw up your usual defenses for once. That's new. Â
âMaybe sometimes,â you admit. âBut I donât know any other way. It just feels like if youâre not prepared, things fall apart. And thatâs the worst feelingâlike watching everything crumble because you werenât ready for it.âÂ
Jay is quiet, studying you with an intensity that feels new. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced with something more serious. âYeah, I get that. I didnât have a lot of structure growing up. Parents were kinda⊠there, but not really. I think thatâs why I donât plan much. Life happens whether youâre ready or not.âÂ
You blink as you sit back in your seat, absorbing his words. Itâs the first time youâve really thought about Jay outside of his 'laid-back' image of him you've had in your head, and honestly, youâre surprised by how heavy his words feel.Â
âButâŠyouâre actually good with Jisoo,â you say, almost cautiously, unsure if youâre diving into uncharted territory. âYouâve been handling this project better than I thought you would.âÂ
Jay laughs softly, shaking his head as he looks at Jisoo in your arms. âItâs just a robot baby, Y/N. No big deal if I mess up.âÂ
"Itâs not just about the robot baby,â you counter, realizing you're saying more than you intended. âYou actually care. Youâre not graded on how well you change diapers or keep her entertained, but youâre still putting in effort. Youâre trying. And that matters.âÂ
There's a beat of silence as you see Jay pause. For once, he doesn't have a comeback. Instead, he's just looking at youâreally looking at youâlike he's trying to figure something out, and you feel the heat slowly creeping back onto your face. You're sure you're turning an unflattering shade of red under his gaze on you, and part of you, no, all of you, is begging for him to say something immediately before you combust. Â
Then, with a suddenness that almost makes you jump, he leans over and nudges your arm lightly. âOkay, Dr. Phil. Don't go getting all soft on me now."Â Â
You let out a playful scoff to mask your relief, thankful for the release of tension in the air. But something about the conversation lingers in the air, hanging like a question neither of you is ready to ask. And despite the teasing, your mind canât help but circle back to how Jay had looked at youâserious, curious⊠something else.Â
Before you can dwell on it too long, the doorbell rings. Saved by the pizza gods. Jay springs up from the couch to answer the door, and you gently place the now-snoozing Jisoo back in her carrier. The conversation still swirls in your head as you watch Jay grab the pizza, too caught up in your thoughts to not even question how suspiciously fast it arrived.Â
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, watching Jay at the door from your spot on the couch, your thoughts too heavy for someone who is literally holding a pizza box.Â
For someone who sure likes to plan everything out, you definitely werenât prepared for Jay Parkâand how he's quickly becoming the exception to every rule you've ever made.Â
âă».ă»â«
The first thing that jars you awake is a piercing screamâJisoo's, of course. Your eyes shoot open as you squint into the dim light, your eyes adjusting and blinking your way out of the accidental nap you fell into. You're trying to make sense of your surroundings through your blurry vision when...it hits you. Â
This isn't your room. You're still at Jay's apartment, wedged into the corner of his couch, and apparently, you fell asleep. Post-pizza-food-coma style. And also apparently, your mutual robot child has decided now was a perfect time for a meltdown. Â
The second thing you notice is the faint background noise of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire still playing on Jay's TV in front of you. Your memory jogs back to when you two finally came to a consensus on which movie to watch over dinner, and naturally, the deciding factor ended up being 'young Robert Pattinson,' and no, it wasn't your deciding factor. You didn't expect Jay to even have an opinion on this, but apparently, his love for Cedric Diggory is a hill he's willing to die on. Â
And then... that brings us to the third thing. A sound from the other end of the couchâJay's soft snores. You two must have dozed off at some point during the movie somehow and of course, he's still passed out cold, totally oblivious to the screams of robotic despair coming from the baby carrier seated between you two. You glance over at him, out cold with his head tilted back, looking completely unbothered by Jisoo's increasingly offended screams. Â
But even through all these realizations, what really slaps you awake, more than Jisoo or Jay or Cedric Diggory, is the smell. It hits you like a rogue sock to the face, and for a moment, you're convinced that Jay definitely has some biological-grade garbage decomposing somewhere in the apartment after all. The smell is like a powerful, radioactive wave, and all you can think is, What in the world is this guy hiding in here? And why is it now coming to life? Â
You sit up from your spot, still half-asleep, and follow the foul scent in horror until you realize the source. Â
Jisoo. Â
Sure, you have changed Jisoo's diapers plenty of times over the last two weeks, but before? There was no smell. At most, you get these weird, vaguely sticky robotic poops in her diaper that barely registered. Now? Now itâs like Professor Kim somehow remotely gave Jisoo a software update and coded her to emit a scent so pungent that it feels borderline illegal. You're convinced this is Jisooâs final boss formâpeak realism unlockedâsolely just to spite you and your nostrils.
While youâre here on one end of the couch, one button away from confirming an Amazon Prime order to ship over a bottle of bleach for you to dip your nose into, Jay is still in blissful dreamland, not even flinching. You stare at him in disbelief, hoping your sheer mental outage might magically wake him up. No such luck.Â
You grab the throw pillow that's wedged under you and chuck in right at his face. Â
"Jay!" You're still half-asleep, so your voice comes out like a strangled whisper, somewhere between pleading and passive-aggressive murder. Â
Jay jolts, sitting up with a sleepy yelp, blinking in confusion. "Huh? What happened? Is Cedric okay?" His panicked gaze darts around the room wildly before they finally settle on you, across the couch.Â
"What happened?" You raise a finger to the screaming, stinky, betrayal-machine between you two. "That happened, Jay. Jisoo happened."Â Â
Jay blinks slowly, squinting at Jisoo, his brain clearly struggling to boot up, and then makes the fatal mistake of sniffing the air. The realization suddenly dawns slowly, and you can see the look of horror hit.
"Oh my god, how is she even capable of...of that?!" His voice breaks three octaves as his hand shoots up to pinch his nose. Â
"I don't know!" You squawk, equally traumatized. "She's never done this beforeâI didn't even know she could!"Â Â
Jay groans and rubs his eyes, hoping this is all a bad, bad dream. No such luck, yet again. He glances around helplessly. "So, uh, who's changing her?"Â Â
You shoot him a glare as you get up from the couch and start looking for the baby bag. "We're changing her, Jay."Â Â
"We?" Jay winces, inching towards Jisoo with all the enthusiasm one has when approaching a radioactive waste barrel. He slowly reaches down to take Jisoo out from the carrier and he starts muttering to himself. "Great. Fine, this is fine. Just another bonding moment with our adorable robo-daughter."Â Â
He finally picks her up, reluctantly holding her at arm's length like she's a ticking time bomb. It's so ridiculous that, despite the war-crime-level smell permeating the room, you can't help the small laugh that you let out. Â
"What?" Jay glares at you, though a look of amusement tugs at his lips. "You think this is funny?"Â Â
"No," you say, barely stifling your giggles. "It's justâyou're holding her like she's about to explode."Â Â
Jay gives you a doubtful look. "Y/N, I'm not convinced she's not about to explode."Â Â
You shake your head, still giggling as you shuffle the carrier off the couch and lay out a blanket, turning Jay's couch surface into a makeshift changing station. "Alright, c'mon. Lay her down and hold her legs up. I'll handle clean-up duty. And maybe...brace yourself."Â Â
Jay exhales like a man about to face his greatest fear. He gently lays Jisoo down and lifts her legs up with the tips of his fingers, his face still contorted as if you're both dealing with a toxic hazard. At this point, it probably is. Â
"Oh my god," he breathes. "This is it. This is how I die."Â Â
You crouch down in position so you're at level with the couch and say a mental prayer before you pull open the tiny diaper. The moment you do, the both of you immediately recoil as a scent that should not even be allowed to exist wafts up and fills the room. Â
âOh god.âÂ
The scent is so ungodly it feels like it came from the depths of hell itself and punched you both right in the face. It doesnât just waft upâit attacks. Youâre pretty sure you lost at least another three years off your life from one breath alone.Â
"That's not legal," Jay chokes as he flings himself back at the sight, dropping Jisooâs little toes in the process, flailing around as if the air itself betrayed him. "There's no way that's legal."Â
You freeze in sheer horror, staring at the scene before you: Jisooâs somehow realistic poop smeared across every surface of her bottom it possibly could spread to, the stench intensifying with every passing second.
Jay starts pacing the room, spiraling into an existential crisis. âNo, no, no, this isnât normal. This isâthis is a crime scene! This canât be right.âÂ
âJay,â your voice is muffled as a hand tries to cover both your nose and mouth from the contaminated air, âfocus!âÂ
Jay looks at you from across the living room, wide-eyed and pale, like a deer caught in headlights. âYou expect me toâin this economyââÂ
âGrab. The. Wipes.â
Jay groans and he stumbles back towards you, hesitantly rifling through the baby bag. His hands finally find the pack of wipes and he peers over your shoulder from behind you, as if youâre his shield.Â
âAre you just gonna stand there, or are you going to help?â
âI am helping,â Jay protests weakly, waving the pack of wipes like theyâre a magic wand that might save you both.
You roll your eyes and turn back to Jisoo, âOkay, grab her legs again. Iâll wipe.âÂ
His eyes watch in horror as he reaches over you to take hold of the robotâs feet. With a deep breath, you start furiously scrubbing Jisooâs little body, trying your best to breathe as minimally as possible, sticking your hand out towards Jay whenever you need a new wipe.Â
âI signed up for fake parenting, not surviving a biohazard. This isnât bonding; this is trauma,â Jay incoherently mumbles, placing a wipe in your hand.Â
"I think this trauma is exactly what we're supposed to be learning and 'bonding' from," you retort, carefully tossing a soiled wipe into the designated waste bag. Â
"Oh, so Professor Kim is forcing us to bond over mutual suffering? Very sweet," Jay deadpans as he hands you another wipe.Â
"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."Â Â
Finally, after you definitely lost three years of your life, the horror show is over. Jisoo is cleaned, diapered, andâsomehowâactually looks peaceful for once. Like she didn't just commit a crime against humanity.Â
Jay exhales, looking at her with a newfound joy. "Well. She's definitely...less terrifying when she's not screaming and emitting toxic fumes."Â Â
You plop yourself on the couch and cradle Jisoo like she's a tiny, innocent angel instead of the cause of your collective suffering. âIâm genuinely afraid to know what they put in her system for this to happen.âÂ
Jay collapses onto the couch beside you, visibly relieved. "Whatever it was, we did it. We survived. We did that."Â
You can't help but laugh, still a bit punch-drunk from the adrenaline and exhaustion of it all. "We better get an A+ on this project."Â Â
Jay chuckles, leaning his head back against the couch. The room falls into a brief silence, just the two of you sitting there, basking in the weird accomplishment of it all. Then, as if on cue, you both start laughingâa deep, exhausting kind of laugh that two people only share after a 'you had to be there' type moment. There's something about the whole ordealâhow ridiculous, how hilariously awful it wasâthat just makes it impossible to not laugh. Â
Jay grins, nudging your shoulder with his. "Now do you think we make a pretty good team?"Â Â
You roll your eyes at him. "I don't know...depends."Â Â
Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"Â Â
"Depends on whether you can make it through the rest of the project without crying again," you quip, lips twitching into an amused grin. Â
Jay gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "Excuse you, I did not cry. My eyes were sweating from Jisoo's toxic fumes. A completely normal biological response, thank you very much."Â Â
"Sure, Jay," you deadpan, shaking your head. Â
"Besides," he continues, leaning back smugly, "I did all the heavy lifting. Literally. I held the live grenade."Â Â
You snort, glancing down at Jisoo in your arms before handing her off to Jay. "You're unbelievable."Â Â
"And you're stuck with me, partner," he grins back, rocking Jisoo in his arms. "You too, Jisoo."Â
You lean back into the couch, watching Jay coo at the now-peaceful baby. Somewhere between his flair for over-the-top dramatics, his secret love for young Robert Pattinson, and (for some reason) endearing passion for photography, you realizeâŠmaybe Jay Park isnât the complete disaster you thought he was.Â
"Yeah," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I really am stuck with you."Â Â
And for the first time since this ridiculous project started, you don't mind that as much as you thought you would. Â
Jay would like to make a few things clear.Â
First of all, none of this is his fault.Â
He hopes you understand that, as his thumbs fly over the keyboard of his phone like his life depends on it. Because in a way, it does.Â
Jay [11:32 AM]: âi swear itâs not my fault, but my friend, jake, his entire load of laundry is now the color of strawberry milk. and apparently iâm the only one that can help him. can I drop jisoo off with you for like⊠an hour? tops?âÂ
He stares at his phone, waiting for your response like you hold the key to his survival. Because, in a way, you do.Â
He hears Jisoo coo from her carrier, like even she knows how dire this situation is. Finally, his phone lights up with a buzz.Â
Y/N [11:33 AM]: âiâm volunteering at a dog adoption event on campus, but sure, drop her off here :)âÂ
Jay blinks at his phone. A dog adoption event. Of course, you'd be saving puppies on a Saturday. Of course. Like some kind of unreasonably perfect human. And here he is, about to save a fully grown man from having to wear solely pink t-shirts for the next week. Fantastic. Â Â
With a sigh, Jay turns to Jisoo, who blinks back a stare that can only be described as the (robot) baby equivalent of good luck, bro.Â
By the time Jay reaches campus, he's bombarded with the sight and sound of...dogs. Dogs everywhere. It's as if he's entered the chaotic lovechild of a Disney movie and a petting zoo, complete with wags, barks, and the smell of kibble. And then he sees you.Â
You're smack in the middle of a fenced playpen, laughing, surrounded by every breed of fluffy chaos imaginable and passerbys cooing 'aww' at the sight. And what a sight it is. Â
You look ridiculously happy, and for some reason, that makes something in Jay's chest feel weirdly tight. He wonders what it must feel like to be able to make you smile that widely, that brightly. It's unnerving. He's not used to seeing you so relaxed, so contentâor maybe he's just not used to noticing how good you look when you're not glaring at him. Â
"Y/N!" a voice calls from the volunteer tent, snapping Jay out of his daydream. Jay watches from the distance as you haul a golden retriever pup into your arms and walk over to the tent, naturally falling into conversation with your friend and immediately organizing papers. Meanwhile, Jay stands there, dumbfounded at your unbothered, graceful rhythm that you seem to fall into like second nature.Â
Jay thought he had you figured out, filed neatly in his mental drawer of uptight-control-freaks-that-happen-to-smell-like-roses-and-have-perfect-smiles, but now? Something about the way you look right nowâso confident, so caring, so...naturalâcatches him off guard.
Now, you're like some serene multitasking goddess in the middle of pure chaos. Â
That brings us to the second thing Jay would like to clarify (more so to himself): he definitely doesn't think you look good in, like, an attractive sense, or anything insane like that. Absolutely not. He just is simply impressed at how you seem to manage and carry yourself quite elegantly. This is pure admiration. Admiration, okay? Â
But...while he's here, staring in 'admiration', it suddenly hits himâyou're not just good at taking care of Jisoo. You're good at taking care of everything. Â
And that makes his heart do a weird flip. Â
The realization that he's been staring for way too long jolts him back to the present. Focus, Jay. There's a Jake somewhere out there, lost in a sea of pink underwear. Â
Jisoo carrier in hand, Jay manages to push his way through the dog-packed crowds until he reaches you, but the second you turn around, flashing him that wide, carefree smile that he's still not used to, he's back to stumbling over himself. Â
Heâs 99% sure he audibly gulps.Â
âOh, Jay, you made it!â you say, shifting the puppy to one side of your arms to free a hand to grab Jisoo's carrier immediately. Your smile is disarmingly genuine. Jay thinks he may need to sit down. Â
âUh, yeahâum, thanks for taking Jisoo," he swallows, his voice barely steady as he's unsure what this feeling is that came over him. He doesn't know if it's the fact that he's seeing you in a completely different light right now, carrying both a live, adorable puppy, and a (not-so-live) baby, but something is different, and he's at a loss for words. "You look prettyâuhâŠbusy.â Â
He curses himself. Busy? Really?Â
âOh, no biggie,â you give him an easy, encouraging grin, one so casual that it really shouldn't make his knees feel like Jell-O. "Honestly, I'd be out here every weekend if I could. But you of all people know my schedule."Â Â
Of course, you'd say something like that. Jay tries to think of a normal response, but his brain is spinning with all sorts of not-normal things about youâlike how you look so aggressively pretty right now.Â
And itâs a little infuriating.Â
"Yeah, no, totally," Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Because who doesn't want to be covered in dog hair and slobber for fun?"Â Â
You roll your eyes, smiling. "Says the guy who's about to be knee-deep in a laundry crisis. Isn't that a little messy, too?"Â Â
Jay huffs, feeling himself return just a little bit back to normal. âListen, Jakeâs a special case, okay? You canât just leave him in that pink laundry disaster and expect him to survive.âÂ
"Right..," you laugh, rocking back and forth on your feet, your smile lingering as a comfortable silence falls between you. Â
Maybe it's the way you're looking up at him, or the fact that a literal golden retriever is currently nuzzled into your neck, but Jay is doing everything in his power to keep his cool. You're looking at him in a way that isn't remotely judgmental (for once), and it's throwing him completely off-balance. Â
Before Jay can pull it together and say something else, another voice calls your name, waving you over to a different table. You turn back to Jay, giving him an apologetic glance. Â
"Do you mind watching Jisooâand, um, this puppyâfor a sec?"Â Â
Before he can answer, or even process your words, he's standing there with an actual puppy in one arm, and Jisoo in her carrier in the other, and his life has become a circus he never auditioned for. Â
"Sorry! They just need me real quick!" You say with a grateful smile as you hurry off. Â
As you rush off with another apologetic smile, Jay's brain, for better or for worse, decides that grin of yours is now his mental screensaver. He watches you go, dumbly smiling before he catches himself.Â
Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction. Â
He looks down at his armsâone occupied by a carrier with a robot baby, the other holding a wriggly puppy. Â
"Bet no one's ever been in this situation before," he mutters, awkwardly standing there as he waits for your return. Honestly, Jay has never felt so awkward or nervous before. Right now, he feels like the epitome of the standing emoji, just simply existing and there, waiting for your next command and hoping he doesn't screw it up. Â
Jay tries to hype himself up. You can do this, Park. It's just a dog. And a baby. And you.You've got this. You totally having everything undâÂ
Before he can finish his mental pep talk, the sound of your laughter rings from across the event, making Jay's head snap over in record time. He tries not to lookâhe really doesâbut the sound is too angelic to not. But right when he does look over, he immediately wishes he didn't.Â
You're standing there between two of your friends, and you're giggling. With some guy he's never seen before. And this guy, is nudging your shoulder and making you laugh so hard you're practically doubling over. He feels a distinct twist in his chest.Â
Jayâs definitely not jealous. Nope. Not even a little. It's just...curiosity. Pure, innocent curiosity about what that guy could possibly be saying to make you laugh so hard. Because Jay has never seen you laugh like that with himâever.
And suddenly, the longer you continue laughing with that guy, Jay feels something hot and uncomfortable bubbling up inside. Â
Fine, itâs jealousy. Â
Definitely jealousy. He scowls at himself. Now heâs basically a bitter standing emoji, clinging to Jisoo and a puppy while glaring from afar.Â
And there Jay stands, bitterness levels maxed, holding both a puppy and a robot baby, while across the way, your roommate Esther gives you a knowing smirk while you're recovering from your giggling fit. Your giggling fit which was caused by Heeseung making a comment about how he stepped in dog poop more times than the average human-being accidentally should. Â
âYou didnât tell me that was Jay Park,â Esther says, trying not-so-subtly to sneak a glance at the bitter standing emoji himself, awkwardly shifting his feet in the distance, avoiding to look in your direction. âYou said he was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around. You didnât mention heâs a total cutie.âÂ
âHe was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around,â you scoff, though you're clearly not thinking that right now as you catch a glance of him trying to balance both the puppy and Jisoo. "But...I don't think he's so bad anymore."Â Â
You definitely don't add that he's a total cutie. Okay, maybe you think it, but saying it out loud is a whole other thing. Â
âOh, so you totally like him,â Heeseung snickers from your other side, nudging you again. Â
You make a sound that's half out-of-tune trumpet, half hiccup, before breaking into a laugh to cover your sudden panic. "No, I don't!" You clear your throat, trying to stay cool. Â
"We're justâlook, we're just stuck together for this project. That's all. Even if I did like him, which I don't, he definitely doesn't like me back. We're probably just going to go back to bickering with each other to no end."Â Â
âRight,â Heeseung chimes in, giving you a look that says he's clearly unconvinced. âJust saying, thoughâsomeone who doesnât like you wouldnât be staring at you like that, and looking at me like I just committed a third-degree crime just for breathing in your direction."Â Â
You follow Heeseungâs gaze and, sure enough, you catch Jay trying to look casual while bouncing the puppy and acting like he totally didnât just get caught. Your eyes meet, and he does a 180 so fast he nearly launches Jisoo into orbit.Â
You quickly turn back to your friends, heat rising to your face as you catch Esther and Heeseung giving each other a knowing look before smirking at you. You roll your eyes and grab the both of them by the back of their shirts, turning them in the direction of the event, "Okay, okay, enough with the delusions. Shouldn't you guys be signing off some puppies or something?"Â Â
"Don't say we didn't tell you so!" Esther calls after you as you turn on your heels towards Jay, furiously convincing yourself that they're so wrong. Â
There's no universe in which Jay Park, the Jay Park, would ever be into you. The Jay Park, who can get any girl he wants, the Jay Park who's just too different from you, the Jay Park who you proclaimed your school rival (self-proclaimed). Absolutely not. Â
When you get back to him, Jayâs desperately trying to look naturalâso, naturally, heâs scratching the puppyâs belly while Jisoo clings to his chest like a tiny koala. Your heart gives a little traitorous squeeze, but you ignore it. Get a hold of yourself, Y/N. Â
âLooks like he likes you,â you say, trying to sound casual as you nod to the puppy, who's squirming excitedly under Jay's attention.Â
âHeâs adorable,â Jay replies, blushing faintly as he shifts the puppy around. âSo, uh, everything okay over there?â he asks, totally not imagining a deep, romantic conversation to explain your laughter.Â
Youâre caught off-guard, blinking, wondering if Jay somehow became psychic and caught onto your previous train of thoughts about him, until you realize what he meant. âOh! Yeah, they just⊠needed help with paperwork.âÂ
Jayâs expression hardens ever so slightly as he tries to imagine a world where paperwork could possibly be that funny. âCool, cool,â he nods stiffly, side-eyeing Heeseung in the distance whoâs still chatting with Esther.Â
"Well," Jay shifts awkwardly as clears his throat, "I should get going to Jake. He's probably in tears by now, honestly."Â Â
You frown at that, and Jay instantly self-identifies himself as the worst person on the planet. He barely resists the urge to apologize for everything he's ever done, from breathing in your direction to any other crime against humanity he's committed in your eyes. Â
"Aw, come on," you say, teasingly, though even you're not sure why. It's just...fun having him around. "Stay a little longer. For the puppies!"Â Â
Jay opens his mouth, fully ready to decline when he catches sight of your expressionâthose big, pleading eyes that make it impossible to say no.Â
And that's it. He's doomed. Right then and there, Jay knows he's doomed. Â
Is Jay currently surrounded by more puppies than he ever thought could physically exist in one place? Yes.Â
Does he think your puppy eyes are somehow cuter than all the puppies combined? Annoyingly, also yes. Â
And so, Jay would like to make some new things clear, for the record:Â Â
First, there is no way any of this is his fault. If Jake ends up crying over outfit choices and demands to know why Jay ditched him for puppies, Jay has a rock-solid explanation. Heâll explain the situation, which obviously couldnât be helped. Hanging out with you? Totally justified. Perfectly valid. Â
And second, wellâJay would like to clarify that it's official now. Whatever he was feeling before? Yeah, definitely attraction. Â
Your fingers drum against your blanket. You stare blankly at your bedroom ceiling. You let out another deep sigh. You toss and turn, adjusting your position for maybe the hundredth time. It's no use. You're bored. Â
And that, in itself, is a shocking revelation. You're never bored. Your schedule is usually packed to the brimâbetween assignments, club meetings, work shifts, and impromptu Save the Puppies campaigns, there's hardly room for boredom. But today? Â
Today, life has gifted you a rare stretch of free time. No assignments to finish, no midterms to study for, no dog adoption events or cafĂ© shifts. And apparently, you have no idea how to handle that. Â
You turn to look at Jisoo, who's chilling in her spot on your bed next to you, not having a single ounce of consciousness for you to share your boredom with. Â
With another sigh, you grab your phone and scroll aimlessly through your apps. You eventually land in your Photos app and swipe through mindlessly until a recent picture stops you in your tracks. Â
It's a selfie Jay took of the two of you, Jisoo sandwiched between your faces. The infamous day of the pizza-night-turned-accidental-nap-turned-godforsaken-poop-incident. You'd submitted the photo to Professor Kim as proof of your co-parenting efforts, but now, looking at it again, you can't help but smile. Â
It's strange. The memory should be traumaticâokay, it is traumaticâbut in hindsight, it's also...kind of fun. The chaos, the banter, the way Jay somehow managed to make everything feel less overwhelming just by being there. Â
Funny enough, that day was also the last time you remember having any sort of free time, and you remember complaining that you had to spend the day with Jay of all people. But now, looking back at it, you honestly did have fun. Being with Jay was...fun. Â
Your thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before it unconsciously drifts towards the Phone app. You hesitate, realizing with a jolt that you're one tap away from calling Jay. It's like your brain suddenly shut off and something took over you. What's gotten into you? Â
You blink at Jay's contact on your phone, your thumb still hovering over his name. Â
No. Bad idea. Â
You don't need Jay to entertain you just because you're bored. You're perfectly capable of having fun on your own...obviously. Obviously, even though the last hour of groaning and ceiling-staring suggests otherwise. Â
Besides, Jay's probably busy doing...whatever it is Jay does at 4PM on a Saturday. Napping, probably. Â
And what would you even say? Let's hang out? Like some middle schooler asking out their crush? Not to mention, you already have your 'Jisoo' plans in two days, so it's not like you have an excuse to see him. Â
You sit up abruptly, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of ridiculous thoughts. Seriously, do you even hear yourself right now? Looking for an excuse to see him? Since when did you need excuses for anything, let alone something as absurd as spending more time than necessary with Jay Park? Â
This has to be some kind of stress-induced meltdown. It's the only logical explanation. All those late-night study sessions, midterm panic attacks, Jisoo diaper changes, and endless extracurriculars must've finally fried your brain. And now, here you are, teetering on the edge of reason, actually wanting to see Jay Park. Â
Great. Now you have a new problem. Â
Because as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise, the truth is glaringly obvious: you want to see him. And that, more than any amount of free time or boredom, is the real problem.Â
You've officially lost it. Â
I've officially lost it, you chant in your head as your thumb hovers dangerously close to Jay's name on your screen again. Â
I've officially lost it, the words grow louder, taunting you, as you hover over the call button.Â
I've officially lost it, your thoughts scream as you give in, pressing down and watching in horror as your screen shifts to Calling Jay Park.Â
And now, your heartbeat picks up with every ring. You can't decide what's worseâhim answering or him ignoring the call. Maybe if he doesn't pick up, it'll be a sign from above that you're better off leaving his madness alone. Maybeâ
"Hello?"Â Â
Your train of thought screeches to a halt. Â
"Y/N? Are you there?"Â Â
"I'm here!" You blurt out, your voice jumping two octaves higher than usual. Real smooth, Y/N. Â
"Hi...what's up? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" His voice is soft over the phone, a little concerned, like you're about to tell him Jisoo had another diaper emergency. Â
You falter for a moment, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written there. "No! Nothing's wrong! I justâuhâ" Quick, think of something normal!
"I was wondering what you're up to."Â Â
"Me?" He sounds genuinely surprised, and you can practically hear the smile in this voice. At least, you think. Or, once again, you've officially lost it. "I'm at the campus gallery, setting up for my photography showcase. It's tonight."Â Â
The campus gallery. His photography. Â
You blink, this is news to you. You vaguely remember Jay asking if you could watch Jisoo tonight, and he hadn't given you a reason back then, but this is why he couldn't be on Jisoo duty today. Because of his showcase. Â
"Wait, really?" You ask, hoping the interest in your voice doesn't show too much. Â
"Yeah. I didn't mention it? Guess I forgot," he chuckles lightly. "It's not a big deal, just a student showcase. I'm just setting up now, making sure my pieces are hung straight and stuff."Â Â
You swallow, a sudden wave of curiosity washing over you. You find yourself smiling to yourself, feeling a wave of endearment wash over you for some reason. The idea of Jay being completely focused and serious about a passion of his is...it's nice. Itâs hard to reconcile the carefree, sarcastic guy you know with the thoughtful perspective he must have to capture the kinds of photos he does.Â
"You should come by," he says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but you think you catch a small, hopeful note in it. "If you're free, I mean. No pressure."Â Â
You hesitate, your mind racing. Go? Don't go? It's just a showcase. It's not like it means anything. Right? Â
"I'll think about it," you manage, trying to sound nonchalant. Â
"Cool." There's a smile in his voice again. "Let me know. I'll save you a front-row seat."Â Â
"Front row seat? For a gallery?" You deadpan, rolling your eyes as if he can see if over the phone. Â
"Hey, I'm just being a good host."Â Â
"Hmmm," you smile to yourself again. "Maybe. We'll see."Â Â
But your decision was made the second he suggested that you should come.Â
It doesn't mean anything. Friends come support each other all the time, right? Waitâ
Are you and Jay even friends? You shake your head, trying to dismiss the warmth starting to spread in your chest. Â
It's just photography.
It's just Jay.
Nothing to overthink here. Â
âă».ă»â«
âOkay, Jisoo, in and out,â you whisper to the robot baby in the carrier that's perched in your arms as you stand frozen outside the campus gallery doors. "We're just stopping by to say hi. Two minutes max. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Nothing dramatic."Â Â
Jisoo stares back at you, wide-eyed and unhelpfully silent, which you take as strong moral support. "Thanks, Jisoo," you mutter, like a lunatic seeking validation from a robot. Â
Maybe you shouldn't even go in. It's basically the end of the event anywayâwhat are the odds he'd even notice you didn't show? Slim. Probably. Right? Â
It's not like you didn't have a valid excuse for your lateness. You did have to change Jisooâs diaper before you left, and that was a whole thing. But let's be real.Â
The real delay? The real delay was you standing in front of your closet for a solid half hour like a contestant on America's Next Top Existential Crisis. What do you even wear to casually drop by someone's photography showcase? Something that says, Hey, I'm effortlessly supportive, but I totally don't care if you notice me (yes I do). Â
Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist. Â
And thenâbecause clearly, you love to torture yourselfâyou spent another thirty minutes pacing around your room trying to figure out why you cared so much in the first place. Â
It's Jay. Jay. The guy who thought sticking googly eyes on Jisoo's bottle would make her drink faster. Why are you stressed? Why are your palms sweating? Â
But despite all that, you somehow made it here, standing outside the gallery with your stomach doing flips like you're about to walk into your own trial. You made it all the way here, so might as well go in, right? Â
You swallow hard, adjust your grip on your emotional support robot baby, and push the door open.Â
And there he is. Â
Center stage, right where he belongsâor at least where he seems to thrive. Standing in front of a massive wall of his framed photographs, the studio lights catch his profile just right. It's almost unfair, like he's been personally photoshopped by the gods themselves. He's surrounded by a small crowd, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he speaks, his smile so bright you're convinced it's starting to hurt your eyes. Â
But his eyes? There's this sparkle in them. Not the usual playful glint you've grown used to, but something deeper, softer. You've never seen him look so alive, so utterly in his element, and it's doing weird things to your chest.Â
You can't help but wonderâwhat does it feel like to make him look that happy? Not that it matters, obviously.
It's just a thought.
A completely useless, irrelevant, go-away-right-now kind of thought. Â
If you weren't busy trying not to trip over your own feet and accidentally drop Jisoo, you might have stopped to take it all in. To admire the way he looks standing there, talking about something he clearly loves, like he's found this magical pocket of the universe where nothing else matters. Might have. Â
But instead, your thoughts screech in a halt, jolting you out of your daydream. Â
Abort mission. This was a terrible idea. Â
Why did you come here? Why is your face hot? Can Jisoo smell fear? Â
Before you can think of a single coherent reason to not turn around and bolt, Jay glances up. And he spots you. Â
His eyes light up even moreâif that's even physically possible. "Y/N?" He calls out, grinning widely. Â
Great. Now you're here. He's happy to see you. You're standing in the middle of his gallery with a robot baby that can most definitely smell your fear. Â
Fantastic. Just fantastic. Â
Jay's voice cuts through your existential spiral, "Y/N!" He's waving you over as he calls out your name again, like you're a long-lost friend who's just returned from war.Â
Well, to be fair, you are fighting a warâagainst your own dumb feelings. Â
"Hey!" You croak, trying to sound casual but ending up somewhere between a dog's favorite squeaky toy and a rusty car horn. You internally flinch at your own voice. Â
"Wow, you came," he says, his sweet smile still on display as you shuffle over to where he's standing. "And you brought Jisoo! My biggest fan."
He reaches out to cup Jisoo's cheeks, and you almost smack yourself in the head for feeling jealous over your own robot baby. Â
"Yeah, well," you start, trying to sound nonchalant. "I figured, you know, project partners should support each other...teamwork and all that."Â Â
Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. "Right. Teamwork. Totally."Â Â
You shift your weight from one leg to another, awkwardly looking up, eventually landing your eyes on the wall behind him, scanning the photos on display. Each photo is so himâa little chaotic, a little bold, but somehow...strikingly beautiful. There's a photo of a rainy city street, the light catching every droplet; a close-up of a sunflower against a brilliant sky; a candid of a kid laughing, his face tilted up toward the sun. Â
You suddenly feel a weird, warm pull in your chest. Itâs one thing to see Jay cracking jokes and making sarcastic comments during late-night baby meltdowns. But this? This is a side of him youâve never seen beforeâone thatâs thoughtful, intentional, passionate.Â
You donât realize how long youâve been staring until Jay speaks up, his voice softer now. âDo you like them?âÂ
You blink, startled, and then nod a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice (he does). Â
"Yeah. I mean...these are really good, Jay. You'reâ" you cut yourself off, realizing you're about to say something embarrassing. ''âtalented," you finish lamely. Â
"Thanks," Jay tilts his head, looking almost shy. "That means a lot, actually."Â Â
His voice is so genuine that it throws you off. You weren't prepared for this level of sincerity. It makes your stomach flip in a way that's both exciting and mildly terrifying. Â
Jay gestures toward the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets like he's trying not to fidget. "I wasn't sure if this was your kind of thing, thought you'd be busy and stuff, but I'm glad you came. I, uh..," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, "I was kind of hoping you would."Â Â
Oh. Â
Oh? Â
OH. Â
Your brain immediately short-circuits. He hoped you'd come? Like...in a we're-in-this-together-as-project-partners way, or in a please-let-this-mean-something-more-than-project-partners way? Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? Should you call someone? Should you call him? No, wait, you're already talking to himâfocus!Â
You clear your throat and try to channel every ounce of chill you simply do not possess. "Well," you say, attempting to keep your voice steady and failing miserably, "I'm here."Â Â
It comes out barely louder than a whisper, and you immediately regret every life decision that's led you to this moment. But then Jay smilesâsoft, something smaller, more privateâand it's like the world shifts slightly off its axis. Â
"Yeah," he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that makes you forget how to breathe. "You are."Â Â
And just like that, the noise of the environment dissolves, and the rest of the world shrinks to nothing but the space between you and him. The moment feels impossibly big like it might swallow you whole, and yet so small it could shatter with the slightest breath. Â
You're pretty sure you're about to combust. Explode. Turn into a human firework fueled entirely by sheer tension and whatever it is that's happening right now. God, why does he have to look at you like that? Like you're not standing here internally unraveling? Â
You break eye contact to glance down at Jisoo, and you're positive she's giving you a look that screams, Stop being weird, you two. Â
"Anyway!" You blurt out, desperate to break the tension. "Which one's your favorite?" You gesture to the photos, your eyes darting anywhere but his own.Â
He laughs, and the sound is warm and unguarded, "C'mon, I'll show you."Â Â
He grabs your free hand without thinking, tugging you toward the far end of the wall. And just like that, you're helplessly following him, heart racing again, wondering how the hell you got hereâand why you never want to leave. Â
So much for in and out. Â
Jay pulls you towards the far end of the gallery, his hand wrapped around yours like it's the most natural thing in the world. Â
It's not. Â
Your brain is in full-blown meltdown mode. Red alerts, sirens blaring, a voice screaming, "WE'RE HOLDING HANDS, PEOPLE!"Â Â
But there's no way you're about to let him see how much this is affecting you, so you shove the chaos down, pretending like your hand isn't currently experiencing the touch equivalent of fireworks...and hoping that it isn't sweaty. Â
"This one," Jay says, stopping in front of a photo that's somehow both ordinary and magical. It's a simple shot of your campus football field, taken from the bleacher stands. You've stood in those very bleachers too many times to countâfor school events, games, the occasional half-hearted attempt to pretend you like sports. But somehow, in this shot, the field looks...different. Â
The grass glows like it's soaked in liquid gold under a sky caught between dusk and twilight. The field is empty, yet it doesn't feel lonely. There's something about it that Jay managed to captureâlike it holds a thousand stories and secrets, quietly hopeful in its stillness. Â
"It's beautiful," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can catch them.Â
"Yeah," Jay lets out a breath. "It's my favorite spot on campus. I go there a lot when I need to think or just...get away a bit."Â Â
You glance at him, startled at the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Jay never strikes you as someone who gets lost in his head; he always seemed too confident, too effortlessly sure of himself. But right now, he's not looking at youâhe's staring at the photo, like he's seeing something beyond it. Â
"I took it on one of those daysâI was just overthinking a lot about life. About who I am, I guess," he continues. "I didn't think it'd turn out good or anything, but...I don't know. It felt right."Â Â
Your chest tightens. There's something so raw in the way he's speaking, like he's letting you see a side of him he usually keeps hidden. It makes you wonder how many other layers Jay Park has, and why it feels so important to uncover them all. Â
The silence between you stretches as you watch Jay continue to study his own photograph. There's a softness in his gaze, a quiet vulnerability that makes you feel like you're seeing him a way few people ever do. Â
But then he blinks, breaking the moment, and suddenly he's looking at you. You stiffen, panic bubbling up at the possibility that he might've noticed you staring at him. Â
"Sorry," he says, his voice carrying a self-deprecating chuckle. "It's really cheesy and stupid."Â Â
You find yourself shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. "No! Not at all, really," you blurt out, the words stumbling over themselves in their rush to escape. You feel the heat creeping up your neck, mortified at your sudden intensity. Â
Jay raises an eyebrow, amused, but doesn't say anything, so you clear your throat and try again, softer this time. "I mean it. You have a good eye, Jay." You mean it more than you've meant anything in a while, and you hope he knows that. Â
For a second, he just looks at you, like he's taking note of something, his head tilted ever so slightly. And then, slowly, his lips curve into that small, genuine smile that makes your chest feel annoyingly warm. "Thanks, Y/N."Â Â
Your heart does a little somersault. Oh great. There it goes again. Â
And as if Jisoo can sense the moment might be getting too serious, she lets out a cry. You stumble back, jump scared enough by the loud and sudden sound, and Jay reacts instantly, steadying you with his hands on your shoulders. Â
"You okay?" He asks, his face so close that you can now confirm there are literal, actual flecks of gold in his eyes. Of course there are. Â
You blink. I've officially lost it. Completely, utterly, hopelessly, lost it. Â
You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. Am I okay? No. No, you are not okay. You are decidedly not okay. Â
Jay clears his throat, stepping backâthough his hands linger a beat longer than they probably need to, but still a second too short than you should probably want to.Â
You want to scream into the void. Â
"Looks like it's time for Jisoo's dinner," he says lightly with a small chuckle.Â
You fumble for words, your brain still offline. "Uhâyeah. I left her bottle at my place, and I should probably get going anyways," you manage, your voice a little too breathless for comfort. Â
Jay glances at his watch, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, something hopeful flicking in his eyes.
"I'm pretty much done here," he says, tilting his head towards the door. "It's late. Let me walk you home."Â Â
You hesitate, torn between insisting you're perfectly fine on your own (you're not) and letting him (you want to). But the way he's looking at youâlike it's no big deal, like he simply wants toâmakes the decision for you. Â
"Okay," you say, quieter than you mean to, and before you can second-guess yourself, Jay's already taking Jisoo's carrier from your arms, effortlessly shifting it onto his own. Â
"Let's go," he says, flashing you a small smile that feels like a punch to your stomach in the best way possible. Â
And just like that, you're walking side by side into the cool night air, your breaths visible in the chill, easily falling into a comfortable rhythm as you walk through the quiet campus, the streetlights above casting long shadows ahead of you.Â
Thereâs something easy about walking with him like this. It shouldnât feel this naturalâyour heartâs doing somersaults and pirouettes like itâs auditioning for a circusâbut it does. You steal a glance at him, and heâs focused on the path ahead, his profile calm and soft in the glow of the lights.Â
"So," Jay breaks the quiet as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, "Can you believe the project's almost over?"Â Â
You let out a small laugh, tilting your head. "Honestly, no. Feels like just yesterday I was praying you'd drop the class."Â Â
Jay laughs, a sound that seems to echo in the quiet environment. "Wow, Y/N. I thought we were bonding."Â Â
"We were," you tease, turning to him with a barely concealed smirk. "I just also thought you were going to be a disaster of a partner."Â Â
He scoffs, giving you a mock-offended look. "I proved you wrong, right? I was amazing since day one."Â Â
"You handed Jisoo to me like she was a bomb, Jay," you remind him, unable to stop yourself from laughing. Â
"I was assessing the danger!" Jay protests, his grin widening. "And excuse me, I've stepped up. I've made bottles, I've cleaned her, I even know how to put on a diaper the right side up!"Â Â
"Jay, the fact that you had to learn which way was right side up is concerning in itself," you manage to let out with a giggle.Â
"Details, details," he waves a dismissive hand. "Point is, I'm practically father of the year."Â Â
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. A sharp breeze suddenly hits the both of you, and you visibly shiver from the lack of warmth your outfit provides. All that time choosing an outfit, and you still couldn't pick a weather-appropriate one. Stellar, Y/N. Â
And of course, Jay notices immediately. Before you can so much as form a protest, he's shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, your body immediately stiffening as his hands brush against you lightly in the process. Â
You open your mouth to say somethingâanything, even just a whispered thank youâbut Jay beats you to it, sparing you the effort of finding actual, coherent words.Â
âSo,â he says casually, like he hasnât just sent your brain spiraling, âwhat do you think youâll do when itâs over?â
"Uh," you blink, still needing a second to reorient yourself. "Sleep, for once."Â Â
Jay laughs again. "Fair. You deserve it. But you'll miss me, right?"Â Â
"Not even for a second," you deadpan without hesitation. Â
"Liar," he teases, bumping your shoulder lightly. Â
You reach your building all too soon, the doors looming in front of you like an unwelcome reminder that this walk, this moment, is about to end. You stop just before the steps and turn to face him, rocking on your heels. Â
"Okay, maybe a little," you admit, shrugging. "But only because you make me look like the competent one by comparison."Â Â
"Wow," Jay shakes his head, but there it is again. The smileâthe small, amused one that makes his eyes crinkle just enough to be unfairly attractive.Â
You glance up at him, wishing the walk had been just a few blocks longer. Or a few miles. Â
"Well," you say finally, forcing your gaze away from his own. "Thanks for walking me. And for carrying Jisoo."Â
You reach for Jisoo's carrier, and Jay hands it over without hesitation, but not before shrugging like it's no big deal.
"No problem," he says. Then, as you're adjusting the carrier on your arm, he adds, "And thanks again, Y/N. For coming tonight. It really meant a lot."Â Â
Your heart does that stupid fluttery thing again it's been doing all night, and you're starting to think you need a medical consultation. Â
"Yeah, well," you clear your throat. "Partner support, you know?" You sound dumb, Y/N. Dumb. Â
Jay smirks, but there's something gentler in his expression now, a flicker of something you can't quite name.Â
"Goodnight, Y/N. And goodnight, Jisoo," he says, giving a small wave to the baby carrier, making you giggle slightly. Â
He takes a few steps back, his hands slipping into his pockets, and gives you one last smile before turning to walk away. But before he gets too far, something bursts out of you, unwarned. Â
"Jay!"Â Â
He stops, turning on his heels, his brows lifting in surprise. "Yeah?"Â Â
You step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you, suddenly hyper-aware of how your voice wavers. "Um, I was wrong. You're...not all that bad." Why am I doing this? "I'm sorry if I've been...you know, intense. These past few years."Â Â
Jay blinks at you, his surprise turning into something softer. You take a deep breath, pushing through the self-inflicted awkwardness.Â
"You've been a really good partner," you add, offering a small, genuinely smile. "And well...you're pretty cool."Â Â
His studies your face for a moment, the look longing and careful, like he's piecing together something fragile. A faint smile tugs at his lips, and there's a warmth in his expression that sends heat rushing to your cheeks.  Â
For a moment, the two of you just stand here, caught in the glow of the streetlamp. The world around you feels distant, like someone's hit the mute button on everything but the sound of your heartbeat. Â
Jay's smile widens ever so slightly, and he nods, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll see you around, Y/N."Â Â
He takes a few steps backward, his gaze holding yours until he finally turns and starts walking away. You watch him disappear into the night, the outline of his figure fading with the streetlights, and only then do you realize you've been holding your breath. Â
As you step into your building and climb the stairs to your apartment, the night replays in your head on a loopâhis laugh, his smile, his everything. Â
When you finally reach your door, you lean against it for a moment, his large jacket still wrapped around you. Your thoughts crash into you all at once, and two things become alarmingly clear:Â Â
You are completely, utterly, hopelessly in like with Jay Park. Â
You're in so much trouble. Â
âCongratulations, everyone!â Professor Kim clasps her hands together at the front of the classroom, a wide smile on her face. âYouâve survived six weeks of parenting. Hopefully, youâve learned something usefulâand that it hasnât scared you off from actual parenthood one day. Each baby had a monitor tracking its status, so Iâll be extracting that data, combining it with your progress reports, and factoring it into your grade.âÂ
Jay leans toward you from his seat next to you, his breath warm against your ear. âThatâs a little creepyâŠsheâs going to take Jisoo apart? The poor thing.â His smirk is half-guilty, half-amused, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing out loud.Â
This is new. Six weeks ago, he was Mr. Front-Row Enthusiast, and sometime between then and now, youâve somehow managed to convert him into your next-row-back partner. Heâd grumbled at first when you insisted about your theory that the front row screamed try-hard, but since then, he doesnât even glance at the seats up front anymore.Â
âGrades will be out soon! Iâll see you all next week,â Professor Kim announces. âAnd donât forget to submit your reflection posts!âÂ
The shuffle of bags and jackets fills the room as students thank her on their way out. Slowly, the lecture hall empties, until itâs just you and Jay lingering at your seats.Â
âWell,â you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you stand. âThatâs it. No more parenting lessons for us.âÂ
Jay heaves a dramatic sigh, his lips pulling into a pout thatâs far too endearing for your peace of mind. âI canât believe it. I already miss Jisoo.âÂ
You chuckle lightly but feel an odd tug in your chest. âRight? I got so used to carrying her and her baby bag everywhere. Itâs weird not having her around.âÂ
And it is weird. You never thought youâd feel this way about a glorified hunk of plastic and wires, but now, without Jisoo, something feelsâŠoff. Â
Or maybe itâs not just Jisoo. Maybe itâs the fact that this project, unexpectedly enough, turned into an excuseâa reason to spend so much time with Jay. Now that itâs over, what happens next?Â
The thought hangs between you as the two of you head out of the building. The campus is alive with the hum of students, the energy buzzing around you as everyone heads to their afternoon classes. You both stop outside, standing awkwardly side by side as the silence stretches.Â
No more 'Jisoo days' to plan for. No more excuses to text. No more shared tasks or inside jokes.Â
Will he go back to his front-row seat, forgetting these last few weeks? Or will heâwill youâpretend none of this ever happened?Â
Jay shifts beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicker to yours, then away again, as if heâs waiting for you to say something first.Â
âWell,â you finally say, breaking the quiet because itâs just too heavy to bear. âI have to head to my next class.âÂ
âRight. Yeah,â Jay says quickly, too quickly, his hands both fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. âMakes sense.âÂ
He hesitates, his mouth opening like heâs about to add something, but then he stops. You notice the way heâs looking at you, like thereâs a thousand things he wants to say but canât figure out how to start. You feel that familiar heat creep up your neck, the same one you tend to get whenever youâre around him nowadays. Â
âAlright,â you finally say, shifting on your feet. âSee you around, then?âÂ
Jayâs lips turn up in a small, almost longing, smile. âYeah. See you.âÂ
He doesnât move, though. Neither do you. Itâs like both of you are waiting for the other to take a step away first, and the pause grows longer and longer until you can practically hear the universe screaming at you to just go already. Itâs getting unbearably uncomfortable for all of us, Y/N. Â
And when you finally start to turn, before you can even take three steps, his voice stops you.Â
âHey.âÂ
You glance back over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. âYeah?âÂ
Jay scratches the back of his neck, looking like heâs fighting some kind of internal battle. âUh, you were also a really good partner. You know, with Jisoo. I mean, you were kinda terrifying at first with all your color-coded schedules and spreadsheets, butâŠâÂ
His smile softens, and his voice drops a little. âYou were great. Really. I think I learned a thing or two from you.â Â
Your stomach flips in a way thatâs both infuriating and addictive.Â
âThanks,â you say, trying to sound casual even though your brain is short-circuiting. âMeans a lot from someone who had to Google which way a diaper goes.â Â
He laughs, the sound bright and warm in the cool air. âOkay, one time, Y/N. Let it go.âÂ
âNope.â You grin, turning fully toward him now, your nerves settling under the familiarity of teasing. âYouâll never live it down. Itâs my parting gift to you.âÂ
Jay presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. âWow. I pour my heart out, and this is what I get in return?âÂ
âExactly.âÂ
He chuckles again, shaking his head before finally stepping back, breaking the invisible bubble thatâs been holding you both in place. âAlright. Iâll see you, Y/N.âÂ
âBye, Jay,â you say, forcing yourself to turn and start walking away. Â
You make it a few steps before you hear his voice a second time, softer this time, almost hesitant.Â
âY/N.âÂ
You glance back, your heart skipping a beat.Â
Jay looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile. âText me when you get home later tonight, okay? After your day is done.â Â
You blink, caught off guard. âWhat?âÂ
âJustâŠso I know you got there safe,â he says, shrugging like itâs no big deal. But the way his voice dips at the end betrays him.Â
Your chest tightens in a way that officially feels dangerous. But you know you never want to get enough of this feeling.  Â
âOkay,â you manage to say, the word quieter than you meant, but it was the most you could muster up with the bubble stuck in your throat. Â
Jay nods, his smile widening just a little. âGood.âÂ
And this time, when you turn away, you canât stop the smile that sneaks onto your face.Â
âă».ă»â«
By the time you get home, itâs late, and the apartment is quiet. Esther is nowhere to be foundâprobably out with Heeseung or at the library pretending to study. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, the routine feeling strangely empty without Jisooâs carrier on your arm and her baby bag strapped to the other. Â
With a sigh, you find your way to your room and collapse onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Jayâs parting words have been echoing in your head all day, barely letting you focus during the rest of your classesââText me when you get home.âÂ
You hover over your messages for a second longer than necessary, typing and deleting a draft once, then twice, then a third time, before finally hitting send:Â
Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe đÂ
You stare at the screen for exactly three seconds before flinging your phone across your bed. You roll over, face buried in your pillow, half hoping he doesnât reply so you donât have to overanalyze the significance of a thumbs-up emoji.Â
But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly.Â
Jay [8:53PM]: good đ sleep well.Â
A small, ridiculous smile tugs at your lips. You really shouldnât be this giddy over such a mundane exchange, over a thumbs up emoji, but somehow, here you are.Â
And thatâs when you start going insane. You shoot up from your spot in bed. Â
Why did he tell you to text him? Does he say that to everyone? Or was it justâŠyou? And why does he keep looking at you like that? Youâve never been the kind of person to spiral like this, but lately, everything about Jay has you unraveling in ways you donât know how to handle.
Clearly. Â
You groan, flailing your arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. âGet it together, Y/N,â you mutter to yourself, but itâs no use. Every little interaction from the past six weeks replays in your head on a loopâhis laughter, his stupid jokes, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.Â
Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp buzz from your phone. You glance over, half expecting a random notification (the other half hoping Jay double texted you) but instead, itâs the one youâve been waiting for without realizing it:Â
Professor Kim: Final grades are posted!Â
Your heart leaps. Practically fumbling with your phone, you open the grading portal, scanning the page with a held breath. And there it is, staring back at you in bold letters:Â
Semester Project Grade: 100%Â
âYES!â you exclaim, punching the air like a successful cartoon character. Youâre grinning so wide your cheeks hurt, practically bouncing in bed. Itâs the kind of happiness that makes you feel like youâre going to burst if you donât share it with someone.Â
And thereâs only one person you want to share it with.Â
Before you know what youâre doing, your closet doors are wide open, your hands rifling through. Your hands land on his jacketâthe one he lent you after the showcaseâand something about it feels right. You shrug it on, ignoring the way it smells faintly like him (and comfort), and grab your keys without a second thought.Â
By the time you realize what youâre doing, youâre already halfway to Jayâs apartment. Itâs not like you had a planâjust this overwhelming need to see him. Â
Because somehow, heâs become the first person you want to share everything with, want to experience every moment with, want to feel every feeling with, and that thought is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Â
But youâve never been so sure of anything else before. Â
Your breath hitches as you reach his familiar door, hand raised to knock. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this is. Who shows up at someoneâs place at this hour, unannounced, just to tell them about a grade? What if he already saw it and didnât even think twice? You look insane, Y/N. Insane. Â
But then you think about the way he looked at you earlier, the way he smiled when he said âgood job.âÂ
And you knock. Â
âă».ă»â«
Jay doesnât know whatâs happening. One second, heâs on his couch editing photos, and the next, someoneâs trying to break down his door. At least, thatâs what it sounds like. The pounding is so aggressive it makes his mug of tea tremble slightly on the table.Â
Heart racing, Jay tosses his laptop aside and scans the room for a weapon. Nothing. Great. In a flash of panic, he grabs the TV remote because, sure, itâs sleek, ergonomic, and maybe intimidating in the right light.Â
Bracing himself for certain doom, he yanks the door openâÂ
âOh.âÂ
Itâs you.Â
At his doorstep.Â
Unannounced.Â
In his jacket.Â
Jay flatlines. All he can do is stare at you in the oversized jacketâhis oversized jacketâlooking like you walked straight out of one of his dream scenarios. The rational part of him is trying to keep it together, but the feral part of his brain is screaming Sheâs in my clothes. Marriage now.Â
You tilt your head, studying his expression. âJay? Are youâŠokay?âÂ
He blinks, realizing heâs been standing there for a good five seconds with his mouth slightly open. Â
âUh. Yeah. Totally. Uhâwhatâs up?âÂ
âWell first, why are you wielding a TV remote like itâs a sword?âÂ
Jay glances down at the remote in his hand, then back at you.
ââŠI thought you were a robber.âÂ
âA robber?â you repeat, struggling not to laugh. âWhat kind of robber knocks?âÂ
âI donât know, maybe a polite one!âÂ
You let out a giggle and shrug. âFair enough. But anyway, Iâm here becauseâdid you see?âÂ
âSee what?â He frowns, confused, and still recovering from his adrenaline rush.Â
âProfessor Kim posted our grades! We got a 100%!âÂ
Jay stares at you for a second before the words sink in. âWaitâwhat? We got a hundred?âÂ
âYes!â Youâre practically bouncing, a bright smile lighting up your face. âA perfect score, Jay!âÂ
He laughs and steps forward, grabbing your shoulders in his hands. âNo way. We actually did it?!âÂ
âWe did it!â You beam back, jumping up and down. âWe crushed it!âÂ
Jayâs grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, but he doesnât care. Thereâs something about seeing you this happy, standing in his doorway like a whirlwind of energy, that makes his chest feel way too full, too complete. Â
And for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, caught up in the moment, smiling at each other like idiots.Â
When the excitement dies down, Jay notices the way youâre still slightly breathless, like youâd run all the way here. Â
âWait,â he squints. âYou couldâve just texted me, you know.âÂ
âOh,â you shift your weight, suddenly looking a little shy. âYeah. But I justâŠwanted to see you.âÂ
Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning. Â
âOh.â Â
Oh?Â
OH. Â
âYeah. SoâŠhere I am,â you add, failing miserably to conceal the wobble in your voice. Â
âHere you are,â he repeats, his voice back to that soft tone that knows how to make your heart go into overdrive. Â
His eyes flicker to yours and stay there as the air between you suddenly feels heavier. Charged.Â
âIs that all?â Jay asks, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.Â
âUh,â you clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. âI guess.âÂ
Jay leans against the doorframe, studying you with that stupidly charming smirk of his. âWell, then.âÂ
âWell, then,â you echo, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket like itâs the most fascinating thing youâve ever encountered (spoiler: itâs not. That would be Jayâs face. But weâre not admitting that just yet).Â
Neither of you moves. Not even a millimeter. The silence stretches so long that youâre pretty sure somewhere in the world, a Netflix show just autoplayed its next episode.Â
Then, suddenly, Jay watches as your face cycles through the emotional Olympics: panic, resolve, regret, and whatever it is that makes your eyebrows do that cute scrunch thing he secretly loves.Â
âI should go,â you say, finally breaking the silence, your voice quieter now. âSorry for barging in like this.âÂ
You look down at your feet, hands still mindlessly playing with the sleeve of his jacket. Jayâs stomach twists at the sightâat the quiet, unsure way youâre suddenly retreating. Â
No. Absolutely not. He doesnât know where his bravery is coming from (he suspects itâs sheer desperation), but he refuses to let you leave like this.Â
Before you can fully turn away, Jay reaches out and gently grabs your sleeve, tugging you back like youâre his favorite person in the worldâwhich, spoiler again, you totally are.Â
âWait,â he says, pulling you close enough that you bump into his chest. Both his hands find their way to your waist, steadying you with an ease that feels practiced. Like itâs where his hands were always meant to be.Â
And that's when Jay knows for sure: he likes you. He likes you bad. Painful highlighters, confusing spreadsheets, and all. He likes the way you carry your stubbornness like a badge of honor. He likes the way you chew on your pen when you're deep in thought. The way you turn his every sarcastic comment into a competition he's somehow thrilled to lose. Â
âYou forgot something,â he murmurs, his voice soft and low as his eyes search yours, then your lips, then your entire face. Â
Your heart stumbles, your brain short-circuits, and youâre pretty sure your face is now the color of a stop sign.Â
âOh, uh, the jacket?â you stammer, looking down at where he grabbed your sleeve, grasping for any logical explanation. âYouâre right. Sorry, I almostââÂ
But before you can finish, Jay does something both incredibly bold and incredibly reckless. He leans in and presses his lips to yours.Â
For a moment, you freeze. This isnât real. Is this an alternate universe where Jay kisses you instead of just driving you insane?Â
But then, the realization sinks inâJay is kissing you. Like, actually kissing you. And wow.Â
The first touch of his lips sends a rush through your entire body, like every nerve has suddenly woken up all at once. Heâs hesitant at first, almost like heâs giving you the chance to pull away, but when you donâtâwhen you finally let go of all the confusion, overthinking, and denialâyou lean into him, your hands both instinctively reaching up, gripping the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself as you kiss him back, now realizing how much you desperately wanted this. Â
And thatâs all the encouragement Jay needs. Â
His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers brushing the hem of the jacket youâre wearingâhis jacket, you remember with a strange, fluttering thrill. The kiss deepens, gentle but insistent, a slow, breathtaking unraveling of all the tension thatâs been simmering between you for weeks.Â
Itâs like the air shifts around you, the space between you collapsing into nothing. You feel his breath, warm against your skin, and the faintest hitch in it when your hand moves up to lightly curl against the back of his neck.Â
Heâs so close, and everything about this moment feels rightâhis familiar scent, the steady warmth of his hands on your waist, the way he tilts his head slightly to meet yours like heâs memorizing the shape of you.Â
Your heart pounds, the world spinning just a little too fast and too slow all at once. Itâs electric, and dizzying, and somehow everything and nothing like you imagined (because, yes, youâve imagined itâso what?).Â
Jay pulls back just slightly, his forehead brushing yours as he grins, his voice a playful mumble against your lips, not wanting to break the kiss. âYou can keep the jacket.âÂ
Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you clutch at his arms for balance.
âSeriously? Thatâs what youâre thinking about right now?âÂ
âIâm a multi-tasker,â he replies, deadpan, his lips turning into a teasing smirk as he leans in and steals another quick kiss. He starts to pull back again, but you don't let himâyour hand catches his sleeve as you dart up and chase his lips for one more peck, light and fleeting, but enough to make him smile like a fool. You're completely, utterly, hopelessly obsessed with him. Â
"Besides," he adds, the words smug as his arms tighten around you, "I've already sacrificed my jacket. Might as well give up my dignity too."Â Â
You roll your eyes, âYouâre still an idiot.âÂ
âAnd yet, Iâm the idiot you kissed back,â Jay fires back, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Â
You shake your head, your voice soft and teasing. âYouâre soââÂ
The words trail off as you meet his gaze again, and before you can even think about stopping yourself, you tilt your head up, close the remaining distance between you, and kiss him first this time. Â
Jay freezes for a second, caught off guard, before he fully melts into the kiss again, one hand instinctively curling around your waist to keep you as close as possible. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no holding backâjust the two of you in the quiet of his doorway, and the overwhelming certainty that neither of you wants to let thisâthis moment, this feelingâto end.Â
When you finally pull back, Jayâs eyes are sparkling, his gaze holding an undeniable warmth.Â
âYou know,â he starts, voice light but tinged with something deeper, âif you keep doing that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.âÂ
You raise an eyebrow, leaning in just close enough to make him squirm, your smirk playful.Â
âAnd if you keep talking,â you murmur, your voice low and teasing, âI might change my mind.âÂ
Jay blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a breathless laugh, his arms instinctively circling your waist again, pulling you just a little closer. âNoted. Say less. Iâll shut up forever. Youâre stuck with me now.âÂ
Stuck with Jay? As in a more-than-project-partners kind of way?Â
Yeah, you think, meeting the smile heâs giving you.Â
You donât mind that idea one bit.Â
âă».ă»â«
Now that the six weeks of parenthood is over, we ask that you write a reflection post in response to your pre-questionnaire answers we asked you at the beginning of the project. Were your expectations met? Exceeded? Any surprises along the way?
Y/Nâs Submission [11:15AM, October 30th]:
Parenting, even with a robot baby, turned out to be nothing like I expected. Iâve learned that no matter how much you plan, babies (and life) have a way of completely ignoring your carefully crafted schedules. It was frustrating at times, but it also made thingsâŠunexpectedly fun.
Speaking of unexpectedâletâs just say my partnership for this project caught me completely off guard, in the best way possible. Turns out, some surprises are worth breaking the plan for :)
Jayâs Submission [11:30AM, October 30th]:
Honestly? I expected surprises, but I wasnât ready to lose three years of my life over a diaper changeâor nearly go deaf from tantrums. Safe to say, I learned the hard way that being a little prepared isnât such a bad idea.
But hereâs the thing: turns out, babies (and certain project partners) have a way of growing on you. Who knew spreadsheets and sleepless nights could actually beâŠkinda great? I guess what Iâm saying is, sometimes the best things arenât planned. And also, I know how to change a diaper in 30 seconds now. The right side up :)
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»ă..ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»
the end! let me know what you think °Ê(*ÂŽêł`*)É°
m. list here!
tag list (tenk u for all the luv): @neozon3nha @duckling-niki @somuchdard @jkslvsnella @jjongstar111
@haechsworld @joieouioui @zl-world @getoxo @onlyjjong
@puma-riki @e-r-i-15 @st4rwon
@jayla240 [ wouldn't let me tag you,,,sorry! i also had to format the tags weirdly to get this to work :') ]
cue all tags now...
#enhypen#enhypen jay#enhypen fics#enhypen x reader#enhypen jay park#jay park#park jongseong#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha imagines#enha fluff#enhypen comedy#enhypen x crack#enhypen x comedy#enha scenarios#jay park x reader#park jongseong x reader#jay park fluff#jay park imagines#park jongseong fics#enha#jay enhypen#engene#heeseung#jake sim#lee heeseung#heeseung enhypen#jake enhypen
438 notes
·
View notes
Text
living the dream. cl16. mv1. smau.
actress!reader x charles leclerc x max verstappen
reader becomes one of the only current actresses to openly admit that she is in a throuple, but when she reveals who her boyfriends are she accidentally breaks the internet
faceclaim: liana liberato
celebsattheerastour posted a story
written: f1 driver charles leclerc pictured at the eras tour last night, also in attendance pierre gasly and actress y/n y/ln
y/ninsta posted a story
written: last night i got home and my boyfriend asked if i got any pictures of my make up (and of course i forgot to) so ofc i had to touch it up a little and take this sleep deprived selfie
y/ninsta posted a story
charesleclerc posted a story tagging maxverstappen
written: paddle to beat those summer break no racing blues
maxverstappen
liked by charlesleclerc, y/ninsta, redbullracing and 1,292,293 others
maxverstappen: one of the best summer breaks of my career, back to racing this weekend
view all 109,121 comments
charlesleclerc: who is the redhead
maxverstappen: you know, shut up
landonorris: how come he knows and i don't
maxverstappen: you would not understand you are too young
user1: a redhead, max verstappen i had no idea you had game like that
user2: omg a soft launch
user3: i know it is not my place but i am desperate to know who she is
charlesleclerc
liked by maxverstappen, y/ninsta, landonorris and 1,420,202 others
charlesleclerc: after a much needed recharge i am ready to get back to racing
view all 120,293 comments
maxverstappen: who is the redhead
charlesleclerc: hahaha very funny
user4: i don't get the joke lads please explain
user5: two soft launches in one day both with redheads i can't take it
user6: i can't believe they are both taken
user7: could they be dating sisters?
y/ninsta
liked by jennaortega, maxverstappen, charlesleclerc and 2,102,102
y/ninsta: just another day in paradise
view all 210,293 comments
jennaortega: so obsessed with you
y/ninsta: miss you love
sydneysweeney: be careful y/n you will break the internet again
y/ninsta: that is the plan syd
user8: surely everyday is paradise when you have two (seemingly) hot boyfriends
user9: actually obsessed with this relationship and i don't even know who the guys are
francisca.cgomes posted a story tagging y/ninsta
written: my date for the netherlands weekend
y/ninsta posted a story
written: baby's first f1 race
y/ninsta posted two stories
story one written: guys what do we think, is blue my colour?
story two written: or is it red?
f1wags
liked by user10, user11, user12 and 23,193 others
f1wags: new wag alert! we are losing our minds cause wtaf actress y/n y/ln is dating not one but two f1 drivers. just before heading to the cool off room both max verstappen and charles leclerc ran over to her and kissed her they then kissed each other. this is actually insane. y/ln confirmed that she was in a throuple just before the summer break, we never could have guessed that her partners were max and charles.
view all 4,283 comments
user10: looking back at their recent posts it is so obvious i can't believe none of us realised
user11: why is it never me
user12: genuinely the luckiest girl in the world
user13: do you reckon they are looking for a fourth
y/ninsta
liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, jennaortega and 2,538,283 others
tagged: maxverstappen. charlesleclerc.
y/ninsta: living the dream with my boys.
view all 341,293 comments
charlesleclerc: glad the world finally knows your ours
maxverstappen: the theories were wild
y/ninsta: yeah apparently you guys are dating identical twins
maxverstappen: so grateful to have my people
y/ninsta: love you maxie
jennaortega: i knew about this and i was still shocked when i saw you trending on twitter
y/ninsta: jenna love you were the first person i told
user14: people are always arguing about the hottest couple in f1, these guys win no competition. two attractive drivers and one very attractive actress, no one else could even compete
ââąÂ·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·âąâÊ âĄ ÉââąÂ·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·Â·âąâ
@bibissparkles
@milkysoop
@hadids-world
@callsignwidow
@barcelonaloverf1life
@queen-of-the-hunt
@piastrams
@kravitzwhore
@a-beaverhausen
@fangirlforever2000
@formulaal
@azeal-peal
@magical-spit
@that-one-little-soybean
@raizelchrysanderoctavius
@zatarias-pandora
@unknownmystery22
@anotheranotherblogwoah
@leclercdream
@charlesgirl16
@kikiki04
@dullypully
@awritingtree
@stylesmoonlight12
@pippyth3hippy
@hc-dutch
@whosra
@lancestrollsgf
@dying-inside-but-its-classy
@vulkaari
@random-human02
@daisyfreecs
@fandommaniac07
@mbioooo0000
@novelswithariana
@exotic-iris13
@natashaalinovaromanoff1984
@colmathgames2
@ajordan2020
@sltwins
@nichmeddar
#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#formula 1 smau#formula one smau#f1 smau#f1 fandom#f1 fic#max verstappen smau#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 fic#f1 social media au#formula one#formula 1#max verstappen social media au#formula one social media au#formula 1 social media au#mv1 x you#mv1 social media au#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 x you#cl16 smau
403 notes
·
View notes
Text
A thing I haven't told my readers:
Every chapter I post, I give a comment goal. Especially for chapters I don't feel good about.
The goals are always something obtainable, for example I'll say "for this chapter I'd like to see 3 comments" or "for this chapter I'd like 5 comments."
I do this for 2 reasons:
1 - The obvious: helps with motivation. I can press forward with the writing and the editing because I know there are readers waiting for the next chapter.
2- have obtainable comment goals: I know not everyone who reads will engage, but those who do are meaningful. The goals are there as a stress relief. An "I made it, time to move on," marker. If I didn't have the goals, I would be sitting around asking where I went wrong, or why no one likes it?
What happens if I don't get any comments?
It sucks. Truly, it does.
Fanfics are for sharing, afterall.
This is when I ask myself another question: who am I writing this story for: me or others?
If I'm writing for myself, than ideally, comments shouldn't matter. I just dig deep and press on. There's still joy in telling the story. I'm posting because I want to share and comments are just icing on the cake.
If I'm writing for others, I'll weigh the options on whether or not my time and effort is worth continuing the project. There is a reason I'm seeking comments, usually to check if people enjoy my writing style.
Please note: This works for me and I'm not saying this is how others should act. I have just found if I wanted to keep writing my stories, I needed to place the burden less on the readers to sustain my motivation.
While I love getting comments and would like to continue to receive them. I love writing more and it is on me to keep pressing forward regardless of the engagement I receive at the end of the day.
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
15K notes
·
View notes
Text
Love & Lullabies | Part 3
Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongiâs lifeâafternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. Youâre just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didnât want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life youâve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isnât the only one whoâs clumsy.)
Alternatively: Itâs 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weightâan 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god youâre there to help him.)
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoonâs bestie
Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) Thatâs it.
Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and itâs gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), itâs monsoon season and namgi donât like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I canât help myself, lastly⊠watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)
Word count: ~7k
Posting date: November 21, 2024
Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme.Â
I am a clown đ€Ą and a liar đ€„ From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ đ
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Â Masterlist
âSheâs Haneulâs mom.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut.
âWhat?â
âSung Kyung and Yoongi⊠theyâve been good friends for years,â Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. âI didnât think they were dating. But yeah, sheâs his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.â
You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. âWhat do you mean she leftâŠ?â You have never been more confused in your entire life.
Namjoon sighs. âI donât know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneulâs his, theirs.â
Theirs. Itâs easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate.Â
He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. âItâs better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.â
âIâ I donât know. I donât know what we are,â you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself.Â
Get a grip. Itâs Haneulâs day.Â
Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like youâre about to puke. You definitely feel like it.
âJoonieâŠâ Your voice is small when you ask, âDo you think she wants to come back now?â
Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, âI donât know. Maybe. She wouldnât be here otherwise.â
Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. Sheâs beautiful, successful, everything youâre not. And most importantly, sheâs Haneulâs mother. Thatâs the kicker. How can you compete with that?
Spoiler alert: you canât.
When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongiâs mom. Sheâs standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.
âShe shouldnât be here,â she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.
âEomma,â Yoongi grits.
âShe abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,â his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. âAnd she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?â
Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his motherâs arm in a silent plea for calm. âNot here, eomma. Please. Itâs Haneulâs birthday. Donât make a scene.â
Of course he is siding with her.
Youâre unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You canât hear what theyâre saying, but you catch the way Yoongiâs shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and youâre so curious, what is he agreeing to?
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isnât. Not even close.
You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, donât really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. Itâs a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.
He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.
âHey,â he says softly, touching your arm lightly.
You turn to face him, your smile brittle. âHey. Howâs everything going?â
âCan we talk?â
You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.
He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. âI wanted to talk to you,â he says carefully, like heâs choosing every word with precision.
âAbout Sung Kyung.â you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. âYeah. And Haneul.â
The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.
âShe and I⊠we were close for a long time,â he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. âAnd yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just⊠disappeared.â
âDisappeared?â
âShe left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just⊠ghosted.â He shrugs. âI didnât know where she went or why. She didnât contact me for months.â
âAnd then one day,â he continues, âshe called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.â
The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You donât say anything, letting him get it all out.
âShe didnât tell me she was pregnant,â he says, shaking his head as if he still canât believe it. âI literally only found out after he was born.â
You feel a pang of sympathy, but then youâre also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. âWhy did she wait so long to tell you?â
âShe said she didnât want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing⊠that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.â He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. âBut after she had him⊠she couldnât. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.â
Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. âSo you stepped in.â
He nods, âI didnât have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldnâtâI wouldnât turn my back on him. Heâs my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.â
âAnd now sheâs back,â you say, more a statement than a question.
âYeah,â he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. âShe says sheâs better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly⊠I donât know what to do.â
You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. âWhat do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?â
âI donât know,â he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, âI just⊠I want to do whatâs right for Haneul.â
The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they donât sting. âThat makes sense.â
Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. âBut what about you?â he asks, his voice almost too gentle. âHow are you feeling about all this?â
The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, youâre tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.
âIâm fine,â you say lightly. âItâs Haneulâs birthday. Thatâs what matters.â
Yoongi doesnât look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if heâs trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. âOkay.â
Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. âWe should probably get back to the party.â
âYeah,â Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.
âThank you,â he says quietly.
You turn back, your brows furrowing. âFor what?â
âFor everything,â he says, his eyes filled with something you canât quite name.
You donât know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his wordsâwhy did it feel like a goodbye?
The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting.Â
Youâre wiping stray frosting from Haneulâs cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyungâs face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.
The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isnât yours. Who will never be yours.
Itâs too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, âIâll grab more drinks.â
You donât even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. Youâve never felt more out of place in your life.
Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesnât say anything, doesnât ask if youâre okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for thatâfor knowing exactly what you need when youâre unraveling. Heâs your best friend after all.
But even his quiet support isnât enough to keep the emotions at bay.
Across the room, Yoongiâs eomma catches your eye. Thereâs something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows thereâs something between you and Yoongi, but now⊠now it feels like sheâs seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small youâre starting to feel.
Because the truth is, youâre nothing.
Youâre not Haneulâs mom. Youâre not Yoongiâs girlfriend. Youâre just someone who helps out when itâs convenient, and now that they have a nanny, youâre not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thoughtâmaybe foolishly, maybe selfishlyâthat you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.
But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. Youâre not someone. Youâre a placeholder. A stand-in.
And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, theyâre going to discard you. Because thatâs what always happens. Youâre always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.
The thought claws at you, and you suddenly canât breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but itâs nothing compared to the ache in your chest.
The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing youâve tried to bury.
You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. Youâre on the outside nowâof course you are. Youâve been on the outside this entire time.
Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:
Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Donât worry, I told them you werenât feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when youâre there.
That night, you ignored Yoongiâs call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.
The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesnât leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.
Yoongi: Can I come over?
You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:
You: No
You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.
For the next few days, you ghost him.
It wasnât easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you canât bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.
His messages come sporadically at first:
Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I donât know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know youâre okay.
You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.
The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers youâd gifted him for his birthday.
Yoongi: Haneul misses you
The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.
Yoongi: Still missing you
Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:
A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:
âSa-ra.â
Your heart twists painfully. Itâs clipped, but itâs unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname youâd called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. Heâd never been able to say it backânot until now.
And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.
You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.
âHello?â Yoongiâs voice comes through almost immediately.
You exhale shakily. âHi.â
There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. âI didnât think youâd call back.â
You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. âHow could I ignore that video? Haneul⊠he said sarang.â
âYeah, heâs been saying it non-stop since yesterday.â
You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. âYoongi⊠about⊠us.â
âMmh?â He didnât interrupt, didnât rush you. He just waited.
âIâve been thinking,â you began. âHaneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. Ifâif thatâs what you both want.â
Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. âBut⊠he needs you, too.â
Before you can back out, âYoongi, I need space,â you say finally, your voice trembling.
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. âOkay.â
It wasnât a protest. It wasnât an argument. Just⊠okay. Itâs the most âYoongiâ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.
You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didnât know it could.
Youâd told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didnât.
You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But itâs not just him. You miss Haneulâs face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms.Â
Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.
âJesus Christ,â Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a ratâs nest, and youâre slouched on the couch with an empty brain.
Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. âY/N, you canât keep doing this to yourself.â
âIâm fine,â you lied, barely looking at him.
He scoffed. âFine? You look like youâve been run over by a truck. Twice.â
âSo dramatic.â You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.
Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. âMove in with me for now. You know I have the space. You canât stay here like this. Itâs not healthy.â
âIâm not moving in with you, Joon,â you said, shaking your head. âIâm not your charity case.â
He sighed, rubbing his temples. âYouâre not a charity case. Youâre my best friend. And Iâm not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.â
âIâm not gonna live in your and Soyeonâs sex den,â you snapped unnecessarily.
Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.
A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongiâs apartment. You didnât plan this. You donât even know what youâre hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing themâmissing himâhas become unbearable.
You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.
Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. âY/N,â she says, her tone cautious. âYou should come back another time.â
âWhy?â you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.
She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. âItâs just⊠not a good time.â
âI need to see them,â you insist, stepping forward.
âMy dear girl, please listenââ
But youâre already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.
When you step into the living roomâ
Fuck.
There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you donât recognize. Sheâs smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the woundâBora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.
Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyungâs attention. She looks up, confused. She doesnât know you, why would she?Â
Yoongiâs voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. âWho rang theââ
His eyes widen when he sees you, but youâre already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.
âWaitâY/N!â
You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneulâs voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, âSa-ra! Sa-ra!â
Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongiâs voice calling after you, but you donât stop.
Itâs raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldnât get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You donât have an umbrella, but you donât give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.
You donât know how far you get before you feel itâa warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.
Yoongiâs voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. âPlease.â
He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?
You shake your head, your voice breaking. âThis was a mistake. I shouldnât have come.â
âThen why did you?â he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.
âBecause I thought⊠I thought I had a place here. But Iâm such a fucking idiot.â
âDonât say that,â he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop himâor yourselfâhe closes the space between you and kisses you.
Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like heâs trying to say all the things he canât find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.
You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. Itâs tender and fierce all at once, like heâs afraid you might vanish if he lets go.
But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isnât enoughânot to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.
Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe itâs not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe theyâre reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere.Â
God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back.Â
But Yoongi doesnât let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and youâre unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like itâs spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you donât know how to stop it.
Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling youâ
âNo,â you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.
Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if heâs about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.
âI canât do this, Yoongi,â you choke out, your voice shaking. âI just⊠I canât.â
And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ thatâs discarded somewhere in Hannam.
My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem
Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago.Â
Youâre startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. Heâs soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.
âYou know,â he starts, setting the bag on the counter, âfor someone who always claims theyâre fine, you sure as hell donât look it.â
âDonât start, Joon,â you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. âSeriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or somethingâŠâ
You roll your eyes. âAlright, Mr. Art influencer.â
âI need a dry shirt,â he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.
Youâve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.
âWow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?â you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.
âYouâre an idiot.â
Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. âYou expecting someone?â
You shake your head.
Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesnât seem to care that heâs shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there.Â
But itâs Yoongi.
Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing thatâs been gnawing at you for days.
âI need to talk to her,â Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.
Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. âMaybe not today, hyung.â
Yoongiâs jaw tightens, but he doesnât flinch. âI have to. I need to explain.â
Namjoon doesnât budge, his voice soft but firm. âSorry, hyung. Not after everything.â
Yoongiâs eyes flick to you again, desperate. âI just⊠fuck,â He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. âI canât let her think she doesnât matter to me. She does. More than anyone.â
Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, itâs your voice that responds.
âYoongi.â Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongiâs face makes your lungs shrivel.
You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. âYou should go.â
Yoongiâs lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.
âIâm sorry,â he whispers, his voice so soft you almost donât hear it.
Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.
The first step is always the hardest.
Namjoon didnât sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. âI love you,â he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, âbut youâre the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.â
You hated hearing it, but he was right.
So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything youâd buried for years. The abandonment issues youâd carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking thatâs okay.
Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldnât come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from youâbuilt piece by piece, nurtured, protected.
You realized that loving yourself wasnât selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.
At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frameânot just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.
You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.
Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it feltâthe rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.
Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didnât even realize you were carrying.
And then there was Yoongi.
He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:
Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.
Yoongi: Iâm sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.
Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.
Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.
Yoongi: Iâm an idiot.
Yoongi: Iâll wait for you. Just tell me when youâre ready to talk.
Then came the texts about Haneul:
Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.
Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.
Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]
Yoongi: Hanâs been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.
And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.
Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.
Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says youâre joining a mini marathon. Good luck!
Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. Itâs too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.
Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didnât get to watch it.
They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongiâs texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes feltâhow he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like heâs choosing you.
Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, heâs still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.
But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. Youâre both surprised and relieved he hasnât stopped trying, that he hasnât grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.
Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if youâd been braver back then, you couldâve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldnât have felt like such an uphill climb.
But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldnât have believed him then. The progress youâve made nowâto love yourself firstâfeels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.
Youâve come to realize through all this that you donât really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadnât understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didnât excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.
Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the âwhat ifsâ with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.
You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know heâs waiting. You just hope that when youâre finally ready to let him back in, heâll still be thereâon the other side, willing to try again.
One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. âHey, Iâve got something for you.â
âNo, I donât need more lube, Iâm stocked,â you joked, just to be a piece of shit.
âShut up and listen,â he said, laughing. âHybeâs opening a daycare for employeesâ kids. They need someone to run it. Youâre perfect for this.â
Your stomach flipped. âWhat? Joonie, I donât evenââ
âDonât even try to argue,â he interrupted. âYou have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. Câmon, this is made for you.â
âWhat if Iâm not ready?â
Namjoon sighed. âYou are. Iâve seen how much work youâve been putting in. Youâre stronger than you think. Just⊠apply. The worst they can do is say no.â
Youâre quiet, so he added. â...and they wonât. Iâll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.â
âYouâre too much, Joonie,â you laugh. But you surely wonât put it past him to do that. âBut ok, Iâll apply.â
So you did. And a week later, you got the call.
Your first day at Hybeâs daycare center feels like a dream you didnât know you had. The space is beautifulâsunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.
Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. âYou nervous?âÂ
âNope,â you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.
Namjoon chuckles. âRelax. Youâre going to crush this.â
Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.
âJeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,â Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.
âHi!â Jeongyeon squeaks.
You crouch down to her level. âHi, Jeongyeon! Youâre gonna have so much fun today.â
âFirst kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, âCongratulations, Y/N.â
Just as theyâre leaving, Namjoon nudges you. âBy the way, did you know thereâs a capybara mascot today?â
âWhat?â you blink, confused.
Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.
âWhat theâŠâ You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. âHybe really went all out, huh?â
Namjoon smirks. âOf course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.â
You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. âGuess Iâm a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.â
The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up.Â
Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight youâd carried for weeksâgone. Thereâs no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.
His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.
Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nannyâs hand and waddles toward you.
âHi, sarang,â you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. âI missed you.â
You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but thereâs no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. Heâs probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.
The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneulâs attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.
âAppa!â Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.
You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. âThatâs not your appa, Haneul. Heâs probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.â
The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you donât dwell on it, too caught up in Haneulâs delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.
For the rest of the morning, youâre in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out âAppa!â again, and you canât help but laugh.
And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever thereâs a chance, well⊠you just chalk it up to coincidence.
(One day, much later, youâll find out the truth. But for now, youâre content not knowing.)
That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.
Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!
You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smileâa small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.
You: Thanks, Yoongi. Iâm really happy. :)
His reply came almost immediately.
Yoongi: You deserve it
And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.
You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr
:)
A/N:Â
Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. đ
I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. đ€Â
If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo
Part 4 is coming uppp and itâs gonna be a doozy~ đ€
P.S. As some of yâall know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she couldâve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Yâall can rest easy. Heâs yours! đ
& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.
Taglist:
@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld
@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos
@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97
@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025
@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk
@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen
@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake
@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond
@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne
@eurydiceofterabithia @diame93 @welcometomyworld13 @wonh0oe @lilkittenjenjen @jalexad
@jkkkkkay @chimmisbae @angellekookie @jovanaprime @txtsoobean @joonlovely
@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve
#yoongi x reader#yoongi fic#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts fanfic#yoongi x oc#yoongi x you#myg x reader#myg x y/n#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x oc#min yoongi fanfic#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x y/n#suga x y/n#suga x you#suga x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi x y/n#yoongi fanfic#suga fic#suga smut#suga bangtan#bts fanfiction#bts fic#bts x reader#bts smut#yoongi imagines#bts x you#bts x y/n
277 notes
·
View notes
Text
Listen I love the âdicks being ostracized from his family and self destructsâ trope in fics however
I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes⊠okay⊠if thatâs how you feel?
Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. Heâs off the emergency calls and his âcall for city wide emergencyâ has been down graded to âcall for world wide emergencyâ heâs no longer on comms with oracle
He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesnât send info for investigation and doesnât go within 100feet of Gotham.
Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats
In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. Theyâre Dick and Donna a world doesnât exist where they arenât okay.
And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like âteen titans grown up??â âOriginal titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!â
Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.
And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donnaâs apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.
And Dick says âsure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hourâ as soon as the first sentence is out
No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)
Dick is patched into their comms and heâs working efficiently except heâs not⊠acting like himself.
Heâs collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, heâs discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.
But heâs talking to them the way he talks when heâs offering aid to teams heâs not a part of.
Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because heâs doing good work. Work thatâs on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isnât letting their personal issues affect his work.
Heâs speaking but not talking
And Bruce remembers this⊠heâs probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.
Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.
Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches
Bruce and Dick were strangers
And now theyâre back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, theyâve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.
And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.
Once theyâve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that heâll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.
And then heâs gone
No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesnât stay places heâs not welcome.
And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didnât know Bruce Wayne.
And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says âthe day he found out Jason diedâ
And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc heâs helpful like that)
So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isnât the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donnaâs apartment and well itâs daylight and sheâs in civvies sheâs if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesnât wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!
And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up
Something something this is such a nice surprise something something itâs so good to see you.
Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever theyâre together for a long time they cook together.
So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.
Because he picked up the habit again since heâs the better cook between him and Donna.
And itâs delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything thatâs going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.
Itâs a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.
He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if itâs an end of the world or theyâre near death and need immediate aid.
And thatâs like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if youâre Dicks family you have to care or else. Heâll love you and help you, when you need it but he wonât tie his life up with yours, heâll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.
Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because theyâre neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.
(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and canât ask him how the fuck heâs supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way theyâre teaching him no he canât use the old method theyâre supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donnaâs in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)
#dick grayson#batfam#AU#nightwing#batman#comics#bruce wayne#jason todd#tim drake#batfamily#damian wayne#the titans are family your honor#Dick Grayson and Donna Troy#theyâre the besties#corporate wants to you point out the difference between these two photos#and itâs Donna Troy and Dick Grayson#itâs the same photo#titans
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure
My planned post â the âIn Dedication of JVNâ one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is â was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. Thereâs pictures?!
In truth, I thought weâd collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.
Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.
Itâs funny because Iâve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, itâs because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that laterâŠ
So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.
I thought it would be fun to play a little game of âChoose Your Own Adventureâ to determine if weâre ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.
Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).
Now, gather âround and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!
Iâm sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you.Â
On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Lukeâs jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Lukeâs scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too âCasualâ when youâre headed down south (pun intended â as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where Iâll âinsert disclaimer that this is speculation only.â
The following day, we had the actual premiere. Iâm not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicolaâs Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Lukeâs mouth that day! âThereâs a carriage downstairs.â âI mean, in this heat, all Iâm thinking about is when we didnât have to wear clothes âcos that would be quite nice right now.â âI mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].â With Nicola whispering back, âThis is true.â Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because â God forbid! â she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, letâs not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that womanâs back (Iâm sorry, I donât recall her name and Iâm too lazy to look it up â mainly, because Iâm certain most of you donât really care about that other woman).
We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each otherâs company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Lukeâs lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead â let your imagination run wild â itâs a great opening for a FanFic).
Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roanâs âKaleidoscopeâ (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldnât stop giggling about the âmeatâ of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicolaâs answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Lukeâs âLike, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?â). And, we canât ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicolaâs spoon after sheâd sampled a dish. Donât even get me started on over-analyzing Lukeâs âmanspreadâ that day.
Letâs also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade â because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.
Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each in Brazil.
By themselves.
In one or the otherâs room.
On the beach.
By the pool.
There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.
The only evidence we have of any âalone timeâ are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.
Now that the backdrop has been set, letâs go on my little adventure.
During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a âChoose Your Own Adventure.â
If you donât know what a âChoose Your Own Adventureâ book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.
Here we go.
As the protagonist of our story, you are:
THE EMPLOYEE
Youâre an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; youâve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesnât matter â youâre all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotelâs guests. But, in this story, letâs say youâre the housekeeper because â whatâs that old saying â the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?
Youâre cleaning Nicolaâs room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As youâre leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway â headed straight towards the room youâre just leaving! It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?
Choice A: Well, youâre a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they donât even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you canât keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends canât keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. Youâre meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.
Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you donât have âreceipts.â
THE VIP GUEST
Youâre a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, youâre a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. Youâve seen so many at this point, you donât even bother to read them.
You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, youâre confronted with â goddammit, thereâs two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the womanâs dress is so awkwardly large, he canât seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?
Choice A: You canât believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didnât even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you canât control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie â but only until youâve had your morning coffee.
Choice B: You take peopleâs privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you donât take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. Youâll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.
THE RANDOM STRANGER
Youâre a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. Itâs so peacefulâŠthe sound of the waves⊠Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like â shit, it is! â two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute â is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!
Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You canât believe this! How long have you been filming? Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Whoâs this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides. Asshole.  You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, âNo.â Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.
Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you donât look suspicious at all, even though youâre practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, youâve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Lukeâs teams? But, hell, you donât even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell meâŠ.
The End.
Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones donât even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?
If weâre being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they arenât?
That the pictures probably donât exist. Donât shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!
But, letâs say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups â for example, a random stranger â (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didnât drop them on social media, and/or (c) didnât share them with someone who dropped them on social media?
Iâm all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.
Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.
Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, âThree can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.â
Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.
If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicolaâs team (of lawyers). So, unless theyâre going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, itâs been known to happen), youâre probably never going to see them â and thatâs assuming they even exist.
However, if youâre the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs youâre just dying to share, just find yourself a printer â one that cannot easily be linked back to you â and print them out. Then, âaccidentlyâ drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friendâs brotherâs sister-in-lawâs third cousinâs wifeâs neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.
#lukola#luke newton#nicola coughlan#my thoughts#my opinion#speculation only#just me being ridiculous
256 notes
·
View notes
Note
You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.
-Shrimp Anon
The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.
Get ready cause this is a yap session:
Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.
I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.
The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.
This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.
Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...
These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.
I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.
Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.
It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.
I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.
It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.
There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.
End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.
#i also think it is because mouthwashing is first and foremost a game about rape culture and the patriarchy especially in work spaces#regarding women and centering conversation around Curly a man rubs people wrong because it does overshadow that commentary#but it still mixes other topics into its initial theming and message on how abuse conditions you to accept certain things that are harmful#and how getting used to a culture/enviornment does not mean you are happy healthy or most importantly safe in it. I personally like to#explore those aspects where it mixes all the themes so we can discuss the ways you have to watch out for things because there is a differen#in the idea Curly enabled Jimmy just because they were bros and because he was an example of another man afraid to step out from what#is a still oppressive system that does try to punish those who act against it even if they fall in the category of those who would benefit#from it as Jimmy and PE 100% represent that sort of misogynistic system where men that would be âgoodâ are altered until they follow line#in a way both on the personal and professional level as PE is the corporate lock out and Jimmy represents the social and its just the issue#that the discussion of it sounds like âin defense of menâ when I am more so trying to discuss how it is much deeper than men being scared t#upset other men but complacency is rewarded by not becoming another person subjugated hence as all the moments Curly does try to do#something we can tie it back to how Jimmy reacts and a possible penality from PE where we now need to address the ways to combat those#two concepts so we dont get cases like Curly or Daisuke or Swansea where male avoidance of the issue is considered neutral or even good.#i think most of this boils down the perfect victim mentality to where if someone who underwent or is being abused is not a perfect example#or accpetible type than their abuse can not be considered a valid or substantial reason for effects on their behavior compounded with the#fact that Anya's abuse at the hands of Jimmy is a systematic issue that Curly is a part of even if unwillingly and was more physically#violating and topical cause sometimes i have to remind myself that all media is still critiqued through the lens of the culture it came out#in cause i do think about what if this game came out inlike 2014 like the conversations would be sooooooo different could you imagine it?#but back the before statement Curly isn't perfect but I feel like boiling it down if hes a good person or man is not the point of the game#but more so good people can still be part of the problem and the idea of condemning a person for one act creates a false sense of#rightouesness and justice that does not aid the victim and in fact aids the abusers in escaping blame for their mulitple behaviors as we se#how the men on the ship tend to blame Jimmy for just one act against them including himself while there is a plethora of things Anya is#concerned about with Jimmy#and its not that Curly just made one mistake with Jimmy but more so we consider his actions more damning because he didn't stop Jimmy#instead of focusing on the fact Jimmy did what he did regardless of Curly and the consequence because we already know he's bad n maladjuste#which is problem in the conversation where the individuals are blamed but the system and perputrator are overlooked in a sense of acceptiab#complacency as we know how they are and the lack of tangibility to personally affect them on a larger scale like I should just make a post#on like cutting out the face when it comes it confronting systems of oppression rather than tag talking but just ask me to clarify if#you want that like im jus trying to say we avoid talking about Jimmy and PE so much cause it is obvious what they do wrong that we make#the initial and inherent problem out to be one aspect someone in this case Curly does and the the constraints they use to force actions
137 notes
·
View notes