#jay park fluff

[ickbite]

I’LL BE YOUR BABYDOLL !!

Pairing: SliceofLifeYoutuber!Jay x FamilyYoutuber reader

Synopsis: when a clip of your daughter asking you to marry Jay from youtube goes viral, you can’t help the new feelings that came with the publicity.

Note: i loveee mommy readers i cant lie i had a jake fic likee 4 years ago where he was the baby daddy and he found out years later lmk if i should bring that back or make a part 2… no angst just fluff and a lovely family dynamic— enha masterlist

You didn’t mean to film today. You really didn’t. The plan was to sleep in, maybe do pancakes if you could talk yourself into it, and let the rain do the heavy lifting when it came to entertainment.

But, of course, your daughter had other ideas.

“Can we make a video?” she asked, already dragging the tripod out from the corner like she owned the place. “Please, please, please! I wanna show everyone my doll and my sparkly rock and my dance moves!”

You blinked at her from the couch, still in the hoodie you’d slept in and cradling a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. Her hair was sticking out in about five different directions, her pajama top was on inside-out, and she looked like she hadn’t blinked since the idea entered her brain.

“…You didn’t even brush your teeth.”

“I did it yesterday.”

You sighed and set the mug down. “Fine, but I’m not putting on makeup.”

“You look pretty already, mommy,” she said, already winning.

Fifteen minutes later, the camera was rolling.

“Hi friends,” you said, tugging your knees up to your chest as you sat cross-legged on the floor. The living room behind you looked semi-tolerable — toy baskets tucked into corners, pillows fluffed just enough to pass.

Next to you, your daughter waved a sparkly pink hairbrush like a wand.

“I’m back with the star of the channel—”

“It’s me,” she whispered to the camera, wide-eyed.

“Yes, yes it is. It’s a rainy day today, so we’re doing a cozy little video. No makeup, no fancy lights. Just us, some snacks, and probably five too many stuffed animals.”

“Six,” she corrected, already building a mountain of plushies behind her.

“Right. My bad.”

The vlog flowed like a stream of consciousness — soft, silly, and totally unplanned. She showed off her favorite items one by one: a plastic butterfly ring, a tiny glitter jar she insisted was “fairy dust,” and the rock. The rock she found two weeks ago on the sidewalk and now kept in a special box like it was a diamond.

“This is Rocco,” she said proudly, holding it up to the lens. “He’s magic but only on Tuesdays.”

You tried not to laugh as you nodded. “Naturally.”

Then came the dance break, the “Guess the Animal” game., and a very passionate performance of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star into the hairbrush mic, complete with dramatic bowing.

You leaned back against the couch, watching her with tired eyes and a full heart.

She was chaos, glitter, and warmth wrapped into one tiny body. And even though your head ached and your inbox was full and the laundry was judging you from the hallway, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Later, when the camera was off and she was curled up on your lap with her arms loosely around your waist, you ran your fingers through her hair and whispered, “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

“I know,” she mumbled into your sweatshirt, already half-asleep.

“You’re gonna be so mad when I show this video to your future partner.”

She smiled against your chest. “Only if they’re weird.”

You laughed.

She didn’t even realize that she’d just captured something special — not for the algorithm, not for followers, but for you. A little snapshot of who she was at this exact age. Her silly stories. Her soft voice. Her wide eyes. Her everything.

You kissed the top of her head and pulled the blanket over both of you.

Tomorrow, maybe you’d edit the video or maybe you’d just keep this one for yourself.

You didn’t mean to post it.

Well, you did, but not in the way that mattered.

It was almost midnight, and you were curled up in bed with your laptop heating your thighs and a bowl of half-melted ice cream on the nightstand. Naelle had knocked out hours ago, her unicorn tucked under her arm and one sock halfway off. The rain was still tapping gently against the window, the apartment humming with that rare, end-of-day stillness.

You’d started editing just to wind down.

You were halfway through the video when it happened: you hit play on a random, barely lit clip and there it was—Naelle’s tiny voice clear as day:

“Can you marry him now?”

You paused. Rewound.

“Jay from YouTube. He cooks pancakes and he has a plant named Potato.”

You stared at the screen, eyebrows lifting so high they practically left your face.

“…What.”

You hadn’t even heard her say that while filming. You must’ve been too busy laughing at her chicken nugget meltdown or trying to stop her from gluing googly eyes to the cat toy bin. But there it was—spoken with full toddler conviction.

Your face in the background was priceless. Stunned. Speechless. Slightly offended that she’d made the decision without you.

You started laughing. Actual belly-laughing into your throw blanket. You dragged the clip into a separate timeline and trimmed it down to fifteen seconds. A little caption. A little music. Just for fun.

Just for you and the 43 people who consistently watched your Stories.

“My daughter has a type, apparently. Should I be concerned?? #momlife #chaoskid #toddlertalk”

You hit “post to TikTok,” shut your laptop, turned off the light, and fell asleep with a smile still tugging at your lips.

You woke up to your phone screaming.

Buzz after buzz after buzz, your screen lighting up like it was fighting for its life.

Messages. Notifications. Mentions. DMs. A missed call from Megan.

Megs 🍓: WHY IS YOUR FACE ON MY FYP AND WHY DOES YOUR KID WANT U TO MARRY JAY

HeeseungReacts: not the toddler having more confidence than me 😭

sunoo.glow: this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen I’m sobbing

Your eyes widened as you tapped open the TikTok app.

And then you froze.

463.7k likes.

Over 2.1 million views.

“DUETED BY: JayDoesLife”

You blinked. Refreshed. Blinked again.

“WHAT.”

You scrambled upright in bed, covers flying, heart hammering in your chest like it was trying to burst out and sprint into the hallway. You opened the duetted video with shaking hands.

The split screen began.

Left side: Naelle, proudly declaring Jay as your future husband.

Right side: Jay himself — messy-haired, hoodie-wearing, sitting cross-legged in what looked like a sunlit kitchen, watching the video with a slow-building smile.

When Naelle finished her declaration, he tilted his head and smirked.

“She’s got taste. And apparently a plan.” He held up a juice box like a toast. “Tell her I’ll bring the snacks.”

The video ended with him laughing into his sleeve, eyes crinkling like he’d just witnessed the best thing all week.

You screamed into your pillow.

Not metaphorically at the happiness, but literally at the stress of this newfound fame.

You stumbled into the kitchen on autopilot, phone still in your hand, Naelle’s sock half-stuck to your pajama pants. You opened the fridge, stared at the oat milk like it held answers, then slowly turned back to your phone.

The comments were blowing up.

This child is my new favorite matchmaker 😭

Jay and Y/N better collab. For the sake of the child. And also my sanity.

You better wife him up for all of us.

WAIT HE KNOWS YOU??? WHAT’S GOING ON????

You groaned, flopping face-first onto the kitchen table.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to go viral. You were a mom. You made simple, unedited vlogs with soft music and bad lighting and the occasional existential monologue while folding baby socks. You weren’t someone who had celebrities responding to your daughter like they were taking her seriously.

Naelle wandered in half-asleep, hair fluffed and eyes squinting against the kitchen light.

“Mommy?”

You sat up fast. “Hey, baby. Want breakfast?”

She nodded, yawning dramatically. “Did you marry Jay yet?”

You dropped your forehead back onto the table.

You weren’t sure what kind of morning it was supposed to be, only that your stomach felt half-full of butterflies and half-full of dread. There was something about the way the air sat in the apartment — heavy with anticipation and faintly smelling like lemon cleaner — that made you feel like the walls themselves were waiting for something, too.

Naelle was sitting in the corner of the living room, cross-legged in her too-small ballerina tutu, gently humming a tune she was clearly making up on the spot. She cradled her plush unicorn in her lap like a sleeping baby, brushing its tangled pink mane with the tiny plastic fork from last night’s takeout box.

Her cereal sat untouched on the coffee table, milk slowly turning warm in the bowl while the marshmallow shapes dissolved into colorless clouds. You couldn’t blame her. Your own mug of coffee had been reheated three times and was still going cold beside your laptop.

Your phone, however, refused to be ignored.

Every ten minutes — sometimes less — it buzzed with another ping, another notification, another message from someone who’d seen the video. They were strangers, acquaintances, even people from high school you hadn’t spoken to in years, all asking the same question in varying degrees of shock:

“Was that really Jay from YouTube?”

The answer, maddeningly, was yes.

You hadn’t expected it. Not the duet. Not the numbers. And certainly not the spiral it triggered inside your chest every time you checked your notifications.

It had been cute at first — the way people reacted to Naelle’s voice, the way they replayed her words like she was a tiny oracle. But then came the edits, the tweets, the mutuals messaging you things like “YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM,” and the comment threads analyzing your laugh and trying to match your kitchen backsplash to your exact address.

What started as funny quickly became overwhelming, and what was once overwhelming soon felt like being caught in a wave you weren’t ready to ride.

So, when your inbox pinged with a new message titled “jaydoeslife.collab@gmail.com,” your hands went cold before you even clicked.

✉️ From: imnayeon@jaydoeslife.net

Subject: Let’s talk — Jay x Y/N Collab?

Hi Y/N,

I’m Nayeon — Jay Park’s manager. Jay saw your video (as you probably already guessed), and to say he was charmed would be an understatement. He hasn’t stopped talking about your daughter or the phrase “pancakes and babysitting” since it went up. We were wondering if you’d be open to filming a casual, family-friendly collaboration. Something like “YouTuber Babysits for a Day” or “Toddler Teaches the YouTuber Life.” Very relaxed. Very wholesome. We’ll keep it simple and easy.

Of course, no pressure at all — if it doesn’t feel right, we completely understand. But Jay would love the chance to meet you both, and I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly.

xo,

Im Nayeon

You read the message three times, then a fourth just to make sure it hadn’t somehow changed while you were blinking.

The first time, your eyes skimmed it in disbelief, your brain unable to process the words in any meaningful order. The second time, you clutched your mug like it might anchor you to the earth while reading it aloud under your breath. The third time, you paced the kitchen like a CEO preparing for a scandal press release, whispering, “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,” even though it was clearly not fine.

Naelle, who had been watching you from her booster seat with growing suspicion, finally asked the obvious.

“Is something happening?”

You paused mid-step, your voice pitched too high. “…Maybe.”

Her spoon hung frozen in the air, a soggy star-shaped marshmallow dripping from its edge. “Are we famous now?”

You stared at her, equal parts horrified and impressed. “What would you even do with fame?”

She shrugged with the exaggerated nonchalance only a four-year-old could pull off. “Make everyone wear matching pajamas forever.”

You pressed a hand to your chest and let out a quiet laugh, half-choked and entirely overwhelmed. Of course that would be her plan.

You typed out a reply with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. You read it seven times before sending it, then stared at your outbox like the message might crawl back out and bite you.

Nayeon responded within an hour, bubbly and to-the-point, as if this was the easiest thing in the world and you weren’t currently spiraling in a hoodie that had toothpaste on the sleeve. She confirmed that Jay was free this weekend and proposed a filming date — this Saturday, at your place.

The reasoning was sound: “Naelle seems most comfortable in her home environment,” Nayeon had written, followed by a winking emoji and the phrase “We want this to be fun, not a production.”

But when you read the part that said “Saturday”, your whole body tensed.

That was two days away. You may have actually gasped — a sharp, small sound that echoed against the fridge door.

What followed could only be described as panic-fueled preparation. You didn’t just clean the house. You purged it. You reorganized toy bins and folded couch blankets like your life depended on it. You vacuumed in corners that hadn’t seen daylight in months. You mopped under furniture you forgot you owned.

You even Febrezed the ceiling.

“Mommy,” Naelle asked gently from the couch, surrounded by a pile of stuffed animals she’d arranged like a medieval council. “Why are you cleaning the air?”

You paused mid-spray, caught with your arm extended toward the light fixture.

“I’m not.”

“You’re vacuuming the ceiling.”

You looked down at the hose in your hand. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

By Friday evening, the anxiety had softened into a strange, itchy hum beneath your skin — something between dread and excitement, like your body couldn’t quite decide which it preferred. Jay wasn’t a stranger anymore, not really, not after watching hours of his soft-spoken baking vlogs and plant updates and chaotic Q&As.

But it wasn’t just about Jay anymore.

The internet had been let in. The curtain had been pulled back. And you were starting to realize your quiet, safe, slow-moving world had been shifted ever so slightly out of orbit — all because your daughter had declared you were destined to marry a pancake-making YouTuber.

You stared at the outfit you’d picked out and hated it.

Then stared at the backup outfit and hated that too.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Megan right as you were mid-spiral.

you: what if he’s weird

megs🍒: babe he’s literally famous for talking to plants and baking banana bread. ur fine.

megs🍒: also pls wear the cream tank top it makes you look hot

You made a strangled sound, threw your phone onto the bed, and yanked the sweater off the hanger.

At 10:14 a.m. on the dot, your doorbell rang.

Naelle let out a squeal that could’ve shattered glass and launched herself off the couch before you could catch her. Her socks slid across the hardwood as she ran full-speed toward the door, shouting, “I GOT IT!!�� like it was the most important moment of her life.

You panicked.

“No no no — wait, Naelle, don’t—!”

But she had already flung the door open with both hands, no hesitation, no filter.

And there he was.

Jay. Standing in your doorway. Holding two coffee cups in one hand and a juice box in the other. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and his hoodie was just oversized enough to make him look unfairly approachable.

Slung over his shoulder was a tote bag that said “This Bag Contains Crumbs” in tiny font. His smile was soft and almost bashful.

“Hey,” he said, looking from your wide-eyed face to your daughter’s radiant one. “I brought caffeine… and juice for the little.”

He held out the juice box like a peace offering.

Naelle snatched it with a delighted gasp and ran off without another word.

You just stood there, blinking.

“…Hi,” you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

And then, as if the moment wasn’t already surreal enough, another figure stepped forward into the doorway.

Nayeon.

She looked like a magazine ad in human form — hair in soft waves, makeup delicate but perfect, outfit pressed without a single wrinkle. She carried a tablet in one hand and a matcha latte in the other, and somehow managed to make standing in your hallway feel like an entrance.

“You must be Y/N,” she said with a warm smile, her tone light but unmistakably polished. “Thank you so much for letting us invade your Saturday. Jay’s been very excited.”

You swallowed.

“Of course,” you said, stepping aside as they entered. “Come in.”

It dropped at exactly 7:32 p.m.

Jay didn’t even warn you.

You had just finished cleaning up from dinner — a lazy post-collab meal of boxed mac and cheese and frozen peas Naelle insisted on arranging into the shape of a flower — when your phone lit up with three notifications at once.

jaydoeslife just posted: “the best pancakes i’ve ever had (ft. the real boss)”

megs🍒: OH MY GOD YOU’RE IN IT

megs🍒: U LOOK SO HOT STOP IT

You blinked at the screen for a full ten seconds before unlocking it with trembling fingers. You didn’t even hesitate — you tapped Jay’s thumbnail, heart pounding, and the video bloomed across your phone.

There it was. Your living room. Your couch.

Your daughter — front and center, wearing her princess tiara and a syrup stain on her cheek, beaming at the camera like she was born to be adored by strangers.

And Jay, beside her, soft and charming and very clearly letting her lead.

“Today, I’m here with the one, the only—”

“NAELLE!! And he’s the assistant.”

You covered your face with one hand. “Oh my God,” you whispered.

The video was chaos in the most charming way.

Naelle narrating the entire recipe in a tone that alternated between fairy queen and exhausted teacher. Jay obediently following every instruction, even when she made him twirl before flipping the pancakes. You, visible in the background once or twice, mug in hand and surprisingly nonchalant despite falling apart internally.

Nayeon had edited it with surgical precision — cutting just enough to keep the pace, but leaving in every unfiltered, heart-tugging, wildly chaotic moment. The lighting was soft. The sound was crisp. The whole thing felt like a rom-com scene you didn’t realize you were starring in until the credits rolled.

And then came the part you’d secretly dreaded.

“I want you to marry Mommy.”

You closed your eyes. You could hear your own breath catch in the background. You could see Jay’s blush in high definition.

“I didn’t know this was a hostage situation,” he joked.

But something in his voice, in the way his eyes flicked toward where you stood just offscreen — it didn’t sound like he hated the idea.

Naelle watched the video twice on the iPad, laughing louder each time she heard her own voice. She asked to watch it again, and you only said no because the comments were already flooding in and your stomach was twisting into unfamiliar shapes.

i’d trust naelle with my life

this is giving SINGLE MOM LOVE STORY ENERGY???!!!

naelle: iconic. jay: soft. y/n: nonchalant dreadhead. me: crying.😭😭❤️

i didn’t come here to catch FEELINGS but here we are.

naelle’s right. marry her. pancakes are serious.

You refreshed the page again. The views were rising so fast it felt unreal. Thousands. Then tens of thousands. Then more. Your face — your home — was in front of the entire internet.

And somehow, instead of panic, there was something warm blooming in your chest. Like maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

At 8:04 p.m., your phone buzzed again.

jay

okay confession

i’ve rewatched the last minute like five times

naelle is the star

but i think you stole the scene

You stared at the message for so long the screen dimmed.

Then lit up again.

if this is too much too fast, tell me

but i’d really like to see you again

even if there’s no pancake making involved

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because you wanted to hold onto the moment. That quiet flutter. The way your cheeks felt flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with the trending tab.

In the hallway, Naelle had fallen asleep on the beanbag chair, still wearing her tiara.

The apartment smelled like pancakes and shampoo and something new you didn’t quite have words for yet.

At 8:11 p.m., you finally texted back.

you:

maybe next time, i’ll make the pancakes

you just bring yourself

And just like that, it wasn’t just a collab anymore.

It was the beginning of something real.

The knock came just as you were finishing dinner — the kind of knock that was too deliberate to be a delivery or a neighbor dropping by. You peeked through the peephole, and there he was: Jay, standing on your doorstep, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking like he’d rehearsed what to say a thousand times but still wasn’t sure.

You swallowed the rush of nerves and opened the door.

“Hey,” he said softly, offering a small smile that made your heart skip in the most inconvenient way. “I thought I’d drop by. No cameras. No plans. Just me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You came back.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping inside like he belonged. “I wanted to see you… and Naelle. Maybe bring that pancake recipe back for round two.”

Naelle, who had been playing quietly with her dolls in the living room, suddenly appeared at your side, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Are we having pancakes again? Can I put the tiara on you?”

Jay crouched down, grinning. “Only if you promise to let me be the prince this time.”

You watched them, their easy laughter filling the room like a melody you didn’t want to end.

From the kitchen, Nayeon appeared, clipboard in hand, her expression softer than usual.

“Looks like the collaboration’s turned into something a little more,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

You nodded, feeling the warmth spread through you — the kind that comes from realizing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

You weren’t sure what you expected when Jay returned without a camera crew, without Nayeon, and without any kind of structured plan — but it wasn’t this.

It wasn’t him sitting barefoot on your floor, cross-legged on the rug, helping Naelle build a cardboard castle with a roll of tape and two empty paper towel tubes. It wasn’t him showing up with a tote bag that was his own merch and pulling out not just snacks, but a miniature potted plant he said he “couldn’t bear to leave alone.”

It wasn’t how easy it was. Or how quiet it felt, in the most dangerous way.

There was something about having him here — without the internet watching, without the performance — that made the walls of your apartment feel closer, warmer. Like your space had expanded to make room for someone new, and your heart had followed suit without your permission.

Naelle had declared it a “pajamas-only evening,” and you hadn’t fought her on it. You’d changed into an old crewneck and leggings. Jay had dutifully accepted the Hello Kitty pajama pants she offered him — they barely reached his ankles, but he wore them anyway.

“I look like a cursed sleepover,” he’d said, deadpan.

Naelle laughed so hard she fell backward onto a pillow.

The hours passed slowly, but comfortably.

At one point, Jay was reading a picture book aloud, doing ridiculous voices for each character while Naelle giggled into your shoulder. At another, he helped her draw a stick-figure comic strip titled “JAY GETS ATTACKED BY PANCAKES”, which she said was based on a true story.

And then, around 8:43 p.m., she yawned.

The kind of yawn that meant it was time.

She fought sleep with every ounce of her dramatic flair, claiming she had “emails to write” and “royal princess meetings” to attend. But you scooped her up anyway, carried her to her room while she mumbled about syrup kingdoms and declared that “Jay needs to come every Friday or else.”

You kissed her goodnight. She was out before the door clicked shut.

When you returned to the living room, the cardboard castle was still mid-construction, but Jay had cleaned up the stray crayons and gathered the glitter into a neat pile like he’d lived here for years.

He looked up when you entered — eyes soft, posture easy, that familiar warmth radiating from him like he didn’t know how not to give it.

And just like that, the silence felt different.

Not awkward. Not heavy.

But charged.

You sat beside him on the floor, your legs stretched out next to his, your knees almost — but not quite — brushing.

“She really likes you,” you said, your voice quiet and unguarded.

Jay glanced toward the hallway where her nightlight glowed faintly through the cracked door. “I really like her,” he said, then added, softer, “I really like you too.”

You didn’t answer right away.

You let the words hang there — heavy but not unwelcome, like rainclouds you weren’t afraid of.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” you finally said, truth resting in every syllable. “Not with a kid. Not online. Not with someone who has… a million people watching.”

Jay nodded. “Me neither. But then you posted that video. And she said that thing about pancakes. And suddenly everything else felt… smaller.”

He wasn’t looking at you when he said it. He was staring at the edge of the cardboard tower, fingers absentmindedly smoothing a wrinkle in the paper like he needed something to ground him.

You looked at him.

Really looked.

And saw not the curated YouTube version of Jay, not the viral softness or camera-ready charm, but the quiet steadiness beneath it all. The patience. The kindness. The part of him that didn’t just show up, but stayed.

So you reached over slowly, carefully, and placed your hand over his.

It was small. Barely a touch.

But it was real.

And when he turned to you, gaze full of something tentative and open and terrifyingly honest, you didn’t pull away.

“I’m not good at letting people in,” you said, barely above a whisper. “But she already let you in. And I think… maybe I want to, too.”

Jay swallowed, his eyes locked on yours. “Then let me in.”

You ended up on the couch, shoulder to shoulder under a fleece blanket, the credits of a movie neither of you had really watched rolling in the background. At some point, Jay had fallen asleep, his head tilted toward yours, breath soft and even.

You should’ve moved.

But you didn’t.

Because for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone. And more than that — you didn’t want to be.

It started small.

A tweet here, a blurry photo there, a comment under one of Jay’s older videos, timestamped and laced with a quiet kind of suspicion.

That couch looks familiar.

Wait… is that the same hoodie from the pancake video??

Not me matching the floor lamp to Y/N’s apartment tour two years ago???

It hadn’t even been 24 hours since Jay had left your place — hoodie rumpled, hair a mess, a faint outline of Naelle’s glitter sticker still stuck to his cheek. He hadn’t filmed anything. He hadn’t posted. But still, they knew.

The internet always knows.

You didn’t notice the full storm until you woke up to 17 texts from Megan.

megs🍒

babe you’re trending

again.

i repeat. AGAIN!!!!!

“mommy’s friend jay” is a THING now

like people are shipping it.

people are writing headcanons.

i think someone’s writing fanfiction. i hate this. i also love this?

AND HE POSTED A PICTURE

You blinked blearily at the screen, one eye open, thumb trembling as you tapped Jay’s account. His newest post was simple:

A blurry shot of a stack of child-sized pancakes on a plastic princess plate.

With the caption: “love looks like syrup and glitter these days.”

Your stomach dropped in the most ridiculous, fluttering kind of way. He hadn’t tagged you. He hadn’t said your name. But the internet didn’t need names to connect dots.

Naelle was humming in the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the door wide open and one sock on, completely unbothered by her sudden viral fame.

You, however, were pacing your kitchen barefoot, scrolling through tagged posts and trying not to panic.

There were clips of the collab spliced with dramatic music. Edits of you and Jay with fake wedding captions. Tweets that read:

I don’t believe in love but I believe in Jay falling for a single mom.

Y/N is the new mother of the internet. Respectfully.

If he doesn’t look at me like Jay looks at her mid-pancake flip, I don’t want it.

📞 nayeon im is calling…

You stared at the screen for two full rings before you answered, voice tight with nerves.

“Hi.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Nayeon said smoothly, her tone clipped but not cold. “Don’t worry — I’m not here to lecture you.”

That was somehow worse.

You sank into the kitchen chair, rubbing your forehead. “How bad is it?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by the soft sound of her sipping something expensive.

“Let’s just say… Jay trending with the word mommy isn’t exactly what I had in this month’s content plan.”

You let out a strangled laugh.

“I knew this might happen,” you said, quieter now. “But I didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

“Well,” Nayeon replied, “you made the mistake of being emotionally available and extremely pretty on camera. That’s on you.”

You groaned into your hands. “What do we do?”

Another pause. Then her voice softened just a little.

“Jay’s an adult. You’re not under contract. This isn’t a scandal. It’s just… complicated. If it makes you feel any better, he hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got back.”

You froze.

“What?”

“I’m not repeating it,” Nayeon said quickly, but her smile was obvious in her voice. “Just… take a breath, Y/N. If this is something real, then it’ll hold. Whether the internet’s watching or not.”

You let the words settle around you like warm tea — comforting and slightly dangerous.

That night, after Naelle had fallen asleep under a mountain of stuffed animals and you were curled up on the couch with your laptop closed and your phone silenced, you received one last message.

jay

if this gets too loud, i’ll turn it down

i like you in the quiet too

And that was when you knew.

It wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t just a viral moment. You were falling. Slowly, steadily. Quietly. But absolutely.

Saturday came faster than you thought it would. The morning began with a glitter explosion. Not metaphorically, literally. Naelle had somehow gotten into her craft bin before breakfast and decided that the only way to properly honor “the ceremony of true love and sparkles” was by tossing an entire packet of pink and silver glitter across the hallway carpet. You found her kneeling in the middle of it, like a priestess summoning something sacred.

“I’m making a magical aisle,” she said solemnly. “You’re not allowed to vacuum it until after the vows.”

You didn’t argue because somehow — this was happening.

Jay showed up just before noon, holding a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and a pack of apple juice boxes he called “offering gifts.” He wore a crown Naelle had made out of pipe cleaners and construction paper, perched crookedly on his head, and a button-down that was just wrinkled enough to prove he hadn’t tried too hard… but had definitely tried.

“You look,” you said, pausing in the doorway as he entered, “like someone who got roped into a royal toddler wedding and is pretending not to love it.”

Jay smiled at you, eyes warm. “I do love it.”

And somehow, he wasn’t talking about the glitter.

The living room had been transformed — pillow aisles, stuffed animals lined up like guests, and a tiara-clad Naelle officiating with a plastic microphone that didn’t work. There were vows, of course. Hers.

“Do you promise to make pancakes and not forget syrup ever again?”

“Do you promise to share all your blankies and hug when she looks sad?”

“Do you promise to like her even when she’s grumpy and says bad words quietly in the kitchen?”

You laughed. Jay nodded, solemn and sure.

“I do,” he said, looking only at you.

When it was your turn, you expected to stumble — to laugh it off or overthink every word.

But Jay leaned in, gently taking your hands in his, and whispered, “You don’t have to say anything rehearsed. Just say what’s real.”

So you did.

You looked at him — this sweet, slightly awkward, thoughtful man who’d stumbled into your world like a misdelivered letter — and said, voice quieter than it should’ve been,

“I didn’t think anyone would ever want all of this. The mess, the mornings, the tiny human, the glitter. But you showed up. Again and again. And you made it feel like… I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m allowed to want things. And I want this.”

Jay didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you — really looked — like he was memorizing every word. Every curve of your mouth. Every inch of the space between you that didn’t feel so wide anymore.

Naelle clapped.

“And now you KISS!”

You froze.

Jay blinked.

Naelle tilted her head. “You have to. Or it’s not official.”

You let out a soft laugh, but something in your chest tightened. You looked back at Jay, unsure whether to lean in or laugh it off — until you saw him swallow, saw his hand twitch once like he wanted to reach for your face.

So you nodded.

Just once.

And that was enough.

He leaned in slowly, almost carefully, like he was asking every second if you still wanted this. His hand brushed your cheek, fingers warm and steady, and when your eyes fluttered shut, he closed the space.

The kiss was gentle. Unrushed. Real.

It wasn’t fireworks — it was softer than that. It was a sigh into warm skin. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for more, just promised that this moment, this connection, was safe.

Jay pulled back first, only by a breath, and looked at you like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that and also like he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner.

You couldn’t help smiling.

Neither could he.

Naelle threw confetti.

You ended up on the floor later — tangled in blankets, plastic rings on your fingers, Jay’s head resting against your shoulder while Naelle drew hearts all over his arm in washable marker.

Nayeon showed up an hour later with coffee and a camera, pausing in the doorway when she saw you like that. Like a family.

She didn’t say anything, only smiled and snapped a picture. Jay didn’t blink and you didn’t flinch because this wasn’t pretend anymore.

This was how it started.

[flwrstqr]

【 備考 】 STUCK WITH U ⟡ GIRLFRIEND PRIVILEGES ───𝖣𝒾𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 ㅤ. . 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

SCR𝓲PT : enhypen and their girlfriend privileges 1OOOwc. ˊᯅˋ fluff head canon ❜ fem!centered && skinship, petnames . . ARCHiVE&CLICK

다니 : i love stuck with u.. it's been my top listened song for the past month. i think i'm addicted to ariana grande TT listening to ari's music & writing = my life

LEE HEESEUNG

"no." heeseung deadpans, effortlessly shutting down jake’s request to borrow one of his hoodies. sunghoon tries next, but heeseung doesn’t even let him finish his sentence before shaking his head. “absolutely not.” the boys groan, grumbling about how selfish he is, but then you come along, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes, and suddenly, he’s a goner. “baby,” he hums, already tugging off the hoodie he’s wearing, “you cold?” he drapes it over your shoulders before you can answer, hands lingering on your waist as he leans in, voice dropping. “looks better on you anyway.” “if you want more, just say the word, love. i’ll empty my whole closet for you.” heeseung smiles. then he smirks, tilting your chin up. “told you,” he muses, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “only my pretty girl gets this privilege.”

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t think twice about it—his card is already out before you can even reach for your wallet. “babe, i got it,” he says, tone final, as he taps to pay for your meal like it’s second nature. he barely ever does this for his members, maybe on their birthdays if they beg, but for you? every time. whether it’s coffee, late-night takeout, or a whole shopping spree, jay never lets you spend a single cent when he’s around. “but jay—” you start to protest, only for him to shoot you a look before casually slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “don’t ‘but jay’ me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “just let me take care of you, okay?” and how could you say no when he’s looking at you like that—like spoiling you is the easiest, most natural thing in the world?

SIM JAKE

jake's phone is always on do-not-disturb or muting conversations—except for you. no matter where he is, what he's doing, or who he's with, the moment your name flashes on his screen, he’s answering. even if it’s three in the morning, voice thick with sleep. “baby?” he murmurs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he sits up, already alert. “what’s wrong? you okay?” his voice is laced with concern, but there’s something else—something soft, like he’d wait all night just to hear you breathe. you don’t even have to say much; the second you sigh, he’s whispering, “i got you, sweetheart. just talk to me.” his hand instinctively reaches for where you’d usually be beside him, but when he finds nothing, he groans, already pulling on a hoodie. “stay there. i’m coming.” because when it comes to you, nothing—not time, not sleep,—gets in the way.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon never lets anyone touch his closet—not even his members. but you? you get free pass, standing in front of his neatly arranged wardrobe as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that soft, amused smile. “baby, not the leather pants,” he groans, watching as you hold them up with a mischievous grin. “they look so good on you, though,” you tease, stepping closer, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, adjusting the collar of his shirt. he exhales, defeated, letting you fix his hair next, his sharp eyes softening under your touch. “you really like dressing me up, huh?” he mutters, but he’s already slipping into the fit you picked. when he turns to the mirror, he huffs a small laugh. “okay, fine. you have good taste.” then, quieter, as he tugs you against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead—“but only you get to do this, got it?”

KIM SUNOO

you’re the only one who gets to take sunoo's phone without asking, stretching out on his bed while you tap away at some game or fill his gallery with blurry selfies. “baby, at least make them cute if you’re stealing my storage,” he whines, but there’s no real complaint in his voice, just fond exasperation. when you glance at him, pouting, he sighs and moves closer, gently pulling you into his arms. “here, let me help,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as he watches you play. and even though he’d usually never let anyone touch his screen, he doesn’t even blink when you scroll through his messages like it’s yours. because, well—so is he.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon sits at his desk, brows furrowed, fingers flying over his keyboard, deep in concentration. anyone else would know better than to interrupt him, butyou have privileges. without hesitation, you step behind him, draping your arms over his shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even pause, just hums in acknowledgment as you pepper kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the slope of his nose. “missed me today, didn't you?” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, but he tilts his head ever so slightly, giving you more access. you giggle, cupping his face and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “hmm maybe,” you tease, and he finally turns his head, letting his lips brush against your cheek. “only because your my pretty princess,” he says.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki never lets anyone touch his hair—never. he dodges, swats hands away, glares if someone even tries. but right now, he’s sitting on the floor in front of you, his head resting against your knees as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft strands, twisting and braiding as a tv show plays in the background. he doesn’t say a word, just hums lightly, his body relaxed like he was made to be here, like your hands in his hair are the most natural thing in the world. when he turns his head, his lips brush against your fingers in a lazy attempt at a kiss, and you gasp. “ack—stop moving, riki! i was trying to braid your hair!” you huff, tugging a little. he only grins, eyes half-lidded as he tilts his head back into your hands. “then don’t stop,” he murmurs, voice teasing. and god, he’s so down bad, because if it’s you, he’d let you do this forever.

[fleuryns]

𓂃 𝄞 . . . ENHYPEN REACTION WHEN YOU WEAR PRETTY MINISKIRTS

( 𝐵𝑂𝑂𝐾𝑆𝐻𝐸𝐿𝐹 ) 🍮 엔하이픈 형 & 𝑓!reader ୧ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 fluff slightly suggestive reactions non–idol au ꒡⌓꒡ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 established relationship pet names kissing skinship

HEESEUNG

you step into the kitchen, adjusting your skirt as you move, and you can feel heeseung's eyes on you instantly.

he’s leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand, but the way his grip tightens ever so slightly makes your heart beat a little faster.

“that’s new” he remarks, his voice low, his gaze traveling down your legs and back up again.

“do you like it?” you ask, spinning slowly, knowing full well the effect you have on him.

he crosses the room in a few quick steps, his hands finding your waist, pulling you close. “like it?” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear “i’m obsessed”.

you laugh softly, but the way his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your hip sends shivers down your spine.

“i might have to cancel our plans” he teases, his voice playful but his eyes full of affection “i can't let anyone else see you like this”.

JAY

it's no surprise to you that jay's favorite way of spending money on you is by buying you pretty skirts.

“go try it on, baby” he encourages, waiting on the couch while you go change. when you emerge back in the living room, he's in awe.

the way the skirt hugs your curves just the right way has him almost drool right then and there, but he's a composed man so he just smiles widely and motions for you to come closer.

“wow, just wow…” he comments, holding your thighs with both of his hands, staring shamelessly at your bare legs.

you place your hands on his shoulders and giggle at his expression. “does it look good?” you ask, taking a few steps back to twirl slowly.

he stands up, closing the distance between you and catching your hand, pulling you against his chest.

“it looks perfect” you look up at his soft smile, and he finally presses his lips on yours passionately.

JAKE

wearing a miniskirt means having jake following you around for the rest of the day like a lovesick puppy. he can't stop looking at you, with that stupid smile plastered on his face.

whenever you're near, his hands trail near your lower back or your upper thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“can you wear that pink skirt today?” he eagerly asks when you have to go out, and you chuckle, knowing you had him all wrapped around your finger already.

you smile knowingly while pulling the skirt out of the closet and jake's eyes immediately light up.

he crosses the room to wrap his arms around your waist gently, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"can you blame me?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple "you look so good in it, i can't help myself".

you roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice and the way he looks at you make your heart skip a beat.

SUNGHOON

his eyes dart over your outfit, and he lingers a moment extra on that cute miniskirt with an unreadable gaze.

but the small smile that he fights to keep in and the shy look in his eyes tell you just how much his brain goes highwire.

“looks good” he mumbles, walking over to you, placing a hand on the side of your hip and pulling you against him.

his hand is constantly near the small of your back, especially when you wear skirts this short.

when you go out, he insists on walking behind you when the path is too crowded.

“just to protect you, nothing else” he keeps insisting as you tease him with a playful smile, but you know his eyes can't help but wander down when you turn back.

you do catch him from time to time, slapping his chest lightly as he stumbles over his words in search for an excuse, and you just laugh at his reddening cheeks.

[mrsjjongstby]

Overruled - p.js

P: Lawyer!Jay x Intern!Reader Synopsis: You weren’t supposed to get this close. Park Jay is your boss — calm, calculating, and impossible to read. You’re the associate with sharp instincts and a habit of calling things like they are. Together, you're a flawless legal team. Working with him was never supposed to feel personal. But late nights blur boundaries. Silence fills with meaning. And somewhere between case files and courtroom wins, something unspoken begins to shift. Warning: Slow-burn tension, jealousy, power imbalance (addressed respectfully), slight possessiveness (non toxic), kiss, physical touch.

Your heels click against the marble floor as you step into the conference room. Nerves sit tight in your stomach — new job, new firm, and everyone here looks like they eat lawsuits for breakfast. You barely sit down before someone enters behind you. 

A man. 

Sharp black suit. Loosened tie. Hair combed back so perfectly it almost feels unfair. He’s not just good-looking. He’s composed. Lethal. Dangerous in the way that makes judges lean forward and opposing counsel lose track of their arguments. 

“New blood?” he asks, not even looking up from the folder in his hands. 

You blink. “Excuse me?” 

He finally glances at you. His eyes are sharp. Observant. He’s already read too much about you, and you haven’t even introduced yourself yet. 

“I meant you,” he says, voice like calm steel. “You’re the one they brought in from the prosecutor’s office.” 

You nod. “And you’re…?” 

He closes the folder, lips twitching. “Jay Park. Senior counsel. And unfortunately for you, your supervisor.” 

Your smile stays polite. Barely. 

“Unfortunate for who exactly?” 

A pause. Then a low chuckle. 

“Alright,” he murmurs. “This might be fun.” 

He walks past you, but not before his arm brushes yours — deliberate or not, you can’t tell. And somehow, even after he’s gone, the air still smells like his cologne and quiet challenge. 

That’s your first warning:  Jay Park doesn’t just play the game. 

He is the game.  

And whether you like it or not, you’re already playing. 

Jay slides the case file across the table to you, sharp and quiet, as the client settles in. He's all smooth charm — buttoned suit, elegant posture, expression carved from polished restraint. You’re seated beside him, back straight, fingers laced. Listening. Watching. 

Jay glances your way once before the client begins. Just one look. Subtle, like a warning. 

Let me handle it. Don’t speak out of turn. You almost smile. 

The client talks — loud, confident, a mess of contradictions about what they did and didn’t do in a contractual breach. Jay nods, listens, asks sharp, narrow questions like a scalpel. 

But they’re missing something. You lean forward slightly, your voice clean, sure. 

“Sorry—just to clarify. You told opposing counsel you never saw Clause 9. But you initialed it, correct?” 

The room goes still for a beat. Even Jay’s pen stops moving. The client shifts. “Well… yeah, but I didn’t read it—” 

“That won’t hold. The clause was visible, initialed, and dated. It won't matter what you meant. It matters what the court sees. We need a different angle.” 

You feel Jay’s gaze hit the side of your face, sharp as a blade. But he doesn’t interrupt. And when the client turns to Jay, a little stunned, Jay leans back slowly. 

“What she said,” he says simply, a tiny glint in his eyes. 

The client clears his throat, suddenly less smug.  “Well... I mean, yeah, I did sign it. I guess I didn’t realize it’d be used against me like that—” 

“You didn’t read your own contract,” you say, not unkindly, but not gently either. “That’s not going to make a judge sympathetic. But if we position the timeline a certain way, we can shift the narrative from negligent to pressured. Which is significantly more defensible.” 

Jay stays silent, watching you. The kind of silence that’s measured. Assessing. The client nods slowly, a little dazed. “Right. Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” 

“I’ll draft a statement by morning,” you add. 

This time, Jay does smile. It’s subtle, barely there — just the curve of his lips and a flicker in his eyes. But it’s there. And when he finally speaks again, it’s directed to the client. 

“You’re in good hands,” he says. “We’ll get started on damage control. You’ll hear from us soon.” 

The meeting wraps quickly after that. The client leaves, mumbling some half-hearted thanks. Then it’s just you and Jay in the room. You close the file calmly, refusing to look over at him. Not first. He’ll expect that. 

But of course, he speaks first anyway. He walks to the other end of the room, slides his hands into his pockets, then finally turns to face you. “You went off script.” 

You lift your chin. “Your script was incomplete.” 

A pause. 

Then — he smiles. Just a little. But it’s dangerous. 

“You do realize you embarrassed a billion-won client.” 

You shrug. “You do it every other Tuesday.” 

He steps closer. His voice is low, deliberate. "You're smarter than I thought.” 

You smile back. “Then you didn’t think hard enough.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh — the sound surprising even himself. Then he says it like a challenge: 

“Alright. Let’s see what happens when I stop underestimating you.” 

The conference room is quieter than usual, except for the occasional click of your pen and the low hum of Jay’s laptop fan. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows. His tie is gone. His blazer is slung over the back of his chair. 

You glance at the clock on the far wall. 

12:13 a.m. 

You’d forgotten how late it was. Time always bends around Jay. He moves through it like it works for him. You rub at your temples, leaning back in the stiff office chair as your eyes skim over the third draft of the witness outline. The fluorescent lights above buzz faintly. 

Jay’s still typing. 

You glance over your laptop screen at him. His tie’s undone, sleeves rolled up. His hair’s starting to fall out of place. He looks almost… human like this. 

“I think my brain's leaking out of my ears,” you mutter. 

Jay doesn’t look up. “Good. That means you’re almost done.” 

You let out a soft, surprised laugh. “You always this charming at midnight?” 

He finishes typing, hits save, then finally glances up at you. His mouth twitches. “I don’t usually stay this late. I prefer mornings.” 

You sip your water. “You say that like it’s a personality trait.” 

Jay leans back in his chair, stretching one arm behind his head, and for the first time tonight, he doesn’t look like Senior Counsel Jay Park. He just looks like a guy who’s also tired and running on stubbornness. 

“You always this talkative when you’re tired?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I talk more when it’s quiet.” 

He’s quiet for a beat. "Don't stop, then.” 

You glance at him. “I mean,” he says, nodding at the document in your hand, “it’s been productive.” 

You huff. “Smooth recovery.” 

“Didn’t realize I needed one.” He tosses you a pen — yours, the one you’d been chewing the cap of earlier — and it lands lightly beside your hand. 

“Page five has a typo, by the way.” 

You sigh dramatically. “Do you ever not notice everything?” 

Jay gives a dry hum, almost a laugh. “Only when I’m trying not to.” You narrow your eyes at him. He looks too innocent. 

“Were you trying not to notice that typo?” 

“No,” he says. “But I’ve been trying not to look at the stress doodle in the margin since you started drawing it twenty minutes ago.” 

You look down. The tiny, cartoonish angry face you drew on the corner of the page stares up at you. You groan and shove the page into your folder. “Forget you saw that.” 

Jay smiles—not smug, not mocking. Just… genuine. Relaxed. "I'll pretend I didn’t.” 

And you both return to work. No music. No big moment. Just two people, sharing silence. Sharing space. And for the first time since you met him, you realize Jay Park doesn’t always need to be cold to be composed. 

Sometimes, he’s just quiet. 

You don’t mean to listen.  You just stop walking. 

“…She handled that deposition better than anyone expected,” says a familiar voice — Mr. Han, one of the senior partners. “Not bad for someone who’s barely been here a month.” 

You pause mid-step. 

There’s a beat of silence before Jay replies. 

“Better than you expected,” he says smoothly. 

Mr. Han lets out a chuckle. “Come on. You were skeptical too.” 

Another pause. Then— 

Jay, quieter this time:  “I wasn’t skeptical. I was curious.” 

Your heart ticks. 

Mr. Han hums. “You’re not usually this invested in junior associates.” 

Jay’s voice doesn’t shift much, but there’s something careful about the way he says it:  “She thinks fast. She doesn’t scare easy. That’s rare.” 

You don’t mean to stand there, holding your stupid paper, half-hidden behind the doorframe. But then Mr. Han says, “She reminds me of you, you know. Younger. Hungrier.” 

Jay laughs—just once. Dry. 

“She’s smarter than I was at her age.” 

That lands hard. Harder than it should. You step away quietly, back into the hallway, pretending like you didn’t just hear that. Pretending you’re not feeling... something.  

Later that day, you pass him by the elevators. He nods like always. Controlled. Calm. But now you know what he says when you’re not in the room. And maybe that changes something. Just a little. Ok- maybe be bit more. 

And so, after that day something changed- you dont know what but you do know its cause of him. Not because of anything he said to you. But because of what he said when he didn’t think you were listening. 

You start noticing it in the small things. 

The way your files are suddenly reviewed a few hours earlier than usual, with quiet edits that weren’t there before. The way he stops interrupting you in meetings — not because he’s holding back, but because he’s actually listening. The way his gaze lingers for half a second longer when you speak, like he’s measuring something invisible in your words. 

He doesn’t say much. He never does.But you notice the shift in how he hovers near your desk just long enough to ask if you’ve eaten before a court session. How he passes you a printout you didn’t ask for but needed. How he gives you space in rooms where there was never space before. 

And none of it is loud. It’s not a declaration. It’s not romantic. But it’s real. And you don’t know what changed for him either. But you catch him looking at you sometimes — not like he’s judging, not like he’s calculating. Just curious. 

Like he’s still figuring out what made him change, too. 

And maybe thats the reason why you got defensive over him because, it was late afternoon. You’re in the firm’s break room with two other junior associates. Jay’s just stepped out of a meeting nearby.  

“He’s cold,” Kiara says, stirring sugar into her iced Americano. “Jay Park, I mean. Like—yeah, he’s good, but he’s got no people skills.” 

Another scoffs. “No personality either. I heard he once got a settlement offer and didn’t even flinch. Just stared until the guy folded.” 

You don’t mean to jump in. You really don’t. But the way they talk about him like he’s a machine— You close the cabinet, grab your mug, and say, calm but clear: 

“You don’t have to like him. But don’t pretend he doesn’t care.” 

Silence. 

One of them blinks. “Care about what?” 

You shrug, but your voice is firm. “The job. The outcome. Us, even if he doesn’t say it out loud. He notices everything. Half the time we don’t mess up because he already fixed it before we saw the mistake.” 

The other mutters, “Still acts like a robot.” 

You glance over. “He stayed late last Friday to proof my witness outline after I went home. Didn’t take credit. Didn’t say a word about it.” 

They quiet down. Sip their drinks. 

“Maybe being cold isn’t always cruelty. Maybe it’s just... how he protects himself.” 

You say, not knowing jay’s within ear-shot. Standing just around the corner listening. He doesn’t move. His face doesn’t change. But for a second — just a second — he closes his eyes like your words knocked the air out of him. Then he turns and walks away before you ever see him there. 

The office is still, fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. Your takeout container sits open beside your laptop, steam curling up in the dim workspace. You’re halfway through your last paragraph when you hear the elevator doors open. You glance up just in time to see Jay step out, a case file under one arm, phone in the other. He slows slightly when he sees you. 

You blink. “You’re still here?” 

He lifts his brows. “You’re one to talk.” 

You shrug. “Deadline.” 

Jay walks toward his office but pauses near your desk when he notices the food. 

“Is that—kimchi jjigae?” he asks. 

You glance down. “Yeah. Place across the street.” 

He hesitates. “Did you get extra rice?” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you not eat?” 

He doesn’t answer. Just glances at the time on the corner of your screen. You sigh and hold up the spare container — the one you always order by habit, in case you get hungry later. He looks at it like it’s foreign. 

“I’m not stealing your dinner,” he says. 

“You’re not,” you reply. “I’m offering it.” 

Another pause. Then, with a small shake of his head and a barely-there smile:  “Alright. If you insist.” 

Fifteen minutes later, you're both eating on opposite ends of the long meeting table. Not talking. Not needing to. The silence is… comfortable. 

Jay sets his spoon down and leans back. “You eat fast.” 

You glance up. “You eat like someone who’s trying not to look like he’s enjoying it.” 

He tilts his head. “Do I?” 

“You do,” you say, stabbing your last piece of tofu. “You’re very... composed about stew.” 

He chuckles — actually chuckles. It’s short and dry, but genuine. 

“I don’t usually eat with anyone in this office.” 

“Why not?” 

Jay’s quiet for a moment. Then, “Too many people talk to fill silence. You don’t.” 

You glance over at him. He’s not looking at you — just poking at his rice, like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. You smile softly. “I take that as a compliment.” 

Jay finally glances up, meets your eyes.“It is.” 

The moment stretches just enough to make your heart stutter once.Then you both return to your food. No rush. No need to explain anything. You weren’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t either. But somehow, this feels like the most peaceful part of your day. 

A week later. It’s late evening. You’ve been working nonstop for hours — You don’t look up at first — too focused. The knock comes again, sharper. You pause your music, expecting maybe an intern or someone needing notes. 

Instead, it’s Jay. 

You blink, sliding your chair back. “What?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks in and places a small white paper bag on the corner of your desk. 

You stare. “What’s this?” 

“Dinner.” 

Your brow furrows. “I didn’t order anything.” 

“I know.” 

You look from the bag to his face. Jay is completely neutral, like this is just… procedure. 

“You didn’t have to—” 

“You skipped lunch,” he says, cutting you off. “And the last thing you ate was the half granola bar in your drawer. Two bites. Left corner.” 

Your mouth falls slightly open. He doesn’t look proud of himself. Just matter-of-fact. 

You narrow your eyes. “Were you snooping in my drawer?” 

“I was looking for a highlighter. Your snack stash betrayed you.” 

You fight a smile and open the bag. Warm rice. Braised tofu. Just enough spice. It’s from the place he likes — the one you teased him about for being “boring but reliable.” 

“You remembered what I ordered last time,” you murmur. 

Jay shrugs. “You picked around the onions. Figured you wouldn’t want them.” 

Your chest goes still for a moment. He doesn’t linger. 

“You can go back to working,” he says, already halfway to the door. “Just don’t pass out on the keyboard.” You open the container, warmth rising from it. 

“Jay,” you call out. 

He turns, hand on the doorframe. 

“Thanks.” 

He nods once. “Don’t mention it.” 

But just before he leaves, his voice lowers — quiet, not quite teasing. 

“...Seriously. Don’t. People already think I’m getting soft.” 

You chuckle at that and jay leaves with a small smile on his face, glad that he made you chuckle. 

You sit beside Jay at the long wooden table, your notes highlighted and scribbled with last-minute margin thoughts. Across the aisle, the other side’s lead counsel rises for redirect, trying to salvage a messy witness. 

Jay leans in just slightly, murmuring, “He’s rushing. Watch for the contradiction.” 

You nod once, eyes trained on the man stuttering through a weak explanation. And there it is — a misstep. 

“He just gave us the opening,” you whisper. 

Jay slides the paper in front of you, pen underlining a single clause from the original contract. Then he stands. “Your Honor,” he says, calm as ever, “we’d like to request a brief recross.” 

Objection. Overruled. 

Jay gestures toward you — he’s letting you take this one. You rise slowly, already flipping through your documents. The courtroom quiets. You don’t even glance at the witness yet — you stare down the jury. 

“Mr. Hwang, earlier you stated that the deliverables were never received, correct?” 

The witness nods. “Yes, that’s correct.” 

You hold up Exhibit C — the one Jay flagged last night at 1:00 a.m. 

“And yet this invoice,” you continue, voice steady, “signed by your assistant, is dated three days after you claimed the project was terminated.” 

You hear the quiet inhale from opposing counsel. You press forward. “So either the project wasn’t terminated when you claimed, or this invoice was falsified. Which is it?” 

The witness flounders. You don’t smile — you don’t need to. Jay watches silently, his arms folded. You feel his attention on you, steady and quiet.  

The judge clears his throat. “Witness, please answer the question.” 

“I—I need to check the— I didn’t personally—” 

You tilt your head. “You testified under oath that you reviewed these documents yourself. Are you retracting that statement now?” 

Dead silence. 

Jay raises one brow very slightly, the courtroom version of a smirk. 

After the intense session, you’re walking out side by side, the adrenaline still buzzing in your bloodstream. Jay doesn’t say anything at first. Just holds the door for you. 

Then, “You timed that flip of the exhibit perfectly.” 

You glance at him. “You set it up.” 

His lips twitch. “We don’t miss.” 

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. 

“I still can’t believe he said he didn’t actually think that’d work. He lied—on the stand.” 

Jay shrugs. “People lie better when they think they’re smarter than the room. We just made sure he realized he wasn’t.” 

You walk down the courthouse steps, quiet for a moment. 

“You always trust me with those moments?” you ask, not looking at him. 

“I wouldn’t give them to you if I didn’t.” 

And that’s that. You don’t say anything else. But the weight of his words stays with you the rest of the day. 

Its an internal team meeting. A full room — associates, interns, one senior partner (Mr. Cho), and Jay. You’re presenting a quick summary of contract gaps in a client’s case. It's technical, but solid. 

Until Mr. Cho cuts you off. 

“You’ve missed a key clause,” he snaps. “Section 14 clearly overrides the amendment. This isn’t acceptable.” 

Your hand freezes over the page you were highlighting. Heat floods your ears. You’re sure of your read — you double-checked that clause an hour ago. 

Before your voice even finishes forming the sentence— 

“She didn’t miss anything.” 

Jay’s voice slices through the table like ice. 

Everyone turns. 

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t even look at Mr. Cho directly at first — just flips the page of his copy with quiet precision. 

Then, still without looking up:  “Page 9, last line of the amendment. It states that the override applies only to previously executed supplier agreements. This case involves a third-party addendum—different category.” 

Jay glances up now. Eyes locked on Mr. Cho. 

“So maybe check your notes before making assumptions.” 

The room stills. 

Mr. Cho clears his throat. “...Right. My mistake.” 

Jay turns the page again, like he didn’t just defuse a bomb with a single sentence. You sit in stunned silence. No one says a word for the rest of your summary. But suddenly, everyone listens. 

You find Jay near the elevators, loosening his tie with one hand, the other scrolling through his phone. 

“Hey,” you say. 

He looks up. His expression softens — just slightly. “Hm?” 

“Back there. Thanks. You didn’t have to.” 

Jay shrugs. “Wasn’t going to let him walk all over you.” 

You blink. “Even in front of half the department?” 

“Especially then.” 

You stare for a second too long. He avoids your gaze, brushing nonexistent dust from his cuff. 

“I was right though,” you say, voice lighter now. 

Jay smirks. “I know. That’s why I said it.” 

You tilt your head. “You sounded genuinely pissed.” 

He finally meets your eyes, expression unreadable. 

“You work too hard to be talked to like that.” 

And with that, he steps into the elevator. You don’t follow. Not yet. But you stand there for a second, staring at the closed doors. Because the way he said it? That wasn’t just defense. That was personal. 

Jay’s blazer is off. Tie loosened. You’ve kicked your shoes off and pulled your knees up onto the couch. 

“I can’t tell if this case is going to kill me or promote me,” you murmur, staring at the annotated brief in your lap. 

Jay doesn’t respond immediately. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk, long legs stretched, sipping from a paper cup you brought him earlier. 

You glance up. “What?” 

He tilts his head. “You’re still here.” 

You blink. “So are you.” 

“Yeah, but I live in this office. You… don’t.” 

You shrug. “I didn’t want to leave.” 

A beat.  And then, “I don’t think I’ve ever said that about work before.” 

Jay sets the cup down. Crosses his arms, but not in that guarded way. It’s looser now. More tired. More real. 

“You’ve changed a lot since you started,” he says. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’ve stopped needing people to like you.” 

You smile, small. “Is that a compliment?” 

“It is.” 

He’s watching you now. Closely. But gently. You shift your weight. Something softer rests between you now, under the silence. Jay speaks again, quieter. 

“You make this place feel… less heavy.” 

You stare at him. Not because it was romantic. But because it wasn’t. Not quite. Just honest. 

You try to joke it off. “Don’t go soft on me now, Park.” 

“I’m not,” he says. Still calm. Still watching. “I’m just saying… I notice.” 

And it’s not the words. It’s the way he says it. Like it cost him something to admit it. Like he's saying: You’ve gotten under my skin and I don’t know when it happened. 

You look away, suddenly too aware of how small the space between you feels. How warm. 

“You always talk this much when you’re tired?” you murmur his dialog. 

Jay leans forward slightly. 

“Only when it’s you.” 

The silence between you tightens. You don’t move. Neither does he. Not yet. But you both feel it — the line between what was and what’s about to be. Fragile. Warm. One breath from breaking. And when you leave his office that night — not touching, not saying anything else — your heart won’t stop replaying the way he said your name. 

Soft. Sure. Different. 

Another case. Another day. Another late night spent in his office.  

The case is over. You won. The pressure’s gone, but neither of you has left yet. The lights are low. The silence is full. 

You’re sitting on the edge of his desk this time, going through the last of the papers. Jay’s on the couch, jacket off, shirt sleeves pushed up, hands steepled under his chin. You slide the final document into the folder and exhale, a quiet, tired breath. “That’s everything.” 

Jay nods. “You should go home.” 

“You too.” 

But neither of you moves. The quiet stretches.You glance up and find him already looking at you. Not the sharp, analytical way he used to. This gaze is softer. Still. Like he's memorizing something. 

“You look different when you’re not thinking,” he says quietly. 

You let out a breath of a laugh. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me intense.” 

He smiles faintly. “It’s not a bad thing.” 

You look down at your hands. Then back up. 

“What is this?” 

Jay doesn’t pretend not to understand. Instead, he rises slowly and walks over until he’s standing in front of you — close enough to touch, but he doesn’t. 

He just says, low, “I think it’s the part where I stop pretending it’s nothing.” 

Your breath catches. 

Neither of you moves. And then — carefully, like asking a question he already knows the answer to — Jay lifts a hand to your face. Fingers just barely brushing your cheek. 

He waits. You don’t speak. Don’t nod. You just lean in — slow, sure — and meet him there. 

The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s quiet. Steady. It doesn’t explode. It lands — like a truth finally spoken. 

His hand slides to the back of your neck, grounding. Yours curls lightly at his shirt collar, anchoring. When you finally pull back, it’s only by an inch. Still close. Still breathing the same air. Neither of you speaks. You don’t have to. Because in the quiet, you both know: It’s not the beginning of something. It’s the moment where you finally admit—it already began. 

The next morning. You walk into the office. Early. Like always. Only now, you kissed your boss last night. And that changes... something. You enter the office kitchen, still a little sleep-fogged. You don’t expect him to be there. But he is. 

Jay’s already making his coffee. Hair slightly damp. Tie perfect. Posture a little too straight. 

He sees you. 

Freezes. 

Just a second. 

“Morning,” you say, casual. Light. 

“Morning,” he echoes—too fast. 

You walk over to the counter beside him. He shifts slightly, like you just stepped too close, even though you’ve stood like this a hundred times before. 

The silence stretches. He stirs his coffee five times. 

You count. 

“You good?” you ask, side-glancing him. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Why?” 

You shrug. “You’re just… being weird.” 

Jay blinks. “I’m not.” 

You tilt your head. “You stirred your coffee like it’s a court transcript.” 

“I always do that.” 

“You never do that.” 

Another beat. Then, very quietly: 

“…It’s been less than twelve hours since we kissed. Give me five minutes to recalibrate.” 

You blink. Then smile. 

He glares at his coffee like it personally betrayed him. 

“I’m not usually the awkward one,” he mutters. 

“No,” you agree, picking up your mug. “You’re really not.” 

You nudge your shoulder gently against his. And just like that—he exhales. His stance relaxes. Jay turns to you again, softer now. More himself. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m good.” 

He nods once. “Then we’re good.” 

And just like that, you are. 

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t lean in. Doesn’t flirt. But later, when he passes your desk, he places your favorite highlighter on top of your notes. Just like always. 

But this time, he says:  “Let me know if you need help. With anything.” 

His voice is the same. 

But you hear what’s underneath it now. 

A few days later. Right before a big client meeting. Jay’s talking through a last-minute detail. He’s walking through the final talking points. 

“No matter how they spin Clause 12, it’s still a breach. We don’t give them that—” 

You cut him off, stepping forward with a soft, “Hold still.” 

He blinks. “What—?” 

You’re already reaching up, fingers brushing his chest as you tug at the knot of his tie, smooth it flat, center it just right. Your hands move without hesitation, like muscle memory. 

Jay watches you, his voice fading into quiet. When you glance up, he’s looking at you in that way again — the way he only started looking at you after that night. Your fingers pause on the fabric. 

“You’d think someone as precise as you would know how to tie one straight,” you murmur, teasing. 

Jay’s voice is low. Warm.  “I was distracted.” 

You smile without thinking. “By what?” 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Because then — casually, almost absentmindedly — his hand lifts to your jaw. Light, certain. And he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, most matter-of-fact kiss you’ve ever had. 

Like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like this is just another part of getting ready. 

He pulls back just enough to whisper: 

“Thanks.” 

You’re still half breathless. “For fixing your tie?” 

“For staying.” 

And then — like it’s nothing, like it’s everything — he turns, straightens his cuffs, and walks toward the door. 

“Coming?” he calls over his shoulder. 

You touch your lips once, still smiling.“Yeah.” And follow. 

You hand the junior associate a file with a smile. “Don’t screw it up this time.” 

He grins. “Can’t promise, but if I do, I’ll just say you trained me.” 

You laugh. “Bold of you to assume I’d admit to that.” 

Jay approaches then, silently. The younger associate gives him a polite nod and scurries off with suspicious speed. You turn, still smiling, but Jay’s expression makes the edges of it flicker. He doesn’t speak. Just… looks at you. 

You tilt your head. “What?” 

“Who was that?” 

You blink. “Jun from M&A.” 

Jay’s voice is flat. “You seemed close.” 

You narrow your eyes. “We’re not. He’s just new.” 

“Mm.” 

You raise a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Jay doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushes his glasses up with one finger — slower than usual. Too composed. 

“That the same guy who left you that iced coffee last week?” 

You pause. “Yes. So?” 

Jay’s jaw flexes. 

You take a step closer, arms crossed. “Oh my god. Are you jealous?” 

Jay holds your gaze. “No.” 

“Jay—” 

“I’m not jealous,” he says again, perfectly calm. “I’m just observant. And territorial.” 

You blink. “That’s— That’s literally the definition of jealous.” 

He shrugs. “Fine. Then yes. I’m jealous.” 

You stare at him. He stares back. And then his voice drops, quieter. Just for you. 

“Because he gets to talk to you like that in the open. I don’t.” 

The fire behind his eyes isn’t rage — it’s restraint. The kind that only happens when someone wants something too much to risk mishandling it. You move a little closer, dropping your voice to match his. 

“You could. If you wanted to.” 

He doesn’t answer. 

He just looks at you for a long, long second. Then — without a word — he tugs you gently by the wrist into a quiet hallway just out of view. Presses you against the wall with nothing but intention in his eyes. 

“I want to.” 

And when he kisses you this time? It’s not soft. It’s not patient. It’s the kind of kiss that says: 

You’re mine, and I’m not saying it out loud yet, but I will. Soon. 

♡ જ⁀➴ Click here to see Jay and reader fight, ignore each other for eleven days, and finally make up — all in the Overruled universe!

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies (lmk if u wanna be added!)

A/N: OK GUYS. HEAR ME OUT. im literally soooo exhausted im even surprised i was able to get this out. this is not at all my best work. i wanted to write more for this. this was supposed to be a 10k plus words fic but......... i just wanted this to be out asap cause its sunday and ik i wont be able to write due to the busy week. im so sorry, i hope ill come back better because im literally on the verge of hitting writer's block. (ALSO I LEFT SOME EASTER EGGS IN THE FIC. ULL KNOW IF UVE READ MY PREVIOUS WORK.)

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

the art & science of parenting 101 ─ p. js

↳ summary ── the art & science of parenting 101 (PSY1009): 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 baby—aka 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 park—the last person you'd trust to raise, well, anything. you’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. now, you’re 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! 

↳ pairing ── jay park x y/n [ft. enha members!]

↳ genre ── e2l!au, college!au, (fake)parenting!au, he-fell-first, she-fell-harder type beat lolz || fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 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...]

↳ 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! there’s SO much tension . but in a cute awkward crush way

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg it’s finally done. tell me why it took me so long to finish, i promise i didn’t mean to but life’s been busier lately :’) 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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Welcome to PSY1009, The Art & Science of Parenting 101! Throughout the next 12 weeks, we’re going to dive deep into the wondrous world of parenting—dirty diapers and all. To kick off our course, we’re 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 pressure—there are no right or wrong answers (maybe only judgements from your future robot offspring)!

Q1 – 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? 

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 essential—I 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.”

Q2 – What do you expect to learn and gain out of this co-parenting experience?  

Y/N's Submission [8:29AM, September 18th]:  

"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.” 

✭・.・✫

Satisfied with your answers, you click 'submit' and close your laptop, feeling a wave of satisfaction as you settle into your seat—center of the second row—as you wait for the 9AM lecture to start.  

It's 8:30AM.  

You're the only one in the room.  

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 row—center 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!  

It's clear you've come prepared. Plus, this class isn't just any ordinary elective—it'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 crème de la crème of psychology students. The best of the best. The elite. The— 

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 one—where all questionable, semi-clean laundry lives). 

He strolls past you—of course—and plops down right in front of you.

Front row.  

Try-hard. 

"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." 

"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."  

Jay's grin only widens to your despair. "Contrary to your deeply misinformed opinion, Professor Kim actually loves me. I'm a great student."  

“I don’t believe it,” you deadpan back. “You never turn your assignments in on time, and quite frankly, I'm surprised you were even able to find this classroom."  

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?"  

You mumble something under your breath about ‘talent for procrastination’ 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.  

"Good morning, class! I'm so happy to see so many familiar faces."  

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 you’re one of her biggest fans—the countless early mornings you've spent waiting at your computer, finger hovering over the ‘enroll’ 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 Park—Jay Freaking Park—somehow always ends up in the same classes. Every. Single. Time. It’s like a curse.  

A loud, messy, procrastinating curse…

…that just so happens to have a side profile almost as annoyingly good that it only pisses you off more. 

You wonder if he’s actually here to learn or if he’s just here to spite you. Because, honestly, the amount of classes you’ve shared with him is no longer a coincidence. Five semesters in a row? Suspicious. 

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 Kim—in a diplomatic twist that made zero sense to you—deemed you both 'equally qualified.' So, the job went to the third best candidate instead. Tough luck.  

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 project—which, in hindsight, you should really be paying attention to. You should be. But something so ridiculous, so blood-boiling, pulls your attention elsewhere.  

Jay's desk is completely...empty. 

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 hangout—probably expecting his robot baby to parent itself while he simply supervises.  

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.  

"Y/N and Jay." 

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."  

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 are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow (and unfortunately) still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

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.' 

"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.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this 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.  

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.  

"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?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. 

"I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s 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?" 

"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." 

"See, that’s 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.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two. And you?  

You're screwed.

Q1 – 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? 

Jay’s Submission [10:09AM, September 18th]: 

"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." 

Q2 – What do you expect to learn and gain from this experience? 

Jay's Submission [10:12AM, September 18th]:  

"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 situations—because 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 :)" 

✭・.・✫

Jay's screwed.  

Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed. 

He was already kinda skeptical he’d make it past his 40s if he kept living the way he does, but now? Now, he’s not even sure he’ll survive the next 24 hours. Why? Well, today’s the first official meeting with you—as co-parents—at the campus coffee shop at 12PM sharp. 

It's 12:17PM.  

He's late.  

Seventeen whole minutes late. To your meeting. And you're basically the human embodiment of an atomic clock. You’re probably sitting there, checking your watch every few seconds, calculating his absence down to the millisecond. Jay can practically feel the murderous vibes you’re radiating from halfway across campus.  

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.   

As the café 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. 

There's no point. Knowing you, you'd probably hunt him down for sport.  

With a sigh, Jay pushes open the door to the café, bracing himself for impact.  

And there you are. Exactly how he imagined.  

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.  

When Jay finally reaches your table—17 minutes and 46 seconds late (but who's counting)—you look up, meeting his gaze with a look that's somewhere between not surprised but definitely not impressed. 

"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."  

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."  

"Yeah? Tell that to our future robot baby when you're seventeen minutes late to feed it and its batteries die."  

"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!"  

"Future robot baby," you peer your eyes at him from above your laptop. "Anyways, did you read the guidelines?"  

Jay rubs the back of his neck as he leans back into his chair. "Uh, define 'read'."  

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 swings—the whole shebang. We're going to have to approach this strategically."  

"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 emotionally—that'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?"  

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. 

"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, consistency—"  

"—and having a little fun," Jay cuts in, mouth quirked with mischief. "I mean, what's parenting without some chaos?"  

"Chaos," you mutter, narrowing your eyes at him, "is what you bring into my life on a daily basis."  

"Yeah, and yet you secretly love it," Jay shoots back, leaning in to meet you, as if daring you to disagree.  

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.  

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.  

Finally, you sigh, "This isn't a joke, Jay. This is 40% of our grade."  

"And I'm 100% ready!" Jay shoots back with a wink, to which you respond with a full-body eye roll.  

"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." 

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? 

Or so he thinks. Jay definitely needs to get better at this whole 'reading your expressions' thing.  

"Huh," you murmur to yourself, fingers tapping against the table. "That's...not the worst idea you've ever had."  

Jay feels elated. Validation? From you? Phew, this means his life is spared. Thank god.  

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.  

"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."  

"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?"  

You nod, pushing your laptop aside to make space for a sheet of paper you've already prepared—because 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.  

"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"  

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.  

"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."  

Your pen freezes mid-air, hovering like you're considering whether to throw it at his face or not.  

"Naps? Non-negotiable? For someone who wakes up at 11AM? We're raising a child, Jay, this requires commitment!"  

Jay raises a calm eyebrow. "Hey, sleep is very important for brain function! You wouldn't want me underperforming as a parent, right?"  

Your eye twitches. "No, Jay. That's already my biggest fear."  

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.  

Finally, you sigh, accepting your fate and jotting down ‘Jay’s naps: apparently crucial for survival’ in your notes with a frown drawn next to it, while Jay gives you an approving nod from across the table. 

"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.  

"So," you continue, starting with that no-nonsense tone that's clearly meant to be serious—but to Jay, there's something almost charming about how strict you are. "I wake up at 6."  

Jay's brain immediately short-circuits. Forget charming.

You’re downright crazy. 

"6? As in AM? On purpose?"  

You blink back at him, as if he's the one saying something ridiculous.

"Yes, Jay. On purpose."  

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?  

When he doesn't respond—still in pure shock—you 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 café you two are in, "and then—"  

"Wait, wait," Jay holds up a hand, needing a mental pause button. "You work here?"  

"Yeah," you nod, like it's the most casual thing ever. "Why, is that surprising?"  

Jay squints at you. He's never considered the idea of you pulling espresso shots and dealing with caffeine-deprived college students—he'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 time—too much exposure to coffee fumes. Or, more likely (and evidently), you're just an insanely busy person.  

He likes the coffee fumes theory better.  

"I guess not," he admits, then surprises even himself by adding, "that's kind of impressive, though."  

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."  

It's nothing big—no, not at all—but Jay feels a weird sense of accomplishment at your reaction. Better than nothing. 

He leans in over the table, all faux-innocence—eyebrows raises, large puppy eyes and all.

"Does this mean you can get me a free coffee?"  

You lean in too, mirroring him, and he's not sure why his heart skips a beat at the close proximity. 

"Yeah...no. Nice try."  

Jay groans, throwing himself back in his chair dramatically. Worth a shot.  

"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."  

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.  

"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.  

You give him a look that almost convinces Jay himself that he's the crazy one here.

"Yes, Jay. I am."  

"Wow, okay. So why did you even take this class? What happened to being committed? You don't even have time to breathe."  

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%?  

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. 

"Do you even, like, sleep? Or is that optional for you?"  

"Sleep is for the weak," you shoot him an amused glance, half-joking, half-serious.

Jay raises an eyebrow. "Good to know I'm weak, then."  

You stifle a laugh, but Jay catches the brief twitch of your lips before you quickly compose yourself. He’s known you for so long, and yet, this might be the first time he’s seen even a hint of your guard slipping. It’s subtle, barely there, but he notices. And for some reason, it makes him smile. You’re always so put together, so serious—but this small crack in your armor? Jay can’t help but appreciate it.  

Maybe, just maybe, he could get you to soften up more if he tried hard enough.

And yeah, he’s definitely going to try. 

But before he can try to tease you more, you snap back into business mode, instantly scribbling down more notes.

"Alright, so let’s just split the baby's care based on my work schedule and your...nap schedule, apparently."  

Jay leans back in his chair, catching that flicker of amusement in your voice—despite the serious look on your face—and he fights the urge to push a little more. There's something about that side of you—not the one behind the cold wall you've built of color-coded schedules and deadlines—that he wants to see more of. Somehow.  

"Works for me,” he shrugs and grins at you, “but if the baby's anything like me, it'll nap a lot. You might have it easy."

"And if it’s anything like me,” you mutter, barely pausing, “then it’ll easily get annoyed by you.”

Jay catches the ghost of a smile on your face, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it—which he definitely is. It’s enough to keep him intrigued. He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand like he’s watching some fascinating show. 

You don’t notice him staring—or maybe you do, but you’re too busy pretending you don’t. Either way, there’s a small, almost imperceptible shift in your body language that Jay senses. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and you don’t look like you’re mentally calculating how many minutes you have left before you can escape this meeting.

Jay decides to take advantage of the moment. “So…do you think our robot baby is also going to be a superhuman genius? Like in a you way?” 

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. “Definitely, but also part crazy. Like in a you way.” 

Jay chuckles, mentally declaring this conversation a victory. Your laugh fades but for a split second, he catches you studying his face like you’re trying to figure out what his deal is. And he doesn’t mind it at all—because, for once, you’re 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. 

Jay frowns as he watches as you turn towards the coffee bar, not ready for this conversation to end just yet.  

"Wait, where are you going?" he blurts out, sounding more tragic than intended. 

You pause, turning back with a look that sends his pulse tripping.

"Do you want a free coffee or not?"  

The following Monday, at exactly 9:55AM, you and Jay are handed your robot baby—Jisoo, as Jay somehow convinces you to name it after his favorite celebrity—at the end of your class.  

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. 

"Admit it, Jisoo has star quality," Jay beams, proudly looking down at the robotic baby in the baby carrier that came with her.  

You look from Jisoo to Jay, then back to Jisoo, unimpressed. "It's a robot, Jay. Not your bias."  

"Bias or not, she deserves only the best," Jay just shrugs, unbothered.

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.  

There's a beat of silence as you both stare down at it, unsure of what to do next.  

"It's kind of creepy, right?" you finally mutter, breaking the knowing silence between you two.  

Jay snorts. "Not even 'kind of.' A lot."

He leans in to inspect it, his brows furrowed, "So, does it just…sit there?”  

"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," you huff, already pulling out the meticulously detailed notes you took during class.

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."  

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. 

"What the—" Jay instinctively jumps back like Jisoo is a grenade on her last few seconds.

"Why's it doing that? What did you do?"  

"I didn’t 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!"  

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?  

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.  

"Hold her!" You quickly thrust her into Jay's arms, a horrified expression written all over his face. "You deal with it."  

"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?"  

"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.  

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. 

"Uh, shh, little buddy, it's okay...Should I, like, burp it? Sing to it?"  

“Sing?” You give him a look like he’s completely lost it, but Jay’s already humming off-key under his breath. 

The baby, predictably, continues screeching. 

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.

“Does it have an off switch?” he asks, glancing at you like you've parented a robot baby before. 

You continue to frantically flip through your notes, pages rustling in a blur. “No, Jay! We can’t just turn off our baby!” 

“Well, I don’t know, Y/N, but I’m pretty sure babies aren’t supposed to sound like they’re summoning a demon!” Jay retorts, his tone climbing the ladder of panic. "Maybe she's hungry or something."  

“It can’t be hungry, it's not supposed to be!" You’re still too busy scanning your notes as you shake your head in disagreement.

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. 

“Sometimes you can’t schedule everything, Y/N. Maybe it just needs a bottle, like, right now.” 

The idea frustrates you. “But it’s not time yet. If we feed it off-schedule, it’ll mess everything up for the day.” 

The baby’s cries reach a shrill pitch, like it’s protesting your protest. Jay looks at you, then back at the crying baby, then back at you again. 

“I think it’s already messed up, so maybe we just... feed it?” he says, half-grinning, half-exasperated. 

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.  

“Fine,” you mutter, grabbing the bottle from the supply bag. “But if this throws off the whole schedule, it’s your fault.” 

Jay grins, but there’s something softer in his expression behind it as he watches you struggle with the bottle...and your need for control.

“Deal.” 

You hand the bottle to him, and he places the nipple into the baby’s 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 who’s now peacefully drinking. 

You let out a small gasp of relief and turn your head up to look at Jay, who's widened eyes meet yours.  

Jay lets out a held breath. “Well. That was traumatic.” 

You roll your eyes, though there’s a slight twitch at the corner of your lips as you mutter, “I think I just lost three years of my life."  

Jay watches as you carefully take Jisoo from his arms and place her back into the carrier, making sure everything is in order. He’s still catching his breath, but he glances at you—relaxed, for once, after the panic—and it makes him feel something weird. He almost laughs. 

“I dunno,” he says, a little teasingly. “I think we handled that pretty well.” 

“Great, now just five weeks and six days of this left." You give him a look, but there’s a tiny, fleeting smile this time. "I just don't understand why it was crying. It's not supposed to need food until—"  

Jay cuts you off with a chuckle. “Y/N, it’s a baby. Real ones don’t run on algorithms. They just... cry when they need something. Like this little gal. I mean, you can't exactly schedule crying, right?” 

The silence stretches for a moment as you watch him, realization dawning a little slower than you’d like to admit. “I guess,” you mutter reluctantly, earning yourself a content-looking Jay.  

"Look at us—team effort," Jay says, as he beams a smile to you before glancing at Jisoo. "We're naturals at this whole parenting thing."  

"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.  

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?"  

You scoff, but the look on your face proves there's no bite to it—Jay knows there's no bite to it.  

Maybe, just maybe, he has a point.  

You'd never admit it to him, though. 

Not yet.  

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 routine—dropping off and picking up Jisoo like two semi-functional adults who almost know what they’re doing. You still wouldn’t call it 'seamless', as Jay himself struggled with having a consistent schedule for once in his life, but at least you’ve gotten through the weeks without major incidents or spontaneous combustion. So far.

That doesn't mean you'll admit to anyone—least of all yourself—that 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.  

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.  

Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely.  

It's Sunday, and miraculously, you've managed to give yourself the evening off. No café 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?  

Spend it with Jay. Parenting. Together. In his apartment.  

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.  

Teamwork, she called it.  

You like to call it pure suffering.  

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 imagining—frat house, landfill, or some unholy combination of both—you're fully prepared to turn around and run for the hills.  

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever horrors await behind the door, and knock three times.  

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.  

"Hey," he greets you with a lazy grin, eyes half-lidded like he's still half-asleep.  

It's 6PM.  

You stare at him, deadpan.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck."  

Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow.

"You should see the truck."  

Before you can fire back with something equally sarcastic, you catch a glimpse of his apartment over his shoulder, and—you blink, confused. Wait. Wait.  

Well this can't be right.  

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.  

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. Now you're starting to feel ashamed.  

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?"  

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." 

"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."  

You step inside cautiously, like you're waiting for something to jump out at you—maybe a camera with someone saying 'You've been pranked, this isn't Jay's actual apartment!'  

But nope. His apartment is just...nice. It smells like eucalyptus and citrus, for crying out loud.  

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.  

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 from the doorway. You find yourself slowly walking closer to get a closer look: landscapes, city stresses, a few candid shots of people—all 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?" 

"Oh," he scratches the back of his neck, looking almost shy. "Yeah. I do some photography sometimes. Just a hobby."  

You blink up at him. Jay Park? A photographer? This was not on your Jay Park Bingo card. 

"Huh," you say, before realizing how dumb you sound. "I didn't know you were into that."  

"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, which—ugh, okay fine—makes you feel just the tiniest bit flustered. Not that you'll admit it.  

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow. "And here I thought your only hobbies were napping and showing up late." 

"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." 

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 screen—full of layers, sliders, and all sorts of professional-looking tools that immediately make your head hurt. Jay scrolls through the images, and honestly?

They’re good. Really good. Like, if you didn’t know better, you’d think some of them could be in a magazine. And not the kind of magazine you got your Bieber Fever posters in.  

"Wow," you say, nodding, genuinely impressed. "That’s… actually really cool." 

Jay freezes, his head snapping toward you with a look of disbelief. He stares at you, eyes narrowing like you’ve just broken some unspoken rule.

"It's been ten seconds...you just gave me an actual compliment without a sarcastic follow-up."  

You let out a small giggle, "Geez, you always make me sound like some soulless witch or something."  

"I mean… soulless witch might be a bit much. But, like… emotionally unavailable overlord? Hmm, maybe," Jay grins, leaning back in mock thought.

You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, the sound catching Jay off guard. He looks at you, wide-eyed, like he’s just witnessed a rare phenomenon. And maybe he has—because even you can’t remember the last time you laughed this freely.

"Wow. I should annoy you more often," Jay smirks, clearly way too satisfied with himself. You’re 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. 

You try to gather yourself, praying your voice doesn’t betray you.

"Don’t push your luck, Park," you manage, but the teasing edge in your voice is softer than usual—way softer. And, of course, Jay knows it. You know it. You’re still smiling, and—unfortunately for you—so is he. 

Jay suddenly clears his throat as he shifts in his seat, "So...should we order like a pizza or something? Are you hungry?"  

And because lately the universe apparently has a personal vendetta against you, your stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a sound—one that resembles between a whale’s mating call and a frog being strangled. 

Jay stifles a laugh, trying to act casual but failing miserably, "Okay… pizza it is." 

“Shut up,” you mutter, giving him a playful shove that’s just enough to make him fall back into the couch cushions. 

"No, you tell your stomach to shut up," Jay snickers, grabbing his phone to place the order. 

You’re about to fire back with something—anything—but a soft wail interrupts you from the baby carrier. 

"Someone needs attention," you say, scooping Jisoo up and cradling her in your arms. “It’s about time for her to eat anyway.” 

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.

“While you feed her, I’ll take care of the pizza. I’m guessing you’re more of a plain cheese type, huh?” 

You freeze for a second, then whip your head around to give him a mock-offended look.

“First, you think I’m a soulless witch, and now boring? I at least add pepperoni and sausage. Give me some credit.” 

"Okay, okay, noted," Jay lifts his hands up in surrender, "So adventurous. I'll remember that next time you call me irresponsible."  

You roll your eyes at him as you adjust Jisoo in your arms, holding the bottle steady at her mouth. It’s quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft hum of your fake baby and Jay tapping on his phone. 

Suddenly Jay puts his phone down, turning to you with an unreadable expression. “You’re really serious about this whole parenting thing, huh?” 

You blink, still rocking Jisoo in your arms.  You're thrown off by the sudden shift and sincerity in his tone.  

“Well… yeah. I think it’s important, you know? Responsibility, structure… that’s what makes people feel safe. Especially kids. They need to know they’re taken care of.” 

Jay’s expression shifts as he listens, a more thoughtful look settling on his face.

“You're a strong believer of that, aren't you? Structure and schedules and all that?"  

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 before—at 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.  

“I 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.” 

Jay raises an eyebrow, leaning forward a little in his seat.

“But didn’t that feel, I don’t know... suffocating? Like, what if things don’t go according to plan? You can’t control everything.” 

Your first instinct is to scoff, but something stops you. It's a valid question, and for some reason, you don’t feel the need to throw up your usual defenses for once. That's new.  

“Maybe sometimes,” you admit. “But I don’t know any other way. It just feels like if you’re not prepared, things fall apart. And that’s the worst feeling—like watching everything crumble because you weren’t ready for it.” 

Jay is quiet, studying you with an intensity that feels new. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced with something more serious.

“Yeah, I get that. I didn’t have a lot of structure growing up. Parents were kinda… there, but not really. I think that’s why I don’t plan much. Life happens whether you’re ready or not.” 

You blink as you sit back in your seat, absorbing his words. It’s the first time you’ve really thought about Jay outside of his 'laid-back' image of him you've had in your head, and honestly, you’re surprised by how heavy his words feel. 

“But…you’re actually good with Jisoo,” you say, almost cautiously, unsure if you’re diving into uncharted territory. “You’ve been handling this project better than I thought you would.” 

Jay laughs softly, shaking his head as he looks at Jisoo in your arms.

“It’s just a robot baby, Y/N. No big deal if I mess up.” 

"It’s not just about the robot baby,” you counter, realizing you're saying more than you intended. “You actually care. You’re not graded on how well you change diapers or keep her entertained, but you’re still putting in effort. You’re trying. And that matters.” 

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 you—really looking at you—like 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.  

Then, with a suddenness that almost makes you jump, he leans over and nudges your arm lightly.

“Okay, Dr. Phil. Don't go getting all soft on me now."  

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 can’t help but circle back to how Jay had looked at you—serious, curious… something else. 

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. 

You let out a breath you didn’t 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. 

For someone who sure likes to plan everything out, you definitely weren’t prepared for Jay Park—and how he's quickly becoming the exception to every rule you've ever made. 

✭・.・✫

The first thing that jars you awake is a piercing scream—Jisoo'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.  

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.  

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.  

And then...that brings us to the third thing. A sound from the other end of the couch—Jay'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.  

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?  

You sit up from your spot, still half-asleep, and follow the foul scent in horror until you realize the source.  

Jisoo.  

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 it’s 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 Jisoo’s final boss form—peak realism unlocked—solely just to spite you and your nostrils.

While you’re 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. 

You grab the throw pillow that's wedged under you and chuck in right at his face.  

"Jay!" You're still half-asleep, so your voice comes out like a strangled whisper, somewhere between pleading and passive-aggressive murder.  

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. 

"What happened?" You raise a finger to the screaming, stinky, betrayal-machine between you two. "That happened, Jay. Jisoo happened."  

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.  

"I don't know!" You squawk, equally traumatized. "She's never done this before—I didn't even know she could!"  

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?"  

You shoot him a glare as you get up from the couch and start looking for the baby bag.

"We're changing her, Jay."  

"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." 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.  

"What?" Jay glares at you, though a look of amusement tugs at his lips. "You think this is funny?"  

"No," you say, barely stifling your giggles. "It's just—you're holding her like she's about to explode."  

Jay gives you a doubtful look, "Y/N, I'm not convinced she's not about to explode."  

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."  

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.  

"Oh my god," he breathes. "This is it. This is how I die."  

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.  

“Oh god.” 

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 doesn’t just waft up—it attacks. You’re pretty sure you lost at least another three years off your life from one breath alone. 

"That's not legal," Jay chokes as he flings himself back at the sight, dropping Jisoo’s little toes in the process, flailing around as if the air itself betrayed him. "There's no way that's legal." 

You freeze in sheer horror, staring at the scene before you: Jisoo’s 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.

“No, no, no, this isn’t normal. This is—this is a crime scene! This can’t be right.” 

“Jay,” your voice is muffled as a hand tries to cover both your nose and mouth from the contaminated air, “Jay, focus!” 

Jay looks at you from across the living room, wide-eyed and pale, like a deer caught in headlights.

“You expect me to—in this economy—” 

“Grab. The. Wipes.”

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 you’re his shield. 

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to help?”

“I am helping,” Jay protests weakly, waving the pack of wipes like they’re a magic wand that might save you both.

You roll your eyes and turn back to Jisoo, “Okay, grab her legs again. I’ll wipe.” 

His eyes watch in horror as he reaches over you to take hold of the robot’s feet. With a deep breath, you start furiously scrubbing Jisoo’s little body, trying your best to breathe as minimally as possible, sticking your hand out towards Jay whenever you need a new wipe. 

“I signed up for fake parenting, not surviving a biohazard. This isn’t bonding; this is trauma,” Jay incoherently mumbles, placing a wipe in your hand. 

"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.  

"Oh, so Professor Kim is forcing us to bond over mutual suffering? Very sweet," Jay deadpans as he hands you another wipe. 

"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."  

Finally, after you definitely lost three years of your life, the horror show is over. Jisoo is cleaned, diapered, and—somehow—actually looks peaceful for once. Like she didn't just commit a crime against humanity. 

Jay exhales, looking at her with a newfound joy. "Well. She's definitely...less terrifying when she's not screaming and emitting toxic fumes."  

You plop yourself on the couch and cradle Jisoo like she's a tiny, innocent angel instead of the cause of your collective suffering.

“I’m genuinely afraid to know what they put in her system for this to happen.” 

Jay collapses onto the couch beside you, visibly relieved, "Whatever it was, we did it. We survived. We did that." 

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."  

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 laughing—a 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 ordeal—how ridiculous, how hilariously awful it was—that just makes it impossible to not laugh.  

"Now do you think we make a pretty good team?" Jay grins, nudging your shoulder with his.   

You roll your eyes at him, "I don't know...depends."  

Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"  

"Depends on whether you can make it through the rest of the project without crying again," you quip, lips twitching into an amused grin.  

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."  

"Sure, Jay," you deadpan, shaking your head.  

"Besides," he continues, leaning back smugly, "I did all the heavy lifting. Literally. I held the live grenade."  

You snort, glancing down at Jisoo in your arms before handing her off to Jay, "You're unbelievable."  

"And you're stuck with me, partner," he grins back, rocking Jisoo in his arms. "You too, Jisoo." 

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 realize…maybe Jay Park isn’t the complete disaster you thought he was. 

"Yeah," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I really am stuck with you."  

And for the first time since this ridiculous project started, you don't mind that as much as you thought you would.  

Jay would like to make a few things clear. 

First of all, none of this is his fault. 

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. 

Jay [11:32 AM]: “i swear it’s not my fault, but my friend, jake, his entire load of laundry is now the color of strawberry milk. and apparently i’m the only one that can help him. can i drop jisoo off with you for like… an hour? tops?” 

He stares at his phone, waiting for your response like you hold the key to his survival.

Because, in a way, you do. 

He hears Jisoo coo from her carrier, like even she knows how dire this situation is. Finally, his phone lights up with a buzz. 

Y/N [11:33 AM]: “i’m volunteering at a dog adoption event on campus, but sure, drop her off here :)” 

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.   

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. 

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. 

You're smack in the middle of a fenced playpen, laughing, surrounded by every breed of fluffy chaos imaginable and passersby cooing 'aww' at the sight. And what a sight it is.  

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 content—or maybe he's just not used to noticing how good you look when you're not glaring at him.  

"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. 

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—so confident, so caring, so...natural—catches him off guard.

Now, you're like some serene multitasking goddess in the middle of pure chaos.  

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?  

But...while he's here, staring in 'admiration', it suddenly hits him—you're not just good at taking care of Jisoo. You're good at taking care of everything.  

And that makes his heart do a weird flip.  

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.  

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.  

He’s 99% sure he audibly gulps. 

“Oh, Jay, you made it!” 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.  

“Uh, yeah—um, 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 pretty—uh…busy.”  

He curses himself. Busy? Really? 

“Oh, no biggie,” 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."  

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 you—like how you look so aggressively pretty right now. 

And it’s a little infuriating. 

"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?"  

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?"  

Jay huffs, feeling himself return just a little bit back to normal. “Listen, Jake’s a special case, okay? You can’t just leave him in that pink laundry disaster and expect him to survive.” 

"Right..," you laugh, rocking back and forth on your feet, your smile lingering as a comfortable silence falls between you.  

Maybe it's the way you're looking up at him, or the fact that a literal golden retriever is currently nuzzling 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.  

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.  

"Do you mind watching Jisoo—and, um, this puppy—for a sec?"  

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.  

"Sorry! They just need me real quick!" You say with a grateful smile as you hurry off.  

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. 

Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction.  

He looks down at his arms—one occupied by a carrier with a robot baby, the other holding a wriggly puppy.  

"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.  

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 have everything und— 

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 look—he really does—but the sound is too angelic to not. But right when he does look over, he immediately wishes he didn't. 

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. 

Jay’s 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 him—ever.

And suddenly, the longer you continue laughing with that guy, Jay feels something hot and uncomfortable bubbling up inside.  

Fine, it’s jealousy.  

Definitely jealousy.

He scowls at himself. Now he’s basically a bitter standing emoji, clinging to Jisoo and a puppy while glaring from afar. 

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.  

“You didn’t tell me that was Jay Park,” 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. “You said he was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around. You didn’t mention he’s a total cutie.” 

“He was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around,” 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."  

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.  

“Oh, so you totally like him,” Heeseung snickers from your other side, nudging you again.  

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.  "We're just—look, 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."  

“Right,” Heeseung chimes in, giving you a look that says he's clearly unconvinced. “Just saying, though—someone who doesn’t like you wouldn’t be staring at you like that, and looking at me like I just committed a first-degree crime just for breathing in your direction."  

You follow Heeseung’s gaze and, sure enough, you catch Jay trying to look casual while bouncing the puppy and acting like he totally didn’t just get caught. Your eyes meet, and he does a 180 so fast he nearly launches Jisoo into orbit. 

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?"  

"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.  

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.  

When you get back to him, Jay’s desperately trying to look natural—so, naturally, he’s scratching the puppy’s 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.  

“Looks like he likes you,” you say, trying to sound casual as you nod to the puppy, who's squirming excitedly under Jay's attention. 

“He’s adorable,” Jay replies, blushing faintly as he shifts the puppy around.

“So, uh, everything okay over there?” he asks, totally not imagining a deep, romantic conversation to explain your laughter. 

You’re 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.

“Oh! Yeah, they just… needed help with paperwork.” 

Jay’s expression hardens ever so slightly as he tries to imagine a world where paperwork could possibly be that funny.

“Cool, cool,” he nods stiffly, side-eyeing Heeseung in the distance who’s still chatting with Esther. 

"Well," Jay shifts awkwardly as clears his throat, "I should get going to Jake. He's probably in tears by now, honestly."  

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.  

"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!"  

Jay opens his mouth, fully ready to decline when he catches sight of your expression—those big, pleading eyes that make it impossible to say no. 

And that's it. He's doomed. Right then and there, Jay knows he's doomed.  

Is Jay currently surrounded by more puppies than he ever thought could physically exist in one place?

Yes. 

Does he think your puppy eyes are somehow cuter than all the puppies combined?

Annoyingly, also yes.  

And so, Jay would like to make some new things clear, for the record:  

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. He’ll explain the situation, which obviously couldn’t be helped. Hanging out with you? Totally justified. Perfectly valid.  

And second, well—Jay would like to clarify that it's official now. Whatever he was feeling before?

Yeah, definitely attraction.  

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.  

And that, in itself, is a shocking revelation. You're never bored. Your schedule is usually packed to the brim—between assignments, club meetings, work shifts, and impromptu Save the Puppies campaigns, there's hardly room for boredom. But today?  

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 café shifts. And apparently, you have no idea how to handle that.  

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.  

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.  

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.  

It's strange. The memory should be traumatic—okay, it is traumatic—but 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.  

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.  

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?  

You blink at Jay's contact on your phone, your thumb still hovering over his name.  

No. Bad idea.  

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.  

Besides, Jay's probably busy doing...whatever it is Jay does at 4PM on a Saturday. Napping, probably.  

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.  

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?  

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.  

Great. Now you have a new problem.  

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. 

You've officially lost it.  

I've officially lost it, you chant in your head as your thumb hovers dangerously close to Jay's name on your screen again.  

I've officially lost it, the words grow louder, taunting you, as you hover over the call button. 

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. 

And now, your heartbeat picks up with every ring. You can't decide what's worse—him 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 this madness alone. Maybe—

"Hello?"  

Your train of thought screeches to a halt.  

"Y/N? Are you there?"  

"I'm here!" You blurt out, your voice jumping two octaves higher than usual. Real smooth, Y/N.  

"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.  

You falter for a moment, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written there.

"No! Nothing's wrong! I just—uh–" Quick, think of something normal!

"I was wondering what you're up to."  

"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."  

The campus gallery. His photography.  

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.  

"Wait, really?" You ask, hoping the interest in your voice doesn't show too much.  

"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."  

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. It’s hard to reconcile the carefree, sarcastic guy you know with the thoughtful perspective he must have to capture the kinds of photos he does. 

"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."  

You hesitate, your mind racing. Go? Don't go? It's just a showcase. It's not like it means anything. Right?  

"I'll think about it," you manage, trying to sound nonchalant.  

"Cool." There's a smile in his voice again. "Let me know. I'll save you a front-row seat."  

"Front row seat? For a gallery?" You deadpan, rolling your eyes as if he can see if over the phone.  

"Hey, I'm just being a good host."  

"Hmmm," you smile to yourself again. "Maybe. We'll see."  

But your decision was made the second he suggested that you should come. 

It doesn't mean anything. Friends come support each other all the time, right? Wait—

Are you and Jay even friends? You shake your head, trying to dismiss the warmth starting to spread in your chest.  

It's just photography.

It's just Jay.

Nothing to overthink here.  

✭・.・✫

“Okay, Jisoo, in and out,” 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."  

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.  

Maybe you shouldn't even go in. It's basically the end of the event anyway—what are the odds he'd even notice you didn't show?

Slim. Probably. Right?  

It's not like you didn't have a valid excuse for your lateness. You did have to change Jisoo’s diaper before you left, and that was a whole thing. But let's be real. 

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).  

Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist.  

And then—because clearly, you love to torture yourself—you spent another thirty minutes pacing around your room trying to figure out why you cared so much in the first place.  

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 sweaty?  

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?  

You swallow hard, adjust your grip on your emotional support robot baby, and push the door open. 

And there he is.  

Center stage, right where he belongs—or 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.  

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. 

You can't help but wonder—what 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.  

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.  

But instead, your thoughts screech in a halt, jolting you out of your daydream.  

Abort mission. This was a terrible idea.  

Why did you come here? Why is your face hot? Can Jisoo smell fear?  

Before you can think of a single coherent reason to not turn around and bolt, Jay glances up. And he spots you.  

His eyes light up even more—if that's even physically possible. "Y/N?" He calls out, grinning widely.  

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.  

Fantastic. Just fantastic.  

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. 

Well, to be fair, you are fighting a war—against your own dumb feelings.  

"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.  

"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.  

"Yeah, well," you start, trying to sound nonchalant. "I figured, you know, project partners should support each other...teamwork and all that."  

Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to stifle a laugh, "Right. Teamwork. Totally."  

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 him—a 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.  

You suddenly feel a weird, warm pull in your chest. It’s one thing to see Jay cracking jokes and making sarcastic comments during late-night baby meltdowns. But this? This is a side of him you’ve never seen before—one that’s thoughtful, intentional, passionate. 

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until Jay speaks up, his voice softer now. “Do you like them?” 

You blink, startled, and then nod a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice (he does).  

"Yeah. I mean...these are really good, Jay. You're–" you cut yourself off, realizing you're about to say something embarrassing.

''–talented," you finish lamely.  

"Thanks," Jay tilts his head, looking almost shy. "That means a lot, actually."  

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.  

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."  

Oh.  

Oh?  

OH.  

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 him—focus! 

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."  

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 smiles—soft, something smaller, more private—and it's like the world shifts slightly off its axis.  

"Yeah," he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that makes you forget how to breathe. "You are."  

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.  

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?  

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.  

"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. 

He laughs, and the sound is warm and unguarded, "C'mon, I'll show you."  

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 here—and why you never want to leave.  

So much for in and out.  

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.  

It's not.  

Your brain is in full-blown meltdown mode. Red alerts, sirens blaring, a voice screaming, "WE'RE HOLDING HANDS, PEOPLE!"  

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.  

"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 count—for school events, games, the occasional half-hearted attempt to pretend you like sports. But somehow, in this shot, the field looks...different.  

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 capture—like it holds a thousand stories and secrets, quietly hopeful in its stillness.  

"It's beautiful," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can catch them. 

"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."  

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 you—he's staring at the photo, like he's seeing something beyond it.  

"I took it on one of those days—I 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."  

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.  

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.  

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.  

"Sorry," he says, his voice carrying a self-deprecating chuckle. "It's really cheesy and stupid."  

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.  

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.  

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."  

Your heart does a little somersault. Oh great. There it goes again.  

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.  

"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.  

You blink. I've officially lost it. Completely, utterly, hopelessly, lost it.  

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. Am I okay? No. No, you are not okay. You are decidedly not okay.  

Jay clears his throat, stepping back—though his hands linger a beat longer than they probably need to, but still a second too short than you should probably want to. 

You want to scream into the void.  

"Looks like it's time for Jisoo's dinner," he says lightly with a small chuckle. 

You fumble for words, your brain still offline.

"Uh—yeah. I left her bottle at my place, and I should probably get going anyways," you manage, your voice a little too breathless for comfort.  

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."  

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 you—like it's no big deal, like he simply wants to—makes the decision for you.  

"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.  

"Let's go," he says, flashing you a small smile that feels like a punch to your stomach in the best way possible.  

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. 

There’s something easy about walking with him like this. It shouldn’t feel this natural—your heart’s doing somersaults and pirouettes like it’s auditioning for a circus—but it does. You steal a glance at him, and he’s focused on the path ahead, his profile calm and soft in the glow of the lights. 

"So," Jay breaks the quiet as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, "Can you believe the project's almost over?"  

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head, "Honestly, no. Feels like just yesterday I was praying you'd drop the class."  

Jay laughs, a sound that seems to echo in the quiet environment.

"Wow, Y/N. I thought we were bonding."  

"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."  

He scoffs, giving you a mock-offended look, "I proved you wrong, right? I was amazing since day one."  

"You handed Jisoo to me like she was a bomb, Jay," you remind him, unable to stop yourself from laughing.  

"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!"  

"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. 

"Details, details," he waves a dismissive hand. "Point is, I'm practically father of the year."  

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.  

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.  

You open your mouth to say something—anything, even just a whispered thank you—but Jay beats you to it, sparing you the effort of finding actual, coherent words. 

“So,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just sent your brain spiraling, “what do you think you’ll do when it’s over?”

"Uh," you blink, still needing a second to reorient yourself. "Sleep, for once."  

Jay laughs again. "Fair. You deserve it. But you'll miss me, right?"  

"Not even for a second," you deadpan without hesitation.  

"Liar," he teases, bumping your shoulder lightly.  

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.  

"Okay, maybe a little," you admit, shrugging. "But only because you make me look like the competent one by comparison."  

"Wow," Jay shakes his head, but there it is again. The smile—the small, amused one that makes his eyes crinkle just enough to be unfairly attractive. 

You glance up at him, wishing the walk had been just a few blocks longer. Or a few miles.  

"Well," you say finally, forcing your gaze away from his own. "Thanks for walking me. And for carrying Jisoo." 

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."  

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.  

"Yeah, well," you clear your throat. "Partner support, you know?" You sound dumb, Y/N. Dumb.  

Jay smirks, but there's something gentler in his expression now, a flicker of something you can't quite name. 

"Goodnight, Y/N. And goodnight, Jisoo," he says, giving a small wave to the baby carrier, making you giggle slightly.  

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.  

"Jay!"  

He stops, turning on his heels, his brows lifting in surprise. "Yeah?"  

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."  

Jay blinks at you, his surprise turning into something softer. You take a deep breath, pushing through the self-inflicted awkwardness. 

"You've been a really good partner," you add, offering a small, genuinely smile. "And well...you're pretty cool."  

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.   

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.  

Jay's smile widens ever so slightly, and he nods, his voice quiet but firm, "I'll see you around, Y/N."  

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.  

As you step into your building and climb the stairs to your apartment, the night replays in your head on a loop—his laugh, his smile, his everything.  

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:  

You are completely, utterly, hopelessly in like with Jay Park.  

You're in so much trouble.  

“Congratulations, everyone!” Professor Kim clasps her hands together at the front of the classroom, a wide smile on her face. “You’ve survived six weeks of parenting. Hopefully, you’ve learned something useful—and that it hasn’t scared you off from actual parenthood one day. Each baby had a monitor tracking its status, so I’ll be extracting that data, combining it with your progress reports, and factoring it into your grade.” 

Jay leans toward you from his seat next to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“That’s a little creepy…she’s going to take Jisoo apart? The poor thing.” His smirk is half-guilty, half-amused, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing out loud. 

This is new. Six weeks ago, he was Mr. Front-Row Enthusiast, and sometime between then and now, you’ve somehow managed to convert him into your next-row-back partner. He’d grumbled at first when you insisted about your theory that the front row screamed try-hard, but since then, he doesn’t even glance at the seats up front anymore. 

“Grades will be out soon! I’ll see you all next week,” Professor Kim announces. “And don’t forget to submit your reflection posts!” 

The shuffle of bags and jackets fills the room as students thank her on their way out. Slowly, the lecture hall empties, until it’s just you and Jay lingering at your seats. 

“Well,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you stand. “That’s it. No more parenting lessons for us.” 

Jay heaves a dramatic sigh, his lips pulling into a pout that’s far too endearing for your peace of mind, “I can’t believe it. I already miss Jisoo.” 

You chuckle lightly but feel an odd tug in your chest, “Right? I got so used to carrying her and her baby bag everywhere. It’s weird not having her around.” 

And it is weird. You never thought you’d feel this way about a glorified hunk of plastic and wires, but now, without Jisoo, something feels…off.  

Or maybe it’s not just Jisoo. Maybe it’s the fact that this project, unexpectedly enough, turned into an excuse—a reason to spend so much time with Jay. Now that it’s over, what happens next? 

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. 

No more 'Jisoo days' to plan for. No more excuses to text. No more shared tasks or inside jokes. 

Will he go back to his front-row seat, forgetting these last few weeks? Or will he—will you—pretend none of this ever happened? 

Jay shifts beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicker to yours, then away again, as if he’s waiting for you to say something first. 

“Well,” you finally say, breaking the quiet because it’s just too heavy to bear. “I have to head to my next class.” 

“Right. Yeah,” Jay says quickly, too quickly, his hands both fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. “Makes sense.” 

He hesitates, his mouth opening like he’s about to add something, but then he stops. You notice the way he’s looking at you, like there’s a thousand things he wants to say but can’t figure out how to start. You feel that familiar heat creep up your neck, the same one you tend to get whenever you’re around him nowadays.  

“Alright,” you finally say, shifting on your feet. “See you around, then?” 

Jay’s lips turn up in a small, almost longing, smile, “Yeah. See you.” 

He doesn’t move, though. Neither do you. It’s 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. It’s getting unbearably uncomfortable for all of us, Y/N.  

And when you finally start to turn, before you can even take three steps, his voice stops you. 

“Hey.” 

You glance back over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?” 

Jay scratches the back of his neck, looking like he’s fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Uh, 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, but…” 

His smile softens, and his voice drops a little, “You were great. Really. I think I learned a thing or two from you.”  

Your stomach flips in a way that’s both infuriating and addictive. 

“Thanks,” you say, trying to sound casual even though your brain is short-circuiting. “Means a lot from someone who had to Google which way a diaper goes.”  

He laughs, the sound bright and warm in the cool air, “Okay, one time, Y/N. Let it go.” 

“Nope.” You grin, turning fully toward him now, your nerves settling under the familiarity of teasing. “You’ll never live it down. It’s my parting gift to you.” 

Jay presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Wow. I pour my heart out, and this is what I get in return?” 

“Exactly.” 

He chuckles again, shaking his head before finally stepping back, breaking the invisible bubble that’s been holding you both in place.

“Alright. I’ll see you, Y/N.” 

“Bye, Jay,” you say, forcing yourself to turn and start walking away.  

You make it a few steps before you hear his voice a second time, softer this time, almost hesitant. 

“Y/N.” 

You glance back, your heart skipping a beat. 

Jay looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.

“Text me when you get home later tonight, okay? After your day is done.”  

You blink, caught off guard.

“What?” 

“Just…so I know you got there safe,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. But the way his voice dips at the end betrays him. 

Your chest tightens in a way that officially feels dangerous. But you know you never want to get enough of this feeling.   

“Okay,” 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.  

Jay nods, his smile widening just a little.

“Good.” 

And this time, when you turn away, you can’t stop the smile that sneaks onto your face. 

✭・.・✫

By the time you get home, it’s late, and the apartment is quiet. Esther is nowhere to be found—probably 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 Jisoo’s carrier on your arm and her baby bag strapped to the other.  

With a sigh, you find your way to your room and collapse onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Jay’s parting words have been echoing in your head all day, barely letting you focus during the rest of your classes—“Text me when you get home.” 

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: 

Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe 👍 

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 doesn’t reply so you don’t have to overanalyze the significance of a thumbs-up emoji. 

But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly. 

Jay [8:53PM]: good 👍 sleep well. 

A small, ridiculous smile tugs at your lips. You really shouldn’t be this giddy over such a mundane exchange, over a thumbs up emoji, but somehow, here you are. 

And that’s when you start going insane. You shoot up from your spot in bed.  

Why did he tell you to text him? Does he say that to everyone? Or was it just…you? And why does he keep looking at you like that? You’ve never been the kind of person to spiral like this, but lately, everything about Jay has you unraveling in ways you don’t know how to handle.

Clearly.  

You groan, flailing your arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s no use. Every little interaction from the past six weeks replays in your head on a loop—his laughter, his stupid jokes, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. 

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, it’s the one you’ve been waiting for without realizing it: 

Professor Kim: Final grades are posted! 

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: 

Semester Project Grade: 100% 

“YES!” you exclaim, punching the air like a successful cartoon character. You’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt, practically bouncing in bed. It’s the kind of happiness that makes you feel like you’re going to burst if you don’t share it with someone. 

And there’s only one person you want to share it with. 

Before you know what you’re doing, your closet doors are wide open, your hands rifling through. Your hands land on his jacket—the one he lent you after the showcase—and 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. 

By the time you realize what you’re doing, you’re already halfway to Jay’s apartment. It’s not like you had a plan—just this overwhelming need to see him.  

Because somehow, he’s 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.  

But you’ve never been so sure of anything else before.  

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 someone’s place at this hour, unannounced, just to tell them about a grade? What if he already saw it and didn’t even think twice? You look insane, Y/N. Insane.  

But then you think about the way he looked at you earlier, the way he smiled when he said “good job.” 

And you knock.  

✭・.・✫

Jay doesn’t know what’s happening. One second, he’s on his couch editing photos, and the next, someone’s trying to break down his door. At least, that’s what it sounds like. The pounding is so aggressive it makes his mug of tea tremble slightly on the table. 

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, it’s sleek, ergonomic, and maybe intimidating in the right light. 

Bracing himself for certain doom, he yanks the door open— 

“Oh.” 

It’s you. 

At his doorstep. 

Unannounced. 

In his jacket. 

Jay flatlines. All he can do is stare at you in the oversized jacket—his oversized jacket—looking 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 She’s in my clothes. Marriage now. 

You tilt your head, studying his expression.

“Jay? Are you…okay?” 

He blinks, realizing he’s been standing there for a good five seconds with his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Uh—what’s up?” 

“Well first, why are you wielding a TV remote like it’s a sword?” 

Jay glances down at the remote in his hand, then back at you.

“…I thought you were a robber.” 

“A robber?” you repeat, struggling not to laugh. “What kind of robber knocks?” 

“I don’t know, maybe a polite one!” 

You let out a giggle and shrug, “Fair enough. But anyway, I’m here because—did you see?” 

“See what?” He frowns, confused, and still recovering from his adrenaline rush. 

“Professor Kim posted our grades! We got a 100%!” 

Jay stares at you for a second before the words sink in.

“Wait—what? We got a hundred?” 

“Yes!” You’re practically bouncing, a bright smile lighting up your face. “A perfect score, Jay!” 

He laughs and steps forward, grabbing your shoulders in his hands.

“No way. We actually did it?!” 

“We did it!” You beam back, jumping up and down. “We crushed it!” 

Jay’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, but he doesn’t care. There’s 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.  

And for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, caught up in the moment, smiling at each other like idiots. 

When the excitement dies down, Jay notices the way you’re still slightly breathless, like you’d run all the way here.  

“Wait,” he squints. “You could’ve just texted me, you know.” 

“Oh,” you shift your weight, suddenly looking a little shy. “Yeah. But I just…wanted to see you.” 

Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning.  

“Oh.”  

Oh? 

OH.  

“Yeah. So…here I am,” you add, failing miserably to conceal the wobble in your voice.  

“Here you are,” he repeats, his voice back to that soft tone that knows how to make your heart go into overdrive.  

His eyes flicker to yours and stay there as the air between you suddenly feels heavier. Charged. 

“Is that all?” Jay asks, his lips twitching into a teasing smile. 

“Uh,” you clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “I guess.” 

Jay leans against the doorframe, studying you with that stupidly charming smirk of his, “Well, then.” 

“Well, then,” you echo, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever encountered (spoiler: it’s not. That would be Jay’s face. But we’re not admitting that just yet). 

Neither of you moves. Not even a millimeter. The silence stretches so long that you’re pretty sure somewhere in the world, a Netflix show just autoplayed its next episode. 

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. 

“I should go,” you say, finally breaking the silence, your voice quieter now. “Sorry for barging in like this.” 

You look down at your feet, hands still mindlessly playing with the sleeve of his jacket. Jay’s stomach twists at the sight—at the quiet, unsure way you’re suddenly retreating.  

No. Absolutely not. He doesn’t know where his bravery is coming from (he suspects it’s sheer desperation), but he refuses to let you leave like this. 

Before you can fully turn away, Jay reaches out and gently grabs your sleeve, tugging you back like you’re his favorite person in the world—which, spoiler again, you totally are. 

“Wait,” 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 it’s where his hands were always meant to be. 

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.  

“You forgot something,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low as his eyes search yours, then your lips, then your entire face.  

Your heart stumbles, your brain short-circuits, and you’re pretty sure your face is now the color of a stop sign. 

“Oh, uh, the jacket?” you stammer, looking down at where he grabbed your sleeve, grasping for any logical explanation. “You’re right. Sorry, I almost—” 

But before you can finish, Jay does something both incredibly bold and incredibly reckless. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

For a moment, you freeze. This isn’t real. Is this an alternate universe where Jay kisses you instead of just driving you insane? 

But then, the realization sinks in—Jay is kissing you. Like, actually kissing you. And wow. 

The first touch of his lips sends a rush through your entire body, like every nerve has suddenly woken up all at once. He’s hesitant at first, almost like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, but when you don’t—when you finally let go of all the confusion, overthinking, and denial—you 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.  

And that’s all the encouragement Jay needs.  

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers brushing the hem of the jacket you’re wearing—his jacket, you remember with a strange, fluttering thrill. The kiss deepens, gentle but insistent, a slow, breathtaking unraveling of all the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks. 

It’s 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. 

He’s so close, and everything about this moment feels right—his familiar scent, the steady warmth of his hands on your waist, the way he tilts his head slightly to meet yours like he’s memorizing the shape of you. 

Your heart pounds, the world spinning just a little too fast and too slow all at once. It’s electric, and dizzying, and somehow everything and nothing like you imagined (because, yes, you’ve imagined it—so what?). 

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, “You can keep the jacket.” 

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you clutch at his arms for balance.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” 

“I’m a multi-tasker,” 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 him—your 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.  

"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."  

You roll your eyes, “You’re still an idiot.” 

“And yet, I’m the idiot you kissed back,” Jay fires back, brushing a strand of hair from your face.  

You shake your head, your voice soft and teasing, “You’re so—” 

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.  

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 back—just the two of you in the quiet of his doorway, and the overwhelming certainty that neither of you wants to let this—this moment, this feeling—to end. 

When you finally pull back, Jay’s eyes are sparkling, his gaze holding an undeniable warmth. 

“You know,” he starts, voice light but tinged with something deeper, “if you keep doing that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.” 

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in just close enough to make him squirm, your smirk playful. 

“And if you keep talking,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing, “I might change my mind.” 

Jay blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a breathless laugh, his arms instinctively circling your waist again, pulling you just a little closer.

“Noted. Say less. I’ll shut up forever. You’re stuck with me now.” 

Stuck with Jay? As in a more-than-project-partners kind of way? 

Yeah, you think, meeting the smile he’s giving you. 

You don’t mind that idea one bit. 

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/N’s Submission [11:15AM, October 30th]:

Parenting, even with a robot baby, turned out to be nothing like I expected. I’ve 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 things…unexpectedly fun.

Speaking of unexpected—let’s 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 :)

Jay’s Submission [11:30AM, October 30th]:

Honestly? I expected surprises, but I wasn’t ready to lose three years of my life over a diaper change—or nearly go deaf from tantrums. Safe to say, I learned the hard way that being a little prepared isn’t such a bad idea.

But here’s the thing: turns out, babies (and certain project partners) have a way of growing on you. Who knew spreadsheets and sleepless nights could actually be…kinda great? I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. And also, I know how to change a diaper in 30 seconds now. The right side up :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! let me know what you think °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

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cue all tags now...

[coqhee]

  ﹙✧﹚ 𝗆𝗒 hometown 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎

𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬𝖤𝖱──── 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

엔하이픈 x f!r fluff ── petnames est rl (for some) kissing skinship not proof read ⨯ 2162 ∘ ∘ ∘ reblog && comment 📂

em's note ★ i still think about this dicon pc everyday I want it sososososoo bad. based of this rec I received a while back >< how is everyone doing!?

─── ♡

lee heeseung

when you asked heeseung if you could come along to his ‘boys day’ with his friends, he didn’t even hesitate to say yes.

“hee can we maybe stop by s’phora quickly, if it’s not a hassle,” you asked, looking out behind you as heeseung pulled out of the parking lot. honestly, you felt bad for asking to go to so many places and more so bad having jake and jay being dragged along in the backseat of the car. 

“you don’t even have to ask, princess” heeseung said, glancing at you with a small smile before turning his attention back to the road.

more under the cut ><

“speak for yourself,” jay groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. 

“heeseung you know we’re going to be sitting in the sephora parking lot for like, an hour then right?” jake teased adding on to jay’s comment.

you rolled your eyes, already expecting this kind of reaction from jay. “i’ll be quick, i swear,” you said, though you knew deep down that was probably a lie.

heeseung let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to rest his hand on your thigh reassuringly. “take your time, baby, don’t worry about them.”

“ugh, you guys make me sick,” jay’s voice rang from behind the two of you, making you both laugh.

“yeah, yeah,” heeseung called back, completely unbothered, turning back to you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head lovingly.

─── ♡

park jongseong

you searched through your bag to find your card, but before you could pull it out, jay put his hand on yours, stopping you, instead pulling out his own card to hand to the waiter.

“put her split part of the bill on my card,” he said, flashing you a knowing smile, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a tiny shiver up your spine.

“are you gonna pay for the rest of us now?” sunghoon asked looking at the rest of the table then back at jay 

you blinked in surprise, looking between jay and his card. “jay, you don’t have to—”

“don’t even start,” he cut you off smoothly, flashing you a teasing smirk before turning back to the waiter. “just hers.”

“you’re acting like you’re my boyfriend,” you huffed, crossing your arms, despite the rosy pink cheeks.

jay snorted, tilting his head at you with a lazy grin. “and what about it? someone’s gotta take care of you, princess. plus i don’t know if you even have enough money in your bank account.” his thumb lightly grazed the back of your hand before he pulled away, leaving a ghost of warmth behind.

“jay, it’s just splitting $15 for a dinner bill. i’m not that broke,” you retaliated despite the bill already paying the bill.

“i’m serious,” jay said, his voice a little softer now. “just let me do something nice for you, yeah?”

you sighed, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. jay had always looked out for you in his own way—teasing, bickering, and acting like a pain, but always there when it mattered.

“fine,” you relented, nudging his foot under the table. “but next time, i’m paying for you.”

jay grinned. “we’ll see about that.”

sunghoon, who had been watching the whole exchange, shook his head. “so what i’m hearing is, if we all keep acting cute, jay will pay for our food too?”

jay shot him a glare. “don’t push your luck.”

─── ♡

sim jaeyun

"hi angel," jake called out, his voice softer than usual, like the words were meant just for you.

you looked up from your spot on the grass, blinking at him as he approached, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. his usual sharp, confident stride slowed as he neared, a telltale sign that you had his full attention.

"hi, jake," you greeted, stretching your legs out in front of you. "you're late."

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, plopping down beside you without hesitation. "i had practice. coach wouldn’t let us leave on time."

"so you ran here," you pointed out, catching the way his breathing was still slightly uneven.

he shrugged, looking away like it wasn’t a big deal. "it's whatever."

except it wasn’t. you knew jake well enough to know that he never rushed anywhere—except when it came to you.

"you didn’t have to rush," you murmured, nudging his knee with yours.

"i wanted to angel. just for you," his response was simple, quiet, but it made warmth bloom in your chest.

you grinned, reaching into the little bag beside you. "well, lucky for you, i saved you some snacks."

his eyes softened instantly, and any lingering frustration from practice disappeared as he took the food from your hands. "only you would think of that," he said, shaking his head fondly.

"of course," you said, leaning against his shoulder like it was second nature. "what else am i gonna do while waiting for my favorite person?"

he didn’t reply, but you felt the way his shoulder relaxed under you, the tension in his body melting away. jake was guarded with most people, always keeping up a front. but with you, it was different. with you, he didn’t have to be anything but himself.

─── ♡

park sunghoon

if there’s one thing you hate the most in the world, it’s the fact that your body loves to get hungry in the middle of the night, even after a large dinner from earlier. tonight was another example of this burning hatred, you’d woken up right back at 3am feeling hungry all over again.

you blinked at the ceiling, debating whether you had the energy to get out of bed or if you could somehow fall back asleep and dream about food instead. but the quiet rumble in your stomach said otherwise.

you were just about to kick off the covers when you felt a warm hand brush against your waist.

“where are you going?” sunghoon mumbled, voice raspy and heavy with sleep.

you froze for a second, caught, before whispering, “i’m hungry.”

he didn’t respond right away. you figured he’d drift back to sleep. but then you heard the rustle of blankets and felt him sit up.

“what do you want?” he asked, already reaching for his hoodie tossed over the chair. “ramyeon? toast? those weird frozen dumplings you like?”

you sat up too, guilt creeping in. “hoon, you don’t have to—”

“shh,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “my girl’s hungry. that’s an emergency.”

you smiled, watching him shuffle around the kitchen with bed hair and mismatched socks, blinking under the harsh fridge light like he hadn’t just been sound asleep seconds ago. his tired eyes, with dark circles under them suddenly vanishing whenever he looked your way at the kitchen island.

he looked ridiculous. and perfect.

you padded over and hugged him from behind, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“you’re soft,” you mumbled.

“only for you,” he said, dropping a dumpling into the pan with one hand and holding yours with the other. he gave you a tight squeeze, then let go, only to bring both hands to cup your face and pepper light kisses to the top of your head.

─── ♡

kim sunoo

it’s raining outside—the soft kind of rain that makes the windows fog up and everything smell like earth and quiet.

the two of you are curled up in bed with the comforter pulled high whilst 2 pairs of hands lay above a wooden bed tray splayed out. bottles on bottles of nail polish remain on the side. bottles of pastel blues, milky pinks, glittery silvers, whatever you had plus whatever sunoo thought would look cute to adorn you.

on the tv plays some stupid reality tv show the two of you are half invested in, giving occasional reactions to the people, and their rash choices in their love lives. 

“okay, next hand,” he murmurs gently, like the two of you are in a bubble no one else can reach. your fingers are cold from the fan still spinning quietly above. he warms them first by huffing a slow stream of warm air, then cupping your hands between his as if they’re porcelain.

“this color’s cute,” he says, uncapping a light yellow shade and leaning forward with all the focus in the world. his brows knit together as he carefully paints each nail, tongue peeking out a little in concentration.

“when did you learn to do this?” you giggle at his knitted brows as he hyperfixates on fixing your index finger. 

he beams with pride, “my sister taught me how,” his cheeks turning into balloons of a peachy pink, as he looks up at you. 

“figured i’d need to know someday, just for you sunshine” he adds with a soft shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world—to learn a delicate skill just in case someone like you might need it. you don’t say anything, but the warmth blooming in your chest says enough. sunoo, who bickered with his friends like a firecracker, who rarely let people touch his stuff, who rolled his eyes at the smallest inconveniences—was always, always soft with you.

while you leave your fingers under the mini uv light sunoo bought, the two of you move your focus back to the laptop screen. sunoo cards his fingers through your hair like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to do. 

─── ♡

yang jungwon

god forbid a man want to spend time with his girlfriend. it’d been 6 days since the last time any of jungwon’s friends had last seen him. lo’ and behold he was at your place in the last 6 days, only leaving only once when you begged him to buy another box of microwave popcorn. 

every time one of them texted asking where he was, he’d leave them on read—too busy curled up beside you on your couch, flipping through your shared playlist or trying to beat you in a game neither of you were particularly good at.

if they hadn’t known how incredibly attached by the hip he was to you, they would’ve automatically assumed you yourself was holding him hostage, but no. jungwon was staying put of his own choice.

“wonie you should really text your friends back and go catch lunch with them,” you urged him, whilst his arms clung put against your body, holding you as if you’d run away from your own apartment that now housed him.

he only groaned in response, face tucked into the crook of your neck, voice muffled. “don’t wanna,” he mumbled, fingers tracing random shapes against your side. “they’ll live. i see them all the time. i don’t get to see you all the time doll,” 

“won we’re literally 30 minutes apart,” your voice trails off, and before you can reprimand him further for not responding to his friends, he reluctantly types texts something on his phone then swipes it off and sets it down.

“ill get lunch with them tomorrow,” he starts, “i guess,”

you roll your eyes at the exaggerated sigh he lets out, but you’re smiling, and he catches it—smirking a little as if he’s won something. “you’re so clingy,” you tease, poking his cheek gently.

jungwon only shrugs, tugging you closer like that was the plan all along. “yeah,” he says, matter-of-factly, not even pretending to deny it. “but only for you.”

─── ♡

nishimura riki

if there’s one thing riki treasures most in life, it’d be you. obviously. concerningly close second is his nintendo switch. 

whenever riki has jake and sunghoon over, he cannot bear to leave them in the room alone with it, out of pure fear of them messing up his stats.

no matter if they’re playing fortnite or mariokart, or god forbid minecraft, riki HAS to be there to supervise them.

“bro i’m literally just customizing your kart,” jake would argue.

“exactly,” riki would snap, snatching the console back. “mine.”

and yet, for reasons no one can fully comprehend, you're the only person on earth allowed to touch it without supervision. even when he’s not home. even when you're playing animal crossing and accidentally dig up half his flowers. even when you log onto fortnite and tank his precious KD.

“rik,” you frown once, glancing up at him mid-game, “i think i might’ve… blown up the garden.”

he peers over your shoulder, squints at the pixelated chaos, then shrugs.

“you’re lucky you’re cute baby.”

“wow. so if i weren’t?”

“you’d be no different than jake and sunghoon.” 

he honestly could not care. even when he’s around watching you play, he doesn’t dare say a word, because no game is worth a miniscule of frustration to you.

“it’s fine,” he shrugs when jake gasps in horror after finding out. “she can do whatever.”

if you’re happy? then the switch can burn.

─── ♡

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved.

[starsenha]

JUST THIS ONCE / P.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x dom!bf!jay

Genre ◊ SMUT, established relationship, fluff at the end

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), cursing, neck kisses, marking, petnames (baby, doll, good girl...), rough sex, jay ripped reader's dress, reader wears lingerie, dirty talk, degradation, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do it), posessive!jay??, spanking, praising, multiple orgasms, aftercare, jay proposes to reader at the end

Word count ◊ 3k

Summary ◊ it was your third anniversary with your boyfriend and he had planned to take you to a nice fancy restaurant to celebrate, but he kinda changed his plans when he saw you in your dress.

a/n: thank you anon for making this request! not proofread, enjoy!

Your apartment was relatively quiet, except for the soft music playing in the background, blending with the faint scent of lavender from the candles you had lit earlier. It was your third anniversary with Jay, and the excitement was palpable. You stood in front of the mirror, meticulously putting on the final touches of your makeup. The soft light from the vanity highlighted your features, making you glow even more than usual.

Jay had been your rock for the past three years. His love for you was unwavering, and it showed in every little thing he did. Tonight, he planned a special dinner to celebrate your relationship, and you were both eagerly looking forward to it.

As you picked up your favorite pair of earrings, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Glancing in the mirror, you saw Jay standing in the doorway, a tender smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with admiration as he took in the sight of you.

"You look absolutely stunning," he said, his voice filled with awe.

You chuckled softly, a playful glint in your eyes. "You say that every single day, you know."

"Because it's the truth." Jay stepped into the room, his gaze never leaving you. "I'm serious, every time I see you, it's like I'm falling in love all over again."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. You turned back to the mirror, slipping on your earrings. As you did, Jay walked up behind you, sliding his arms around your waist. His hands rested on your hips, and he pulled you gently against him.

"Are you trying to distract me?" you teased, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk as he pressed a kiss to your neck. "I just can't help it. You look incredible, baby."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sensation of his lips on your skin. His touch was electric, sending waves of warmth through your body. You leaned back into him, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you. He started with gentle pecks, then his kisses became more open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You knew how sensitive you were there, and Jay knew it too. He was taking full advantage.

“Jong,” you breathed out, trying to keep your composure as a wave of heat coursed through you. “We have reservations. We can’t be late.”

His hands began to wander, one sliding up to your shoulder to gently tug at the strap of your dress. The silky fabric slipped down, exposing more of your skin to his eager mouth. His other hand pressed against your stomach, holding you firmly in place.

“I don’t give a shit about that,” he whispered against your neck, his voice low and husky. “You look so fucking good in that dress. I can’t help myself.”

You tried to protest, but your words came out weak and breathy. “We really should—”

He turned you around to face him, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re hungry, I get it. But I need you right now, more than anything.”

His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest. The kiss deepened, and you could feel his need for you in every movement, every touch.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. He looked at you with a cocky, playful grin. “I’ll cook something for you later, i promise, and I'll reschedule the reservation. Right now, I need you.”

You bit your lip, torn between your hunger and the intense desire building within you. “Jay, we really should go to dinner…”

He cut you off with another kiss, his hands roaming your body with a possessive intensity. “You’re enjoying this, don’t lie,” he said against your lips, his voice a teasing growl.

You couldn’t deny it. The way he was touching you, the way he was making you feel, it was intoxicating. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and he was doing it with expert precision.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured, his lips moving back to your neck. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

His hands slipped under your dress, and you felt your resolve weakening. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You knew you should insist on leaving, but in that moment, all you wanted was him.

“Jay…” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and surrender.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of love and lust. “I love you,” he said softly, his hands still exploring. “And I need you right now, baby. Please.”

You gave in, your hands threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “Okay,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. “But just this once.”

He grinned. “That’s my good little girl.”

The moment those words left his mouth, something shifted in him. His eyes darkened and he captured your mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. There was no gentleness anymore, only raw passion His hands gripped your hips, pulling you tightly against him as his tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you completely.

His lips quickly found your neck for the third time that night, but this time, he was much more insistent. He nipped and sucked at your skin, parking you with dark bruises. He loved marking you, reminding everyone you were his and his only. Each hickeys sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making the wetness between your legs even more prominent.

With a rough yank, he tore the dress apart, the sound of ripping fabric filling the room. "My dress!" you exclaimed as you stared at him in shock.

He only smirked, his eyes boring into yours. "I'll buy you another one doll, don't worry," he said casually, a little too casually. You were left standing in your favorite set of lingerie, the white lace set you knew drove him completely wild everytime you wore it. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail, and he chuckled darkly. "Look at you, wearing my favorite set. What a naughty girl. Did you plan this, or are you just that fucking desperate for me?"

You felt your cheeks burn at his words, and you felt your white panties getting completely drenched. As you didn't respond, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Answer me, doll. Did you dress like that because you wanted me to ruin you?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper, "I didn't... I mean, I..."

He laughed soflty, his grip on your chine tightening. "You did, didn't you? You wanted this. You wanted me to take you. Well congratulations, sweetheart. You're getting exactly what you wanted."

His free hand moved to your back, unclapsing your bra with practiced ease. he tossed it aside, his eyes never leaving yours. "On the bed."

You didn't hesitate. You moved to the bed, your legs already weak. You could feel his eyes following your every move. As he hovered over you, you felt a shiver down your spine. Your hands went to the buttons of his white button-up, fumbling slightly in your haste. You needed to feel his skin against yours, to touch the toned muscles you had come to love so much. As you pushed the fabric off his shoulders, your breath hitched. His torso was a work of art—toned, tan, and undeniably sexy. Even after three years, the sight of him like this made your mouth water.

Jay noticed your reaction and smirked, his eyes gleaming with arrogance. “You like what you see, don’t you?” he teased, his voice a low growl.

You bit your lip, unable to tear your gaze away from his chest. “You know I do,” you whispered.

His smirk widened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good, because you’re mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His hands were already on you, rough and demanding. One hand slipped between your legs, parting your thighs, while the other cupped your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple through the thin fabric of your lingerie. The dual sensations made you arch your back, a moan escaping your lips.

His hand slipped underneath your panties, hissing once he felt how wet you were. His index parted your lips before he slid it into your wetness, thrusting it roughly inside you. Your back arched, and he slid his middle finger almost immediately. The sudden invasion made you cry out, a choked moan leaving your lips, your body already trembling. He set a relentless pace, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmured, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck. "You like being treated like this, babygirl? You like it when I'm rough like that, mmh?"

"Y-Yes, fuck," you moaned, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. "Please, don't stop."

His lips curled into a satisfied smile against your skin. “Good girl. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. His thumb found your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure. Your breath hitched, and you felt the world around you start to blur.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “I want to see you when you come.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The connection between you was electric, and it pushed you over the edge. With a cry, you came hard, your body convulsing around his fingers. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming you completely.

Jay watched you the entire time, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He slowed his movements, drawing out your orgasm until you were left panting and trembling beneath him.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he said softly, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you taste incredible.”

You were still catching your breath, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He quickly undid his pants, tugging them off along with his boxers, his cock freed from their confines as it slapped against his tan stomach, red and ready, precum leaking from the tip. The sight made your mouth watered and you could feel yourself leaking.

“I need to be inside you, doll” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against your wetness. “I can't wait any longer.”

Without another word, he thrust into you, hard and deep. The sudden fullness made you cry out, your hands gripping the sheets. Jay set a relentless pace, each thrust rough and demanding. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you against him with every movement.

“Fuck, you feel so good, that pussy was made for me, sh-shit” he groaned, his voice ragged. “So tight, so perfect. You're mine, do you hear me?”

“Yes, jong, fuck,” you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of his thrusts. “I'm yours. Always yours.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re going to cum for me again. I’m not stopping until you do.”

He shifted his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. The pleasure was overwhelming, building rapidly. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it with firm, precise strokes. You were still so sensitive from your earlier orgasm, it didn't take a lot of time for that familiar coil in your lower stomach to form.

“I'm-I'm gonna c-cum,” you cried out, your voice desperate.

“Cum for me, babygirl” he demanded, his thrusts growing even rougher.

You obeyed, your body shattering with pleasure. Your scream filled the room as you came hard around him, your muscles clenching tight. But he didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, pushing you through your orgasm and into another one quickly. He knew your body too well, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to make you fall apart on his cock.

“That's it, scream for me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be bruises. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so he could take you from behind. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He spanked you lightly, his hand leaving a stinging imprint on your skin.

“You're my little fucktoy, aren't you?” he taunted, his voice rough and filthy.

“Fuck yeah” you panted, barely able to form words.

He spanked you again, harder this time. “Good girl. Now cum for me again.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but the combination of his rough thrusts and dirty words sent you over the edge once more. You came hard, your body convulsing with the force of it. Jay groaned in pleasure, but he still didn’t stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your back again, his eyes wild with lust. “I want to see your face when you cum.”

He entered you again, thrusting hard and fast. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands were everywhere, touching, gripping, claiming you. The intensity of it all was overwhelming, but you loved every second.

“Jay, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate plea.

“Please what?” he taunted, his thrusts never slowing. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come again,” you cried, tears of pleasure streaming down your face. “Please, Jay, make me come again.”

“That's my good fucking girl,” he murmured, his thumb finding your clit once more. “Come for me one more time.”

You screamed as your body obeyed, the orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you breathless. Jay watched you the entire time, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his movements grew erratic. He was close, and the thought of him finding his release pushed you even higher. With a final, deep thrust, he groaned loudly, his body tensing as he came inside you. The sensation of his cum painting your walls white sent a final wave of pleasure through you, and you moaned softly, your body completely spent.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. Both of you were panting, your bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. Jay pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice softening. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, a tired but content smile on your lips. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a bit sore.”

Jay chuckled softly, his eyes filled with love and concern. “Let’s get you cleaned up and comfortable, okay?”

He carefully helped you sit up and led you to the bathroom. He turned on the warm water, filling the bathtub while you leaned against him, feeling the comforting strength of his presence. Once the tub was ready, he gently helped you into the warm water, the heat easing the soreness from your muscles.

Jay kneeled beside the tub, his hands moving to wash you with slow, soothing strokes. “Even like that, you're so beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for his care.

After the bath, he wrapped you in a fluffy towel and carried you back to the bed. He dressed you in one of his soft t-shirts, the fabric warm and comforting against your skin. He made sure you were comfortable, tucking you in with a gentle kiss.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and some painkillers. “Here, this should help.”

You took the pills, sipping the water as he settled beside you. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. The tenderness in his voice and the warmth of his embrace made you feel cherished and loved.

After a while, Jay shifted slightly, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a small black velvet box and looked at you with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“I was going to give this to you at the restaurant,” he said, his voice a bit shaky. “But since we’re staying home, and you’re all sore, I figured now is the perfect time.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he opened the box, revealing an exquisite ring. The center stone was a stunning diamond, surrounded by smaller, sparkling gems. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and you could see the care and thought that had gone into choosing it.

“Seongie…” you breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

He took the ring from the box and held it up, his eyes meeting yours with a serious, loving gaze. “You mean everything to me. These past three years have been the best of my life, and I want to spend the rest of it with you. Will you marry me?”

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “Oh my God, Jay, of course I will!”

A wide smile broke across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he said, pulling you into a deep, loving kiss.

As you snuggled into his arms, admiring the ring on your finger, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. Despite the soreness and the change in plans, this moment was perfect. Jay had taken care of you, showed you his love in every possible way, and now he had promised you forever.

“I know it’s a bit extravagant,” he said softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. “But I wanted you to have something that reflects how much you mean to me, baby.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with love. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And I can’t wait to spend it with you, my love. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” you whispered back, feeling a sense of contentment and joy that you knew would last a lifetime.

[saturnznct]

how he acts when you're pregnant | enhypen x reader

➸ request from anon; heyy, I’m so happy you’re back! You’re fics were always my go-to if I wanted to read anything dad/pregnancy related, loved them all! can you please write about how enhypen would treat you during pregnancy, like their protectiveness, taking care of the reader, or when she’s having complications etc. 🤍

➸ note; hehe me too thank you so much!! that makes me so happy!! i don't love some of these but I hope they're what you wanted <3

➸ word count; 2335 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun, seren; in the womb lol

➸ warning(s); mentions of vomiting, implied sexy time, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, mentions of possible birth complications

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

Heeseung can’t take his hands off you.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re newlyweds, or if it’s because you’re pregnant, but he can’t stay away.

At least one hand is always somewhere on you, on your shoulder, around your waist, on your thigh or knee. 

At night, it doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of summer, his arm is snaked around you and his head is buried in the back of your neck.

Once you reach your second trimester, and your bump becomes noticeable, Heeseung is always touching your bump, tapping it absentmindedly with his fingers, beaming from ear to ear when eventually he can feel your baby boy squirming underneath his touch.

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night to the push of feet against his palms, it made him smile every time.

Heeseung is also completely whipped for you, he’ll do anything you ask. 

Your cravings get intense, and he doesn’t complain when you wake him at three in the morning whining about salted popcorn with cheese on. And he goes to the store for you, every time.

Heeseung isn’t usually very sappy, but as soon as your bump pops up he’s the most sentimental soppy man in the world.

Every morning and night he talks to your bump about anything and everything. Even during the day he will randomly address the bump asking it questions.

‘Okay, little one,’ Heeseung sinks to his knees one morning, resting a hand on either side of your bump, ‘kick once for cornflakes. Kick twice for the chocolate cereal.’

You giggle, ‘you’re an idiot.’

‘I’m indecisive. This boy needs to pull his weight and help me. He’s already living here rent free for the next however long.’

You roll your eyes, going back to your own breakfast.

‘What do you think baby boy?’ Heeseung gently pokes at your bump attempting to illicit a response.

Eventually your son delivers a single kick, causing you to choke on your coffee. 

‘Unlucky,’ you laugh at his disappointed face, ‘cornflakes it is.’

‘I will evict him as soon as physically possible. How can he disrespect me like this in my own house.’

‘Can’t wait until he’s actually here,’ you murmur.

‘Me too,’ Heeseung kisses your bump before getting up to kiss your head and reach for the cornflakes.

jay

Jay isn’t too overbearing during your pregnancy. He’s not the type to constantly ask if you need anything, he will wait for you to ask him.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t anticipate your needs, you’ll come home from a late shift to find your pregnancy pillow already set up, your cravings are always fully stocked and there’s always plenty of bubble bath.

Where he does get somewhat intense is in public.

Jay constantly worries about harm coming to either of you. When you go shopping, he’s careful not to be recognised, wearing hats and glasses as to not to draw attention to you. In airports, his arm is always around you, guiding you around. 

So, when he’s on tour during your pregnancy and you come to visit, he’s on high alert.

‘Jay, I can walk around the venue by myself,’ you’re escorted into the dressing room by a security guard.

Jay pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head, ‘there’s lots of equipment around baby, what if you hurt yourself?’

You roll your eyes, ‘have I ever hurt myself backstage before?’

‘Let me look after you,’ he pecks your lips, ‘anyway, it’s soundcheck soon. There’s a nice chair set up for you beside the stage for the actual show as well-‘

‘Wait, I’m going to watch from backstage?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Jay says, ‘going out there can’t be good for you, or the baby-‘

‘But you know I love being in the audience,’ you pout, ‘Jay, I want to be out there singing along with my lightstick just like everyone else.’

Jay tilts his head, ‘I don’t know, sweetheart, you’re so far along and the fans can be so intense…’

‘I’ll be in the stands with your managers, I’ll have so much space!’

‘I just have visions of you falling over or someone bumping into you..’

‘Please, baby,’ you pull out the puppy eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, and you quickly see him crumble.

‘Fine, but minimal dancing,’ he taps your nose, ‘and a security guard.’

Just then, a stage runner knocks on the door, letting Jay know he’s needed for soundcheck.

‘Come on, I’ll take you to your seat.’ 

‘Jay!’

jake

When you first found out you were pregnant, Jake sort of panics a little bit.

You’re hunched over the toilet and throwing up he doesn’t really know what to do. This is completely new territory for him. Your early symptoms often have him incredibly flustered, you’re emotional, your boobs hurt and you’re constantly dizzy.

One night, Jake comes home from practice, and it’s like his instincts awaken when he sees you in the bathroom, on the floor sobbing.

‘Jake,’ you cry when you see him, and he’s instantly at your side on the tiles, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Jake takes you into his arms, letting you cry into his shoulder.

‘I know I haven’t been the most.. helpful,’ he murmurs, ‘but I know you, and you are so strong, and you can do this. And I will do everything and anything you need from me, okay?’

From then on, Jake is the most attentive boyfriend, and is very touchy. You don’t even have to ask, and he’s giving you a foot massage. You come home from work, and there’s already a bath run for you at the perfect temperature.

Once you’re four months in, your bump becomes noticeable, and Jake’s level of affection is just exacerbated. 

Every night he rubs your lotion on your bump, tells the bump about his day, and sleeping with his hand on it.

When you’re hormonal, he holds you.

‘Everything hurts, Jake,’ you sob, ‘all day. She’s been sitting on my spine all day, and I’ve been having braxtons, and my boobs hurt and they’re leaking, I tried to nap but I just couldn’t-‘

Jake from month one in your pregnancy would’ve freaked out at your outburst, but this Jake, in month seven, is calm and collected.

He runs you a bath, filling it with lavender bubbles. On your insistence, he gets in behind you, rubbing your back, shoulders and achy breasts.

’Is that better?’ Jake murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine and stirring up your hormones.

‘Much,’ you roll your head back against his shoulder, ‘you’re the best.’

He kisses your head, ‘how about we get out and go lay down?’

‘We can get out,’ you nod, ‘but can we do more than lay down?’

Jake grins cheekily, ‘incredible idea.’

sunghoon

For your whole pregnancy, Sunghoon is just filled with pride. He shows ultrasound photos to everyone and talks nonstop about your incoming baby girl to anyone that will listen.

Sunghoon becomes a bit of a pregnancy expert. Every book he can get his hands on, he reads cover to cover. He knows what to expect, what was abnormal and everything in-between. 

So Sunghoon did notice just how much you were needing to go to the bathroom. 

It was relentless. He would wake up several times a night to you wriggling out of his arms and padding into your ensuite. During the day, you’re constantly up and down needing to pee, when you’re driving you have Sunghoon pull into service stations constantly. 

He brings it up to your doctor at the next scan. Your doctor agrees that the rate of your bathroom trips are a little out of the ordinary, so he refers you for blood tests. 

‘Gestational diabetes,’ you read the words on the leaflet, slumped in the passenger seat of your car.

‘Y/N..’

‘This is my fault.’

‘Y/N, you heard the doctor. Sometimes these things just happen,’ Sunghoon rests a hand on your arm.

‘What if something happens to her because of this? I know he said that the risks were small, but what if?’ you begin to tear up.

’She was perfect on the scan the other day, remember? I’m going to help you through this. We’re going to get through this.’

Sunghoon stayed up all night that night reading article after article about gestational diabetes. You woke up the next morning to find a full google doc with meal plans, exercise routines and a schedule to check your blood sugars.

He happily did everything with you, eating the same meals and cutting down on sugar. 

On an evening, the two of you would go down to the pool in your apartment complex for a swim. You would slowly swim around while chatting, usually about the baby or work. 

‘You’ve made this so much easier for me,’ you stand over your daughter’s empty crib, damp hair occasionally dripping onto your bump, ‘thank you.’

‘It’s what I’m supposed to do,’ Sunghoon gently turns you around by your waist and kisses your nose, ‘as your husband and her father.’

‘We love you, Hoon.’

‘I love you too.’

sunoo

Sunoo feels totally out of his depth. 

Suddenly his fiancee is pregnant, something you never expected. He doesn’t know the first thing about pregnancy, and doesn’t know how to respond to your symptoms. He sort of just treats you as if you’re sick, bringing you soup and tea but keeping his distance. At the same time, you’re hormonal, and can’t understand why he’s staying away.

You worry he doesn’t want the baby, that he’s having second thoughts, or you’re bothering him too much with your requests. In reality, Sunoo is just so worried that he’s not being helpful, or that somehow he might hurt or upset you.

One night you’re laying in bed together watching TV in silence, you essentially lose it.

’Sunoo,’ you’re tearing up, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ he whips his head around to look at you, ‘for what?’

‘You’re just distant, and you keep away from me, I barely see you. If it’s me or the baby I would rather you just tell me-’

’No- no, that’s not it at all. I want you and the baby more than anything in the world.’

Sunoo is quiet for a few moments, ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just scared. I’ve been retreating into my head and haven’t been there for you like I should be.’

‘Sunoo, we need to talk to each other. I need to know how you feel. If we’re going to be parents, we need to be a team, we need to be in sync.’

‘I know, you’re right. I promise going forward I’ll be more open with you about how I feel.’

From then on, he’s obsessed with all things pregnancy and baby.

Every few days you’ll come home to a package addressed to you that you didn’t order, containing a weird pregnancy product that he saw on TikTok.

You and Sunoo talk constantly. You chat late at night in bed, in the morning on your balcony as the sun comes up, in the car on an evening, all about your excitement and fears surrounding the baby. 

Sunoo also becomes somewhat clingy, especially at night or when you’re in crowds. While before you were pregnant he would usually just throw an arm around you, now he sleeps completely pressed against you, his chest to your back.

‘I love you,’ he mumbles into your neck one night, ‘thank you for giving me my dream.’

jungwon

Your pregnancy with Serin is very turbulent. 

For the first half, everything is fairly smooth.

You get sick, and Jungwon holds your hair back. You have mood swings, he tries his best to be empathetic. 

Jungwon knows enough to understand that these things are par for the course, so he’s supportive but not too concerned about your symptoms. 

You were around halfway through your pregnancy when the less than normal symptoms began.

Jungwon would come home from practice to you sitting in a completely dark room. 

‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’

Your head was in your hands, unable to be lifted.

‘I have the worst migraine I think I have ever had,’ you whine, ‘I have taken as much paracetamol as I am allowed. I had a bath in the dark, put a cold cloth on my forehead. Wonnie it’s so bad, I can barely see..’

Jungwon holds you, massaging your head until you fall asleep hours later. 

When the headaches and vision problems persist, you make an emergency appointment. 

‘Bed,’ Jungwon practically pushes you up the stairs when you get home, supervising and making sure you were changing into comfortable clothes and getting under the covers. 

Your intense headaches turn out to be preeclampsia. Although at the moment Serin was measuring well, the doctor had warned you of the potential complications, including preterm labour or low birth weight. 

You’d been ordered to take strict bed rest. 

For the remainder of your pregnancy, Jungwon waits on you hand and foot. 

He’s suddenly fussing over you, messing with your pillows and cushions. He brings up your food on trays, eating every meal beside you. The two of you tear through countless shows on a plethora of streaming services. He holds you when you cry in frustration. He holds your hand when the doctor visits every week.  

‘Baby, it’s ready,’ Jungwon enters your bedroom, approaching the bed.

‘Really?’ you warm with excitement at the prospect of getting out of bed, ‘can I see?’

Jungwon helps you get up, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. 

He leads you down the corridor and into your daughters nursery, which he, Jay and Heeseung had spent all day decorating.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ hot tears spring to your eyes, ‘you guys.. It’s exactly how I imagined.’

‘She’ll be in there so soon,’ Jungwon lays a hand on the rail of the crib, ‘and no matter what happens, she’ll be fine.’

[florawrites-blog]

boyfriend!jay who likes to plan your future together even when your dreams are too big

You lay comfortably on Jay’s lap, looking up at him with bright eyes as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair. The conversation had started with simple house plans—what kind of kitchen you wanted, whether to have a big backyard—but, naturally, it had spiraled into something much more important.

“Wait, wait—so you’re telling me,” Jay started, raising an eyebrow, “that even after we get married, my members are still gonna haunt us?”

You giggled, reaching up to poke his cheek. “Jay, are you kidding? They’re our children. And of course Uncle Heeseung will have his own suite—show him some respect.”

Jay sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Of course. How could I forget? Uncle Heeseung.”

You nodded proudly, but then, suddenly, your expression turned serious. You lowered your voice into a whisper, eyes darting side to side as if checking for hidden cameras. “Actually… Maybe we should also decorate his room.”

Jay’s brows furrowed. “What?”

You lifted your head slightly, still speaking as if revealing top-secret information. “Since he kinda doesn’t know how to, y’know… d-decorate.”

Jay burst out laughing, but you quickly shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. “Shh! What if he’s listening?!”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” he teased, eyes filled with amusement. “Heeseung’s probably hiding under the couch right now.”

“EXACTLY.”

Jay wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, still chuckling, but then his expression turned playfully serious. “You know what, baby? How about we also sing them lullabies before bed?”

Your eyes lit up. “OH MY GOD. YOU’RE A GENIUS.” You sat up excitedly. “We should also do, like, story time before bed—”

Jay tilted his head back, laughing so hard his dimples popped out. He tried to stifle it, but he couldn’t. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, pulling you closer and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still so down bad.”

Jay hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah… I really, really am.”

And if that meant listening to you happily rant about interior design and bedtime stories for his grown-up members every night, then he’d do it forever.

[en-lov3r]

⚠️ AUDIO WARNING (MOANING)❗❗❗ NOT MY EDIT

​🇮​'🇱​​🇱​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇦​​🇱​​🇱​​🇾​ ​🇩​​🇴​ ​🇦​​🇳​​🇾​​🇹​​🇭​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​ ​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​ ​🇭​​🇮​​🇲​ ​🇮​​🇩​​🇬​​🇦​​🇫​ 🫦

[wwooyology]

Until Forever | P.JS

↳ this is an add on to this fic here!! you do not have to read it to read this one, but it would make more sense if you do!!

「pairing」 : fiance!jay x fem!reader 「word count」 : 5k

「synopsis」 : it's father's day and you and your daughter make a secret plan to surprise jay with a nice dinner to come home; however, neither of you had expected him to return home early, but it doesn't change much. jay is just happy to have his little family together for a special day.

「genre」 : fluff... like tooth-rotting fluff, dad!jay

「warnings」 : kissing, mentions of pregnancy, petnames (baby, babe, princess, love, baby girl, bug, sweets...), down bad jay, minor cussing, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : this is something I wanted to write for a while, and well, I couldn't think of a better time than fathers day! I loved writing my first dad Jay fic, so making an add-on to it actually makes me really happy, but I hope you enjoy it. happy father's day to those who celebrate and to those who don't well... I'm your daddy now hehe

The warm summer sun was shining through the small kitchen window above the sink as you and Minji stood at the counter with mixed cake batter. The young girl was standing on her little stool next to you, trying to crack an egg, but she couldn't, which caused her to start getting frustrated. She just wanted to help you bake a cake for Jay for Father’s Day, but she had been struggling to crack the same egg for a few minutes, and you didn’t want to interrupt her. However, when Minji goes to throw it down, you intervene and take the egg from her little hands.

“You can’t throw the egg, love,” You laugh softly, cracking the egg and dumping the inside contents into the bowl with the other ingredients.

Minji pouts as she watches you mix the batter, her hands holding onto the countertop. She is amazed by how easy it was for you to crack the other egg before putting it into the bowl as well.

“Why is it so hard for me to crack the egg, mama?” She asked, eyes tearing away from the bowl to look up at you as a smile tugged on the corner of your lips. Even after two years of her calling you that it never ceased to make you smile, loving to hear the words fall from her lips.

You dusted your hands off with a rag before turning to face the little girl. Starting to bend down, you realized that you couldn’t go down as far as you once used to with the baby bump that had formed on your stomach. Getting comfortable with one hand gripping the countertop edge, you opened your mouth to speak to the little girl, but she was quick to interrupt, panic on her face.

“No, mama, stand up. You’re going to squish, sissy!” She exclaimed, her eyes moving from your face down to your swollen belly. You couldn’t help but laugh at how worried she was.

“Min, the baby is okay, I promise.” You smile at her softly before dusting some of the flour off of her shirt. Now, how about I finish up with the cake so we can get it in the oven? Then we can decorate it while I start dinner, okay?” A smile grew on the little girl’s face as she nodded her head, excited to make the cake look pretty for her daddy.

Patting her head softly, you pull yourself back to your feet with a huff, grab the bowl, and whisk to finish mixing. Minji watched with intrigued eyes, not saying much as you made sure there weren’t any clumps left in the batter before grabbing the cake pan.

Spray the pan with cooking spray to make sure the cake won’t stick to the sides when you try to get it out. Then grab the bowl and start pouring the batter inside. Once all of the batter was scraped out of the bowl, reach over Minji and sit it inside the sink, then grab the cake pan.

“Stay right here, Min, I don’t want you to get burnt.” You instruct the young girl, and she tilts her head quizzically before muttering a small ‘Okay, mama.’ After making sure that she was going to stay in her spot, you walk over to the preheated oven and open the door before sliding the pan in. When it was fully inside, you closed the door and set the timer. Dusting your hands off once more you looked back at Minji who was still watching you with curious eyes, you looked at the clock. 

Jay shouldn’t be home until later in the evening, so the two of you should have more than enough time to decorate the cake and finish cooking dinner before he returns.

After the cake was done baking in the oven and fully cooled off you and Minji started to decorate it. You covered the entirety of the cake in frosting before grabbing a variety of sprinkles, decorative icing, and edible flowers to lay them before Minji so she could decorate.

“Alright, sweets, figure out what you wanna use while I finish off the frosting.” You pat down a few strands of her hair before turning back to the cake and grabbing the spatula.

Minji leans down until her chin rests on the counter, watching as you smooth out the frosting. Her eyes then fall onto your belly, and a small pout forms on her lips.

“How much longer is sissy going to be in there?” Minji asks as she lightly pokes your belly, resulting in a soft kick from the baby that was growing inside of your womb. You smile softly, setting the spatula down to cup the small girl’s face, brushing some stray frosting off of her face with your thumb.

“She still has a few more months until she gets here, Min,” you tell her with a smile, moving your hand from her face but not looking away.

Minji’s bottom lip jutted out, “Why can’t she come sooner?”

“Well, if she were to come now, she would be really sick, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” You watched with a fond gleam in your eyes as the little girl shook her head violently, slight panic forming in her eyes.

“No! I want her to be healthy, so I can play with her.” She exclaims, causing you to laugh softly, shaking your head. You then tell her that she will have to wait just a little bit longer after she’s born to play, which results in the young child sighing before yet another pout forms on her lips.

The both of you then go back to decorating the cake, talking about anything the girl could think of or humming a tune that has been stuck in your head.

However, after a few moments of not hearing a peep from Minji you looked over at her, seeing a troubled look on her face. Stopping what you were doing so you could turn all of your attention to her, “What’s wrong, bug?”

The moment that Minji turned her head, allowing her teary eyes to meet yours. Seeing the tears that were pooling along her waterline made your heart lurch. You reach out to cup her small cheek in your palm, thumb wiping a stray tear that had broken free.

“Are you and Daddy going to forget about me when sissy gets here?” Her voice shook as her bottom lip trembled, making your heart hurt. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel like you or Jay would forget about her when the baby got here.

“Aww baby,” You cooed softly, crouching down once more despite the discomfort so you were at eye level with her. Reaching out, you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at her with such fondness, “We’re not going to forget about you, even after the baby gets here.” You offer her a small smile, tilting your head slightly. “She’s going to need a lot of attention, but your dad and I will never forget about you, no matter what.”

Minji sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her hand before holding out her other hand, her tiny pinky sticking up. " You promise?” she asks.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you wrapped your own pinky around her’s, “I promise.” The both of you seal the word as the pads of your thumbs meet.

Unbeknownst to the both of you Jay stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched the two of you go back to decorating the cake. His eyes gleamed with adoration that if anyone had been looking in from the outside they would say that he quite literally had stars shining in his eyes. One would say that he was lovesick, the other would say he was a fool, but Jay didn’t care. If loving his fiance and children made him a love-sick fool, then so be it.

He watched the two of you discuss where to put the small edible flowers on the cake for a few more moments until he finally pushed himself off of the door frame. Walking further into the room, he watched his footsteps so the floorboards wouldn’t make too much noise.

“How are my favorite girls?” His voice filled the room, causing both you and Minji to jump. Turning around quickly, with your hand over your heart, you looked at Jay with wide eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be home until later.

Minji looks over at her dad with a huge smile on her lips before jumping from the stool, almost tripping, scaring the life out of you and Jay. However, she catches herself before making a beeline for Jay.

“Daddy!” She screamed as she ran into Jay’s awaiting arms, wrapping her arms tightly around Jay’s neck as he wrapped his around her smaller body. When he picked her up, Minji started to giggle, burying her face in Jay’s neck.

“How was your day princess?” Jay asked the small girl as she pulled away to look at him with wide, twinkling eyes. She starts to tell him about all of the stuff that you and her had been doing all day causing a smile to spread on your lips, watching the two of them. “Have you been listening to your mama?” Jay pokes her belly causing Minji to burst out in a fit of giggles before nodding her head and looking over at you just as you started to walk towards them.

A silly smile spread on Jay’s lips as he watched you waddle over to the two of them, your hand lying softly on the top of your baby bump. It still baffles him to this day that you have given him a second chance, even if it has been three years since then. Now he’ll get to call you his wife soon and you’re carrying his child. He will probably forever wonder whether or not this was all some dream, but if it was, he hoped it was one that he would never wake up from.

“She’s been good, she’s always good, Jay.” You smile softly as he wraps his arm around your waist the moment you’re within arm's reach.

“I’m just worried about leaving her alone with you right now,” He tells you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head as you wrap your arm around his torso. You rolled your eyes playfully before looking up to meet his gaze.

“I’m seven months pregnant, Jay, not handicapped.” 

“I know, but I’m still gonna worry regardless.” He stared down at you, taking in your features. The way your hair that was pulled back into a messy bun was starting to come undone resulting in a few stray pieces falling and framing your face. The small specks of frosting that somehow got onto your cheeks, then your pretty pink lips that were coated in a thin layer of lip gloss. Noticing his gaze, you reached up to move a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, snapping him out of his little trance. Smiling softly, he leans down to kiss the top of your head once more.

Minji started poking his shoulder, trying to gain his attention, “Daddy, guess what?” Jay turned his attention back to his daughter as she smiled widely at him, her small body shaking in excitement. “We made a cake for you!” She exclaimed, pointing over at the unfinished cake that still sat on the counter.

Smiling, you looked over at her before moving to meet Jay’s gaze once more as he looked over. “It’s not done yet; we weren’t expecting you to be back so soon.”

“Ah well,” Jay chuckled, tightening his hold on the both of you, “I managed to get boss to let me off early so I could spend the rest of the day with my favorite girls.”

His words made your heart twist. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but just hearing how he would much rather spend every waking second of the day with you and Minji made you realize that you truly had picked the best man alive.

Minji wiggles her way out of Jay’s arms before grabbing his hand and dragging him over to where the cake was, leaving you to stand there and watch with a fond smile. The young girl went on to explain everything about what the cake looked like and how she wanted to decorate it for him. She then looked up at him, her face as bright as the sun saying that she hopes that he likes it when she finishes it.

“I love it already, Min.” He promised, patting the top of her head before she climbed back onto her stool to finish decorating.

You watch for a moment long before turning and walking over to the stove to finish cooking dinner. Noticing movement from the corner of his eye Jay looks over at you, seeing you pick up the ladle, your other hand propped on your hip. 

With one last pat to his daughter's head, he makes his way over to you, grabbing the ladle from your hand, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve got it, bug; you should help Min finish the cake.” He looked at you with a soft smile, but you knew that arguing with him would just be useless, so you just shook your head, a smile pulling on the corner of your lips. Moving out of the way you allow him to take your previous stance, but you don’t move very far, eyes still on Jay, watching as he gets back into his element.

Seeing that you hadn’t gone anywhere and still stood in the same place Jay turned his head slightly before reaching a hand out to lay his palm flat on your swollen belly. His thumb rubs your skin soothingly through the fabric of your shirt as you move your hand to lay it on top of his, the light gleaming off of the diamond that laid on your ring finger.

Pulling your attention away from your hands, you let your eyes trail up until they met his, searching his orbs as the light reflected off of them. You had always loved his eyes. They always seemed dark at first glance, but upon closer inspection, they were a shade of your favorite chocolate, a beautiful color in your eyes.

“Thank you.” Jay breaks the silence; however, his words just leave you staring at him confused. You open your lips, asking what he meant and he just smiles sweetly, his gaze full of such love that it leaves you weak in the knees. “I am beyond thankful for you, bug; you’re always there for Minji and me. Thankful for everything that you have done for us. And I will forever be thankful that you gave me another chance because now I have the family that I’ve always thought about.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping to keep the tears that had pooled in your eyes at bay. His words made your heart flutter, beating against your ribs in such a manner that you were sure that your face was red. Your hand moved faster than your brain, smacking his chest softly with a playful glare adorning your face.

“Stop trying to make me cry, asshole.” You grumbled lowly, not wanting Minji to hear you.

Jay couldn’t help but laugh before laying the ladle down so he could turn and engulf your smaller body in his arm, pulling you as close as he could with your pregnant belly in the way.

He presses a kiss to your forehead with a smile, “I’m sorry, love.”

Just then, a loud crash was heard throughout the whole kitchen, causing you to jump in Jay’s arms. Small curses left your lips, causing him to chuckle. Before the two of you looked over at the little girl, who was looking down at the fallen bowl with wide eyes, the spatula not too far from it. There were small specks of frosting all over her face and a few bigger splotches around her mouth and chin.

“Whoops.” As soon as the word fell from Minji’s lips, both you and Jay burst out laughing, the little girl not too far behind you.

The two of you then separated, moving towards Minji to help clean her up. “I’ve got her,” you told Jay. He was quick to grab your upper arm, ready to protest, but you turned and pressed the pads of your fingers to his lips, shushing him. "You just cook dinner; I’ve got her.”

Jay grabbed your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his mouth before placing a gentle kiss on the skin of your palm, muttering a small ‘okay’ before releasing his hold.

He watches as you walk over to the sink to grab a clean rag from the drawer next to it before wetting it with warm water. You then turn to the little girl as she tilts her face towards you, already knowing what was coming.

“So, did you like the frosting?” You teased her, gently wiping the leftover frosting from her cheeks. 

Minji giggled but nodded her head nonetheless, “I did! It was really sweet, though.” The girl exclaimed with a tight-lipped smile as you wiped down her chin.

Once her face was completely wiped off, you moved to pick up the bowl off the ground, but Minji was quick to hop off the stool, shouting that she’d got it. A sweet, wide smile spread on your lips as you watched her scoop up the bowl and spatula in her arms before turning and handing them to you.

Jay watched from the side with an adoring gleam in his eyes, knowing that Minji was already going to be a great big sister despite the almost six year difference.

“Thank you, love.” You thanked the child as you took the dishes from her outstretched arms and placed them in the sink to wash later.

The two of you then go back to decorating the cake—well, more like Minji is decorating it, and you’re just there to supervise so she doesn't make too big of a mess while Jay finishes dinner. The only sound filling the comfortable space around the three of you was the soft tunes that Jay was humming.

~

After dinner was done Jay gathered all of the dishes, ignoring your protests for him to let you do it. Realizing you weren’t going to win this fight, you just opted to help him clean them, which even took a bit of convincing. Finally giving in, Jay allowed you to dry the dishes off before placing them back in the cabinet. Even Minji found a way to help by standing next to Jay and pointing out all of the spots that he missed on some of the dishes, causing you to laugh softly as Jay faked a shocked expression every time.

He’d do anything if it meant that a smile would fall on either of his girls' faces.

Once the dishes were finally done, Minji started to hop around the dining table with a huge smile on her face. She then came to a halt in front of you, grabbing your hand and looking up to meet your awaiting eyes.

“Can we get the cake and presents out now?” she asked hurriedly, gently swinging your arm, causing you to chuckle and nod. However, Jay looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“You didn’t have to get me anything; being with the three of you is more than enough.”

You roll your eyes softly, “No, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Plus, Min has been excited to get you something.” You tell him, and the little girl by your side starts to nod her head violently, causing you to let out a small laugh. " Plus, it is your special day after all.”

Jay relented with a sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t be winning this fight, definitely not with the excited look that adorned his little girl’s face. So he sat down at the table, watching as the two of you walked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with the gifts in hand.

Coming back to the table, you took Minji's gift and set them both down on the table in front of Jay. Minji then clung to your side, her head resting on the side of your tummy, eyes on her dad as he thanked both of you.

Jay grabs the gift from Minji first, pulling out the stuffing paper and reaching inside. A wide smile pulls on his lips as he pulls out a cute coffee mug that was littered with little doodles that Minji had scribbled on them. Jay took a few moments to inspect every drawing on the cup, seeing butterflies, puppies, her name, as well as both yours and Jay’s names, as well as a bunch of other random doodles. With a stupid smile on his lips, he sat the cup down before grabbing the homemade card that she had made for him. He once again took his time reading it, relishing in the way that despite Minji being only five her spelling and handwriting were amazing.

When he was done reading the card, he sat it down next to the cup before turning to look over at Minji, who still had a hold of your hand, eyes on him. Jay held a hand out for the small child, and she rushed over to him without an ounce of hesitation, wrapping her arms around him.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” She exclaimed, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him with a toothy grin.

“Thank you, baby girl.” He returned her goofy smile before pressing a kiss on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter close, but the smile never left her lips. 

Once Jay pulled away from her, Minji climbed onto his lap, quickly getting comfortable before looking over at you. Walking over, you place your hand on the back of Jay’s chair, watching as Jay reaches forward, grabbing the other small gift bag. 

Jay throws a quick glance at you when he pulls a small ring box out, his eyebrows furrowed. He has a small feeling that he already knows what it is, or, well, more along the lines of what it could be. Your lips curl inward, trying to fight off the smile as you usher him to open it.

Opening the small box, Jay’s eyes go wide as he sees a ring sitting inside. However, it wasn’t just any ring. No, it was the right that he had been contemplating getting a few months back but decided not to. He was sure that you didn’t know about it, knowing how you are when he refuses to buy anything for himself, so how did you find out?

“What? How-”

You let out a laugh, hand moving to his shoulder, “Babe, you have a bad habit of not closing tabs when you’re done with them.”

Jay just chuckles with a small chuckle, “Yeah, you’re right.” He agreed before looking back down at the ring when he noticed how antsy Minji was in his lap. Asking if something was the matter she just shook her head before pointing to the piece of jewelry and telling him to look at the inside. 

Confused, he takes the piece of jewelry out of the case before inspecting it. His eyes then go wide when he realizes that there are names inscribed on the inside of the band. Minji and Joonhee. Both of his little girls’ names.

“I knew how much you wanted something with the girls’ names on it, so when I saw the ring, I found a perfect solution.” You smiled sweetly at him as he looked up at you with literal stars shining in his eyes, making your heart flutter.

“Thank you, baby.” He spoke softly, biting back tears, but then he realized that he hadn’t seen your name with the girls’. “But where’s your name?”

You shook your head, telling him that you weren’t sure about adding your name, so you decided not to. Jay waved it off before saying that he’d go within the next few days to add your name.

“I want all of my girls’ names on there. Especially my wife and mother of my children.” His voice was sweet along with his words which easily brought tears to your eyes. You had wondered what you had done in your past life for you to deserve such a caring man like Jay.

You weren’t able to hold your tears this time resulting in them starting to fall down your cheeks.

“God dammit, Jay, I told you not to make me cry.” You curse him, trying to wipe the tears from your face, but it proves pointless as more just replaced the ones you had wiped away.

Jay chuckles softly before laying the ring back inside the box and grabbing Minji to pick her up once more. Hoisting the little girl on his hip as he stood, he wrapped his other arm around you, pulling your body into his, creating a small group hug.

“I love you both so so much.” He whispered, inhaling through his nose to keep his own tears at bay before pressing a kiss to Minji’s forehead. The little girl squealed with giggles, smiling at Jay when he pulled before leaning forward and pressing a kiss of her own on his cheek.

“I love you too, Jay, so much.” You responded to him as his eyes fell back on yours.

He leaned down, sealing your lips with his in a soft, gentle kiss, his hand on your jaw, angling your face for better access. After a few moments, the both of you pulled away with smiles adorning both of your faces.

Then you remembered the cake, quickly wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks, and smiled brightly at both Jay and Minji.

“Alright, who wants cake?” As soon as those words fell from your lips, Minji exclaimed loudly that she did, wiggling in Jay’s arms, causing you both to burst out laughing once more.

~

When the three of you were done with the cake, you all settled in the living room. You were lying between Jay’s legs, your back pressed against his chest, while Minji was curled up in your lap, using your baby bump as a pillow while the three of you watched movies.

It wasn’t too long before Minji fell asleep on your lap, her arms hanging loosely at her side while her face was smooshed against your belly. You cooed softly, brushed the hair out of her face watching her sleep for a few moments until a yawn tore through your lips.

“I think it’s time to call it a night; what do you say, bug?” Jay asked softly, his lips pressed against the back of your head.

Before you could even speak, you were cut off by a yawn answering Jay’s question. Laughing softly he maneuvered his way out from behind you so he could pick the sleeping child up.

“Noooo…” Minji whined sleepily as Jay pulled her from your lap, but as soon as her head laid on Jay’s shoulder, she was out once more.

Both of you laughed quietly before you moved to get off the couch, but Jay was quick to hold his hand out. Smiling up at him, you placed your smaller hand in him, allowing him to hoist you to your feet with little to no struggle.

You thanked him before the three of you made your way to Minji’s room to settle her before making it back to your room.

Settling down in bed, Jay reaches over to lay his hand on top of your baby bump once more. However, this time, the baby kicks, causing the both of you to laugh softly. He then leans over, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Your hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing his skin gently, realizing his warmth.

Pulling away, he lays his forehead against yours, breathing softly through his nose, “Thank you, again, for everything.” He thanked you for the nth time that night causing you to giggle softly before reaching forward to cup his face in both hands, kissing him once more.

“I would do anything and everything for you Jay,” You smiled as he sealed your lips in yet another kiss, all of his love and adoration seeping out as he kissed you deeply this time.

Pulling away, he moved down to your belly, fingers caressing the skin that was peeking out from the bottom of your, well, his shirt. You watched with soft eyes as he placed gentle kisses on the curve of your stomach.

“Don’t keep your mom up all night, alright.” He whispered against your skin, causing a silly smile to spread on your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The two of you lay down after turning the lights off. Jay’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He then kissed your shoulder, trailing his lips up until he got to your ear.

“I don’t know how I became the luckiest man on earth, but I will never take it for granted.” He whispered softly, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I promise that I will do whatever it takes to make sure you and our daughters are taken care of.” He then kissed the top of your head, “I love you so much, baby,”

You mumbled a soft ‘I love you too,’ sleep already consuming your mind as you were encased in Jay’s warmth.

“Good night, my love.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, falling asleep with your hand lying over his.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[callikari]

90210 — park jongseong

SYNOPSIS — being young, rich, and in love is a full-time job. between shopping sprees on rodeo, overpriced smoothies at erewhon, and last-minute lunch plans in malibu, you and jay have perfected the art of luxury. in a city where money moves faster than traffic, the two of you reign as la’s golden couple—effortlessly stylish, endlessly unbothered, and always, always together.

PAIRING — park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader

GENRE(S) — fluff, romance, rich kids of beverly hills, luxury lifestyle, established relationship

WARNING(S) — ridiculous amounts of wealth, absurd spending, jay being a boyfriend you can only dream of, no real responsibilities

WORDCOUNT — 1.7k

AUTHORS NOTE — idk how to feel about this .... ALSO can u guys tell how much i NEED summa

jay has a hand on your thigh, thumb grazing the soft fabric of your vintage chanel mini dress as he drives down sunset boulevard in his black porsche. the windows are down, the la breeze tangling through your hair, and you’re sipping on an overpriced smoothie from erewhon—because what else would you be doing on a thursday afternoon?

“do you even like that?” he asks, glancing at the vibrant pink drink in your hands.

you shrug, taking another sip. “it’s pretty.”

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he switches lanes effortlessly. “you just paid twenty dollars for aesthetics.”

“and?”

he smirks, squeezing your thigh before returning his hand to the wheel. “nothing, babe. just reminding myself why you’re perfect for la.”

—

by the time you reach rodeo drive, your phones are already buzzing. jake’s texting the group chat (where are you guys? rei just dropped an embarrassing amount at bottega), and sunghoon’s snap map location is hovering suspiciously close to cartier.

“bet he’s buying another watch,” jay muses, parking the car with the kind of ease only someone who’s been driving luxury vehicles since sixteen could manage.

you grin, adjusting your sunglasses as you step out onto the pristine sidewalk. “how many does he even have now?”

“too many,” jay mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both stroll toward the boutiques.

inside chanel, rei is already modeling a matching tweed set in front of the mirror while sunoo gives her the harsh truth. “you already own, like, five of those.”

“yeah, but not in this shade,” she counters.

you pluck a classic black bag off the display, turning toward jay. “should i?”

he barely looks at it before nodding. “get it.”

“that was fast.”

“because you look good with anything.”

sunghoon appears then, holding a cartier bag, confirming jay’s earlier bet. “okay, who wants to do lunch? i’m thinking nobu.”

rei wrinkles her nose. “boring. let’s do georgio baldi.”

you exchange a look with jay, and without a word, he’s already pulling out his amex black card.

“get changed,” he tells you with a knowing smirk. “we’re going.”

—

you’re perched on jay’s lap in a malibu restaurant, your newly purchased chanel bag resting beside a half-empty glass of expensive wine. the ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing against the shore, and the golden glow of the late afternoon sun makes everything feel even more unreal.

jay’s fingers trace idle patterns on your thigh, his other hand holding his wine glass. “thinking about something?”

you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “just that we’re really them.”

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “we always have been, baby.”

because at the end of the day, it’s not just about the money or the luxury—it’s about you and him. the golden couple. young, rich, and forever unbothered.

© callikari — all rights reserved

[flwrstqr]

ADORE YOU ⭑ WHEN THEY'RE YOUR HUSBAND

𝐈𝐕────𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈

❪ 𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗦&𝗖𝗢 ❫ husband!enhypen & fem!rea 1OOO ◞ ◟书 fluff established relationship headcanons 𝘄 ｡ drinking skinship petnames ❞ DAILY

다니 ⦂ i miss my flueries a lot TT i promise i'll be more active soon ><

LEE HEESEUNG

your cheeks are flushed and you're giggling into his shoulder, arm slung lazily around his waist as you sway just a little, drunk on champagne and the fact that you’re married to the prettiest boy in the room—he's yours. “he’s my husband,” you whisper again to a poor stranger who just smiled too politely, and heeseung’s laughing under his breath, hand slipping down to squeeze your hip as he presses a kiss behind your ear. “i know, love,” he murmurs, “i’m right here.” you pout when he tries to tug you away from the hors d'oeuvres table, your fingers lacing with his. “he’s mine,” you tell the bartender next, and heeseung just grins like a fool as he spins you into his chest. “yes, baby. forever. now let’s get you some water before you propose to me again.”

PARK JAY

you’re leaning over his desk, the soft clack of your pen against paper filling the room as you scribble your signature—mrs. park, almost out of habit now—and you don’t even notice the way jay’s watching you until he hums lowly. his arms looping around your waist as he leans in, the soft brush of his loosened tie grazing your shoulder. “my last name looks good on you,” he whispers, smirking. you blink, caught, heart skipping. “jay,” you say, pretending to scold, but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to. he chuckles, brushing your hair aside so he can kiss your neck ever so lightly. “yes, princess?” he teases, hands stroking your hips, his thumb lazily traces your waist. “sign all the papers you want, baby. i already put a ring on it.” god—this man. in his office. and only eyes for you.

SIM JAKE

you don’t even notice the guy at first—not until he leans in too close and asks, “are you single?” with a half-smile that makes your stomach churn, but before you can answer, jake’s arm is suddenly around you, pulling you so close your back hits his chest, “she’s married,” he says, voice smooth but laced with steel and coldness, and the guy blinks, stunned, until jake adds with a little smirk, “by me,” his eyes are locked on the poor guy who’s suddenly stammering and backing away, palms raised. “jesus,” you mutter, half-laughing as jake presses a kiss to your cheek. “what?” he shrugs innocently. “can’t have people thinking my pretty wife’s up for grabs.” you roll your eyes but your heart stutters anyway, the ring on your finger suddenly burning with meaning, and you lean into him, whispering, “jealousy looks hot on you.” “good. now dance with me, baby.”

PARK SUNGHOON

you’re leaning over the bathroom counter, fixing your lip gloss with practiced ease, when you catch sunghoon’s reflection behind you—shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp, but his gaze is soft, entirely on you. you pause, blinking at him through the mirror, and that’s when he murmurs it, voice low, almost like he’s thinking out loud—“how did i get so lucky?” the gloss wand stills in your hand as your heart stumbles, and you turn just slightly, smiling despite yourself. “you say that like i’m not the lucky one,” you tease, but he only walks closer, slipping his arms around your waist from behind, nose brushing your temple. you lean back into him, fingers brushing over his. “you’re gonna ruin my makeup,” you whisper. he just smiles, “worth it.”

KIM SUNOO

you’re half-distracted, phone pressed to your ear as you rattle off your order, casually adding, “and my husband will have the strawberry one,” not even thinking twice—meanwhile, sunoo’s halfway across the room, frozen with a spoon in his hand as he tries to hide his smile. his ears go red instantly, and when you hang up and turn around, he’s just standing there, grinning like an idiot. “what?” you laugh, confused, and he practically skips over, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. “you called me your husband,” he whispers, voice all giddy. “i mean... you are?” you smile. he just melts more, and three hours later, he’s still smiling like he just won the lottery.

YANG JUNGWON

you’re curled up beside jungwon, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you both lounge on the couch. the warmth of his body makes everything feel perfect, his soft breath tickling the top of your head. "babe," he murmurs, gently kissing the ring finger of your left hand, the one he’s kissed so many times, his lips lingering there a little longer than usual, sending a small flutter through your chest. “you’re so beautiful,” he adds, making you smile. you tease him, "flattery will get you everywhere, hm?" he chuckles, pulling you closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "i just speak the truth, sweetheart," he whispers, wrapping his arms tighter around you. his fingers trace slow circles on your arm, a grin. dimples.

NISHIMURA RIKI

it’s funny how people still think riki is your boyfriend, even though you two got married early , he knew from the start he wanted to be with you forever. as you two were talking with some friends, one of them teased, "so, your boyfriend is here?" riki, with a smirk, quickly corrected them, "no, i'm her husband." he leaned in to press a quick kiss on your temple. you roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. he loves it—loves making that little correction, watching the surprise flicker across their faces.  "a little more serious than boyfriend and girlfriend," "i guess he can’t stop showing off that ring," you add, with a teasing tone. "can't blame him," 

[pnghoon]

daddy's in a tutu !!

(🩰) ── 𝓟ARK JONGSEONG [제이] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, humor, married auㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !jay 𝔁 wife !reader ᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.3k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you come back home to the sight of your husband in a pretty pink tutu (•̪ o •̪) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ "unfortunately I can imagine him in a tutu if our daughter asked him too" is so jay coded. you will never not catch me yapping about husband jay..bc why is that man so hubby material. if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the snow was falling heavily outside, blanketing the world in a soft, white layer. inside your cozy home, you were busy getting ready for a day of much-needed errands.

bustling around the house, you pulled on your warmest winter coat and bundled up, ready to brave the icy roads.

before you left, you turned to your husband, jay, and your four year old daughter, yubin, who was sitting on the couch, hugging her favorite pink stuffed bunny.

you stared at your daughter's crestfallen face as she cuddled up beside jay. It was the inevitable that the four year old would be upset right now. due to the icy roads and heavy snow, today's ballet class was canceled, leaving yubin devastated.

“are you sure you'll be okay?” you asked, fixing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your purse.

jay looked up from the couch, where he was busy trying to cheer up yubin, her eyes still a bit puffy from the earlier tears and her nose resembling rudolph.

“we'll be fine,” he reassured with a smile, “right, princess?”

yubin nodded half-heartedly, a cute pout still present on her face as she clutched her bunny.

“you guys call me if you need anything,” you reminded them, pressing a kiss to jay's cheek and ruffling yubin's hair. “i'll be back soon.”

and with one last look at your two favorite people, you braved the snowy outdoors. the cold air nipped at your cheeks, but the promise of hot cocoa and a warm house kept you going.

you made your way to the car, shaking your head with a smile at how cute they looked together. little did you know, an adventure was unfolding inside.

jay and yubin huddled together in the living room, surrounded by the warmth of the heater and the faint sound of delicate snowflakes hitting the window.

yubin wore her little ballet outfit, a mini bun perched on the crown of her head as she practiced her pirouettes.

jay on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up with her, although his ballet skills were definitely less refined.

“okay binnie, let’s try that spin again,” jay said, puffing slightly. “i think i’ve got it now.”

yubin giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched her dad try to catch his breath from just a couple twirls.

“daddy, you’re doing great! but…”

“but what, sweetheart?” jay asked, glancing down at her with a raised brow.

“i think you need a tutu too!”

jay blinked. he hadn't anticipated that request. “a tu..tu? i don’t know if that’s a good idea honey...”

“pleeease, daddy?” yubin begged, giving him her best puppy eyes. “it’ll be so much fun!”

jay stared at his daughter for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of her big round eyes staring up at him.

after a moment of thought, jay reluctantly sighed, giving in to her adorable plea. “alright, alright. if it’ll make you happy, i’ll wear a tutu.”

and with that, jay found himself sporting a frilly tutu that barely fit his hips, his face turning an adorable shade of pink to match the tutu. yubin clapped her hands in delight, twirling around in her own tutu.

“we're matching now daddy!” yubin cheered, jumping around in her ballet slippers.

jay laughed, looking down at the slight new change of wardrobe. it was definitely a combo to say the least, never in his life would he expect sweats to look so good with a tutu.

“isn't that right binnie?” he commented, extending his hand for yubin to take. “now, let's get back to those grand jeté's we were working on earlier eh?”

yubin squealed, immediately accepting his requests with the grasp of her tiny fingers and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“yes please!”

as they continued their ballet practice, the living room had turned into a makeshift stage for the two, with yubin and jay performing a whimsical ballet routine, the sweet melodies of the nutcracker adding the perfect touch to their chaotic performance.

“okay, let’s see your best grand jeté!” yubin called out, her tiny arms reaching out dramatically.

jay attempted a grand jeté, but ended up looking more like an enthusiastic baby goose learning to fly, his arms flailing in the air.

yubin giggled uncontrollably, trying to mimic her dad's moves with even more dramatizing flair.

they pranced around the living room for what seemed like hours, their tutus fluttering in sync with every twirl and leap. for jay’s sake, they would take periodic breaks throughout the practice.

during these breaks, yubin would watch in amusement as her dad rested his hands on his waist, desperately trying to regain his composure. let’s just say, it was like watching a wind-up toy wind down.

after what felt like ages, you were finally heading home. sure, the sweet jingle of christmas music and the warm smell of cinnamon from each errand stop were enduring, but what you were really looking forward to was being wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket with the two people you love most.

as you pulled into the driveway, the house looked picture perfect against the snowy backdrop. you carried your bags inside, balancing them as you nudged the door open with your hip.

“i'm back!” you called out, kicking off your snowy boots and setting the bags down in the kitchen. “i got all the goodies!”

no response. now you were curious.

you walked further into the house slowly, following the sound of familiar classical music you knew all too well. peeking around the corner, you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

there, in the middle of the living room was your husband, in a bright pink tutu that barely fit his athletic build. matching his outfit was your daughter, her own tutu flaring out as she twirled around, her giggles a melody of their own. they were completely in the zone, unaware of your presence.

If you were being frank, the scene was too precious to interrupt. jay was trying to execute an arabesque, but his balance was off, making yubin laugh even more.

“come on, daddy! like this!” she demonstrated with the grace only a child could have, and jay tried again, a bit more successfully this time.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and jay’s head practically spun at the sound, his face turning even redder from embarrassment.

“oh- hey honey! um, well, yubin wanted to practice ballet–” he explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

“don't stop on my account,” you teased, revealing yourself from behind the wall as you took in the scene before you in all it’s glory.

yubin ran over to you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

“mommy, look! daddy's my ballet partner!”

you couldn't help but chuckle, kneeling down to hug your daughter. “i can see that," you commented through giggles, your gaze flickering towards your husband for a moment. “and I must say.. he's doing a pretty fantastic job.”

“why thank you.” jay answered. he tried to pull off a graceful bow, but from the energy he had just exerted to his recent performance with his daughter, he stumbled a bit.

you couldn't stop laughing, tears forming in your eyes. “oh, jay, you're a sight.”

jay grinned, walking over to join you and there daughter. “anything for our little princess. plus, i think i’ve found a new appreciation for tutus.”

later that evening, after yubin was tucked into bed, you and jay found yourselves cuddled on the couch, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a warm glow to the room.

“you really made her day today, y'know,” you murmured, resting your head on jay's chest.

“well, that's what dads are for, right?” he replied, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

“i think you might have missed your calling as a ballet dancer,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

jay laughed, pulling you closer. “i'll stick to my day job, thanks. but for yubin, i'd wear a tutu any day.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. “and that's exactly why you’re so amazing.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[mrsjjongstby]

A scenario where husband jay is a total support to his wife who just gave birth... I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD MAKE US CRY😭

Stawppppp thats such a good req! i HAD to write it off as quickly as possible! hope u'll like it!

tw: mentions of pregnancy, skinship, kind of angst, comfort, mentions of blood and giving birth (lmk if there's more!)

___________________________________________________________

The room is dim and quiet now. The storm of hours-long labor has passed. You’re lying in the hospital bed, exhausted beyond words, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds as nurses gently finish their tasks.

Jay hasn’t left your side. Not even once.

He holds your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. His eyes are red — not just from lack of sleep, but from watching you go through pain he couldn’t take away. Every time you screamed, every tear you shed — he felt it all like it was happening to him.

The nurse walks in, carefully handing you the baby. But your arms are trembling, eyelids too heavy.

“I can’t,” you whisper brokenly, guilt choking you. “I’m too tired... I should hold him, but—”

Jay stops you gently. “No, no, love,” he murmurs, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from your forehead. “You’ve done everything. You carried him. You brought him here. That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You burst into tears. Not because you're sad, but because he gets it. He doesn't push you to perform the perfect mother act. He just holds your hand tighter.

Then, Jay picks up your son carefully, like he's holding the universe. And maybe he is.

“Hey, little guy,” he whispers, voice cracking. “You have no idea how strong your mama is. I watched her fight for you. And I promise I’ll fight just as hard for both of you.”

You manage a tired smile, eyes fluttering shut again as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

"Sleep, my love," he whispers. "I’ve got him. I’ve got you."

He sits in the chair beside your bed, baby in his arms, gently rocking.

And that’s how the nurse finds him two hours later — holding your son, watching over both of you with the softest expression, as if he’d protect this little family of his with everything he has.

___________________________________________________________

It’s your third day home from the hospital.

The house is quiet — too quiet. No visitors, no chaos. Just the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional sleepy coo from your baby resting in the bassinet by the bed.

You’re curled up under a blanket on the bed, still healing, still sore, still figuring out how to be a mom in this new world that shifted overnight. You’ve barely showered. Your hair’s tied up in a lazy bun, your eyes are puffy from crying two hours ago — over nothing and everything.

You hear the gentle creak of the door.

Jay walks in, quietly, like he’s scared to break the air around you. He’s wearing an old hoodie, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy, holding a tray — warm soup, a glass of water, a folded towel.

“I heated the soup again,” he says softly, placing it beside you. “You didn’t eat much earlier... I added more carrots. You like it that way.”

You look up at him and feel your eyes sting.

You whisper, “I feel like I’m failing. I’m supposed to be stronger. Better. I couldn’t even change his diaper properly this morning—”

Jay kneels beside the bed, eyes locked on yours.

“No,” he says firmly. “You are recovering from literally creating life. You bled, you tore, you fed him from your body. Baby, you are not failing. You’re healing. That is strength.”

You break again. Quiet tears, shaky breaths.

And Jay just pulls you into his arms.

“Let me be strong for both of us right now,” he whispers into your hair. “That’s what we promised, didn’t we? I’ll hold you, while you hold us.”

You stay like that for a while — his hoodie against your cheek, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Later, he walks around with the baby tucked into his chest in the wrap carrier, whispering lullabies under his breath as he cleans up the dishes and folds laundry with one hand. When you wake up from your nap, the soup’s still warm, your meds are set out, and a small note on the nightstand says:

“You are everything he needs. And everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Rest, angel. I’ve got the world in my arms — and it’s ours.”

___________________________________________________________

[boydepartment]

“your new hair is nice.” - jay park x reader

a/n: this is a one shot from this ask :3 i was really excited to write it here you goooooo <3

warnings: angst to comfort! nothing too insane!! reader is stressed and snaps. jay is pretty much an angel

WC- 500-700

MASTERLIST

when you got home you saw that the dishes still weren’t done and the blankets on the sofa weren’t folded. you sighed and walked to the kitchen- head in hands. all you asked was for jay to clean up just a little bit.

you had classes plus extra tutoring this day and just wanted a nice clean house to go home to.

your boyfriend clearly did not do that.

you sighed and leaned against the counter looking at the dishes, “fuck…” mumbling you rolled your sleeves up and started cleaning. your hands hurt from writing notes and typing but what needs to be done- needs to be done.

“hey baby welcome home!” jay walked into the kitchen, new hair, he looked good, great even. but you were upset.

“hi.” you said quickly and continued to do the dishes. jay frowned and walked closer to you, “don’t.” you interrupted him.

“i’m upset with you right now.” you put the dish under the now steaming sink water.

jay’s brows furrowed, “why?”

“why? i asked you to do the dishes and they’re still not done? usually you’re not like this so i don’t understand why they aren’t done.” you snapped looking at him now. jay looked at you astonished.

“i texted you saying i had work today and my hair appointment.” jay said, “i literally texted you that when i got home i would do it.”

you put the damp towel on your shoulder, “okay then how come i come home and you’re not doing shit?!”

jay tried not to raise his voice or get mad. he understood that school was stressing you out. he would never blame you for that.

“i just changed into my indoor clothes. i was about to walk into the kitchen to start the chores.” he spoke calmly.

“fine then you fucking do it im going to take a shower.” you snapped again and walked to your guys’ room. you felt tears weld in your eyes, you didn’t mean to snap at him. you didn’t know why you were like this right now.

sighing again you went to the bathroom to shower and you started to full on cry. jay was always a good boyfriend. calm, puts up with you, never hurts you, cooks, cleans, everything. you at some point even thought about marrying him.

the thought made you cry harder, he would never want to marry you after this.

when you got out of the shower you got dressed and went to the hall closet to grab and extra blanket. you could just sleep on the throw pillows.

your shared bedroom door was cracked open and jay was already in bed.

you frowned and went to the couch, it was almost an unspoken thing to punish yourself.

when you got to the couch you bundled yourself up and faced the cushion. your back facing the open end of the couch and you started crying again.

you felt so bad snapping at him. it wasn’t his fault at all, it really was just a misunderstanding.

you sniffled a bit and tried to fall asleep.

you were startled when a soft comforting hand was rubbing your back, you shot up and looked at him.

“jay?”

jay looked at you, your hair sticking out everywhere, eyes puffy and red from crying. jay still thought you looked beautiful.

“baby what’re you doing sleeping out here?” he asked softly, “it’s too cold to sleep on the couch.”

you shook your head no and started crying again, jay caught your tears instantly.

“y/n… it’s okay… stop crying.” your boyfriend wiped your tears away, “i know it’s stressful right now…”

“i didn’t mean to snap at you i’m so sorry.” you blubbered out, “you’re never going to want to marry me after this…”

jay felt himself chuckle, “i still want to baby.”

you shook your head still crying, “i’m sorry.”

jay nodded, “i forgive you baby…” he sleepily smiled and kissed your forehead, “next time i’ll call you and we won’t have any misunderstandings okay?”

you hummed in agreement and looked at him, “your new hair is nice…” you mumbled, you were starting to calm down. your drowsiness staring to take over

jay chuckled and scooped you up, “you can compliment it more in our bed.”

you hugged him close to you as he carried you back to bed.