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hxxsxxng · 3 days ago

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Do You Believe in Fate? s.jy

「pairing」 : childhoodbestfriend!jake x afab!reader

「synopsis」 : read the preview here

「word count」 : 15.3k

「genre」 : A lot of angst, smut, somewhat fluff, college au

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! cursing, lot of nicknames, mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, hangover, poor mental state, kissing, cuddling, alcoholism, toxic friends (not jake), teasing, crying, begging, distress, groping (consentual), unprotected sex, pulling out, loss of virginity, lowkey size kink, oral (m and f recieving), titty sucking, sharing a bath tub, mentions of hospitalizations, implications of potential death, depression. this is a repost

「authors note」 : i want to thank everyone for motivating me to finish this story and writing this was truly an experience that will effect me as a writer moving forward. i am tagging all of my mutuals so hopefully i could get some feed back! i love every last one of you

「taglist」 : @jakeflvrz - @simhinata - @eternality - @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby - @jakesangel - @yjwsgf - @diorsyun-deactivated20241118 - @en-ner-jay - @yeonzzzn - @hoonieesm - @hoonheepretty - @jaysupremacy - @cherry-park - @heeslomll - @alvojake - @taeghi - @dollyyuen - @sumzysworld - @wonsbaer - @simpjay - @sjylouvre - @starboimoon - @blurryriki - @yzzyhee - @sincerelyrki - @hoonven - @heeseungsbm

It was the summer before me and Jake’s junior year of university. We have been working all summer and it’s another other day at the office. Putting in check information for the bank was a lot more boring than I expected . Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat. There was no time to do anything else. We were always told that if we went to college, we would have a good job. That proved to be wrong.

Both Jake and I are going through college together, though he landed a way better paying job than I did. When it comes to bills, he ends up having to pay more than me, but he swears up and down that it is not a big deal.

I set down my mug. I hear my phone ring. It’s Jake. “Hello?” he should be at work. “Hey Pumpkin, I got out early today, were there any groceries that we needed?”

“Oh, no I can’t think of anything.” “Okay, Stay safe, I will see you later.”

Jake never really got time off of work but when he did, I usually tried to stay out of his hair and let him relax. I just continued to run reports, pretty much twiddling my thumbs until the clock struck 5 and I would make my way out of this hell hole.

Traffic was terrible as usual. A usually 7 minute drive turned into an hour. Days like this I just want to get home and throw all my stuff on the ground and lock myself away in my room. Maybe watch some TV. Or listen to some music while my computer is hooked up to it. Anything that distracts from knowing I have to go back to the job I hate the next day. My thoughts are interrupted by a honk coming from behind me. The light turns green. Thank God. But as soon as I pull away from the curb, a car pulls out in front of me. Damn those stupid drivers. I don’t even know how many times this month I’ve had to pull over so they could let someone pass. It isn’t worth getting into a fight with them about. I try to ignore them.

I made it back to our house just in time for the sun to still be out. I made way into the house and Jake was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sight. His after work routine typically consists of cracking open a cold one and playing his computer. “Hey princess” he greeted me.

I stand at the front door, taking off my shoes and hanging my keys on the rack. “What has you in a good mood all of a sudden” I ask suspiciously.

“Well since I got off work early, I figured i’d come home and suprise you with dinner since you just been eating so much take out recently” he replied nonchalantly. The thought makes me sick. “You didn’t need to do that Jake.” “Oh yes, I did. You haven’t been cooking for yourself for a couple months now. I wanted to show you how much your best friend cares about you” he says.

Reguardless of what I say, the food is made and there is no taking it back. I guess I can’t really argue with him over it.

“And besides, I know you have missed your mom cooking pasta for us when we would go to her house in Australia, I figured I should make some do you instead” he adds.

I slowly approach the table. He is still finishing up plating everything. He looks up at me and smiles. “It smells good” I say flatly. He takes off the oven mitts and wipes his hands on it. He sets my plate down in front of me and he pulls out the chair to my right and takes a seat.

“So how was your day Jake?” I asked awkwardly. He starts digging in and responds, “Not too bad. What about yours?”

“Same shit different day. Boss is always yelling at me and the company keeps treating me like garbage even though I am the only one who actually gives a fuck.” I complained, eating a piece of garlic toast. It tasted good, surprisingly good, considering the amount of spices he used.

“Well I am glad it’s Friday so you can take some time to unwind over the weekend” he attempts to comfort me but at this point i’m too tired.

“I guess.” I poke at my food a little bit. Why does Jake’s job seem so perfect? he easily makes twice as what I make and I rarely hear him complain about working either.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, I am not going to force you.” I guess Jake noticed me being hesitant about eating the rest of my meal.

“It’s not that I don’t want to eat it’s just that I’m really stressed and I don’t want to keep you here listening to me complain about the same things over and over again”

“Look at me” he said. I slowly lift my head for my eyes to meet with his. “I promise I will never get tired of listening to you” he reassured.

There he goes again, sending those butterflies flapping in my stomach. I don’t understand why he is so gentle and compassionate. It gives me goosebumps. I decide I might as well stop procrastinating and start enjoying the evening. “Thank you” I say, giving him a small smile. His face immediately lit up. It’s kind of cute. The rest of dinner went rather smoothly. Jake kept the conversation going, mostly talking about my day and what his was about, and then we would drift off into silence. He looked so relaxed and calm that I felt completely at ease. Even if I knew I should feel bad for keeping him up with my whining, I couldn’t bring myself to.

I stand up from the table and wash my plate. “I don’t know if anyone told you today, but you look gorgeous as always” he sneaks up behind me. “You don’t look too bad your self Jakey” I returned. My face was already a dark hue of red.

I decided maybe tonight I won’t rot away in my room. It’s a Friday night, I’ll have a little bit of fun. Still inside the house though. It is probably too cold outside anyway. I realize I am still in my work clothes. I return to my room to take them off and throw on my most comfortable pair of shorts and a talk top and take my Nintendo Switch to the living room.

Jake was already waiting there for me. He had a bottle of wine and 2 empty glasses. He looked up when I entered and smiled. I gave a shy smile and sat down next to him. He pulled me closer to him, pressing himself against me. Our legs intertwined under the couch. For a moment I forgot about the work situation and the world. In that moment it just felt nice to sit close to someone who cared for me unconditionally.

“What were you wanting to play?” he breaks the silence. “I was thinking we could play some Mario Kart” I suggested.

“Yeah we can, but you already know I’m gonna kick your ass”. He loves teasing me. I punched his shoulder and chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~

He is in my bed. I just woke up and he is in my bed. I don’t know how to react. Maybe I drank a little too much? I really don’t remember anything after playing a few rounds of Mario Kart. He looks so peaceful. His dark brown hair all tangled up on the pillow. The way his biceps look in his black tank top. He doesn’t snore, but the way he breathes when he sleeps is very cute. There is a slight hint of stubble on his chin, almost like he hasn’t shaved in awhile. His lips are slightly parted. His face shows such contentment and relaxation. He looks so damn beautiful. I have to admit he is pretty attractive and I think he knows it. And I can’t help but wonder about what would happen if I leaned forward and kissed him. His soft lips pressed up against mine. I think it would be okay. Probably wouldn’t hurt. Scratch that, it would probably hurt a lot.

I woke up surprisingly early for a Saturday morning. Usually I am in bed until noon, but it’s only 9:30. Opposite of me, Jake likes to start his weekends bright and early, so it is a bit strange that he isn’t awake by now. I won’t bother him. It’s probably better this way. I roll over onto my side facing away from him. I close my eyes trying to fall back asleep. But it seems to be impossible. My mind is too preoccupied and Jake’s body is far too close to mine for my liking. I groan quietly. It doesn’t help at all.

I crawl out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jake up. As soon as I step out of the room, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It’s my mom. I guess I hadn’t returned and of her texts last night. She asks if I have slept okay and if I’ve eaten breakfast. When she sees I haven’t. She sends me a picture of the last time I was at her house eating spaghetti. “Just eat something sweetheart and take care of yourself” she reminds me gently. I sigh deeply before replying. “Mhmm thanks mom” I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and rummage through the fridge, hoping to find something appetizing for breakfast. As I search, I can't stop thinking about waking up next to Jake this morning. We've been best friends for so long, but recently I've started seeing him in a new light. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how considerate he is, it stirs up the feelings I've been trying to suppress. I shake my head slightly and settle on making some eggs and toast.

As I cook, memories of last night come flooding back. The wine, the laughter, the gentle way he pulled me close on the couch as we played games. My heart flutters just thinking about how natural and right it felt being cuddled up next to him. But I can't read too much into it. Jake is my oldest friend, he probably sees the intimacy as purely platonic. The sizzle of the eggs brings me back to reality. I quickly plate the food and grab a mug of coffee before heading to the living room. I'll just relax and enjoy this lazy Saturday morning.

I'm about halfway through my breakfast when I hear Jake's footsteps shuffling down the hallway. He emerges, hair sticking up adorably, letting out a big yawn. "Mornin' sunshine," he says with a sleepy grin. I feel my cheeks warm at the nickname. "Morning. I made some extra if you want it," I reply, nodding toward the kitchen. "You're the best." Jake passes over to dish up a plate, giving me a perfect view of his lean back muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. I quickly avert my eyes as he returns to the couch. As he sits next to me, our arms brush and I feel that spark of electricity again.

Jake doesn't seem to notice, just digs into his eggs happily. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks up again.

"That was a fun night last night, wasn't it?" His eyes meet mine with a warm smile. "We'll have to do it again soon." I return the smile, hoping he can't see the longing behind it. "Yeah, it was really nice." Nice to just relax and be ourselves without any expectations or pressures. Nice to feel...that close to him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jake has a friend named Jay. When Jake isn’t at work or at the house, he is most likely hanging out with Jay. Jay is a go with the flow kind of guy and was kind of a womanizer. There’s nothing wrong with it, but I try not to hang out with Jake when Jay is there for that reason.

Jake and Jay always go out for drinks on Saturday nights. I can’t remember the last time he was home on a Saturday night and I didn’t have to take care of him the next morning. He routinely stays at Jay’s house that night then gets an Uber back here the next morning.

Jake and Jay's Saturday night routine carried on like clockwork most weekends. Around 9 PM, Jay would pick Jake up and they'd head to their usual bar downtown. The two friends would drink heavily, telling outrageous stories and shamelessly checking out any attractive women who passed by.

For Jake, it was just a guys' night out away from work stress. But for Jay, it was a chance to flirt and see if he could add another notch to his bedpost. Jake didn't partake in that behavior himself, but he also didn't reproach Jay for it. He figured it was just Jay's way.

Come last call, the two would be pretty sloshed. Instead of dealing with an Uber that late, Jake would just crash at Jay's place. He'd wake up hungover the next morning and request a ride from a car service back home.

When he arrived home disheveled, I'd already have water and painkillers ready for him. I hated having to nurse him after these nights, but it was better than having Jay's leering presence around me. His constant objectification of women made me deeply uncomfortable. So I put up with Jake's hangovers to avoid that part of their friendship dynamic.

Jake opens the front door. I can hear him complaining about his headache already. He sets his keys down and immediately lays down in the couch.

"Hey babygirl, where is the aspirin? Do we have any aspirin left?" he asks groggily. A small chuckle escapes my lips before I turn around to look at him, smiling slightly. “I already got it out for you, and here is a glass of water”. His eyes are closed as I place the pills in his hand and he smiles once they make contact. “Thank you so much for taking care of me princess.” he praises as he shot the tablets into his mouth.

I giggle. This man is ridiculous. A loud yawn escapes his lips and I smile. As much as I hate seeing him like this, I am content with letting him have his fun every once in a while. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, showing off his muscular chest. I look back at his face. His eyes were opened and he noticed me staring.

“What’s wrong Princess?” he slurs. “Do I look stupid or something?” “No Jake, you look great” I reply truthfully. “You just looked a little tired is all.”

Jake rolls over on the couch and turns onto his side. “I know you’re going to tell me I should rest more, but it’s so hard to sleep when you’re not in the same room.”

“Really? You usually fall asleep within seconds. Why is that?” He shrugs. “Don’t know babe. Just don’t like being alone.” I frown. That’s true enough. Jake never really liked being by himself. Ever since we were in diapers, he had always been surrounded by people. His parents, coworkers…me.

I decide to ask something rather personal instead. Maybe that will distract us for a while. “How’s your mom doing lately? Do you miss her?” Jake doesn’t respond right away. He starts fidgeting under my gaze. His hands begin picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

“Yeah, yeah. I miss her. I wish she wouldn’t be working so much now. She used to work less back when we were high school, you know? I still get worried sometimes” he answers with a slight edge in his voice. “It’s okay Jake. You know she likes working for your dad. It helps pay for everything” I remind him softly. He nods slowly. After a few moments, he finally breaks the silence.

“Why do you ask?” I guess he was caught off guard by the question. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen them, Australia isn’t in walking distance, ya know.” I try to cheer him up.

He sighs and looks down at the couch. “I guess I just wish I was able to spend more time with her like I did when I was younger. It doesn’t matter though.” He shakes his head dismissively. “She’ll come visit whenever she can. I’m just glad we both decided to live somewhere else for college. I would definitely have missed our family trips.”

“Oh…” I bite my lip unsure what to say to comfort him. He’s always taken his mother very seriously. Even when he was young he often complained that she worked too hard and stressed herself out, which only made him madder. In all fairness, she did work extremely hard—even harder than he ever could. And now that she has found some semblance of stability, he worries that he won’t be able to provide for her the lifestyle he wanted for her.

I reach out and pat Jake's arm reassuringly. "I know how much you miss your mom. But she's doing what she needs to in order to help take care of the bills and your dad. You know she'd be here if she could."

Jake nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I just wish there was more I could do from here, instead of feeling so helpless being so far away. I know my dad would want me there as well" He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "At least I have you around. Don't know what I'd do. You kinda of bring a feeling of home to me. I hope that made sense.”

I feel my cheeks flush a little at his words. "Well, you know I'll always be here for you," I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“Thank you sweet heart.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Our parents went to University together. That’s how they met. My mom met Jake’s mom in a sociology class, and they have been best friends ever since. Being college bestfriend basically guarantees that your kid will have someone to grow up with, and they took advantage of that. He has litterally been there for every life event my mom felt was important enough to let him in on.

Though we didn’t become friends by choice, we were latched onto eachother ever since we were introduced. I remember I would ball my eyes out when even Jake got sick because it meant I couldn’t hang out with him after school or have play dates on the weekends. As we grew up, the situations weren’t as innocent. I would confide in him when I was upset, and he would hold me in his arms after my nightmares. I even found comfort in him after my numerous hearts breaks in highschool. Though none of my relationships were ever that serious, I was still unmistakably heartbroken.

Jake was never really a ladies man in highschool, or in general. He studied more on acedemics, which I guess was a good idea considering where he is now. Although I’d never said anything about it, his dating career was pretty dead for several years. In my opinion, it seemed unfair to Jake to not go on dates after highschool. While I understood why he wasn’t interested, it seemed a waste not to try. After all, I’m sure he could get any chick he wanted if he tried, I mean look at him. He had grown from a cute kid playing video games to one who had a perfect body and gorgeous features to match. So yeah, I loved that he was a boy and my friend. But there was no way I could give myself completely to such a man, especially with our history.

Jake is a lot different when I’m around, a lot more caring and loving. I’m reminded of all those times when I would find Jake crying when we came back from vacation during our sophomore year, or how he would suddenly appear at my room door at 5am looking for reassurance or help. At the time, I thought it was because he needed someone to talk to about the things troubling his mind, but now that I think about it , it’s kind of obvious he’s lonely. His dad has been in and out of the hospital recently. I don’t really want to push Jake into going into detail about his condition because it might make him emotional, but I just know that it is another thing that is weighing on him.

When I first started seeing him more and more recently, I thought maybe he wanted us to become closer friends. I mean, he was always talking about how much he adores spending time with me, and how grateful he is to me for saving him and bringing him back to life. I think the situation with his parents are weighing down on him more than I realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rhythmic tapping of rain against the window pane fills the hushed stillness of my bedroom. I lie awake, Jake's sleeping form curled up beside me, his head pillowed on my chest. His eyebrows are furrowed even in slumber, mouth turned down in a soft frown - the worry lines etched across his features never seem to fully fade these days. Gently, I brush some stray locks of hair off his forehead, my thumb tracing over the crease between his brows. Jake's been carrying the entire weight of his family's struggle on those broad shoulders.

A quiet sigh escapes his lips and he burrows deeper into my side, one arm slinging possessively over my waist. We've been a tangle of limbs like this more nights than not recently. After the latest bout of bad news about his dad, Jake sought me out like a man wandering through the desert in desperate need of water. I remember the rawness in his voice as he begged to stay in his room, to be held and comforted, the same way I always have. Whatever Jake needs from me, he'll never be turned away.

Trailing my fingers through Jake's hair, I allow myself to drink in every detail of him in this rare moment of peace. The slight upturn of his perfectly sloped nose. The way his plump lips are parted just enough to allow shallow puffs of breath to ghost across my skin. He really is beautiful in the most masculine, rugged way. Not that I'd ever say that out loud - it would be mortifying if Jake caught me ogling him like some lovesick fool. Then again, I've been a lovesick fool for the better part of a decade when it comes to him.

Lost in the flow of my thoughts, I don't even register the soft snuffling noises at first. It's only when Jake's eyelashes start fluttering that I glance down to find him blinking up at me groggily. Without a word, he shifts until his head is cradled in the crook of my neck, placing a slow, scorching kiss to the exposed skin of the side of my neck.

The world seems to screech to a halt. That...was definitely intentional. Purposefully intimate. There's no way it was an accident or a brief moment of sleep-hazy confusion. Not with the way Jake's pupils are blown wide, his lips parting to reveal the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them instinctively.

Just as quickly as the spark ignited, Jake seems to deflate, burying his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder with a muffled whimper. His hands are fisting in the fabric of my sleep shirt, clutching me with a white-knuckled grip like I'm his lifeline back to the surface. Like if he doesn't hold on, he might drown. "Hey hey hey…" I gently stroke the length of his spine calming him. "You're okay now, everything is alright, relax..." Jake's breathing gradually slows. Gradually, he begins to relax, his fingers slackening their death grip in my shirt.

A few moments pass in silence before he lifts his head and looks directly at me. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from all the crying. They’re red and glassy, a stark contrast to his usually flawless complexion. "Sorry," he murmurs. I shrug slightly. "Don't apologize." After a few sniffles, I feel his breathing become more consistent and his face is dry. He starts to do that cute breathing that I talked about. After I realized that he has met some sort of peace and fell asleep, I fell asleep soon after.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light filters in through the cracks of my blinds, shining over Jake's sleeping body in a soft glow. My eyes trace the line of his jawbone, the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest as he breathes. He looks so tranquil like this.

Jake smells so fucking good. If I could lay on his chest and take it his scent all day, I really would. Not to mention his face is extremely handsome. He has the face that other guys wish they had. It’s very obvious he takes care of himself.

I can't stop replaying that moment from last night over and over in my mind. The heat of Jake's lips pressing against the skin of my neck. Part of me was desperate to surge forward then and seal my mouth over Jake's, to finally give in to the magnetic pull that's been drawing me to him.

But I didn't. I couldn't. Because I'm also terrified of what exploring these feelings could mean for our relationship.

Losing him isn't an option I can fathom. And he seemed to make the same choice in that moment by turning away, burying his face against my neck with a whimper that could have been either anguished or relieved.

We're cowards, the two of us. Content to dance around the fire instead of being set ablaze

Part of me wonders if Jake was hoping for something in return. Maybe a kiss? Maybe he did it to show it trust and comfort for me. He knows what he is doing. The moment his lips touched my neck, my whole body shivered. I wanted more but I contained myself.

My body still hums with the memory of his kiss, nerves tingling with equal parts of dread. I want to reach out and trail my fingertips over the golden skin of his forearm, to breathe him in and see if he tastes how I've imagined on my tongue.

How many more moments like last night can I survive before the truth comes out? I don't have the answers. All I know is that I'm still undeniably his - body, mind and heart.

It has been too many nights where I imagine his lips against mine. The way he chills my spine when whispers in my ear makes me crave hearing his voice. I wonder what he would be like in a relationship with me, he treats me like a princess already, I don’t know how much better it could get.

My mind drifts to memories of him holding me tight when I was upset, his muscular arms engulfing me in a warm embrace. The feeling of safety and contentment that would wash over me in those moments. If I could experience that every night by his side, it might just be pure bliss.

I fantasize about waking up intertwined with Jake, our legs tangled together as we trade kisses and touches unhurried by the outside world. Combing my fingers through his bed hair while he peppers light kisses along my jawline.

Maybe there could be slowmake-out sessions on the couch, all heated caresses and desperate roaming hands before things inevitably progress further. I would lavish every sculpted line of Jake's body with devoted attention. I imagine he would be an attentive, generous lover, just as giving in the bedroom as he is in every other aspect of his life.

I also can’t get over the mental hurdle that maybe it is kind of gross that I see my bestfriend this way. I could easily mistake all of the kind things he does and how he treats me as something more than what he intends it to be, and that would make me uneasy. I have never done anything sexual with him and anything that would imply sexual attraction, yet I am still here wondering what it is like to have sex with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I really need to get my feelings sorted out soon because they are just going to keep building up until they eventually burst, and I really don’t want Jake to witness that.The week went the same again. and again. and again. Wake up, go to work, do nothing after. But recently, Jake got a promotion at his job, which was grounds for celebration.

The local diner is busy with the lunch crowd, the air thick with aromas of burgers sizzling on the griddle and fresh baked pie. Jake and I slip into our usual corner booth, the cracked vinyl cushions molding to our forms like old friends. This place has been our go to spot since we started university here. We've shared so many moments in this very booth over the years. Happy celebrations or acing a big exam.

Which is why the thick tension clouding the air between us right now feels so alien. Instead of our usual easy camaraderie, I can barely look at Jake without my pulse kicking up. The memory of his firm chest brushing mine, those plush lips just a table length away, has my skin flushing hot. I squeeze my thighs together secretly, desperate for any kind of friction to alleviate the slow burn of arousal low in my belly.

Just being this close to Jake is enough to have that want unfolding all over again. Filling my head with flashes of how it could feel to finally give in - his weight blanketing me, our bodies moving together in a sinuous rhythm as his mouth trails searing kisses along my neck. "Hey." Jake's low rumble jolts me out of the vivid fantasy.

"You're zoning out, sweetheart. Everything okay?" My cheeks flame darker, that suddenly seems too intimate. I duck my head, but not before catching the unmistakable smirk curling at the corners of Jake's lips. That insufferable, cocky smirk he knows drives me crazy. I want to kiss it off his stupidly perfect face. Or maybe bite at the sharp line of his jaw, put that arrogant look to better use while I'm straddling his lap and--

"Fine," I mumble, hooking a loose strand of hair behind my ear to avoid meeting Jake's eyes. The small movement causes our elbows to brush together on the tabletop. His skin is so soft. Jake's brow furrows, like he doesn't miss the way I've gone tense and flustered all over again. Before I can blink, his hand is covering mine. Those long fingers tenderly stroking along my knuckles, smoothing over my suddenly clammy skin.

Slowly, purposefully, Jake tugs my hand closer until my palm is cupping his scruffy jaw. I suck in a sharp, shaky breath at the contact, at being able to feel the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against my sensitive skin. Jake holds me there for a moment, those meltingly warm eyes boring into mine like he's trying to read my mind.

Then, in the most tempting act of torture imaginable, Jake presses his lips to my wrist in the barest brush of mouth against pulse point. I swear I could die right then and there. He slowly pulls away, looking up to meet my eyes once again. Our gaze meets, intense and lustful, filled with a hunger that only he knows how to create. This feels so wrong, so dangerous. The fact he's staring down at my lips, licking his subconsciously causes a slight hitch in my breathing. A tiny part of me wants to lean forward and press my lips to his. But I stop the impulse with the thought of what we did last night, and the consequences of getting caught again.

Instead, I let out a sigh and break eye contact before pulling my hand away and placing my elbow on the table. I rub my thumb across my wrist absentmindedly while avoiding Jake's gaze, the words I want to say stuck somewhere inside my throat like rocks. There isn't anything I can do. What I have with Jake is different now. I'm scared shitless to tell him how I truly feel.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Jake asks, worry laced into his tone. He places a hand on my thigh, making me jump slightly. “It’s nothing, really” I lied. The server comes over to the table to take our order. “What could I get started for you to drink” he says.

Our meal goes by normally, Jake pretending that he had done nothing earlier. Afterward, we head home, the silence thickening the further into town we get. There’s nothing for me to say, no reason to prolong this conversation I’m dreading anymore. He must sense my sudden change of mood. He drops his arm from around my shoulders and lets his hand fall limply back onto his knee.

We walk silently in the direction of our house. Neither of us speaking. It’s almost as if we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move. I have an overwhelming urge to turn to him and kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t stop thinking about Jake. He is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Over the past few weeks, I feel like he has become a lot more touchy, which don’t really mind. He smiles for a little longer when we eat together. We have slept in each others room a lot more often than before. I may just be over analyzing it.

Jake is going out with Jay again. As usual, I don’t plan on him coming home tonight, and I will wake up to a hungover Jake. Jay isn’t really the friend to take care of you when you feel ill, so that responsibility is left on me.

I hate to admit, but when Jake isn’t home for a night, I fight the urge to sleep in his bed. I have been sleeping in his bed with him so often that it leaves me in withdrawal when we aren’t in the same bed.

Just being in his room, his scent diffused in the air, it makes me miss him so much more. Even without thinking about the fact that it is his room, the bed is so much more comfortable than mine, which is all the better reason to sleep there.

I walk in, already in my shorts and t-shirt, and wonder around. He has the picture of us that his mom took when we were first leaving for Korea framed on his nightstand.

I pick it up and examine it closely. It is the one photo where we didn’t appear stiff. I remember the day clearly; I was standing with him, grinning broadly. I never expected to smile so much when I was young, but my memories of our trip leave a bright happy feeling inside my stomach.

I set the photo back down and I lift the blanket from the corner of the bed. I slide into the bed, laying on his side like I usually do when he isn’t here. I instantly melt into the sheets. I scroll on my phone whilst fighting my eyelids to stay awake, but eventually I fall asleep prematurely.

Jake usually keeps his room pretty cool, which calls for cuddling closely under the blankets. In the middle of my sleep, I am shot awake when my cold limbs are instantly warmed by an unexpected sensation. Why was Jake home?

Jake continues to get comfortable under the blanket, not even batting an eye at the fact that I was just sleeping in his bed. I pull him closer by his waist to fulfill the rest of the warmth that my body craves.

“Why are you shivering sweetheart, you could have turned on the heater.” he worries.

“I wanted the temperature to be tolerable when you got back in the morning” such a stupid explanation. “Speaking of, why are you here right now? what happened to Jay’s?” I questioned, completely forgetting how we got into this situation in the first place.

“Jay was feeling ill so we called it a night pretty early, I only got three shots down.”

Jake runs a lazy finger over my hip bone and leans in to nuzzle the crook of my neck. Shit. He’ll notice the way I react to his touches and I won’t be able to explain myself. Fuck.

“I thought I would come to my room and catch up on sleep but look what we have here instead” he says with that stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh- oh I’m sorry.” I slowly pull away from him to make way back to my room. “No babe, please don’t go, I want you to stay” he begs while keeping our fingers latched to keep our extended arms together. He then latched his hand around my wrist to slowly pull me back down to his level on the bed. It’s all happening too fast. He uses the same hand to comb his fingers through the strands at the bottom of my hair on the back of my head, and keeps his hand there entangled. He uses his hand to guide my head into a sensual kiss. He gently pressed his lips against mine. So plump, so dreamy. I reciprocated the kiss instantly, matching his pace and moving our lips in sync so perfectly. The way our lips intertwined so naturally gave me actual chills.

After giving me what I have dreamt about for years, he pulls away, leaving a string of saliva to connect our lips. He looks into my eyes, his pupils as voids. “Please stay” he whispers again. I nod dumbly, my brain still short circuiting as Jake bites is bottom lip. He’s so fucking beautiful, my eyes are practically burning holes into his lips.

His fingers gently run over my cheekbone, lingering on my jawline, tracing along my nose. “How did I ever deserve someone as beautiful as you?” he murmurs. His voice is full of admiration and love and affection. He trails his fingers along my jaw, pausing to lightly graze my collar bone, making goosebumps erupt across my skin. The heat radiating off Jake’s body is practically burning me alive.

Without thinking about it for a second longer, I close the gap between our lips again. We moved in sync, in harmony. It feels like my lips were only made to kiss his. He rests his free hand on the side of my face and uses it as grip to deepen the kiss. Kissing him I had a sense of saftey. The longer our lips were together, the more open I was to his attempts at adding tongue into the mixture. It was a sloppy wet mess, but is all I have ever wanted.

I slide my hand between out warm bodies and feel across his obvious bulge in his boxers. He instantly let out a groan when I took his imprint into my palm. I stroked it gently as we continued with intertwined tongues. His grunts and breathlessness was insanely arousing.

It was clear that we were both extremely sleepy. After a few more minutes of kissing, we eventually pulled away, with no words spoken.

I try my best to hold in my moans as the warmness travels up my body like lava. He stops tracing my collarbone to trail his hands up the side of my body, stopping to stroke a line of soft kisses along the side of my neck.

My hands grasp tightly at the material covering Jake’s shoulder blades and I use that leverage to get back under the blankets with him. We both face eachother, with our legs crossing randomly over one another. He once again rests his head in the crook of my neck, leaving a kiss like he did once before. Only this time, I know his true intention.

~~~~~~~~~

The fall semester is starting back up again. Junior year, both is our schedules are jammed packed with upper division classes. Having to balance so many classes and still having to work to keep up with the bills for the house, Jake and I hardly see each other. Even though I love spending every single day with him, I feel like I’m living with a ghost whenever I see his empty seat. When I wake up every morning to find him gone, my heart starts to ache. It hurts knowing that we might not spend as much time together. I know that the sooner that this semester ends, the easier everything will be.

The end of the semester wasn’t going to be soon though, it’s barely September. I’ve decided to try and set a study date with Jake and make sure nothing was overlapping the times. We eventually agreed apon Thursday night after he got off of his afternoon job. Maybe around 8 o’clock. I was getting a head start on my Statistics work before he showed up because I knew it would take me a while. He eventually showed up close to 8:30.

I had my headphone covering my ears, shoulders slumped over my desk, and he comes up behind me and take my shoulders in his hands and sensually massages. “Ah thank youuuu~~~ my muscles are tight” I jumped at the unexpected pressure. He drives his thumbs a little bit deeper into my blades and slides his straight arms down my stomach for a hug. “I missed you” he griped with puppy dog eyes, resting his head on my shoulder. I take off my headphone and hold both of his forearms and pull him deeper into this awkwardly positioned hug.

After a few seconds he pulls away and grabs out his bag with his laptop, and runs to his room to grab his chair to pull up next to mine. I was still seated, watching, unable to take my eyes off him. He settles himself and puts the laptop on his knees in front of him. He opens his notebook, and turns the page to the worksheet for this month. My fingers naturally find their way to his back and scratch gently while he looks over his work. They made their way up his clothed back and into his hair and I ran them through this tangled hair. He let out a sigh of fufillment and he allows himself self to close his eyes to fully take in the relaxing feeling. He breaths in deeply and slowly, taking in my coconut scent.

“Fuck it” he says under his breath.

He turns in my directed and crashed his lips into mine with no hesitation. He wraps his arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. I was startled at the quick change in plans but my lips soon melted into his and I was under his control. My tongue dances along his bottom lip, asking for entrance as he obliges and gives access. He lifts me from my chair and pulls me over to straddle his thighs.

He guides his lips to mine again, running his hands down my back as he pushes me lower into his lap. I wrap my legs slightly around his waist for some sense of support. The sensual make out and lap straddling goes on and on, until he breaks away slightly to speak, “You can move if you want sweetheart”.

He reconnects our lips and I find myself needing any sort of friction to ease the pressure building between my legs. Subconsciously grinding my core over his thigh slowly. I bite down on his lower lip causing him to suck on my tongue immediately as a response. God, he tastes so good, like the cocoa butter lip balm I got him for his birthday.

I continue grinding over his thighs picking up the aggressiveness, as he continues to run his hands through my hair. “Feeling desperate, darling?” he teases, smirking as he tries to pull me back into a kiss. “Shut up” I harden my fist and hit the front of his shoulder. He always finds a way to tease me. He chuckles as we connect our lips once again.

He slides both of his hands under my thighs stands up from his chair, and I wrap my legs around his body as he carries me to the bed. He slowly lays me down on my back with my legs still wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t break the kiss but as soon as he sets me down, I can feel his erection bulging through his pants rubbing against me sweet spot. We stop kissing momentarily as he looks at me, with lust filled eyes. He lets one of his hands rest on my chest, while the other traces along the side of my neck to my chin, tilting my head upward and pressing his forehead against mine. “Look at how gorgeous you are right now,” he says with pure adoration. “I can’t help myself when I’m with you.” A sudden surge of desire hits me and my hands grip his hips tighter as he starts to trail kisses on my jawline. I can feel an undeniable wetness spreading in my panties. I am becoming desperate.

I placed my hands at the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it up, but he finished the job and lifted it over his head and threw it to the side. I have seen Jake shirtless a million times over but this time is different. It feels more intimate than the last ones I have seen. I felt my throat tighten as my eyes were drawn to his chest which looked absolutely flawless. “So beautiful” I whisper and I trace my fingers over his abs and chest. His body looks perfectly carved and sculpted by a god. “It’s all for you, baby” he cooed.

I reach my arms around his back and gently dig my nails into his skin as he continues to kiss me. He grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head, revealing my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra since I had been home all afternoon, and I definitely wasn’t expecting this. As soon as he sees them, he takes one of them in his hand. He holds my right breast in his palm and gently rubs it between his thumb and index finger.

His gaze remains focused on my chest as his mouth begins to travel down, taking his time to enjoy each and every piece of my body. He stops to give me another kiss before placing his lips on my nipple. He sucks on my nipple whilst his teeth nipped at my flesh, causing me to moan lowly. I grabbed his hair pulling him closer to me. I grind my pelvis onto his dick, eliciting a groan and he removes his mouth, making a ‘pop’ sound, to look at his next target intensely. He took my other breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my nipple and softly sucking, making me arch my back and having a moan escape my lips. Jake trails his hands down my waist while keeping his mouth latched to me.

His fingers went into the top of my sweatpants and I stopped him. “I have never done this before” I admitted. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions. How could I ever want him to stop? He is the only person I have ever imagined losing my virginity to. That aside I simply answer “No, Jakey, I trust you”

He continues to pull me pants down and off my legs and throws it to the side like he did with the other articles of clothing. He licks up my neck and comes to my ear. “I have never done this either, we can learn together” he whispered. Hearing this made my noticibly more wet, the way he whispers into my ear raises every single hair on my body. The thought of us having our first times with each other made this whole so much more meaningful and made me a lot less hesitant.

The only thing I have left on are my black panties and Jake looks like he is a man with a mission. I grab his bulge through his jeans and gently massage. He becomes a groaning mess as I palm his desperate tip. He is barely even able to keep his lips a decent distance apart for me to kiss him. “Fuuuck your hand feels so good” I take my other hand to start unbuckling his jeans, which he seems to have no problem with.

I pulled the belt off and unbuttoned his jeans and pulls them down, to where he took them all the way off. All he has left is his boxers. I can clearly see the imprint of he large cock through the thin fabric. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Does it look too big?, we can stop now if we need to” he questioned, seeing the fear on my face. I gulped and said “No, I can take it.”

I continued stroking through his boxers and he moved my panties to the side and rubbed gently on my folds. I gasped at the feeling. The better it started to feel, the less and less I was able to focus on Jake and more on myself. He had me wrapped around his finger. No amount of masturbating could compare to the way he is making me feel within these few minutes.

He slid his fingers down my clit and inserted one. He pumped it in and out until I felt that I was ready for more. Then 2. It hurt a little more but I slowly got used to it. He leaned his head down while his fingers still stuffed me and started leaving kisses on my clit. For having so little experience, he worked his finger and tongue like a professional. The way his tongue danced across my sensitive bud made my body shutter, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“I love the sounds of your whimpers” he moaned against my clit teasing me. I couldn’t even respond. My breathing quickened, and the more his fingers fucked me, the more I could tell how wet I was getting. I whimpered again and I gripped his hair signaling how good he was making me feel. “It tastes just as sweet as I imagined” he praised. He has imagined this before? What else has he imagined?

His fingers slowed down and he slipped two inside of me simultaneously. My hips bucked up and I let out a small gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He continued working his fingers inside of me. He was eating like a man who hadn’t seen a meal in a week.

“I want to taste you now.” I protest, pulling his face up for a kiss. His eyes look like he is drunk as his tongue swirled with mine and he gave me a slow deep kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, then bit me, and finally opened his mouth and licked my tongue with his. He pulls away and allows me to pull his boxers past his hips and onto the ground. His dick sprung out. God, it was a lot thicker than I imagined.

I take the base of it and put my lips against the tip, swirling my tongue around. His muscular hand combs through the top of my hair and gently grips it as I begin to take more of his length in my mouth. I could feel it sliding smoothly in and out of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he guides me to take more in moderation. “God yes baby, that’s it” he encouraged. I looked up at him, the room filled with breathy moans and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I felt the waves of his voice vibrating through my lips as he spoke, causing goosebumps to erupt across my entire body. I could feel my juices flowing through my pussy and down my belly.

I continue sucking him until he is almost completely buried inside my mouth. He leans down placing his lips beside my ear. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer” he whispers, making me smile.

He slowly pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts me back onto the bed. I use my arms to cover my chest, I am a little nervous. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Don’t hide yourself, you look perfect darling” he said proceeding to take my tongue in his mouth. God this man loves using his tongue. I have never felt this type of intimacy before, and to think I am covering that ground with my bestfriend, was not how I thought it was going to go to say the least.

He brushes his tip in between my folds, spreading my wetness around. “Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop here, just say the words and I will stop” “Please keep going” I am practically begging. He seems to enjoy my obvious desperation. He guide the tip in slowly, trying not to overwhelm me. He goes in a little deeper. I wince in pain. “Ah baby go a little slower” I pleaded. I didn’t want him to stop but it was definitely starting to hurt. He held the same spot for a few more seconds, then slowly pushed more in. I have gotten used to the stinging, as it slowly turns to pleasure.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking tight” Jake praises. He was getting lost in his own world since he has never felt a warm pussy wrapped aroung his dick before, especially not one like mine. I felt his tip hit the enterance of my cervix. He bottomed out. He didn’t move. He didn’t even want to move, he was just enjoying the moment of his cock being buried deep inside his bestfriend. “You ok babe?” he asked, concerned by the lack of movement from me. “Yeah, just give me a second” I replied, attempting to get myself under control.

I began to relax, letting the warmth envelop my entire body. I signal that his is able to move. He slowly pulls his cock out of my cunt, and immediately pushes it back in. He rests both of his arms next to my face and comes down to kiss me. I can see the faint beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “You do not know how long I have been wanting to do this” He whispered into my ear. Once again, Jakes words send a tingle down my spine. He instantly latched himself onto my neck, sucking harshly while still keeping a slow pace down below. I grip his brown head of hair as he leaves purple marks on my skin, bruising my neck. He pulls out and goes back in, this time at a consistent rate.

Our torsos are in complete contact and he sets both of his hands under my back. I wrap my legs around his waist to allow him deeper access, which he so desperately needed. His lips were locked with mine. Our tongues were dancing along with each other as well as our chests. Every time he would suck on my lower lip, I moan against his lips.

“This is what I have been dreaming about” He says breaking away and kissing my nose. He finds me comfortable with his picking up the pace, and he did with no hesitation. He nuzzles into my neck with his hair partially resting on my face. There was no pain left to feel and my whole body was washed over with pleasure. His length fit so perfectly into my warm cunt, like we were make to only fuck eachother.

Jake head still right next to mine, I turn my head and whisper “Jakey, it feels so gooood~~~~” with inconsistency in my breathing. Jake’s ears were pleasured as if he were listening to his favorite song. He slowed down the pace, only to drive his dick deeper into my swollen cunt with each thrust. “Oh my god it’s feels so fucking good, you taking my cock like this.” he whines in my ear. He pulls away from my neck and just watching himself fuck into my pussy.

There was so much sweat on his face it was so fucking hot. It was dripping off his chin and onto my shoulder and neck. His hair was starting to get wet. He took both of my legs over his shoulders, making sure to maintain eye contact. Each stroke was deeper and deeper. Faster and faster. He was getting desperate. I don’t know how much more my inexperienced pussy can handle. He takes his thumb and gently rubs my clit. Ugh, I have never felt this sort of sensation before, being fucked at the same time.

My moans became more uncontrollable and my legs started to close in. “Fuckkkkk Jakey I am about to cum” I am on the verge of tears, overstimulated with pleasure. The pressure on my clit mixed with the repeated abuse of my cervix was enough to drive me over the edge. “Mmmmm yes doll, cum on my cock” he says lowly. My walls tighten around him and my hips are shaking. My heart is beating at 1000bpm, not a coherent thought left in my fucked-dumb mind. He practically has to pry my legs apart to maintain access to my slit. He holds my hips in place as he gives me a few more strokes. His became less and less powerful.

Once he felt his orgasm coming, he quickly pulled out of me, letting out a loud groan, and shot his strings of white cum all over my tummy and chest. The room was filled with loud pants and the scent of sex. “You are all I have ever wanted” I reach up to tuck his hair behind his ear, not minding the fact that his face was soaked. We rest our foreheads together and rub our noses across each other as we both try to catch our breath.

After a second of recovery, He runs to the bathroom and grabs a rag to clean me up. I could barely move my body, my entire entity was more than sore. It hurt to move, all I could do is lay there. Jake returns with a cold washcloth, and starts wiping off my stomach. “Do you need help getting cleaned up babe?” he asks, sitting down beside me, his arm around my naked torso. “Could we take a bath together?” I suggested.

A bath together after the fact is far more intimate, and could give us some time to talk things over. “Of course” and smiles. “I can go get it set up right now, darling, you just rest for a few minutes” He gives me a kiss on the nose and forehead before heading to run the faucet.

~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how I could let this happen. I lay on my bed rerunning all of the events writhing the last hour in my head. I really don’t know why we both allowed it to go that far. I admit, I loved every second of it, but now that it’s over, we have to deal with the effects.

Jake comes back from running the faucet. He looks tired. Maybe a bath is something we both need. “Come here sweetheart” he brings a towel and sets it on the counter.

The bathroom mirror was completely fogged over. “Are you trying to make soup out of us?” I said jokingly. “I know you like taking your showers hot, so I thought maybe it would be the same for baths” he chuckled.

I dip my toes into the half full tub. Jake was right, the temperature was just how I liked it. I held onto his shoulder as I submerge my other foot. The water lapped over the rim of the bath tub.

I keep hold onto his hand so he can guide himself into the tub, taking a lot more balance and tolerance for him to try to get used to the boiling water. “God damn, you like it hot hot” he teases though I can see him furrowing his eyebrows at the heat.

“Oh don’t be such a baby” I tease him right back. He pouts playfully. I love seeing that kind of reaction from him. “I don’t mind” he mumbles in embarrassment, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Once his feet were able to get used to the water, we both slowly sat the rest of our bodies into the tub. Jakes hair is a mess, it’s going in all different directions. I reach out to tuck some of it behind his ears for him, and then cup his face in my palm. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. He tilts his head, there he goes with those irresistible puppy dog eyes again.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks. I remain in eye contact with him. “Were you being serious? When you said you have dreamt about… that…?”

He’s silent. So much blood rushing to his face his cheeks are like strawberries. He scratched the back of his head. “I mean yeah… why wouldn’t I” he hesitated.

“I mean look at you, you are insanely attractive and we live together and have known each other forever. Of course my mind is going to wonder. It has wondered many more times than I would like to admit.” he explained himself.

Unintentionally, our bodies kept inching towards each other in that bath. I am some how a mere 6 inches away from his face. “Why haven’t you ever told me how you felt?”

“Because I was scared on how it would change our friendship”…. he had the exact same fear as I did. He was also afraid of losing one of his best friends. “If I tell you how I feel, you might think it’s weird or something” he whispers into my ear. “No I will understand, we have known each other our whole lives. How would it be weird?” I say softly.

He hesitates once again, and I can hear his heart start to pound. He closes the gap between us and rests his forehead on mine. “There is so much you don’t know” He breathes, still looking deep into my eyes. His words caused a flicker of anxiety inside of me. “There is so much I want to know about you, darling” I reassure.

“Well for starters I never thought this thing between us would become anything more than just friends” he confesses. It is hard for him to admit such things, but he has to show me that I matter more than he thinks. “It scares me, and I’m sorry that I let it go too far. I guess it’s because I’ve been waiting so long, and everything has changed so fast” he explained, he still had this worried look on his face like I were going to shut everything down. Everything had changed so fast.

“You have to stop worrying so much about me. You can trust me, okay? I’ll never judge or hate you or think any differently of you. All I want is for us to enjoy our first time together and enjoy each other. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you are to me”. I caress his face with my hands.

A small smile graces his features while he gazes back into my eyes. I lean forward and capture him in a long passionate kiss. Our lips moving in sync, tasting each others taste as if it was our first time doing it. We pull away and stare at each other. He places both of his palms on either side of my face, leaning in even closer. I place my lips in line with his.

My fingers run through his soaked hair, though I don’t know if it use from sweat or from water. “Jakey, if I am going to be honest, I have been feeling the same way. On nights where we don’t sleep in the same bed, I find myself getting less sleep and craving your warmth. I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us tonight. Admittedly, I have been wanting to do that with you for so long” I started ranting.

“When you were making love to me I felt like I was floating away and it felt so good I just wanted to stay here forever, like nothing else mattered. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to stay in this moment forever with you, but we both know that isn’t possible.” he continues, his voice cracking.

“Making love?” I chuckle. Such an interesting word choice. “Be quiet” he pushes back. “I’m just joking, but I agree”

He was clearly getting tired, letting out a yawn and fighting the force of his eyelids trying to close. “We should get to bed” I suggest. We soak the last few moments of the now comfortably hot water and get out of the tub. “You better not get water all over the floor, Jake” HE ALWAYS DOES THAT.

He grabs a towel for me and and one for himself and he wraps mine around my whole body width and pulls me for a hug. “I am glad we took a bath together sweetheart, try to get some rest” he whispers, and leaves an innocent kiss on my forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks consisted of school, work, and sleeping in the same bed with Jake pretty much every single night. We would exchange passionate kisses and I would bathe him when he was too tired from work or hanging out with Jay. And he would do the same for me. We never went as far to have sex again. We weren’t scared but we felt like we should wait.

We are on our way back to Australia for fall break. Jake will finally get to see his parents and I will get to see mine. We get to have a whole week without having to worry about responsibilities. Which I know both of us desperately need. We touch down in Australia around maybe 3pm on the first Saturday of the break. We only brought carry on luggage for convenience and time.

“Have everything?” He questioned me as we were getting out of our seats. “I think so” I smile, so excited to see my parents. We arranged for Jake’s mom to pick us up from the airport. She had a large SUV able to fit all of our stuff comfortably. Once we passed through all of the security and customs, Jake calls her to see where she is parked. On speaker I hear her say “9 rows down from the south enterance” she explains. “Thanks mom, see you in a sec” Jake says about to hang up the phone. “Thank you Mrs Sim” I make sure she hears before he presses the red button.

We hurry to get out of the packed airport so meet up with his mom. The weather was cold and misty and it was hard to see. When we finally arrived outside the south enterance, we could hardly believe what we saw. Layla comes up running at full sprint in me and Jake’s direction. She jumped up onto bother of us, layering our faces and arms with slobbery licks and he tail wagging so hard it may as well had fallen off.

Once Layla was all calmed down we put our luggage into the trunk. We swing up the door and the vehicle seems oddly empty. “Where is dad?” Jake questioned his mom. “He is getting worse…. he wasn’t able to make it today, I had to take him back to the hospital last night” she explained. I could already see the heart break in his eyes. “Oh” We packed everything up and his mom offered for me to sit in the front seat. Honestly, I wanted to sit in the back seat and comfort Jake, so I made up the excuse that Layla should sit in the front.

The mood in the car ride home was off. I don’t know if it was from the weather or his fathers health but Jake was not as energetic as he was before. I know he doesn’t deserve everything happening to his dad so I will just try to support him through it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I never really gave it much thought, but the more I put the pieces together, I think maybe the reason Jake is so insistent on getting black out drunk with Jay on the weekends may have to do with his father.

Jake has never in his life had a healthy coping mechanism. I remember a lot through out grade school, he would feel guilty or take blame for things that were not his fault, just to mediate the situation. When he did this, he did not react to the discipline very well, but it seems like he would much rather face conveniences than to start an argument over the original problem.

Jake let a lot of people take advantage of him, and it is still something that we have to work on, but knowing the situation with his dad, I know he has a lot more things to worry about now that usual.

Many of the people excluding his parents are alcoholics, any family event we went to together, the main thing being passed around was a bottle. When we were younger, things made him build resentment towards them but the older we got, the more willing he was to try alcohol, only adding more and more each time until he is where he is at now.

Jay isn’t the type of friend to stop this behavior either. I will never understand why Jake is such good friends with him cause he never seems to have the best intentions or good interest in mind. I can’t be the one to tell him that they should stop being friends cause at the end of the day, Jake’s relationship with alcohol won’t be healed in a split second.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing really eventful happened over the span of the after noon, the rain put everything to a halt. I slept in the guest bed in Jake’s house for the first night but was unable to fall asleep for the majority of the night. Jake’s mom rushed into the room around 1:30 am.

“Hey are you awake? We have to go the hospital, it’s my husband. Please wake up Jake while I grab the keys” She said with an extremely shaken voice full of urgency. I shoot out of the bed and put my shorts back on and practically run down the hallway to Jake’s room. It is locked. I bang on the door frantically. “Jake! Jake get up now we have to go” I echo through the door. Quickly after he swings open his door with his shirt in his hand, in the middle of putting it on.

The SUV was already started when we got out the front door and we ran to get into the car and soon as we sat down she reversed and tried to explain. “He slipped into a coma. They said they are trying everything to get him to wake up but they have no idea why it happened because he was in decent shape before” she says with tears forming in her eyes.

I reach up to the front seat to scratch her shoulder to try and calm her. I don’t think there is anything someone can do in this situation to calm someone in this much distress down but I tried. She is going dangerously fast down the highway. I know that she has been working hard to keep them afloat and thing we’re starting to get better. After that I couldn’t stand to listen anymore and closed my eyes hoping that by some miracle she wouldn’t end up killing us.

After what seemed like hours we reached the hospital and were quickly taken to another private room where we could talk with him alone. Of course his dad wasn’t going to be able to say anything. But Jake still wanted him to listen. He took his fathers hand a caressed his palm with his fingers while he said what he needed to say. Once he was done, I gave Jake a hug as his red face were completely covered in tears.

“He will be okay, I promise” I reassured him. We walked out of the room to discover his mom sitting next to the window, face completely void of emotion. He hasn’t spoken a word since we have gotten here.

“You know…. he was really excited for you both to come back. He was practically counting down the days” she admitted, wiping a tear from here eye. “I was so excited with him” she added. Her words shatter my heart. How is she not screaming in anger right now. Angry at the world for doing this to her innocent husband. That was something I admired about her. She was always able to contain her emotions well, almost too well.

Seeing both her and Jake in this state was absolutely terrible. I knew it would only take a miracle to fix this given his dads condition. “It’ll all be okay, Jake, don’t cry” I assure him. “It won’t, how am I supposed to deal with this? How am I supposed to go back to school without seeing him, talking to him… it hurts” “There is still a chance that he will make it Jake, don’t give up on it. I know he wants you to wait for him”

He couldn’t say anything, all he could do was bury his face into my shoulder and sob. He tried to form words, but they were only choked noises which caused him to cry even harder. “Shh its okay, I am here” I assure him. Me, Jake and his mom spent the night in the hospital. His mom slept in the room with his dad and me and Jake slept in a guest waiting room. Well, I was the only one who was able to get some sleep. Jake was up all night worrying about his father. I could hear him crying as I were trying to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks had passed and his fathers condition remained the same, and to be honest, Jake and his mom seemed like they kind of accepted that this was the way that things were going to be.

We were back at the house, his mom would just go to work and lock herself in her room until she had to go to work again and Jake and I were preparing to go back to Korea for the Winter semester.

Mrs Sim did not want to see us leave, and she made it very clear. We were her last hope with everything going on with her husband. I really wish me and Jake could stay back to support her but we have jobs and bills that we have to get back to, and life can’t just pause for us. We promised we would let her know how we are feeling, how much we missed each other and everything else that went along with saying goodbye.

We leave in 3 days, and we made it our mission to hang out with his mom as much as we could before we left. She hasn’t taken a break either… no time to her self she just has to keep working to pay for the house and the piling medical bills.

Those last few days, we took Mrs. Sim out for lunch at her favorite Thai restaurant. She seemed to genuinely smile for the first time in weeks as we joked and reminisced about times when all 4 of us were together. One night, we rented some classic movies she loved and made her favorite snacks. We cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the familiar feeling of just being together as a family again, if only briefly.

Jake and I helped around the house as much as we could - running errands, doing yard work, and cooking meals to give his mom a little respite. We made sure to soak in every moment because we didn't know when we'd all be together like that again.

~~~~~~~~~~

When it came time for our early morning departure back to Korea, Mrs. Sim took us both in for a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears. "Take care of each other," she whispered hoarsely. Jake grabs our suitcases out of the trunk and his mom pulls me to the side.

“Please promise to take care of him for me. You have always been a safe place for him, I can only imagine how he has been feeling” she begged. I held bother of her hands in the palms of mine. “I promise, Mrs Sim, I will do everything in my power to take care of him, don’t worry. You have other things to worry about” I reassure her pulling her into a hug.

Layla climbs through the back of the car from the front seat and jumps out of the trunk to say good bye, jumping all over me and Jake just like when we first arrived. “Yes you’re such a good girl” he scruffs up her ears while giving her a kiss on the forehead. I gave Layla some belly rubs before his mom guided her back into the car.

“Please text me when you board, and call me when you land, I need to know that the two of you are safe.” said his mom. “Of course” we pulled her into one last hug. “I love you guys” she sobbed “I love you too” we said in unison as we walked towards to enterance, leaving his mom in the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back home was hard for Jake. 10 hours of restlessness. The only time I saw Jake act kind of okay was at our layover in Manila. I tried to leave him be for most of the trip.

We landed at the airport in Seoul and made our way back through customs and immigration, I swear the process of getting out of the airport is more stressful than planing a trip itself. We load our things into my car, missing the excitement that Layla brought to the car ride.

Before we got into the car, Jake comes behind me and turns me around into a hug. “I am really worried about her… my parents have been together for so long I can’t imagine how she would react with out him” he cried into my arms. “Your mom is a strong woman, I know it. She has you and I know she will be able to get through it.” I rub his back and lay my head into the crook of his neck.

I walk him over to his door and open it, letting him get into is and rest, we still had a 45 minute drive back to our place. I just let him ‘rest’ his eyes the whole way and I sat in silence trying not to wake him. The ride was bumpy, or maybe I was more aware of my surroundings not given that Jake wasn’t talking my ear off the whole time. I don’t mean it as a bad thing but he does a great job at keeping me company in the car. But that element was absent this time.

We were outside of our house quicker than expected. Jake was still fast asleep, he looked up he most peaceful than I have seen him these past few weeks I really did not want to wake him up. “Jakey we’re here” I whisper and gently grip his shoulder. He groans. He untucks his arms from under his shirt and rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

We make way up to the door, he didn’t bother grabbing anything out of the car but I was completely okay with grabbing everything if it meant he would get some rest. As soon as we stepped in the door, he took off his shoes and hurried to his bedroom, he didn’t ever bother changing his clothes before plopping onto his bed in pure exhaustion.

I found myself following him to the bed and sitting on the edge and grazing his back with my fingernails. My hands made way up to his hair and I combed his strands with my fingers. He turns over to lay on his back and I sit and admire his beautiful face while his eyes are closed. So peaceful. I couldn’t fight the urge to lean down and give his a soft peck before heading back to the car.

He didn’t seem to mind, his lips were soft as they instantly melted into mine for a few seconds. He didn’t seem supprised or shocked at all. He made it feel natural. “Thank you” he said, barely audible. I leaned in for another kiss, a smile building on my face as our lips met. No verbal response was needed, my smile against his spoke for itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

We had gotten back into our normal work and school schedule following the break. I still was not seeing Jake as much as I would like and it seems like I was getting less and less information by the day on his dad, which worried me. I tried to call Mrs Sim every single day to check in and get updates, as well as update her on mine and Jake’s life. She treated me like a friend. Like a daughter. I am very thankful to be accepted by her in that way.

Jake was clearly getting more stressed with work and school and I couldn’t figure out a way to ease the stress for him, all I could do was hope that it wouldn’t end up being too much.

Mrs Sim told me briefly once while we were on a phone call that me and her call way more often that her and Jake do. Jake has always been a texter and his Mom simply had to deal with not hearing her baby boys voice as often as she would like, which is why it was weird when me and Jake were laying in my bed around 11pm and his phone starts ringing.

Both of us were on the verge of falling asleep and the light from his phone screen made the situation more uncomfortable. At first Jake just reached over and turned off the ringer.

“Hey did you even see who it was? What if it was important” I question his instinct to end the call. “Fine let me look” he groans.

He reached over and grabs his phone and looks at the screen ‘Mom’ is what it read. “Answer it!” I urged him. Jake was hesitant. I think he thought that this was going to be the call, which he has been preparing to avoid at all costs.

Instead of letting the line go to voicemail, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer if myself. “Hello Mrs Sim, is everything alright?”

“I am so glad to hear your voice. Is Jake around? It is important. Put it on speaker” she said.

“You’re on speaker” I informed her.

“Jake, your father is home, I picked him up about an hour ago. The doctor said that septic shock caused him to go into the coma, and they were able to treat the infection and keep him steady with some blood and IV fluids. He woke up yesterday and has shown no signs of complication ever since. I will take him back in a few days for testing and a check up. They saved him Jake… They saved him.” His mother explained ecstatically, crying tears of happiness.

Jake’s face immediately lit up, with what I could see from the light of the phone screen. He instantly started crying.

“Baby I wish you were here right now. he misses you so much” he claimed.

Jake couldn’t even speak through his tears and his hitched breathing. “I love you so much mom, tell dad I love him and I will see him soon”

He sets the phone down and buries his face into my chest, letting out full on sobs. the toll that this situation has taken on his body physically and mentally was very obvious and I know he has been wanting good news.

~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks had passed and we came back to Australia for the Winter break. Jake was more excited than ever. When he saw his dad get out of the car at the airport, I had never see Jake run so fast in my life. Their hug seemed like it was out of a movie and he had been latched to his dad everyday since being back at his house.

His parents kind of picked up on me and Jake’s relationship, and didn’t question why I was wanting to sleep in Jake’s room and not the guest room any more.

We were laying there facing each other, admiring each others beauty in the dim moon light shining through the blinds.

“Tell me Jake, do you believe in fate?” I questioned lowly.

He looks somewhat startled. “Y’know, I have never really thought about that. After everything that has happened this year, I think I would say that I do” he confirmed, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah I think I do too”

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fastandcarlos · 3 days ago

Text

First Newborn Moments : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: the first moments for you both after the emotional arrival of your daughter

No words could describe how you felt as your eyes glanced down to the little girl in your arms, everything that you had ever wanted. Charles was sat by your side, leaning across with wide eyes, studying the features of your daughter in awe.

“Can you believe it?” You whispered across to Charles, unable to hide the smile on your face. “She’s just so perfect, so small, and beautiful, more than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Charles nodded in agreement with you, brushing his hand over the top of her head. He didn’t know where to look as he took it all in, her brown eyes, the little dimple in her cheek, the way her mouth was slightly parted as she slept, it was all too much like a dream.

“I feel like someone’s going to come in soon and wake me up,” Charles spoke, “tell me this is all some sort of dream, I feel so lucky right now to have all of this.”

“I promise you that it’s all real,” you whispered, resting your head down against Charles’ shoulder.

It was the moment the two of you had talked about for so long during your pregnancy, wondering how it would be and how overwhelmed you’d feel. Neither of you had prepared yourselves for quite how incredible it would feel though to finally have your daughter with you.

“Can we swap for a moment?” Charles asked, desperate to have a hold of your daughter too. You nodded, watching as he nervously stretched his arms out to take her. “What do I do?” He grinned as you placed her down, scared for you to let go and let him hold her alone.

“Just make sure you support her, body and head,” you told him, placing his hands exactly where they needed to be before letting go. “See, you’re a natural.”

As you moved away, Charles’ eyes were still full of worry, slowly bringing her in towards his chest. “She looks so frail and tiny, like she could break at any moment. I can’t believe I’m actually trusted to take care of such a little human being.”

Charles had made no secret of the fact that he was scared, terrified of messing up or doing the wrong thing. You’d spent many late nights wide awake talking about his worries together, with you constantly being on hand to reassure him, reminding Charles that you both would be learning for some time, after all, no parent was perfect.

Your smile was wide as your eyes stayed with Charles, admiring how fondly he looked down at her. “She’s already relaxed in her daddy’s arms; you must be doing something right.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Charles sniggered, momentarily looking up and across at you. “I can’t wait for everyone to get here later, my brothers are going to crazy when they see how beautiful she is, they’re already slightly obsessed.”

“She has no idea how lucky she is, does she?” You chuckled, watching as your daughter’s eyes fluttered shut. “She’s got the most loving family in the world, and yet she’s got absolutely no idea who any of us actually are yet.”

Charles leant across and pressed a kiss against the side of your head. “I’m going to make sure that she grows up knowing exactly how incredible you are and how hard your body just worked to bring her into this world,” he proudly told you.

To say things didn’t quite go as well as you expected was an understatement, labour had been nothing short of a nightmare for you both. It had left Charles terrified, constantly wondering what was going to happen as midwives ran around you until your daughter arrived.

“I wish I could sleep like this,” Charles chuckled, “without a single care in the world.”

“I feel like I could sleep as well as she is right now, I’m absolutely exhausted.”

Charles’ concerned eyes immediately looked across at you, weakly smiling as he met your eyes. He could tell how sore you were, even if you weren’t going to admit it, wanting to savour every moment that you could of having your daughter there with you.

A sigh came from Charles as you let go of a yawn, trying your best to disguise it behind your hand. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll wake you if anything happens,” Charles suggested, nodding in the direction of the pillow behind you. “You need to be looking after yourself right now, you’re just as important as this one is.”

“I’ll get some rest soon, I promise. I mean, we should probably get used to the lack of sleep now, right?”

A quiet chuckle came from Charles, not wanting to disturb your daughter. His worried eyes still watched you, only relaxing when you propped yourself up and rested in the bed again, stretching your legs out to try and wake your body back up again.

“I can’t wait to take this one to the paddock, show her all the cool things that her daddy gets up to.”

Your smile was wide as Charles’ eyes lit up, excited for all the things he had to look forward to with her. “She’s going to be absolutely spoilt by everyone at that paddock, I think you’ll be a forgotten man when we take her, no one will want to pay any attention to you, just to her.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Charles proudly shrugged. “Just as long as she knows that no matter how much anyone in that paddock tells her they love her, they don’t love her anywhere near as much as we do.”

“Trust me, with the way I know you’re going to spoil her, she’s definitely going to be a daddy’s girl,” you teased, resting your hand against Charles’ shoulder. “I can already tell from the look in your eye that our little girl is going to have you absolutely wrapped around her little finger.”

Charles nodded, there was no doubt about it that your little girl was his new weakness, knowing that he would never be able to say no to her.

He couldn’t believe what he did to get so lucky, not just to have his daughter, but you as well. It was the sort of thing Charles always dreamt about, but knew would probably never come true. Only for him, it did, and it was better than he could have ever imagined.

As your daughter settled, Charles leant over once again and pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking you by surprise. “Thank you for everything, for loving me, taking care of me, and giving me the greatest gift in the world. Nothing will ever be good enough to show you how appreciative I am that you’ve just made me a dad.”

Your smile was wide as you glanced back across at Charles, “you don’t need to thank me Charles. I should be thanking you for being here, right by my side, and getting me through the last nine months. I love you.”

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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cressidagrey · 3 days ago

Text

It's a Love Story - Chapter 11 (The End)

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

I could write more, but quite frankly, I think I would kinda drag it out and the first major arc is tied up with a neat little bow! There are definitely be threads left dangling for me to pick up whenever I want to write more about Sky and Azriel, but I think around 50k is a good place to stop for now ❤️

Even the Spymaster of the Night Court paid taxes.

That was the only reason why Rhysand even found out where exactly Azriel‘s home even was.

Azriel’s home was in the outskirts of Velaris, near the mountains. A little lake cabin. Rhys hadn’t even known that Azriel owned it but apparently he did.

Rhys shouldn’t go there. He knew that.

Rhys should be giving his brother space. That was probably the least he owed him. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know Azriel was alright. That he was happy.

Rhys needed to apologise. He needed to make amends…

And Azriel was ignoring him. Mental shields as shored up as they ever had been, shoving back at Rhys at every opportunity…

He had never seen Azriel's mental shields like this before, and it concerned him. He knew Azriel was angry at him, had ever right to be angry, but Rhys hadn't expected his brother to shut him out so completely.

Reports were still arriving on his desk punctually as always. But Azriel seemed utterly uninterested in actually talking to Rhys.

It was a small comfort, knowing that Azriel was still working, but Rhysand couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt that had settled deep in his gut. He knew that he had hurt Azriel deeply, and he couldn’t blame his brother for shutting him out.

Rhys wished he could turn back time and fix things, but he had messed up terribly. He knew he had to give Azriel space, but the silence between them was deafening . It was a constant reminder of just how much damage he had caused.

As the days went on, Rhysand found himself consumed by thoughts of what he could have done…should have done… He tried reaching out to Azriel mentally, only to be rebuffed each time.

Cassian showed up alone for debriefings and if Rhys showed up at the House of Wind for Valkyrie Training, Azriel was nowhere to be seen.

So finally…Rhys had enough. So he showed up at that house.

It was a nice house too, a secluded cabin at a mountain lake. Rhys knew that he wasn’t welcome, not after everything that had passed between them, but he had to see Azriel.

Rhys raised a hand, knocking gently on the door. He could hear the faint sound of movement inside. Rhysand sighed. He should leave. He knew he should leave. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And then suddenly, to his surprise…the door opened.

“…C…Can I….can I h…help you?“

She was brown haired and short… with deep blue eyes and freckles smattering over her nose.

Rhysand looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback by her appearance. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't a small, curvy, freckled brunette.

"I, uh..." Rhysand stammered, his mind blanking. "I was looking for Azriel." he finally brought out.

The small female studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Az…Azriel's n…not h…here," she stuttered.

Rhysand's heart sank, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, desperate for any information.

The female hesitated, biting her lip slightly. She seemed to be contemplating her answer, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she finally looked back up at him, her expression unreadable. "He…He's...o…out f…for t…the d…day," she said finally, not giving him anymore than that.

Rhysand tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was difficult. He was so close to his brother, and yet so far away. "Do you know when he'll be back?" he asked sharply.

She nearly flinched away from him at that tone of voice.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but he didn't even get to that. Because some thing with wickedly sharp claws, launched itself at his head with a hissing sound.

Rhysand yelped as the mysterious creature swiped at his face, growling all the while.

"HECTOR NO!" The female shrieked.

Rhysand stumbled backwards, trying to dodge the sharp claws.

Just at that moment, he felt more than he heard his brother's arrival.

Azriel materialized between them with a loud flapping of wings, his siphons blazing. He stood protectively in front of the small female, his expression murderous.

"Hector to me," he snapped. The thing, a cat ...an incredible ugly , murderous looking cat let off Rhys with another growl and slunk back to Azriel's side, heeling like a dog. The woman quickly scooped him up in her arms.

Cassian's laughter washed over him, at that moment, as Rhys was still laying on the ground, bested by a cat .

"Taking down by a cat now, Rhysie?" Cassian asked him with a snort, offering him his hand to gain his feet.

Rhys already knew that he was never going to live this down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Azriel hissed, his voice filled with anger. His wings were spread wide, and Rhysand could see the barely contained ferocity beneath his brother's cold facade.

Rhysand winced at Azriel's harsh tone. He knew he had messed up, and he didn't blame his brother for being angry with him. "I just wanted to see you," he said, feeling small under Azriel's penetrating glare.

Azriel's expression didn't soften at his words. "You had no right," he said sharply. "You can't just show up here unannounced, Rhysand. This is my home, and you're not welcome here. You terrified Sky!"

Sky. Sky. That was the name of his brother's mate...of the pretty brunette that was standing behind him, fussing over her murderous cat.

Rhysand glanced over at Sky guiltily. "I...I'm sorry," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sky hesitated, before nodding stiffly. Her face remained guarded, her arms still wrapped protectively around the mangy cat. Rhysand couldn't help but notice how small she looked compared to Azriel's imposing form…and the absolute massive cat.

"I am sorry," he turned to his brother, swallowing. The apology wasn't enough. he knew that. And it wasn't going to fix the fact that Azriel didn't trust him anymore or... *Az. Please.*

"How did you find this house?" Azriel demanded.

"I checked the tax reports," Rhys admitted with a grimace.

Azriel's expression darkened even further, and Rhys braced himself for a reprimand. Instead, his brother let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of course you did," he said flatly. "Just can't stay out of my business, can you?"

Rhysand felt a pang in his chest at the hostility in Azriel's voice. He knew he deserved every ounce of resentment his brother felt, but it still hurt deep to hear it out loud. "I...I was worried about you," he said lamely.”I just needed to see you." he added. "To apologise."

"You don't even realise the lines you keep crossing, do you?" Cassian asked him flatly. "Ever thought about the fact that maybe you should have waited until Azriel was ready to hear you out?

Rhysand winced. Cassian's words struck a nerve, and he knew his friend was right. He had been rash and insensitive in coming here unannounced. "I...I wasn't thinking," he admitted softly.

Cassian shook his head, his expression still stern. "That's the problem, Rhys," he said bluntly. "You never seem to think these days. It's like you're so caught up in your own head that you don't consider how your actions affect those around you."

Rhysand's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. Cassian's words pierced straight through him, and he struggled to find a response. He knew he had been making mistakes, but hearing them laid out so bluntly still stung.

"What do you want?" Azriel asked him flatly. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologise," Rhys said weakly. "I...fucked up. I know that. I want to...fix things."

Azriel's face remained impassive, his eyes hard. "You can't just fix things with an apology, Rhys," He said curtly. "You crossed more than one line, and you shattered my trust. Do you really think saying sorry is enough?"

"Az," his mate said softly, her voice quiet. "H..He's blee..bleeding all over our front lawn after my cat at..attacked him. At least let him sit down and give him a healing salve…"

Azriel turned to look at his mate, his anger softening ever so slightly at the concern in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh, before nodding stiffly. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But no more than that."

Rhysand nodded gratefully, relieved that Azriel was willing to let him in, even if only slightly. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I...I really am sorry."

Azriel didn't respond, turning away from him and herded Sky and the murder cat into the house. Rhysand watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that his brother's anger was far from abated, and he knew it would take a lot more than just an apology to mend their fractured relationship.

"Come on," Cassian prodded him up.

The first thing that Rhys realised about the house Azriel shared with his mate was that it was absolutely stuffed full with books. The second was, that Azriel clearly doted on the Murder Cat that got a crystal dish with tuna on it put on the floor before Azriel even went in the direction of the healing salve, which he slapped down on the table in front of Rhysand. .

"I…I am so…sorry," Sky apologised to Rhys, bright blue eyes apologetic. "H…Hector has nev…never done anything like that before, I swear."

Yeah, somehow he doubted that. But he also doubted that it was going to help his relationship with Azriel if he was going to annoy his mate about her beastly cat. The thing had a worse personality than Amren .

"Don't worry about it," he said, with what he hoped he was a gracious smile. "I think your cat and I just got off on the wrong foot." He looked over at the cat, who was now happily devouring the tuna as if it hadn't just tried to claw his face off.

"Good Boy, Hector," Azriel said warmly.

Rhysand could just stare.

Azriel, the feared Spymaster of the Night Court, was cooing at a mangy cat like a proud parent. He never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Who knew the Spymaster had a soft spot for cats," Rhysand remarked with a faint smile. Azriel shot him a warning glare, but the sternness was lost at the tender way he was petting the cat. "I am really sorry," Rhys apologised again.

"You said so. Numerous times," Azriel shot back.

Rhysand sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew Azriel was still angry with him, but it was hard not to feel the guilt weighing down on him. "I know," he said softly. "But I want you to know that I mean it. I am sorry, Azriel. For everything."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but Rhysand could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knew his brother was struggling to forgive him, but he hoped that with time, Azriel would be able to find it in his heart to do so.

"I just want to make things right," Rhysand said earnestly. "I miss you, Az. I miss my brother."

"You'll need to decide one of those days," Azriel said sharply. "Am I your soldier or am I your brother?"

Rhysand flinched at the words, feeling the weight of the accusation hit him hard.

He had always tried to balance his role as High Lord with his relationship with his brothers, but he knew that…that he hadn’t been fair to Azriel for a long time. "You're right," he conceded quietly. "I have been treating you like my soldier instead of my brother, and that's not fair to you."

"You have been treating him absolutely deplorably," Cassian cut him off.

Rhysand hung his head, feeling the weight of his mistakes settling heavy on his shoulders. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been so caught up in my own problems and responsibilities as High Lord that I lost sight of what really matters. And I've hurt Azriel because of it."

"And you stuck your nose in things that are none of your business," Cassian continued. "I get it that you are tired of fighting, Rhys, we all are, but you can't keep conflict out of our family by ordering Azriel to behave in the way you would like him to."

Rhysand winced, knowing Cassian was right. He had been trying to control things, to make sure everyone was safe and happy, but in the process, he had driven a wedge between himself and his brothers. "I...I know," he admitted reluctantly. "I was…I was stupid. I am tired of war. Of fighting. And I was just trying to protect him, but I went about it all wrong."

" Protect me?" Azriel asked him, his voice dripping with disdain. " Protect me from what ?"

Rhysand looked away, feeling the shame rise within him. He knew he had overstepped, and he knew that Azriel was angry with him. "The consequences that would have arisen," he said delicately. He didn't know what Azriel had told his mate...didn't know how much she knew, but she was watching him with an expression on his face, he couldn't quite place.

"Well, I am an adult, Rhysand," Azriel snapped. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

Rhys knew that. He knew Azriel was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he still felt the need to protect him, to shield him from harm.

"I...I know that," Rhysand said quietly. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt." He glanced over at Azriel's mate, who was still watching him warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated, judged for his mistakes.

Azriel let out a dry chuckle. "Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" he said bitterly. "You've seen to that already." Rhysand winced at the accusation, knowing that he deserved every ounce of Azriel's anger.

"I know," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I am sorry for that. I see now that it was the wrong way to go about it." He looked into his brother's dark eyes, pleading for understanding.

Azriel met his gaze, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Protecting me by making decisions for me is not protecting me, Rhysand," he said quietly. "It's...it's suffocating. It's demeaning."

Rhysand nodded, knowing that Azriel was right. He had been trying to control everything, trying to make sure that nothing went wrong, and he had lost sight of what was truly important. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I am sorry for making you feel that way. It was wrong of me."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before finally sighing. "Just...stop it," he said simply. "No more interfering in my personal life, no more giving me orders like I am one of your soldiers."

Rhysand let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I promise," he said earnestly. "I won't do it again, Az. I...I'll respect your boundaries, and I'll never overstep again."

Azriel snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said gruffly. "And if you do...if you try to control me like that again, I swear Rhysand...it won't end well."

"You'll ha…have He…Hecctor to contend with," Sky said, her voice even.

Rhysand looked over at Hector, who had finished his tuna and was now licking his chops. Rhys swallowed. "He does seem to be a force to be reckoned with," he said carefully.

Sky gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. "You could say t…that," she said, her tone neutral. Azriel snorted a laugh, shaking his head as he watched his mate. It was the first genuinely carefree sound Rhysand had heard from his brother…in a long time.

Despite the earlier tension, Rhysand found himself smiling too. There was something about the way Azriel looked at his mate, the way he looked...happy, that made Rhysand feel like maybe everything would be alright.

Hector chose that moment to let out a loud meow, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge in the otherwise quiet room. Azriel looked down at the cat, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll get you your second helping, spoiled brat," he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Rhysand chuckled, feeling the tension that had been weighing him down lift just a little. Things between him and Azriel weren't repaired yet, they had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful.

“They do say the pen is mi…mightier than a sword,” Sky said suddenly. “You treat Azriel like that again and you’ll see just how mighty my pen is.”

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Sky's unexpected threat. It was clear that she wasn't messing around, and Rhys couldn't help but admire her boldness. He glanced over at Azriel, who was trying to suppress a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhysand said, trying to hide his amusement. "Though I have to say, I can’t imagine a pen being as terrifying as Hector."

Cassian snorted. “Oh you have no idea,” he muttered

Rhysand's eyes widened in curiosity at Cassian's comment. What on earth did that mean? But before he could inquire further, Azriel's voice broke through.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Let's just say that you don't want to get on Sky's bad side, especially when she has her writing instruments within reach."

"Duly noted," Rhysand said, nodding seriously. He had a feeling that Azriel's mate was not someone to be trifled with, regardless of how harmless she looked, and he had no intention of finding out first-hand just how mighty her pen truly was.

Hector, having finished his second helping of tuna, let out a satisfied meow before padding over to Sky and rubbing against her leg. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he purred contentedly.

Rhysand watched the scene. He had never seen Azriel so relaxed, so happy, and it made him realize just how badly he had missed his brother. It was a reminder that family was more important than anything, and that he needed to cherish the people he cared about.

“Seems like you aren’t Sky’s favourite,” Cassian drawled.

Azriel snorted. “Nah, I come a distant third behind Hector and the shadows.”

Rhys watched with a swallow as these shadows that he had seen torturing people came over to Sky and twined around her hands. Azriel's words were said in jest, but Rhysand could hear the fondness in his voice. It was clear that Azriel adored his mate, and that the shadows had taken a liking to her as well. Rhysand tried not to let the slight sting of jealousy show on his face.

As he watched, the shadows danced around Sky's fingers, like they were alive and had a mind of their own. Rhys had seen the shadows in action, had seen how Azriel used them to fight and spy, but he had never seen them act this way before. There was a tenderness in the way they twined around Sky that was almost...beautiful.

Rhys turned to Azriel, who was watching his mate with a soft expression on his face. "They seem to like her," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

"That's an understatement," Azriel said drily. "They're obsessed with her. They won't leave her alone."

Rhysand could see that clearly, but what surprised him more was how comfortable Sky seemed with them. She wasn't scared or even bothered by their presence...

It did make sense he supposed. The shadows were Azriel's weapon, his most trusted companions...that they would like his mate.

Rhysand watched as Sky looked up from where the shadows were wrapping around her fingers, a faint smile on her face. She seemed completely at ease with the strange entities, as if they were just another part of Azriel that she had accepted and embraced.

And it was also a sharp reminder of how much trust Rhys had destroyed through his actions. It was very clear who Azriel preferred, who he trusted more. Who he gravitated towards. Who even his shadows doted on, these strange, creatures that Rhys was quite sure would stop at nothing to keep their master safe.

The realization stung, but Rhys knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had caused this rift between them, he had pushed Azriel away, and now he was paying the price for it. But he was determined to make it right, no matter how long it took.

As he watched Azriel gently brush away a stray strand of hair from Sky's face, Rhys made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to repair their broken bond, to regain Azriel's trust and respect. No matter how hard it was, no matter how long it took, he would make things right.

***

"You want to talk about it?" Sky asked him quietly, after Cassian ad Rhys had gone.

She was fine now. Content. No more pulling at the mating bond so harshly and pushing all her fear at him. It had shaved at least a century of his life, to feel that from her when Casisan and him had been sparring and he knew that she was supposed to be safe at home.

He had expected near everything…but he hadn’t expected to arrive to the view of Hector scratching Rhys’s face with all his might.

Azriel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his tangled emotions into words yet, but he also knew that he couldn't keep it all bottled up inside.

"Rhys gave me some orders that I didn't agree with," he said drily. "Stuck his nose in things that he had no business to interfere with. He treated me...treated me like my feelings didn't matter. That I didn't matter....It took a really bad fight on Solstice for this apology to occur," he said with a grimace.

"You don't think he means it?" Sky asked him curiously, turning to look at him.

"No, he does mean it," Azriel said with a sigh. He did believe that. “He wants to fix things. to rebuild trust...And I do want that too. Regardless of how much of an asshole he can be on occasion he is still my brother ."

Sky was quiet for a long moment, watching him intently. Azriel felt the weight of her gaze, knowing that she was analyzing the situation, trying to understand what he was feeling. Finally, she spoke.

"You're worried that he'll disappoint you again," she said softly. "That he'll make promises that he can't keep. That he'll go back on his word and hurt you worse than before."

Azriel's throat felt tight. The words hit him hard, because Sky had put a voice to his deepest fears. "Yes," he admitted. "That'sexactly what I'm afraid of. I want to believe him, I do."

But it was hard to trust Rhys right ow. Especially with Sky. Trusting Rhys with the most important, the most precious part of his life...

"I can loan you Hector whenever he pisses you off again," Sky offered him seriously, and Azriel couldn't help but laugh.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I might just take you up on that." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. The scent of caramel and hazelnuts enveloped him, calming his racing thoughts and easing the tension in his shoulders.

"I love you, he whispered into her skin and she hummed. "Regardless of what happens, you have me," Sky promised him. "I'll be behind you, every step of the way. regardless of whatever you decide."

Those words were like a balm to Azriel's soul. The fear and doubt that had been plaguing him since Rhysand's unexpected visit receded, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty. He held onto Sky tightly.

"I love you too," she murmured, the words barely audible even in the still apartment.

They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding onto each other.

*I don't think I ever thanked you.* he told the shadows softly as he held his mate in his arms.

The shadows fluttered around him, wrapping around his arms and shoulders like a comforting embrace. They didn't say anything, but Azriel could feel their response. They had been with him through thick and thin, protecting him, guiding him, and never once asking for a word of thanks. And yet, he knew that they understood his gratitude, that they could feel it…

*Thank you for finding her.*

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #it’s a love story

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katsu28 · 2 days ago

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home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

pairing: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

summary: your plan to finally make good on your promise of a home cooked meal for oscar's first win is thwarted by a certain older brother of yours. (3.1k)

warnings: general swearing, overprotective brother max. this is the long awaited part two to maiden wins & secret meet-ups, but can be read as a stand-alone!

a/n: we interrupt your (semi) regular programming of lando to give you more bf oscar!!! wrote most of this pre baku so no second win unfortunately

Everything is perfect.

You’ve got Oscar’s favorite pasta dish simmering on the stove, a few appetizers ready on the counter, the table set up nicely for two, and your flat is pretty clean.

All that’s left to do is change into something nice and wait for Oscar to arrive, and your promise of a date night with a home cooked meal for his win will have been fulfilled.

You’re more excited than anything. You haven’t seen Oscar since Hungary because you’ve both been busy, but you managed to find tonight as one night where neither of you have anywhere else to be, no one else to see. All you want to do is spend time with him and love on him as much as you can while you're alone together.

The doorbell rings just as soon as you’ve slipped into one of your favorite dresses, and for a moment you’re confused, because Oscar isn’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes.

And Oscar, bless his heart, is never early.

You push the thought away as you go to open the door because hey, maybe he’s just as excited to spend time with you as you are with him. It’s the only thing on your mind when you pull it open to greet—

“Max? What’re you—”

Your brother is nudging past you as soon as the door swings open wide enough, completely ignoring your bewildered state in favor of beelining for your sofa and plopping down onto it. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table in front without a care in the world, settling into the cushions behind him with a loud, relaxed sigh.

“Um, hello? This isn’t your home, you know! An acknowledgement would be nice before you come barging in. And a warning that you’re coming, but whatever, I guess.”

He blinks a few times, cocking his head to the side. “Hi. Sorry, I forgot to text, but I figured you’d be home anyways, so…”

“Right, but I actually have plans soon,” You reply, gesturing vaguely at what you know he knows isn’t your typical staying at home outfit, “as you can see.”

“Oh, that’s a nice dress,” He hums, motioning for you to do a spin. You don’t humor him with one. Instead you walk over to where he is and shove his dirty shoes off your table, wrinkling your nose at just how annoying he’s being right now. “Bit fancy for a night in though, no?”

“Thank you. But I’ve got plans,” You say tightly. He gives a firm nod. You wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so you sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Maxie, but what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I pay my favorite sister a visit without a reason?”

You try again, with more urgency this time. “Sure, but any other time would be better.”

Either Max really needs to get his ears checked, or he’s actively choosing to ignore your words, because he grabs the TV remote off the table, patting the seat next to him as he switches it on.

“C’mon, watch Love Island with me. I’m three episodes behind and I need to catch up before Charles spoils it for me next time we play padel.”

Frustrated to no end at his inability to listen, you cast a quick glance at the time. Oscar is meant to arrive increasingly soon, you’re no closer to getting Max out of your flat, and you’re a hair's width away from kicking him out with force.

“Max, I need you to leave.”

He chuckles, “Why?”

“Why? Because I have plans, have you not heard anything I’ve said?” You huff, propping your hands on your hips frustratedly. Max sits up from his slouch, looking from you, over towards the food on the counter, the candles and silverware on the table.

“Are you expecting someone?” He asks incredulously, brows flying high. “Oh my god, are you having a date over?”

“Maybe. Okay, yes, so you need to go. Like, now.”

Max ignores you (again), rising to his feet, mirroring your stance and expression scarily accurately. Sometimes you feel like you were meant to be twins in another life with how similar you are every so often. Then you think that he would’ve probably absorbed you in your mum’s womb had you actually been twins.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, really.”

“Uh, yes it is! As your brother, it’s my responsibility to make sure whoever my baby sister lets all up in here isn’t a fucking serial killer, for starters.”

“All up in here? You’re being ridiculous. I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you very much.”

“Uh huh, sure. So what’s their name? What do they do?”

“Still none of your business!”

“You’re being evasive.”

“Yeah, well you’re being invasive.” You level Max with a narrow eyed stare, crossing your arms over your chest. He does the same, but god is he much better at it than you. It makes you let out a sigh, digging the heels of your palm against your eyes. “I love you, Maxie, but I know how you get with people I’ve been in relationships with, and this one…he’s special, okay?”

His glare softens at the pure fondness in your tone, posture relaxing, arms dropping. He studies you for a few moments, like he’s gauging whether or not he should continue with his annoyingly overprotective older brother shtick or drop it all together. “Fine. I still want to know his name though. Full name, first and last. Just so I can do a little background research myself, alright?”

“Oh, I think you know it already,” You mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything.

“What?”

“Nothing!” You smile at him innocently, shrugging. “Will you go now?”

Max lets you usher him towards the door, sounding a bit annoyed, but you’ll deal with him later. You’ve still got a bit of time before Oscar’s set to arrive to get Max out, thank goodness. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I won’t make you call me right after whoever this guy is leaves.”

“Yeah, sure, of course. Right afterwards, you got it,” You say absentmindedly. You pull open the door for him, well and ready to finally shoo him away—

And then there’s Oscar, one hand reaching for the doorbell, the other clutching a colorful assortment of flowers wrapped in brown paper.

Fuck.

Out of all your dates, this just had to be the one time Oscar showed up early.

He’s smiling softly, but as soon as the door swings open and he sees Max standing in front of him, his expression turns into that of a deer in headlights. If you weren’t so all over the place right now, you would’ve found it hilarious.

“Piastri? What’re you doing here? And why do you have—” Max freezes mid-sentence, eyes ping-ponging between you and Oscar so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if they popped out of his head. “Oh, what the fuck? You’re dating fucking Oscar? And you,” He turns his attention back to the shaken looking Aussie, “you’re dating my sister? What the fuck!”

“Um…hey, mate. I mean, Max. I mean—hi? Erm, nice to see you too,” Oscar says hesitantly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes flick to yours helplessly, begging for a lifeline.

“Hi, Osc. Don’t mind him, come on in.” You push Max aside with both hands, making room for Oscar to cross the threshold.

Though judging by the slightly nauseous look on his face, Oscar would much rather like to turn around and leave right back the way he came. Max, on the other hand, just stares blankly at the two of you.

You ease the flowers out of Oscar’s grip, pressing what you hope is a reassuring kiss to his cheek in return. “These are gorgeous.”

Oscar gives his head a little shake to get himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, I had the florist put together all your favorite flowers.”

“I love them, thank you. Come with me to the kitchen? The vase is on the top shelf.” You slide your hand into his, tugging him in the direction you want to go and he follows, tearing his wide eyed gaze from Max’s as he stumbles after you. Once you’re safely in the kitchen and out of Max’s earshot, you turn to him. “I am so sorry for springing this onto you without warning, he just showed up like, ten minutes ago and I was just about to get him to leave.”

“Um, yeah, no it’s—it’s fine. Just caught me off guard a little, is all,” He breathes, bobbing his head. “So he knows about us…?”

“Pretty sure he’s connecting the dots right now, yeah.” You sneak a peek out of the kitchen to see that Max hasn’t moved an inch from his previous position. His body is frozen in place, but you already know his mind is moving a mile a minute.

You turn back to Oscar, setting aside the flowers on the counter. “I haven’t told him anything else yet, but I think at this point, we might have to. Only if you’re okay with it, though. I can still tell him to fuck off if you want.”

Oscar’s hands slide up your arms, rubbing your shoulders soothingly, calmly. “I’m okay with it. I’ve had you all to myself the last five months, I’m ready to take the next step in our relationship.” He folds you into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you tightly. Your cheek presses against the firm, sturdiness of his chest, helping settle you in that way it seemed only he could. “Are you?”

“‘Course I am,” You say firmly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His lips curve into a small smile, eyes doing that little happy squint thing you love. “Yeah?”

You kiss him instead of answering, short and sweet, before moving to leave. Max has moved to the living room when you make your way out of the kitchen cautiously with Oscar in tow, and he doesn’t seem to notice you’re both there until you clear your throat.

His blank gaze flicks to yours, then Oscar behind you before morphing back into the calculating sharpness that you’ve grown accustomed to.

You’re the one to break the silence. “So…I’m sure you have questions.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” He grumbles.

One thing about your brother, he talks a lot. A real motormouth, so to speak. And right now, he’s got a lot to talk about. He even slips into Dutch for a few minutes at some point, not even noticing when you lean over towards Oscar to translate for him.

Soon enough you realize he isn’t even talking about your relationship anymore, but has somehow moved on to the faults of his own, which is a whole other can of worms that you really don’t care to discuss. Part of you feels like Max might be projecting a little bit, but you’ll worry about those problems later.

It isn’t until he loops back around to the topic at hand grumbling something along the lines of you making a mistake by dating Oscar that you stop him with a glare and some choice words of your own.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you judge me, Max. I am an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you, let alone who I choose to be in a relationship with,” You say firmly. You’ll lay everything out plain and simple for your brother, who is usually one of the most observant people you know, so things are as clear as possible going forward. “I love Oscar, and there’s nothing you can say that will change that, so you need to find a way to be okay with this.”

You’re too busy taking a stand against Max’s stubborn nature to notice Oscar right now, but if you had been paying any ounce of attention to him, you would’ve seen his lips quirk up into a wide grin, the straightening of his hunched shoulders.

He’s pleased, to say the least. For a guy known by the world as being extremely flat and composed, he's nothing but expressive when it comes to you.

Max, however, does notice the changes in Oscar’s demeanor. The crease between his brows lessens, because shit, he’s never seen Oscar Piastri smile that big before. Never seen Oscar look at anyone the way he’s looking at you now, even as you continue to lecture Max about boundaries.

“Fucking hell,” He says, dragging a hand back through his hair. It gets you to pause, raising an expectant brow at him. “You’re right. I’m being a total asshole brother, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” You say pointedly, arms crossed. He drops down onto the couch behind him, hunching over and propping his chin up in his palm with a heavy sigh.

Guilt tinges at you a little bit at the sight. You know Max means well. He loves you and wants you to be happy, but he gets a little too overprotective of you sometimes. It’s been that way since you were kids. He was away for races a lot, so when he was there he tended to overcompensate.

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “You’ve always watched out for me, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done to protect me, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Maxie. It’s time to let me do things on my own.”

“You’re making me sound so old right now and I hate it,” Max huffs dramatically. “But you have a point. You’re not a little girl anymore, but you’ll always be my little sister.”

“And you’ll always be my big brother.”

Max presses his lips into a thin line. “Guess I should leave now, huh?”

You nod faux seriously, patting his knee. He sighs, drags himself to his feet, sticks out his hand towards Oscar for a begrudgingly firm shake before he goes. Then he stops in his tracks about halfway to the front door, whirling around to face Oscar again.

“If you hurt her…well, I won’t even have to kick your ass, because she’ll have already done it for me,” He warns, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

You fight a smile, because even though you know Oscar would never hurt you, you’re secretly pleased your brother recognizes that you can handle yourself.

The Australian boy nods solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Don’t really know him all that well, huh?” Max teases, the first time he’s looked anything but downright distressed since discovering you’re dating Oscar. You offer him a guilty smile that he rolls his eyes playfully at as he pulls the door open. “Breakfast tomorrow? I’d like to know more about how absolutely fucking blind I’ve been to not know you’ve been seeing Oscar this whole time.”

“Breakfast sounds good,” You chuckle. “Now for the hundredth time, please leave. I’ve got a date.”

You let out the biggest sigh in the world as soon as the door slams shut, a little exhausted at the emotional roller coaster you’ve just been on. All this because you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal for a special occasion.

Oscar’s found his way to the sofa, inviting arms open, soft smile on his face. You plop down next to him with a groan.

You’re only now noticing he’s worn your favorite shirt today, the dark one that hugs his biceps just right and makes the cozy warmth of his brown eyes pop.

“Reckon that went rather well.”

You scoff, both amused and skeptical. “Seriously?”

“Well, in my head, I thought he was gonna punch me in the face, so…yeah, I don’t think it went too bad. All things considered.”

“I feel like I’m always apologizing for things lately,” You sigh, letting your head fall onto Oscar’s shoulder. He exhales in the form of a chuckle, lacing his fingers through yours comfortingly. “And for some reason, my brother seems to be a common denominator. So, I apologize about him too, because we both know he’s too stubborn to say it himself.”

“Seems like stubbornness runs in the family.”

You knock your knee against Oscar’s without any real force behind it, rolling your eyes playfully. “Funny. Sorry you had to hear me argue with him.”

“He’s just being an older brother. I get it.” He shrugs nonchalantly, totally unphased. “Plus, you’re kinda hot when you get mad.”

“Ha! You’re into that?”

“Guess I am.”

“I learn something new about you everyday, don’t I?”

Oscar just grins knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says later on in the night, when you’re both standing at the kitchen sink. You’re washing dishes from dinner, he’s drying them with a dishcloth.

His tone is completely casual, offhanded, like the way someone might mention how nice the weather is today.

You blink, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“Earlier, when you were chewing Max out, you said—” He pauses, rubs furiously at a wet spot on the plate clutched in his hands, cheeks going pink. “You said you loved me? Was that just to prove your point, or…”

If you’re being totally honest, you hadn’t even realized you’d said it. You’ve never shared those three little words with Oscar before, but the more the weight of them sets in, the more you realize it’s true.

You’ve fallen in love with Oscar Piastri without even knowing.

At the back of your mind, though, you think you’ve known all along. From the first time he’d uttered out an awkward hello in the paddock all those months ago, you were hooked. Since then, being with him was easier than anything else you’ve ever done. Sure, the secrecy and the constant on the go nature that came with being a professional athlete provided a few hurdles, but you like to think you’ve managed to handle them quite well.

“Uh…hello?”

Your focus is brought back to real time, where Oscar is looking back at you with a borderline nervous expression gracing his face.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile warmly. “I love you, Osc.”

You abandon the sponge clutched in your hand, dropping it in favor of reaching across the dish rack and cradling his cheek in your palm, kissing him gently.

“Well, that’s a relief. Thought I’d just made a fool of myself right there.”

He’s got soap suds on his face, one eye scrunched shut at the wetness from your hand, but you think he’s never looked more handsome. He could be wearing the most god awful outfit known to man and you’d still think he’s the best thing you’ve laid eyes on, because you love him and he loves you.

And really, that’s all you need to feel right where you should be.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x verstappen!reader #op81 #oscar piastri x fem!reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you

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ktownshizzle · 3 days ago

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Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned.

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch.

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing.

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?”

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it��s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table.

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit.

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.”

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi.

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.”

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests.

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my Masterlist

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hotshotsxyz · 8 hours ago

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too little, too late

(8x08 coda) (buddie) (1.2k) the episode chose violence and so did i :) spoilers for 8x08, and hey, guess what? this is my 100th 911 fic! it feels right that it's an evil one <3

The real estate agent has an irritating voice. It’s pitchy and run through with vocal fry, and if Buck has to listen to her talk for another second, he might actually tear his hair out. And it’s definitely about her voice. Nothing to do with the largely helpful information she’s handing over to Eddie like candy on Halloween.

“Anyway, we can touch base again once you’ve had a chance to look over those listings. I’m sure we’ll find something for both of you to love!” the realtor says.

Buck smiles. It feels brittle and fake.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says with all the sincerity Buck can’t quite muster. He ends the call and sits back against the couch.

“That, uh—that went, um—” He’s choking on the positivity he’s trying so hard to exude. “—well,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Seems easier than I thought it was going to be.”

Easy.

That’s—

Yeah.

“You know you—you don’t have to buy straight away,” Buck says as casually as he can manage, which is to say, not casually at all.

“Buck,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“I know!” Buck says, throwing his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Just—maybe you want to make sure, you know? Before it’s—it’s permanent.”

“I can’t keep missing out on his life,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck swallows. He knows. He knows! Knows it like he knows there’s going to be an Eddie-and-Chris shaped hole in his heart for the rest of his goddamn life.

“I don’t want you to,” Buck says, and it’s maybe the first honest thing that’s come out of his mouth since he sat down on Eddie’s couch.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he realizes this might be one of the last times he gets to sit on this couch, in this house, with this man.

Eddie drops his head into his hands. “I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“Have you told Bobby yet?” Buck asks. His breath catches.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Buck says in a rush of air. “That’s—” He wants to say good. He can’t say good. Eddie needs—he needs—

Eddie lifts his head from his hands and his eyes are shining. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I thought—”

“That he’d want to come back,” Buck supplies when Eddie doesn’t finish his thought.

He nods.

“He still—he could still—” Buck starts.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t hate me. It’s worse than that. He doesn’t care.”

Buck’s chest feels tight. “He—he loves you, Eddie,” he says weakly.

“Maybe before, but—”

“He does,” Buck insists. “And—and if this is what you have to do to make sure that stays true I—I get it.” He does. He gets it. He’d do anything for Christopher. He’d—

It’s the worst feeling in the entire fucking world, but he’d give up Eddie for that kid. Is. Is giving up Eddie for that kid. A sob jumps up in Buck’s throat. He fights it back.

“I want to believe you,” Eddie says.

Buck knows that he doesn’t.

“Have you, um. Have you talked to Chris about this yet?” Buck asks, feeling a little bit like he’s just laid his neck across the base of a guillotine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—I’ve got to do this, whether he wants me to or not.”

All at once Buck’s angry. Angry at Eddie, angry at his parents, at fucking Kim, at himself, and maybe even a little bit at Christopher.

“Eddie, you—you told him he could come back!” He says, a little louder than he means to. “Doesn’t he deserve to know that’s not going to be an option anymore?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got—he’s got friends here, and—and Carla, and—” He can’t say it. He doesn’t have the right to say it, doesn’t have the right to feel like he’s already lost a limb and now they’re taking a lung, but— “and me,” he finishes quietly.

Something like devastation flashes across Eddie’s face. “Buck, I—”

“No,” Buck says quickly, standing up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have—I’m not—”

“Buck, wait,” Eddie says, following him as he retreats toward the door.

“I, um—I forgot, I have to—I promised Maddie,” he tries to lie.

“Please don’t go,” Eddie says, and god, how many times in Buck’s life has he yearned to hear someone say that to him and mean it. How many nights has he driven home from Eddie’s wishing he’d been asked to stay.

This thing building in his chest, this thing of anger and grief and regret—it hurts. Every breath he takes is a little more constricted, a little less effective.

Eddie looks at him, and Buck sees it. That thing he’s always wanted to see. That thing he didn’t even know he wanted from Eddie until right now and it’s—

There was a small, naïvely hopeful part of Buck that really still believe that if someone loved him enough, they’d stay. Eddie loves him, looks at Buck like he’ll break his heart when he walks out the door, and it still isn’t—

Eddie loves him, and it isn’t enough to make him stay.

Buck is in love with him, he realizes, and it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s leaving. Like Abby and like Tommy, except Buck didn’t know how much hurt he hadn’t even discovered yet, because this isn’t Abby or Tommy, it’s Eddie, and Eddie—

Eddie’s supposed to be the one that stays.

Buck shakes his head and shuffles back until the doorknob is digging into his spine. “I have to,” he breathes, a grossly distorted reflection of what neither of them has quite managed to say.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to ask again, like he’s going to beg Buck to stay, to show him all these awful pieces of his heart that he’s just found so he can remind himself that it’s not too much to leave behind.

Buck’s out the door before he can say another word.

He throws himself into the Jeep and all but fishtails it out of Eddie’s driveway. He makes it three streets away before he has to pull over.

The first sob surprises him with its softness; the second with its violence. He wraps his arms tight around his stomach and, god, he tries to breathe. But there’s not—there’s not enough oxygen in the entire world to make up for the way his lungs refuse to expand in the face of this loss.

He has to—he can’t—Eddie needs him to pull it together. To—to help him. To support him, and god help him, Buck will. There’s nothing Eddie could ask of him that he wouldn’t give. Nothing Eddie could do, Buck’s realizing, to make him love him any less.

Hot tears spill down Buck’s cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath and wipes them away. His vital organs are crumbling, so what?

He’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep Eddie warm.

#911fic #911 fic #buddiefic #buddie fic #911 #buddie #fic #911 spoilers #coda #abbie writes #abbie commits to the torture nexus <3 #i have lighthearted ideas but that's for Later

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giannaln4 · 13 hours ago

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Sorry Won't Fix This

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando makes the biggest mistake of his life, bigger than any apology, and you both hoped there was a way to fix it. Unfortunately, you both wished it at different times. (5.5k words)

warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of sex, manipulation, mede up characters, use of Y/N

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE MORE ANGST! This is a long one and I held nothing back. I really did try to make it as hurtful and dramatic as possible and ngl I was inspired by 'Don't worry darling' for a tiny part of this (you'll know when you read it) but anyway, this one does NOT have a happy ending so please let me know what you think!

Check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

You had a terrible feeling, but you were too scared to look into it, terrified you would be right.

Truth is, you started feeling like that just a few weeks ago, when you went back to Lando’s apartment to surprise him with lunch and found an empty room and the bed unmade from somebody sleeping on it. Any other day that would’ve been completely normal, but you had stayed with him the night before and made the bed as soon as you both got up to get ready for your separate plans for the day, leaving a perfectly made bed to come back to.

Before that day, you would’ve never in a million years thought that Lando would cheat on you. He had always been so loving and caring, even before you started dating, and once you officially became a thing, he would constantly remind you how much he loved you, and on special days he was the most romantic person ever, and you always thought that you would spend the rest of your life with him, but now... you didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t bury the thought of him with someone else after it crossed your mind briefly while looking at the messy bed.

Later that night you asked him about it, trying hard not to sound like you were accusing him of something, but his excuse just made you feel worse, your suspicions growing.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he inspected his bed, unsure of what was wrong with it.

“Well, you know, I made the bed this morning before we left, remember?”

“Oh, uh- yeah, I came back to- to take a nap,” he stuttered, not even looking at you.

But it kept happening, a few more times.

Things started to change after that; he cancelled the plans you made for when he came back home, he suddenly was too busy every day and your presence might be a distraction for all the things he had to get done for the next race, he was so tired at night he didn’t have the energy for anything, and he even asked you to go back to sleep in your own apartment, claiming he just needed to sleep on his own to be comfortable, even though you were used to sleeping together.

Long story short, he was distant; he was never around anymore, and even when he was, you felt like you were missing him. He was just... different, and you were beating herself up wondering what had changed.

He, on the other hand, didn’t miss you, seeing he didn’t make an effort anymore and he could go days without answering a text or returning a call, and it was not because you took a long time to reply; you would always respond in a heartbeat if it was him. If it weren’t for all the times you visited him at his apartment when a news outlet brought up that he was back in Monaco to make sure he was doing okay, you wouldn’t talk to each other at all.

But today you were feeling hopeful. It was your anniversary, and you had a date night planned — a date he didn’t cancel, so you took the entire afternoon to do your nails, your hair, and pick a beautiful dress to wear, his favourite dress. Your makeup took a while, but you still managed to be ready on time for the wonderful night you had ahead, so you made your way to him, your palms sweating when you knocked on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he asked, wiping her smile off of her face.

“I thought we would go out tonight,” you replied, looking down at your hands to hide your clear disappointment.

“Oh- I guess I forgot to tell you but I remembered I have an important meeting tomorrow morning, so I’m not gonna make it." The door was barely open, and he was standing where the crack was, blocking his apartment as he held the door with a strong grip.

“Okay,” your voice was so faint you barely heard it yourself. “Do you need anything? I could stay here for a couple of hours.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think it’s better if you leave.”

Tears pricked your eyes, swallowing the small lump forming in your throat. “Why?”

“Well, I’m busy with a few things. You know, I have a really early day tomorrow, and you can’t really help me with a McLaren meeting, can you?”

You shook your head slowly “I guess I’m leaving then.”

The tears you had been holding started to fall as soon as you turned around; you could feel your mascara clumping on your eyelashes and forming black streaks down your cheeks, ruining the contour and highlight you applied in hopes of impressing your boyfriend. You ran back to your car and let it all out once you closed the door. You really thought things would be different tonight, but you were wrong.

You started driving to your best friend’s house, desperate to vent about how terrible your relationship was going since you had been keeping a secret from everyone; the last thing you needed was the media to get in the middle of this.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Are you okay?” Mia asked you when she saw the mascara tears.

You shook your head as you stepped inside, small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to stop the crying.

“What happened?” She took your hand and guided you to the couch.

“Lando.”

“What about Lando?”

“I think he’s cheating on me." You had never said that out loud, and saying it broke your heart even more. “I wish I was crazy, but the signs... I know he is.”

“I’m not trying to defend him or anything, but what makes you think that?”

“Everything, Mia. He has been acting so... distant. Ever since-” You stopped yourself. You never told anyone your relationship with Lando wasn’t doing so well, making up excuses to cover his. You just wanted to hold on to everyone else’s idea of you two, thinking you were the perfect couple.

“What? Have you guys been fighting?”

You took a deep breath before saying, “Remember the last time I stayed over at his apartment?” She nodded in response, “Well, later that day I went back to surprise him with lunch, but he wasn’t there and the bed was a complete mess, and you know I always make the bed when I wake up. He said he went back to take a nap, but he was supposed to be with Carlos all morning, and it didn’t make sense he had time to come back, take a nap, and then leave again, so I asked Carlos, and they didn’t meet at all that day. Is that insane?”

"No, Y/N, of course not.” Mia didn’t know what to say; she wanted to comfort you but she didn’t know how. “And he’s been acting weird since then?”

You nodded, wiping your tears away. “Yeah, he’s been pushing me away since that day. Telling me he doesn’t have time because he’s so busy with the season, which I understand, but not even answering a couple of texts? And cancelling every date we had planned?”

“Is that what happened today? I thought it was your anniversary.”

“It is.” You were nibbling on your lip profusely, looking up so tears would stop falling. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” You shook your head again; you hated confrontation, and you were hoping you didn’t have to do that. “I think you should go talk to him.”

“Right now?”

“If not now, then when? You say you’ve been feeling like something’s off for a while, but you haven’t said anything to him.”

“I don’t know Mia-”

“If he is cheating on you then you need to break up with him, you don’t deserve to be in that situation, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You inhaled as you considered what Mia just said. She was right, but to be completely honest, you weren’t ready yet. “I really want to know, but I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if he is?” Tears started rolling down your face again, Mia hugging you tight as soon as it happened. “I love him, and... I just want things to go back to normal.”

“I know you do, but believe me, it’s better if you know.”

You stayed there for a while, but ultimately decided to go talk to him, but you needed to put yourself back together before confronting him. Mia helped you to wash your face and fix your hair, comforting you and offering to stay with you once the two of you were done talking. You accepted; you didn’t want to be alone, and Anne, your flatmate, had been going out of town a lot recently, so your apartment was empty, and you knew it’d be a long night.

Once you felt better and ready to talk to him, Mia drove you to his place as you repeated in your head everything you wanted to tell him. You knocked loudly and didn’t stop until he opened. He looked annoyed, and you stormed inside as soon as he opened the door.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

You blinked at him twice. Did he not think you needed to talk? “About us, Lando. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, now you were mad. “Lando, you have been ignoring me for days, and I understand if you’re busy, but it doesn’t explain you pushing me away at all times.”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

There was a moment of silence, both of you staring at each other as you tried to remember the questions you were supposed to ask, but none of them seemed to make sense now that you were standing in front of him “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How about you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

You were both raising your voices, but Lando especially. “I told you already, I’ve been busy with the season-”

“I could’ve stayed here with you or gone with you to races if that meant spending more time together, like we have done before.”

“But why would you want to do that?”

“To keep you company, maybe?”

“But all you do is stand around while I do my job.”

“Lando, do you know how many weeks I’ve spent away from home just so we can be together? And you don’t even care anymore, you didn’t even care to say thank you.”

“I never asked you to come,” he mumbled.

You scoffed before shaking your head. “I wanted to, you know I worry about you when you stress yourself out about a race, you tend to overwork yourself-”

“I. Never. Asked. You. To. Come." He interrupted you, his tone punctuated with each word. “I would’ve been fine without you, I don’t need you in my hair at all times." His eyes hardened, his mouth opening to speak again. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I just- I’m your girlfriend, I guess I thought you liked to be with me.”

“I do, but you don’t have to be so clingy all the time.”

You didn’t say anything, hoping you heard it wrong or that he’d apologise, but he didn't. “What?”

“You know, we do everything together and-”

“No, we used to do things together, not everything." You corrected him.

He took a deep breath, as if he was done dealing with you. “Right. Look, I’m tired, we can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, holding back the tears as you walked towards the door. “Happy anniversary,” you said before slamming it closed and running back to Mia’s car.

Lando sat on his couch with his head between his hands for a moment. How could he forget? He took a deep breath as he got up, looking for a ribbon and a gift he bought for you who knows how long ago.

He made his way to Mia’s flat; he assumed you would be there, and your car parked outside confirmed his suspicions, so he knocked on the door a couple of times before saying, “Baby, I’m sorry. I was caught up in all the things I have to do before leaving, and I didn’t realise what day it was." But he got no response. “Y/N please, I know you’re here. Will you please talk to me?”

“Go away, Lando.” Mia was the one to yell, making Lando realise he would not be able to fix it, not tonight anyway.

“Okay, I’m leaving this here. I- I love you.”

You called in sick for your job the next day, your sore eyes and pounding headache being the only things you could think about. Well, that and Lando.

You were staring at the gift he bought for your one-year anniversary — what you were supposed to celebrate the day before. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t believe he remembered you mentioning it on one of your first dates ever, but it was the letter inside that broke your heart. It looked... unfinished, like he didn’t even care enough to give it a proper ending, so you were wondering how long ago he stopped working on it.

The days after that were rough, long nights of wondering what you could have possibly done wrong, but even then you didn’t talk to him. He tried to, a couple of times, but you needed a little bit of time.

A couple of weeks went by, and you found yourself alone at your apartment, catching up on the work you missed for calling in sick so many times.

It was your birthday, and Mia insisted a million times you go out and celebrate, clear your head, and forget about Lando once in for all, but somehow it felt wrong; you had made plans with Lando a few months back to bring your family to a race so they could finally meet him, but obviously that wasn’t happening anymore, so what was the point of celebrating? You just needed to focus and get things done anyway.

You were thankful that Mia had been for you through it all; you really were, but sometimes crying alone did more for you than having someone tell you ‘everything's gonna be okay.' You were tired of hearing that.

Hours later, you found yourself with a cup of coffee to finally catch up on the last project. It wasn’t really that much of a workload, and you didn’t need to stay up all night to do that, but you were going to anyway. Perhaps you just wanted to be productive, or maybe that was you trying to occupy your mind from the possibility of your boyfriend cheating on you.

You looked at the clock; it was 11:30 PM. You sighed, typing away whatever you were supposed to on your laptop, your eyes sore from staring at it for too long, when a text message interrupted you.

Unknown [Attachment: 1 photo]

Unknown: I heard they have been at it for a while.

That text message induced such a great shock on your tired, worn-out body, tears falling down your face as soon as you read it. You didn’t want to open it as you were sure of what this was about, but your curiosity got the best of you.

Tapping on the notification, you prepared yourself mentally to confirm your terrible suspicions. And they were confirmed.

Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you were able to see Lando standing next to his new Ferrari, and he was with someone else, except you couldn’t see who it was, the big jacket and a beanie protecting her identity. He was smiling down at her, eyes full of... love? Those green eyes you thought he reserved for you only, but clearly you were wrong. His big hands were around her waist as hers went around his neck, and his lips were stained with lipstick.

You broke down crying, curled up on your bed as you wore one of Lando’s hoodies that still smelt like him. You now knew what the truth was, but you didn’t want to accept it. What happened to you two? When did he stop loving you?

It was like your heart was ripped from your chest; all that time you spent together down the drain like it was nothing, like it all meant nothing to him.

You didn’t know for how long you cried the night before, but it was now 1 PM and you were just waking up, so you probably cried for hours. There was nothing left you could do to save your relationship, so you made up your mind to break up with him as soon as he came back from the American triple header.

Y/N: We need to talk, just let me know when you’re here.

The message was left unanswered, as usual. You rolled your eyes and put your phone down, returning to your video call with Mia.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No, sorry.”

You sighed as you sipped your hot coffee “What about the number? Do you know who sent the picture?”

“What’s the number? Maybe I can ask around to see if any of my friends know.”

You sent her the phone number, along with the picture of Lando and the other girl. “Thanks. Don’t show anyone that picture thought. I’m already embarrassed as it is.”

“Embarrassed? Y/N, he should be the embarrassed one, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe I did-”

“No, stop doing that to yourself. We both know it’s not your fault.”

You nodded. “I can’t help it. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Was I not enough? Why did he need to find someone else?”

Mia hated to see you going through that, how you felt like you were not enough or that it all ended because of you, and she hated Lando for causing all of that. “I know it’s hard right now, but I promise you’ll understand that none of this is your fault. Y/N you’re amazing, and he’s an idiot for not realising.”

Talking to her made you feel better, but all those terrible emotions came back whenever you looked at the picture again, a million questions invading your mind. How long has he been doing this? Who is she? Does he still love you? What did you do wrong?

A couple of days later, Lando finally replied to your text.

Lando: Just got back. I’m in my apartment

Your heart sank at the notification; you didn’t want to talk to him; you didn’t want things to be over. There was still a part of you that hoped everything was just a misunderstanding, hoping he wasn’t cheating on you and she was just a friend. But deep down you knew the truth, and the possibility of it being a mix-up was down to zero, and after he made it clear that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore, you decided to fulfil his wishes.

It was a long drive to his home; it felt longer than usual, but maybe you were just dreading the conversation you knew was about to happen.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Lando opening it almost right away.

"Hey,” he said faintly, worried he got caught.

“Hi.” You entered the apartment you once thought you would move into and looked around. You had been there a million times, and so many of those times were special little moments you shared together, but right now it felt like you were disconnected from the space. “How was the triple header?”

“Not great- I don’t know. It was messy, I guess." He tried to give you a smile but stopped himself when he noticed your stare full of fury. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seriously? “I’m breaking up with you." Your voice was weak, but you did not dare let a tear slip past your waterline; he didn’t deserve to see you cry.

“What?” The shock in his eyes looked so real that you almost believed him “Why?”

“Did you really just ask that?”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

“Lando, come on, we’ve been over for a while." You stepped closer to him, pain and anger written all over your face as the tears struggled to stay on your eyes. “We didn’t even feel like a couple anymore. Lando, you forgot our anniversary, and that day you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And to think I planned a beautiful night for us and bought you a great gift. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt?”

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that.”

“Of course not, when have you ever listened to me anyway?”

Lando rolled his eyes “Okay, I understand, but we don’t have to break up, I already explained what happened that day, I was busy and completely lost track of time.”

“And I guess she doesn’t have anything to do with this?” You showed him the picture, his demeanour changing immediately.

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry." His eyes and his voice softened as he tried to reach for you, but you turned around and wiped the tears that managed to leave your eyes, a million questions flooding your mind again.

“So it’s true." You were just confirming to yourself what you already knew. Anger and pain washed over your body. Why her? Why her when you’ve been nothing but perfect to the man you loved the most?

“Baby, I can explain.”

You turned around to face him again “Who is she?” He shook his head, his eyes begging you not to make him say it while yours watered, “Who is she?” You repeated.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Why? Cause I might find out you’re cheating?”

A few tears started to roll down his face, his hands desperate to hold yours. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re gonna hate me even more." You stared at him, even more tears falling as you tried to think who the girl could be.

“Did you two- did you sleep with her?” His nod was barely perceptible; if you didn’t already know the answer, you would’ve missed it. Maybe he was right; maybe it’d be better if you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I know I fucked up, but she doesn’t mean anything to me, I swear.”

“Shut up, Lando. I just… I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain-”

“And I don’t care how many times you apologise, how do you expect me to forgive you?” You took a couple of steps back, trying to figure out what caused him to do such a thing. “Even if we stayed together and got married and started a family, how can I ever look at you and not think about that?”

"Baby, I want all of that, I want the rest of my life with you, like we talked.”

“That was before you ruined everything.”

“I know what i did is wrong-”

“Wrong?”

“But we can work this out.”

“What? No, Lando, stop.”

“Just give me another chance, please.”

“Is that why you've been so distant, huh? Was she here on our anniversary?” Lando didn’t say anything, and the flashes from Lnado’s knuckles turning white from holding the door closed that night creeped your mind. Your heart ached so much that every time you breathed deeply, it was scorching you to the core “How could you do that?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Just stop… god.”

“Y/N just hear me out, I swear it only happened once.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I know that’s not true. Do you know how many times I came to an unmade bed? And how many excuses you made?” He stayed silent. “I don’t care how many times it happened, you still did it and nothing is gonna change that.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been hurt before, right? What if I was the one cheating? Would you just forget it ever happened and come back to me?” Once again, he didn’t say anything. “No. Of course you wouldn’t. Lando, how could I ever forget what you did? Or everything you said to me when we were fighting, and the fact that you lied and- and cheated-”

“But you came all the way here.”

“Because I care, and you... you never cared, you never tried-”

“I care, I care so much. Baby, please, you have to believe me." He tried to reach out to you, but you pushed his hand away.

"No, you don’t, and if I’m here, it’s because I know after this we’ll never see each other again, we’ll never talk again and this just has to end.”

“But I don’t want it to end.”

“Well, you ended it when you cheated on me.”

He stared at you for a moment before continuing. “But… I want you, she didn’t mean anything to me." He approached you again, his hope growing a little when you didn’t stop him. He put a strand of hair behind your ear, softly brushing your cheek. “I know I fucked up but I can’t go on without you, I just can't.”

“Well you have, countless times while I was left in the dark wondering if I had done something wrong, crying myself to sleep when I couldn’t get a hold of you, Lando, and in the meantime you were with her.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you have the nerve to say all that shit to me, acting like I was suffocating you when in reality I was trying to save us!” You pushed him away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please let’s talk about it.”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. Was she worth it?” He shook his head, ready to leave his pride behind as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed one of your hands. “What are you doing? Stop.”

“I promise it was an accident, it won’t happen again.”

“An accident? Lando, are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Please, don’t let me go." The grip on your hand tightened, pulling you closer to him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No. I don’t want anyone else, I want you, Y/N”

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“But everything I said... I meant it, I love you Y/N and every second we’ve been together has meant everything to me. Baby, you have to understand.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying, you know I’m not." You pushed his hand away, rolling your eyes when another tear rolled down his face. “I know I don’t deserve it but please... just one more chance and I can fix this.”

“Give you a chance? I gave you a chance when I believed your excuses, when I forgave you for cancelling every date we had planned, when I tried to understand why you locked me out, and when I almost forgave you for forgetting our anniversary, I gave you so many fucking chances!”

“But I swear it wasn’t like that, she meant nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable… god, what are you saying?”

“Just think about how great we are together,” he said, trying to hold your torso, but once again you stopped him.

“Lando, stop that.”

“We’re a great team, aren’t we? We understand each other so well, we know each other better than anyone else, god, I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“No, it’s not gonna work.”

“Yes it will, and I’ll make sure of that.”

“No.” You were having a hard time blocking out how much love you still had for him, but you weren’t forgiving him; there was no way.

“I swear I don’t want anyone else." He held your hands and started kissing them, his lips giving you a sense of home that you missed. "Y/N, please, I love you.”

You nodded weakly as you started crying again.

“You know I love you and I would do anything for you." He continued kissing you, a few tears falling on your hands. “Do you still love me?”

“I love you... Lan-” You released one of your hands from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face.

“See? It will work, we will make it work." You shook your head; you were feeling stupid for almost falling for that. "Baby, look at me, it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

A moment of silence fell into the room as you collected your thoughts again, and he just looked at you hopeful that he could get you back. “Who is she?” You dared to repeat the question as you looked at him again.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally answered. "Annie.”

Annie, your flatmate Annie. She had never met Lando before you, and she wasn’t interested in who he was when you first told her you started dating him, so you were the reason they knew each other for all those times he picked you up from your place, and even then you never considered them to be friends; they barely exchanged any words when they ran into each other. You felt betrayed on a whole new level, not only by Lando but by her too. You had lived with her for so long, literally since the day you moved to Monaco, so you thought of her as one of your closest friends; how could she do that? And these past weeks, when she had been mourning your relationship with Lando, she was there the whole time, and she knew exactly what was happening.

“How long?”

You were getting annoyed at how long it was taking him to answer your simple questions. “The day we went to meet my parents... I drove to your apartment to pick you up, but you weren’t there yet.”

“So you did it at my place?” It wasn’t really a question, and you felt even more disgusted at the thought of them in your own home.

“It was one moment of weakness.”

“One moment of weakness?” He nodded, his hands now holding on to your hips. “But it didn't stop there, did it?”

“I’m sorry.”

You swiped the tears away as you prepared to ask the question you had been asking yourself for weeks. “What does she give you that I can't?”

Lando shook his head quickly. “Nothing, you’re everything I could ever ask for.”

“Then why did you do that?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t really know how it happened or why it kept going, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying it before he got caught. “I don’t know." He whispered.

“Do you love her?”

“No, of course not. I love you." He was holding you tighter, convinced that if he held you long enough, you would want to stay.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

“You know it didn’t mean anything, it was a mistake-”

“Get your hands off me, I’m leaving,” you said as you tried to free yourself.

“Baby, please don’t leave, you have to hear me out.”

“Lando, let go. I don’t wanna be here." Your words struggled to come out from how much you were crying.

“Please don’t, I don’t wanna let you go." He looked up at you, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Let’s just talk about it, yeah? Let me explain.”

“Save it, Lando, it’s over.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. This is obviously my fault, so I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay, just please, one more chance is all I’m asking for.” You finally freed yourself, and your only goal was to go back to your apartment and cry all your pain away. You turned around and headed to the door; his hand tried to come to stop you, but you flinched away. You couldn’t bear to hear another word from him. "Baby, please, I love you.”

You turned around to face him one last time, spotting Lando still on his knees in the middle of his living room. “So you’ve said, but how can you hurt someone you claim to love so much?” He was about to say something, but you didn’t wanna hear it. “There’s nothing you can do to get me to stay, you threw everything away.”

“I know, my love, but-”

“I’m gonna leave and you’re gonna stay here, just… leave me alone, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

You exited the room, leaving Lando alone and a complete mess. He regretted what he did, and he wanted to think that if you would just give him a chance to explain himself, you’d forgive him. But he knew that would never be the case and that his mistake was bigger than any apology; you were right to leave him.

He stared at the door for too long, taking in every emotion he was feeling: remorse, anger, pain, agony... he just felt like life was being sucked out of his body because he ruined the most important part of it, and there’s no one to blame but himself.

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris smut #lando norris one shot #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #giannaln4 writes

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etheraltides · 13 hours ago

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Shelter in the Storm

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summarize: Rafe is acting weird during the storm and you’re about to find out why

Warning(s): mention of gun, protective Rafe.

A/N: feedback always make me happier, love y’all – also tysm for all the love in my fics

The storm outside was relentless, sheets of rain hammering against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that felt too close, too ominous. Rafe stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the faint glow of the firelight. His jaw was tense, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides.

You had packed a bag and driven to Rafe's earlier today when you received a warning in your phone about the upcoming storm, not wanting to risk staying at yours to see the damage - your small house in the Cut had barely survived in the last one and neither you nor Rafe wanted to risk it. Not when his place was as much as yours as his.

You watched him from the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater, your book abandoned beside you. He hadn’t spoken much since the phone call earlier, but his restlessness told you everything. Something was wrong.

“Rafe.” you said softly, pulling his attention away from the storm.

He turned, his blue eyes darker than usual, stormier. He didn’t respond, just studied you for a moment like he was trying to memorize every detail. It wasn’t unusual for him to brood, but tonight, something felt different. He never got that weird over business that went wrong.

“You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes, quiet ever since I've arrived. What’s going on, baby?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

Rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

“It’s not shutting you out, alright? ” he snapped, then immediately softened his tone as he noticed you flinch, his chest tightening with guilty. “It’s keeping you safe.”

“From what?”

His eyes flicked away, unable to hold your gaze. His silence was answer enough.

“Rafe…” You stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him. Your hand rested lightly on his clothed chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, torn between wanting to protect you and needing to tell someone. He didn't like to keep things from you. Finally, he sighed. “You remember Morroco?”

Your brow furrowed. “The trip? Of course.”

He had called you to meet him by the beach, kissing you goodbye as he said he had an important last meeting to close a massive deal and that it'd probably take him a few weeks before he was back.

“It wasn't just a trip.” he said bitterly. “It’s a mess. A deal went sideways, I went after Groff to get my money back and then... Then there was this blue crown treasure hunt with those... pogues. We crossed some people." His jaw clenched. “Now they’re coming for me.”

Your blood ran cold as you tried to process everything. Not even paying a big attention to the fact that Rafe had lied to you. “They?”

“Mercenaries” he admitted, the word dripping with disdain. “Hired guns who don’t care about anything but the paycheck and that fucking crown that slipped away from our fingers."

Fear pricked at the edges of your mind, you could hear your heartbeats in your ears. Mercenaries. “And you think they’ll come here, after you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

You stepped closer, your hands gripping his arms. “Rafe, we should call someone - Shoupe, the poli—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “The cops won’t do anything. I’ll handle it, okay? I can take care of my own shit."

“You can’t handle this alone, Rafe. We're talking about mercenaries and not a cougar whose money went sideways in a deal!” you argued, your voice rising slightly.

“I’m not letting you get involved,” he said firmly, his hands resting on your shoulders. His touch was warm, grounding.

“I’m already involved,” you countered, your voice softening. “I care about you, Rafe. That means I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not.”

His expression cracked, the tough exterior slipping to reveal the vulnerability underneath. “You don’t get it,” he whispered, his hands sliding down your arms. “You’re the only thing I’ve got that’s good. If something happens to you because of me—” He broke off, shaking his head.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” you said, stepping even closer. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “You’re here. You’ll keep me safe.”

He stared at you, his breath hitching slightly. “You have too much faith in me,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I have the right amount,” you whispered back.

For a moment, the tension hung heavy between you, the storm outside roaring as if reflecting the chaos inside him. Then, before you could say anything else, Rafe’s hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he muttered, a small, almost pained smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were swallowed as his lips met yours. The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, like he needed to remind himself you were here, with him, safe. His hands slid into your hair, holding you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed you — it all felt like a promise, and a plea rolled into one.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy. “I’m not letting them get near you,” he vowed, his voice raw.

“They won’t,” you assured him, nodding as your hands smoothed over his chest.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands skimming down your sides. When he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, you felt the full weight of his fear and his determination.

“I should send you away,” he muttered against your hair, his lips brushing your temple. “Somewhere safe. Away from Outer Banks."

You leaned back, meeting his gaze. “No. I’m staying right here. With you.”

Rafe stared at you, his jaw tightening. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile, not wanting him to know how terrified you actually were. “But so are you. We’re a good match, remember?"

Despite himself, he chuckled, his grip on you tightening. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you teased.

He didn’t answer; he just pressed another kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his chest. His hand smoothed over your back, lingering there as if the simple act could protect you from the world.

After the conversation, the weight of the threat hanging over him, Rafe couldn’t let you out of his sight. He needed to feel you close, needed to know you were safe in a way that words couldn’t assure him - and it didn't help that you decided to organize everything that was out of place, moving between the rooms without saying anything. He knew you were stressed. You always clean whenever anxiety hits you.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low as his arms slid around your waist.

You blinked up at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your cheeks flushed. “I can walk, Rafe.”

“Not tonight,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me do this.”

Before you could protest, Rafe bent down and swept you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a soft yelp of surprise, your arms instinctively looping around his neck.

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he murmured, glancing down at you with a small, almost teasing smirk. “Just let me take care of you for once, okay?”

You pressed your lips together, your cheeks warming at the way he held you so effortlessly, his grip steady and secure. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that contrasted with the chaos of the storm outside.

The walk to the bedroom was silent, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the roof. Rafe nudged the door open with his foot, carrying you inside. The room was dark except for the faint glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting warm light over the space.

He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he stepped back. You watched as he moved around the room, double-checking the locks on the windows and door. His movements were methodical, his expression tense.

“Rafe,” you said softly, sitting up. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

You wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped you. He was carrying more than just worry — it was guilt, fear, and the overwhelming need to protect you. It was his way of tricking himself into believing he had some control over the whole situation.

Once he was satisfied, Rafe returned to the bed. You noticed the subtle way he opened the drawer of his bedside table, checking the loaded gun inside.

Your stomach tightened. “Do you really think it’ll come to that?”

His gaze flicked to you, softening slightly. “It’s just a precaution,” he said, his voice steady.

You nodded, though the thought of him having to use it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.

You crawled toward him, settling into his arms as he pulled you close. His body was warm, solid, and the way his arms wrapped around you made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I’ll sleep,” he promised. “Just need to make sure you’re out first.”

You frowned but didn’t push further. His hand smoothed over your back in slow, soothing strokes, lulling you into a sense of security.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, and Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He stayed awake, his eyes scanning the room, his ears attuned to every sound beyond the rain. Every creak of the house set his muscles on edge, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But then he’d look down at you—your peaceful face, your fingers loosely curled against his chest — and the storm inside him would quiet, even if just for a moment.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, Rafe reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of your cheek.

“You don’t even know how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was nearly drowned out by the rain.

His hand moved to your shoulder, then down your arm, his touch light, almost reverent. He wanted to memorize every detail—the way your skin felt against his, the rise and fall of your breathing, the warmth you radiated.

For a long time, he just watched you, his thumb idly brushing against your arm.

No one would hurt you. Not the mercenaries, not anyone. He’d burn the world down before he let anyone take you from him.

When his exhaustion finally began to creep in, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. Even if it's the last thing I do.”

With one hand resting on the gun in the drawer and the other wrapped protectively around you, Rafe finally allowed his eyes to close, the storm outside fading into the background.

As long as you were in his arms, nothing else mattered.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 2 days ago

Text

the art & science of parenting 101 | jay park

✰ 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: fluff, comedy | e2l!au, college!au, (fake)parenting!au, he fell first, she fell harder type beat

✰ 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

✰ wc: 20.5k [ONCE AGAIN -- this was not intentional..if you know me i just have too much fun writing sometimes & get too attached to the characters...]

✰ a/n: 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 (oh, how you pity the poor soul who ends up as his partner).

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 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?"

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

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 knowing 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."

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

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?”

You huff, already pulling out the meticulously detailed notes you took during class. "No, it's on schedule. It says here it won't eat for another three hours and it has a clean diaper, so everything should be fine. Babies are predictable once you understand their needs, Jay."

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."

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

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 smile 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.

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?

Spent 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. Damn, 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. 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."

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

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 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, “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.

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

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 passerbys 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 right now—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 nuzzled into your neck, but Jay is doing everything in his power to keep his cool. You're looking at him in a way that isn't remotely judgmental (for once), and it's throwing him completely off-balance.

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 having 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 third-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 his 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 sweating?

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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