#now you know why it took me so long to finish whoops

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Kim Possible, the Tempus Simia, and fun with timey-wimey stuff

So, those of you who follow my blog will know that I recently finished Spoiler Alert, a Kim Possible fanfic following Kim and Ron's kid Max as he accidentally follows a vengeful Monkey Fist into the past and not-so-accidentally teams up with the past versions of his parents to stop the latter's shenanigans. Anyone who's read the fic will also know that I wanted to talk a little about how exactly I envision the Tempus Simia affecting the timestream and how that relates to its canon appearance in A Sitch in Time. For those of you who want to read the fic and haven't reached the point where I bring that up in the author's notes, you might want to turn back now: what follows is going to be rather, well, spoilery. It's also going to be rather long, so I hope some of you like detailed headcanons, lol

So, to refresh, A Sitch in Time follows a villain team-up using the Tempus Simia, aka time monkey, for time travel shenanigans as well as a team-up between the "present" day Team Possible and a future resistance using something called chrono-manipulators to chase after them. All good and well, but the time travel rules seem to... change over the course of the special. Rufus 3000 refers to the time stream as "polluted" and "in flux" and we see a ripple effect of the past changing in Ron's scrapbook, yet it's later revealed that Shego's meddling in the past caused Ron to move and thus disrupted Team Possible enough for the time monkey to get stolen in the first place, suggesting a stable time loop. Likewise, Kim, Ron and Rufus going to the future apparently removes them from the normal flow of time until they pop out of their destination time portal, yet somehow Rufus was able to have thousands of "descendants" (I'm assuming clones of some sort, but either way) at some point presumably after Shego took over. This isn't really all that unusual for a time travel story, considering the mind-bendy and paradox-happy nature of messing with chronology, but that doesn't mean that we as fans can't try to come up with a creative explanation. So what gives?

Well, okay, those of you who read the author's note already know what (in my interpretation) gives: the two time machines we see in that special use different forms of time travel. Namely, the Tempus Simia creates stable time loops (hence that being what we see in Spoiler Alert) while the chrono-manipulators can actually change the past to influence the future. And when these two forms of time travel come into conflict, things can get... weird.

So in my mind, there are roughly three different timelines that give us A Sitch in Time, with the latter ones overwriting the former. We'll call them timelines A, B, and C, with most of the special taking place in timeline B.

Timeline A is a fully stable time loop, with only the Tempus Simia in play, so it would chronologically start with the villains meddling in the past -- but we'll get to that later. Our starting point would be pretty much what we see in the "present" part of the special: Ron moves away due to Shego's later scheme, and with him either not present or "out of synch" with her, Kim isn't able to stop the villain quartet from putting the Tempus Simia together and escaping into the time stream. Drakken puts into motion his plan of crushing a younger Kim's spirit, and he, Monkey Fist and Duff Killigan turn themselves into toddlers to infiltrate Kim's preschool. This almost fails immediately, because the people in the preschool office aren't going to just let some unregistered and unsupervised kids waltz into a classroom (more on that later), but they later manage to sneak into the playground during recess. They torment toddler Kim a little bit, toddler Ron intervenes, they switch targets to him which awakens her kick-butt instinct -- basically at this point, it's the same thing we saw except for the absence of a time-travelling teen Kim.

After seeing that mundane bullying didn't work, the villain team skips ahead to the day of Kim's first mission to try again. Without the added pressure of time-travelling heroes, Monkey Fist and Killigan are just barely willing to let Drakken try his spirit-crushing plan again. But his overly-complicated plan of approaching Kim as preteens, distracting her from the laser grid mission, and planting seeds of doubt that will cause her to muck it up if she does ever get there fails at pretty much every turn.

It's at about this point that future Shego approaches her "present" self and tells her to grab the time monkey and go, which she does. It doesn't take much experimenting for her to figure out why the guys have so utterly failed with it: the Tempus Simia can't change the past, and the villains' meddling might even be part of the reason Kim was encouraged to go into crime-fighting. From here, Shego starts to get creative: using foreknowledge to make enough money to fund her schemes, putting evil think tanks together in times when nobody knows to go after her, and even figuring out that she was the one who got Ron's family to move away and proceeding to do just that.

With new resources in hand and Team Possible effectively broken up, Shego gets down to business. Being much more practically minded than her death trap-loving ex-employer, she returns to the present, catches Kim and later Ron by surprise when they're alone, and actually manages to kill them. Rufus escapes, but Shego figures that she won't have to worry about him or Wade so long as Kim and Ron are gone. So she gathers her legion of henchmen, attack drones, and obedience collars, starts storming the world one city at a time... and wins.

Of course, pockets of resistance form over the next twenty years, with the most prominent being led by the friends and family of our fallen heroes. Rufus and Wade use the former's DNA to "breed" a small army of hyper-intelligent semi-clones to boost the resistance's numbers, and between that, their location near the Supreme One's headquarters, and the resistance members' various skills and gadgets, they actually stand a fighting chance... Except that every attack on Shego's fortress is thwarted after a seemingly unnatural degree of anticipation on her end. As it happens, Shego has gotten into the habit of going back in time to warn herself before every attack against her, letting her retroactively prepare.

The resistance eventually figures out that time travel is involved in the Supreme One's wild successes (not that she's doing much to keep it a secret), and Wade gets to work on devising a counter. The result is the chrono-manipulators, though nobody realizes they work differently (some might say better) than the Tempus Simia. Since the resistance isn't clear on exactly how Shego used the Tempus Simia to take over, they decide to start by going back twenty years to rescue Kim and Ron and recruiting them to stop the original villain team's mucking around in the past. So starts timeline B, and again, most of what we see in the special.

The thing is, a key aspect of the Tempus Simia is stability. It "wants" the timestream to stay the same, even as the chrono-manipulators "want" to change it. So the timestream starts shifting around a little, but keeps the same broad strokes. New time portal gives everyone around the preschool a wave of disorienting deja-vu? The preschool attendants are distracted just long enough for the toddler-ified villains to slip in before class starts, but their extra bullying time doesn't change what happens at recess (though it does change the class picture). Killigan and Monkey Fist get antsy and shoot down Drakken's plan B? The Tempus Simia slaps together a new time loop in which Monkey Fist steals a guardian statue that would have been shortly destroyed anyway, so the only "change" is that it disappears into the timestream to be lasered later rather than getting swept away by a flood or something (and meanwhile, preteen Kim and Ron succeed in their mission and survive the statue's attack). Kim and Ron start time-travelling and eventually head into the future? They would have died around that time anyway, so now they just disappear into the timestream to the same basic result. Rufus also disappears into the timestream? The resistance somehow manages to get ahold of DNA he left behind and start making clones anyway.

Then things really get weird when the Tempus Simia breaks. Its whole stability thing means that the universe is safe from implosion... but that kind of damage also has the effect of erasing the Tempus Simia from history entirely. Ironically, it's the only way for it to change the past -- time is rewritten so that the creation of the Tempus Simia was abandoned at the last moment, and any loops caused by its use are erased as well. The time stream manages to keep itself in shape by once again smoothing over the time-loop changes so that the broad outcome is still the same: that guardian statue goes back to getting destroyed in a flood, someone who had helped Shego found her bank does the founding personally, Kim befriends Ron and finds her inner fire after dealing with a different bully in preschool, and so on. This "smoothing over" gets weaker as the timeline approaches the point where the Tempus Simia was grabbed by the baddies, though, and by the time it reaches Ron moving away, the bank his mom works at just doesn't have any reason to send her and her family to Norway. And so the future is saved, and we finally reach timeline C.

But the Tempus Simia has one last trick up its metaphorical sleeve: just as it "wants" to keep the timeline stable, so too does it "want" to exist. This may not have even been the first time it was destroyed and rebuilt, not that anyone would know with the overwritten timelines. And so, a paltry few years after the end of the Supreme One's reign and the last point in time in which its previous iteration existed, a Monkey Fist who is feeling very displaced in time gets the idea that "time" may just be the answer to his woes...

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

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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cue all tags now...

[blkgirl-writing]

Valentine's day drabble HCs for the men of BG3 x Reader

These are a collection of small drabbles written in different styles for valentines day! Warning Gales is the longest, whoops.

Gale:

Gales cold warm hands grasped around your waist from behind, squeezing your skin gently as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"The earl grey lavender, please-" He kissed your neck softly, speaking in a quiet tone. It was a perfect day inside his tower, the rays of sun beaming through the stained glass, fluttering rainbows across the cozy kitchen. The kettle whistles quieting down as you took it off the stove.

"It's already in the mug, lovely" You gestured to his favorite mug, a heavy stoneware piece decorated with flowers of purple and pink encased in a golden heart, he said it reminded him of when he realized he had loved you. You never fully asked why, but it made enough sense to be sweet.

"How you know me so well." Gale Smiled. You finished pouring the water and handed him his extra-strong tea. He leaned against the counter, blowing on the drink a few times. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I do have a surprise for you."

"I thought we said no gifts!" You batted his shoulder playfully, "though I'll admit, I didn't follow that rule either."

"is that so?" Gale leaned in to kiss your lips through a smile. "We just can't seem to help ourselves."

"So what's this gift?" you asked. He set down his own mug, ducking into the pantry to retrieve a box, unwrapped and simple. He placed it on the counter and patiently waited, his excitement barely hidden in his smile.

You opened the small box to reveal a mug, a matching mug to his, but a dark blue with purple and red flowers, with a silver heart. It was gorgeous, less heavy than his and somehow it felt built to hold within your two hands.

"Oh Gale, it's perfect." You kissed his cheek, refusing to let go of the mug quite yet, the hug would have to wait.

"I had it specifically made by the same artist. Tara now has a similar water bowl as well. She felt left out" Gales hand slipped around your waist yet again. "as much as I love it when you steal my mug, I thought it was beyond time you had your own as well."

"Oh so you didn't want me using yours?" Your teasing turned into pecks, which led to kisses- "Your gift is waiting in the bedroom," You smirked, hand caressing his messy hair. "If that's ok, of course,"

"I was secretly hoping that was the case." His hand intertwined with yours, nearly sweeping you off your feet.

Wyll:

Wyll had been staring at you for some time before you'd woken up, the sun shining down on your resting face, the definition of peaceful. Wyll hadn't remembered pure peace, it had been years since he'd felt fully at rest, but with you, calmness was as easy as breathing. All he had to do was look at you, and he remembered serenity.

He had made sure he was the best man for you, the best man he could be. He loved you with all his heart and made sure you felt like a goddess above every waking moment of your lives together, however long that may be. He loved the small moments you shared, like when you'd tripped and nearly fallen, but straight into his arms. "Well I didn't think you'd be falling head over heels for me this fast," He'd said. And you'd laughed and smiled, and he swore he'd do everything to keep that smile on your perfect lips.

He remembered your first date, where he had tried so hard to reserve a seat at the best restaurant in baldurs Gate, but ended up in a dingy bar, getting more drunk with each cup, and instead of spending the night entangled in each other's bodies, you'd shared barely cohesive thoughts and stories from lives long past. He learned your favorite color, your old friendships, and the star that you felt most connected to, the smaller details that never seemed to have enough time for during your big adventure.

Or the time you'd styled his hair into braided buns, which he'd kept in until his hair was frizzy and far past wash day. But you'd worked so hard on it to be perfectly symmetrical that he never wanted to take out your work. He asked you to help him with his hair, after that, not just because you were good at it, which, hells, you'd made him feel confident in himself for the first time since he grew his horns, but because your light touch sent him into a nearly meditative state of bliss. The way your fingers carefully combed through his hair, spending time to detangle each knot with such care that he had barely noticed it at all. And eventually, you'd taught him how to do your hair, too. Eventually wearing matching styles (if he asked politely), and took turns in the "hair chair"

"Honey?" You whispered, groggy and barely awake, "have you been staring at me again?"

"Is it a crime?" Wyll asked, placing a light kiss on your forehead.

"Only if I was drooling"

"Oh, but you look too adorable when you drool." He chucked, holding you closer to his warm chest.

"Shut up..." You pouted, eyes fluttering open and closed, trying to force yourself awake. But sleep had you tight in it's arms, and so did Wyll.

Astarion:

Red was his favorite color, after all. The room was dripping with it, black, gold, and dark, burgundy. Candles dripping hot wax down into careful carafes, soon to be poured and decorating your skin. It was romantic, it was warm, and it was lustful. Astarions eyes never left you, dancing across your body in pure sin, he clearly knew exactly how your night would unfold, and the only hint he'd give you was the devilish smile on his lips.

"It's going to be a long night, hm?"

"Oh yes, darling" Astarion purred, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling downwards, revealing your neck to him. His fangs scraped against your bare skin, but not piercing it, no, that was for later, with much less clothing and a lot more sweat, when all you could see was his snow-white skin and the blood rushing through your veins.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 11 - Breast Worship (18+)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1k (whoops) Content: Smut with a little bit of plot beforehand because why not? 18+ MDNI, Gojo calls Reader sweetheart a lot I’m sorry (I never really took Gojo for a pet name kind of guy but him saying sweetheart does something for me I dunno) Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: This is now my second time writing smut and it’s still probably cringe but it’s okay!!! We learn!! And grow!!! . . . hopefully. This was also meant to be less than 1k but here we are at 2k words. . . this is why it’s a day late. I wanted to make sure everything made sense and worked well!

What you said to him last night hasn’t left his brain all day. He crosses his arms and looks over towards you. You’re teaching the first years some defensive techniques out in the training grounds. Helping the kids out and smiling through it all as if what happened last night doesn’t bother you. It should. . . 

He needs to fix his mistake. . . now. He walks himself to the fields and doesn’t acknowledge his students.

“Satoru?”

“Gojo-sensei! What are you-?” Before Yuji could finish, you disappear with Gojo from their vision.

“What. . . just happened?” Yuji turns to Megumi who shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Hell if I know.”

In a blink of your eye you went from teaching your students outside to being back in your apartment room with Gojo holding onto your arm with no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

“Satoru, what-?”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“Oh.” You crack a smile, “Is that what you’re worried about? It’s alright.” You try to take his hand off your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Satoru, we’re both busy. I’m not actually expecting you to take your time with me. It’s been like this for so long, I’m used to it at this point.” His mouth hangs agape at your admission.

“You’re used to me rushing into sex?”

You give him a questioning look, “. . .yes?”

He moves his hands to lift your head up so your eyes can meet his, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, like I said we’re both busy-”

“We aren’t right now.”

You look away from him, sighing, “That’s because you forced me out of teaching the first year's combat.”

“Let me make it up to you. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”

You pause and really look at him this time. He’s looking at you with so much devotion that your lips part and whisper, “Okay.”

In an instant he pulls your face towards his and he kisses you with a passion you’d never felt from him before. It’s slow at first really getting a feel for each other, like you’d never really see each other again. His hands move from your face down to your body as he takes his time feeling each part of you. You step closer towards him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and your hands effortlessly taking off his bandana.

Once it’s off he pulls away from you, holding you by your waist, a smirk gracing his lips. Before you can make a remark he leans down and quickly grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you up.

You wrap your legs around his torso as his arms keep you steady. Your hands cup his face as you smile down at him, but before you can kiss him again he starts kissing your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access and you can feel him smile against your throat. With careful steps he’s able to walk you both to your bedroom and he guides you down to your bed.

Satoru slowly works his way down, hands carefully removing your teaching uniform. You try to sit up to help him take off his clothes but he gently pushes you back onto the bed once he has your shirt off, “I’ve got this sweetheart~ Just relax.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a soft moan as Satoru takes one of your boobs in his hand. He sighs contentedly, bringing his other hand up to join and soon just burying his face in between them. 

“I could live here forever,” He mutters between kissing them.

“You do sleep on my chest a lot Toru,” You breath out, your hands playing with his hair.

He hums in response as he kisses one of your nipples, his tongue slowly swirling around it. You back arches towards his body as he just smiles and looks up at you.

“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive here,”

He switches to the other, making sure to give both sides the proper attention. When he is kissing and sucking on one side, his hand is massaging the other, his finger gently circling around your nipple. Your moans become a little louder and you start squirming from his touch, trying to relieve the tension working through your body.

Your hips buck up to meet his and you can already feel how painfully hard he is, you both moan at the contact, your head rolling to the side. He continues to kiss down your body, making sure not to miss a single area. You can’t help but whine when he eventually stops kissing your boobs, but he does keep a hand up there to keep playing with your nipples, tweaking them ever so gently to hear you moan his name again.

Satoru kneels at the end of the bed, pulling you towards him so that he can take off your skirt and underwear in one motion. Once you’re fully bare to him, he puts his hands on your thighs, placing them on his shoulders as he slowly brings his face up towards your pussy.

He gets close enough that you can feel his breath on you. You try to push yourself onto him, but he backs away, a teasing smile on his face. 

“I thought someone wanted me to take my time with this,” He kisses the inside of your thigh and he can feel your legs tense with anticipation. “I mean you're already so wet for me, and I haven’t even given you proper attention.” His fingers quickly press onto your clit and before you can rock your hips into his hand, he pulls away.

“Please. . .” you whine and he just laughs, “Please. . . what?” A mischievous glint appears in his eyes as he waits for you to finish your sentence.

You prop yourself up from your elbows, “Please just eat me-!” Your head leans back as you moan, unable to finish your sentence because Satoru buries his face into your cunt, truly a starved man.

You’re able to hear the lewd sounds of Satoru eating you out, hearing him moan against your pussy, licking up every part of you that he can. One of his hands reaches up your body, grabbing onto your boobs, continuing what he was doing earlier only this time he’s pinching your nipples a little bit harder, borderline groping your boobs. 

With every twist he did, you can feel your body tense further, slowly reaching your breaking point. You grab the back of his head and push him closer to yourself, wanting to chase the high.

You can feel him smile as he continues to eat you out, his hand remaining on your breast, gently twisting. His tongue works faster as he continues to work it inside your walls, his nose brushing against your clit every now and again. You grip onto his hair tighter, pushing his mouth towards your clit and he finally relents, giving you what you want.

His mouth wraps around your clit and he starts using his tongue to stimulate it. You instantly wrap your legs around his head, crying out his name. You feel yourself crest over the edge and you start cumming against his mouth. He doesn’t let up, constantly licking up everything your body is giving him. He only stops once you start pushing yourself away from him instinctively from being overstimulated.

Your body lays flat on the bed, a hand reaching down towards him for him to join you. When he stands up, your mouth opens slightly, staring at awe of him fucking himself in his hand. He looks down at your blissed out gaze, “Like what you see?”

You nod your head at him and you try to stand, but your legs keep shaking. He stops what he’s doing to hold onto your shoulders to help you stand, “Sweetheart, what-?”

“I want to help you,” You kneel down in front of him and his breath hitches. He shakes his head, “You don’t have to-” 

You hold up your boobs in front of him as best you can, “I want to,” you peer up at him through your eyelashes, blinking towards him, “Please.” 

His hand goes back to his cock, moving it up and down with ease, like he’s done countless times before, only this time you’re right in front of him watching, taking mental notes of what he likes.

“I’ve always wanted this y’know,” He lines his cock up in between your boobs as you push them together. He groans as you set a slow pace up and down his cock, looking up at him with a small smile on your lips.

“It’s all I’ve thought about these past few days, just fucking your tits. They’re just so-” You start moving faster, dribbling spit onto his cock to make it slide better, “So fucking perfect.”

He grabs onto them and starts fucking your boobs at a relentless pace, his hands squeezing them and twisting your nipples again causing you to moan out.

“So fucking pretty on your knees for me. I wish I could do this to you every time. Shit-”

He throws his head back, moaning with you as you can start to feel the familiar build up growing in your cunt. Without a second thought you start toying with your clit, helping to bring yourself to cum with him. 

In a few more thrusts his brows pinch together as he looks down at you, and when he sees you touching yourself he starts cumming. He stops holding your boobs and holds onto his cock, painting white ropes all over your chest. You can feel the tension building up, but you just needed some help to get over the edge.

You moan out his name and Satoru immediately understands what you need, “Come on sweetheart, come for me,” He crashes his lips onto your and you feel yourself topple over the edge and start cumming for a second time. You moan into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his shoulders. He lifts you up with ease and brings you both over to your bed, gently placing you down.

Once you’re sitting on the bed, he goes over to the bedside drawer and pulls out a clean washcloth. He wipes it across your chest, removing the sticky cum and cleaning you up. He wipes himself down too, before he joins you in the bed.

“Need anything else?” He asks, slipping on his boxers,

You hold your hand out to him, “No, just you.” You say softly. He smiles and joins you in bed, holding you close as you both come down from your high.

You both just lay there for a moment, holding onto each other. He gives you small kisses on your back and you hold onto his arms tighter.

“Can I tell you something?” Satoru hums at you, waiting for you to tell him. You cover your face in embarrassment.

“Don’t laugh.”

He tightens his hold around you, “Fine.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard before,”

 He lets go of you and gives you an incredulous look, “Seriously?!”

You turn to face him, “It’s not like you couldn’t make me cum before but-” 

“Never that hard?!”

“Toru just-” You bring your hands up to his face.

“Holy fuck I’m bad at sex if that’s the first time -”

“It’s not! I just- I don’t know, felt more appreciated. Felt more loved that time, like you had all the time in the world to give to me.”

He finally stills, and reaches up to hold your hand, “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I wanted to but those fucking Elders-”

“I know, always giving us last minute missions.” You drop your hands from his face and turn back around facing away from him.

“I’m glad they didn’t disturb us right now,” He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close to him, “Because we can always go for another round, if you’re up for it~”

You can feel his cock start to get hard behind you and you grind up against him.

“I mean. . . I wouldn’t be opposed.” You breathe out.

Satoru grins as he starts kissing your neck again. The less you knew about one of the Elders overhearing you two in your room the better; besides now this really meant he could take all of his time with you.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 4

Damian's face twisted in disgust at the offending object.

Phantom's quirked in confusion. He nudged the massive striped bass towards the smaller siren. "What's wrong?"

"I am a vegetarian." Damian huffed. "And it's raw."

"Oh. Uh, whoops." Phantom shrugged. "I don't know how to break it to you, dude, but, like... There's not much better to eat out there."

Damian glared at him. "I would rather starve."

Perhaps he was being too stubborn. With a buffoon of a companion such as this, the situation was better treated as a survival scenario than a mere mission. Damian was no fool. Vegetarianism was a luxury afforded to those with the food abundance to choose.

That, and it had been a solid sixteen hours since his last meal. His tail felt sore and aching in a way he hadn't felt in years. His stomach growled and groaned, demanding something to fill it.

The last time he felt a hunger like this was when he was still in the League, when they sent him out on weeks long missions where he starved under moonlight and ate birds and rats to survive.

"Come on, Damian, you need to eat something." Phantom cajoled, as if his puppy-eyed look could ever match that of Richard's. "And the seaweed's not gonna sustain you. Believe me I tried."

"Are sirens obligate carnivores?"

"No, but-"

"Then tell me why I cannot sustain myself off of kelp and seaweed?"

"Dude, those things have literally no calories in them."

A valid point, but just because he was right did not mean Damian had to cede the point so easily. "Is the siren species so primitive as to not have cultivated plants in order to sustain their population?"

"I literally don't know how to answer that dude. Do I look like an ambassador or something to you?"

Damian frowned.

"Look, it's getting late and we'll need all the rest we can get. I promise it doesn't taste that bad. We'll try and work something out tomorrow, how's that?"

Damian sighed. "Very well, but only because I very my life, thank you very much."

"Thank god for that..."

Damian unwrapped himself from his tail, and approached the poor fish. "I am terribly sorry, fish. I will not let your sacrifice be in vain." He muttered.

He looked up to find Phantom with a small knife, cutting up the fish into messy fillets, like this was the first time he'd done so. Peculiar. Surely he had lived off fish his entire life, and had deboned many before this moment.

"Just so you don't get poked in the mouth by a bone or two. Those things suck."

Phantom offered a strip of meat. Shutting his eyes, Damian took the food, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing minimally before swallowing.

The taste was... acceptable.

More than acceptable. perhaps.

It would be a shame to let the fish's death go to waste.

...

Damian sank his teeth into the side of the fish, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head from the taste.

Some time later...

Danny floats back into the cave, a handful of kelp bundled up in his arms. "Hey Damian, look I know this situation sucks for you, like in every way, so I went out and got some greens for you, just so it's not all meat and- Wait, Damian?"

The boy in question slept fastly, his fins gently drifting back in forth in the small currents caused by Danny's entrance. His head was slumped against the bass he'd brought in earlier, little strips of fish still stuck in his teeth.

Now that he wasn't making faces and being angry at Danny, he was honestly pretty cute.

Danny wiped some of the bits of meat off Damian's cheek, careful not to scratch his soft scales with a misplaced claw. Despite being so small, Damian managed to chew through a sizable portion of the fish that was easily half his size or more.

Setting the child's body to the side, and draping a small blanket over him, Danny set to finishing off the rest.

He hoped everyone back home wouldn't worry too much. If the GiW boats didn't clear out by tomorrow, then they were in for a big problem. He and Tucker were working on making waterproof earpieces, but they weren't ready yet, and his waterproof phone had been left in his room when he'd rushed out to get Damian back. That meant no communication with Amity Island whatsoever. No way to get in contact with Bruce Wayne, and no way for his friends to know he and Damian were ok.

He was really in over his head, wasn't he?

The morning came with a very loud wake up call.

"YO BABYPOP!"

Danny jolted awake and bumped his head into the nearest desk overhead. "Who's attacking us?!"

Beside him, Damian jerked himself into a defensive stance (or as close to one as he could manage.)

The curtains of the cave were pushed open, allowing streams of sunlight to stream in and blind the boy with its glare. Peeking into the cave was the head of one Ember McClain, a vicious grin plastering her face.

"You never told me you got a kid!"

Damian chirped indignantly.

Danny sputtered. "Whawhwh Wh Wait a second!"

Ember pulled out of the cave, and squealed. "Yo Kitty! Dipstick's got himself a kid!"

A woosh of water rushed past, and Kitty's neon green and teal scales showed themselves. "Omg! Phantom aren't you like fifteen? What the heck?!"

Danny blushed deeply teal. "He's not mine I swear!"

Ember pushed Kitty out of the way. "Oh my gosh he's so tiny. Who's the lucky woman?? Or man??? Phantom what have you been getting up to without us?!"

Damian hissed at him from behind Danny's shoulder (when did he get there?) "Begone, harpies! And cease your accusations! I would sooner perish than be related in any way to this incompetent fool."

Ember trilled in adoration. "He's so freaking adorable. Where did you get him, Babypop? An orphanage??"

Danny would've done a spittake, if he was above water. "W-what?! Dude, literally where would even find an orphanage around here?"

"Did his parents dump you on him like Johnny was?"

"Uh I'm not even gonna question that."

Ember clasped her hands to her mouth in scandalous shock. "No way, did you finally turn to the dark side and kidnap him?"

Damian piped up again, gripping on Danny's shoulders with his unsheathed claws and rising higher. "Nonsense, I claim no familial relationship with this person, not by blood, law, or emotion. He is as close to me as any stranger would."

"Ouch Damian. I literally saved your life."

Ember and Kitty chortled and shorted. They clutched their bellies and lead against the walls of the cave. "It's just... PFPFTT Phantom you total scoundrel, ahah!"

"Yeah yeah, look I gotta get this kid back to his dad on Amity, and quick. He's probably losing his mind over there."

Kitty gasped. "So you did turn him."

Danny shushed them. "Don't scream it out for the whole ocean to hear!"

He rushed out the entrance of the cave and shooed them in, covering the doorway up as they entered.

"Look I'd really, really rather you guys keep this on the down low. This is kind of a huge deal right now." Danny said.

He turned to Damian, still perched on his shoulder, his little tail brushing against Danny's ghostly white sail. "Is it ok if I tell them?"

"if it will convince them to vacate the premises."

"If you have to know, Damian's the son of some ultra rich guy. Skulker got him for whatever reason, and I was forced to turn him."

"Dude, Skulker went for a literal child?!" Ember clenched her first, likely hiding her extending claws. Right, Skulker was a bit of a touchy subject for her. "Of his own kind, no less?!"

"That's fucking low, girl."

"And now the GiW are going crazy too. Probalby got a huge donation or whatever. We're just waiting untli they go away so I can get Damian back to his dad, without any dissections. That also means none of you guys should be going near the place either."

"Pfft, too late for that."

Danny froze. "Who did they get?"

"Relaaxx, Dipstick. I was just preparing another concert, only for like fifty boats to show up out of fuckin' nowhere. Luckily I heard them before they saw me, but come on! I was miles from Amity at that point!"

"Miles?" Damian whispered.

Danny felt the same way too. They were only increasing their patrols now, shit.

"It's bad enough that the rest of the Pod are freaking migrating. We haven't migrated in years!"

"Yeah, actually, Phantom you wanna join us? I know you have this whole, err, thing, with Amity Island, but we hardly see you. And Johnny's been itching for a rematch."

Danny looked over his shoulder, to where Damian was lost in thought. This might have been the first them he'd seen the kid not glaring.

"Thanks for the offer, but I need to get Damian home. It's my fault he's like this, and he's got a whole family out there waiting for him."

"Don't you too?"

Danny swallowed a thick of water. He did have a family, a family that was probably going crazy. But at least part of that family, and his friends, knew he could take care of himself, knew that he was a siren, knew that the water was his element. Damian's family didn't have that luxury.

"We'll figure it out."

The girls shared a look, and shrugged. "The offer still stands, Babypop. Oh, and i'll be sure to fuckin' dice Skulker next time i see him, lying, cheatin' bastard.

For a moment, the boys watched the two siren teens' trailing tails, before they turned a corner and disappeared.

"Gotham."

"What was that?" Danny asked.

"If Amity Island is inaccessible to us, then we have to go to Gotham."

"Isn't Gotham-"

"On the East Coast? Yes, it is. It's our only option."

"That's thousands of miles, and you can't even walk!"

"Would you rather we stay here, waiting for the GiW to approach us and kill us both?"

Danny clenched his jaw. Damian was right, wasn't he.

"The only way to reunite me with Father is to go to Gotham. They will not be expecting us there."

"How can you be so sure?"

Damian dislodged himself from Danny's shoulder and floated in front of him. "Because they are unaware of the sirens' power of transformation, am I correct?"

"Good point, but wait, how did you know that?"

"I did some cursory research before coming here. The prevailing theories put forth by the supposed 'experts' on the matter asserted that sirens eat their human victims, with no mentions of turning. They have no reason to believe I am not dead., and no reason to suspect any siren activity in Gotham."

"And you're ok with that. Thousands of miles of swimming in the endless ocean full of things wanting to eat you?"

"Are you not?"

"Ok ok, calm down." Danny had to chuckle though. Rich as this kid may be, he was definitely not spoilt enough to sit still and wait for his dad to save him.

"And the fastest way to get to Gotham is via the Panama Canal." Damian puffed his chest out in what was probably pride. Danny stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Have I ever jested to you before?"

"No seriously. The Panama Canal. You realise that place is monitored up and down, right? Literally the moment we get spotted, the locks are gonna, you know, lock down, and then we'll be stranded and sitting ducks to be chopped up by the GiW."

"That will not be an issue. You possess the power of camouflage, do you not? And again, they will not be expecting us in Panama, so they will have no reason to bring any sonars there."

Danny wanted to bang his head against the wall. This idea sounded so stupid, but not stupid enough that it was unfeasable.

"In addition, you said it yourself. Your negligence resulted in my permanent loss of humanity, so it is your responsibility to do whatever you can do right your wrong."

Shit. Came with being the son of a businessman, didn't it? This kid was guilttripping the hell out of him and Danny could honestly not say he didn't deserve it.

"Fiiiine. We're going to Panama."

"Excellent." Damian grinned. "Let us leave immediately."

Danny could only pray that none of the 50 things that could go wrong, did go wrong, but when was his luck ever that good?

No, instead, Danny strapped in whatever supplies he had laying around in the cave. To Panama we go...

[loganwritesprobably]

– Sanji with the 2° genre, prompt (u.) 🍡

You know, I never would've paired this prompt with Sanji, but I think its more harsh nature pairs itself well with a masculine reader, so that's what I'll do! This ended up being pretty long so everything is under the cut

Since this is the first one I'll be posting like this I'll just explain - anything where you only requested one character, I assumed was to be paired with a Reader, since I struggled with making a lot of them work as a solo thing.

Content/warnings: Sanji/M!Reader, hurt/comfort, getting together, reader is insecure, Sanji is kinda cruel at the start whoops, Sanji has a gay awakening

You'd been acting off all day, you knew you had, and while the crew hadn't mentioned it you were aware they'd noticed and that they were beginning to worry. Generally, you kept in high spirits. Not today. It wasn't any much, your insecurities had just been getting to you lately. You also felt ridiculous for letting that spoil your mood all day, which was only making your mood worse. You were the least attractive person on the crew, in your opinion (outside of Chopper because who is calling a kid attractive). Most days, you let yourself be confident in the fact that it didn't matter because that didn't make you ugly and you had a good personality so why did looks matter. Some days it bothered you anyway.

You were docked at an island while the log pose set, and pretty much all of the crew had received attention from people (of their preferred gender and not), outside of Chopper, but again, he didn't count (and he'd still had a group of teenage girls call him cute). You? You'd not gotten a single comment or even a look. It just made your stomach twist. It was stupid and you knew it, but it was eating you up inside. Worrying about that just led to more worrying about other things and you were spiralling a little even if you were attempting to pretend you weren't. It wasn't working.

"What's your problem?" Sanji asked as he emerged from the kitchen having just finished cleaning all the dishes from lunch.

"I don't want to talk about it, Sanji." He'd not gotten much attention from women, but oh boy had Sanji gotten attention from men. He'd brushed every one of them off, rather unkindly, and that hurt too. You'd had a bit of a crush on Sanji for ages now, but moments like that told you that you couldn't ever share that fact with the cook.

"Then stop moping! It doesn't help anything, and it's not great for the mood on board." He retorted with a roll of his eyes, and you rubbed a hand over your face with a sigh. You didn't want to lash out, but you really didn't have the emotional availability to be kind in that moment.

"Sorry Sanji, my bad, I'll just pack it all up and ignore it all - God forbid I have fucking feelings." You snapped, pushing off the railing of the Sunny where you'd been leaving to walk away. You didn't want to deal with his shitty attitude today of all days.

-·—·-—-·—·-

You'd hidden away to calm yourself down, then taken a shower to release some of the negative feelings you'd had pent up. Residual negative emotions lingered, of course they did, but you were more prepared to push them aside and put on a happy face. You emerged on the deck and sat down with Robin to talk about the book she'd been reading, allowing yourself and your better mood to be more easily seen by the crew.

"What happened? You really looked upset." Nami asked after a few minutes, having come to sit in her usual spot beside Robin.

"Oh, nothing. Just had a chat with Sanji." You said with a shrug, smiling at them as best as you could.

"I hope you're not spoiling these ladies days with your foul mood." Sanji said as he appeared with two drinks, one for each of the ladies in question. Robin and Nami snapped their heads to look at him, unbelieving he could be so cruel.

"No don't worry Sanji - I took your advice and just got over it. Won't catch me moping again. I'll keep that to myself from now on." You replied, mock kindness on your face and in your voice. You weren't going to start an argument with him, but that didn't mean you couldn't be passive aggressive at least. He fixed a hard gaze on you, but kept his smile in place. Wisely, he said nothing, and left the drinks for Nami and Robin before swiftly returning to the kitchen.

-·—·-—-·—·-

You spent the rest of the day avoiding Sanji, even having asked Robin to save you a plate of food so you could eat away from the rest of the crew and mainly away from Sanji. She'd delivered your plate loyally, and just gave you a smile before leaving you to eat in peace.

Eventually though, the plate did need to be returned to the kitchen. It'd long since gone dark, and you were just hoping that Sanji was elsewhere by now.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," you heard muttered from the kitchen, pausing outside to listen to whoever was so frustrated inside, "can't even be nice just for once. He just makes me so-" it was Sanji, of course it was. You weren't sure what else you'd been expecting. But he was in there, scolding himself, and it sounded like he was doing it over how he'd treated you.

You didn't knock, just pushed open the door and let yourself in, plate still in hand. Sanji stopped stock still, staring at you as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. You gently set the plate down on the table, pausing for a moment before turning as if to leave again.

"Wait-" Sanji called out, making you pause. There was another beat of silence while the cook found his words.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, hesitating before continuing, "I was unnecessarily cruel. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah." You simply said, because just saying that wouldn't make him forgiven. You'd never done anything to him, you'd both just always had a joking friendship, where you'd take playful jabs at each other. They were never genuinely cruel.

"I just-" he paused again, fighting with himself to find his words, "you make me.. feel a lot of things that I don't know how to deal with. I just look at you and it all.. bubbles up inside of me and for some reason the only thing that ever gets out is something mean. What I said earlier was too far, and I am sorry. I was just worried." He finished, and you finally turned to face him. Sanji was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was fighting not to put them elsewhere - his hair your brain helpfully supplied.

"Okay," you started, nodding slowly, "but that isn't a good reason. You didn't even try to get me to tell you. You didn't probe at all, you were rude when you asked what was wrong and then accused me of ruining the atmosphere on the Sunny. That's what you told me and best you can come up with is you were 'feeling a lot of feelings'?" You asked, growing more and more angry, but also more upset. You knew you couldn't have Sanji the way that you wanted him, but you'd at least wanted him as a friend. Maybe that was too much to ask for.

"I'm sorry! I'm not good with words - I can't make my brain tell my mouth what I'm thinking and I really want to help you understand even if you don't forgive me." You would forgive him, you knew you would, this would be petty to lose him over and would jeopardise the crew. But you couldn't be the same after this.

"Try."

"It's different than with other people. You feel- you make me feel different. I don't understand why. I just look at you and it's like.. the whole world stops moving for a minute," Sanji leaned forward, resting his hands on the table and stared right down at the wood rather than looking at you, "I've never felt like that before. It's scary. How am I meant to deal with something I don't understand? So I'm mean to you instead because maybe then it'll go away? I know it sounds stupid. And then when we're out and people look at you.. something just comes over me. I hate it. I just glare at them until they back down because they're not allowed to look at you like that."

You understood suddenly what Sanji was talking about. All this time you'd been so sure of what you couldn't have and in the background Sanji was having his gay awakening because of you. You were desperately trying to hold back, but you couldn't help laughing. He shot up straight as if he'd been struck, wounded by your laughter.

"I'm sorry- I know this is serious. I promise I'm not laughing at you, just the situation really. Sanji.. you have a crush on me. That's what that is." You told him, slowly approaching to close the space between you two.

"No! I- I like women." He defended, but he was hesitant, as if your words had given him clarity.

"Sure. But you also like me."

The two of you stood, silent, staring at each other. You, waiting for Sanji to decide what the next move was, and Sanji, processing the new information. In retrospect, he realised it was a little obvious.

"I acted like a little boy pulling on a girl's pigtails." Sanji muttered, suddenly a little humiliated.

"Yeah, a little bit." You agreed, and the cook just sighed. You both fell into quiet laughter finally, the tension of the entire situation drifting away.

"So uh.." Sanji started after a while, you let him find his words before responding, "what now?"

"That's up to you. I've liked you back for a damn long while now, but you've only just realised. You can go and take your time to process that new part of yourself if you w-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before Sanji's lips were on yours for the first time.

Yeah, now you definitely wouldn't be the same after this.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[sunbaby01]

Sweeter than usual

Conrad Fisher x reader

“I’ll take care of this guys” Conrad flashed his fake ID around the car ignoring Jeremiah’s baffled “with that?” and the giggles coming from Belly and Emmy in the backseat.

It only took 5 minutes of then staring at the store in silence before Conrad came out the store empty handed.

“Oh, no. What, ID didn’t work Mr Herbertson?” Jeremiah leaned out the window mockingly at Conrad before winking at Belly who was also leaning out of her window too.

“Fuck off. At least I have one” Conrad drawled, raising his middle finger to emphasise his words. Emmy tried to ignore the way his attitude sent chills down her spine, really she did. Honest.

“What?” Jeremiah scoffed moving out the car, “listen, it’s cause I don’t need one all right? Jumper and I are tight, we’re like bros. C’mon how hard could it be?” He shut the door behind him flashing a smirk at them all ‘watch and learn’ he mouthed.

Famous last words.

“Watch and learn my ass” Emmy snorted.

“Awww look at that face” Conrad teased and Belly laughed at the pair.

“So, what? Do you want to, like, pay someone to in and buy it for us or…?” Jere started.

“Try a different store? Hop a few towns over where they don’t know us as well?” Conrad finished.

Belly and Emmy looked at one another in the back seat, communicating with their eyes. The long years of being best friends allowed that sort of thing. Emmy lifted a brow first as if to say ‘you’re up’

Belly sighed “Yeah, I just don’t think that anyone is gonna buy your Guam ID”

“I mean who even chooses Guam-“ Emmy leant forward resting her chin on Conrad’s seat.

“I’d love to hear your plan Belly. And don’t even get me started Emmeline. I don’t see either of you heading to the store” Conrad turned to make eye contact with Emmy holding her gaze.

“Why don’t I just go in and ask?” Belly said confidently. Too confidently.

“That’s not gonna work” Conrad disagreed, Jeremiah nodded along. “It won’t”

“Okay” Belly shrugged and got out the car.

“Yeah I didn’t think that was her plan” Emmy sighed and rubbed her hand over her face and in Belly’s defence, inside the store she’d been the closest to success and yet still left empty handed.

“Well now what?” Jere asked the four once again.

“Emmy…” Belly started.

“No” the girl stopped her.

“But look at your outfit you could so do it. And, you’ve done it before-“ she contributed

“Leave the clothes out of it Belly. And yeah I’ve done it. At home with friends. In desperate times, not here in cousins”

The boys looked at one another in confusion before Belly caught Conrad’s eye lifting a brow the boy immediately understanding what she needed.

“C’mon Emmy this is a desperate time” he begged her, looking at her in the way he reserved for her, feeling a grin pull at his lips when she rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

“Conrad Fisher, you fucking owe me,” she pointed to the eldest boy.

“Anything you want” he allowed himself to smile at her flushed cheeks, “so what’s actually happening?” he looked back to his brother when both girls stepped out the car, the siblings rushing to follow them. When Conrad rounded the back of the car his eyes widened slightly. Emmy’s denim skirt been undone and rolled down at the waistband and her halter top adjusted to show more cleavage. Well, shit. She’d already looked hot but this? This was too much.

“Hey…uh maybe we should just drive a town over after all?” He tried to remain cool rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes flickering down at the girl.

“It’ll be the same there,” she sighed, “who did you say was working today?” She asked Jere groaning once again when he reminded her it was Jumper.

“Fuck” she mumbled, ignoring Belly’s whoop and Jeremiah’s whistle as she walked towards the store emphasising her hips as she did so. She couldn’t, however, ignore Conrad’s eyes burning into her.

“Maybe we should go get her?” Conrad tapped his foot, gaze not breaking from the store door.

“Connie it’s been like 2 minutes” Jere smacked his back moving to wrap his arms around Belly.

“Two minute too fucking long” he huffed, looking at the sky.

“Better open the trunk boys!” Her voice called out and he snapped his gaze back down seeing her grin as she walked towards them. Jumper may as well have been hypnotised the way he was following her and looking at her. Conrad clenched his jaw.

“Don’t get pulled over and god if you do? I’ll claim you stole in on my shift. I’ll see you tonight?” Jumper turned his attention to Emmy and ran his eyes over her one more time not noticing her noncommittal nod before heading back to work.

“What?” She asked Conrad who just stared blankly. “Half cherry, half coke” she shrugged and held out the cups to Jere and Belly who smiled in thanks already sipping them and heading to the car. She then pulled out the lolly from her pocket quickly ridding the wrapper and placing the candy in her mouth.

“Nothing for me?” Conrad questioned lifting the final crate of alcohol into the trunk and closing it.

“You hate slushys say they’re too sugary..” she trailed off as he stepped closer to her.

“I still like sweet things” he corrected her, reaching forward and pulled her hand holding the sucker towards his mouth.

“Mmm” he moaned slightly, “sweeter than usual” Conrad smirked, heading back towards the drivers seat.

Well, fuck.

[hollandsfavbabe]

Popsicle Pairs

pairing: dad!tom holland x mom!reader

synopsis: in which you and tom decide to enjoy more than just popsicles until your son intrudes

warnings: super cliché, bathroom talk(toddler training)

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a/n: based off of that one super cliche imagine if anyone knows what I’m talking about. i can’t find it anywhere on the internet, but trust me, it’s a thing. really i just had to get this out of my drafts ... enjoy!

“MOMMY!” your toddler shouted from the hall bathroom, eager to show you his latest accomplishment. You rushed from your position in the kitchen, leaving the ingredient cupboard open as your son took priority over starting dinner.

It was just three years ago that you and Tom were blessed with your wonderful son, though it felt like only a week. And now as he started to get bigger, you had begun every parent's favorite process when raising a toddler … not. Indeed it was potty training time. Helping your son switch from diapers to undies was a challenge for you two, but with Tom’s optimism and your determination, you were both sure you could do it. The trek had been long, but you were close to completing one hell of an accomplishment.

You took baby steps, starting by rewarding your little boy with soft candy whenever he simply alerted you that needed to go to giving him a treat when he had gone in the actual bathroom, whether he had taken off his diaper or not. Now, bigger steps caused for bigger rewards, so when he started actually using the loo you upgraded his reward to half of a popsicle, his favorite sweet.

When you arrived at the door of the bathroom your son was excited to inform you that he had yet again earned another popsicle half.

“Nice job buddy!” you congratulated before helping him to reach the sink so that he could wash his hands the way you taught him to.

When you were finished you both left for the kitchen, only to be greeted by your husband Tom. He stood outside the bathroom door with a curious expression.

“Did you make it again?” he asked, referring to your son’s triumph. The little boy nodded in reply, jumping up and reaching his hands into the air, gesturing for Tom to pick him up.

“I did it daddy, I did it!” he squealed excitedly.

“Oh I’m so proud!”

“Can I have my popsicle now?” your son asked, eyes widening.

“I don’t know, it’s awfully close to dinner. You’ll have to ask your mother.” Tom replied, looking at you as he waited to hear your decision. Your son turned towards you too, eager to hear what you had to say as if he could burst out of your husband’s arms, quite possibly the definition of jumping out of a seat from excitement. You let out a defeated sigh. You supposed your son could stray from his normal meal plan for one night.

“Sure.” you answered. Your son cheered in Tom’s arms, delighted by your conclusion. “It’s too late to start dinner anyways. I’ll just order a pizza.”

“Yeah, pizza!” your son whooped. You couldn’t help, but giggle at his reaction as you pulled out your phone to order the food. Tom chuckled with you walking off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Let’s choose a flavor while mommy orders. What kind do you want?” Tom asked, opening the fridge as he got close to it.

“Blue! I want blue!” your son demanded and so he was given what he desired.

Tom set him down as he handed over half of a blue popsicle, grinning at his son who was overjoyed by the frozen delight.

“The blue one is my favorite.” your son said, sticking the popsicle in his mouth.

“Oh really,” smiled Tom. “And why is that?”

“It colors my tongue!” exclaimed your son, showing his now blue stained tongue to his father. Tom laughed at the little boy, bending down and tickling his sides the way the boy loved.

“Silly.” grinned Tom and the two both broke into contagious fits of laughter.

----------

Two empty pizza boxes lay on the kitchen table, the food they once contained now long gone in the digestion process as you and Tom laid your son in his bed, tucking him in before wishing him goodnight. He nestled his head into his pillow and bid you goodnight, ready for sleep. It was when you heard soft snores that you closed the bedroom door gently behind you.

Tom took your hand as you closed your son’s door, leading you away from his room and back into the kitchen where once again he opened the freezer.

“There’s two halves of two different popsicles left over that I doubt he’s gonna miss. Do you want red or blue?” He asked you, having no care which flavor he had himself.

“Red.” you replied, prompting your husband to hand over half of a red popsicle, the wood underneath sticking out the top, untouched by the knife you used to cut it for your son. Tom took a similar looking blue one for himself and together you peeled off the already opened wrapper and started licking them.

Tired of standing, you led Tom to the nearby sofa in the living room, taking a seat on one of the cushions and patting the one beside you for your husband to sit on to which he happily obliged, allowing you to lay on him as you both got comfortable.

“Today was a good day.” you stated mindlessly, almost finished with your popsicle. Tom set down the now bare stick of his and wrapped his hands around your waist as you laid on him, placing feather light kisses to your hairline.

“It was indeed.”

You were finished with your popsicle now, setting the stick on top of Tom’s discarded one, you turned around in his lap to face him, sitting up so that you could better see his features, better admire the structure that made up his heavenly face.

He plucked one of your hands from your lap and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it while grinning at you.

“I love you.” you blurted, the words falling from your lips easily as he showered you in affection.

“I love you too.” He replied, pressing another kiss to your knuckle.

“No way.” you whispered with obvious sarcasm.

“Yes way,” Tom joked right back before moving his other hand to the bone above your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your face as he gazed into your eyes. “Would you care for me to show you just how much I love you?”

You smirked, giggling as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yes please,” you nodded.

Tom scanned your smirk and no longer stalled to kiss it away as his lips met yours.

It was slow at first and built as you went along. It wasn’t very long before his tongue was in your mouth forcing a groan out of you.

You wanted to take it further, almost suggesting he carry you to your shared bedroom, but as your son walked into the living room you pushed yourself away from your husband and erased any lewd thoughts from your mind. You swore he had been asleep no more than five minutes ago.

Luckily he hadn’t seen anything and forchabtly for a three year old, smug red faces and crazy hair were not clear indications to him of what had been going on.

“What’s up honey?” you asked, blushing furiously after being nearly caught.

“I did it again!” he cheered with such pride in himself. You smiled, smoothing down some of the strands that were out of place as you stood to usher him out of the room, Tom by your side.

“Good job bud!” your husband praised.

“Can I have another popsicle before bed?” your son asked, ironically also taking notice of the two sticks on the table.

“Did you and daddy have some?” he questioned curiously.

You nodded with Tom, picking up the sticks to throw them in the nearest bin.

“Yep, we did.” you affirmed.

“Oh cool!” your son grinned. “Can I see your colored tongue?”

You shrugged and opened your mouth, Tom doing the same so that your son could see. Instantly the face of your toddler skewed into one of confusion and you felt immediate guilt.

“How’d you get purple tongues if there aren’t purple popsicles?”

You looked at Tom absolutely mortified, catching sight of his purple tongue before he shared your expression.

“Uhhh…”

[tracybirds]

Where Parallel Lines Meet (8/?)

If we could all ignore the fact that this took me 1.5 years to update, that would be great, thanks

It's.... been a time for me, but I'm so glad I've finally been able to have the brain space and the energy to finish this chapter <3 I hope you enjoy, and once again thank you heaps to @gumnut-logic for cheering me on!

Title is adapted from a line in Sarah Howes’ poem ‘Relativity’ (scroll to the bottom of the article)

A fight between John and Alan is followed by an interstellar storm with unexpected consequences.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7] | [Part 8]

---

“Hey, Alan, dinner time!”

Gordon’s voice echoed in his headphones, and Alan pulled them off with a grin as he paused his game.

It had been a week and he still felt the thrill of knowing his family would all be there, just like they were before global chaos had squeezed them out of their lives on the island.

Gordon was pulling a face at Kayo as she laughed, happily grounded along with the rest of them, as Alan sidled into his seat. Scott held his fork halfway to his mouth, busy scrawling notes on a tablet as Grandma fussed at him to put his work away.

Scott absently tried to wave her off, only for his food to fly off his fork and land squarely in Grandma Tracy’s lap.

She said nothing, only stared at Scott with raised eyebrows as he put the tablet away with burning cheeks.

Alan grabbed a plate from Virgil, who didn’t pause in his conversation with Brains, pointedly ignoring their elder brother as Gordon and Kayo piled in on him.

It was a family meal, almost exactly as he had longed for, right down to the empty seat next to him that John took on birthdays and holidays.

It wasn’t anyone’s birthday now, but the empty seat stung all the same.

“Still no John?” he asked quietly, the now-familiar guilt thrashing inside him again.

Brains’ smile dropped for a moment and he shook his head.

“I’ll take him something later,” he said.

“Be patient, dear,” said Grandma. “He just needs some space.”

Alan grimaced.

Space was all his brother ever wanted. Alan knew what it meant for John to need space, and it had never meant shutting him out before.

Not that Alan could blame him, he thought as he poked his potatoes glumly. He’d tried to imagine how it would feel to have everyone openly celebrating your departure. More than that, it had been his family, his own brothers.

The thought made Alan break out in a cold sweat. And while Scott, Virgil and Gordon might be forgiven, having spent so little time with John over the past few months, he himself was a different matter.

He’d whooped.

“Alan?” said Virgil, and Alan raised his head to find his brother watching him with a worried look in his eye. “It’s not your fault.”

His stomach dropped away and the smell of food caught in Alan’s throat as he held back a sudden gag.

He stood, his chair scraping on the floor.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, and he stumbled out of the suddenly silent room, knowing that he’d just ensured he’d be the starring feature in the conversation the second he was out of earshot.

It wasn’t right, this mockery of a dinner that was near identical to the meals he’d had a thousand times on the island. Not when John was here.

His communicator beeped and Alan pulled up the call automatically.

“You need to find John,” informed EOS. “He has revoked my access to his biometrics.”

Alan let out a hollow laugh. “So he doesn’t want to spend time with you either?”

“He is being irrational.”

“He’s upset.”

“He’s been upset for months.” Alan could almost hear the stamp in her voice. “I merely pointed out that it was inefficient to relearn everything when he could accept the cure and regain it in an instant.”

Alan winced.

“Yeah, EOS, that probably didn’t help.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “He keeps talking about how he wants to do more, and how he has to get the simulators right to prove he’s just as good, but he could if only he’d listen to me! He said we were partners – why won’t he let me help him?”

She paused and her lights dimmed. “Does he just not trust me anymore? Most people don’t, you know.”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” he said. “He just needs to prove it to himself, I think.”

“He has nothing to prove.” Her ring of lights flashed orange, fierce and protective as ever. “He’s already done it. It would be easy; he could be himself again instead of this… child. Why can’t he see that?”

“He is that kid, EOS. Besides, when has John ever taken the easy way out? What if he’d done that with you?”

EOS froze, her lights falling until there was only one remaining, blinking soft and red beneath her camera. Alan found himself once again wishing he could take back what he’d said. They rarely spoke of EOS’s beginnings with the family.

“I am aware of what he did for me,” she said in a small voice.

Alan swallowed tightly. “I know. It’s just that, what he did for you he now has to do for himself. And it’s really, really hard.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Alan. “But you and me can help him with it, right?”

“Not if he keeps hiding.”

“Well, then we’ll find him. Biometrics aren’t the only way to hunt someone down.”

***

It took the two of them nearly an hour to make any headway. John was smart, he knew how to cover his tracks, knew how not to be found.

EOS even swore when she realised the infrared tracking system had been rerouted to obscure any heat signatures, and Alan stifled a laugh thinking of John swearing in the exact same way on Thunderbird Five.

When they finally unravelled the mess of code John had created to hide himself away, Alan sat back in relief at knowing his brother was still here.

John was in the simulators.

Of course he was, thought Alan with a sigh. Two days locked in a room that wasn’t his, ignoring all attempts at conversation before making his escape. He’d hardly left the training facility since.

Alan had overheard Scott and Virgil arguing over the best way to handle the situation, usually after Scott had tried to ambush John for the umpteenth time. He’d been dragged away time and time again, having attempted everything from a ‘reasonable discussion’ to a full blown attempt to batter down a door.

Virgil defaulted to their grandma’s advice, as he so often did, insisting on giving John his space.

“Remember how he was after Dad – after Mom?”

Alan didn’t, but Virgil’s words had chilled him to the core, especially when he saw how Scott wilted in turn.

His brothers, his grandma, Kayo and Brains, they all wanted to sit back and wait for their John to come back to them.

But Alan knew his brother, this brother.

And he was done with waiting.

“Coming, EOS?”

She shook her array. “It’s enough to know where he is,” she said softly. “Now I can watch him, until he is ready to speak with me again.”

Alan nodded, then reached out and tugged open the door, stepping inside without another word.

He could tell when John sensed his presence by the way the ground fell beneath his feet, the momentary distraction enough to turn the flight into a death spiral.

John swore, with a ghost of EOS in his voice, glancing at him irritably before remembering he was meant to be ignoring Alan.

Alan sat down and picked up a headset as he felt for the familiar curve of the joystick in his hand.

“I don’t need your help.”

“It’s not help. It’s teamwork.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you.”

Alan shrugged.

“Fine. You going to fly or what?.”

It was his turn to ignore his brother as John glowered at him.

The sequence began. John’s hands moved instinctively to each position, his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the signs of instability ahead. Alan mimicked him as he made each minute adjustment, holding back a smile as John flipped the craft into a daredevil spin.

He never could resist showing off for his youngest brother.

“John, watch your intakes,” Alan murmured, his eyes flitting down to the dials.

He made no response.

Alan risked a glance at him, startled by the blind focus evident in John’s steely gaze.

“John, the intakes,” he said sharply, reaching across the sim to pull the nose up and allow more airflow.

A millisecond too late, as John’s own hand came crashing down on his own and fumbled.

It was all it took.

The sea water beneath them rushed upwards as the aircraft dropped, the swoop in Alan’s stomach as real as in any emergency, before the screens went dark and the holos surrounding them faded away.

John glared at him.

“Thanks a lot,” he spat. “I thought you were here to fly, not cause a crash.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “If one sentence is all it takes to trash your concentration, you’re not much of a pilot,” he retorted. “I told you, this takes teamwork. You’re wasting your time practising like this if you’re going to refuse to work with us at the other end.”

“They don’t want me to work with them anyway,” spat John. “Neither did you, last I checked.”

“I’m sorry it happened like that,” said Alan. “I won’t make excuses, there’s nothing to say. Just… John, I am sorry. And I miss hanging out with you.”

John didn’t look at him. Alan waited, biting his tongue in order to refrain from filling the uncomfortable silence. He held his breath, counting in threes, then sixes, then eights to fill in the passing seconds.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” John mumbled. “I woke up in this nightmare, home’s gone, Dad’s dead, and my own family doesn’t want me. They want some other guy, who looks like me and acts like me, but he’s not me.”

John shook his head. “He’s so far beyond anything I can ever do.”

He looked up at Alan, the hurt swimming in his eyes. “I just want to go home.”

Alan swallowed, a tight lump leaving his mouth dry.

“I can’t get you home,” he whispered. “But John, I want you. I love you. You’re my big brother, you can do anything.”

John blinked rapidly, lips trembling.

“I’m not your big brother anymore, Alan.”

He collapsed forward, and Alan instinctively reached out, refusing in this moment to pull away, no matter what his brothers might do in his place.

“We’re on the same team,” said Alan, his arms tight around John. “Don’t forget that. We are on your side. No matter what happens.”

[wheneverfeasible]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

So I’ve been tagged a few times but wanted to work on my WIPs some to give myself something more to work with. Let’s see what I can do now…

My words: STORM, MAIL, SELTZER

🔞MATURE CONTENT BELOW MDNI🔞

STORM - via @stervrucht

S

Steve gaped at these two absolutely…kooky children he had inadvertently kidnapped it seemed. Granted, they weren’t the weirdest thing he’d seen in the last handful of years, though seeing as how he was used to a science experiment with super powers who could invade your dreams and interdimensional monsters with flowers full of teeth for faces, he wondered if that was good or bad.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

T

The silence that lingered after his request felt charged, heavy, making Steve’s muscles tense in anticipation of pain, even though he knew that that always made it worse. Kas was not known for being mild mannered. Though Steve had obviously never met Kas before, he had heard the stories. Knew that Kas would be smiling one moment and by the next you were swallowing your own teeth. He earned his nickname.

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” chapter 2

O

“Oh,” the girl said, looking oddly dejected.

“Disappointing,” the boy sighed. He was wearing a striped shirt and black long shorts, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Would you consider changing your mind?”

“Pugsley is great at being tortured. I can offer some suggestions if you need,” the girl tacked on.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

R

Robin, the traitor, grinned as she waved to Steve as she climbed into Vickie’s childfree car. Rude. Though not as rude as Dustin dropping into the front seat of his own car and spilling the kettle corn he was trying to dump into his mouth at the same time. “Watch it, Henderson! I thought you were going with Eddie.”

Dustin rolled his eyes as he readjusted the fake parrot on his shoulder for his pirate costume. “Lucas took the front seat, and I’m not a backseat bitch.”

“Jesus, language, Henderson!” Steve snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

M

Munson had changed out of his blood splattered clothing, at least, though he wore more black slacks with a white wifebeater—Steve tried not to think of the significance of that terminology—with pale feet sticking out. Steve did his best not to stare, though his eyes tracked over the various pieces of ink and scarring now on display over Munson’s bare arms and peeking out from under his shirt, though not least of all his bare feet.

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” chapter 2

MAIL - via @steviewashere

M

“My, my!” Munson softly exclaimed, his voice rising into something vaguely feminine with a Southern twang, bringing a hand up to rest the tips of his fingers over his chest. “The Steve Harrington knows my name.” Munson fluttered his lashes, knocking into Steve’s shoulder as he leaned in towards him. “Why, I think I’ve caught the vapors!”

untitled spooktober fic (whoops never did finish this on time)

A

“Alpha!” Steve all but shrieked, both hands now curling in Eddie’s hair and this time he did pull Eddie closer, thighs trembling as they’re squeezed against Eddie’s ears keeping him boxed in. Eddie was more than happy to oblige.

“Ruin Me”

I

“I am…merely surprised at seeing you, Daddy,” he replied, the part of him that adapted to survive wondering what sort of role Munson wanted him to play. The experienced whore, was it? Or did he like the skittishness? Should Steve sit on the bed, give him those come-hither eyes with smirking lips and teasing legs? Should he fumble and stutter and bashfully look at Munson through his lashes?

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” chapter 2

L

Looking up through his lashes, Steve tried his best to hide how nervous he was, especially when Munson just stared at him with that blank expression of his. Should he have waited for a more blatant command to suck the guy’s dick?

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” chapter 2

SELTZER - @scoops-aboy86

S

Steve moaned into the sloppy kiss, bent nearly in half with his leg still over Eddie’s shoulder, panting against Eddie’s mouth and shuddering at the taste of himself. Teeth clacked together as Eddie couldn’t quite stop smiling, smearing Steve’s own juices over the other man’s face.

“Ruin Me”

E

Eddie wasn’t stupid. He knew what pirates got up to, knew what sort of cruelty they could exact on their prisoners, and yet the people in town called him a freak. He’d scoff if he were able to, but as it was, all he could do was hesitate for a brief moment before he reluctantly shuffled towards the bars of his cell and the man holding his life in his hands.

“Stranger Tides: The Pirate King and the Freak” chapter 2

L

“Look at you, darling,” he whispered, nuzzling into the red indent of his teeth. “So fucking pretty. I’m going to fucking ruin you so no alpha can ever make you feel as good as I can. I’m going to make you insatiable for me and me alone.”

“Ruin Me”

T

Two other Wheeler cousins slid in the back seat soon after, younger twins who crammed into the space of one seat and dressed like…Victorian mice? One of whom was holding a magnifying glass and using it to look up the other’s nose. Steve just sighed and made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

Z

Zuri dodged the small clip Steve threw at her and stuck her tongue out at him, though she cast a small smile to Mona when the other woman picked up the clip to clasp to one of Zuri’s space buns that she had her tight coils styled into still. Mona returned the smile with one of her own, her fingers lingering slightly before dropping to her side.

“Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts” chapter 2

E

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, his princess tiara nearly falling off his head if it weren’t for the thick curls keeping it from falling all the way off. Nancy rolled her eyes fondly and reached out to fix it, making certain her own matching prince crown was likewise settled on her head.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

R

“Right. Okay, how about I just take you two home, hm? And hopefully your parents don’t call the cops on me,” he added in a slight mutter. If he got arrested for kidnapping, the others would never let him live it down.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kidnap us?” the boy, Pugsley, apparently, asked with a small wheedle to his tone.

untitled Stranger Things x The Addams Family crossover

~

Okay I think I tagged everyone correctly. I had to change a side character’s name to fit the Z, but it’s fine because it was a name I had been toying with naming the character anyways, so this was just the universe telling me she was always meant to be Zuri 😩

I’m actually almost done with Ruin Me finally….I think. Should be. The smut is being finished being written as we speak (well technically I had to take a break to do this but hey, the knot is popped okay) so I’m hoping to have that finished and posted soon, depending on how much Eddie and Steve want to talk afterwards lmao.

These games really do encourage me to write more on my WIPs and you can tell which ones I’ve been focusing on haha. It’s been fun!

Anyways, I’m not tagging anyone except my hostage hotties to make them read these lolololol. If you see this and want to do a word, your word can be…

GOBLINS

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[pricescancerstickk]

Graves x Insecure Ballerina! Reader

Being curvier than most girls in your ballet class was a blessing but curse to you at the same time. Getting catcalled by the men. Shamed by the women. In ballet, all of the girls considered ‘beauty’ to be stick skinny and not having sort of normal things like stomach rolls. They were very negative. During your class you were trying to learn the piroutte. Yet you hadn’t known how long you spent trying to do it, Getting close yet messing up right before the finish. Even falling onto your side, causing tiny bruises to form onto your skin. Almost! You shouted internally. -wack. You fell onto the floor harshly. Followed by taunting laughter, one of the mean girls in your class had pushed you down, Looking down at you with disgust. “Whoops. Looks like Porky messed up AGAIN!”. Porky? Was she calling you a pig. Your heart panged with hurt. They made fun of you for being slightly chubby. That was a low blow. Something nobody should do. As they say, Never ask a woman about her weight.

That day, Bawling your eyes out at night in your room, Incoherently muttering things as you took off your shoes off your sore feet, crying and upset how mean they were. Why did they have to bully you? What did you ever do at all? But you heard a knock on the door. “Darlin’? Dinners ready, You in there?” Graves voice sounded behind the door. His eyes filled with concern but you couldn’t see that. You didn’t reply. Shakily wiping away your tears to conceal how you’d been crying, Even jokes about your Weight made you insecure and stopped eating. “Darlin?” Graves asked again. more sternly this time, Not wanting to anger the Texan further, You shakily replied back “Y-yeah Phil. I’m in here” You couldn’t help but your voice cracked. Scared he’d notice. It seemed to you he didn’t but unfortunately. He did.

He opened the door gently peeking inside, heart sinking into his stomach seeing you curled up in a ball. Crying in the corner. He couldn’t handle seeing you cry, but he got angry again. You were too kind for your own good. He walked over fast to your bed and rolled you onto your back. Pulling your tutu up and noticing the bruises over your legs made him livid. When you tried to move away he held you in place. Sitting on top of you. Choking back a sob. “Who did this?” He growled into your ear, His eyes weren’t so soft anymore. They were dull. Lifeless. “You know I can tell you haven’t been eating, Baby” He whispered against your neck. His lips moving to your ear, he slid his hands under your clothes. Shocked when he felt your ribs through your skin. Making you shudder and gasp. Painfully whimpering. “I..I fell” you tried to lie about the bruises. But it was a half truth. You did fall over a few times but they didn’t cause bruises

“Bullshit” Graves snarled. Touching his nose to yours. He was trying so hard to not just get up and find those girls who bullied you like that. He looked down at you, Softer now “Your body? It’s fucking sexy” He grabbed your thigh tightly. “And I want all of it. Fucking. All. Of. If” he whispered. He worshipped your body. He didn’t give one shit if you were slightly chubbier. He liked it that way anyways. He pressed his lips to your cheek. Accidentally tasting your tear though. “Promise me you will eat?” He whispered. Hand gently tiling your chin up. You nodded eagerly. Gently he sat you on his lap. Wrapping his arms around you before you got comfortable enough. Babbling to him about your day as he gently stroked your cheek.

[fanboyzuko]

alright mai and azula are winning :3 enjoy a snippet of today's work

On a rare day they got to hang out with Azula in the palace, Mai pulled out a package with a deep sigh. Well versed in Mai’s sighs as Ty Lee was, she immediately turned her attention away from painting Azula’s nails. While it sounded like the typical annoyed sigh, it had a slight forced element to it which meant Mai was trying to cover up a positive emotion. Azula started to protest to Ty Lee’s inattention, then realized where her focus lay and also turned to Mai with an inquisitive raised eyebrow.

“I recently received a letter,” Mai said in perfect monotone. “And an accompanying package I chose to wait to open with you all, since there are supposedly presents for all of us.”

Ty Lee quickly cleaned up her nail polish set up, promising to finish Azula’s nails as soon as they opened their presents. Thankfully, Azula didn’t seem too miffed about the interruption and hardly acknowledged Ty Lee as she gracefully rolled off her bed and approached Mai with a huff.

“Well, what is the point of leaving us in suspense? Who is it from? Your uncle? I can’t imagine why he would-” She paused as Mai shook her head with a hint of a smile.

A smile?! 

Ty Lee leaped off the bed and cartwheeled to join them at Azula’s couch where Mai had been lounging by herself. The package wasn’t well-wrapped. Or, it was extremely well-wrapped which made it look lumpy and stupid. Mai’s uncle wouldn’t send something like that, let alone for Mai’s friends too and make Mai smile. There was only one explanation.

“Is it from Zuko?!” Ty Lee exclaimed, flipping over the table between her and the couch to sit next to Mai. “Oh it has to be! That’s crazy! Why is he suddenly writing now? How long has it been? A year?”

“Hardly,” Azula scoffed, crossing her arms as she glared at the package as if she could set it alight with her glare alone. “It’ll be a year next month.”

Mai shared a look with Ty Lee which helped stifle Ty Lee’s giggle. It wouldn’t end well if they brought attention to how much Azula obviously missed her brother if she knew how long he’d been gone to the day. Before Azula could catch them having a silent conversation, Mai held a scroll out to Azula.

“He also wrote to you. I think he actually used his brain and knew it’d have a better chance of reaching you if it came through me.”

As Azula took the scroll with wide eyes, Ty Lee planted her hands on the couch to lean into Mai’s space. “I have one too, right?!”

“No, just the pres-”

The fwoosh of flames and sudden heat across from them cut Mai off. They turned to Azula, Mai’s expression unchanging while Ty Lee’s jaw dropped. Ashes fell from Azula’s fingertips as she laughed and blew the debris away.

“I don’t care what a banished loser has to say to me.”

“B-but I wanted to know!” Ty Lee whined, staring at the floating ashes in dismay. She was so curious as to what Zuko had been up to and why he decided to suddenly send them all presents! Even if he hadn’t written her a letter, he’d still sent her a present!

Mai sighed as she pulled another scroll from her sleeves and held it out to Ty Lee. “I had a feeling this would happen and brought mine as well. You may read it.”

There was a flicker of interest and regret in Azula’s eyes, which anyone else would have missed. But Ty Lee was always on the lookout for the minute displays of emotions in her two reserved friends. So Ty Lee whooped and flipped off the back of the couch, putting it and the table between her and Azula as she opened it and started reading aloud.

“Dear Mai, I would have written-”

“Read it to yourself,” Azula spat and yet her arms were still crossed and she showed no signs of pursuing Ty Lee. “I just said I don’t care what he has to say.”

“What he has to say to you!” Ty Lee fluttered her eyelashes, putting on the air of perfect, fake innocence. “But aren’t you curious about what he has to say to Mai?”

Mai huffed in minimal protest, thankfully catching on to Ty Lee’s game and not taking offense. It was likely Azula knew exactly what Ty Lee was doing too, but latched on to the excuse with a smug snort. “Ah yes, I suppose I am intrigued if their puppy love has survived banishment.” She sat on the table and waved at Ty Lee. “Carry on then.”

The letter was shorter than it should have been. Almost a year since his banishment, and that was really all Zuko had to say? Despite its pitiful length, Ty Lee still felt oddly energized by Zuko’s words. He hadn’t written anything about how he was doing or feeling, but even his straightforward report of his recent activity suggested he was doing well. Zuko had to be doing well if he was so busy! He hadn’t been moping about and doing nothing, like Azula sometimes theorized. Obviously, he’d been working hard and even if he wasn’t close to finding the Avatar, he was accomplishing things! Posing as an Earth Kingdom scholar, living with sandbenders, finding a spirit library? It all sounded so fanciful and exciting!

“Well, what are these presents that supposedly made him think of us?” Azula demanded as soon as Ty Lee finished reading. 

Mai pulled the package into her lap and started the arduous task of unwrapping it. Zuko really took no chances of his glassware presents breaking while in transit. Finally, the box was open and three items were unearthed from the layers and layers of padding. There were no labels or cards, but it was quite obvious who each present was supposed to go to. 

“So pink,” Mai said in disgust, holding the necklace up to Ty Lee.

It was indeed so pink. The pink glass was spiraled in such a way it was opaque, but there was a hint of translucence only glass could achieve. It was beautiful. It was… Pinker than the aura holding it. Ty Lee stared at her hands and felt tears prick her eyes. 

A few months ago, Master Intira passed away in her old age. She’d known her time was coming to an end. She’d prepared everyone for her departure to the spirit world, and encouraged her school to carry her memory and legacy with joy. Ty Lee of course did as her master and idol instructed, but without Master Intira’s unwavering pink, there was no one else to compare her aura with.

Ty Lee thought she’d been doing a good job of keeping herself pink and free.

But compared to the cheerful spiraling glass pendant in her hands, Ty Lee’s pink was dull and lifeless.

“Well, I’ll give Zuzu this, he is shockingly competent at selecting suitable presents,” Azula drawled, pulling Ty Lee out of her panicked thoughts.

In her hands was a beautiful hairpin in the shape of red and orange flames. But the tip of the hairpin came into too much of a point to be anything other than a glass blade. Mai also had a glass weapon, some sort of short dagger that she held in her fist. The blade was a swirl of clear glass, black, and dark red. It was amusing how Zuko got them both a pretty weapon while he got Ty Lee a simple necklace, but Azula wasn’t wrong. Their presents did suit them.

“However, it would be quite unsightly for the nation’s princess to be seen wearing some trinketry from sandbenders,” Azula scoffed and loosened her hold on the hairpin. It balanced on her fingertip, about to fall.

It never crashed to the ground. Maybe the impact wouldn’t have shattered it. If it was supposed to be a weapon, surely it could survive more than hitting the ground from a few feet. But Ty Lee hadn’t been thinking that far ahead as she dived across the room to catch Azula’s present. There had been no time to think other than a sudden fear for her friend’s happiness. Azula would regret it if she broke Zuko’s present, Ty Lee knew it. 

Azula, of course, mocked Ty Lee for her mad dash to catch the hairpin, but didn’t protest when Ty Lee put it away in Azula’s vanity. They changed topics quickly after that, no matter how much Ty Lee wanted to speculate about Zuko’s travels. And it wasn’t long until Ty Lee and Mai were escorted out of the palace. Hopefully they would be allowed to visit again in a few weeks.

“So,” Ty Lee exclaimed as they started the short walk to Mai’s home. “Are you going to write Zuko back? You should ask him more about the sandbenders! They sound so interesting. Oh and please pass on my thanks for my present!”

A lump in her throat made Ty Lee pause as she looked down at the swirling pink now hanging from her neck. 

“It’s something I didn’t even know I needed.”

[aaakikoo]

I just read your low effort scenarios with Bakugo and I had a silly idea pop in my head. With the Ramen what if reader asked for a taste and Bakugo said sure and was going to give you a bite instead of taking the food reader kissed Bakugo and after said something corny/cute along the lines of tastes even better then I thought. Or the role could be reversed where reader is eating the ramen and Bakugo asked for a taste. It’s just a silly little idea that I wanted to share because you inspired it!

More low effort scenarios with Bakugou bc that’s what I do best

an -> as usual ty for request, I lovr low effort fics bc I don’t need to do sm, if u somehow enjoy this, then cool. 🫶🏼 this is probably isn’t what you asked for but whatever this is the best I could do rn.

another an -> x f!reader.

another another an -> I have written more of these I’ll list em below.

here, here and here.

warnings -> probably just cursing

———

you came home after a long day at work and wanted nothing more but to relax.

your boyfriend had night shift which meant he would be home by time you arrive.

as you headed inside the house, you immediately dropped your bag on the floor and kicked off your shoes. “Welcome back” you heard from the kitchen and you smiled a little to yourself.

“Hey.” You greeted the man as you headed upstairs and changed from your clothes to comfy sweats and T-shirt. You took your makeup off and headed downstairs.

You saw your boyfriend taking a seat on the kitchen island. You walked over to him and gave him a hug.

“Missed you.” You said and he hugged you back, “missed you too, how’s work?” He asked fully taking a seat. “Same old shit.” You said as you noticed what he was eating.

“You made noodles?” You asked and they smelled so good. “Yes.” He said as he began slurping.

“Did you make some for me?”

“I didn’t know you were coming by now.” He said but that was a lie.

“Katsuki you know I finish by 3”

“Sorry guess I forgot.” He said taking another bite.

You grew more annoyed with him at this point. “Fine then I’ll make myself something.” You opened the fridge and you lost your motivation the second you did as you found ingredients instead of frozen food which meant you had fo actually put in the effort.

“Fine I’ll be back I’ll head to the store.” You said putting on sandals and taking your bike. The store was only a couple of blocks away.

You came back with a bag full of good stuff. Chips, dumplings and noodles. When you walked into the kitchen you noticed that Katsuki wasn’t there anymore.

You began making soup to have with the dumplings as well as spicy noodles.

As you finished you poured some soup onto your bowl with a couple of dumplings and noodles on the side.

As You sat the food on the island, you heard footsteps from upstairs. As took a seat and began eating your boyfriend walked over to you.

“Smells so good.” He said and you continued munching. “Are those my favorite spicy noodles?” He asked.

“I think so.”

“Can I have a taste?” He asked and you didn’t even bother looking at him, “no.” You simply said as you took a long slurp.

“Hah? Did you at least get another pack of those noodles?”

“Nope, I only got for myself.”

He took a seat in front of you. “Why? You know I like those noodles.” He said all annoyed.

You twirled your chopsticks around the noodles as you said, “whoops, guess I forgot.” Now he knew that you were teasing him.

“Fuck you. Idiot.” He said starting to get up but before he could you put the chopsticks in front of his lips, offering him a taste.

He opened his lips as you pushed the chopsticks inside his mouth.

“It’s good.”

“I know it is.”

He was about to leave before you said.

“There is more soup and dumplings in the pot.”

[grey-gazania]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗 — @emyn-arnens

My dear @emyn-arnens, you sent this to me weeks ago, and I saw it and then unfortunately forgot to answer it, because Real Life has been kicking my ass, so I want both to thank you for the ask and to apologize for how long this took me.

My 5 Favorite Fics (Which Are Not Necessarily My 5 Best Fics)

Loyalty (yes I know this is actually a series, not a fic, hush)

In some ways this series is the bane of my existence, and in other ways it's one of my favorite things I've ever started written. I began planning it in 2011, began posting it in 2015, and, uh, still haven't finished it, whoops, because I think I need to drastically restructure the whole thing before I can proceed. But I've had a lot of fun creating my conlang, and Tókhesh/Tavoreth is one of my favorite OCs I've ever come up with for any fandom, not just Tolkien. I also really wanted to give the Easterlings the chance to be well-developed people in a well-developed society, instead of just being a glorified plot device, and I like to think that I've succeeded.

Unconscious Arithmetic

This story is by now quite old, written in 2011, but it was both my first foray into writing Caranthir and my first attempt at writing in 1st person -- a style I've since found works particularly well for Caranthir, or at least for my version of him. It was also my second story featuring Parmacundë, though she had yet to earn that epessë at the time this story is set, and was the beginning of my plan to work her into the broader story of The Silmarillion. I think I conveyed a particularly vivid picture of how I imagine adolescent Caranthir and what kind of person he might risk befriending.

The Flight of Birds

I hold great affections for the Kidnap Family, as you have probably noticed, but damn, those poor twins must have been pretty messed up by the time they were returned to their parents' people. Transitions are hard even when you haven't began kidnapped and raised by the people who tried to murder your mother, and I thought it would be interesting to explore the turmoil the twins must have felt through Elrond's eyes. I feel like Elros often ends up getting treated as the conflicted twin, while Elrond is the one who is wise and serene, but I think Elrond should get the chance to be an angry adolescent full of turmoil, too.

Root and All

This story is a favorite less because of anything I've done with the characters and more because writing it was a trip down memory lane. I spent large swaths of my summers as a child at a camp in the NJ Highlands, where we spent a lot of time hiking in the woods and swamps and learning about the nature that surrounded us. My fondness for those hikes and that part of NJ was really the driving force behind this story. I first encountered and learned about both ghost pipe and water hemlock at summer camp, which are the two plants that anchor this story.

Darkness and Light

Bet you guys were starting to think we'd get through this list without any representatives from my Woman King AU, but fat chance! The Woman King AU is my life's work, and this is my favorite installment of it. It's short, but I think I did a very good job of portraying Ereiniel's grief and pain following Fingon's death. Fingon and the shadows he cast after his death were a massive influence on the woman Ereiniel grew into, the Gil-galad she became. In some ways the Woman King AU is just as much about Fingon and his wife as it is about Ereiniel, because their choices, successes, and failures echo down to their daughter and shape the woman she grows into.

[thegettingbyp2]

Hi. I loved the Mike Warren x reader one. Very cute.

I have another request: this time, reader is part of the les miserables cast (as eponine). One friday night after a long date of filming, reader and Aaron are in a party with the rest of the cast. There's an obvious attraction between then but they deny. So, at that party, the reader sings a fun sonand then Aaron wants to sing a duet with the reader. They sing and afterwards, they sneak out to make-out but they're caught.

Sorry for being long but you can decide the end. Fluff and a bit smut.

Thank you.

We Probably Shouldn't

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After a long week of filming, you all deserved to blow off some steam when you finished on Friday evening so when Eddie suggested that everyone go to the local karaoke bar and have a couple of drinks, it wasn’t surprising when everyone agreed.

You were well on your way to being drunk when you took the microphone and started singing a slightly off-key version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and you didn’t notice Aaron watching from his seat, an amused smile on his face. You and Aaron had been a bit flirty with each other on set from day one and adding alcohol to the mix, you weren’t sure that either of you were going to be strong enough to not take it any further.

When the song finished, you made to put the microphone back down only to be stopped when Aaron walked up to you, wrapping his hand around yours to keep the microphone in your grip before picking up one for himself.

‘How about we give it a go together,’ he said, grinning at you.

‘We probably shouldn’t,’ you teased, laughing as you spoke, ‘Can’t imagine we’d sound any good right now.’

‘Well, why don’t we see?’ he replied, keeping his eyes on you.

‘Alright,’ you said, a smile forming on your face as you heard the whoops and cheers from your cast mates behind you both.

Aaron surprised you and chose an early Elvis song, Money Honey, claiming that it was because it was a song that didn’t require too much actual singing as opposed to him knowing that you were a huge Elvis fan and the moment the music started, Aaron threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, sharing your microphone instead of using his own.

Whilst you were singing, you were hyper-aware of both Aaron’s arm on you and all the eyes of your cast mates on you both and your face flushed bright red and suddenly you were grateful that you could blame it on the alcohol. When the song finished and everyone burst into a round of applause you both gave overdramatic bows before putting the microphones back down and stepping away from the stage.

You headed over to the bar to order another drink, only realising that Aaron had followed when his hand came out to tap his card against the card reader to pay for your drink. ‘What was that for?’ you asked, turning around to face him.

‘What? I can’t buy my friend a drink anymore?’ he asked, leaning on one arm on the bar, his body turned to face you.

‘As long as you don’t expect anything from it,’ you said, a smile forming on your lips as you put the straw between your lips.

Aaron chuckled at your reply, leaning forward until you could feel his breath on your cheek as he whispered into your ear. ‘I’d never expect anything from you,’ he said before leaning back, grinning at you. ‘I think we sounded great up there by the way.’

‘We were half-drunk, singing a song that didn’t require too much tune,’ you replied dryly, failing to keep the laughter out of your voice when you saw the look of mock-disappointment on Aaron’s face.

‘You wound me,’ he said overdramatically, putting his hand to his chest and leaning his body closer to you.

When you woke up in the morning, you were going to blame it on the fact that you were drunk but, with his face inches away from yours, you couldn’t stop your hands from coming out to grip at his shirt, closing the last couple of inches to push your lips against his. Aaron responded immediately, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, one of his hands moving to the back of your head to keep your lips connected. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, diving into your mouth the moment your lips parted.

‘Bathroom?’ you whispered against his lips, grinning when you felt his lips twist into a smile against yours.

‘Lead the way.’

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, you intertwined your fingers with Aaron, pulling him in the direction of the bathroom, turning around only to bump into Aaron’s chest as his arms came out to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him and crashing his lips back onto yours. He moved his hands down over your ass to your thighs, hooking his hands under your thighs and encouraging you to jump. As soon as your legs were wrapped around his waist, he carried you over to a counter, setting you down and moving his lips down to your neck, making sure to leave hickeys.

‘Aaron,’ you gasped, twisting your fingers in his hair as his teeth scraped against a sensitive patch of skin and you felt Aaron grin against your neck, running his hands up the inside of your thighs until his fingers brushed against the crotch of your panties.

‘How about we give it a go?’ he said, repeating his earlier question, hooking his finger in your panties and pulling them to the side, running his finger down your pussy.

‘Give it a go?’ you asked, pulling back from the kiss and raising an eyebrow at him.

‘You know, give us a go,’ he replied, chasing your lips with his and connecting them again.

‘Well, we probably shouldn’t,’ you teased, biting down on his bottom lip lightly.

‘Since when has that stopped anyone,’ he murmured against your lips as he slowly slid a finger into you. Your eyes fluttered shut and a whimper escaped your lips, muffled by his lips, your hips automatically moving, trying to push him deeper into you. Aaron deepened the kiss as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, muffling your moans further.

‘Need you,’ you whined, your hands moving down his body to cup his cock through his trousers, a throaty groan leaving his lips and his head falling onto your shoulder.

Just as you slipped your hand underneath the waistband of his boxers and wrapped your fingers lightly around his cock as the door swung open as one of your castmates walked into the bathroom. You fought the whine as Aaron quickly pulled his finger out of you, staying inbetween your legs and you slipped your hand back out of his boxers.

‘Sorry! Don’t mind me!’ your castmate exclaimed, laughing as she turned back around and left the room, leaving you and Aaron alone once again. You both looked at each other and burst into laughter after a few seconds.

‘Well, that kind of ruined the mood,’ you joked, unhooking your legs from around him and jumping down from the counter, adjusting your dress.

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said, coming up and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, kissing your neck lightly, ‘I think we just need to go somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.’

‘Oh yeah? Like where?’

‘My hotel room.’

You turned around to face him, grinning before you reached up to kiss him again. ‘Why didn’t you suggest that earlier?’

[shojislady]

2. SO SCANDALOUS

"-ess.. princess. wake up, we need to get ready. kacchans making pancakes right now."

grumbling, she turns over to look at her clock. it's 10:15am, izuku let her sleep in a bit. today, the class was going out to the mall then the arcade to have class bonding time. with everything that's gone on, from the USJ incident and the tension from the sports festival, to the fight with stain (where endeavor unfairly took credit, causing the girl to have a "slight" hatred for him), and even the final exams, having to go against All Might with Bakugo and Midoriya, it was just a lot to handle. they're just kids, and kids need breaks.

walking into the bathroom, the girl began her daily morning routine.

"damn.. i look ROUGH..!" she said as she looked in the mirror. her bonnet looked as if it was trying to run away, her tank top was all twisted up, right boob was up in russia while the left one stayed home in america. she had eye boogers all around and her angel bite piercings were no where to be found.

she slept good.

"you know what... let me just wash my face right now and i'll do everything else after i eat."

her face care routine consists of ; black african soap, witch hazel, hydration drops, and a bit of coco butter.

finishing up and putting away her stray boobs, she found one of bakugos stolen hoodies and made her way downstairs.

(i would just like to add that she sleeps in boxers so yk that ass lookin fat 😋)

"good morning guys!" she greeted everyone, with a slight smile and wave. almost everyone was up, with the exception of a few people.

"hii y/n!"

"mornin bestie!!"

"Good Morning, Y/n! Glad to see you awake!"

and so on and so forth

"mornin angel.. im making your pancakes right now, but there's bacon on the tiny burner and i made u a tiny omelette. those burner thingies really come in handy, you know?"

"its a heating tray, katsu. and yes, that's why i bought them." she bought them for holidays like christmas and american thanksgiving, but since there's 21 kids living in one dorm, it's used more than expected.

"is that my fucking hood?? i've been looking for that for weeks!" bakugo exclaimed, turning around to give the girl a plate so that she could fix her food. "when the hell did you even- whatever.. as long as i get it back."

(Spoiler Alert, he doesn't)

"erm.. anyways..! so guys, what time are we supposed to be leaving??" asked y/n, going to take a seat next to shoji.

"Well, we're trying to leave for the mall around 12:45 since it isn't far, then leave the mall no later than 4:30-5." yaomomo began to explain. "I was able to rent the arcade from 6:15 to 10:30, food and drinks included, along with lazer tag , and we get the option of going in the bounce area, so when we get there just let me know."

"damn yaomomo... i knew you was stacked but DAMN!!"

"ong, bro's LOADED.."

"i'm calling you if i need to bailed out of jail."

"honestly guys it's not much, i just want us to have fun and relax as a class while being safe!" yaomomo said with a small smile on her face. she was literally loaded, like pockets so deep they could fit 3 gallons of milk each, pockets so swole they need an ice pack, pockets so fat they need they own TLC show type rich. but even so, she didn't like to flaunt her wealth. she'd rather use her money to pay for gifts and events for her friends, rather than to flex some diamond earrings or a gold necklace. She's still a teen girl though, so she still loves to go shopping. The girl is really just happy that she's found friends that actually love her for her, and not for her money.

"you're so cute yaomomo! i love you!"

"well thank you y-"

"if anyone, i mean ANYONE fucks with you, call me. these hands are rated E for Everyone. my fists are activists. i dont care if they're old, young, tall, short, fine, ugly, gay, straight. I believe in equality, and with equality comes equally distributed ass whoopings jus-"

"OK, n/n! i think momo gets how much you love her! since you're done eating can u help me?" midoriya interrupted the girls small rant.

"you gotta face the consequences of last night huh? you should've listened to me, but yeah i'll help!"

"you dont have to rub salt on the wound!" he whined. "i'll get stuff and meet in your room again?"

"sounds like a plan, izuku!" she replied, getting up to grab her plate and bring to the kitchen.

"OoOh y/n~" jirou began to tease. "last night? your room AGAIN? what scandalous activities have you been up to?"

"chill kyo, its not like that! he messed up his hair on his own and we always hang in my room bc its more.. welcoming.. then his."

"i know, y/n! im jus messin' with ya."

with her plate in hand, y/n walked into the kitchen where bakugo resided. he was cleaning and putting away the dirty plates before he started to soak the pans.

"so, the nerd fell asleep in your room again huh?" he asked, washing a plate.

"yeah, he started to doze off a little while after you left, so he slept with me."

"i dont know why you guys dont just ask eachother out yet. you two are basically in love with eachother."

"katsuki, you know how i feel, and you know how zuku is. im pretty sure if he would act the same way with the rest of the class as he acts with us if he just trusted them more." she informed, getting ready to wash her plate before bakugo snatched it.

"don't even try it." ever since they could crawl, they've never let the girl lift a finger. hungry? chef katsuki at your service! scraped your knee? Dr.deku to the rescue! and yes, they know that she's the perfectly capable and well off to do these things on her own, but why should she when she has two men to do it for her?

"anyways. we've all known eachother since literally birth. i see things, i observe things. you two are literally inseparable. im pretty sure y'all first words were eachothers names. you know how you act around him, you see with your own two (or four) eyes the way he acts with you, and im pretty sure he peeps it too. just ask eachother out already and stop being pussies for fucks sake!"

"oh my gosh?? shut the fuck up?? you're so damn loud??" she said, slapping him in the back of his neck.

"aye. try me again and we gotta tussle. i'm not deku. i'll will beat the black off you. i strike so much fear into your melanin pigmentation that it will come to me."

"whatever katsuki, u can run me my ones later, i gotta go help zuku now."

"ight then angel, u better be ready. see ya later."

with that, she finally left the kitchen and headed towards her dorm to meet izuku.

.*•

"finally.." the boy sighed. it's now 11:45 am, and they (she) just finished detangling, moisturizing, and somewhat styling his hair. at this point, her fingers and wrists were tired, her back was aching, her feet were sore, and she had the very violent urge to go back to her black roots and pop this nigga with the comb.

"I know damn well YOU not heavy breathing like you did some work. all yo lazy ass did was sit there and watch Netflix. YOU COULDN"T EVEN HOLD THE DAMN SPRAY..."

"I'm sorry, ma. thank you so much, I should've listened to you last night. now do you already have clothes ready? or do you need to pick something out?" he asked, pulling her into a hug and rubbing her back.

".. you better be so lucky i love you. but yes, i need to pick. have u chosen?"

" yup, right before I came to wake you up. so i'll help you if you want?"

"yes please"

taglist: @ast4rg1rl

I FINALLY DID IT YALL..

and i already started the next chapter🙏🏾

well i split this chapter up into 2 to make things easier on me and y'all!!

so if its not out by next week then i'll post something embarrassing 🙏🏾

BUT ILL BE IN DUBAI FOR A WHILE SO JULY 13th IS MY DEADLINE

anywho

when i show outfits and stuff they're just there for ppl like me who can't visualize that well <3

WELL

UNTILL NEXT TIMEE