#took a not very good nap. ugh.

[intertexts]

gmmmmm

[silverselfshippingchaos]

so there's this character. i always thought he looked kinda stupid and i never found him attractive. but, uh....

... has he always been this handsome?!

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

the art & science of parenting 101 ─ p. js

↳ summary ── the art & science of parenting 101 (PSY1009): in this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child'. late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal.   what you didn't expect to be part of the deal? getting paired with jay park—the last person you'd trust to raise, well, anything. you’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  warning: sleep deprivation is guaranteed. and maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. good luck! 

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

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

↳ ✎ᝰ. 20.5k [ONCE AGAIN -- this was not intentional..if you know me i just have too much fun writing sometimes & get too attached to the characters...]

↳ contains ── mentions of parenting & parental neglect (sorta, only a smidge of like five words), crack! bc if you know me i self indulge in crack whoops, jay & y/n being opposites & school rivals, jay's annoying smirk like a million times, reader & jay are psych majors, jay's also a photographer, cheesy ass kisses, jay & reader are awkward! so awkward! there’s SO much tension . but in a cute awkward crush way

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg it’s finally done. tell me why it took me so long to finish, i promise i didn’t mean to but life’s been busier lately :’) aNyways! ugh i luv writing e2l!jay for some reason,,,he fits the trope so well in my eyes heh but i hope you all like him & the characters as much as i enjoyed writing them !!! as busy as i am i love indulging in my crack x enha writes :P hope u enjoy & tell me what you think <333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Welcome to PSY1009, The Art & Science of Parenting 101! Throughout the next 12 weeks, we’re going to dive deep into the wondrous world of parenting—dirty diapers and all. To kick off our course, we’re starting with our campus-famous project: raising your very own robot baby for the first half of the semester (with the help of your assigned partner, of course). Before our first class, we ask that you complete this pre-project questionnaire on your current views and opinions about parenting. No pressure—there are no right or wrong answers (maybe only judgements from your future robot offspring)!

Q1 – The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What theories and methods do you believe are important to parenting? 

Y/N's Submission [8:25AM, September 18th]:

"I strongly believe that effective parenting revolves around a strict routine, which can be reinforced through the principles of operant conditioning, as developed by B.F. Skinner. Proper feeding schedules, consistent nap times, and regular development check-ins are essential—I think a structured timetable would ensure a baby's needs are met efficiently and consistently. With a set schedule and a focus on developmental milestones, I believe we can maximize a child's growth potential, even if it's just a robot baby.”

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

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

"I expect to confirm that a well-organized system is the key to successful parenting. I want to test my hypothesis that if you follow a set structure, yes, even with a robot baby, things will run smoothly. I am hoping that this experience runs smoothly with no unnecessary surprises.” 

✭・.・✫

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

It's 8:30AM.  

You're the only one in the room.  

Yeah, you're a little early. So what? One can never be too prepared. You've waited for this course forever, and you're determined to not only ace it (like you do with every class) but to dominate. So yes, coming early is characteristic of you, as you want to ensure you get the best seat in the classroom: center of the second row—center to get the best view of the professor's podium, and second row to be close enough to show you're engaged, but not close enough that it screams, Look at me, I'm a tryhard!  

It's clear you've come prepared. Plus, this class isn't just any ordinary elective—it's the elective to take. Only the top students majoring in psychology get in, available only through direct invite by the professor. If you were invited to PSY1009, it meant you were the crème de la crème of psychology students. The best of the best. The elite. The— 

Your train of thought is derailed when an all-too-familiar figure strolls into the room with that signature smirk. Backpack slung lazily over one (1) shoulder (as if two straps are too much effort), hair clearly still bedhead status, wearing whatever clothes he fished off The Chair (you know, the one—where all questionable, semi-clean laundry lives). 

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

Front row.  

Try-hard. 

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here," Jay Park spins around, a knowing look plastered on his face, eyes gleaming. "I missed seeing that frown of yours all summer." 

"What are you doing here, Jay?" You roll your eyes and scoff at his comment. "Don't tell me you got into this class. It's for serious students."  

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

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

Jay shrugs, unfazed. "What can I say? Professor Kim doesn't just look at deadlines, she looks at talent. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?"  

You mumble something under your breath about ‘talent for procrastination’ but before he can fire back, Professor Kim walks into the room, cuing the silence of all the students who've filled up the class.  

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

Jay turns his head back towards the front of the room, as you instantly straighten up, flashing your favorite professor a smile. This is officially the fifth course you've taken with Professor Kim. It's no secret you’re one of her biggest fans—the countless early mornings you've spent waiting at your computer, finger hovering over the ‘enroll’ button the second registration opens so you can be one of the first students to sign up for her classes have proven that. Challenging but rewarding, her classes are always worth the effort.

And yet, for reasons beyond your comprehension, Jay Park—Jay Freaking Park—somehow always ends up in the same classes. Every. Single. Time. It’s like a curse.  

A loud, messy, procrastinating curse…

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

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

But realistically, and unfortunately, Jay does study the same major as you, which means those last five semesters? Oh, those were five long semesters of endless debates on discussion boards, in-class duels over psychological theories, and the infamous showdown for the TA position in Professor Kim's Intro to Psychology course. And the worst part? Neither of you got the job because Professor Kim—in a diplomatic twist that made zero sense to you—deemed you both 'equally qualified.' So, the job went to the third best candidate instead. Tough luck.  

You open up your laptop again, opening a perfectly organized Google Doc, ready to take notes on whatever pearls of wisdom Professor Kim is currently bestowing about your upcoming project—which, in hindsight, you should really be paying attention to. You should be. But something so ridiculous, so blood-boiling, pulls your attention elsewhere.  

Jay's desk is completely...empty. 

No laptop. No notebook. Not even a measly little pencil. Did he bring an empty backpack? Or did he just walk in here like he's casually waiting for someone to present him his grade on a silver platter? He's just sitting there like this is a casual hangout—probably expecting his robot baby to parent itself while he simply supervises.  

Before your self-induced inner monologue spirals into complete rage, you suddenly hear your professor's voice cut through the class, breaking you out of your mental rant.  

"Y/N and Jay." 

Wait. What?

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.

You blink. You must have misheard.

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow (and unfortunately) still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you, puppy dog eyes on display. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

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

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

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction.

You bring your voice down to a whisper, leaning towards him. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life.

And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he has the audacity to breathe in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

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

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

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

You're screwed.

Q1 – The Art & Science of Parenting 101 aims to apply different psychological approaches to parenting. What are your current theories and methods that you believe are important to parenting? 

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

"I think babies need more freedom to explore and make their own choices, even if that just means grabbing random things. Bowlby's attachment theory leans towards a secure attachment, but I don't think that means hovering over them 24/7. It's about being there when they really need you, not scheduling every second of the day. I also believe letting babies learn through their own experiences is key. Strict behaviorism, such as Skinner's, sounds exhausting and I don't think a rigid system is what makes a good parent. Babies are messy, and that's okay." 

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

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

"I'm hoping to learn how to be a responsive, yet flexible parent without overcomplicating it. The goal is to find balance between being hands-on without hovering. And, I think this whole robot baby thing will teach me how to handle unpredictable situations—because no matter how much you plan, life is going to surprise you. And also, being able to say I know how to change a diaper under 30 seconds sounds pretty cool :)" 

✭・.・✫

Jay's screwed.  

Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed. 

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

It's 12:17PM.  

He's late.  

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

And while Jay sometimes finds your need for punctuality weirdly endearing (but don't tell anyone that), he also values not getting scolded on a Saturday morning (12PM is still morning to him, don't judge), especially when he could be sleeping in.   

As the café comes into view, Jay considers just throwing the towel in. Maybe he could fake a sudden illness, or better yet, skip town and maybe fake his own death or something. 

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

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

And there you are. Exactly how he imagined.  

Seated at a small table by the window, papers perfectly aligned, laptop open, and two different colored highlighters placed meticulously side by side. Your foot taps in perfect sync with the café's background music, your eyebrows knitted together in focus, and your teeth chewing your bottom lip as if you're about to crack the Krabby Patty secret formula. The window next to you allows the afternoon sunlight to spill through and reflect off of you, making you look...dare he say it...almost pretty.

If Jay wasn't fearing for his life, he might have actually stopped to admire the view. Might have.  

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

"Well, well," you say, quirking your mouth up ever so slightly that Jay thinks he might see you smile for the first time in, like, ever. "Look who finally decided to join us! Must be nice living on Jay Standard Time."  

Jay flashes his usual, unbothered smile as he pulls out the chair across from you.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/N. Seventeen minutes is nothing in the grand scheme of life."  

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

"Yikes. That got dark quick," Jay's mutters, grin wavering. "But hey, glad to see you're finally accepting the fact that it's our future baby!"  

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

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

Without missing a beat, you slap a packet of papers down on the table.

"Here's the breakdown. Feeding schedules, emotional development tracker, diaper changes, mood swings—the whole shebang. We're going to have to approach this strategically."  

"Woah, okay," Jay's eyebrows shoot up, his brain trying to catch up with the words you just spewed at him. "First, how the heck is a robot going to develop emotionally—that's a little scary if you ask me. Like, dystopian, Black Mirror, scary. And second, since when is parenting just following a spreadsheet? Isn't part of it, you know, winging it?"  

At the words 'winging it', your eye twitches so violently, Jay half-expects you to reach across the table and strangle him with his own hoodie strings. 

"Winging it?" You shut your laptop and lean forward. "Winging it is exactly how we end up with a malfunctioning robot baby that starts a fire and fails us. Parenting is all about structure, consistency—"  

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

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

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

You stare at him, unblinking. It's either you're plotting his slow and painful demise or seriously considering what he just said. No in-between.  

And yet, somehow, Jay almost finds it endearing how you can look like the world's most innocent golden retriever while also simultaneously sending him six feet under with just one agonizing glare. Almost.  

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

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

"Oh yeah? Alright, Mr. Ready-for-Anything, what's your brilliant plan?"

"Hmm," Jay leans back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head as if he's got it all figured out (he doesn't). "Well, for one, I was thinking maybe...shifts. We split responsibilities based on our schedules. I'll take the baby on certain hours, you take it other hours, and we'll spend our free days together. And if we're not together and there's a baby crisis, we stay on call." 

In complete honesty, that came from out of nowhere. Jay didn't even know any ideas were subconsciously cooking up within him until the words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it. But there's no way he was going to tell you that, not when you don't immediately tear his idea to shreds. In fact, you actually look...impressed? 

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

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

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

Jay flashes you a satisfied smile and while you don't return it, he hopes you're secretly softening. Just a little. Behind that straight face, you're probably low-key impressed, but no way are you letting him see that.  

"Don't get too excited," you say, as if you've got some sixth sense for whenever Jay throws a mental victory parade. "This is only day one. Of, like, 42. We've got a long way to go."  

"Okay, okay," Jay raises his hands in surrender, though there's no hiding the smirk on his face as he still mentally takes the win. "Message received. Let's just figure out our schedules?"  

You nod, pushing your laptop aside to make space for a sheet of paper you've already prepared—because of course you're prepared. It's like you're about to whip up some elaborate high-stakes legal contract that probably involves blood signatures.

"Okay," you say, clicking your pen, picking a bright blue that basically stabs Jay's eyes by simply existing, but whatever makes you happy, I guess.

You write 'Jay's Schedule' at the top, neatly highlighting it with a pink highlighter that somehow hurts even more. Jay wonders if this is a secret ploy to blind him into submission. He wouldn't put it past you.  

"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"  

Jay squints, clearly thinking hard, as he tries to remember what a 'typical' week looks like for him. Mostly it's a mix of spontaneous decisions, power naps, and gym sessions sprinkled between classes.  

"Uh...well," Jay rubs the back of his neck. "I usually sleep in until like 11...sometimes noon, depends on the vibe, you know? Classes after that, gym a couple times a week, maybe? And, um, naps are non-negotiable. Make sure you pencil those in too."  

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

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

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

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

But instead of escalating the snark, you bite your lip, clearly restraining yourself from unleashing a full lecture on time management. Jay struggles to stifle his own laugh at your reaction. If looks could kill, you'd have him buried under six feet of color-coded charts and to-do lists by now.  

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

"Alright, my turn," you flip the page over with dramatic flair, carefully writing 'Y/N's Schedule' in the same stab-your-eyes-blue and pink highlight combo as Jay mentally braces himself for what's to come.  

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

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

You’re downright crazy. 

"6? As in AM? On purpose?"  

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

"Yes, Jay. On purpose."  

His mind reels, purely amazed, yet utterly horrified at the thought. 6AM? Who does that? He's seen 6AM before, sure, but only when he's stayed up all night, probably cramming for an exam. His mornings start at 10AM at best, and that's very, very rarely. There are birds chirping at 6AM. Who wants to live in a world where birds chirp you awake?  

When he doesn't respond—still in pure shock—you keep going, undeterred by his obvious existential crisis.

"I usually have class at 8AM until 1PM, then I try to pick up a shift here," you gesture around the very café you two are in, "and then—"  

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

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

Jay squints at you. He's never considered the idea of you pulling espresso shots and dealing with caffeine-deprived college students—he's always pegged you more as a 'quiet math tutor for third-graders' type. Or maybe someone who sells cute stationery at the campus bookstore, organizing pens in rainbow order or something. But now that he's picturing it, yeah, it kind of makes sense. Maybe that's why you're so uptight all the time—too much exposure to coffee fumes. Or, more likely (and evidently), you're just an insanely busy person.  

He likes the coffee fumes theory better.  

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

He gives you a genuine smile, and you blink back, as if searching for the hidden jab that's usually lurking beneath his words. But it's not there this time...oddly. Slowly, your expression softens, and you give him the tiniest of smiles.

"Thanks? It's alright, I guess."  

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

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

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

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

"Yeah...no. Nice try."  

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

"Anyway," you continue, totally unfazed, "I usually work here until 5, then Mondays I have a study group for Econ 301, and club meetings scattered throughout the week."  

Jay's head spins for maybe the nth time since he's sat down. Honestly, you lost him way back at 'class until 1PM.' Your schedule is like some kind of twisted Sudoku puzzle, except much more intimidating.  

"So...you're, like, busy...all the time?" he asks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as his brain tries to process how anyone can function like this.  

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

"Yes, Jay. I am."  

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

You narrow your eyes, and he swears you're about to launch into some motivational TedTalk.

"It's called efficiency, Jay. Also, I like to challenge myself. That's what parenthood is about, after all."

Jay stares at you like you've just self-declared yourself a cyborg.

"Oookayyy," he drawls, dragging out the word because, honestly, he's 99% sure you've completely lost it. The remaining 1%?  

It's slightly impressed by your sheer, terrifying level of commitment. He's over here winging life, including this conversation, while you've practically mapped out the rest of your entire existence. 

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

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

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

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

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

And yeah, he’s definitely going to try. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally let out a laugh, to his surprise, and he feels so satisfied he has to bite his lip to hold back a smile. “Definitely, but also part crazy. Like in a you way.” 

Jay chuckles, mentally declaring this conversation a victory. Your laugh fades but for a split second, he catches you studying his face like you’re trying to figure out what his deal is. And he doesn’t mind it at all—because, for once, you’re not giving him the usual death glare that sometimes seems permanently reserved for him.

Then, just as he starts to settle into this very rare, almost… pleasant vibe between you two, you suddenly snap back to reality, capping your pen and standing up. 

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

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

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

"Do you want a free coffee or not?"  

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

You didn't even try to put up a fight. The moment Jay's eyes lit up at the idea, you knew you'd already lost. After three whole minutes of bickering and one PowerPoint titled 'Why Our Baby Deserves to be Named After Star Quality,' you realized there was no saving it. He had arguments. He had fan chants memorized. For a robot baby. Your robot baby. 

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

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

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

He glances down at the robot, which blinks its eyes open and closed with a soft whirring noise, its chubby plastic arms flopping lifelessly by its sides.  

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

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

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

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

"No, it's on schedule. It says here it won't eat for another three hours and it has a clean diaper, so everything should be fine. Babies are predictable once you understand their needs, Jay," you huff, already pulling out the meticulously detailed notes you took during class.

Jay lifts an eyebrow as he turns to face you, "Right...because in real life, babies are totally like robots and are totally predictable. Got it."  

You open your mouth to respond, probably with something unnecessarily snarky (you don't know what yet though, you haven't gotten to that part yet), when a loud, high-pitched wail shatters the air, cutting through the now-empty classroom you two are in. The robot baby's face contorts into an exaggerated crying expression, its mechanical arms flailing (which you didn't even know was possible) like it's preparing for takeoff. 

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

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

"I didn’t do anything!" You snap, panic slowly rising as you flip through your notes quickly. "It's not supposed to be crying! It shouldn't be hungry, and it's definitely not tired yet!"  

The wailing intensifies, vibrating through the room as the cries echo louder and louder, Jisoo clearly not caring about your carefully crafted timeline. You glance down at your schedule. Why is it crying?  

You groan and snatch Jisoo out of the carrier, awkwardly holding her in a way that's probably not safe for any life form, real or otherwise. The wailing doesn't stop. In fact, it gets louder, as if Jisoo's personally offended by your existence.  

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

"Deal with what? It's a robot!" Jay stares at the baby in his arms like it's going to explode. "Oh god, are we even sure this is safe?"  

"Yes, Jay! It's a baby!"

You're sure you're borderline going insane from the combination of the screeching baby and Jay's apparent lack of brain cells.  

Jay's eyes widen as Jisoo practically vibrates with the force of its cries. He tries to mimic the way you were holding her, cradling her against his chest like she's made of glass. It doesn't help. Jisoo keeps wailing, and now Jay looks genuinely distressed. 

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

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

The baby, predictably, continues screeching. 

You both just stand there, staring at the baby, then at each other, the panic palpable in the room. Jay continues bouncing it lightly, as if this will magically solve everything.

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

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

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

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

Jay just shakes his head, gently cradling the baby even though he's sure it's about to lift off into space from how much it was shaking right now. 

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. It feels wrong. Babies are supposed to follow patterns, stick to a routine...or so you thought. You let out a frustrated sigh, your brain bleeding from the sheer sound of the glass-breaking screams.  

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

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

“Deal.” 

You hand the bottle to him, and he places the nipple into the baby’s mouth. The wailing stops almost instantly. The sudden silence is deafening, and both of you are stunned for a moment, looking down at the baby who’s now peacefully drinking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, okay," you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face says differently as you reach out to unnecessarily fuss with the small blanket in Jisoo's carrier.  

Jay's eyes light up at your response.

"A smile? The Y/N gave me a smile? Admit it, we make a great team, huh?"  

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

Maybe, just maybe, he has a point.  

You'd never admit it to him, though. 

Not yet.  

To your pleasant surprise, the past two weeks have been...weirdly smooth. Like, suspiciously smooth. You and Jay have somehow managed to fall into an actual routine—dropping off and picking up Jisoo like two semi-functional adults who almost know what they’re doing. You still wouldn’t call it 'seamless', as Jay himself struggled with having a consistent schedule for once in his life, but at least you’ve gotten through the weeks without major incidents or spontaneous combustion. So far.

That doesn't mean you'll admit to anyone—least of all yourself—that you and Jay might actually make a decent team. His parenting methods are still objectively abysmal...to you, at least. I mean, just the other day, he almost put Jisoo's diaper on upside down. Upside down. You didn't even know that was possible, but leave it to Jay to surprise you more and more.  

Despite his questionable approach to baby care, Jisoo's still alive (you think), and somehow you've managed not to explode at him yet (key word: yet). So, that's...something, I guess.  

Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely.  

It's Sunday, and miraculously, you've managed to give yourself the evening off. No café shift, no emergency club meetings. The stars have aligned, and for once, you have free time. And what did you decide to do with this rare gift from the universe?  

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

You blame Professor Kim for this cruel twist of fate. Something about submitting photographic evidence of co-parenting. After all, this is a partner project.  

Teamwork, she called it.  

You like to call it pure suffering.  

Which brings you here, standing outside Jay's apartment with a tote bag of baby supplies on one shoulder, Jisoo's carrier on the other, and a silent prayer on your lips. If this apartment is even half the disaster you're imagining—frat house, landfill, or some unholy combination of both—you're fully prepared to turn around and run for the hills.  

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

Precisely five seconds later, the door swings open, and...yep, there's Jay. His hair is a mess, his clothes are rumpled, and you can't tell if he's been a) napping, b) playing video games, or c) all of the above.  

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

It's 6PM.  

You stare at him, deadpan.

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

Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow.

"You should see the truck."  

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

Well this can't be right.  

You were expecting a disaster. Maybe a few pizza boxes, a stray sock on the floor, some suspicious stains on the couch. But no.

Instead...it's clean. Like, really clean.  

The floors are spotless, there's a shelf with neatly stacked books, and are those...framed photos on the walls? Like, actual art? Your own apartment doesn't even have actual art, just print outs from Walgreens of photos you thought were cute on Pinterest and your Justin Bieber posters you got from a magazine back in high-school. Now you're starting to feel ashamed.  

You do a double-take, your brain struggling to process what's happening, as Jay still stands in front of you, confused at your gawking.

"Y/N? You good?"  

You snap your mouth shut, as you spot a vacuum neatly tucked in the corner of the living room.

"I...I'm just surprised you even know what a vacuum is." 

"You'll learn I'm full of surprises, Miss Y/N," he says, casually leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you, his gaze making you shift in your stance in front of him. "Come on in."  

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

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

You set Jisoo's carrier down on the couch, the robot itself still fast asleep, as your eyes scan the room, still half-expecting to find a hidden mess somewhere. But instead, something else catches your attention.  

On the wall, next to his kitchen, there's a collection of professional-looking photographs, all framed neatly. This is what caught your eye earlier from the doorway. You find yourself slowly walking closer to get a closer look: landscapes, city stresses, a few candid shots of people—all in the same style, same camera quality, same angles. You tilt your head, intrigued.

Jay comes up behind you to see what you're looking at and you turn to him, "Are these...yours?" 

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

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

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

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Y/N. Full of surprises, remember?" Jay replies, his head tilting to match yours with a cocky smile, which—ugh, okay fine—makes you feel just the tiniest bit flustered. Not that you'll admit it.  

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

"That's just the surface level," he says with a wink, walking over to his coffee table and grabbing his laptop. "I was actually editing photos before you showed up." 

Intrigued, you follow him to the couch and sit beside him as he flips open the laptop. You squint at the editing software on the screen—full of layers, sliders, and all sorts of professional-looking tools that immediately make your head hurt. Jay scrolls through the images, and honestly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow. I should annoy you more often," Jay smirks, clearly way too satisfied with himself. You’re not entirely sure if he meant it to sound that smooth, but your brain certainly processed it that way. Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, and you quickly clear your throat, a small, flustered smile playing at your lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you juggle Jisoo with one hand and dig through the baby bag for her fake bottle of milk with the other, Jay watches you from his spot on the couch, a curious look in his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice is a lot quieter now, lower, and you realize you've never really had a serious conversation (that wasn't a class debate) with him before—at least not long enough to hear this version of Jay. The serious Jay. And if you're being honest, it's making you a bit flustered. You hesitate, hoping your voice doesn't crack or something equally embarrassing.  

“I mean… I guess so. I was raised that way. My parents always had everything planned out. It was like...nothing ever went wrong because there was always a system, a backup plan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a beat of silence as you see Jay pause. For once, he doesn't have a comeback. Instead, he's just looking at you—really looking at you—like he's trying to figure something out, and you feel the heat slowly creeping back onto your face. You're sure you're turning an unflattering shade of red under his gaze on you, and part of you, no, all of you, is begging for him to say something immediately before you combust.  

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

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

You let out a playful scoff to mask your relief, thankful for the release of tension in the air. But something about the conversation lingers in the air, hanging like a question neither of you is ready to ask. And despite the teasing, your mind can’t help but circle back to how Jay had looked at you—serious, curious… something else. 

Before you can dwell on it too long, the doorbell rings. Saved by the pizza gods. Jay springs up from the couch to answer the door, and you gently place the now-snoozing Jisoo back in her carrier. The conversation still swirls in your head as you watch Jay grab the pizza, too caught up in your thoughts to not even question how suspiciously fast it arrived. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, watching Jay at the door from your spot on the couch, your thoughts too heavy for someone who is literally holding a pizza box. 

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

✭・.・✫

The first thing that jars you awake is a piercing scream—Jisoo's, of course. Your eyes shoot open as you squint into the dim light, your eyes adjusting and blinking your way out of the accidental nap you fell into. You're trying to make sense of your surroundings through your blurry vision when...it hits you.  

This isn't your room. You're still at Jay's apartment, wedged into the corner of his couch, and apparently, you fell asleep. Post-pizza-food-coma style. And also apparently, your mutual robot child has decided now was a perfect time for a meltdown.  

The second thing you notice is the faint background noise of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire still playing on Jay's TV in front of you. Your memory jogs back to when you two finally came to a consensus on which movie to watch over dinner, and naturally, the deciding factor ended up being 'young Robert Pattinson,' and no, it wasn't your deciding factor. You didn't expect Jay to even have an opinion on this, but apparently, his love for Cedric Diggory is a hill he's willing to die on.  

And then...that brings us to the third thing. A sound from the other end of the couch—Jay's soft snores. You two must have dozed off at some point during the movie somehow and of course, he's still passed out cold, totally oblivious to the screams of robotic despair coming from the baby carrier seated between you two. You glance over at him, out cold with his head tilted back, looking completely unbothered by Jisoo's increasingly offended screams.  

But even through all these realizations, what really slaps you awake, more than Jisoo or Jay or Cedric Diggory, is the smell. It hits you like a rogue sock to the face, and for a moment, you're convinced that Jay definitely has some biological-grade garbage decomposing somewhere in the apartment after all. The smell is like a powerful, radioactive wave, and all you can think is, What in the world is this guy hiding in here? And why is it now coming to life?  

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

Jisoo.  

Sure, you have changed Jisoo's diapers plenty of times over the last two weeks, but before? There was no smell. At most, you get these weird, vaguely sticky robotic poops in her diaper that barely registered. Now? Now it’s like Professor Kim somehow remotely gave Jisoo a software update and coded her to emit a scent so pungent that it feels borderline illegal. You're convinced this is Jisoo’s final boss form—peak realism unlocked—solely just to spite you and your nostrils.

While you’re here on one end of the couch, one button away from confirming an Amazon Prime order to ship over a bottle of bleach for you to dip your nose into, Jay is still in blissful dreamland, not even flinching. You stare at him in disbelief, hoping your sheer mental outage might magically wake him up. No such luck. 

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

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

Jay jolts, sitting up with a sleepy yelp, blinking in confusion.

"Huh? What happened? Is Cedric okay?" His panicked gaze darts around the room wildly before they finally settle on you, across the couch. 

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

Jay blinks slowly, squinting at Jisoo, his brain clearly struggling to boot up, and then makes the fatal mistake of sniffing the air. The realization suddenly dawns slowly, and you can see the look of horror hit.

"Oh my god, how is she even capable of...of that?!" His voice breaks three octaves as his hand shoots up to pinch his nose.  

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

Jay groans and rubs his eyes, hoping this is all a bad, bad dream. No such luck, yet again. He glances around helplessly. "So, uh, who's changing her?"  

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

"We're changing her, Jay."  

"We?" Jay winces, inching towards Jisoo with all the enthusiasm one has when approaching a radioactive waste barrel. He slowly reaches down to take Jisoo out from the carrier and he starts muttering to himself.

"Great. Fine, this is fine. Just another bonding moment with our adorable robo-daughter." He finally picks her up, reluctantly holding her at arm's length like she's a ticking time bomb. It's so ridiculous that, despite the war-crime-level smell permeating the room, you can't help the small laugh that you let out.  

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

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

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

You shake your head, still giggling as you shuffle the carrier off the couch and lay out a blanket, turning Jay's couch surface into a makeshift changing station.

"Alright, c'mon. Lay her down and hold her legs up. I'll handle clean-up duty. And maybe...brace yourself."  

Jay exhales like a man about to face his greatest fear. He gently lays Jisoo down and lifts her legs up with the tips of his fingers, his face still contorted as if you're both dealing with a toxic hazard. At this point, it probably is.  

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

You crouch down in position so you're at level with the couch and say a mental prayer before you pull open the tiny diaper. The moment you do, the both of you immediately recoil as a scent that should not even be allowed to exist wafts up and fills the room.  

“Oh god.” 

The scent is so ungodly it feels like it came from the depths of hell itself and punched you both right in the face. It doesn’t just waft up—it attacks. You’re pretty sure you lost at least another three years off your life from one breath alone. 

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

You freeze in sheer horror, staring at the scene before you: Jisoo’s somehow realistic poop smeared across every surface of her bottom it possibly could spread to, the stench intensifying with every passing second.

Jay starts pacing the room, spiraling into an existential crisis.

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

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

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

“You expect me to—in this economy—” 

“Grab. The. Wipes.”

Jay groans and he stumbles back towards you, hesitantly rifling through the baby bag. His hands finally find the pack of wipes and he peers over your shoulder from behind you, as if you’re his shield. 

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

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

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

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

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

"I think this trauma is exactly what we're supposed to be learning and 'bonding' from," you retort, carefully tossing a soiled wipe into the designated waste bag.  

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

"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."  

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

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

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

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

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

You can't help but laugh, still a bit punch-drunk from the adrenaline and exhaustion of it all, "We better get an A+ on this project."  

Jay chuckles, leaning his head back against the couch. The room falls into a brief silence, just the two of you sitting there, basking in the weird accomplishment of it all. Then, as if on cue, you both start laughing—a deep, exhausting kind of laugh that two people only share after a 'you had to be there' type moment. There's something about the whole ordeal—how ridiculous, how hilariously awful it was—that just makes it impossible to not laugh.  

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

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

Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"  

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

Jay gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "Excuse you, I did not cry. My eyes were sweating from Jisoo's toxic fumes. A completely normal biological response, thank you very much."  

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

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

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

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

You lean back into the couch, watching Jay coo at the now-peaceful baby. Somewhere between his flair for over-the-top dramatics, his secret love for young Robert Pattinson, and (for some reason) endearing passion for photography, you realize…maybe Jay Park isn’t the complete disaster you thought he was. 

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

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

Jay would like to make a few things clear. 

First of all, none of this is his fault. 

He hopes you understand that, as his thumbs fly over the keyboard of his phone like his life depends on it.

Because, in a way, it does. 

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

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

Because, in a way, you do. 

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

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

Jay blinks at his phone. A dog adoption event. Of course, you'd be saving puppies on a Saturday. Of course. Like some kind of unreasonably perfect human. And here he is, about to save a fully grown man from having to wear solely pink t-shirts for the next week.

Fantastic.   

With a sigh, Jay turns to Jisoo, who blinks back a stare that can only be described as the (robot) baby equivalent of good luck, bro. 

By the time Jay reaches campus, he's bombarded with the sight and sound of...dogs. Dogs everywhere. It's as if he's entered the chaotic lovechild of a Disney movie and a petting zoo, complete with wags, barks, and the smell of kibble. And then he sees you. 

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

You look ridiculously happy, and for some reason, that makes something in Jay's chest feel weirdly tight. He wonders what it must feel like to be able to make you smile that widely, that brightly. It's unnerving. He's not used to seeing you so relaxed, so content—or maybe he's just not used to noticing how good you look when you're not glaring at him.  

"Y/N!" a voice calls from the volunteer tent, snapping Jay out of his daydream. Jay watches from the distance as you haul a golden retriever pup into your arms and walk over to the tent, naturally falling into conversation with your friend and immediately organizing papers. Meanwhile, Jay stands there, dumbfounded at your unbothered, graceful rhythm that you seem to fall into like second nature. 

Jay thought he had you figured out, filed neatly in his mental drawer of uptight-control-freaks-that-happen-to-smell-like-roses-and-have-perfect-smiles, but now? Something about the way you look—so confident, so caring, so...natural—catches him off guard.

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

That brings us to the second thing Jay would like to clarify (more so to himself): he definitely doesn't think you look good in, like, an attractive sense, or anything insane like that. Absolutely not. He just is simply impressed at how you seem to manage and carry yourself quite elegantly. This is pure admiration. Admiration, okay?  

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

And that makes his heart do a weird flip.  

The realization that he's been staring for way too long jolts him back to the present. Focus, Jay. There's a Jake somewhere out there, lost in a sea of pink underwear.  

Jisoo carrier in hand, Jay manages to push his way through the dog-packed crowds until he reaches you, but the second you turn around, flashing him that wide, carefree smile that he's still not used to, he's back to stumbling over himself.  

He’s 99% sure he audibly gulps. 

“Oh, Jay, you made it!” you say, shifting the puppy to one side of your arms to free a hand to grab Jisoo's carrier immediately. Your smile is disarmingly genuine. Jay thinks he may need to sit down.  

“Uh, yeah—um, thanks for taking Jisoo," he swallows, his voice barely steady as he's unsure what this feeling is that came over him. He doesn't know if it's the fact that he's seeing you in a completely different light right now, carrying both a live, adorable puppy, and a (not-so-live) baby, but something is different, and he's at a loss for words. "You look pretty—uh…busy.”  

He curses himself. Busy? Really? 

“Oh, no biggie,” you give him an easy, encouraging grin, one so casual that it really shouldn't make his knees feel like Jell-O. "Honestly, I'd be out here every weekend if I could. But you of all people know my schedule."  

Of course, you'd say something like that. Jay tries to think of a normal response, but his brain is spinning with all sorts of not-normal things about you—like how you look so aggressively pretty right now. 

And it’s a little infuriating. 

"Yeah, no, totally," Jay clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Because who doesn't want to be covered in dog hair and slobber for fun?"  

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Says the guy who's about to be knee-deep in a laundry crisis. Isn't that a little messy, too?"  

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

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

Maybe it's the way you're looking up at him, or the fact that a literal golden retriever is currently nuzzling into your neck, but Jay is doing everything in his power to keep his cool. You're looking at him in a way that isn't remotely judgmental (for once), and it's throwing him completely off-balance.  

Before Jay can pull it together and say something else, another voice calls your name, waving you over to a different table. You turn back to Jay, giving him an apologetic glance.  

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

Before he can answer, or even process your words, he's standing there with an actual puppy in one arm, and Jisoo in her carrier in the other, and his life has become a circus he never auditioned for.  

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

As you rush off with another apologetic smile, Jay's brain, for better or for worse, decides that grin of yours is now his mental screensaver. He watches you go, dumbly smiling before he catches himself. 

Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction.  

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

"Bet no one's ever been in this situation before," he mutters, awkwardly standing there as he waits for your return. Honestly, Jay has never felt so awkward or nervous before. Right now, he feels like the epitome of the standing emoji, just simply existing and there, waiting for your next command and hoping he doesn't screw it up.  

Jay tries to hype himself up. You can do this, Park. It's just a dog. And a baby. And you. You've got this. You totally have everything und— 

Before he can finish his mental pep talk, the sound of your laughter rings from across the event, making Jay's head snap over in record time. He tries not to look—he really does—but the sound is too angelic to not. But right when he does look over, he immediately wishes he didn't. 

You're standing there between two of your friends, and you're giggling. With some guy he's never seen before. And this guy, is nudging your shoulder and making you laugh so hard you're practically doubling over. He feels a distinct twist in his chest. 

Jay’s definitely not jealous. Nope. Not even a little. It's just...curiosity. Pure, innocent curiosity about what that guy could possibly be saying to make you laugh so hard. Because Jay has never seen you laugh like that with him—ever.

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

Fine, it’s jealousy.  

Definitely jealousy.

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

And there Jay stands, bitterness levels maxed, holding both a puppy and a robot baby, while across the way, your roommate Esther gives you a knowing smirk while you're recovering from your giggling fit. Your giggling fit which was caused by Heeseung making a comment about how he stepped in dog poop more times than the average human-being accidentally should.  

“You didn’t tell me that was Jay Park,” Esther says, trying not-so-subtly to sneak a glance at the bitter standing emoji himself, awkwardly shifting his feet in the distance, avoiding to look in your direction. “You said he was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around. You didn’t mention he’s a total cutie.” 

“He was annoying, lazy, and a pain to be around,” you scoff, though you're clearly not thinking that right now as you catch a glance of him trying to balance both the puppy and Jisoo. "But...I don't think he's so bad anymore."  

You definitely don't add that he's a total cutie. Okay, maybe you think it, but saying it out loud is a whole other thing.  

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

You make a sound that's half out-of-tune trumpet, half hiccup, before breaking into a laugh to cover your sudden panic.

"No, I don't!" You clear your throat, trying to stay cool.  "We're just—look, we're just stuck together for this project. That's all. Even if I did like him, which I don't, he definitely doesn't like me back. We're probably just going to go back to bickering with each other to no end."  

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

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

You quickly turn back to your friends, heat rising to your face as you catch Esther and Heeseung giving each other a knowing look before smirking at you. You roll your eyes and grab the both of them by the back of their shirts, turning them in the direction of the event, "Okay, okay, enough with the delusions. Shouldn't you guys be signing off some puppies or something?"  

"Don't say we didn't tell you so!" Esther calls after you as you turn on your heels towards Jay, furiously convincing yourself that they're so wrong.  

There's no universe in which Jay Park, the Jay Park, would ever be into you. The Jay Park, who can get any girl he wants, the Jay Park who's just too different from you, the Jay Park who you proclaimed your school rival (self-proclaimed). Absolutely not.  

When you get back to him, Jay’s desperately trying to look natural—so, naturally, he’s scratching the puppy’s belly while Jisoo clings to his chest like a tiny koala. Your heart gives a little traitorous squeeze, but you ignore it. Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.  

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

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

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

You’re caught off-guard, blinking, wondering if Jay somehow became psychic and caught onto your previous train of thoughts about him, until you realize what he meant.

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

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

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

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

You frown at that, and Jay instantly self-identifies himself as the worst person on the planet. He barely resists the urge to apologize for everything he's ever done, from breathing in your direction to any other crime against humanity he's committed in your eyes.  

"Aw, come on," you say, teasingly, though even you're not sure why. It's just...fun having him around. "Stay a little longer. For the puppies!"  

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

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

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

Yes. 

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

Annoyingly, also yes.  

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

First, there is no way any of this is his fault. If Jake ends up crying over outfit choices and demands to know why Jay ditched him for puppies, Jay has a rock-solid explanation. He’ll explain the situation, which obviously couldn’t be helped. Hanging out with you? Totally justified. Perfectly valid.  

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

Yeah, definitely attraction.  

Your fingers drum against your blanket. You stare blankly at your bedroom ceiling. You let out another deep sigh. You toss and turn, adjusting your position for maybe the hundredth time. It's no use.

You're bored.  

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

Today, life has gifted you a rare stretch of free time. No assignments to finish, no midterms to study for, no dog adoption events or café shifts. And apparently, you have no idea how to handle that.  

You turn to look at Jisoo, who's chilling in her spot on your bed next to you, not having a single ounce of consciousness for you to share your boredom with.  

With another sigh, you grab your phone and scroll aimlessly through your apps. You eventually land in your Photos app and swipe through mindlessly until a recent picture stops you in your tracks.  

It's a selfie Jay took of the two of you, Jisoo sandwiched between your faces. The infamous day of the pizza-night-turned-accidental-nap-turned-godforsaken-poop-incident. You'd submitted the photo to Professor Kim as proof of your co-parenting efforts, but now, looking at it again, you can't help but smile.  

It's strange. The memory should be traumatic—okay, it is traumatic—but in hindsight, it's also...kind of fun. The chaos, the banter, the way Jay somehow managed to make everything feel less overwhelming just by being there.  

Funny enough, that day was also the last time you remember having any sort of free time, and you remember complaining that you had to spend the day with Jay of all people. But now, looking back at it, you honestly did have fun. Being with Jay was...fun.  

Your thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before it unconsciously drifts towards the Phone app. You hesitate, realizing with a jolt that you're one tap away from calling Jay. It's like your brain suddenly shut off and something took over you. What's gotten into you?  

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

No. Bad idea.  

You don't need Jay to entertain you just because you're bored. You're perfectly capable of having fun on your own...obviously. Obviously, even though the last hour of groaning and ceiling-staring suggests otherwise.  

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

And what would you even say? Let's hang out? Like some middle schooler asking out their crush? Not to mention, you already have your 'Jisoo' plans in two days, so it's not like you have an excuse to see him.  

You sit up abruptly, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of ridiculous thoughts. Seriously, do you even hear yourself right now? Looking for an excuse to see him? Since when did you need excuses for anything, let alone something as absurd as spending more time than necessary with Jay Park?  

This has to be some kind of stress-induced meltdown. It's the only logical explanation. All those late-night study sessions, midterm panic attacks, Jisoo diaper changes, and endless extracurriculars must've finally fried your brain. And now, here you are, teetering on the edge of reason, actually wanting to see Jay Park.  

Great. Now you have a new problem.  

Because as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise, the truth is glaringly obvious: you want to see him. And that, more than any amount of free time or boredom, is the real problem. 

You've officially lost it.  

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

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

I've officially lost it, your thoughts scream as you give in, pressing down and watching in horror as your screen shifts to Calling Jay Park. 

And now, your heartbeat picks up with every ring. You can't decide what's worse—him answering or him ignoring the call. Maybe if he doesn't pick up, it'll be a sign from above that you're better off leaving this madness alone. Maybe—

"Hello?"  

Your train of thought screeches to a halt.  

"Y/N? Are you there?"  

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

"Hi...what's up? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" His voice is soft over the phone, a little concerned, like you're about to tell him Jisoo had another diaper emergency.  

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

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

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

"Me?" He sounds genuinely surprised, and you can practically hear the smile in this voice. At least, you think. Or, once again, you've officially lost it. "I'm at the campus gallery, setting up for my photography showcase. It's tonight."  

The campus gallery. His photography.  

You blink, this is news to you. You vaguely remember Jay asking if you could watch Jisoo tonight, and he hadn't given you a reason back then, but this is why he couldn't be on Jisoo duty today. Because of his showcase.  

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

"Yeah. I didn't mention it? Guess I forgot," he chuckles lightly. "It's not a big deal, just a student showcase. I'm just setting up now, making sure my pieces are hung straight and stuff."  

You swallow, a sudden wave of curiosity washing over you. You find yourself smiling to yourself, feeling a wave of endearment wash over you for some reason. The idea of Jay being completely focused and serious about a passion of his is...it's nice. It’s hard to reconcile the carefree, sarcastic guy you know with the thoughtful perspective he must have to capture the kinds of photos he does. 

"You should come by," he says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but you think you catch a small, hopeful note in it. "If you're free, I mean. No pressure."  

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

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

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

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

"Hey, I'm just being a good host."  

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

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

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

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

It's just photography.

It's just Jay.

Nothing to overthink here.  

✭・.・✫

“Okay, Jisoo, in and out,” you whisper to the robot baby in the carrier that's perched in your arms as you stand frozen outside the campus gallery doors. "We're just stopping by to say hi. Two minutes max. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Nothing dramatic."  

Jisoo stares back at you, wide-eyed and unhelpfully silent, which you take as strong moral support.

"Thanks, Jisoo," you mutter, like a lunatic seeking validation from a robot.  

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

Slim. Probably. Right?  

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

The real delay?

The real delay was you standing in front of your closet for a solid half hour like a contestant on America's Next Top Existential Crisis. What do you even wear to casually drop by someone's photography showcase? Something that says, Hey, I'm effortlessly supportive, but I totally don't care if you notice me (yes I do).  

Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist.  

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

It's Jay. Jay. The guy who thought sticking googly eyes on Jisoo's bottle would make her drink faster. Why are you stressed? Why are your palms sweaty?  

But despite all that, you somehow made it here, standing outside the gallery with your stomach doing flips like you're about to walk into your own trial. You made it all the way here, so might as well go in, right?  

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

And there he is.  

Center stage, right where he belongs—or at least where he seems to thrive. Standing in front of a massive wall of his framed photographs, the studio lights catch his profile just right. It's almost unfair, like he's been personally photoshopped by the gods themselves. He's surrounded by a small crowd, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he speaks, his smile so bright you're convinced it's starting to hurt your eyes.  

But his eyes? There's this sparkle in them. Not the usual playful glint you've grown used to, but something deeper, softer. You've never seen him look so alive, so utterly in his element, and it's doing weird things to your chest. 

You can't help but wonder—what does it feel like to make him look that happy? Not that it matters, obviously.

It's just a thought.

A completely useless, irrelevant, go-away-right-now kind of thought.  

If you weren't busy trying not to trip over your own feet and accidentally drop Jisoo, you might have stopped to take it all in. To admire the way he looks standing there, talking about something he clearly loves, like he's found this magical pocket of the universe where nothing else matters. Might have.  

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

Abort mission. This was a terrible idea.  

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

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

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

Great. Now you're here. He's happy to see you. You're standing in the middle of his gallery with a robot baby that can most definitely smell your fear.  

Fantastic. Just fantastic.  

Jay's voice cuts through your existential spiral, "Y/N!" He's waving you over as he calls out your name again, like you're a long-lost friend who's just returned from war. 

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

"Hey!" You croak, trying to sound casual but ending up somewhere between a dog's favorite squeaky toy and a rusty car horn. You internally flinch at your own voice.  

"Wow, you came," he says, his sweet smile still on display as you shuffle over to where he's standing. "And you brought Jisoo! My biggest fan."

He reaches out to cup Jisoo's cheeks, and you almost smack yourself in the head for feeling jealous over your own robot baby.  

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

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

You shift your weight from one leg to another, awkwardly looking up, eventually landing your eyes on the wall behind him, scanning the photos on display. Each photo is so him—a little chaotic, a little bold, but somehow...strikingly beautiful. There's a photo of a rainy city street, the light catching every droplet; a close-up of a sunflower against a brilliant sky; a candid of a kid laughing, his face tilted up toward the sun.  

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

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

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

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

''–talented," you finish lamely.  

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

His voice is so genuine that it throws you off. You weren't prepared for this level of sincerity. It makes your stomach flip in a way that's both exciting and mildly terrifying.  

Jay gestures toward the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets like he's trying not to fidget.

"I wasn't sure if this was your kind of thing, thought you'd be busy and stuff, but I'm glad you came. I, uh..," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, "I was kind of hoping you would."  

Oh.  

Oh?  

OH.  

Your brain immediately short-circuits. He hoped you'd come? Like...in a we're-in-this-together-as-project-partners way, or in a please-let-this-mean-something-more-than-project-partners way? Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? Should you call someone? Should you call him? No, wait, you're already talking to him—focus! 

You clear your throat and try to channel every ounce of chill you simply do not possess.

"Well," you say, attempting to keep your voice steady and failing miserably, "I'm here."  

It comes out barely louder than a whisper, and you immediately regret every life decision that's led you to this moment. But then Jay smiles—soft, something smaller, more private—and it's like the world shifts slightly off its axis.  

"Yeah," he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that makes you forget how to breathe. "You are."  

And just like that, the noise of the environment dissolves, and the rest of the world shrinks to nothing but the space between you and him. The moment feels impossibly big like it might swallow you whole, and yet so small it could shatter with the slightest breath.  

You're pretty sure you're about to combust. Explode. Turn into a human firework fueled entirely by sheer tension and whatever it is that's happening right now. God, why does he have to look at you like that? Like you're not standing here internally unraveling?  

You break eye contact to glance down at Jisoo, and you're positive she's giving you a look that screams, Stop being weird, you two.  

"Anyway!" You blurt out, desperate to break the tension.

"Which one's your favorite?" You gesture to the photos, your eyes darting anywhere but his own. 

He laughs, and the sound is warm and unguarded, "C'mon, I'll show you."  

He grabs your free hand without thinking, tugging you toward the far end of the wall. And just like that, you're helplessly following him, heart racing again, wondering how the hell you got here—and why you never want to leave.  

So much for in and out.  

Jay pulls you towards the far end of the gallery, his hand wrapped around yours like it's the most natural thing in the world.  

It's not.  

Your brain is in full-blown meltdown mode. Red alerts, sirens blaring, a voice screaming, "WE'RE HOLDING HANDS, PEOPLE!"  

But there's no way you're about to let him see how much this is affecting you, so you shove the chaos down, pretending like your hand isn't currently experiencing the touch equivalent of fireworks...and hoping that it isn't sweaty.  

"This one," Jay says, stopping in front of a photo that's somehow both ordinary and magical. It's a simple shot of your campus football field, taken from the bleacher stands. You've stood in those very bleachers too many times to count—for school events, games, the occasional half-hearted attempt to pretend you like sports. But somehow, in this shot, the field looks...different.  

The grass glows like it's soaked in liquid gold under a sky caught between dusk and twilight. The field is empty, yet it doesn't feel lonely. There's something about it that Jay managed to capture—like it holds a thousand stories and secrets, quietly hopeful in its stillness.  

"It's beautiful," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can catch them. 

"Yeah," Jay lets out a breath. "It's my favorite spot on campus. I go there a lot when I need to think or just...get away a bit."  

You glance at him, startled at the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Jay never strikes you as someone who gets lost in his head; he always seemed too confident, too effortlessly sure of himself. But right now, he's not looking at you—he's staring at the photo, like he's seeing something beyond it.  

"I took it on one of those days—I was just overthinking a lot about life. About who I am, I guess," he continues. "I didn't think it'd turn out good or anything, but...I don't know. It felt right."  

Your chest tightens. There's something so raw in the way he's speaking, like he's letting you see a side of him he usually keeps hidden. It makes you wonder how many other layers Jay Park has, and why it feels so important to uncover them all.  

The silence between you stretches as you watch Jay continue to study his own photograph. There's a softness in his gaze, a quiet vulnerability that makes you feel like you're seeing him a way few people ever do.  

But then he blinks, breaking the moment, and suddenly he's looking at you. You stiffen, panic bubbling up at the possibility that he might've noticed you staring at him.  

"Sorry," he says, his voice carrying a self-deprecating chuckle. "It's really cheesy and stupid."  

You find yourself shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence.

"No! Not at all, really," you blurt out, the words stumbling over themselves in their rush to escape. You feel the heat creeping up your neck, mortified at your sudden intensity.  

Jay raises an eyebrow, amused, but doesn't say anything, so you clear your throat and try again, softer this time, "I mean it. You have a good eye, Jay."

You mean it more than you've meant anything in a while, and you hope he knows that.  

For a second, he just looks at you, like he's taking note of something, his head tilted ever so slightly. And then, slowly, his lips curve into that small, genuine smile that makes your chest feel annoyingly warm.

"Thanks, Y/N."  

Your heart does a little somersault. Oh great. There it goes again.  

And as if Jisoo can sense the moment might be getting too serious, she lets out a cry. You stumble back, jump scared enough by the loud and sudden sound, and Jay reacts instantly, steadying you with his hands on your shoulders.  

"You okay?" He asks, his face so close that you can now confirm there are literal, actual flecks of gold in his eyes. Of course there are.  

You blink. I've officially lost it. Completely, utterly, hopelessly, lost it.  

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. Am I okay? No. No, you are not okay. You are decidedly not okay.  

Jay clears his throat, stepping back—though his hands linger a beat longer than they probably need to, but still a second too short than you should probably want to. 

You want to scream into the void.  

"Looks like it's time for Jisoo's dinner," he says lightly with a small chuckle. 

You fumble for words, your brain still offline.

"Uh—yeah. I left her bottle at my place, and I should probably get going anyways," you manage, your voice a little too breathless for comfort.  

Jay glances at his watch, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, something hopeful flicking in his eyes.

"I'm pretty much done here," he says, tilting his head towards the door. "It's late. Let me walk you home."  

You hesitate, torn between insisting you're perfectly fine on your own (you're not) and letting him (you want to). But the way he's looking at you—like it's no big deal, like he simply wants to—makes the decision for you.  

"Okay," you say, quieter than you mean to, and before you can second-guess yourself, Jay's already taking Jisoo's carrier from your arms, effortlessly shifting it onto his own.  

"Let's go," he says, flashing you a small smile that feels like a punch to your stomach in the best way possible.  

And just like that, you're walking side by side into the cool night air, your breaths visible in the chill, easily falling into a comfortable rhythm as you walk through the quiet campus, the streetlights above casting long shadows ahead of you. 

There’s something easy about walking with him like this. It shouldn’t feel this natural—your heart’s doing somersaults and pirouettes like it’s auditioning for a circus—but it does. You steal a glance at him, and he’s focused on the path ahead, his profile calm and soft in the glow of the lights. 

"So," Jay breaks the quiet as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, "Can you believe the project's almost over?"  

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head, "Honestly, no. Feels like just yesterday I was praying you'd drop the class."  

Jay laughs, a sound that seems to echo in the quiet environment.

"Wow, Y/N. I thought we were bonding."  

"We were," you tease, turning to him with a barely concealed smirk. "I just also thought you were going to be a disaster of a partner."  

He scoffs, giving you a mock-offended look, "I proved you wrong, right? I was amazing since day one."  

"You handed Jisoo to me like she was a bomb, Jay," you remind him, unable to stop yourself from laughing.  

"I was assessing the danger!" Jay protests, his grin widening. "And excuse me, I've stepped up. I've made bottles, I've cleaned her, I even know how to put on a diaper the right side up!"  

"Jay, the fact that you had to learn which way was right side up is concerning in itself," you manage to let out with a giggle. 

"Details, details," he waves a dismissive hand. "Point is, I'm practically father of the year."  

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. A sharp breeze suddenly hits the both of you, and you visibly shiver from the lack of warmth your outfit provides. All that time choosing an outfit, and you still couldn't pick a weather-appropriate one. Stellar, Y/N.  

And of course, Jay notices immediately. Before you can so much as form a protest, he's shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, your body immediately stiffening as his hands brush against you lightly in the process.  

You open your mouth to say something—anything, even just a whispered thank you—but Jay beats you to it, sparing you the effort of finding actual, coherent words. 

“So,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just sent your brain spiraling, “what do you think you’ll do when it’s over?”

"Uh," you blink, still needing a second to reorient yourself. "Sleep, for once."  

Jay laughs again. "Fair. You deserve it. But you'll miss me, right?"  

"Not even for a second," you deadpan without hesitation.  

"Liar," he teases, bumping your shoulder lightly.  

You reach your building all too soon, the doors looming in front of you like an unwelcome reminder that this walk, this moment, is about to end. You stop just before the steps and turn to face him, rocking on your heels.  

"Okay, maybe a little," you admit, shrugging. "But only because you make me look like the competent one by comparison."  

"Wow," Jay shakes his head, but there it is again. The smile—the small, amused one that makes his eyes crinkle just enough to be unfairly attractive. 

You glance up at him, wishing the walk had been just a few blocks longer. Or a few miles.  

"Well," you say finally, forcing your gaze away from his own. "Thanks for walking me. And for carrying Jisoo." 

You reach for Jisoo's carrier, and Jay hands it over without hesitation, but not before shrugging like it's no big deal.

"No problem," he says. Then, as you're adjusting the carrier on your arm, he adds, "And thanks again, Y/N. For coming tonight. It really meant a lot."  

Your heart does that stupid fluttery thing again it's been doing all night, and you're starting to think you need a medical consultation.  

"Yeah, well," you clear your throat. "Partner support, you know?" You sound dumb, Y/N. Dumb.  

Jay smirks, but there's something gentler in his expression now, a flicker of something you can't quite name. 

"Goodnight, Y/N. And goodnight, Jisoo," he says, giving a small wave to the baby carrier, making you giggle slightly.  

He takes a few steps back, his hands slipping into his pockets, and gives you one last smile before turning to walk away. But before he gets too far, something bursts out of you, unwarned.  

"Jay!"  

He stops, turning on his heels, his brows lifting in surprise. "Yeah?"  

You step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you, suddenly hyper-aware of how your voice wavers.

"Um, I was wrong. You're...not all that bad." Why am I doing this? "I'm sorry if I've been...you know, intense. These past few years."  

Jay blinks at you, his surprise turning into something softer. You take a deep breath, pushing through the self-inflicted awkwardness. 

"You've been a really good partner," you add, offering a small, genuinely smile. "And well...you're pretty cool."  

His studies your face for a moment, the look longing and careful, like he's piecing together something fragile. A faint smile tugs at his lips, and there's a warmth in his expression that sends heat rushing to your cheeks.   

For a moment, the two of you just stand here, caught in the glow of the streetlamp. The world around you feels distant, like someone's hit the mute button on everything but the sound of your heartbeat.  

Jay's smile widens ever so slightly, and he nods, his voice quiet but firm, "I'll see you around, Y/N."  

He takes a few steps backward, his gaze holding yours until he finally turns and starts walking away. You watch him disappear into the night, the outline of his figure fading with the streetlights, and only then do you realize you've been holding your breath.  

As you step into your building and climb the stairs to your apartment, the night replays in your head on a loop—his laugh, his smile, his everything.  

When you finally reach your door, you lean against it for a moment, his large jacket still wrapped around you. Your thoughts crash into you all at once, and two things become alarmingly clear:  

You are completely, utterly, hopelessly in like with Jay Park.  

You're in so much trouble.  

“Congratulations, everyone!” Professor Kim clasps her hands together at the front of the classroom, a wide smile on her face. “You’ve survived six weeks of parenting. Hopefully, you’ve learned something useful—and that it hasn’t scared you off from actual parenthood one day. Each baby had a monitor tracking its status, so I’ll be extracting that data, combining it with your progress reports, and factoring it into your grade.” 

Jay leans toward you from his seat next to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“That’s a little creepy…she’s going to take Jisoo apart? The poor thing.” His smirk is half-guilty, half-amused, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing out loud. 

This is new. Six weeks ago, he was Mr. Front-Row Enthusiast, and sometime between then and now, you’ve somehow managed to convert him into your next-row-back partner. He’d grumbled at first when you insisted about your theory that the front row screamed try-hard, but since then, he doesn’t even glance at the seats up front anymore. 

“Grades will be out soon! I’ll see you all next week,” Professor Kim announces. “And don’t forget to submit your reflection posts!” 

The shuffle of bags and jackets fills the room as students thank her on their way out. Slowly, the lecture hall empties, until it’s just you and Jay lingering at your seats. 

“Well,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you stand. “That’s it. No more parenting lessons for us.” 

Jay heaves a dramatic sigh, his lips pulling into a pout that’s far too endearing for your peace of mind, “I can’t believe it. I already miss Jisoo.” 

You chuckle lightly but feel an odd tug in your chest, “Right? I got so used to carrying her and her baby bag everywhere. It’s weird not having her around.” 

And it is weird. You never thought you’d feel this way about a glorified hunk of plastic and wires, but now, without Jisoo, something feels…off.  

Or maybe it’s not just Jisoo. Maybe it’s the fact that this project, unexpectedly enough, turned into an excuse—a reason to spend so much time with Jay. Now that it’s over, what happens next? 

The thought hangs between you as the two of you head out of the building. The campus is alive with the hum of students, the energy buzzing around you as everyone heads to their afternoon classes. You both stop outside, standing awkwardly side by side as the silence stretches. 

No more 'Jisoo days' to plan for. No more excuses to text. No more shared tasks or inside jokes. 

Will he go back to his front-row seat, forgetting these last few weeks? Or will he—will you—pretend none of this ever happened? 

Jay shifts beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicker to yours, then away again, as if he’s waiting for you to say something first. 

“Well,” you finally say, breaking the quiet because it’s just too heavy to bear. “I have to head to my next class.” 

“Right. Yeah,” Jay says quickly, too quickly, his hands both fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. “Makes sense.” 

He hesitates, his mouth opening like he’s about to add something, but then he stops. You notice the way he’s looking at you, like there’s a thousand things he wants to say but can’t figure out how to start. You feel that familiar heat creep up your neck, the same one you tend to get whenever you’re around him nowadays.  

“Alright,” you finally say, shifting on your feet. “See you around, then?” 

Jay’s lips turn up in a small, almost longing, smile, “Yeah. See you.” 

He doesn’t move, though. Neither do you. It’s like both of you are waiting for the other to take a step away first, and the pause grows longer and longer until you can practically hear the universe screaming at you to just go already. It’s getting unbearably uncomfortable for all of us, Y/N.  

And when you finally start to turn, before you can even take three steps, his voice stops you. 

“Hey.” 

You glance back over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?” 

Jay scratches the back of his neck, looking like he’s fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Uh, you were also a really good partner. You know, with Jisoo. I mean, you were kinda terrifying at first with all your color-coded schedules and spreadsheets, but…” 

His smile softens, and his voice drops a little, “You were great. Really. I think I learned a thing or two from you.”  

Your stomach flips in a way that’s both infuriating and addictive. 

“Thanks,” you say, trying to sound casual even though your brain is short-circuiting. “Means a lot from someone who had to Google which way a diaper goes.”  

He laughs, the sound bright and warm in the cool air, “Okay, one time, Y/N. Let it go.” 

“Nope.” You grin, turning fully toward him now, your nerves settling under the familiarity of teasing. “You’ll never live it down. It’s my parting gift to you.” 

Jay presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Wow. I pour my heart out, and this is what I get in return?” 

“Exactly.” 

He chuckles again, shaking his head before finally stepping back, breaking the invisible bubble that’s been holding you both in place.

“Alright. I’ll see you, Y/N.” 

“Bye, Jay,” you say, forcing yourself to turn and start walking away.  

You make it a few steps before you hear his voice a second time, softer this time, almost hesitant. 

“Y/N.” 

You glance back, your heart skipping a beat. 

Jay looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.

“Text me when you get home later tonight, okay? After your day is done.”  

You blink, caught off guard.

“What?” 

“Just…so I know you got there safe,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. But the way his voice dips at the end betrays him. 

Your chest tightens in a way that officially feels dangerous. But you know you never want to get enough of this feeling.   

“Okay,” you manage to say, the word quieter than you meant, but it was the most you could muster up with the bubble stuck in your throat.  

Jay nods, his smile widening just a little.

“Good.” 

And this time, when you turn away, you can’t stop the smile that sneaks onto your face. 

✭・.・✫

By the time you get home, it’s late, and the apartment is quiet. Esther is nowhere to be found—probably out with Heeseung or at the library pretending to study. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, the routine feeling strangely empty without Jisoo’s carrier on your arm and her baby bag strapped to the other.  

With a sigh, you find your way to your room and collapse onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Jay’s parting words have been echoing in your head all day, barely letting you focus during the rest of your classes—“Text me when you get home.” 

You hover over your messages for a second longer than necessary, typing and deleting a draft once, then twice, then a third time, before finally hitting send: 

Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe 👍 

You stare at the screen for exactly three seconds before flinging your phone across your bed. You roll over, face buried in your pillow, half hoping he doesn’t reply so you don’t have to overanalyze the significance of a thumbs-up emoji. 

But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly. 

Jay [8:53PM]: good 👍 sleep well. 

A small, ridiculous smile tugs at your lips. You really shouldn’t be this giddy over such a mundane exchange, over a thumbs up emoji, but somehow, here you are. 

And that’s when you start going insane. You shoot up from your spot in bed.  

Why did he tell you to text him? Does he say that to everyone? Or was it just…you? And why does he keep looking at you like that? You’ve never been the kind of person to spiral like this, but lately, everything about Jay has you unraveling in ways you don’t know how to handle.

Clearly.  

You groan, flailing your arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s no use. Every little interaction from the past six weeks replays in your head on a loop—his laughter, his stupid jokes, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp buzz from your phone. You glance over, half expecting a random notification (the other half hoping Jay double texted you) but instead, it’s the one you’ve been waiting for without realizing it: 

Professor Kim: Final grades are posted! 

Your heart leaps. Practically fumbling with your phone, you open the grading portal, scanning the page with a held breath. And there it is, staring back at you in bold letters: 

Semester Project Grade: 100% 

“YES!” you exclaim, punching the air like a successful cartoon character. You’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt, practically bouncing in bed. It’s the kind of happiness that makes you feel like you’re going to burst if you don’t share it with someone. 

And there’s only one person you want to share it with. 

Before you know what you’re doing, your closet doors are wide open, your hands rifling through. Your hands land on his jacket—the one he lent you after the showcase—and something about it feels right. You shrug it on, ignoring the way it smells faintly like him (and comfort), and grab your keys without a second thought. 

By the time you realize what you’re doing, you’re already halfway to Jay’s apartment. It’s not like you had a plan—just this overwhelming need to see him.  

Because somehow, he’s become the first person you want to share everything with, want to experience every moment with, want to feel every feeling with, and that thought is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once.  

But you’ve never been so sure of anything else before.  

Your breath hitches as you reach his familiar door, hand raised to knock. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this is. Who shows up at someone’s place at this hour, unannounced, just to tell them about a grade? What if he already saw it and didn’t even think twice? You look insane, Y/N. Insane.  

But then you think about the way he looked at you earlier, the way he smiled when he said “good job.” 

And you knock.  

✭・.・✫

Jay doesn’t know what’s happening. One second, he’s on his couch editing photos, and the next, someone’s trying to break down his door. At least, that’s what it sounds like. The pounding is so aggressive it makes his mug of tea tremble slightly on the table. 

Heart racing, Jay tosses his laptop aside and scans the room for a weapon. Nothing. Great. In a flash of panic, he grabs the TV remote because, sure, it’s sleek, ergonomic, and maybe intimidating in the right light. 

Bracing himself for certain doom, he yanks the door open— 

“Oh.” 

It’s you. 

At his doorstep. 

Unannounced. 

In his jacket. 

Jay flatlines. All he can do is stare at you in the oversized jacket—his oversized jacket—looking like you walked straight out of one of his dream scenarios. The rational part of him is trying to keep it together, but the feral part of his brain is screaming She’s in my clothes. Marriage now. 

You tilt your head, studying his expression.

“Jay? Are you…okay?” 

He blinks, realizing he’s been standing there for a good five seconds with his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Uh—what’s up?” 

“Well first, why are you wielding a TV remote like it’s a sword?” 

Jay glances down at the remote in his hand, then back at you.

“…I thought you were a robber.” 

“A robber?” you repeat, struggling not to laugh. “What kind of robber knocks?” 

“I don’t know, maybe a polite one!” 

You let out a giggle and shrug, “Fair enough. But anyway, I’m here because—did you see?” 

“See what?” He frowns, confused, and still recovering from his adrenaline rush. 

“Professor Kim posted our grades! We got a 100%!” 

Jay stares at you for a second before the words sink in.

“Wait—what? We got a hundred?” 

“Yes!” You’re practically bouncing, a bright smile lighting up your face. “A perfect score, Jay!” 

He laughs and steps forward, grabbing your shoulders in his hands.

“No way. We actually did it?!” 

“We did it!” You beam back, jumping up and down. “We crushed it!” 

Jay’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, but he doesn’t care. There’s something about seeing you this happy, standing in his doorway like a whirlwind of energy, that makes his chest feel way too full, too complete.  

And for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, caught up in the moment, smiling at each other like idiots. 

When the excitement dies down, Jay notices the way you’re still slightly breathless, like you’d run all the way here.  

“Wait,” he squints. “You could’ve just texted me, you know.” 

“Oh,” you shift your weight, suddenly looking a little shy. “Yeah. But I just…wanted to see you.” 

Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning.  

“Oh.”  

Oh? 

OH.  

“Yeah. So…here I am,” you add, failing miserably to conceal the wobble in your voice.  

“Here you are,” he repeats, his voice back to that soft tone that knows how to make your heart go into overdrive.  

His eyes flicker to yours and stay there as the air between you suddenly feels heavier. Charged. 

“Is that all?” Jay asks, his lips twitching into a teasing smile. 

“Uh,” you clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “I guess.” 

Jay leans against the doorframe, studying you with that stupidly charming smirk of his, “Well, then.” 

“Well, then,” you echo, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever encountered (spoiler: it’s not. That would be Jay’s face. But we’re not admitting that just yet). 

Neither of you moves. Not even a millimeter. The silence stretches so long that you’re pretty sure somewhere in the world, a Netflix show just autoplayed its next episode. 

Then, suddenly, Jay watches as your face cycles through the emotional Olympics: panic, resolve, regret, and whatever it is that makes your eyebrows do that cute scrunch thing he secretly loves. 

“I should go,” you say, finally breaking the silence, your voice quieter now. “Sorry for barging in like this.” 

You look down at your feet, hands still mindlessly playing with the sleeve of his jacket. Jay’s stomach twists at the sight—at the quiet, unsure way you’re suddenly retreating.  

No. Absolutely not. He doesn’t know where his bravery is coming from (he suspects it’s sheer desperation), but he refuses to let you leave like this. 

Before you can fully turn away, Jay reaches out and gently grabs your sleeve, tugging you back like you’re his favorite person in the world—which, spoiler again, you totally are. 

“Wait,” he says, pulling you close enough that you bump into his chest. Both his hands find their way to your waist, steadying you with an ease that feels practiced. Like it’s where his hands were always meant to be. 

And that's when Jay knows for sure: he likes you. He likes you bad. Painful highlighters, confusing spreadsheets, and all. He likes the way you carry your stubbornness like a badge of honor. He likes the way you chew on your pen when you're deep in thought. The way you turn his every sarcastic comment into a competition he's somehow thrilled to lose.  

“You forgot something,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low as his eyes search yours, then your lips, then your entire face.  

Your heart stumbles, your brain short-circuits, and you’re pretty sure your face is now the color of a stop sign. 

“Oh, uh, the jacket?” you stammer, looking down at where he grabbed your sleeve, grasping for any logical explanation. “You’re right. Sorry, I almost—” 

But before you can finish, Jay does something both incredibly bold and incredibly reckless. He leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

For a moment, you freeze. This isn’t real. Is this an alternate universe where Jay kisses you instead of just driving you insane? 

But then, the realization sinks in—Jay is kissing you. Like, actually kissing you. And wow. 

The first touch of his lips sends a rush through your entire body, like every nerve has suddenly woken up all at once. He’s hesitant at first, almost like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, but when you don’t—when you finally let go of all the confusion, overthinking, and denial—you lean into him, your hands both instinctively reaching up, gripping the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself as you kiss him back, now realizing how much you desperately wanted this.  

And that’s all the encouragement Jay needs.  

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers brushing the hem of the jacket you’re wearing—his jacket, you remember with a strange, fluttering thrill. The kiss deepens, gentle but insistent, a slow, breathtaking unraveling of all the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks. 

It’s like the air shifts around you, the space between you collapsing into nothing. You feel his breath, warm against your skin, and the faintest hitch in it when your hand moves up to lightly curl against the back of his neck. 

He’s so close, and everything about this moment feels right—his familiar scent, the steady warmth of his hands on your waist, the way he tilts his head slightly to meet yours like he’s memorizing the shape of you. 

Your heart pounds, the world spinning just a little too fast and too slow all at once. It’s electric, and dizzying, and somehow everything and nothing like you imagined (because, yes, you’ve imagined it—so what?). 

Jay pulls back just slightly, his forehead brushing yours as he grins, his voice a playful mumble against your lips, not wanting to break the kiss, “You can keep the jacket.” 

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you clutch at his arms for balance.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” 

“I’m a multi-tasker,” he replies, deadpan, his lips turning into a teasing smirk as he leans in and steals another quick kiss. He starts to pull back again, but you don't let him—your hand catches his sleeve as you dart up and chase his lips for one more peck, light and fleeting, but enough to make him smile like a fool.

You're completely, utterly, hopelessly obsessed with him.  

"Besides," he adds, the words smug as his arms tighten around you, "I've already sacrificed my jacket. Might as well give up my dignity too."  

You roll your eyes, “You’re still an idiot.” 

“And yet, I’m the idiot you kissed back,” Jay fires back, brushing a strand of hair from your face.  

You shake your head, your voice soft and teasing, “You’re so—” 

The words trail off as you meet his gaze again, and before you can even think about stopping yourself, you tilt your head up, close the remaining distance between you, and kiss him first this time.  

Jay freezes for a second, caught off guard, before he fully melts into the kiss again, one hand instinctively curling around your waist to keep you as close as possible. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no holding back—just the two of you in the quiet of his doorway, and the overwhelming certainty that neither of you wants to let this—this moment, this feeling—to end. 

When you finally pull back, Jay’s eyes are sparkling, his gaze holding an undeniable warmth. 

“You know,” he starts, voice light but tinged with something deeper, “if you keep doing that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.” 

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in just close enough to make him squirm, your smirk playful. 

“And if you keep talking,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing, “I might change my mind.” 

Jay blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a breathless laugh, his arms instinctively circling your waist again, pulling you just a little closer.

“Noted. Say less. I’ll shut up forever. You’re stuck with me now.” 

Stuck with Jay? As in a more-than-project-partners kind of way? 

Yeah, you think, meeting the smile he’s giving you. 

You don’t mind that idea one bit. 

Now that the six weeks of parenthood is over, we ask that you write a reflection post in response to your pre-questionnaire answers we asked you at the beginning of the project. Were your expectations met? Exceeded? Any surprises along the way?

Y/N’s Submission [11:15AM, October 30th]:

Parenting, even with a robot baby, turned out to be nothing like I expected. I’ve learned that no matter how much you plan, babies (and life) have a way of completely ignoring your carefully crafted schedules. It was frustrating at times, but it also made things…unexpectedly fun.

Speaking of unexpected—let’s just say my partnership for this project caught me completely off guard, in the best way possible. Turns out, some surprises are worth breaking the plan for :)

Jay’s Submission [11:30AM, October 30th]:

Honestly? I expected surprises, but I wasn’t ready to lose three years of my life over a diaper change—or nearly go deaf from tantrums. Safe to say, I learned the hard way that being a little prepared isn’t such a bad idea.

But here’s the thing: turns out, babies (and certain project partners) have a way of growing on you. Who knew spreadsheets and sleepless nights could actually be…kinda great? I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes the best things aren’t planned. And also, I know how to change a diaper in 30 seconds now. The right side up :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! let me know what you think °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

m. list here!

tag list (tenk u for all the luv): @neozon3nha @duckling-niki @somuchdard @jkslvsnella @jjongstar111

@haechsworld @joieouioui @zl-world @getoxo @onlyjjong

@puma-riki @e-r-i-15 @st4rwon

@jayla240 [ wouldn't let me tag you,,,sorry! i also had to format the tags weirdly to get this to work :') ]

cue all tags now...

[hoshigray]

based on this old req ask!! sorry it took a while, but glad i got to it :3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem concubine! reader - SFW yet a tiny bit suggestive; proceed with caution - bullying/mistreatment - fluff! - kissing - hickeys + biting - pet names ([little] dove, good girl, pet, woman) - sukuna lowkey treasures you, aww - implied scratching - mention of assault/abuse.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

“…Speak.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” The four crimson-eyed narrows his gaze, and you gulp thickly. “What’s occupying your thoughts?”

When your cursed giant of a husband asks–more like commands– you to speak your mind, you’re expected to comply, of course, however, the thing that clouds your mind isn’t something that the King of Curses should concern himself with; it’s a matter for you to deal with.

It’s a matter you must bear alone…because it’s about you.

“Ugh, it’s you. Get out of my sight.”

“You! How dare you come in between me and Lord Sukuna?! Are you that desperate? Unbelievable.”

“Ignominous wench. Know your place, you lower-class concubine.”

No man with many mistresses in a palace can say he has no favorite—it’s impossible. You, a lower-ranked concubine amongst the many that serve for Ryōmen Sukuna, are his most valuable mistress. He never said it himself, using his actions to speak for himself. You are the one who mostly beds him when he seeks company, the one who attends to his walks around the palace gardens, the one he speaks to as acquaintances, and -in the rare times when he feels like it- will send you a gift or request you be with him during his audiences. 

You also don’t say anything, not wanting to overstep boundaries or speak for your master. And yet, your heart can’t deny the feelings you experience when the tall behemoth chooses to spend time with you, whether for private services or trespassing your personal chambers to nap on your lap as he wishes. Down to your very soul, you knew you were his most favorite.

“Greedy whore; can’t keep your hands off him for a second, huh? You have no right.”

“What? You can’t possibly think you are his favorite; you might as well change from a concubine to a clown.”

But, it is not a sentiment shared amongst the other women under Sukuna’s wing. Some women have been servicing the master longer than you have, some of whom come from affluent names and take their jobs seriously with pride. So, you can’t find it in your heart to blame them for despising you—a lowborn who effortlessly gains the lord’s favor? You were a sight to their eyes; no wonder they had to step in and demand you to stay in your lane. 

You honestly can’t argue with their philosophy; you’d probably be doing the same had you been in their positions instead. Nonetheless, you’re much of a concubine like the rest, and Sukuna finding comfort in your presence is a fact only a fool would discredit. And a fool you were not. To question your work ethic only made you silently agitated, your stomach knotting itself in dread.

“Dove.”

And nearly has you forget where you are right now, straddling Sukuna on his massive frame. His lower hands hold you by the thighs, the tongue of his stomach teasing your elbow with an inquiring lick, and his upper right hand brushing your cheek to remind you of the current moment. He’s still awaiting your answer, and it would be foolish not to respect his time—especially on the tiny occurrence he’s asking worrying about you. 

“My apologies, Lord Sukuna,” you smile and lean to his hand, his palm easily gulfing the size of your face. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Hmph, so now you lie?” His thumb grazes your skin. “If it were nothing, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes, you are right, my Lord,” your hand rubs on his upper abdomen; the pleasant rumble from his stomach is a purr. “But you don’t have to worry; I don’t wish to bother you with my troubles.”

Maroon eyes scan your expression before he holds your chin and brings his face closer to yours. His upper left hand ever-so-slowly slid your hadajuban down along your kimono. “What makes you think you can say your troubles will bother me? That’s for me to decide, which is why I ask.”

“My Lord, please—“

“Woman,” a quick twitch on your chin silences you–a warning. “I won’t ask again. Speak to me, or I’ll leave because I won’t waste my time here when you’re thinking of something or someone else—“

“N-No,” you’re quick to reassure, your hands finding his chest. “Forgive my reluctance, my King,” you sigh deeply as the giant returns to his relaxed state, and you finally tell him of your growing concern. He listens to every word, not forming a reaction until you’ve spoken till the very last point. Then, he speaks.

“Tch, those insolent women,” he sucks his teeth, and the grip on your thighs gets tighter. “And you, how can you let the words of others dictate your value to me; they aren’t me, so they don’t speak for me when it comes to you.”

That’s why I said it wasn’t a matter for you to worry about… “Forgive me, Sukuna,” your eyes widen; you forgot to address his title and spoke informally. You avoided his gaze after seeing his grin and hearing his snigger. A speck of humiliation coincides with the heat of your cheeks; you’re sure he’d feel it, too, as his fore and middle fingers brush your cheek. “It’s just….I don’t ridicule them for seeing me as a threat, as we are all meant to serve you. Regardless, I…pardon my selfishness, but it’s not fair that I should back down and reject your wishes simply because they don’t like it. Again, our purpose in this palace is to serve you, and all the other mistresses have just as much a right to want to be of use to you. Yet,” you chew your lip before saying the following words. “…I wish to be in your favor for as long as possible.”

The sole-slitted salmon eyebrow rises, examining your figure at his pace as the silence makes you uneasy. Then, with no warning in Sukuna fashion, strong cursed hands have you maneuvered, taking his place with your back to the futon. It takes a second to process until you find your master propped above you, his broad frame shadowing yours. Your breath hitches as he brings his face closer. 

“Would you be fine if I go accompany someone else?” Your warmth shifts cold when he asks. 

“No, my Lord.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…you’re here with me now.”

“Right, because I’m not interested in being with anyone else right now. Whoever I see is for me to decide, and if I wish to see you the most,” he bends closer, and the tip of his nose meets yours. He whispers, “then that’s for me to criticize. Those who think otherwise are not worth my time, right?” You nod; he is pleased. He inches near, “So, I don’t want you thinking about this or anyone else, not while I’m here. Understood?”

“Yes, Master Sukuna…”

“Good girl,” his lips meet yours for a soft kiss, your whimper prompting him to peck more. Instinctually, your legs spread for him to come between, and your hands come to cup his face as you return his kisses with merit. 

Moans are exchanged as the kiss becomes more indecent; Sukuna shoves his tongue inside once you open your mouth for him, and you happily accept him with compliant whines and swirls of your own wet muscle for him to tease and nibble. Your lower half begins to buck subtly without your knowledge, reciprocated with humps from Sukuna. 

Sucking on your tongue has you wailing, feeding more to the cursed man’s ego. You wrap your legs around him, the tongue of his stomach venturing out to lick your first layer of robe that serves as an irritating barrier. It pushes the flap to the side, finally greeting the skin of your tummy with laggard laps.

You break the kiss, and he snickers, bringing his lips to your neck and collar to suck on and bite. You sob softly, the sound only humoring the giant. “Mine,” he nibbles on your neck again. “My little dove…”

His lower right hand glides from your leg and ventures to your hadajuban, sliding between the flaps to touch and grope the flesh of your inner thigh.

You almost sink into the sensation of being touched so delicately, yet engulfed by his massiveness. Then, something hits you, and Sukuna is shocked by the sudden push of his chest. “Wait, my Lord,” you start before he can interrogate. “Pardon me, but I…have a request I would like you to hear before we continue. May I?”

He doesn’t reply; you’re wary of moving a limb. But after a brief silence, he says, “Go on.”

You wish to exhale in relief, but you save it for later. “May I please mark you?” 

Of course, the man tilts back with a scowl. “Mark me?”

“Marking, like how you bite and leave hickeys on my skin.”

“And give me a good reason why I’d let you mark me?”

You were treading towards a different wave, a boundary that isn’t typically meant to be stepped over when dealing with Sukuna. And yet you still plead your case: “You leave your marks on me to remind me that I am yours and yours alone, yes?” He huffs in confirmation. “I wish to do the same to you and—“

“Who said I belonged to you?”

“I don’t want to do it to make it appear like that.” Another huff from him. “The other mistresses have yet to ever leave such prints on you as they wouldn’t dare. And yet those same people come to me and chastise me for spending my leisure with you. So, I wish to leave my mark on you to establish my standing, that I shouldn’t be belittled just for gaining most of your favor.” 

Sukuna scoffs. “So you want to use me to show off?”

You nod. “Only if you allow it, my Lord.”

There was another brief silence between you two; four red eyes honed on yours. “One condition,” he begins. “To leave your mark on me entails you are irrefutably mine, meaning you are my thing to play and destroy and no one else’s. Mark anyone else, and you better hope I lean to leaving more permanent bites and features rather than having you dead and staining the garden.” 

A promise you know better than to push aside. “I expect nothing less from my master if I were stupid enough to ever forget that.” You nod while stroking his cheek with your palm. “Until you cast me away, I am solely yours.”

He grins, kissing and faintly chewing your palm. “Fine, scratch and mark away, pet.” His lips come to yours once more, and you have no desire to stop him this time.

SLAP!!

“Fucking bitch, how dare you?!”

“You really have no shame; what the hell is wrong with you?”

The next day was much more intriguing, especially your subsequent encounter with two other concubines. Including the stinging feeling on your cheek, the altercation became more physical. The scales were tipped, and they had enough, voicing their vexation on this fine day outside the engawa strip. 

One grabbed you by the kimono, her teeth gritted with anger. “What a third-rate whore. What kind of concubine doesn’t bother concealing their hickeys? “

The other woman clicks her teeth. “Do you think we want to know your business as you stride these hallways? Are you trying to get killed?”

Usually, after your nights with Sukuna, you’d ensure every mark possibly present to the naked eye was concealed. However, today was different; the hickeys of your neck were visible for everyone to see. 

“I’m sorry,” but you weren’t; just saying words for show. “I must have forgotten.”

They did not like your answer. The one yanking your clothing struck your cheek again. “Forgotten, my ass!” 

“Don’t you dare act smart with us,” The other woman yanks you by the ear, but you don’t make a sound. “Trash like you should relearn some basic manners and etiquette.” 

And who said you were the ones to teach me said lessons? “With all due respect, Tenth and Twelfth Mistress,” the women glare at the mention of their titles from your voice. “I don’t see myself taking your advice when you two aren’t even placed in the top five standings.” 

A hand is raised to strike again. “Why you—“

“Swing that hand, and you will lose it.”

Three pairs of eyes move to the colossal figure coming from the hallway’s darkness. Sukuna, the observer to the entire entourage, tailed with subordinate Uraume right behind him. Your eyes flicker to the trembling hand gripping your clothes; anyone would be a fool not to be scared of the tall man staring daggers at them.

Sukuna bares his teeth. “One second to let go of them, or your hands will be sliced off.” They obeyed halfway into that statement, moving to the side of the wall to fetal bow as thunderous steps came near.

“Forgive us, Lord Sukuna!” Apologies fly out instantly, and heads burrowed in shame in the back of their palms. Seeing such agitation towards you transition to utter fear in seconds—how interesting.

The pink-haired curse stops before you, yet his eyes are locked on the two bowing. “Lift your heads.” The women do as they’re told, their expressions displaying nothing short of horror. Sukuna wore his casual attire, a black yukata robe with his chest proudly peaking out, all four arms crossed to shield his torso. 

However, what contrasts the most is what catches your eyes and the other concubines. The window of his chest showcases a mark that contrasts the color of his skin, situated right below the collarbone of his right pectoral—a hickey out for you three to see. Unknown to the women, there were more markings that were shielded from his clothing—scratches from your nails exist on his back and tiny bite marks on his hidden shoulders. But those were facts only meant for you to know.

“For how many times you hit this one,” his arms unscrew from each other for his left hands to bring you close to him. “Will be the how many scars I’ll leave on those faces of yours.” The shudder of the women is noticed. “Know your place.”

And with that, Sukuna doesn’t allow you to dismiss yourself from the scene. He leads you with him, walking further down the engawa hall. Uraume follows you both, giving the women a short look as they stride. 

You don’t say anything; just strolling to where your master will take you. Because you know he will be there wherever you go—away from the women or anyone to strike you, for only his hands were meant to touch you. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[honeylations]

KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: your usually shy girlfriend wants to ask you to help her but your bad mood scares her off

Warnings/Notes: g!p Minjeong, subby Minjeong, riding, squirting, creampie, handjobs, blow jobs

“H-Hah I’m s-so close…N-Need to cum..” Minjeong growled, stroking her cock faster and shutting her eyes tight when she could feel herself going to the edge.

She wished you were there stroking her instead. Kissing her until she made a mess on your hand.

She needed you.

“Oh my god just fucking kill me, will you!?”

“Wah!” Poor Minjeong jumped from the couch at your sudden dramatic entrance and how the slamming of the door pretty much shook the entire apartment.

You were too pent up with your rant that you didn’t see your girlfriend rushing to pull up her boxers and pants with a red face.

“What’s with the manager being up my ass all the fucking time?! I’m only one person and it’s not my fault other people in my damn group don’t even make up one brain cell! NOT EVEN ONE!”

Minjeong stood in between the gap that separated the living room and kitchen, watching you slam your purse on the counter and pacing back and forth.

Profanity after profanity left your lips and Minjeong could see the steam coming from your ears. Your girlfriend fiddled with the sleeves of her hoodie and cleared her throat to try and get your attention.

“H-Hi babe”

“Ugh and I don’t even get paid extra for doing most of that shitty work! I might as well quit on the spot and see him cry!”

Minjeong sealed her lips and couldn’t ignore the pain in her dick, begging to be touched.

You finished your rant with a click of your tongue and saw your girlfriend standing there in fear. “Shit, I’m sorry Jeongie. I didn’t mean to scream around like that, I’m just really over my shift today”

“It’s okay, babe. Wanna sit down and talk about it?”

Aw your baby was such a sweetheart.

“No no, we can do that later. I think a nap will fix it all”

Minjeong smiled and took your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. Being in a relationship for so long, you two always slept half naked. You being in your panties and Jeongie in her boxers.

Something about the skin to skin contact was just so comforting.

Only issue is, Minjeong’s boner was still rock hard and you managed to miss it even when you finally got under the covers with her.

But your girlfriend wouldn’t let you cuddle.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You questioned, making her even more nervous.

“Uh it’s nothing, really..”

“Puppy, whatever it is, spill it right now” You practically ordered, eyebrow twitching.

Minjeong huffed. “ihaveabonerandineedyoutohelpmecum”

“Huh?”

Minjeong spun on her other side away from you and hugged the blanket over her head. “Haha nothing never mind! time to sleep goodnight I love you!”

Ripping the covers off your girlfriend, you made her lie on her back while you sat on her stomach. “Stop shying away pup. Tell me what you want”

“I’m gonna go get a drink of water—WAH!” Minjeong yelped at her wrists being pinned on each side of her head.

“Say it”

Your girlfriend’s pout almost made you fold but you clenched your jaw to not give in so easily.

“M-My dick is…uh very hard..”

“Uh huh…”

“A-And I n-need you to help me..cum”

You kissed her lips and smiled. “Now was that so hard?”

“Well yes! You stormed into the apartment like a mad woman!”

Now it was your turn to pout and huff. “I said I was sorry!”

Your girlfriend looked away. “You seemed really tired too so I didn’t want to bother—“

Kiss

Minjeong went redder at your sudden move. “H-Hey!”

“Don’t you ever believe you’d bother me, okay pup?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Good. Now let me suck your dick”

Minjeong couldn’t even answer since you already yanked her pants and boxers off to start playing with her dick. She watched you with parted lips, panting at the sight of your small hands working itself up and down.

“You alright there, puppy?” You smiled into her neck as her head hung back in pleasure.

“Better than alright”

You kissed her slowly and got your tongue exploring Minjeong’s mouth which she moaned into. She would pause for a moment to watch you jerk her off faster, losing the strength to keep her eyes open.

“C-Can you please suck me off, baby? Pretty please” she whimpered while looking so deep into your eyes, you were able to see Minjeong well up tears.

“Of course, my love”

You lowered your head down and quickly sucked at your girlfriend’s leaking tip before taking her entirely inside. Her hands found comfort on your head that began to move, being one of the lucky people to not have a gag reflex.

You were able to deepthroat her so easily without a problem and Minjeong was in heaven every single time.

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Y/n-ie”

The vibration from your hum triggered your girlfriend’s hips to thrust, shocking her immediately. “N-No I’m sorry! A-Are you okay?”

Keeping her cock deep inside your throat, you gently caressed her hands on your head and she took it as the green light to do as she pleases.

Minjeong relaxes more and resumed her hip movement, tucking your hair behind your ears as she hissed out profanities.

“So so fucking good, Y/n-ie. I want to cum in your mouth. Can I pretty please?”

Another approved hum from you, and your girlfriend reacted with a punched out groan at the same time she fills your mouth with cum.

“Hah…so good…”

You sat up with pride after swallowing your personal favourite liquid snack, cleaning your mouth with a simple swipe from the back of your hand. Minjeong was still catching her breath when you hovered above her lap and held her still hard length at your soaked folds.

Minjeong doesn’t even remember seeing you remove your clothes because now here you were bouncing on her cock with your plush tits in her view. She kissed the flower tattoos across your collarbones before resting her lips on your right nipple, sucking gently as her hands held your hips.

She could almost touch the tips of her fingers together from how small your waist was, her middle fingers resting on your back dimples perfectly.

“Hah fuck! My Minjeongie is so good for letting me use her cock hm?” You managed to word out despite constantly impaling yourself onto her thick and long cock.

Minjeong nodded cutely and almost choked on her saliva when your cunt seemed to tighten around her more. “U-Use me all you want, Y/n-ie”

“Fuck, feels so fucking good, Jeongie! I’m so close, help me cum baby”

Your girlfriend didn’t need to be told twice. She planted her feet on the bed and wrapped you in her arms like a bear before destroying your pussy with repeatedly hard thrusts.

The bed was constantly being driven into the wall from how fast your girlfriend was going but who were you to complain? Her cock was kissing your cervix deliciously and you immediately became mush in Minjeong’s hands, crying and moaning into her neck to the point you even started to drool.

“Oh god yes yes yes that’s it, puppy! Gonna make me cum all over your big hard cock hm?”

Minjeong painted your neck with hickies. “Mhm want to make Y/n-ie cum!”

“Fuck you’re so good to me pup. Give me all of your cum okay? Want you to fill me until my pussy aches. Can you do that?”

Minjeong’s eyes rolled back at your words. “Hah..I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, baby! Fuck I’m gonna squirt!” You bit onto your girlfriend’s broad shoulder and shook in her arms as you sprayed clear liquid all over her cock, pelvis and even the sheets.

Minjeong continued thrusting until she emptied her balls inside your drenched cunt. “Holy shit…”

You pulled your ass up slowly as Minjeong’s cock fell limp and watched thick globs of semen rain from your pussy, moaning at the sight.

After taking a quick taste of her cum, you took the covers that you pushed off earlier and hugged it over you and Minjeong’s bodies, comfortably laying on top of your girlfriend.

Minjeong brushed your hair and was about to ask how you were until she heard slight snoring. You were knocked out quick. Smiling at the sight, your girlfriend sweetly kissed your head and fell asleep with you, reminding herself to give you a good shower once you woke up.

[fickleminder]

50 Ways to Die in the Devildom

To prevent another war, one of the cardinal requirements of the exchange program was for the exchange students to be alive at the end of it. No one said anything about what happens in-between.

Content warnings: violence, blood, gore, lots of death. Halloween 2024 fic 👻

Diavolo nearly spat out his tea laughing. "In the freezer? Lucifer, you sly demon!"

"It got the job done, didn't it?" Lucifer took a sip from his own cup with a satisfied hum. "The human has a pact with one of us now, and there's nobody else I trust more than Mammon."

"Indeed. The responsibility will do him good, on top of securing our contingency plan if things go awry. Excellent work!"

"Thank you, Lord Diavolo."

.

.

.

"Well, that was fast."

"The human didn't even last one month—"

"All of you, shut up." Lucifer knelt next to your body on the floor of the student council room. "Mammon, use the pact to keep track of their soul. Beel, stop licking blood off the tiles and help Asmo with the cleanup. Levi, going for the jugular was quick but messy; you're on cleanup as well. Satan, prepare the materials for the resurrection spell."

"Seriously, all this over a stupid quiz…" Mammon grumbled.

Finally coming back to his senses, Levi spat out the chunk of your neck still in his mouth and started to scream.

.

.

.

Beel took one look at his half-eaten custard before transforming with a roar and stomping towards the culprits.

"N-Now wait a second, Beel! Lemme explain!" Mammon quickly put himself between you and his rampaging brother. He didn't want to have to participate in that dumb ritual again; calling souls back to their bodies was too much effort. "There's a good reason for—"

"You... ate... My... CUSTARD...!" Beel's fists smashed into the kitchen counter, the cupboards, the walls, and anything else he could get his hands on, while Mammon kept you behind him and dodged the blows. Any physical contact with Beel was sure to obliterate you in a heartbeat, and not even Satan would be able to put you back together if that happened.

With his attention focused on Beel, Mammon failed to notice when a chunk of concrete came flying in your direction, clobbering you squarely on the side of your head with a wet CRUNCH.

You hit the floor like a sack of rocks, and both demons froze at the sight of all the innards spilling out of your caved-in skull.

"Not again!" Mammon wailed loudly.

.

.

.

"I don't want to hear it."

Despite the very real threat to his life, Mammon still felt the need to rub it in Lucifer's face. "Hey, I'm just sayin', ya can't pin this one on me this time!"

"At least Luke didn't see anything. I hope." Beel frowned at the little angel's unconscious form in his arms, with the grimoire still clutched tightly in a death grip. The poor kid had fainted when Lucifer unleashed his power and... Well.

To prevent another war, one of the cardinal requirements of the exchange program was for the exchange students to be alive at the end of it.

No one said anything about what happens in-between.

You had literally dropped dead after Lucifer shifted into a higher demon form to intimidate you into getting out of his way. He never intended to use force against you to begin with, but had also completely forgotten that some things were just not meant for mortal eyes. Your eyeballs were burnt to a crisp, leaving behind charred, bloody sockets in your face.

Lucifer rubbed his temples with a sigh. "Mammon, take my card and go buy a new pair of human eyes. Make sure to get them in the right color."

"Ugh, fine, but you're getting Levi to call their soul back!"

.

.

.

Henry 1.0 purred loudly and coiled up to take a nap after his snack.

"Asmo, quit messing around and do something!"

"Shut up, Mammon! Or do you want to get eaten as well?"

"Mmm grilled snake..."

"For the last time, we're not eating Henry 1.0!"

The human-shaped lump in the giant snake's belly was unmoving.

"You realize that if they die, you ain't gonna get this kind of power anymore, right?"

Asmo froze, the drunk smile on his face faltering. Mammon had a point; Solomon had only lent you a tiny fraction of his magic, and yet you were able to draw out so much power in him! It was undeniable, you were one human he definitely had to hold on to.

"I think it's starting to digest—"

"Bad Henry! You spit them out right now or—"

Sighing, Asmo batted his eyelashes at the giant snake and began working his charm.

.

.

.

"I can explain—"

"Let me guess. You tried to make a pact with the human in another pointless bid to get under my skin. They refused, and so you chopped them up. Not exactly helping your chances here, are you."

"Tch. I can put them back together—"

"You'll have to convince one of your brothers to call their soul back, since you obviously can't do it yourself—"

"Don't you think I know that already?!"

"Stop throwing books at me! You should know better than to lose control of your wrath—"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—"

"Wait, that book is—!"

*THUNK*

"…"

"…"

"F—"

.

.

.

Belphegor knew you and his brothers were close, but he was still determined to make his point. When he had thrown your body down the stairs and into the foyer as though you were nothing more than a mangled rag doll, he expected tears, anger, heartbreak—

"…Seriously? We just finished the last ritual yesterday!"

"ROFL not it!"

"Not it."

"Not it~"

"Belphie, I missed you so much! Oh, not it."

"You guys are the WORST!"

—not whatever the hell this was.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Belphie snarled, pointing furiously at your corpse. Blood was soaking into the carpet, yet even Lucifer looked only mildly annoyed. "Why aren't any of you mad? The exchange program—"

And then your body dissipated into wisps of fading light, another you poked your head over the top of the stairway to stare at the commotion, and Lucifer gave a long, deep sigh before revealing the secret he'd been keeping for centuries.

.

.

.

You'll get the rest when we get our money back! The note read.

Inside the parcel it came with was a severed hand with broken fingers. The area where your forearm had been sawed off was still sluggishly oozing blood, but Mammon guessed you had probably already bled out by that point.

He shouldn't have left you to walk home by yourself after class, but what's done was done. All he could do now was come and get you and put you back together. It was his responsibility as your first, after all.

Mammon cracked his knuckles with a grin. Time to show those lesser demons why messing with the Great Mammon's human was a bad idea.

.

.

.

"How was I supposed to know they couldn't swim?" Levi complained despite looking thoroughly chastised.

"I shouldn't have had to tell you that a mere human doesn't stand a chance against Lotan's floods." Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Satan was attempting something called CPR, having read about it in a book and wanting to try it out. There was a loud CRACK, followed by a quiet "oh shit", and that was when Lucifer decided to call it a day.

"Levi, cleanup duty. For the entire house."

"But—!"

"Satan, ritual. You can handle the spell on your own this time."

"Tch."

.

.

.

Levi and Beel watched from the broken window on the second floor as you floated face down in the garden's pool fountain. At first they thought the fall would have killed you, but apparently the allure of water from the siren's song was too strong for that.

"…Should I try CPR?" Beel asked after a while.

"Please don't, you'll end up shattering all their ribs like Satan did." Levi grimaced. "Tell you what, if you call their soul back, I'll perform the spell and nobody else has to know."

"Deal."

.

.

.

"Drop it."

*growling*

"Cerberus! I said: Drop. It."

Whining sadly, the giant hellhound lowered his middle head and carefully deposited his cargo at his master's feet. The left head nudged it gently with his snout, and the right one howled mournfully when it did not move.

Lucifer couldn't help the small wince as he took in your state. He could tell it had been quick at least; it wasn't the first time you had to take Cerberus out for his daily walk, but he had likely been in a playful mood today, hence the accident.

Said hellhound was clearly remorseful and kept glancing at the small pile of snacks and toys you had brought along to entertain him during his outing. Even Lucifer softened at the sight, and as he bent down to scoop you into his arms, broken spine and charred flesh and all, he found himself looking forward to personally calling your soul back to him.

.

.

.

When your skin started to break out and swell rapidly, Asmo realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

"Darling!" He screeched as you clawed at your throat, which had ballooned in the few seconds Asmo took to reach you. The moisturizer he had given you dropped to the floor, and he quickly picked it up to inspect it.

"Acid lavender scented... Demonologist approved..." Asmo murmured as he read the printed label. "For external use only... Hyperallergenic—"

By the time the answer finally clicked in his brain, you had already turned blue. Not a good color on you, in his humble opinion.

.

.

.

The curse was simple: the afflicted would experience random bouts of frostbite on their fingers and toes, no matter how warmly they dressed. The nipping cold would serve as an excellent inconvenience and at worst, it could completely freeze over entire limbs.

Perfect for a stuck up older brother who always dressed like a prude.

Unfortunately for Satan and Belphie, Lucifer was not the first one to touch the newly-cursed air conditioner remote.

"W-what's going on…" You slurred on the floor, curled up and hugging yourself for warmth. You weren't shivering anymore, which was a good sign, right? "Wh-why… s'cold…"

Satan and Belphie exchanged looks. The effects of the prank were clearly more severe on humans, but even then it didn't seem like you were going to kick it anytime soon. They could try to break the curse, but given how complicated it was to cast it in the first place, maybe they were better off putting you out of your misery.

"It's a Devildom thing. We get cold snaps out of the blue sometimes," Satan explained as he cradled you close, feeling as though he were holding a block of ice. "Due to the skies being constantly dark here..."

Belphie's magic trickled into you as Satan distracted you with magical theory, and before long you had gone still in his arms, eyes closed.

.

.

.

"...Are you sure we can't tell Solomon? I mean, we have solid proof that his cooking is lethal now, so this is technically his fault."

"Who the fuck brought his food into the house to begin with?!"

"I did, sorry. He must have snuck some stuff into the basket of pastries Simeon and Luke gave us."

"Seriously, this guy needs to take a hint when everybody tells him to stay out of the kitchen..."

.

.

.

Lucifer was seething. "What. Happened."

"I didn't do nothin'!" Mammon exclaimed, still clutching you tightly. You looked like you were sleeping in his arms, if not for the blue of your lips and your still chest. "We were just walking home, and then the next thing I know, they're eating dirt!"

"Liver failure, brain damage, collapsing lungs…" Satan looked extremely grim after assessing the current state of your body. "There's no singular cause; everything's just… falling to pieces."

Asmo paled. "But why? We've been so careful! We always got the freshest parts, and there hasn't even been an incident in weeks!"

Levi and the twins nodded frantically.

But the truth was undeniable. There were only so many times you could have your organs and limbs replaced or repaired with magic before your body decided to break down completely. Death was inevitable; it was coming for you regardless of how often you'd already cheated it.

How long did you have left before they couldn't bring you back anymore? You had exceeded all their expectations, lasting until the end of the exchange program and beyond, and they'd grown too attached to let you walk out of their lives permanently. You had gone from becoming a chore for them to prevent all-out war to something akin to a beloved house pet.

"What do we do?" Mammon looked to Lucifer for answers.

But for once, the first-born had none.

.

.

.

"Blacked out from stress, you say? How uninspired."

"I know, right? You would think they'd be able to come up with new excuses over time, but nooo, it's always the same old story."

Michael gave a deep sigh. "Those brothers never learn. How long was it before they became complacent and stopped wiping your memory?"

"Four months." You grinned and reached for another scone on the tray of pastries. "To be fair, they do tend to make it quick so there usually isn't much to remember to begin with."

"I still can't believe those idiots thought the Celestial Realm wouldn't find out," Thirteen snorted. "How dare they think I don't know how to do my job!"

"Now Thirteen, it's natural for souls to spend some time in Purgatory before ascending or becoming Damned. Their mistake was assuming the pacts gave them any claim in the first place."

You tilted your head slightly, as though you were listening to something far away. "Speaking of, I think I hear them calling! Thanks for the tea, it was lovely chatting with you, as always."

Michael frowned. "You can't keep this up forever."

"Chill out, Mikey—"

"Don't call me that."

"—it's all good! No need to start a war in my name or anything."

Thirteen rolled her eyes. "He's right, you know. And just because you had nothing going for you in the human realm doesn't mean you have to keep playing along with those brothers in the Devildom."

"What can I say?" You shrugged nonchalantly as the reaper prepared to escort your soul back to your body. "They make me laugh."

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 3

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language, drug use and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Law

Zoro-ya…

Zoro

DON'T.

Law

We've passed by the same block thrice.

Zoro growls. His fists clench as he continues to stubbornly walk ahead of the other man.

Law

Are you seriously this hopeless at directions?

Zoro

Shut up!! We're here.

Law cautiously looks around. His assumption was correct–the green-head is an idiot.

Law

We're in a damp back alley that smells like piss, in the middle of the night, behind some–

Just as Law is about to take another step, a couple of drunken men get roughly thrown out from a tavern and onto the stone footpath in front of him. The bouncer yells unruly curses their way and slams the door behind him. Law sighs, exasperated, and proceeds to follow Zoro, stepping over the writhing drunkards without a care.

Law

Lovely. Look, just tell me where you want to go and I'll take us there. We've wasted enough time already. Are you even sure that we’re on the right island?

Zoro

Shut up. This is the right place. I’m sure of it…this time.

Oh good, they haven't cleared it out yet.

Zoro confidently walks towards a large metal rubbish bin behind yet another shoddy tavern. He readjusts the swords around his waist, and jumps up onto the container. The top half of his body hangs over the opening and the bottom half flails his legs to offset his balance to make sure he doesn't fall all the way in.

Disgusted, Law covers his face with his arm, glaring at Zoro's behind.

Law

You said you can get us in touch with the Pirate King.

Zoro ignores the man and proceeds to dig through the trash, arms deep. Some of the contents spill over the edge, and some he chucks in random directions by hand.

Law

Ugh… Is digging through the trash really how we get to him? It took us two whole days to travel just to get here for this?

Zoro

FOUND YOU!

With a couple of kicks in the air, Zoro's feet fall on the ground. He has his hands cupped together close to his chest. He quickly shuffles past Law, avoiding eye contact, and begins to whisper into his hands as he finds a quiet dark corner while his back is turned towards the other man.

Zoro

I need you working for me now. Come on.

…

I'm sorry I threw you away. I was afraid that you were tapped. Or that you'll explode.

…

C'mon. Just…I'll feed you extra or something. What do you guys like again?

Law's patience is wearing very thin. He approaches Zoro, tapping him on the shoulder with the handle of his own sword.

Law

Zoro-ya, what's going on?

Zoro jolts. He turns his head to look at Law over his shoulder. His ears have turned red. In the palm of his hand, two tiny curious orbs peek over at the doctor.

Law blinks in surprise, looking at the transponder snail with two curly brows above its eyes.

—

At the other end of the line, a den-den mushi with one eye awakens from its peaceful nap.

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

A delicate hand answers the call. He lifts the snail’s handset close to his face.

Sanji

Hello?

My beloved! What can I do for you?

Mhmm… Uh-huh. Huh.

That sounds like fun. Sure, I'll help you.

I'll see you soon, my love.

Den-den Mushi

Click

The call put Sanji in a pleasant mood. He is on his bed, reading a book on his stomach while smoking a joint. The one-eyed transponder snail readjusts its shell happily before hiding inside itself comfortably for another long snooze. Sanji thinks that's a great idea, and snuggles himself further in the overly large pink feather coat that draped over him like a blanket, bumping the wavy red sunglasses that sat on his forehead.

Doflamingo shifts in reaction. He is splayed naked next to him with his hands behind his head, resting comfortably against an especially large pillow that looks proportional to his massive figure.

Doflamingo

“My beloved,” hmm? Who was it?

Sanji

None of your god damn business, you ugly fuck.

Doflamingo lets out a deep sinister chuckle.

Doflamingo

This your new toy?

Sanji

He used to be.

Doflamingo

The swordsman, eh? I'm glad to hear that you're making progress.

Sanji

Thanks, cunt.

Doflamingo turns his head slightly, nodding at Sanji's hand with the stick.

Doflamingo

Pass it here.

Sanji stretches his hand and gently places the joint between Doflamingo's lips, giving him a chance to take a long deep drag.

As thanks, Doflamingo holds the air in his lungs, leans over and captures Sanji's lips onto his to breathe the smoke directly into his mouth, making the other man moan deliciously. He takes the hint and pushes further in, shoving his long pointed tongue further down his throat.

Sanji lets him flip him onto his back, welcoming his full weight by spreading his legs wide so the large man can fit between his figure. He opens his mouth, giving him further access.

After a few moments of exchanging deep penetrating kisses, Sanji exhales the smoke out through his nose. He pulls back slightly to look Doflamingo in the eyes.

Sanji

Don't touch him, okay?

Doflamingo

You're no fun.

Sanji

I'm serious.

At this point, Doflamingo knows when he can push his luck and when he can't, especially with that tone in his voice. He raises a hand, telling the other man that he won't bother him further about it. Shifting back onto his pillow, he returns his gaze to the blue and the green-haired commanders standing guard by the doorway. They'd been assigned to make sure that he behaves himself which is the usual routine, but nevertheless he finds it entertaining that they always refuse to watch the show directly in front of them or make any eye contact at all.

Doflamingo 

Think the blue one will actually let me have a go at him this time?

Sanji

Only if you want your dick bitten off, darling.

----------

A little drink to quench the thirst. Doffy is a big boy.

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 3

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1, Part 2 part4

-----------------

*"Help me raise this baby Kaiju"* "Pfft, easier said then done..." R/n muttered as she unpacked her stuff in one of the guest rooms, which was by the way; bigger than her apartment, R/n's things barely filled the space leaving huge gaps in the room making it feel little empty.

"Maybe I'll buy a couple plants or something..." She sighed and went to go check with Ken on what exactly she was supposed to do? Like R/n knew she had to help with the baby...but, how exactly? Not everyone can turn into a superhero the size of a skyscraper! She'd like to know what exactly his game plan was?

Meanwhile Ken was pacing around his base while baby was napping in her chamber. He had no freaking clue what to say to R/n, his brain was so fried from a lack of sleep he wasn't thinking straight when he came up with whole co-parenting thing, it was all starting hit him all at once!

What could he get R/n to do? She was just regular human! What if she had work the same time he had a game? what if baby has an explosive tantrum and accidentally hurts R/n or worse? The death of a civvy would not look good on Ultraman's track record, then again; neither was hiding a baby Kaiju but-

Ken's train of though was cut off by R/n coming down the elevator it was kinda weird seeing her in regular clothes and not that obnoxious red and blue Depotman uniform, having traded in said uniform in for a t-shirt and shorts, Ken straightened himself out and tried to make it seem like he wasn't on the verge of a complete breakdown as He and R/n got down to business...whatever it may be.

R/n's responsibilities were meager at due to her human factor, she was basically a glorified playmate to distract the baby whenever Ken was away. "...Feed her when her tummy rumbles, the burp her." R/n interrupted him with a snort.

"Right!~ burp her, right, right- I'll do that, But first lemme just call up Zordon and see if he has any spare Megazords laying around..."

"Ah, a woman of culture I see..."

"Lonely childhood."

"Hm..."

So...yeah, R/n burping Baby was out of the question...almost, they tried testing at method that Mina suggested; it involved R/n running up and down barefoot along the little Kaiju's back as a alternative and while it did work. the downside was it was very unstable for R/n to keep her footing and Baby's need to spit up afterwards caused some problems.

The infant immediately jumped to her feet with R/n still on her back and sent the woman tumbling off towards the metal floor, where she would've broken her back or neck if Ultraman hadn't quickly caught her. "Okay, not doing that again..." Ken said with a sigh as R/n slapped her hand over her mouth. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna barf too if I don't get on solid ground." She groaned Ultraman carefully put her down and announced his intention to clean baby up outside seeing as she wasn't completely done spitting up yet.

R/n meanwhile was looking at the putrid green mess already pooling around on the floor and was worried he was leaving this for her to clean up, until the she noticed the glowing "window" was actually a force field; sea pooled into the room as ultraman and Baby stepped outside before it was all pumped out by a drainage system. "Seriously, how much did this cost to build?" R/n wondered out loud It was then when Mina revealed that this basement use to be part of a spaceship that Ken's father used to arrive to Earth.

Cut to Ultraman rubbing Baby's back as she finishes up her business when the rare silence was broken by a faint yell from somewhere...It sounded like someone yelled "What?!" at the top of their lungs.

To say, things got better for Ken with the extra help would be stretching it R/n again had no idea what she was doing and was mainly in charge of keeping the baby entertained for a couple hours so he could get so sleep or go to work, but unfortunately life's a B, and Though they took turns waking up at odd hours feeding her, or bathing her. (R/n uses a large push broom as a scrub brush.. or at least tries to, that baby Kaiju can run!),

Ken was still heavily needed for heavy clean up duty and that left him exhausted during his games, also he noticed R/n hadn't gone to work once since she moved in with him which caused him to jump to the conclusion that she quit, cos that what the last person who lived with him back in LA did (Which resulted in nasty break up).

So he confronted her "No I didn't quit my job, I took maternity leave." R/n said affronted by his accusation, Ken looks at her skeptical how she could possibly gotten on leave when she doesn't have kids? "I told my boss that a friend of mine had just became a single parent and asked me for help so I'm moving in with them, he gave a month off to adjust my new responsibilities." She further explained that it was Mina's idea and the bot pretended to be the friend on the phone with R/n's boss to confirm her story.

"Okay, if this is the case, then where the heck have you been going when I'm on baby duty?" The exhausted baseball player pressed R/n looked at him slyly. "Toy shopping." Ken at her befuddled "Toys for who?" Cut to Mina helping R/n pull in a large cart with a tarp over it out of the elevator and in front of the baby who looked at it curious as R/n removed the tarp revealing a adult pedal car (It looks like the ZAT van from Ultraman Taro) and a 9ft tall Oni? action figure. (it's Momotaros from Den-o)

The baby cooed reached out to them but R/n stopped her for a moment before pulling out what looked like a giant tan rolled up mattress, Ken wondered if it was for chewing on or something, until the delivery girl cut the straps and plastic wrapping open to reveal it was a vacuum sealed 15 foot tall stuffed bear!

Baby squealed excitedly bouncing on her feet before grabbing the bear hugging it; she started playing with rest of the toys she got. While Ken stares on in awe. "I'd figured she was bored being stuck indoors all watching nothing but TV, I know was..." The baby was apparently acting out a hero saving her bear from a car crash she saw on TV show.

"How much did that stuff cost you?" Ken asked watching the scene feeling guilty about earlier; he pretty much accused R/n of being a leech when she was spending money for him. "The car and figure were from my job, rejected packages that were rotting away in the warehouse for the last 10 years; figured they might as well be used for something." She said the paused for moment seemingly in thought. "Annd you kind of paid for the bear." Ken looked at her confused how he could've possibly paid for the bear, R/n noticing his confusion and sighed. "Of you don't remember, last month? when I brought you coffee and donuts? You acted like a spaz and tipped me?" The cogs were spinning in Ken's head before grinding to a halt now remembering.

"Right....How much did I give you?

"Around 30000 yen or so..."

"...That's three hundred dollars, Yer telling me that bear cost three hundred dollars?"

"Hard to believe, but yes. It was a prop for photos in this designer children's photography shop I deliver to, the guy was selling it cos it scared the kids, I thought we could make better use of it."

R/n said with a little shrug Ken hummed and went back to watching the baby and trying not to doze off, only to be alerted that he had to go to work and begrudgingly made his way to the elevator much to R/n's concern the delivery girl could feel the tipping point was coming, she just hopes that when it does Ken knows he's not alone now and can try to open up to her a little more... 

------------

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

-----------

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva

[seokminfilm]

nangs | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, very short, kissing, pet names (seokmin uses 'baby', reader uses seokmin's nicknames), touchy-feely reader, flirty seokmin, wholesome

🪄 summary, your boyfriend can tell the new shorts he bought have a massive effect on you.

🪄 author's note, saw that picture on my interest feed and automatically thought of seokmin (i'm ill ugh he's so fine)........anw currently in a writing slump & period cramps decided to hit me so i'm sorry for the lack of fics ☹ if you have any seokmin aus/fics/tropes you'd like to see me try, let me know! enjoy me and my hormones going insane

🪄 now playing, happy alone, bss (seventeen)

Your boyfriend lies sprawled out on the bed, brown hair still slightly tousled from waking up from his nap. His eyes are tired, half-lidded and handsome as his eyes scan what must be a long-winded text, based on how his lips move as he reads it.

Something was different about him─your boyfriend was always attractive, drawing your attention from everything you were doing even when he wasn't trying to, but he was doing it easier and more often today.

His hair was the same, that rich brown hair fluffy and calling out to you to card your fingers through it. His face was the same too, features more sharp since he just woke up from what must have been a good nap.

It wasn't his smell either─he smelled of faint cologne and men's deodorant (the good, sweet kind), which he always smelled like. Maybe it was the expression he had on his face─still sleep-ridden, but slowly warming up, a lazy smirk on his face as he chuckled at something on his phone's screen. It was attractive, you wouldn't lie, and you loved it when Seokmin was like this.

But, no; that wasn't it either. What was it that kept drawing you to your boyfriend so easily?

...It was those, wasn't it?

Seokmin had bought a new pair of shorts yesterday, as he came in ranting about how he had found all these good sales at the stores he went to. You didn't really get a good look at them until now, and good god, was he hot in them.

The outfit he was wearing now was simple, a snug-fitting, white tank top, paired on top of the pretty shorts. You could see the dip of his body from your vantage point, and you had to hold yourself back from sighing dreamily, biting your fingernail to distract yourself.

Of course he'd wear that while taking a nap so you could walk in on him. He probably knew the effect his tank tops had on you, laughing silently even now at your blushed face.

"You have so many pictures of me on your phone, baby. Why do you need to stare at me? Do you want another one?" Seokmin's voice is rich, and teasing, and you finally meet his eyes, blushing as Seokmin smirks at you.

"I do want another picture, actually." You play along, walking over to your side of the bed as you slide in beside Seokmin. The scent of his fading cologne draws you in faster than you can think, and you're already tracing the veins in his muscles, giggling as Seokmin laughs at you.

"Photo ops are closed at the moment. Give me an hour when I look presentable." Seokmin jeers lightly, and you shake your head, kissing him slowly as he hums.

"You look presentable just like this." You whisper, hands ghosting over the white tank top and shorts. Seokmin smiles up at you, eyes filled with mirth and sparkles as he chuckles lowly.

"I'd knew you'd like these. I remember when we went shopping the last time, you said I'd look good in this specific style of shorts. See? I took your advice. I listen well." Seokmin's sentence is muffled by the sound of your lips on his again, and his hands fly to your hips, not stopping your ministrations.

"So well." You add, and Seokmin's face gets a splash of red, cheeks blaring up as he scoffs, looking away. Giggling lightly, your fingertips tease the end of Seokmin's tank top, and he giggles, breath picking up as he shakes his head.

"You're such a tease, baby. Stop─get your fingertips away from there. That tickles." Seokmin has a light pout on his lips, and you kiss the pout, smiling.

"I love you." You say out of the blue, and Seokmin smiles, lips flush against your neck as he nods. "I love you too."

"No, like─" You pause, finger tracing Seokmin's strong collarbone. He sighs lightly, leaning into his pillow as his eyes flutter shut for just a second.

He looks heavenly like this─silent as he lets you do your thing. He mumbles something under his breath, and although you can't hear it, you can tell it's a curse word. You giggle even more at the thought of flustering him to the point of cursing.

"What are you laughing at?" Seokmin opens his eyes, so in tune with you that he knows you're hiding a laugh.

"Nothing, Seok." You smile, kissing his neck again as he sighs. "Now let me finish my thought." Seokmin laughs lightly, smile growing wider as you tug at his ears, tracing them softly.

"I love you so much. You're so kind, and funny, and sweet, and understanding, and warm, and loving, and caring, and cheerful, and all mine. All mine." You finish, now just inches away from Seokmin's lips as you look down at them, glossy from your earlier kisses.

"And you're all mine, baby." Seokmin's voice is so low it's a rumble now, and you smile, closing the gap as you close the deal that came with it: you are Seokmin's, and he is yours.

[yeahspider]

SWEET LIFE

A/n- this is so self indulgent. like seriously. maknae line x f. reader fluff yes plz! might get a hyung line version bc I like the concept (maybe if yall want it) but this is just a vibe so vibe with me. nsfw (weed mention) . enjoy and feel free to visit my inbox as I am taking requests. <3

Your apartment was a little crowded today. Considering it was everybody's off day. The boys decided to spend most of it at your place. Your apartment for them was a safe haven away from prying eyes and demanding schedules.

You didn't mind having them all over as you hated when you were alone. The noise they brought provided you a piece of comfort. After grueling rehearsals all week and your never-ending day job, this was a much-needed moment of peace.

“Someone take the scissors out of Jisung’s hand thank you very much!” you say as you prepare yourself for the task of taking down your braids. Your next appointment is in the upcoming week and you wanted to give your hair some time to breathe. With the length they're at, it was going to take a while. But of course, your boys are ever excited to help you out. Well most of them.

I feel like you’re scamming me babe.” says Seungmin as he grabs the scissors from Jisung. No one wanted to risk your wraith if he cut too high.

"I don't know what are you talking about Minnie I'd never scam you beloved," you say in your defense.

"yeah because five dollars is a completely reasonable nonscamming price," he says with a smile. Taking your braids gently out of the bonnet you had them in. Seungmin didn't want to pull on them if he could help it.

Jisung, now scissorless, took a seat beside you on the floor. Setting the blunt wraps on the coffee table in front of you. Preparing to roll for you and himself.

"I wish you would let me help more," he said with a pout on his face. You wanted to kiss it off him.

"you are helping sungie your presence is enough. It keeps me calm. Plus no one else rolls a blunt for me as good as you do." you comfort me as you kiss his now smiling lips. That seemed to satisfy him enough as he started the rolling process.

Felix came bounding into the living room from his napping spot in your room, flopping himself on the couch and picking up the remote to the TV. Channel surfing for something interesting to watch.

"Ugh, nothing is interesting to watch on TV. Felix complained while sliding down the couch to the floor as if he was melting in boredom.

"You could always just hook up the game and play Mario Kart or something. Go see if one of the boys wanna play with you," you suggested. Smiling at his antics as he crawled across the floor to give you a kiss. "You always have the best ideas, babe." He said as he practically skipped out of the room. Making your face flush at his praise. Just waving it off as Jisung teased you for your reaction.

A soft moan left your mouth as Seungmin got to the root of a braid. His hands gently unbraiding and giving your scalp a little rub to loosen up the tension. His hands felt so heavenly on your head after the rough week you had.

Felix took his time dragging a sleepy Jeongin into the room. It seems as if he found his gaming partner, although unwillingly. Going straight to the TV to set everything up, meanwhile, Jeongin sleepily made his way to you. Placing his head in your lap as he pulled himself closer to your stomach. You just laughed softly at his cat-like antics. Reminding you of a certain someone.

"Tell Felix to let me sleep." Jeongin groaned. His warm breath hits the exposed skin on your stomach. Hands hin his hair as you stroking softly.

"Now you know once Lix has his mind set on something there is no telling him anything." you comfort the boy.

"But I'm so tired and you're so warm and comfortable Don't make me go over there to that heathen."

Felix can get kind of crazy while gaming but before you could even suggest a solution the sunshine boy dragged the sleepy one out of your embrace. A groan erupts from the latter. There was no saving him now.

An object in front of your vision distracted you from the two gaming boys. It was the blunt Jisung rolled especially for you. To take the edge off a rough week. Encouraging you to take a hit he placed it right between your lips. Murmurung a "There you go. good girl." as you inhaled. Normally you would correct him for goodgirling you but today you didn't care. So you let him get away with it. Plus he could roll one hell of a blunt. And it was kind of hard to be cross with his hand on your thigh and Seungmin'd in your hair. In fact, you were quite content.

"Chan texted he and the hyungs should be home in a bit," Felix said from in front of the TV.

"Good, that's just enough time for Jisung to roll another one," you suggested. Tugging on the hem of his shirt. Maybe you were too high, because you really wanted him to take it off. Yeah, you were so high.

"Hey, I'm not rolling for those losers! I roll for you, and for you only! They have their own hands." Jisung protested as he offered it to Seungmin to which the younger declined, stating that he had to stay focused on your hair. Something about his statement made your heart swell. It's a nice feeling to be cared for.

Jisung then offered to blunt the other two in the room. They on the other hand accepted his offer. It was often he shared his blunts with anyone other than his girl. He said it was the gentlemen in him.

Time passed as you all waited for the older ones to get home. The more that passed the higher you got, and soon enough everyone in the room was higher than you originally intended to be. You could tell in the way everyone was lying to each other. Felix and Jeongin are a pile of limbs, their game long abandoned. Music is playing from the speakers as they whisper secrets to each other, giggling like school children while watching random videos on their phones. You were still seated between Seungmin's legs. His hands still dutifully unbraiding. Ever dedicated to his craft. But you could tell he was contact high as well. You could tell in the way he would kiss your head ever so often. A gentle reminder of his affection for you.

Jisung was sitting in your lap, playing with random parts of your body. Your face arms legs had all been prodded by him, not that it bothered you in the slightest. His touch left sparks all over you. You were having conversations about whatever came to mind. And finding comfort in one another. The atmosphere is warm and cozy. You wish every day could be like this.

[herzzgeist]

One Piece Headcanons - As If It Was Yesterday

Characters: Zoro, Law (pre-relationship) | Trope: Their little 'first' moments special to them | Content: For fem!readers - Wholesome and a tiny bit angsty in the end- enveloping you in bunny plushies

A/N: A 'little' headcanon for my favorite swordsmen, which 'first' moments they shared with you and cherish the most

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

Inspired by @themushroomofdeath - I really hope you like it

1st time you sparred together Your powerful blows, ferocious attacks and eager upkeeping grabbed the swordsman's attention. It's rare he lets a woman fight him, countering your advances with everything he's got. Usually, Zoro's one to lay low on fighting a woman - but you? He hasn't had this much fun in quite some time.

Swords clash against your weapon, sparks of friction restricting your vision as you notice the devious grin of your sparring partner, Zoro.

"Not bad. I feel like fighting a feral kitten."

"Oh shut it!"

Dodging and parrying every last counter of the pirate hunter, you can hear an amused huff, panting at you in nearing exhaust.

"Hold still already!"

"Only to be Lion song'd by you? Are you kidding me?"

Too fast you spin around, trying to face him while you reply, losing your balance in the process. Very smooth (Y/n). However it was a close call - Zoro caught you just in time, sneering at you in victor.

"Didn't need a fancy attack to sweep you off your feet eh?"

He most certainly did not. Zoro's face is close, too close - you feel his hot breath fanning against your skin. Clearing his throat in the faintest of abashment, he straightens you again and compliments you. Yes, compliments you.

When it's due, the swordsman isn't one to withhold you from earnest opinion, thus he grumbles:

"You did good. Just work on your focus and you'll be rocking the battlefield in no time."

"Thank you, but-"

The onyx of Zoro's eye sparks up, glaring you down in sheer annoyance.

"Just take it."

Seeing the tinge of dusted pink on the tip of his ears, it indicates you to simply accept his final resort. He sure is flustered . . for a reason you cannot explain, one he will remember all too well.

1st time you took a nap together How dare you take in his favorite spot? He loves snoozing on that exact spot, and you sat there, all curled up like a cat and snoring like a woodcutter. Might be an overstatement, at least the woodcutter part, however he cannot help but find it inviting to scoot over next to you and let your head fall down onto his shoulder.

Growling in irk, Zoro scratches the back of his neck - lost in what to do with you. Little you, who lies on his favorite spot to nap on.

"Ugh, what now . ."

Easier said than done, he decided to take a seat beside you. A bit stiff and insecure on his feet, he lowers down and shuffles closer, your legs touching slightly. By the warm sensation you rustle up in your sleep, yet only for a split second - practically jumpscaring the man.

Luckily, Zoro was able to keep his grunt of surprise at a lower volume and his gaze shoots to your mellow, sleepy face. Your head rests on his shoulder, breathing in steady pace. Adorable, is what comes up in the pirate hunter's mind - observing you closely and a smile hushes over his lips.

"Annoying little thing."

As annoying as he likes to describe you, he swiftly adds, giving a kiss to the crown of your head:

"Sweet annoying little thing."

And all that he muttered, whispering to himself in disbelief how warm and soft he feels in your presence. Truly calm and at ease. Something only you can provide him.

1st time you gave him a nickname What did you just call him? Wait. It actually sounded nice, coming from you. (Not like that shitty cook) The way you cood, almost singing it to him all sweet and with a hint of tease. Zoro knew you weren't a person to test him by calling him names - you simply showed your rosy, loveable side. Oh and he knew - and how he did, to this day.

"Hey tiger, got a minute?"

"Erm, are you talking to me?"

"Do you see anybody else around?"

Confusion is beyond what plasters over Zoro's face. He is utterly dumbfouned - uncertain on how to react to that highly unusual 'nickname' you just shot at him. Tiger?

"Say it again."

"What, tiger?"

"Again."

"Uh . . tiger."

It grows on him, not to mention bears a flattering effect on the stoic swordsman, thinking he's as strong as that striped beast. He does like the sound of that, especially how your voice melodically hums it to him.

"One more time."

"Zoro, come on don't play that card on me I-"

"That's not my name anymore."

A wide grin flashes at you and he approaches you slowly, making you a tad bit rattled. You feel how the heat in your cheeks saturates your skin softly, earning a vexed sigh out of you. However, the booming call of a certain cook lets the so called 'tiger' gnash his teeth in gremlin like manner.

"Oi Marimo! Get your ass over here!"

"Can't you see I'm busy, curly brow?!"

He isn't done with you, oh no. After losing the cussing battle against Sanji, Zoro swears to come back and make you say it. Again.

"Don't move a muscle. You and I have to settle something, sweet thing."

Oh dear . .

1st time he saw you There you were, your wanted poster. It was the high bounty that caught Law's attention first, then remembering the rumours of your foolish doings and last but not least - analysing your appearance. The surgeon isn't prone to be attracted to the outside of a person, still you withheld a certain esteem that he finds vaguely intriguing, even upon your first meeting. This is a feeling he dearly holds in his memory, to say the least.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n)."

"Trafalgar Law."

His hand is cold, calloused, rough around the edges. The firm grip tells you he isn't likely accustomed to this sort of introduction - a calm one, where individuals can actually look into eachother's eyes and not throw curses of rivalry against one another's heads for once.

Though that you are rivals, you thought it to be a more decent, mature way of greeting a fellow pirate. Strange? Yes, but it's extraordinarily welcoming for the Surgeon of Death, knowing there are in fact less numbskulls around than expected.

Grey irises basically scan you, closely following the outline of your feminine frame. You're smaller than he ought you to be. Staring down at you, he notices an intesity within your eyes - one that captivates and lures him to think you are smarter than you give yourself credit for.

Modesty is something he dare say deems attractive - he remembers the moment he realized what kind of woman you are.

"Let me make this clear, don't cross me. I don't take kindly to idiots hindering me, understood?"

"Oh I would never."

It's the mischevious tone in your voice, mixed with a coy sneer that opts him to click his tongue and roll his eyes. She's a rival alright, a supernova at that. She's dangerous - more than in one aspect.

1st time he fought beside you Law was astounded by your endurance and bravery throughout the first battle beside you, not to mention your cunning - knowing where and when to engage and find possibilites to support your partners. Yet also, it wasn't a surprise that you are too naïve, too impulsive and impatient for the next move. Speaking of, Law found himself staring whenever you strike with all your power - it left him rather entranced seeing your gracious demeanor, unadmittedly for certain.

"Watch where you're going idiot! Wait for the right moment!"

"I'm not yours to command, Trafalgar!"

Of course you run off by yourself. Law is used to that kind of behaviour, to his misfortune. Sprinting after you, he watches in horror as a giant's hand is about to grind you into dust and pounds the earth with an ear deafening rumble.

"(Y/n)-ya!"

Out of impulse he cuts the enormous fist in two, only to find . . nothing beneath. It was then where a sudden booming groan takes Law aback, coming to notice the giant loses his conciousness and slams to the ground face foward.

"What the?"

"Were you looking for me?"

Tapping his shoulder, you stand next to the panting doctor, who subsequently snaps at you for scaring him like that. How dare you!

"Y-No! Absolutely not! I knew you were alright, his hand was just . . conveniently in my way to be torn to shreds."

"Ah, I see. And it wasn't my name you called out to I assume."

"I didn't call for anybody, you're simply imagining things, (Y/n)-ya."

An arrow aims straight for your head, which you dodged in a swift move, almost effortlessly. More and more arrows follow, a rain of wooden projectiles threatening to pierce every inch of your skin, yet you scoff at the Heart pirate and beckon him nonchalantly.

"Come on, Law-ya! This isn't over yet! Let's find the others!"

With his mouth wide agape in appall he glares daggers into your back, grinding his jaw in rage as he yells close behind you:

"Mock and boss me one more time and I swear I'll hold your heart hostage."

"How romantic."

It's how you chuckle while hurdling the battlefield like a cat, parrying and countering attacks along the way, leaves Law tongue tied. He growls - deftly supressing the wave of emotion he hates the most. Fluster.

1st time you hugged/kissed him Never has he thought of getting this close to you, or you to him. And to his absolute demise, he never imagined to 'long' for more, after you wrapped your tiny self around his neck to console him. Nevertheless, the kiss was nothing but malice, taking him off guard - oh how he wanted you to do it again. He reminisces in that past moment almost daily.

"What was that just now, Heartstealer?"

"It was nothing! Can you just not? I'll treat this laceration with a quick precautionary stitch and cauterize. Just- have my back will you?"

You notice distress in his quaking frame, shaking and riled up as if seen a ghost. His hand takes care of the deep wound on his forearm, which he only recently caught, not accepting a unanticipated infection. There's too much blood loss and Law feels his concentration fading.

Without further ado, you support the man who gnarls at you immediately. Not keen on your kindness.

"Don't touch me!"

"You need my help right now, dumbass! Hold still and tell me how to stitch and cauterize!"

He obeys - for now. Unwilingly he instructs you how to lead the needle and burn the tissue in order to close his wound. The process is quick but rather painful, seeing how Law grits his teeth and hisses by the contact of the searing heat.

"You're distraught."

With your voice low, you attempt to find the reason for his unease.

"It was the burning chapel wasn't it?"

No words are needed to see the overwhelm in Law's expression. Never have you thought to witness this man in genuine worry, almost fear. He mutters, swallowing the clump of sorrow to maintain his pride.

"They didn't deserve to pass like this. They haven't done anything wrong . . I was too slow. Too weak. I couldn't -"

"Hey, hey . ."

After you wrapped up his lower arm with bandages, you enclose the distance between you and Law - slinging your arms around his neck to sufficate the dark thoughts fogging up his mind.

"Sshh, don't dig into a scar that's still healing. Calm down."

Your warmth singes his heart, earning a surprised 'Mhm' out of him as he earnestly enjoys being hugged by you.

"Oi, what are you-"

It's forgein, still unpleasant somehow, nevertheless he cannot bring himself to turn you down. Slowly, his functioning arm glides over your back, subtly pulling you closer, movements hestitant out of uncertainty.

Drawing back, you look deeply into his eyes, smiling bright enough to reassure he isn't alone. Not anymore.

"Now isn't the time to talk. If you ever wish to get rid of the weights on your shoulders-"

A tad bit awkward - your face inches closer to his, your hot breath fanning against Law's cheeks - making him . . feel. Thus you continue with the sweetest of consoling hums:

"- know you can put your trust in me. Your sense of security is important to me and I will never force anything out of you. Just pay mind to your mental stability. Alright? We need you as the Surgeon of Death in battle right now . ."

Unexpected, lips, soft and sweet as honey, peck the round of his face, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. Law is left speechless, unsure how to respond, dumbfounded by your gentle gesture he cannot fathom if he ever received.

Besides Corazon's affection he earned, this is fairly different. He sighs as he sees you walking out the room to check the battle's situation outside.

Fingertips drift along the spot you placed your velvet skin upon. Why does he want you to do it again?

"Tch, this woman . ."

No, this is bad. He needs to forget this ever occured, but he couldn't, he never did.

[six-eyed-samurai]

HEHEHEHEH >:3 all im saying is rindou x popular!reader? like bratty and full of herself. REGINA GEORGE. REGINA GEORGE READER. but not actually

SORRY IF THIS IS CONFUSING I JUST WANNA KNOW WHATYOU THINK AND IF YOURE WILLING TO WRITE IT OK LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH MY WHIPPED CREAM ON TOP OF THE PERFECTLY WARM HOT COCOA WITH THE SMALL BUT REALLY TASTY MARSHMALLOWS <3 (almost typed mushrooms LMAAOO)

A/N: PLEB MY BELOVED TERIYAKI PEACH I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG YOU ALREADY KNOW MY EXAMS AND SHIT BUT RAAAAAH ALSO I NEVER WATCHED MEAN GIRLS (the number of people about to murder me rn) SO I HOPE I'M ACCURATE, PLEASE ENJOY IN RETURN FOR THE VIP I LOVE YOU TO PLUTO AND BACK (Did someone say mushrooms? Well, I am a fun-guy- get it? GET IT?!) WARNINGS: Swearing and breaking the fourth wall. Nowhere says the Haitani brothers attend high school, but nowhere also says they don't, so here they do.

🌸First of all, let this be known that the one and only Haitani Ran came up with that title and is responsible for the whole story below (or so he claims, because I did about 80% of the work typing this out).

🌸Anyways.

🌸You meeting each other was probably inevitable - the Haitani brothers the head delinquents of Roppongi, you the literal head of every single popular girl clique.

🌸Do you hit off at once? Absolutely not. You made a very cutting comment about Rindou’s hair, even after your terrified girlfriends (minions) warned you about who he was and similarly Rindou called you a wannabe with fake Prada and your makeup was smudged.

🌸What a great start to a friendship! From that day onwards every time you both caught side of each other it was snarky jab after snarky jab at each other’s hair, clothes, shoes, speech, grades, lunch, anything you both could think of.

🌸Rindou hates you because you’re just such a prissy, spoilt princess brat with hella nice hair. You just hate him because who does he think he is to insult your fashion taste? So what if he’s a total bad boy delinquent? What about it?

🌸Ran thinks it’s hilarious. Rindou cannot not talk about you even when you’re not around, even if it’s just the repetitive complaints of your usual petty annoyingness, and gee, Rin-Rin, are you really that obsessed with them that you even still think about what colour their nail polish are in the middle of a fight? It’s almost worth missing a nap, Ran decides, when he can record Rindou spluttering out protests and declarations that you’re the ugliest, nastiest girl he’s ever met.

[Ran turns the camera to his face] I think my brother is a kindergartener afraid that girls have cooties. Sigh, he was supposed to be the more mature of the two of us.

🌸Even your traitorous girl clique were shipping you both! Even after you told them to shut up! Ugh! You don’t need them to stalk out his socials, you don’t need them yammering about how you always greet him in the corridors (”Did a dog shit on your shoes, Haitani?”), you don’t need them taking pictures/photoshopping you both together. Just, ew.

🌸Once again, so what if both your rivalry was turning into a…really weird obsession?

🌸You were pretty sure you hated Rindou with a burning passion, but one day you caught yourself studying your figure in the mirror, judging - judging?! - your own outfit by his standards: what sort of comments would he make this time? Is he going to jibe that you had finally found a skirt shorter than you? Are you actually wondering if he’d like it?!

🌸You CANNOT be seriously breaking one of the sacred rules of no pink on Wednesdays right now either just because Rindou had once made a muttered remark this being the only thing that looked good on you.

🌸Rindou was quite certain as well that if he could, he’d run a bus over your snobby ass but…here he was, cringing at whatever made him stop by the roadside asking if you needed a ride home since it was raining. Not because he cared or whatever. He hoped you got soaked to the bone sitting on the back of his motorbike. And that your hair gets messed up from wearing his helmet.

🌸You treating him to the boba cafe that nearly opened the next day was also strictly returning a favor so you didn’t have to owe your biggest nemesis. In fact, HE should owe you for making you wash his stupid jacket that he had forced you to wear that night as protection from the storm.

🌸Rindou sasses you right back, but yes, he supposes he owes you another drink. And another. And another. And another.

🌸At this point it’s so obvious the only reason none of you have admitted you’re practically dating already is because of your egos and reputations.

🌸That is, until one day when you’re strolling home by yourself and scrolling on your phone to scoff at Rindou liking your latest photo, A FEW DAYS AFTER YOU POSTED, you’re cornered by several members of a gang with a grudge to settle with the Haitani brothers - what better way to do so than to target Rindou’s girlfriend (see, if they were targeting Ran, they’d have to target every girl in the neighborhood, playboy that he is).

🌸Now you might be a prissy mean girl but that don’t mean you can’t kick ass physically. One of them made the stupid mistake of trying to grab your arm and EW, WRECKED YOUR NAILS? You slapped him pretty hard for that…and the rest too, with your new handbag, which made you even more pissed off, because hello, that shit was designer?!

🌸Also, congratulations, you've managed to make them all extremely self conscious while unconscious with your jibes about their appearances.

🌸Unfortunately that can't help you when more of them show up and you're outnumbered. At least you're going out with a bang…but not in the way you think when Rindou’s motorbike suddenly plows through them, engines revving, an irritated expression on his face.

“The only one who gets to piss my girlfriend off is me, so hands off.”

🌸Most people would've thanked him once he was finished knocking them all out but you immediately start berating him for taking so long in arriving.

”You really took your sweet time driving here, so of course I just decided to head home myself! I didn't need you to accompany me!”

He rolls his eyes because if he ignores your ungratefulness he can see your fingers trembling as you picked the items fallen from your bag, evidence of you still being shaken up. This (bratty) behaviour was just your…coping mechanism? Or maybe just typical you. “Then how'd you get surrounded so easily?”

“How was I to know people wanna beat me up today?!”

“You know what, stuff it and get on the bike. I'm taking you home whether you want me to or not.”

You stuff it and get on the bike. Rindou only uses that tone when he's worried.

🌸Aaand then it's only when you're on your doorstep do you realize what he had said.

🌸Rindou sees you frozen and raises an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“You called me your girlfriend.”

“So I did. You're not? Aren't we going on dates and everything? Sorry, “outings just between the two of us”?”

“We never talked it out or agreed on anything official!”

“I didn't know we needed to file a form and get a stamp of approval in order to go out.”

“OMG, you're so annoying I can't even - fine, I’ll…be your girlfriend. The moment you get a better haircut.”

…

“WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE! Ugh, gotta go redo my makeup now.”

“Stop talking about my hair then, before you look at yours.”

He's still smirking as he leaves.

🌸So now Rindou has not one but two divas in his life. He can't decide which of you is the lesser evil, because on one hand he has Ran killing his wallet with all his dye jobs and on the other you're demanding his wallet for that new pair of heels he's pretty sure will break in less than a day.

🌸What are dates like? You dragging him off to clothing/shoes/jewelry stores, mall dates where you empty him of all cash on dessert and boba, going to the latest trending cafe while you judge everyone around you, spill all the gossip at school and naturally, talk about yourself (Rindou secretly eats your cake and zones out when the last one happens).

🌸If you've seen that reel of someone digging a hole in their cake to secretly reach the other person's cake…you know what Rindou does now.

🌸However both you and Rindou's favourite kind of date is when you're just driving around aimlessly in your shiny sports car with the wind blowing through the windows and the only fights are over your music choices: popular ones from Instagram (you) and whatever strikes Rindou's fancy.

🌸Has Ran attempted to gatecrash your dates and plead to drive your car? Absolutely. Have you let him? No. It's one of the few things you and Rindou agree on.

🌸You can be pretty annoying with that full of yourself attitude, “camera eats first!” mindset and double meaning words, but it's only annoying because Rindou has to go clean up your messes and apologize - apologize - to whoever was dumb enough to incur your wrath lest you get into trouble (for the millionth time). You'd never admit it, but you'd stopped directing any of that bxxchiness at him a long time ago.

🌸For anyone that did something wrong to Rindou though? Hell hath no fury like a woman with an ego bigger than Jupiter and a protective instinct for her man.

🌸If Japan has prom, you both would be crowned king and queen. If someone's hosting a party, you both would be the ones rocking the dance floor. If any of this happened, it's because you forced Rindou and he can't say no, however much he grumbles.

🌸First kiss was probably during some heated argument in front of everyone and Rindou claims he only instigated it because he wanted to shut you up. You reveled in the gossip that came with such a scandalous affair but yes, he took you very aback with the “Because I love you, dumbass?!”

🌸(Ran recorded everything and posted it on his super secret fan account following his favorite crack ship, the two of you.)

🌸Rindou doesn’t strike me as the jealous type. He KNOWS, however full of shit you are, you ain’t going to leave him for any of those losers just staring at your ass. To him they’re just minor annoyances, like flies - bothersome, but easily dealt with. Besides, who’s crazy enough to take THE Haitani’s girlfriend?

🌸You don’t get jealous much either, or so you claim. It’s quickly proven false whenever you snap spitefully at any girl who dares to lay a manicured hand on him - you won’t even tolerate your own girlfriends. You’re proud of the fact he’s so attractive, but that makes you even more possessive, because some deep, dark, insecure part of you is afraid he’d leave you for a similar girl, because surely there’s no difference between you and them. Just petty, bratty, arrogant mean girls.

🌸”I’m just going to get this tattooed on you, because for the hundredth time, sweetheart, I’m not going to leave you for some airhead bimbo. You’re more than just a face, and yeah, you really need to get off your high horse sometimes, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

🌸The sappy moment is ruined when you sniffle and slap him lightly for making you cry and ruin your mascara. Rindou sighs (how many times has he sighed throughout this piece of writing already?)

🌸Average conversation between you and Rindou:

“I’m not surprised he got beat up with that kind of hair…is he trying out a new style from the slums?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t even throw a punch properly.”

“I bet you put him in his place, bae.”

“I’d kill myself if I didn’t.”

🌸And if the person in question overhears?

“Oh…we were just, you know, discussing your ah, state of hair. Bad hair day? Thought so.”

“That black eye really goes well with it, don’t you think?”

“Now that’s why you’re my boyfriend.”

[meaningofaeons]

i absolutely love the way you write jing yuan! can you do some general domestic hcs for him? like him coming home after a long day at work and what'd you'd do together?

or on the weekend, where he doesn't have work, some cute sleeping in shenanigans before reader has to drag him out of bed

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ mundanities

⊹ character(s) - jing yuan ⊹ word count - 803 ⊹ notes - gn!reader

hi anon!! ty for the req!! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get around to it </3 hope you enjoy !!! (=♡ ᆺ ♡=)

Now, Jing Yuan is a man of dignity.

He's the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, for Aeons' sake. Though he may nap on the job occasionally, nobody would ever question his status and majesty.

Well, nobody except for you.

It's difficult to take him seriously when he's composed one minute on screen, delivering a speech to the masses with poise and honor, and the next thing you know he's practically flopping into your arms once he gets home, completely deadweight.

Even if you wanted to scold him for throwing himself at you, it's impossible.

The General looks like a puppy when he gazes up at you, sleep-ridden expression doing nothing to get rid of the shine in his eyes upon seeing you.

"I'm home, my dear."

And his honey-like voice soothes your senses the moment he greets you.

He sounds so unbelievably happy and relieved, it's adorable.

Jing Yuan doesn't really enjoy doing anything too excitable or bothersome after a long day at work.

Really, if he had his way, he'd spend every day (working or no) in your arms, snuggled up in bed. Maybe with Mimi cuddling you two as well.

He's not opposed to some activities, though.

If you offer a game of chess or a walk around the gardens of Central Starskiff Haven, it's unlikely he'd deny you no matter how tired he is

But sometimes he will have to gently let you down—especially so if he's already made his way to bed and can't bring himself to rise from the plushness of the mattress.

(If you do end up going out, halfway through the walk or chess game he's probably going to hang off your shoulder and start snoozing lightly)

Jing Yuan can nap and doze just about anywhere and everywhere, but when he's in bed, there's not a chance in Hell of waking him.

Let him hold onto you, though.

Even if he'd rather not do anything at all once he's off work, he's still quite clingy to you.

Will groan and grumble like a child if you need to go on an errand or some such

Tries very hard to convince you to just stay with him.

Please bend to his will!! He works so hard, just let him enjoy the time he has to snuggle up to you

Stroke his hair, run a gentle caress over his face, he'll melt into your touch

Odds are he either gets home very very late and it's time for bed anyhow, or he gets home midday/afternoon and sleeps enough to ruin his bedtime

If it's the latter, he might be the one to ask you to take a walk and admire the stars together, surprisingly.

Jing Yuan is like a cat in that he can kind of sleep as much as he wants to, but sometimes he appreciates going out with you more than cooping up inside!

Now onto the weekends... You can't tell me this man is the worst on days off.

No need to get up for work? To him, that's as good as 'no need to get up at all.'

Obviously, there's stuff to be done around the house, or he made a promise to train with Yanqing that he may have forgotten about once he felt your hand stroking his white locks in the morning...

Not to mention, not only does he not get out of bed himself, but he has a vice grip on you making it so you can't get out of bed.

"Jing Yuan, darling. I need the restroom."

"Mmm... five more minutes..."

"I'll come right back."

"Ugh..."

I swear, if you thought he was petulant about you leaving during his afternoon naps, he's a whole new breed of childish in the morning if you so much as scoot away from him a bit

Forget about getting him up to do any chores or run any errands.

It'd be a miracle if you yourself managed to get out and finish them.

Once you manage to escape his grasp and run the errands you need to take care of outside of the comforts of your home, you will in most cases return to a somewhat guilty Jing Yuan who has taken care of the household chores in your absence.

You had scolded him to get up and get ready to go ten times before giving up, so the guilty conscience it put on him was very deserved, but...

He may be a bit lazy, but he's far from a slob, and he's certainly not ungrateful enough to you to let the household work go unfinished in your absence.

Besides... once your warmth had vanished from beside him, he found it a bit easier to drag himself up.

He's quick to latch right back onto you when you get home, though.

[6rookie-writer0110]

West End

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Request - Superman (Tyler) x male reader. Clark Solar Flares (when he uses up all the solar radiation in his cells and is basically human for a couple days to a week) and then he gets hit with a cold that knocks him on his ass and so we take care of him. And clark os just like “how do you live like this??”

Clark was fighting Morgan Edge then he used all his power to destroy a device in space. Since that day, he lost his powers temporarily and he is feeling very weak.

“I think I'm sick,” Clark said.

You went out with Clark and he started to sneeze a lot. He sneezed one more time and he fell onto the ground, you tried not to laugh.

“I think you have the flu,” You said.

You helped him stand up.

“I don't want to be sick,” Clark said.

“No one likes being sick. Let's go home” You said.

At home, Clark took a hot shower and you are making tea. Clark is starting to cough a lot and he hates it.

“How do you live like this?” Clark asked.

“It sucks but we have to get through,” You said.

“My body feels sore,” Clark said.

“That will happen. Drink the tea, it will help” You said.

“Okay,” Clark said.

Clark did drink his tea and you give him medication. Later you made him soup, but while watching tv you don't sit next to him.

“I don't want to get sick, so we can't cuddle or kiss,” You said.

“That's even worse. How long I will be sick?” Clark said.

“Almost two weeks,” You said.

“You can't be serious, Y/n” Clark said.

“Clark, stop being a baby. It's different for everyone. Remember I got sick and it was almost two weeks” You said.

“I remember. Then you threw up and ruined my favorite shirt” Clark said.

You made it to the bathroom but not in time to throw up in the toilet. His shirt was on the floor and you threw up on his shirt then threw it away.

“I will buy you a new one,” You said.

“Good” Clark smiled.

---

The next day, Clark is feeling worse. He is coughing even more and you keep giving him medication. He coughed really hard and his throat started to hurt.

“Ugh, being sick is the worst” Clark whined.

“I agree,” You said.

But Clark did stay in bed for a while but got out of bed.

“Clark, you should be resting,” You said.

“I got bored being in bed all day. I will help you with the boxes” Clark said.

You are getting the boxes filled with Christmas decorations from the closet to the living room. Clark starts to help you, he sneezed and he dropped the box and it hit his feet. He is in pain and you are shocked.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“No. That hurt but I will be fine, give me a minute” Clark said.

You picked up the box and his foot is fine, but the box was heavy. But he did help you decorate the Christmas tree and the living room, took a while since he moves slowly. After decorating, he fell asleep on the couch but he is coughing a lot. After he nap, you gave him medicine and you made the soup again.

“I forgot that I can't use speed,” Clark said.

“You did look funny trying to use speed,” You said.

“You are mean for laughing at me,” Clark said.

You start to laugh and he rolled his eyes at you.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✯

Clark is happy to have his powers back and he can't stop smiling. He wrapped his arms around you and he starts to kiss you passionately.

“I’m not complaining” You smiled.

“Me either. I have a wonderful boyfriend who helped me feel better and I'm happy I can kiss you” Clark said.

You smiled and you start to kiss him. Later it started to snow, then you and Clark went to play in the snow. Clark starts to build a snowman with you but the snowman started to fall apart.

[spyderlondon]

Hi hello its me im here to give off checkmate ideas

Pomni gets sick and queenie goes on full on mama bear mode And takes care of her while kinger panics..a lot

Overbearing Parents

What do you mean Queenie's supposed to be abstracted? She's always been around helping Kinger be a parent to the circus members!

Ko-fi

----

"I'm fine, really!" Pomni tried to argue and sit up in her bed while trying to stifle a cough, ignoring the body aches she was feeling- why the heck was she feeling bad in the first place? She wasn't even in her real body!

A gentle disembodied, dainty gloved hand pushed the young jester down on the bed, "Now, now, dear... it'd be better for your body if you just let yourself rest longer..." The black queen chess piece told her quietly, her other hand was on top of the white king chess piece's face where the mouth should be beside her, stifling the panicked sounds coming from him.

The jester looked over at Kinger with a quirked brow, "...so, how loud and crazy would he go if you released him?" She questioned with a light, uncertain chuckle.

Queenie started laughing for a second or two before looking down at her adoptive daughter, "It'd be like releasing a shaken champagne bottle that can scream." She answered easily with a roll of her eyes, obviously speaking in a very affectionate tone about her husband. Her husband who was currently trembled in need to escape his wife's hold.

Pomni laughed a bit before coughing a bit roughly, "Ugh... shouldn't this stupid place be free of sicknesses?" She grunted tired as she drank a little of the tea that her adoptive mother gave her when she came in earlier, the warm fluid calming down her throat a bit, "...thank you for the tea, Que-..." She paused as she caught the looked the queen chess piece gave her, "...er, mom. Thank you... mom..." She mumbled in embarrassment, still unused to the adoption. Which, honestly, was the oddest adoption ever since it was literally Caine picking her up, dragging her to Kinger and Queenie and informing the three of them that they were now a family with the jester being their new daughter... an idea that Kinger immediately warmed up to while Queenie took a little more time before she became a rather overprotective mama bear towards her.

...and as much as Pomni wanted to be against the whole idea of being seen as someone's kid, she couldn't lie- it felt good being doted and loved on like a daughter by a couple who obviously wanted a child in the first place.

"CAAAAINE!" Her thoughts were suddenly cut short when she heard her Kinger's shrill voice fading off to the distance in a very fast manner and eyes shot up to see him racing off out of the pillow fort to find the ring leader with his hands in the air.

She glanced at Queenie, who let out an amused snort, "He wiggled his way out of my grasp, butterfly." The black chess piece answered the question that wasn't asked before shaking her head, "I should make sure he doesn't scare off Caine." She mentioned as she put a finger to her chin then looked down at the little jester as she stood up, "Get some rest please." She waited until she got an affirmative answer before leaving the fort herself to go after her husband.

Once Pomni was alone, she turned to lay on her side with a sniff and placing her mug down so she could rest. She smiled at the sight of the monarch butterflies painted on the mug before closing her eyes to get a nap.

----

A/N: I LOVE Checkmates! And it's criminal how little content there is for them especially fanfic wise so I'm taking it on myself to fix that!

[ihavemanyhusbands]

hey beautifuuuuul, i wanted to pretty pls ask for a story with Spencer x oral fixation😈

pls, just the thought of the whimpers, the mess, the overstimulation, the long afternoon turned into a long night... ugh🤤 (also locked jaw bcuz that is some haaard work) :3

tqm sister and thanks in advance for blessing us with your words🥵💖

Como te amoooo chingada madre 😮‍💨😘 (this got rlly self indulgent lmao)

———-

You and Spencer had spent the afternoon curled up in the couch. You napped with your head on his chest while he read, brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

When you first stirred from your slumber, you inhaled him deeply, the mere scent of him making your mouth water a little. You pressed closer, seeking more of his heat, fingers dipping into the gaps between the buttons of his shirt.

He hummed slightly at the contact, unmoving as he let you explore. You kept your eyes closed as you reached for his hand, and he let go of one side of his book to let you grab it.

You brought it to your lips to plant a kiss on his knuckles… but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop there. You kissed the center of his palm next, moving to his fingers. The tip of your tongue darted out to taste his skin, and a sudden primal sort of urge flared within you.

You took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before holding it between your teeth for a moment. Spencer released a slow breath, his body shifting.

“Having a good dream?” He murmured, knowing well you were awake despite your eyes still being closed.

You’d in fact had some very nice dreams about him, probably due to the fact that he’d been invading all your senses in your sleep. You were greedy, and you could never get enough of him, that much was obvious.

Instead of responding, you surreptitiously slid lower, hooking one leg over his as you got closer to his navel. You untucked his shirt, pushing it up to expose more of his skin.

Your eyes fluttered open just as you dipped your head and licked down the light happy trail that led from his belly button to the top of his pants.

At that point, he was distracted from his book. You looked up into his eyes as you moved further down and licked his crotch over his pants, fingers digging into his thighs. His hips bucked, and you tried to undo his zipper with your teeth, desperate to get to what was underneath.

“I want you,” you rasped, pupils blown wide as you dragged your nails down his thighs. “Need you.”

In a tremulous voice, he said, “Let me help you with that.”

He undid his pants hastily, pushing them down along with his underwear. You immediately took him into your mouth, feeling as he got fully hard inside of it.

You hummed at the velvety feel of the underside on your tongue. The musky, slightly salty taste of him was almost narcotic, and you moved your head ever so slowly, savoring it all.

His fingers threaded through your hair, and all you could hear were his soft murmurs of “So good, baby,” over and over again.

———