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jakesimfromstatefarm · 9 months ago

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the art & science of parenting 101 ─ p. js

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

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

It's 8:30AM.

You're the only one in the room.

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

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

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

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

Front row.

Try-hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A loud, messy, procrastinating curse…

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

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

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

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

Jay's desk is completely...empty.

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

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

"Y/N and Jay."

Wait. What?

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

You blink. You must have misheard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.

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

You're screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

Jay's screwed.

Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed.

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

It's 12:17PM.

He's late.

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

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

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

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

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

And there you are. Exactly how he imagined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re downright crazy.

"6? As in AM? On purpose?"

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

"Yes, Jay. On purpose."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He likes the coffee fumes theory better.

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

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

"Thanks? It's alright, I guess."

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

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

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

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

"Yeah...no. Nice try."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Jay. I am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yeah, he’s definitely going to try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want a free coffee or not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby, predictably, continues screeching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay's eyes light up at your response.

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

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

Maybe, just maybe, he has a point.

You'd never admit it to him, though.

Not yet.

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

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

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

Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely.

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

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

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

Teamwork, she called it.

You like to call it pure suffering.

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

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

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

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

It's 6PM.

You stare at him, deadpan.

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

Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow.

"You should see the truck."

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

Well this can't be right.

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

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

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

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

"Y/N? You good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisoo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're changing her, Jay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You expect me to—in this economy—”

“Grab. The. Wipes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay would like to make a few things clear.

First of all, none of this is his fault.

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

Because, in a way, it does.

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

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

Because, in a way, you do.

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

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

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

Fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes his heart do a weird flip.

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

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

He’s 99% sure he audibly gulps.

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

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

He curses himself. Busy? Really?

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

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

And it’s a little infuriating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine, it’s jealousy.

Definitely jealousy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

Annoyingly, also yes.

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

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

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

Yeah, definitely attraction.

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

You're bored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

Great. Now you have a new problem.

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

You've officially lost it.

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

Your train of thought screeches to a halt.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The campus gallery. His photography.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, I'm just being a good host."

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

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

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

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

It's just photography.

It's just Jay.

Nothing to overthink here.

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

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

Slim. Probably. Right?

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

The real delay?

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

Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist.

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

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

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

It's just a thought.

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

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

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

Abort mission. This was a terrible idea.

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

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

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

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

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

''–talented," you finish lamely.

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh?

OH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for in and out.

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

It's not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to scream into the void.

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

You fumble for words, your brain still offline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jay!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're in so much trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

“Alright. I’ll see you, Y/N.”

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

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

“Y/N.”

You glance back, your heart skipping a beat.

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

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

You blink, caught off guard.

“What?”

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

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

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

Jay nods, his smile widening just a little.

“Good.”

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

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe 👍

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

But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly.

Jay [8:53PM]: good 👍 sleep well.

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

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

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

Clearly.

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

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

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

Professor Kim: Final grades are posted!

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

Semester Project Grade: 100%

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you knock.

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

“Oh.”

It’s you.

At his doorstep.

Unannounced.

In his jacket.

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

You tilt your head, studying his expression.

“Jay? Are you…okay?”

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

“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Uh—what’s up?”

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

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

“…I thought you were a robber.”

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

“I don’t know, maybe a polite one!”

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

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

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

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

“Wait—what? We got a hundred?”

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

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

“No way. We actually did it?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning.

“Oh.”

Oh?

OH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s all the encouragement Jay needs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t mind that idea one bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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yvesssssssss · 3 months ago

Note

HAIII I love ur writing sm it tickles my brain heh...could i rq blue lock (anyone it's ok!! but heh..kaiser kunigami, sae and bayou are my favs) x manager reader that's usually blunt forward n quiet but she actually got the warmest smile ever when she smiles??? idk if u have seen when life gives you tangerines but oh my gosh park bogums smile on the series Geniunely had me having a heart attack everytime he was on scene

Blue lock x manager! Reader

—Michael kaiser, sae itoshi, barou shouei, kunigami rensuke

Thank you so much! The way I wrote this is honestly so cringey, but I tried. T_T Still, I hope you like it💞

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser wasn’t used to being ignored.

Not when he walked into rooms like a spotlight followed him. Not when his smirk had fans screaming and cameras snapping. And especially not by someone who worked with him every day.

You were quiet. Not shy—just efficient. Calm. Blunt.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” Kaiser asked one day during training, jogging up to you with that usual glint in his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re picturing how fast you could bury a body.”

You blinked. “Depends on the soil. You done flexing?”

His teammates wheezed behind him. He was left blinking for once.

You were the team’s manager—always showing up before the players, organizing their chaos into something functional. You gave out water bottles and brutally honest feedback like it was part of your salary package.

Kaiser thought you were amusing. And annoying. And kind of hot in a terrifying way.

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖

What got to him the most, though, was that he’d never seen you smile. Not really.

A twitch at the lips when Isagi tripped over a cone. A raised brow when Barou called himself royalty again. But never a full-on, warm, heart-hitting smile.

Until one afternoon.

The team was clearing out after a grueling match, Kaiser sprawled on the bench, shirt off, absolutely done—but watching you. As always.

You were checking gear, murmuring thanks to a junior staff member, and then—you turned slightly, eyes crinkling, lips curling—

And smiled.

Kaiser actually dropped the energy drink he was holding.

It was blinding. Soft and rare, like a dawn over war-torn fields. Your entire face lit up—calm, warm, kind. Not sarcastic. Not forced. Real.

It wasn’t even aimed at him, which made it worse.

“Who the hell was that for?” he demanded, walking up to you like a man betrayed.

“Huh?”

“That smile. The one that looked like it could end wars.”

You blinked at him, back to your usual deadpan expression. “You want one?”

He opened his mouth.

Paused.

“…Yes.”

You tilted your head. And slowly, like the sun peeking from behind storm clouds, you smiled again—just a little. At him.

Kaiser’s ears went red.

“I—uh. Okay. That’s illegal,” he muttered, pointing at you like you were a loaded weapon. “I’m gonna sue. Emotional damage.”

You were already walking away.

“Then stop acting like a victim.”

His heart actually did a backflip.

“…I’m gonna marry you,” he whispered under his breath.

Kunigami rensuke

Kunigami never minded blunt people. In fact, he appreciated them. It was better than the fake smiles and flattery he sometimes got from media staff or fans. But you? You took blunt to a new level.

“You look tired,” he said one morning, wiping sweat from his forehead, trying to make small talk during drills.

“I am tired. You guys don’t clean up your trash and I’m not your mother.”

“…Right.”

Still, he liked talking to you. He liked how steady you were, how nothing ruffled you—not the pressure, not the chaos, not even Kaiser being a diva. And when you did speak, it was short, snappy, and always honest. Refreshing.

But no one had ever seen you smile.

Not once.

Until that late night at the training camp, when everyone else had cleared out. Kunigami had stayed behind, double-checking his gear. You were near the bench, organizing towels and muttering about how someone left their socks inside-out.

He looked up from lacing his shoes—and there it was.

Your laugh. Soft. Sudden.

Someone had texted you, maybe. Or maybe something genuinely made you happy for once. Either way, your lips curled up and your eyes lit from within. It was quiet, gentle, and lasted all of three seconds.

But it knocked the breath out of him.

“…You smiled,” he said, almost in awe.

You turned, expression returning to normal. “Yeah. I do that sometimes. I’m not a robot.”

“I thought you were. Or like—part ghost.”

You gave him a long stare, and he realized too late how stupid that sounded. But then—

You smiled again. Just a little. Just at him.

Warm, unguarded.

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Kunigami.”

He coughed into his fist, ears going hot. “Y-Yeah? Well—cool. Thanks. I think.”

You chuckled—low and genuine—and went back to folding towels.

He stood there a moment longer, staring like a man hit by divine revelation.

God help him, he wanted to see that smile again. Every day. Forever.

Tomorrow, he decided, he was getting up early. Earlier than usual. Maybe you’d smile at him again.

Maybe, if he was lucky, you already liked him a little.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

Sae itoshi

Sae didn’t pay attention to most people. He had no reason to. Most were too loud, too fake, too eager to get in his space for the wrong reasons.

But you were different.

You were quiet. Not shy—just observant. Efficient. When someone forgot a jersey, you had a spare ready before they noticed. When the coaching staff missed a scheduling error, you were already fixing it. You rarely spoke unless necessary, but when you did, your voice was calm. Unshaken.

And your blunt honesty?

He respected it.

“You looked bored out there,” you told him one day after practice.

“I was.”

“I could tell. But if you're going to half-ass it, at least make it look convincing.”

He’d blinked. Once. Then laughed under his breath.

After that, he paid more attention to you.

You never hovered. Never smiled for no reason. You just worked—always a step ahead of the team, always unbothered by chaos. But you had this quiet way of looking out for people. You noticed when someone was limping and handed them an ice pack without a word. You stood in front of rookies when reporters got too pushy.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud.

But it was kind.

One day, he stayed behind after drills. Not for any real reason—just sat on the bench, watching the sky go soft with sunset. You were nearby, cleaning up the med kit, checking supplies.

“You always work this late?”

You didn’t look up. “Someone has to.”

“…You like this job?”

You paused, then glanced at him.

“I like helping people who don’t expect to be helped.”

He looked at you properly then. Not just the usual glance—really looked. You weren’t just efficient. You cared. In that quiet, unnoticed kind of way most people overlooked.

Then, for the first time, he saw it.

You smiled.

It was small. Barely there. But warm. Real. The kind of smile that slipped out when you weren’t thinking too hard. The kind that made your eyes soften, just a bit.

Sae didn’t react outwardly, but something in him stilled.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” he said.

You blinked. “…Probably.”

“You should do it more.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched again, like you were holding back another one.

“Then try being less boring.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll work on it.”

And he did.

Not for the cameras. Not for his reputation.

Just maybe—for you.

Barou

Barou didn’t like being managed. Or ordered. Or reminded to hydrate like he was a child.

But you didn’t treat him like that.

You were quiet, direct, and didn’t waste time. If he forgot to stretch, you’d just say, “Your hamstring’s gonna snap,” and toss him a band. If he got too heated during practice, you handed him a towel and said, “Chill. You’re scaring the interns.”

You didn’t hover or nag. You weren’t afraid of his temper, either. You were… calm. Unfazed. Like you’d seen worse than a guy yelling about meat buns and “kingly” training schedules.

He respected that.

One day, after a particularly frustrating scrimmage, he kicked a cone halfway across the field and stormed off. The team gave him space. So did the coaches.

But not you.

You followed him to the locker room, carrying a wrapped rice ball.

“You didn’t eat,” you said, holding it out like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I’m not hungry,” he growled.

“Then be angry with a full stomach.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. You weren’t sarcastic. You weren’t mocking him. Just… offering him food, like it was obvious. Like of course you cared, even if you barely spoke half the day.

He snatched it from your hand, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t look away.

And then—he saw it.

You smiled.

Soft. Barely there. But it hit like a punch to the chest.

Not because it was perfect or dazzling. But because it wasn’t. It was quiet. Warm. Like it wasn’t meant to be seen. Like it slipped out because, maybe, you cared more than you let on.

“You’re not as scary when you smile,” you said, tone casual.

Barou blinked. Scowled. Looked away too fast.

“Tch. Don’t say weird stuff.”

You turned to leave.

He glanced back at the rice ball in his hand. Then at your back.

“…Thanks,” he muttered.

You didn’t stop walking, but your voice carried:

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”

#blue lock #bllk #bllk fluff #barou shouei #bllk barou #barou x reader #blue lock barou #barou shoei x reader #sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #itoshi sae #blue lock sae #kunigami rensuke #bllk kunigami #blue lock kunigami #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you

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aewon · 5 months ago

Text

the shift

jungwon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!!!! wc: 3593 warnings: e2l kinda, ice hockey player jungwon (just mentioned), manager reader, mentioned other members, mentioned chaewon( she’s my go to clearly lol), jungwon’s just annoying to reader, virgin reader, dick sucking, pussy eating, multiple orgasms (2 each), fingering, flirty jungwon, cursing obv, if there’s anything else lmk

note: this is a rewrite of a fic that i had on @/wonkizz, it’s not great but it’s better than what i had og so :p the smut isn’t great but oh well also not proofread so

The university’s ice hockey team was golden, and it was all thanks to Yang Jungwon.

The team’s captain had spent long hours training to make sure the team was efficient in every category.

And now, their hard work paid off as they had landed a spot in nationals against one of the hardest teams to beat.

They’re not worried, they know the team is good, but they’re better.

Normally, you’d praise a team for being confident in their skills, but you think they’re just damn cocky.

It’s even worse considering the fact that Jungwon has taken an unknown liking to you, the team's manager.

Why are you their manager? Because you needed the credit for a class and it was the only thing available.

Back to Jungwon.

The guy is infuriating. He flirts with you constantly, teasing you and messing with you. It’s annoying and no matter how much you tell him to stop, he never does.

With the amount the two of you bicker back and forth, you’re surprised you haven’t been fired yet.

Now, in terms of nationals, it’s an away game, which means a trip to another state. As their manager, that means you have to go too.

You curse every being out there at the fact that you have to go, but what can you do?

It’s 6:00 am when you arrive at the meet up spot on campus. Coach Shin, the head (and only) coach, is already there with the small bus set up for you and the team to take.

The boys aren’t here yet, no surprise there. They always like to be late, for whatever god given reason they have.

“Those boys, I swear they give me a headache every single fucking day,” Coach Shin complains. You can only nod along with his sentiment, scrolling your phone with no real purpose.

6:15 rolls around and oh thank heavens! Here they come in Jay’s beat up car that he loves to call his baby regardless of its status.

Jungwon doesn’t waste a moment, coming to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Did you sleep well, pretty?”

You push his side, trying and failing to get him off you.

“No, unfortunately I didn’t. But I’ll be taking the chance to catch up on my sleep on the bus.”

“Oh?” He inquires, “And what exactly made it not so good? Did something keep you up? Or…someone?”

You push him harder, scowling as he laughs at your face.

Although you finally managed to free yourself from him, the thought of being stuck on a bus with him for 6 hours does not please you.

Coach Shin gathers everyone on the bus, choosing to sit near the front while the boys sit in the back.

You put in your headphones, playing your music on low while the bus departs.

As you leave campus, and eventually your town, your eyes begin to flutter.

They eventually shut and you fall asleep.

When you awaken, your head isn’t resting on the window like it was when you left. Instead, it’s resting against something softer, something moving.

You open your eyes, looking up to see Jungwon’s face centimeters from yours.

You shoot up, realizing your head was resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep well?” He asks, scrolling through his phone like nothing.

“Why are you here?” You ask, trying to create space between your bodies but failing miserably.

“You looked lonely, so I decided to keep you company.”

“Well I wasn’t, if anything you interrupted me.”

Jungwon pouts mockingly, “That’s not very nice. I tried to be kind and this is how I’m repaid?”

“And how exactly do you want to be repaid?”

He takes the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist, squeezing your side, “I could think of one way.”

You grab his arm, gripping his wrist tightly and taking it off you, “As if!”

The whole team begins to laugh at your expense.

You sit there, planning on how to kill Jungwon in your head while he goes back to his original seat, smirking.

You look down at your phone, realizing 4 hours have passed. You sigh in relief, only 2 more hours to go.

Those 2 hours pass somewhat quickly, and you’re parking at your hotel before you know it.

As you get off the bus and gather your things, the sun shines down on you.

It’s blue skies and sunshine in this state, and you wish for nothing more than time to relax.

Coach Shin gathers you all in the hotel lobby, checking in and handing you room keys.

“Naturally you’re all paired with someone, except Y/N.”

“Don’t tell me she gets a room to herself,” Heeseung complains, making the others start to complain as well.

Coach Shin raises his hand, “Don’t start! Of course she has a room to herself, idiots!”

The boys grumble on their way up to the hotel floor.

You check into your room, throwing your bag on the small couch and sitting on the bed eagerly.

You pull out your phone, texting your friend Chaewon.

You: we just checked in :p

Chae 🐯: has jungwon annoyed you much?

You: of course he has but it’s whatever ig 🤥

Chae 🐯: yall gotta like…fuck it out or smth atp

You: EW no why would i do that

Chae 🐯: because the tension is crazy!!!

You: the tension is made up in your head 🙂‍↕️

Chae 🐯: WHATEVER what are you gonna do now

You: i think we’re getting lunch or smth and then idk

Chae 🐯: well keep me updated

You: yeah yeah 😑

You turn off your phone just as there’s a knock on your door.

Coach Shin stands there, “We’re headed to lunch, are you ready?”

You grab your purse with your hotel key, wallet and phone.

“Yes, let’s go!”

The boys are already waiting by the elevator for you, and you all cram inside and head downstairs to the dining hall.

Once seated, you order fettuccine with shrimp scampi while everyone else gets some sort of beef or chicken. They’re all protein freaks, always talking about getting in more of it everyday.

Lunch goes by with little to no conversation between you and any of the boys, no surprise there.

Although you do make conversation with Coach Shin about nationals and how the boys need to play if they want to win.

Not that it really interests you.

You couldn’t care less if they win or lose.

Everyone is given time off to do whatever they want once lunch is over.

You choose to head to the hotel pool to finally relax, and maybe even tan a little.

You put on your bathing suit, and head to the pool with the same purse you brought to lunch.

Surprisingly, there’s no one around.

You sit back on your towel and relax, letting yourself soak up the sun that beats down on you.

But of course, you can never have anything to yourself.

Within 15 minutes of your relaxation, you hear an agitating noise come from the entrance by the pool.

You look up and see the boys, all in their swimsuits, heading your way.

You groan, “Oh Jesus Christ! Can’t a woman get one fucking minute of peace!”

They all look at you, grinning mischievously. They know! They know damn well!

“You don’t own the pool,” Sunghoon says knowingly.

“No shit I don’t own the pool, but you knew I’d be down here to relax and now I can’t!”

“We’ll be quiet, swear,” Jake says, crossing his fingers over his heart.

You sigh, laying your head back down, trying to get back into your relaxation mode.

That was a damn lie.

Within 5, no! 4 minutes, they’re making noise. So much noise it could wake up the dead. Splashing, yelling, cursing, you name it they’re doing it!

Nobody else seems to be bothered because no one comes out to tell them to shut up, so it’s just you and them. Them, overjoyed and you, annoyed.

You want to bang your head against the nearest wall when you hear Jungwon’s voice call out to you, “How’d you know blue’s my favorite color?” He asks, referring to your bathing suit.

“I didn’t,” you respond. “I didn’t wear this for you!”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, “If you say so. You should come in, the water feels great.”

You look down at the blue water, and back up at him repeatedly. “I’d rather not, it looks cold.”

“Oh come on,” he whines, “it’s not! See for yourself.” With that, he sends a big splash your way, dousing the bottom of your legs with water.

You curse at the cold temperature, Jungwon now laughing hysterically along with the other guys.

You get up before you know it, and send a big splash that douses the entirety of them in one sitting.

They all look at you in shock, Jungwon especially as if he isn’t the one who started it.

“No fair! I didn’t wanna get my hair wet,” Sunghoon complains.

“Well that’s too bad now isn’t it,” you retort, hands on your hips.

Before you can say anything further, Jungwon is out of the pool, lifting you up in his arms.

You didn’t realize how strong or broad he is.

As your hands find his shoulders to hold onto, you begin to panic, “What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Nope, now you’ve done it,” Jungwon says smiling, and then without another word he throws you into the pool.

You hit the water with a big splash, the boys all cheering as you’re now just as soaked as them.

You come up, looking at Jungwon in pure shock and somewhat horror.

“You…you’re so dead!”

Jungwon shrugs, “Guess I’m dead then.”

You spend the next half hour playing with the boys in the pool.

By the time you get back to your room, you’ve tired yourself out.

After showering and changing, you take a long nap.

Once you awaken, the clock next to you reads 7:00 pm.

You order dinner for yourself and eat while watching the latest show on Netflix.

By 7:30 you’ve finished your meal and are relaxing when there’s a knock at your door.

Jungwon stands there, freshly showered too.

“Hi,” he says, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

“Hey, do you need something?”

“I wanted to talk, if that’s alright?”

You step aside, letting him in, “Sure, what about?”

“Us,” he says.

You stand there confused as he sits on the edge of your bed.

“What about us?” You ask.

“I felt like there was a shift today, when we were having fun earlier. It felt…different. Having fun with you instead of arguing with you. It was nice.”

“I agree, it was nice Jungwon. I liked seeing that side of you that doesn’t constantly annoy me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but it does.

But instead of looking hurt or offended, Jungwon just smirks, “But do you realize why I annoy you?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I like you, stupid.”

You take a second to take in those words. I…like…you? He likes you?

“You mean like, romantically?”

“Yes Y/N, romantically.” He chuckles, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

You stand there, not knowing what to do.

“Why…why do you like me?”

Jungwon seems caught off guard by that question.

He thinks for a minute before answering,

“I like how passionate you are with everything you do. Even with hockey, we know you don’t really like it but you still do your best as our manager regardless. I like your laugh and your smile, even when they’re not directed at me. I like how clumsy you are sometimes. I like how your tongue sticks out when you’re concentrating on something. I like everything about you, Y/N.”

You feel your heart beat faster as Jungwon speaks, taking in his words and his feelings with care and kindness rather than disgust or disdain.

“Jungwon, I didn’t know you really felt that way.”

“I don’t expect you to feel the same. I just wanted you to know. And I thought maybe, maybe we could try something. I could take you out? See how you feel about that?”

You don’t know what switch inside you went off, but the thought of a date with Jungwon, after today’s events, doesn’t seem so bad.

“I’d actually like that. I’d like that a lot.”

He perks up and it’s oh so cute.

You finally find the courage to sit next to him on the bed, brushing your hand against his.

He looks into your eyes, for any signs of discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any, he leans in, pressing a delicate kiss against your lips.

It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s breathtaking nonetheless.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

He does as he’s told, pressing his lips against yours harder this time.

You reciprocate the kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, your hands finding the base of his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of it.

Your lips move in sync, creating more passion as it goes.

Jungwon moves, his hand that was resting on the bed comes forward to rest on your waist.

His tongue presses against your lips and you open your mouth, giving him access.

Your tongues move together, the kiss becoming more and more heated as time goes on.

Jungwon’s hand comes to rest on your arm, lightly pushing you down so you're resting on the bed, his frame coming to hover over you.

You separate, lightly gasping for air as you look into each other’s eyes.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” Jungwon says, practically pleading.

“I want this, Jungwon. I want you.”

Jungwon dives back in, trailing kisses down the front of your neck, to the exposed part of your chest.

His fingers find the hem of your shirt, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

He pulls it up, over your head.

His large hands find your breasts immediately.

His fingers tug and twist your nipples, making your back arch up off the bed.

He leans down, taking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it as you moan in pleasure.

“Fuck Jungwon, that feels…” you trail off, not able to finish your sentence as he switches to the other nipple.

He trails kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts.

“Wait,” you say, and Jungwon stops immediately.

“What is it? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I just… I wanna take care of you first.”

“Y/N you don’t have to—”

“But I want to. Although, I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to guide me.”

“You’re a virgin?”

You nod, taking your lip between your teeth.

“That’s okay, pretty, I’ll guide you.”

Jungwon gets up and takes his own shirt off, revealing what you saw earlier but weren’t paying attention to.

His broad shoulders, toned chest and lean torso.

You could drool, he’s so your type.

Your attention is taken by him shrugging his pants and boxers down.

You get down on the carpet in front of him, anticipating.

His cock is already hard. It stands at attention, long and girthy but not too much.

You have to admit, you’ve done some research online in anticipation of this moment. You just hope you don’t fuck it up.

You spit into your hand, lathering it on his cock, listening to him hiss as your cold hand meets the warmth of his skin.

The tip is blaring red, evident of how much he wants this.

You stroke him a few times, just to start.

Then, you slowly take him into your mouth, starting just with the head.

You suck on it, tasting the precum he’s been leaking.

Then you take more of him into your mouth, avoiding your teeth as much as you can.

“God, it seems like you already know what you’re doing, where’d that come from huh?” You know he’s teasing but you feel a responsibility to answer genuinely.

You pull off of him slowly, “I may have done some research about this kind of thing before.”

You smile up at him, watching as his mouth opens in slight shock.

“Ah, so my pretty girl isn’t as innocent as she looks?”

His hand comes up to grab the back of your head, not forcing you but simply as a guide.

You take him back into your mouth, holding what won’t fit in your mouth.

You begin to bob your head, stroking what doesn’t fit.

You think you’re doing a good job, if Jungwon’s moans mean anything.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he says.

You use the hand that’s stroking him and twist it slightly as you go, creating a solid rhythm.

The sounds of you sucking his cock turn him on so much, he thinks he could cum from that alone, but that plus the pleasure he’s feeling being Jungwon closer to orgasm than he’d like to admit.

Within just a few minutes, he’s close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, pretty. Where do you want it?”

You pull off slightly but keep the tip in your mouth, sucking on it, indicating you want him to cum in your mouth.

Jungwon thinks he’s a goner, as he cums in your mouth, painting your throat white while he moans loudly.

As he comes down from his high, panting softly, he helps you up from the floor, before turning you around and pushing you back against the bed.

“It’s my turn to please you.”

As you sit up against the pillows, his fingers find the waistband of your shorts, “Can I take these off?”

You nod, watching as his eyes come in contact with your bare pussy.

“No underwear? Naughty girl.”

You’re already soaking wet, your arousal painting your folds and making them glisten in the dim lighting of the room.

“Fuck, you look so pretty. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, baby,” Jungwon says, taking a gentle finger and rubbing it against your folds.

You jerk at the contact, whining as his fingers slide through them.

“Are you gonna make me feel good, Wonnie?”

He groans at the cute nickname, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

With that, he leans down, taking your clit directly into his mouth.

You gasp, arching off the bed as Jungwon sucks on it.

His fingers play with your folds as his tongue swirls around your clit, playing with it.

“Oh my god, Jungwon!”

Fingers soaked in your arousal, he slowly eases one finger inside you, being as gentle as he can.

You whimper at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt but it’s uncomfortable.

“I know pretty, I know,” he comforts you, thumb rubbing your clit making you feel just as much pleasure.

He goes back to sucking on it, tongue gathering all your slick and swallowing it eagerly.

“You taste so good, I’ll get addicted.”

He slowly thrusts and curls that finger inside you, the uncomfortable feeling being replaced by pleasure.

Your moans fill the room, your hands coming up to grip Jungwon’s hair.

“That’s right baby, hold onto me,” he says, encouraging you.

As he sucks on your clit, he inserts another finger, curling them repeatedly, stretching you open.

Minutes pass and you can feel the band in your stomach tighten, “I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, fuck!”

“Cum for me, pretty,” he says, as you cum all over his tongue and fingers.

He takes it all in, swallowing your release and watching in amazement as it coats his fingers, more and more spilling out.

He leans forward, lips meeting yours as you taste yourself on him.

“You ready for my cock?” He asks and you nod, spreading your legs further.

He runs his cock up and down your pussy, coating it in your release, before slowly pushing inside you.

Your breathing gets slightly heavier at the feeling of fullness, but it’s a good feeling.

He pauses, giving you all the time you need to adjust.

After a minute, you tell him to move and he wastes no time in thrusting into you at a rhythmic pace.

Your mouth is permanently forced open at the feeling of his thrusts.

The power and precision is just right, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Fuck Jungwon, it feels so good,” you whine, hands gripping his biceps.

“That’s all I could ask for, pretty girl.”

You feel him so deep inside you, it’s mad. It feels so good, something you’ve never felt, nor do you want to feel this with anyone else.

“Fucking me so good, god I love it.”

“Yeah, you love this cock?”

“Fuck yes, I love it!”

His thumb comes to rest on your clit, rubbing deep circles on it, causing you to moan even louder, until you’re practically screaming his name.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna cum Jungwon please don’t stop!”

“Me too, fuck where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside please, I want it so badly.”

He groans into the side of your neck, leaving featherlight kisses against it.

His thrusts become erratic, hitting places so deep, you didn’t know they existed.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whine, releasing all over Jungwon’s cock as he does the same inside you.

Both of you ride out your highs on his slowing thrusts, until he eventually comes to a stop.

As you look into each other's eyes, Jungwon can’t help but smile, “So, about that date.”

AEWON 2025

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guardianlegends64 · 4 months ago

Text

[Closed RP] Alternative Love Life Universe Of Dragon Ball in “The Forgotten Saiyan and The Mountainous love”

[Note: This is an Alternative Love Life Universe of Dragon Ball which includes Romance and Vulgar Language even some Music ]

In the morning of Peaceful and Silent Earth also the End of May and the beginning of Summer and June Four Adult men were Sparring and relaxing right near a Mountain as one was being silent and sitting near a Tree playing with birds and butterflies and even a deer as the other was waiting patiently for his turn in sparring and two were Already sparring but these weren’t normal men they were called “Saiyans”…

One Of the Saiyans whose name is Vegeta also known as Prince Vegeta as he was the one who was sparring with the Second Saiyan who is Goku and The Third Saiyan is Trunks awaiting his turn while the fourth is Broly the Bulkier but also the One who likes to stay calm in most of the day and eating all sorts of food…

Vegeta was being annoyed that Broly isn’t Attempting in sparring as Goku knows that Broly will get his turn whenever or whoever wins the sparring match…

The Four were Sparring at a Peaceful and far away location that is far from a City and also has a giant mountain as The Four also were sparring and Practicing there was a Female Kitsune watching on how they Practice and train and fight…

Back a Few years ago The Four saiyans found the Female Kitsune Hiding and Scared of being captured by Human Hunters but the Four saiyans helped and saved the female Kitsune and by time the Four Saiyans Had grown a Powerful bond for the female Kitsune….

Now in the current day The Four saiyans are now Practicing and Training and Sparring for the Worst to come..

“Vegeta: Kakarot! You’re wasting and stalling for Time!”

“Goku: Oh Come On Vegeta! It’s so nice outside today!”

“Trunks: He’s telling the truth father it’s a peaceful day right now”

“Vegeta: Do I Look Like I Care? Kakarot finish the Training or we won’t proceed!

“Goku: Ugh Fine!”

The Two then continued to train and sparring each other and at the end Vegeta Had Lost

“Goku: Work on that Ki Efficiency Vegeta it’ll make things easier”

Then when Vegeta was about to angrily talk back there was some sort of Fire ball that looked like a Meteor but the size was abnormal and the color was Not Normal either as it crashed against the mountain forming a crater as The Four checked it out and then they were shocked to see that it wasn’t a Meteor but an Individual that was falling from the sky…

When the Four arrived they noticed that their kitsune found the individual first and who had crashed landed on the mountain and created a ginormous Crater also made an Supernova alarming Noise that no one can hear because it had already Began when the individual crashed as it spreads far away from the reaches of Space…

Vegeta was Utterly confused and Silent as the others were shocked and surprised as the female Kitsune the one that they rescued and saved checks out the individual as the four were very hesitant to let her check the individual who crashed into the mountain…

The Individual is an Adult male and his Appearance is White Straight Hair that’s Dirty at the Moment, Incredible physique, and the Individual’s Height was tall even taller than Broly as the Individual then tries to get up and walk but was too Dizzy and wobbly and also Fatigued and A completely confused as he only muttered a few words…

“W-Who… Where… Am … I……?”

The Individual said softly and weakly as he then Fainted and fell on the female Kitsune in her hands by exhaustion and the impact from the crash and something else… as the Female Kitsune Spoke and said…

#dragon ball #alternative universe #Alternative Life #dante infinite #romance #drama

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lvrpiastri · 2 months ago

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BED CHEM ; IH6.

synopsis: A fic about Isack Hadjar and his girlfriend, Y/N L/N, who decides to ask him about his opinion on threesomes. 1.0k words.

trigger warnings: Use of Y/N; Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Mentions of threesomes; Use of swear words in English and French; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks

a message from the author: This is spicier than my previous fics have been; however, I do not write smut. It’s not something I’m comfortable with. Therefore, this fic does involve a sex-related topic, but it is just the discussion surrounding it. No smut is found in here. There are other authors on Tumblr that write it, and I respect them for being able to do so, but I will not be one of them. Thank you!

If there was one fun fact about yourself that you wished you could broadcast to the world without fear of retribution, it would be that you loved to cuddle with your boyfriend. Isack was a little bit shorter than you were — something he would never admit to — but he was the best big spoon you could ask for. He was like an athletic teddy bear with a penchant for swearing colorfully in French.

You rubbed your eyes, tossing fitfully in the bed you shared with your boyfriend, who was diligently studying the next lip sync video that VCARB wanted him to complete. A frustrated groan escaped your lips as you attempted to find another comfortable position and nearly elbowed Isack in his stomach.

Though the bed was comfortably large, Isack had a tendency to stretch out like a starfish, legs and arms splaying out everywhere, even in your portion of the bed. Amused, you poked at his muscled thigh under the blanket, waiting to see his reaction. He looked up from his phone, pausing the video so he wouldn’t lose his place.

“Yes?” Isack asked, quirking one eyebrow. He wasn’t annoyed, just confused. “Is everything OK, Y/N?”

You shook your head, forcing back a grin as you flopped over on your side. “I’m fine. Go back to memorizing your terribly important overused TikTok audio.”

“Ma chérie, I would be extremely foolish if I trusted you right now. I can tell you’re lying.” Isack put his phone down on the nightstand, tugging you closer to him. His body heat billowed out, making you feel like you were melting inside a sauna. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m being serious.” You stuck your tongue out, making him roll his eyes and playfully flick you on your nose. It was a habit of his; he claimed it was something his father used to do to him, and he liked sharing it with you. “There’s nothing wrong, Isack, I swear. Don’t pay attention to me.”

Isack huffed, suddenly caging you in with his strong biceps. He didn’t apply much pressure, but the air was still choked out of your lungs because of how surprised you were. All those hours at the gym lifting weights had not been useless, you thought happily. You quite liked his biceps; they were squishy but firm, and — holy shit, you were going crazy. Apparently you had less oxygen in your lungs than you thought. “I won’t let go until you tell me.” Isack informed you, adjusting his position so it was more efficient at making you surrender. “Now will you listen to me and tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been flipping around as if you are a dead fish for over an hour now.”

You scrabbled at his arms, but he was telling the truth; his grip on you was too secure. “What’s your opinion on threesomes?” you blurted out a moment later when you realized escape was futile. Embarrassment and regret immediately washed over you, especially since you knew what expressions he must be making. The fact that you could not see Isack’s face was inconsequential.

Confusion. Then horror. A beat passed, then two, as Isack tried to make sense of what you had asked.

“Q…Quoi? Am I doing something wrong?” Isack loosened his vise on you, allowing you to wiggle out and finally breathe unrestrictedly. “Why are you mentioning this to me? Did last night not satisfy you?”

“It did! I’m not…You’re more than fine, I just…” You trailed off, waiting for air to refill your lungs. “I wanted to know your thoughts.”

Isack bit his lip, his tooth peeking out. “Am I not pleasuring you well when we…?” He implored you with wide brown eyes, a moment away from breaking into tears. The sight made your heart crumble. Oh God, forgive me for making Isack upset, you bemoaned internally. “I thought you were happy with me. I didn’t know you weren’t, and I’m sorry for not paying enough attention to you to realize. Je suis désolé.”

You bolted up, almost breaking Isack’s nose in the process, and winced. “Oh. My. God. Isack. I am! I am happy with you! It was just a question! Why would you think I wasn’t happy with you?”

“Are you sure?” Isack was still worried. “If you need someone else to pleasure you, then I am not doing my job right. Why are you asking if this is not true?”

You palmed your forehead. “I’m more than satisfied! I swear on my soul — if I have one, which I do —, I very much do not want a threesome.” Your nose crinkled as you imagined how it would play out. Isack would be possessive, and rightfully so. And whoever the other man was? He wouldn’t be half as good as your boyfriend was. “Other men are disgusting, and I don’t know any women who would want to join in.”

Isack scoffed. “Men are disgusting? Merci beaucoup, Y/N.”

“I said, ‘other men’! You’re actually pretty hygienic,” you retorted defensively. “I only brought this up because the book I’m reading…It has a threesome in it. I thought it was really sexy. Also, you’re French, and a ménage à trois is as French as croissants or the Eiffel Tower.” And you were curious to see what his perspective was, but it was not going well!

“Well,” Isack blew out a breath, pondering. “It’s fine for other people, I guess. They can do what they want. I am not involved; it is their business to deal with. But I’m not interested in that for me. For us. You’re everything I need, and anyways, I don’t want to share you. Je t’aime absolument putain, OK?”

You kissed him on his forehead. “I understand, Isack. I love you too, and I hope you know I was not asking for one.”

“Good.” Isack touched your chin, his eyes searching yours. “Now can I get back to that video, or are you going to ask me any more questions?”

Credits: Dividers — @dollywons

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #isack hadjar #ih6 #isack hadjar x reader #f1blr #f1 fics #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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cavegirlpoems · 11 months ago

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A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

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deprivedreality · 8 months ago

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𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝘿𝙔𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏?!

Word Count: 1.2k

Content contains: pro-hero bakugo being a career man. mentions of katsuki having an s/o! I hope these ideas capture his fiery, no-nonsense personality while also showing how much he’s grown into a reliable and inspiring hero.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who when every time someone mispronounces his hero name, he snaps and shouts “It’s DY-NA-MIGHT, not ‘Dynamo’ or whatever crap you just said! Learn how to read, damn it!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a rigorous training schedule. Yes, cooking breakfast and cuddle time with his s/o is part of that schedule nevertheless. Even as a pro, Bakugo starts his day with a 5:00 a.m. workout. His mornings include explosive quirk drills, which terrify his neighbors, but he refuses to apologize because, “Heroes don’t take days off, morons.” He does try to keep it down a notch when he heard through his neighbors' kid that they were thinking about moving houses.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who insists on being on the frontlines for every mission, no matter the scale. He’s the first to charge in during a disaster and won’t leave until every civilian is accounted for. “If I’m not giving 100%, why the hell am I here?” And you better know that everyone appreciated him for his selfless actions.

Prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is efficient to a fault. His rescue operations are insanely effective but intimidating. He’ll shout at panicked civilians to “Move your asses, idiot!” but then carry them out of danger with precision and speed. Later, when they thank him, he awkwardly mutters, “Yeah, whatever. That's what I'm here for anyway. Just don’t get stuck again.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a signature explosion mark. After saving the day, he always leaves behind a controlled, smoky explosion shaped like his logo—an orange starburst with jagged edges. Kids love it and call it his “hero stamp.” He just did it one time because y/n liked the idea of him having something like a bat-signal, it became like a routine for him.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's surprisingly good with kids. He didn’t expect it either, but kids adore him. When they swarm him for autographs, he grumbles, “You better not smudge this!” but secretly loves the attention. He even kneels down to their level so they can high-five him. It did took him time to warm up to them after some thought, he wanted to be like how All Might was when he was a kid.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is strict with his sidekicks. Bakugo’s sidekicks are the most well-trained in the industry because he pushes them relentlessly. He shouts, “If you can’t handle this, you’re wasting my damn time!” but always ensures they’re prepared for real missions.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who still has an unspoken rivalry with Deku, and everyone in general, but now it’s about who saves more people. Bakugo keeps a tally and texts deku, “Took down 8 villains today. What’s your number, nerd?”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who personally oversees every modification to his hero costume, from grenade gauntlets to lightweight boots. If the support team messes up, he’ll fix it himself, muttering, “If you can't do it right, I'll do it myself.” This causes his support team to work twice harder next time.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has workaholic tendencies. He rarely takes time off, claiming, “Villains don’t go on vacation, so why should I?” His s/o and his entire agency forces him to relax. Needless to say, his s/o alone can convince him. Even then, he’s still scanning news reports for emergencies.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an emergency quirk strategist. Bakugo has a knack for coming up with split-second strategies in the middle of chaos. He’ll bark orders to other heroes, and while they’re annoyed at his tone, they follow him because he’s always right. Other heroes learned it the hard way one time when they didn't follow his 'suggestion' and ended up making the situation worse.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who gets tons of fan letters and gets flustered reading them. One of his fellow heroes suggested for him to buy a shredder, but you know damn well he flipped them off. He gets tons of fan mail, but he has no idea how to respond. He also did not know what to do with them until his s/o opted to help him with this problem. Sometimes he’ll scribble a quick “Thanks” with a little explosion doodle and hope it’s enough, his s/o would be the one to arrange and mail them.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is devoted to his parents. Bakugo visits his parents regularly, bringing them little gifts like flowers for his mom (which she teases him about) and bunch of snacks and clothing pieces for his dad. He even helps fix things around their house during his rare free time. He makes sure his sidekicks and secretary knows when to remind him to call them during breaks.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has is looked up to by other pros for his emergency evacuation drills. When Bakugo’s agency holds safety drills, his team wins every time. He calls it “real hero training” and will go all-out to make sure everyone’s prepared.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who was invited one time to attend a charity by ochako and it became something he does everytime. While he’s not a fan of public speaking, Bakugo attends charity events because he believes in helping beyond hero work. He’ll reluctantly auction off items like “Bakugo’s autographed gauntlet,” secretly donating extra money because “those kids need it more.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an incredible loyal team leader. Bakugo might be tough on his team, but he’s fiercely protective of them. He is especially protective of his interns, some of them referring to him as the older brother they never had. If a villain hurts one of his sidekicks, you better know he’ll go all-out to take them down while yelling, “You don’t touch my people!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who built his own agency to be one of the best heor agency headquarter there is. His agency is a sleek, well-organized base equipped with cutting-edge tech and a training ground. The office is always clean because he enforces “No slacking off!” rules, even for janitorial staff. In his hq, he made sure that there is one room dedicated for his s/o.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who became an unintentional role model. Despite his rough personality, students and new heroes look up to Bakugo because of his dedication and success. He doesn’t know how to handle compliments and usually responds with, “Stop wasting time and go do your damn job!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who mastered using small, precise explosions for rescues—blasting through rubble without causing harm or creating paths for civilians. It’s become his trademark move, and no one does it better.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's explosive personality makes him a media favorite, but he hates interviews. When forced to participate, he answers in blunt one-liners like, “Villains suck, so don’t do crime.” Although he did receive criticism at the start of hero career because of his brash attitude, but that's all.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who knows how to separate his personal life from his career so well that some fans were surprised when he revealed in an interview that he was already married. He proudly showed off his wedding band, telling his interviewer that he was a happy married man.

#deprivedreality ─ blogs #deprivedreality ─ my hero academia #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo headcanons #prohero bakugo #my hero academia headcanons #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bnha #adult bakugo katsuki #dynamight

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2b4st4r · 29 days ago

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hiii gosh ur writing is even delicious then sanji’s cooking!!! if your not busy, can i req reader being annoyed with zoro’s smell? lol its just gonna seem funny and him trying to impress you, trying his best to smell good hahah the crew also shocked bcs zoro usually nonchalant but actually hes hiding smtg from you and the crew, something he denies but not sure but strong as ever, his feelings to the other swordsman in the ship which is reader <3

p/s : alsoo include sometimes when zoro is incredibly jealous of sanji always hanging out with reader bcs he smells better than him♥️

♥︎A Scent of Affection♡︎

₊˚⊹♡ Zoro x reader

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⏦ﾟ♡︎ Words: 7,074

⏦ﾟ♡︎ warnings: descriptive smell of oder, a tinny sexual joke(barely if you can call it that), minor conflict, gagging, teasing, angst if you squint. hinted f!reader!

₊˚⊹♡ A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading my work. I strive to make my writing engaging and heartfelt, so I hope I can achieve that with this piece as well! I know you didn't specifically request some of the elements I included, and I apologize for that, but I hope I was able to meet your requirements in at least some way. OH MY GOD I MESSED UP SM BECAUSE I READ THIS AT LIKE 1 AM AND I WROTE IT AROUND THEN TOO, i WAS SO TIRED I AM SO SORRY AND I HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT😭 ITS STILL A GOOD STORY I THINK I JUST DIDNT REALIZE YOU WANTED READER TO BE A SWORDSMAN AND THAT YOU WANTED HIM TO HIDE IT. OH MU GOD IM GENUINELY SO SORRY (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Grand Line, a fickle beast of an ocean, had nothing on the meticulous order you brought to the Straw Hat Pirates. As their quartermaster, you were the quiet anchor in a sea of charming chaos, a role Nami gratefully handed over the moment you stepped aboard. She swore she could finally breathe, no longer burdened by inventory lists and supply logs. You, on the other hand, thrived in it. Everything had its place, every coin was accounted for, and the Thousand Sunny ran like a well-oiled machine.

But while the ship hummed with efficiency, your heart beat in sync with a different rhythm – the steady, strong pulse of Roronoa Zoro. He was your constant, your anchor in the true sense of the word. You were rarely apart, a familiar shadow trailing his formidable presence. Training sessions were a symphony of steel and sweat, a dance you both knew intimately. Today, the clang of your cutlass meeting his Wado Ichimonji echoed across the deck, the sun glinting off your focused expressions. You parried, then spun, a swift kick landing against his side, earning a low chuckle from him. "Getting soft, swordsman?" you teased, a playful glint in your eye as he easily recovered.

Evenings were often spent sharing a bottle of sake under the vast, star-dusted sky. His arm would settle around your waist, pulling you close, and you'd rest your head against his shoulder, the rough fabric of his yukata a comforting presence. There was a quiet understanding between you, a silent language spoken in shared glances and the gentle brush of his fingers against yours. Navigation, a task that often befuddled the swordsman, became another excuse for your proximity. "No, you brute, the north is that way," you'd correct him with a laugh, guiding his hand on the map, your fingers tracing the swirling lines of the currents together.

Arguments? They were as rare as a calm day in the New World. You just... fit. Your personalities, so different on the surface, intertwined seamlessly. There was a mutual respect, an unspoken affection that made disagreements almost impossible. Almost.

Because there was one, singular, utterly perplexing flaw in the man you adored, a chink in his otherwise perfect armor: his hygiene, or rather, his alarming lack thereof. You knew pirates weren't exactly known for their fastidiousness. Most of the crew, frankly, smelled like an unholy concoction of sea salt, sweat, and various fermented goods. But Zoro… Zoro took it to an entirely new level. Sometimes, a pungent cloud seemed to precede him, a distinct aroma of stale sweat, damp clothes, and something vaguely metallic. You'd wince subtly when he leaned in close, the scent clinging to his skin, a stark contrast to the clean ocean breeze. It was a battle you waged almost daily, a silent plea for soap and water against the stubborn indifference of a man perfectly content to smell like he’d just wrestled a sea king and then rolled in a barrel of old fish.

You'd tried every subtle tactic in your arsenal. The nose scrunch became almost second nature whenever he invaded your personal space, a tiny, involuntary crinkle of disgust that you hoped he'd notice. You'd casually leave bars of fragranced soap on his makeshift bedside table, strategically placed so he couldn't possibly miss them. You even bought him a fancy new towel, plush and impossibly soft, hoping it might inspire a sudden desire for cleanliness.

"Hey, Zoro," you'd once said, your voice dripping with what you hoped was casual suggestion, "the water's nice and warm in the shower. You wanna... you know... save water?" You’d wiggled your eyebrows playfully, trying to make it sound like a seductive offer, not a desperate plea for him to wash off whatever unspeakable funk clung to him. He’d merely grunted, engrossed in polishing his swords, completely oblivious.

Another time, after a particularly sweaty training session, you’d practically draped yourself over him, feigning exhaustion. "Ugh, I'm so sticky," you'd groaned, making sure your nose was pressed firmly against his chest. You inhaled, deeply, and nearly gagged. "You know what sounds amazing right now? A long, hot shower." You'd looked up at him expectantly, your eyes wide and innocent. He’d just patted your head, oblivious to the deeper meaning. "Yeah, probably," he'd mumbled, before promptly flopping onto the deck for a nap, leaving you alone with the faint, lingering aroma of him.

You even resorted to the indirect approach. "Nami, don't you think it's a bit...ripe in here?" you'd asked loudly, knowing Zoro was within earshot, hoping a little social pressure might work. Nami, bless her heart, had just shrugged. "That's just Zoro, Y/N. You get used to it."

But you hadn't. You never did. And with every failed attempt, the tiny, almost insignificant flaw in your otherwise perfect swordsman grew into a colossal, aromatic wall between you.

Then came the day. It was after a particularly brutal island expedition, one where Zoro had reportedly wrestled a giant, mud-caked boar. He returned to the Sunny looking triumphant, but the air around him thickened with an odor so profoundly offensive it made your eyes water. It wasn’t just sweat or sea salt anymore; this was something primeval, a concoction of damp earth, stale blood, and the unmistakable, cloying sweetness of decay, as if death itself had taken up residence in his clothes. It clung to him like a second skin, a noxious aura that preceded him by several feet.

He approached you, a victorious grin on his face, clearly expecting his usual welcome. "We got enough meat to last a week!" he declared, leaning in for a kiss. You stiffened, your entire body recoiling almost imperceptibly. You managed a weak smile, turning your head just enough so his lips brushed your cheek instead of your mouth. "That's... great, Zoro," you mumbled, already inching away. He tried again later, reaching for your hand, but you suddenly found an urgent need to adjust the rigging. When he wrapped an arm around your waist while you were sorting supplies, you subtly tensed, feigning preoccupation. You just couldn't bring yourself to return his affection, not with that stench assaulting your senses.

The Quartermaster's office, usually your sanctuary, felt too small, too filled with the lingering echo of his presence. You needed an escape, a haven for your suffering nostrils. And that haven, ironically, was the one place Zoro actively avoided: the kitchen.

You found yourself gravitating towards the galley with increasing frequency, drawn by a scent so utterly, divinely opposite to Zoro’s current state. Stepping into Sanji’s domain was like entering a different dimension. It was a symphony of warm spices—cinnamon and nutmeg—mingling with the savory aroma of roasting meats, the sweet, comforting hint of baking bread, and the clean, bright scent of citrus and fresh herbs. Sanji, ever the gentleman, always smelled impeccably of a light, expensive cologne, mixed with faint undertones of his latest culinary masterpiece.

You’d linger by the counter, feigning interest in his cooking, inhaling deeply. "Sanji, what are you making? It smells incredible!" you'd exclaim, your voice perhaps a little too enthusiastic. He’d preen, of course, but you didn't care. Your nose was finally getting the reprieve it so desperately craved. You’d even found yourself engaging in longer conversations with the cook, something you rarely did before, just for the sheer relief of being in a fragrant, non-Zoro-scented environment. It was a strange sort of betrayal, spending so much time with the one person Zoro actively despised, but your nasal passages demanded it.

Your sensitive little nose just couldn't handle Zoro right now, so the entire day had been dedicated to a strategic avoidance maneuver, primarily involving Sanji and his aromatic kitchen. You'd helped him peel potatoes, chop vegetables, and even stirred a simmering stew, all while basking in the fragrant glory of the galley. Sanji, of course, was in his element, delighted by your prolonged presence. He'd even whipped up a special lemon tart just for you, which you ate slowly, savoring the citrusy tang that cut through the lingering phantom stench of Zoro.

As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows across the deck, you finally ventured out. The air felt cooler, and you hoped the sea breeze had worked its magic on Zoro. You spotted him immediately, perched on his usual spot on the railing, fast asleep. A soft smile touched your lips. He looked so peaceful when he wasn't radiating an invisible, odoriferous cloud. You crept closer, intending to gently wake him, maybe even steal a quick, cautious kiss.

But as you leaned in, the full force of it hit you. The smell hadn't dissipated; if anything, it had intensified, becoming more concentrated in the still evening air. It was a potent mix of stale sweat, the damp earth from the expedition, and a new, unsettling note of… something vaguely like unwashed dog and fermented algae. Your nose, already on high alert, simply couldn't take it. You let out a small, involuntary whimper of disgust, quickly clamping a hand over your mouth.

Zoro's eyes snapped open, green depths fixing on you. "Y/N? What's wrong?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He reached out, his hand gently touching your arm, and the proximity was too much. You recoiled as if burned, stumbling back a step.

His sleepy expression morphed into one of confusion, then hurt. He sat up, pushing himself off the railing. "Y/N?" he repeated, his voice sharper now, eyes narrowed. "Are you avoiding me?"

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how long you'd spent in Sanji's company, how many times you'd dodged Zoro's attempts at affection. The warmth of the kitchen, the pleasant scent of spices, and Sanji's smooth cologne had been a blissful reprieve, but now, facing Zoro's bewildered and wounded gaze, you realized the extent of your subconscious betrayal.

"No, I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat. How could you tell him, the man you loved more than anything, that he smelled like a forgotten swamp monster? The truth, as much as it choked you, was suddenly undeniable. And it was going to hurt.

You plastered on a wobbly smile, the kind that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just thinking about... how good Sanji's dinner is going to be! Gotta go, he probably needs help." You practically sprinted away, the scent of him fading with every hurried step, your stomach churning in protest. You didn't dare look back, afraid of what you'd see in his expression.

Zoro watched you go, a knot tightening in his chest. Your smile had been forced, your words rushed, and the way you’d recoiled… it stung. He hadn’t missed your increasing closeness to the curly-browed cook lately either, or the way you’d been subtly (or not so subtly) avoiding him. He grunted, a low, frustrated sound, and punched the railing beside him. He wasn't stupid. Something was clearly bothering you, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. You two never argued, never had a reason to. This sudden distance, the way you flinched from his touch, was a far worse blow than any enemy's sword. He spent the rest of the evening staring out at the ocean, his mind replaying your odd behavior, a growing sense of unease settling over him.

You practically dove for the nearest trash can the moment you were out of Zoro's sight, bracing your hands against the rim. A dry heave wracked your body, the phantom stench still clinging to your nasal passages, making your stomach lurch. You stayed there for a good thirty seconds, just breathing, trying to regain some semblance of control.

"Y/N-chan! Are you alright?!" Sanji's voice, laced with genuine concern, cut through your misery. He was by your side in an instant, his hand gently resting on your back. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost... or eaten Usopp's cooking."

You slowly straightened up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your eyes were glistening, and you knew your face was probably blotchy. The sheer frustration, the guilt of avoiding Zoro, and the persistent, overwhelming smell finally converged into a single, overwhelming wave.

"It's... it's Zoro," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. "He just... he smells so bad, Sanji! Like death! Like a swamp monster that's been marinating in old fish guts and forgotten socks!" The words tumbled out, a dam breaking. "I can't... I can't even stand to be near him right now! My nose feels like it's going to shrivel up and fall off!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, a fresh wave of despair washing over you. "And I feel awful! I love him, Sanji, I really do! But every time he comes near me, I just... I want to gag! I can't kiss him, I can't even hug him! I've tried everything, leaving soap, hinting, asking him to shower with me – nothing works! He's completely oblivious, and I don't know how to tell him without hurting his feelings!" Your voice cracked on the last words, and you felt a tear finally escape, tracing a path down your cheek. "I don't want to hurt him, but I can't keep pretending I don't notice!"

Sanji listened, his expression unusually serious. He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and gently offered it to you. "Here, Y/N-chan. Blow your delicate nose."

You took it, dabbing at your eyes. "I just don't know what to do."

He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Listen, Y/N-chan. That moss-headed brute... he's a swordsman, not a sensitive flower. You think a few blunt words are going to shatter his fragile ego?" He scoffed, a tiny puff of smoke escaping his lips. "Please. That Marimo has the emotional range of a particularly stubborn rock. Feelings? He probably thinks they're a type of fish."

He paused, then softened his tone slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Look, Y/N-chan. You're too kind, too gentle for your own good sometimes. You don't want to hurt him, and that's admirable. But sometimes, even for love, you have to be honest. If you don't tell him, he'll never know, and this... this little 'odor problem' of his," he waved a dismissive hand, "will just keep getting worse. And you, my dear, will suffer in silence. Is that what you want?"

He stepped a little closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "Besides," he added, a mischievous glint in his eye, "he's a simpleton. He won't connect the dots between your 'gagging' and his... eau de boar. He'll just think you're being dramatic. You have to tell him, clearly, directly. And if he gets his panties in a twist, well, that's just a clear indication he needs a good scrubbing anyway." He winked. "Trust me, Y/N-chan. A man who loves you will appreciate your honesty, even if it's about his personal aroma. Especially when it means he gets to be closer to you without you running for the hills."

He paused again, a more tender look on his face. "You're clearly distressed, Y/N-chan. And frankly, this kitchen is smelling better than ever with you in it. But the point is, you don't deserve to be uncomfortable around the person you love. And if that brute loves you even half as much as he pretends to, he'll listen."

You nodded slowly, Sanji's words sinking in. He was right. You couldn't keep doing this. Your happiness, and frankly, your sinuses, depended on it. "You're right, Sanji," you said, a newfound resolve firming your voice. "I'll do it. After dinner." You stood a little taller, a determined glint in your eye that made Sanji raise a curious eyebrow. He couldn't tell if this sudden burst of confidence was genuine, a temporary surge, or a desperate act, but he merely gave a slow nod. "That's the spirit, Y/N-chan. Go get 'em."

The aroma of Sanji's cooking filled the galley, a comforting blend of savory and sweet that usually made your mouth water. Tonight, however, anticipation was laced with dread. You sat at the table, forcing polite conversation with Robin and Usopp, your gaze drifting to the galley door every few seconds.

Then, he walked in.

It hit you like a physical blow – a wave of dense, fetid air that seemed to absorb all the pleasant culinary scents. It was the same reeking cocktail of damp earth, stale sweat, and something vaguely rotten, amplified by the confined space of the galley. Your sensitive nose, already on high alert, felt assaulted. Your eyes immediately began to water, and you fought the urge to gag, pressing your lips together in a firm line.

Around the table, the others seemed largely unaffected. Luffy was already shoveling food into his mouth, utterly oblivious. Franky was telling a loud story, his booming voice untroubled. Brook chuckled lightly, playing a soft tune.

But you weren't alone in your discomfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Nami subtly pinch her nostrils for a fleeting second before composing herself. Chopper, with his acute sense of smell, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his nose twitching, a faint green tinge to his fur. Sanji, who was serving dishes, exhaled slowly through his mouth, his usual perfect posture stiffening almost imperceptibly. They noticed, yes, but their reactions were muted compared to the violent revolt of your own senses. They were simply more accustomed to the "Zoro-smell."

Zoro, completely unaware of the olfactory assault he was unleashing, moved to his usual seat beside you. He pulled out his chair, and the slight gust of air that accompanied his movement brought a fresh, concentrated waft of his personal miasma. He then, as was his habit, settled his hand on your thigh under the table, a familiar, comforting gesture that usually brought a warmth to your chest. Tonight, it just made your skin prickle. You forced a tight smile, your gaze fixed on your plate, trying desperately to focus on the delicious food in front of you and not the suffocating cloud that had enveloped you. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, but you knew this was it. After dinner. You just had to get through dinner first.

The meal, a delicious, hearty stew Sanji had painstakingly prepared, sat before you, steaming invitingly. Usually, your plate would be clean within minutes, but tonight, it remained largely untouched. Each spoonful you attempted to lift to your mouth felt like a monumental effort. The cloying, heavy scent emanating from Zoro was a physical barrier, turning the savory aroma of the stew into something vaguely nauseating. Your stomach churned, and your throat felt tight.

You tried to distract yourself, focusing intently on the condensation forming on your water glass, counting the subtle reflections of the galley lights. Luffy, ever the oblivious eating machine, reached across Zoro to snatch a piece of meat from his plate, a move that brought another pungent waft directly into your breathing space. You swallowed hard, a tiny, silent gasp escaping you, and quickly took a long, desperate sip of water.

Zoro, between bites, squeezed your thigh gently, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. "Not hungry, Y/N?" he rumbled, his voice a low thrum against your side. You felt his eyes on you, a flicker of concern in their depths.

You forced another of your flimsy smiles, shaking your head just slightly. "Just... not feeling it tonight," you mumbled, pushing a chunk of potato around your bowl with your spoon. You couldn't meet his gaze. The thought of bringing anything to your mouth felt impossible. The food, so beautifully prepared, might as well have been a plate of raw, unidentifiable swamp creatures. Every fiber of your being was focused on simply not gagging, on not drawing attention to the sheer, unadulterated revulsion you were fighting. The conversation around you flowed, but you heard it as if through a thick, cottony fog, your senses entirely overwhelmed by the invisible, oppressive cloud that was your beloved swordsman.

As soon as Zoro pushed back his chair, a silent signal that he was finished, you saw your chance. Without a moment's hesitation, you scraped the entirety of your untouched stew onto Luffy's already overflowing plate. "Not hungry!" you mumbled, a little too quickly, before practically leaping from your seat. "Zoro! We… we need to talk!"

You darted after him, catching up just as he was about to step out onto the deck. "Just a minute!" you whispered urgently, pulling on the sleeve of his yukata. You steered him away from the bustling galley, past the main deck where Franky was tinkering, and towards the quiet, secluded stern of the ship, near the rudder. It was a spot where you often shared quiet moments, a place of privacy.

The night air was cool against your flushed face, but it did little to calm the frantic beating of your heart. You turned to face him, the words you'd rehearsed with Sanji suddenly lodged firmly in your throat. He stood before you, a towering, silent presence, and despite the fresh air, that inescapable scent still clung to him. You opened your mouth, then closed it, your jaw working uselessly. Your mind raced, trying to find the right words, the gentlest way to phrase it, but all that came out was a strangled sound. You were frozen, suddenly terrified of the hurt you knew your words would cause.

Zoro watched you, his green eyes narrowed slightly in the dim light, a rare furrow in his brow. He was used to your decisive nature, your clear communication. This stammering, this visible distress, was completely out of character. He crossed his arms, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was sharp, probing.

"Y/N?" he said, his voice low, a hint of concern beneath its usual gruffness. "What's wrong? You've been acting weird all day. And at dinner... you looked like you were about to be sick." He took a step closer, and instinctively, you took a tiny step back. His eyes sharpened further, catching your subtle recoil. "Did someone do something?" he pressed, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, ready for a fight. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head vehemently, finally managing to force a sound past your tight throat. "No! No, it's not that! It's just... it's just..." You trailed off, gesturing vaguely at him, your hands fluttering helplessly in the space between you. The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too cruel, too blunt. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, wishing you were anywhere but here, wishing for a sudden storm, a giant sea monster, anything to interrupt this agonizing moment.

"It's just what, Y/N?" Zoro asked, his voice losing some of its concern, replaced by a growing impatience. He was clearly getting frustrated by your inability to articulate. "Spit it out."

You hesitated, biting your lip, then finally, the words burst out in a rush, sounding harsher than you intended. "You stink, Zoro!"

The moment the words left your mouth, you winced, instantly regretting the bluntness. You plunged into a frantic explanation, hoping to soften the blow. "No, no, I don't mean like, just a little bit! I mean you really stink! Like, you smell like a giant, rotting sea monster that’s been rolling in muddy swamps and then baked in the sun for a week! My nose, Zoro, it's so sensitive, and I just can't… I literally can't breathe sometimes when you're close! And tonight, at dinner, I couldn't even eat! It was like trying to swallow death itself!"

You gestured wildly, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and genuine distress. "I've tried everything! Leaving soap, hinting, asking you to shower with me – you just don't get it! It's so bad, Zoro, and I love you, I really do, but I can't even kiss you right now without wanting to gag! And I feel terrible saying this, but it's true! I've been avoiding you all day just because of it, spending time with Sanji just so my nose could have a break, and it's awful, I know, but I can't help it!" The more you talked, the more you realized how awful it sounded, each desperate word digging you deeper into a hole. You trailed off, breathless, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Zoro stood utterly still, his arms still crossed, his expression a mask of unreadable shock. His eyes, usually so sharp and direct, seemed to lose their focus for a moment, as if he were trying to process a language he'd never heard before. Your words, sharp and raw with genuine frustration, hung in the air between you. He didn't yell, he didn't even get angry in the way you'd expected. Instead, a slow, dawning realization crept onto his face, followed by something akin to deep, profound bewilderment.

He blinked once, slowly, then twice. "I... I stink?" he mumbled, his voice surprisingly quiet, devoid of its usual gruffness. He actually lifted his arm and, very subtly, took a sniff of his own armpit, his brow furrowing in confusion. He couldn't smell it. Not like you described. To him, he just smelled like... him.

Then, the pieces clicked into place: your sudden distance, your odd behavior at dinner, the way you’d flinched from his touch earlier. The realization, delivered with such painful honesty, hit him not as an insult, but as an undeniable truth he had been completely blind to. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw not anger, but a flicker of genuine hurt, quickly followed by a rare blush that crept up his neck and stained his cheeks.

"You... you avoided me?" he asked, the hurt in his voice more pronounced now. "Because... because I smell?" His usual bravado seemed to deflate slightly, leaving him looking... almost vulnerable. The idea that his presence, something he assumed brought you comfort, was actually causing you such distress was clearly a shock. He looked utterly bewildered, like a child who'd just been told his favorite toy was actually a monster.

He dropped his arms, his shoulders slumping just a fraction. He finally seemed to grasp the full extent of your unspoken agony. "And you didn't... you couldn't tell me?" he finished, the question laced with a strange mixture of confusion and a very un-Zoro-like hint of disappointment.

You saw the hurt in his eyes, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over you. "I'm so sorry, Zoro! I really am! I didn't want to hurt your feelings! I tried to hint, I swear! I just... I couldn't find the right way to say it without sounding mean, and it just kept getting worse, and my nose... it just can't take it anymore! I feel horrible, truly, but I also just want to be able to stand next to you without feeling like I'm going to pass out!" Your voice was a jumbled mess of apologies and desperate explanations, your hands wringing together.

Despite the lingering, potent scent of him, Zoro took a step closer. He reached out, his large, calloused hand settling gently on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch was a familiar comfort, even through the unwelcome odor. "Hey," he rumbled, his voice low and steady, cutting through your frantic apologies. "Take a breath, Y/N."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. He could see the genuine anguish on your face, the true depth of your guilt. It wasn't an accusation; it was a desperate plea.

He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that was surprisingly patient. "So that's why you've been glued to the cook all day," he muttered, a flicker of irritation crossing his features at the thought of Sanji, but it quickly faded, replaced by a more dominant understanding. "And why you were practically gagging at dinner." He ran a hand through his green hair, looking slightly sheepish. "Guess I didn't notice." His voice was devoid of anger, replaced by a gruff acceptance. The thought that he, Zoro, had been unknowingly causing you distress was clearly a new and perplexing concept for him.

"Alright," he said, his grip on your shoulder firm but gentle. "You don't have to apologize anymore. I get it. You wouldn't say something like this if it wasn't a real problem." He paused, a faint, uncharacteristic blush rising on his cheeks again. "So... I smell like a 'rotting sea monster'?" He repeated your words, a hint of dry humor in his tone, though his eyes remained serious. "That bad, huh?"

You nodded miserably, unable to lie. "Yes," you whispered, your voice small. "That bad."

He grunted. "Fine then. Lead the way, Y/N." He took his hand off your shoulder and instead reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Show me where the soap is. If it's bothering you that much, then it's a problem we fix. No point in you avoiding me because of something as stupid as this." He looked at you then, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. "Wouldn't want my Quartermaster gagging every time I'm around. That'd just be a waste of good training time, wouldn't it?"

You stared at him, relief washing over you in a powerful wave. He wasn't mad. He understood. A watery laugh bubbled up from your chest, and without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. The smell was still there, strong and undeniable, but now, mixed with his unexpected understanding and genuine concern, it seemed a little less unbearable.

"Thank you, Zoro," you murmured into his yukata, squeezing him tight. "Thank you." You pulled back, a genuine, joyful smile finally gracing your lips. "The showers are this way! And don't worry, I've got plenty of good-smelling soap!" You turned, tugging him gently by the hand, eager to finally bridge the aromatic chasm between you.

You practically dragged Zoro towards the shower room, a spring in your step you hadn't felt all day. The door hissed open, revealing the steamy, surprisingly spacious room. Zoro, true to form, just stood there, looking mildly bewildered.

"Alright, swordsman," you chirped, reaching for a bottle of brightly scented body wash. "Let's get this done." You squeezed a generous dollop into your palm, the sweet scent of citrus and pine already filling the air.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, this is how you 'save water,' huh?" he grunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't realize you were so eager, Quartermaster."

You rolled your eyes, a genuine laugh escaping you. "Oh, hush, you," you playfully swatted his arm. "Just hold still." You began to lather the soap onto his broad shoulders, feeling the rough texture of his skin under your hands. The warm water sluiced over him, carrying away the offensive smell, slowly replaced by the fresh, clean scent of the soap. He stood patiently, a rare quietness about him, enjoying your touch.

As you worked, scrubbing away the grime of the boar hunt, the earlier tension began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable intimacy. You rinsed his hair, the water turning slightly muddy before clearing.

"Hey, Y/N," Zoro said, his voice softer than usual as you ran your hands over his chest, ensuring every inch was clean. "About earlier."

You looked up at him, your hands pausing.

"You shouldn't feel bad about telling me," he continued, his gaze direct and serious. "About... how I smell. You should never feel like you can't tell me anything, Y/N. Especially not something that's bothering you that much." He reached out, his now-clean hand gently cupping your cheek. "I'm a brute, yeah, and maybe I don't always pick up on hints." A faint smirk touched his lips. "But you're my Quartermaster. My partner. Your feelings matter. You just... need to be open with me."

You leaned into his touch, a wave of affection washing over you. "I know," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I just... I'm so used to being the one who has everything under control, who doesn't show weakness. And I didn't want to hurt you."

He shook his head slightly. "You won't. Not by being honest."

You rose on your tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his now-clean forehead. The familiar scent of him, finally clean, was a welcome relief. "Okay," you murmured, pulling back slightly. "Then we make a deal. I'll work on being more open with my feelings, and you... you work on your hygiene, okay?" You poked his chest playfully.

Zoro grunted, a rare, genuine smile gracing his features. "Deal." He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a kiss finally unmarred by any lingering odor. "And if I forget," he added, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "you just tell me. Bluntly."

The tension broken, the air between you was clear, both figuratively and literally. You spent a few more minutes in comfortable silence, the sound of the running water filling the small room, a new understanding settling between you. Communication and hygiene. Two things you both promised to work on, for the sake of your relationship and, perhaps more importantly for you, your sensitive nose.

The weeks that followed were a testament to Zoro's stubborn dedication, a trait usually reserved for training or navigating (with your help, of course). The change was gradual, subtle at first, then undeniably prominent. The lingering, offensive cloud that once surrounded him had thinned, replaced by something… unexpectedly pleasant.

You first noticed it after a particularly rigorous sparring session. As he leaned in to catch his breath, a faint, clean scent wafting from him made you pause. It wasn't just the lingering scent of soap from his morning shower; there was something else, something familiar. You narrowed your eyes, a curious smile playing on your lips.

The crew, however, was in a state of quiet, collective shock.

"Did anyone else notice... Zoro smells like flowers?" Usopp whispered to Chopper one afternoon, sniffing the air cautiously as the swordsman passed by.

Chopper's nose twitched, his eyes wide. "He smells like... Y/N!" he squeaked, his little hooves flying to cover his mouth, as if he'd just revealed a great secret.

Nami, who’d previously accepted Zoro’s aroma as an unchangeable fact of pirate life, would occasionally stop mid-sentence, take a discreet sniff, and then offer him a genuinely bewildered look. "Zoro," she'd once ventured, "are you... wearing cologne?"

He'd merely grunted, feigning disinterest, and walked away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He was trying his best, spurred on by the image of your proud smile. He'd even started sneaking into your cabin, carefully pilfering your deodorant, the kind with a light, citrusy scent, and a discreet spritz of your favorite perfume. He liked how it smelled on you, and now, it was starting to smell like him too. He thought he was being subtle, but the soft, feminine fragrance, mixed with the faintest hint of his own natural musk, was undeniably distinct.

You, of course, noticed immediately. A quiet thrill went through you every time he came near. That faint, sweet, and distinctly your scent mingling with his own was a constant, delightful reminder of his efforts. You'd sometimes catch him sniffing his own arm casually, a subtle frown of concentration on his face, as if ensuring he was still up to par. He'd look up, catch your eye, and then quickly look away, a rare, almost shy glint in his gaze. He wasn't just doing it for you; he was doing it to make you proud, and that simple fact warmed your heart more than any fresh scent ever could.

The "rotting sea monster" had been replaced by a surprisingly fragrant swordsman, and the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. The entire crew, though bewildered, secretly appreciated it. And you? You couldn't be prouder.

The crew's subtle reactions soon escalated into outright teasing. It started with playful jabs, usually when Zoro was just out of earshot.

"Hey, did anyone else notice the moss-head smells less like a swamp and more like... a fancy courtesan now?" Sanji would sneer, meticulously flicking ash from his cigarette.

Usopp, ever the instigator, took it a step further one morning during breakfast. "Zoro, you been hanging out in Nami's closet? You're smelling mighty floral today!" he chortled, nearly choking on his orange juice.

Even Luffy, usually oblivious, joined in. "Shishishi! Zoro smells good now! Like Y/N!" he exclaimed, pointing a jam-covered finger at him.

Zoro's eye would twitch, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He’d usually just glare, his hand hovering over his swords, silencing them with sheer menace. But even he couldn't hide the faint flush that would creep up his neck. He'd pretend indifference, but a flicker of self-consciousness, entirely new for him, would cross his face.

You, however, couldn't have been prouder. Every time you caught a whiff of that clean, subtly sweet scent, your heart swelled. It wasn't just about the smell; it was about the effort, the clear sign that he had listened, that your feelings mattered enough for him to change something so fundamental about himself.

One evening, as the two of you stood at the bow, watching the waves crash against the Sunny, you leaned your head against his arm, inhaling deeply. "You know," you began softly, your voice filled with genuine warmth, "you smell really good, Zoro. Like, really, really good."

He grunted, his gaze fixed on the horizon, but you felt the subtle shift of his weight, a slight stiffening. "Hmph. It's just... soap."

You chuckled, nudging him gently with your head. "No, it's more than that. I can tell you're actually trying. And I really appreciate it. It makes me so happy." You lifted your head, looking up at him, your eyes sparkling with affection. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

He finally turned his head, meeting your gaze. His usual stoic expression softened, a rare, tender look in his green eyes. He reached out, his calloused hand gently cupping your cheek. "Course it does," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your skin. "You're my Quartermaster, aren't you? Wouldn't want you gagging every time I'm around. That'd just be... unproductive." He attempted to sound gruff, but the corner of his lips quirked into a faint, almost shy smile. "And besides," he added, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "I prefer it when you're not avoiding me. Especially for something as stupid as this."

He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, and this time, there was no hesitation, no inward recoil from you. You nestled into his side, inhaling the comforting, clean scent of him, a scent that now symbolized not just his presence, but his quiet, unwavering love for you.

The "new and improved" Zoro became a running gag among the Straw Hats, but one always delivered with an undercurrent of genuine, if bewildered, affection. Luffy would still randomly sniff the air around Zoro and declare, "You smell like Y/N now, Zoro! Shishishi!" Usopp would tell exaggerated tales of Zoro's "secret stash of floral waters," much to the swordsman's visible irritation. Even Sanji, despite his inherent rivalry, would occasionally offer a backhanded compliment like, "Looks like the moss-head finally learned the meaning of personal hygiene. Took him long enough, didn't it, Y/N-chan?"

It was this last jab, however, that usually prompted your defense.

"Leave him alone, you two!" you'd retort, stepping between Zoro and his tormentors, a playful but firm glint in your eye. You'd link your arm through Zoro's, pulling him closer, your fingers lacing with his. "He's trying, and that's all that matters." You'd lean your head against his shoulder, openly inhaling his now pleasant scent. "Besides," you'd add with a smug smile, "I happen to like how he smells now."

Zoro, for his part, would just grunt, a barely perceptible curve to his lips, allowing you to pull him along. The open affection, the casual touches, the hand-holding, the spontaneous kisses – these had all returned with a vengeance. You'd found yourself leaning into him more often during quiet moments on deck, your hand instinctively finding his whenever you walked past each other. The physical barrier that the scent had created was gone, replaced by an even deeper level of intimacy.

One sunny afternoon, as you sat on the deck, meticulously charting a course, Zoro lay beside you, his head resting on your lap. Your fingers idly traced the scar over his eye, reveling in the clean scent of his hair. Luffy and Usopp were a few feet away, engaged in a dramatic retelling of a past adventure, complete with sound effects.

"And then," Usopp boomed, "Zoro charged, smelling like a week-old fish market!"

Luffy snorted with laughter. "Yeah! But now he smells like Y/N!" He leaned over, sniffing dramatically in Zoro's direction, then exaggeratedly gagged. "Whoa! Too much Y/N! It's gross!"

You rolled your eyes, but then you felt Zoro stir against your lap. He slowly sat up, his green eyes fixed on Luffy and Usopp, a dangerous glint in them. For a moment, you thought he was finally going to unleash his wrath.

Instead, he turned to you, a rare, uncharacteristic softness in his gaze. He leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips. It was a kiss full of quiet promise, of comfort, and of newfound understanding. When he pulled back, a faint smirk played on his lips. "Guess it is a good thing I smell like you then, Quartermaster," he rumbled, loud enough for Luffy and Usopp to hear. "Means you'll always find me."

The two pranksters gasped, then dissolved into horrified squawks of "Gross!" and "Get a room!" but you barely heard them. You just smiled, a deep, contented warmth spreading through your chest. The small, often-overlooked detail of hygiene had, ironically, led to a profound shift, cementing the bond between you and your swordsman in a way neither of you could have anticipated. He was still the fierce, directionally challenged brute you loved, but now, he was also the surprisingly sweet-smelling partner who listened, who changed, and who loved you enough to face his own shortcomings. And for that, your heart, and your sensitive nose, were eternally grateful.

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i am genuinely so sorry for messing up this request dawg, if you want me to rewrite it i get it😭

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 11 months ago

Text

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

853 notes · View notes

joooooniecore · 3 months ago

Text

Oh no, I'm falling in love

Being in love with your best friend is the last thing you wanted in your life. Namjoon has always been your pillar in the harshest of days and no matter how much you are in love with him, you are never going to confess. You are too scared for things to go wrong.

But when that one fateful event occurs, will you be able to suppress your growing desire to be his?

✧˖* pairing: best friend!namjoon x f!reader

✧˖* w.c: 5.2k (full work)

✧˖* genre: best friend namjoon, best friends to lovers, a problematic ex(for a brief moment), fluff, smut.

✧˖* content warnings (full work): reader is really depressed, a problematic ex, some harsh words | explicit smut: body worship, praise, unprotected penetration(don’t do it guys)

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY! I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WILL BE BLOCKED.

The continuous stubborn urge to run away has always been there on your mind. You never stay stable as the world seems to make fun of the way you live. You have always been a people pleaser, someone who has always been there. Someone who looks strong like she can cause a storm but no one finds a way to see through the façade of how she is the one fighting a storm all alone. Being alone has done wonders to your mind. You know how to live alone even though you hate being alone.

You have always been an extroverted person but the amount of toxic relationships and messed up dates has ruined your will to do anything for the sake of love at all. You are good at it though, giving your all when you liked someone and somehow losing yourself in the process.

“You have grown distant”, was what they would say as they broke up. It was the same every time. A cheap way to get away from the depressed energy you always gave off probably.

The buzzing in your mind never stops as you type aggressively on the keyboard, jotting down schedule and timings for the new tour and brand dealings on the spreadsheet. The clattering of keys probably helps as your mind stays blank and all you can think of are putting numbers in those tiny boxes.

“You are going to break the keyboard at this rate.”, came a soft chuckle from behind you. Then a warm hand on your shoulders as the stress somehow dissipated.

“Shut up Namjoon.”, you told out loud as the clattering stopped and you turned your head to meet eyes with your best friend.

“I was just passing by and saw you murdering the keyboard.”, Namjoon said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Not my fault that the schedule seems skeptical.”, you murmured before addressing the drink in Namjoon’s hands.

“Thanks for the drink.”, you said with a grumble as the sweet strawberry milkshake calmed your nerves down.

“You’re welcome.”, Namjoon said as he sat beside you and started toying with the small figurines displayed on your desk.

“Aren’t you extending your welcome?”, you playfully teased.

“I provide you smoothies to survive so shut up.”, Namjoon responded with the same frequency.

You both became fast friends. When you first joined this entertainment company as a manager, you were naïve. Being young among the other workers, it was tough for you to get used to your surroundings. You were also not so fluent in Korean which created a little chaos for the first few months. Namjoon was your savior. Even though he had his own responsibilities as an idol trainee and composer of a rookie group, he gave his time in teaching you Korean and also helping you get used to the surroundings.

He was your first friend in this unknown country and you both have been strong ever since. When Bangtan became famous, Namjoon was the one to ask for you as their manager in front of the board of directors and even though you were younger than most members of the group, your efficiency didn’t go to waste as you were granted that position without a single hesitation.

“Don’t you have work?”, you snickered as you sipped the drink.

“I am done for the day so decided to annoy you.”, Namjoon said with a shrug.

“Of course.”, you said with an extra sweet smile.

You started typing again as Namjoon started scrolling on his phone. After what felt like hours, Namjoon finally spoke again, “Are you going to the get-together party?”

“I don’t think so. It gets awkward there.”, you muttered under your breath.

The get-together in question is something some of the managers and idols attend. It’s a monthly thing where they get to lose their status and enjoy the evening. You like going there as you are good friends with most of the idols but recently you have been feeling a little under the weather and you are not wishing to come face to face with Youngjin, your ex who is also the manager of an idol group.

“Oh come on, Jungkook has been nagging me to bring you there.”, Namjoon said with an almost pout.

“You know how it is. I don’t want to face him.”, you said trying to sound less tired.

“I know but we all will be there. It will be fine. You have to just stay with us.”, Namjoon said with a soft smile, his hand resting on top of yours as he tried to calm you down.

You thought about it for a second, taking the possibilities in and how you would be able to enjoy the evening with good friends. Yes, you would hate to see your ex but it’s inevitable that you would meet him one day or another.

“Fine. But you are picking me up.”, you said as you glared at him.

“Yes ma’am.”, Namjoon said with a victorious smile.

As he walked out of the door, you released a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. It has been harder nowadays to hold back the feelings you have for your closest friend. You are extremely scared that this might cause a rift with the only person who feels like home to you. You have always been scared to fall in love. Always finding flaws in the other person and justifying you falling out of love because of a missing quality. But with Namjoon it was different. You have tried hard to find a flaw that would justify your urge to keep the friendship as it was but there were none. You have seen the way he treats women and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Speaking of women, Namjoon has always been the centre of attraction and that has always caused you to stay behind the scenes. He is charismatic, and handsome. He can easily get any woman he lays his eyes on and hence, it would never be you. Even though he never really dates, you have seen the way women fawn over him. You would always be his best friend. Someone who he allows to be in his life as a support. Someone who knows all his little tales at the end of the day. Someone who is there to just be a friend.

The day went by as you got busy with work. In the evening after you got dressed up, your phone rang and you were quick to pick it up only to find Jimin calling.

“Hello Jimin-ie. What’s up?”, you sweetly responded as you searched for your lipstick.

“Nothing just seeing whether you would come to the party or not.”, Jimin’s soft voice filled your ears.

“I am coming. Namjoon is forcefully picking me up from home in a few minutes.”, you flatly stated.

“Oh come on, you would actually like being forced by him.”, Jimin said with his usual teasing voice.

“Ugh shut up. I did a mistake when I told you about my crush.”, you snickered back with an eye roll.

“Get your man ____.”, Jimin said.

“He isn’t mine and he never will be.”, you chuckled bitterly but nobody has to know that.

Jimin sighed as he ended the call and you decided to finally wear your heels just when the doorbell rang. You quickly got out of your bedroom as you opened the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the opposite wall to your apartment.

“What the heck are you doing?”, you frantically screamed as you grabbed his blazer and pulled him in, not before slamming the door shut.

“Woah calm down girl. What happened?”, Namjoon said with a smirk.

“Why are you here? Where’s your driver?”, you glared at him.

“He is waiting in the car. I came to pick you up.”, Namjoon casually stated as he sat on the couch.

“Anybody could have seen you. Are you insane?”, you were still a bit shaken.

You live in a very secured society which does have a lot of famous people since your job does include being captured by cameras when you are escorting the members through the airport. Many of the fans know you by your name as they gush about how pretty and confident you are. You have no idea how they concluded that from just your pictures. You have seen the posts and hence it won’t be nice if someone decides to spread a rumor just for the sake of some sort of fame. You are scared to tarnish Namjoon’s career with your name.

“It’s a secured building.”, Namjoon flatly stated.

“Still...”, you swallowed the words as you decided to wear your heels and get your purse.

When you finally came out all ready, you saw Namjoon staring at you intently.

“What?”, you finally asked.

“You know how to clean up good manager-nim.”, Namjoon said with a silly smile.

“Shut up.”, you grumbled and hoped for Namjoon to not notice how your cheeks flushed red and your heartrate increased.

By the time you reached the party, your mind has become calmer. You were actually excited to meet your friends and were also prepared to ignore your ex.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of the door, you were pulled in by the members and few of the managers. They were laughing and giggling about something you had no idea about.

“Why are you guys laughing?”, you asked with a puzzled expression.

“Hoseok here started a bet that you would enter here pissed off because of something stupid Namjoon would have done.”, said one of the managers as you rolled your eyes.

“He is stupid. He was standing at my doorstep without a freaking mask on.”, you exasperated as your hands moved dramatically.

Everyone laughed about it and served you drinks.

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”, you said as you sat beside Jimin and Taehyung.

These two menaces were eating your head out. They were saying how Namjoon always looks at you from across the room and you would never believe that. It’s probably because of the fact that you are his best friend, someone he knows closely that he checks up on you once in a while.

“He doesn’t check up on you. He checks out you.”, Taehyung said with a knowing glint.

“I bet money that he would come right towards you once he sees you talking with that ex of yours.”, Jimin stated.

“But why would I talk with my ex?”, you dumbly question.

“Because he is approaching us. Bye.”, and before you knew, the known faces of Jimin and Taehyung were replaced with the dipshit face of your ex.

“Hey ____. How have you been?”, Youngjin said in his usual cocky tone.

“I am fine.”, you answered in a clipped tone.

“You look uhm amazing.”, he said as sat on the bar stool in front of you.

“Thanks I guess?”, you said nonchalantly.

“Listen, I seriously want to talk about something.”, he started to speak but you raised your hand to make him stop.

“Don’t.”, you said in a tone that meant finality.

“Oh come on, can’t we just get back together again?”, he said in a voice that made your skin crawl.

He was the one who ruined you and now has the audacity to get back with you just because he thinks you are available.

“I don’t want to.”, you said in that exact same annoyed tone.

“You aren’t dating anyways.”, he stated and that made your blood boil.

“Doesn’t mean I am available for you.”, you snickered back.

“Nobody would date you anyways, I am giving you a chance.”, he said in such an unbothered manner that it made you gasp. Your face turned red as your eyes teared up.

Just when you were going to walk away, there was a warm presence behind your back. An arm crawling up around your waist and you were damned because you knew whose hand it was.

“Is there some kind of problem?”, Namjoon’s deep voice vibrated against your back. He was pressed against you as warmth seeped through the flimsy dress of yours.

“Uh no- no sir.”, you saw Youngjin crumble down.

“Then you might go away because you are making her uncomfortable.”, Namjoon said in such a demanding voice that it made your knees weak. He was mad and you could feel it by the way his fingers tightened against the dip of your waist, pressing the skin which send delicious shivers down your spine.

“Are you two-?”, Youngjin dumbly asked and as you were going to deny the fact, Namjoon spoke.

“And what if we were? What are you gonna do about it?”, he mocked as Youngjin could only ramble something incoherent as he scurried away.

The palm against your skin vanished and you almost missed it. That’s when it hit you – ‘oh no I am falling in love again’

Namjoon twirled the bar stool around till you were facing him or more precisely his chest. You craned your neck up to look at his face and you could see the way he was grinding his molars. He was mad as his chin puckered out which only happens when he is either concentrated or extremely mad.

“It’s okay Namjoon. He is gone.”, you said with a soft smile as you ran your hands across the length of his arm in a friendly pat.

You saw the way he melted when you touched him and that almost made you believe that he had the same feelings towards you. His eyes softened as he looked at you as if trying to find a way to ease your pain, to make it up to you.

“You should have walked away.”, he finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wanted to see how low he can get.”, you said with a sad smile.

“I don’t like when someone ruins your mood.”, he said as he sat down on the stool.

“It’s okay. I am fine.”, you tried to calm him down.

“He has no right to do that. How can he think that he can talk like this to someone as pretty as you?”, he stated with a stern gaze.

“You think I am pretty?”, you asked as you wiggled your eyebrows to make him laugh or cringe.

“Yes. You are.”, he stated instead as he tried to find answers in your eyes.

You gasped as your eyes widened but before you could say something, his hands reached yours as he played with your fingers. His eyes fixed on the way your fingers molded with his. Then he trailed an invisible line from the tip of your nails to the dip of your lips.

“So pretty.”, he whispered as if it wasn’t meant for you to be heard.

“Namjoon I –”, you were going to stop him or do something to stop the sensations that were happening in your body.

“You have no idea how I look at you.”, Namjoon spoke again as your breath hitched.

It might have been an insane thought but you wanted to know more. You were bathing in the way his eyes travelled to every inch of your exposed skin.

“And how do you look at me?”, you asked softly as if trying to keep it a secret.

“Like I want to make you mine.”, Namjoon said as his eyes met yours with a stern gaze. He was looking at you as if trying to see the way you would react. The way you would blush or push him way. The way you would kiss him or simply slip out of his fingers.

“Then do it. Make me yours.”, you said and that was it for Namjoon.

He got up so quickly as if his pants were on fire. He tightly held your hand as he passed through the crowded room not before informing his members that he is going home quickly. They shared a knowing glance as Jimin winked at you which made you blush.

And soon you were out of the messy crowded room and into the cool spring night. The soft wind made your blazing skin a little calm as Namjoon called for his driver to pick him up.

The palm of his hands again found their home on the dip of your waist as he pulled your back towards his wide chest. Your skin flushed against his as he dipped his head low just to gently kiss the curve of your neck – where your neck meets your shoulder. The sleeveless dress was doing nothing to stop the sensation that his lips left on your skin.

The car stopped right in front of you as Namjoon opened the door to usher you in.

“Drive to my house.”, he directed the driver before his entire attention was on you again.

“Are you feeling fine?”, he softly asked you.

“Yes.”, you whispered back.

“Are you drunk, love?”, he gently asked.

“No. Just sipped a little wine.”, you answered truthfully.

“Good. Because I need you to remember how I make you mine.”, Namjoon firmly stated against the cavity of your ears. The warm breath fanning against your neck which caused shivers down your spine.

The ride to his place felt like it was taking too long. The quietness of the night as the big buildings passed by and the street shops shined even though it was past midnight. As soon as the car drove through the gate of the society, Namjoon’s grip on your thigh tightened. He got out of the car and helped you out before thanking the driver and wishing him a goodnight.

Almost as if he was afraid you might vanish, he pulled you in the building and towards the lift. His hands trying to hold onto you as you softly smiled.

“I am not running away.”, you teased.

“I know but I am not taking chances.”, Namjoon smirked as he dipped his head to place a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

The lift chimed signaling the floor number as you both got out and slowly walked past the hallway and into his apartment. You have visited his place a million times. Mostly to discuss tour schedules and sometimes to enjoy a good drink and some movies. You both have always maintained the friendly boundary as you always tried to suppress the overflow of feelings whenever his knees grazed against yours as you both sat on the floor and laughed.

The room somehow felt smaller today as Namjoon allowed you to walk in first before he followed and shut the door behind him. You slowly got out of your heels, a relief washing over your face as you tentatively walked towards the welcoming couch.

The soft plush cushion dipping down with your weight as you sat on it. Your dress rose up a little as the fabric was doing nothing to hide the expanse of your legs. Namjoon’s eyes never left you as he took you in; seated on his couch in his home. He was feeling extremely nervous as he walked towards you before kneeling in front of you on the carpeted area.

“You are so beautiful, fuck.”, Namjoon’s voice seemed strained as if he was trying to control himself.

You blushed under the heated gaze as he grazed his hands over your exposed legs. He was groping and massaging your skin as you held onto his shoulders.

“You are so pretty, I could die.”, he muttered under his breath before spreading your legs gently as if asking for permission.

You gladly listened to his commanding hands as you spread your legs wider, giving him access to your red lacy panties.

“Fuck. I will crumble down here itself.”, Namjoon huskily stated as he grazed a finger against the hem of the lace.

“N-Namjoon...”, you whimpered as you desperately wanted him to touch you.

“What do you want my darling?”, he asked, his eyes again finding yours with so much more lust.

“I want you, Namjoon. Please.”, you moaned as he finally grazed his fingers against your core. His knuckles deliciously grinding against the soft fabric that separated your skin from his.

“So pretty and perfect for me.”, he said as he got up and lifted you up as you squeaked a little. He walked towards the bedroom with such fast steps that you almost fell like giggling.

The room was dimly lit as Namjoon threw you on the soft bed. Your back against the plush pillows as he hovered over you like a thirsty man.

“I have always wanted you here, right here under me.”, Namjoon stated as he dived in and trailed kisses down your neck and chest.

“You have me now, what are gonna do about it?”, you said with a hint of tease, trying to make him lose control.

“I will devour you love.”, he said before flipping you on your stomach easily and unzipping the dress. He yanked it away from your body and threw it somewhere on the floor before flipping you again over as you were facing him in your naked state.

The red lingerie set gleamed against your tan skin. The lace making your body glimmer with a newfound beauty under the dim light from the night lamp. Namjoon groaned before kissing and sucking your skin, trying to memorize every inch of your existence.

“You are all mine.”, he said as he trailed his tongue down your belly button and stopped just above the fabric covering your core.

“Please Namjoon.”, you whispered.

“Please what?”, Namjoon challenged.

“Take it off. Goddamit!”, you almost whimpered and that was his cue as he grazed his teeth a little on the skin before biting the corner of your panties and peeling it down inch by inch only with the help of his teeth.

The scene made you roll your eyes as you couldn’t imagine how aroused your felt. Namjoon was a piece of art and the way his dragon eyes never left your face for a single second when he opened your panties did things to you that you were embarrassed to admit.

He grazed his fingers against your wet core which elicited a deep guttural moan from your throat.

“You like the way I make you feel, right?”, Namjoon’s deep voice rumbled as all you could do was nod.

He finally unclasped your bra as you laid naked on his bed, in his sheets all glowing from the arousal as he breathed heavily.

“I would die if you don’t make me cum.”, you finally said and all you received was a smirk and his tongue twisting against your core.

The sensation caused a dramatic effect on your body. Your hips grinding as if they have a mind of their own. Namjoon used his one hand to hold you down while his other hand was used to rub your clit in a slow agonizing pace.

“Fuck Namjoon...”, you whimpered as your hole clenched around his tongue.

He inserted two fingers in, finally making you lose your mind as you moaned loudly before biting your own lips to stop the obstinate sounds that were coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking do that.”, Namjoon almost growled as he removed your lips from under your teeth.

“I want this entire floor to know who is making you feel so good.”, he smirked as he dived in again and ate you out like a man who has been starving.

You felt it then. The onset of euphoria as your body rumbled and your knees went weak. Your breath increased as you moaned loudly his name before falling apart against his fingers and tongue. Your release coating his tongue perfectly as he licked you clean.

He got up, smiling cockily as his chin glistened with your juices.

“Fuck you are insane.”, you said before you sat up and kissed him.

He gladly kissed you back as you fell against the pillow and he devoured your mouth. You tasting yourself against the tip of his tongue which made you moan into his mouth.

You pushed him onto the bed before sitting on his lap, facing him.

“Hi.”, you smiled against his skin as he held you tight. You peppered kisses down his chin and neck as he moaned a little. You liked the way you affected him as you slowly undid his shirt’s buttons and kept kissing every inch of skin that was being exposed.

His grip tightened against your waist as your grinded a little on his lap. Your exposed pussy deliciously twisting on his dress pants which were getting coated by your arousal.

“Leave marks –”, he moans.

“Please leave marks.”

You smirked as you kissed and sucked his neck and his chest, leaving marks as you pleased and he moaned and whimpered. You almost felt invincible as you saw such a big man like him whimpering against your touch.

“You are so pathetic.”, you muttered lowly in his ear.

“I’m so pathetic...”, he hums submissively, agreeing.

You slowly opened his shirt and threw it away before going for his belt. You got down from his lap and kneeled on the floor before asking him to sit on the edge of the bed.

Slowly you opened his belt and pants as his cock heavily strained against his boxers. You touched it through the fabric as he moaned.

“You are so big.”, you whispered and it came out like a sigh.

“Take it out darling, please.”, Namjoon whimpered as you finally took his cock out and put it in your mouth.

You licked the precum clean as you tried to take it whole at one go. Tears dared to fall out of your eyes as you moaned satisfactorily against his cock. He was huge and it filled your mouth perfectly as you bobbed your head up and down, making he groan and moan.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”, he stated as he gripped your hair around his knuckles.

“Only I make you feel like this right?”, you tease with kitten licks on the tip.

“Yes. Yes, only you.”, Namjoon whimpers as you suck one last time before he is pulling you up and onto the bed.

A shiver ran down your body as Namjoon stared you down as he crawled up to you and aligned his cock to your aching core. You were so impatient as you saw the way he correctly caught onto your desperate look and smirked.

“Namjoon...don’t tease.”, you whimpered as you tried to sound stern.

“You have to say please, baby.”, Namjoon’s eyes bored down on you as you saw a smooth smirk forming on his face.

He knew he drove you crazy and that made it extra hot. You moaned at the sensation of his cock slowly rubbing against your pussy and almost as if an involuntary reaction, you whispered, “Please fuck me.”

He slammed his cock in and groaned along with you, your bodies convulsing into one as only panting was heard.

“That’s it darling.”, Namjoon groaned in your ear as he kept thrusting at an agonizingly slow pace. He snapped his hips once in a while to give you the intensity of how his cock would feel completely in your pussy but then he is back to slow fucking.

“You are making me go crazy.”, Namjoon said between thrusts and all you could do was moan his name. He was making you feel so good that you clenched against his throbbing dick, trying to take it all in.

Your body was on fire as the sensations that were happening on your skin was too much to take. You gripped his biceps, trying to stabilize yourself as you pulled him in for a kiss.

“I want to ride you.”, you finally whimpered out and Namjoon obliged willingly.

He flipped you both over so that you were seated on his stomach as he lied down and took you in. Your flushed skin and messed up hair was looking extra pretty. Your cheeks red as sweat glistened your skin like some sort of alluring entity.

“You are so beautiful.”, Namjoon stroked your cheek as you slowly grinded on his cock. His head fell as he groaned and moaned. You were euphoric when you watched the way he fell apart. It almost gave you confidence as you slowly grinded your hips and rode his dick.

“Nam...joon I am going to...”, you whimpered as you could feel the climax approaching.

Namjoon noticed and took the matter in his own hands as he gripped your waist and hips tight, your skin blazing under his touch as he snapped his hips up to coax your climax. You saw stars as you felt the climax take over your body, creaming his cock with your release which made him moan loudly as he tried to take his dick out before he releases.

“Don’t. Cum inside me. I have IUD.”, you couldn’t even finish speaking as he thrusts in again and this time you saw the pleasure shoot up on his face as he gripped you tight against his skin and came inside you. Filling you up with his warm release.

“Fuck...”, he said in your ears as he held you tight.

You both stayed in that position for quite a long time before he slowly got up and took you to the washroom bridal style. He got a warm bath ready for you as you washed yourself and got into one of his shirts and shorts.

After Namjoon was also done showering, he quickly changed the sheets and placed some fresh sheets on the bed before he pulled you in with him. You lied down on his bicep as he pulled you in for a long embrace.

“I wasn’t joking, okay?”, Namjoon said after a while.

“Huh?”, you looked at him dumbfoundedly.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I want to make you mine.”, he said a little more serious this time.

“Oh.”, you said as you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Yes. I have been in love with you for a while now. I tried to suppress this feeling for a while but then I saw you with that bastard and I thought I lost you.”, Namjoon earnestly confessed.

“I also have feelings for you.”, you meekly replied.

“What?”, Namjoon was shocked as he stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes. I dated Youngjin because I wanted to get over that feeling but that never happened. I have always been hopelessly in love with you.”, you finally confessed after mustering a lot of courage.

“That’s...wow...that’s insane.”, Namjoon stammered as he drew slow circles on your skin.

“We are both stupid, aren’t we?”, you said with a silly smile.

Namjoon gave a hearty laugh as he pulled you in again, this time making sure you know how much you mean to him. He kissed your forehead and then your cheeks before he was peppering your whole face with kisses as you giggled and tried to push him away.

“You are smitten.”, you teased.

“Just for you.”, Namjoon said with a smile.

And no matter the loneliness that once was in your life, you knew that Namjoon would always has been there. Namjoon has always been that invisible pillar in your life that you always were grateful for. He has always been there, in the most subtle ways. And you are glad that you both found your ways to each other.

✧˖* taglist: @topforsure @moonqueensposts @sanarin @joonlover1207

✧˖* note: this was kind of intense but i really wanted to use the short plot idea i saw somewhere online. i hope you liked it!!♡♡ can you guess where i used that short plot idea? anyways i will be back with more such fics, till then goodbye and have a great day!

– love, artemis

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