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jakesimfromstatefarm · 8 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°

m. list here!

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

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

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

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existence-is-a-pain87 · 23 days ago

Text

With No Eyes I Weep

Part 3 to With Eyes I See (Part 1) and Without Eyes I'm Blind (Part 2). This a finale to a three part series, and I recommend reading the first two parts if you're new to this if ya would like context. No pressure though. :D

Yandere!Forsaken x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; dark themes; blood; death; murder; cannibalism; violence; and more. Please read with caution and, if you're a minor, please be extremely cautious.

Note: Nothing to say just yet, teehee. Hope yall enjoy the finale though and I wrap the series up well.

---

@amistakehadhappened

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Your screaming attracted others, naturally. Why wouldn't it?

But it wasn't the survivors you expected. Hell, what you hoped for. What you prayed for. What you wished for.

But your hopes truly went to die when you were approached by John Doe.

You stared up at him as he loomed over you, your screams dying on your tongue as your wings extended to shield you in case he tried to harm you.

You didn't even realize your screen was off.

He just stood over you, staring at your bandaged face and every aspect of your body. Then he crouched down, slowly reaching out to touch one of your wings.

You just panic and shove him away before running, eventually just climbing onto a tree and cowering.

Didn't the Forsaken Killers stay trapped in their own personal limbos? Was this your limbo, being trapped in a clone of the lobby except with Killers rather than Survivors? Why? WHY?!

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

You wrap your wings around yourself like you're trapped in a cacoon, desperately trying to figure anything out as you notice the red particles weakly emitting from your body, namely the eyes of your wings.

You stare at it, before hollowing asking. "Did you do this?"

The entity doesn't respond. Well, you suppose you should refer to it what it really is.

The Spectre.

You made a deal with the Spectre to get your sight back.

How didn't you figure this out earlier?! Why did it bring you here? Oh god- OH GOD-

You don't get to stay in the tree for long, though. The bough is easily snapped off by John and you squawk as you come crashing to the ground.

You're too stunned to fight back when he picks you up, placing a hand on your cheek. He hesitates, before whispering your name.

You can't stop yourself from perking up and looking directly at him when he says your name.

"..." You stay silent for a long moment, before booting up your screen. "...I'm sorry."

"...for what?" John asked you, staring at you as if you're beautiful.

"...for all the sins I've done, and for all the sins I have yet to do."

--☆☆☆--

Meeting the other Killers was quite awkward, so say the least. At the very least, less than half of them knew you previously, so perhaps everything would be fine and peaceful.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The moment your name exited your lips, c00lkidd was upon you with a tight hug and sobs of "Mom! Mom!!"

Even if he was now roughly nine feet tall and loomed above you, he was still a child who missed you. You hugged him back, of course. Why wouldn't you?

Jason ignored your existence, which made sense. All they did was nod slightly to acknowledge you.

1x1x1x1 barely spared you any mind. Then again, all you knew was their creator and not them, so it made sense why they barely cared about you.

You didn't notice how they stared at you whenever you weren't paying any attention to them. That hungry, greedy stare.

You tried to ignore Mafioso as his head seemed to snap up at your name, and how they seemed to watch you as you met the other Killers, John hovering around you like a guard dog of sorts.

NOL1 didn't even look up until c00lkidd hugged you, before his eye widened and he started to cat call you.

He ceased after a death glare from John, but you figured it wouldn't be the end of it.

Pr3tyPriincess just said, "Oh thank god, someone else who at least looks like a girl" when she saw you, and Bluudud just wasn't there. Probably off streaming somewhere.

Guest 666 saw you and quite literally sprinted towards you. You were practically tackled in a tight hug, and felt awkward watching as they bickered with John over who you should be around right now. You tried to pay it no mind, hoping they wouldn't be as... obsessive, as before.

You did note they never one apologized or tried to talk about your argument.

You didn't bring it up either.

And you let out a sob of joy when Gubby came bounding towards you and right into your arms.

Everything seemed fine, even if you had to kill people in rounds every couple of days or so. Though you could probably try to avoid harming others as much as possible if your curse still functioned the same.

If only you knew then...

But the moment Azure approached you, all hell broke lose.

Screams ripping from your throat, feathers being wildly sent back as you used your wings to try and keep him away, stumbling back as any human composure you had gave way to animalistic terror.

You didn't dare say what he did to you. Didn't dare let him get close.

But he didn't get too close after that.

It didn't stop him from following you around at a distance, watching over you as their tendrils writhed and twisted when you looked back at them, trying to court you as if they were a bird with impressive displays and such.

As if any of that could mend any of the damage he has done.

--☆☆☆--

This round's Killer is

You took a breath as your name appeared after that text. After your identity was revealed to the Survivors.

This would be fine.

...

You couldn't ignore how your vision was worsening, a clear sign of you needing to eat soon.

But why? You ate recently. Just before coming here, in fact. You should have more time. Far more time.

Was this the Spectre pressuring you into killing? Forcing you due to your desperation to see?

You didn't know. You just hated the uncertainty.

But, you would make do. Eat, while frantically apologizing and hoping they would forgive you upon respawning in the lobby.

Or perhaps they'd hate you. Perhaps that would be better. Because then there would be no more obsession if they didn't like you, right?

At the very least, you could kill Two Time. And you figured you find joy in that. Find glee in the pain on their face.

If that made you a bad person, it was worth it. Worth it to finally get a bit of fucking revenge for what they did to you.

And once you spawned, the hunt was on.

Your abilities were unique as a killer. You had the classic Slash (where you'd use your talons to main a victim slightly). Your passive allowed you to take whatever damage you did to survivors and use it to heal yourself (plus improve your sight) and give you minor boosts in speed and damage when you got a kill.

You had an ability that essentially allowed you to teleport to a survivor you had damaged by flying and crashing down into the ground, something you only could describe as a variation to Jason's Behead that was more of a stunner than a damage dealer, with you inflicting Slow II upon a successful hit, and something that essentially allowed you to reveal all Survivors location on the map by using your magic.

You were, to put it lightly, a LMS nightmare no one would want to deal with.

This was fine, you could make this all work. You always could.

You had a specific target in mind, after all.

You darted about, screen glowing as the dark environment didn't phase you.

It was easy to find the survivors. Hell, most of them seemed to be actively searching for you.

But Two Time wasn't even hidden. And when you loomed above him, he merely looked over at you with a smile.

A smile you despised.

It was maniac, yet adoring. The smile you gave someone you loved, though warped with obsession.

"Hello, little bird." They mused at you, reaching up to touch your cheek, and you flinched at the contact. The lack of any fear in the action sent shivers down your spine. "...you're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"I'm going to devour you while you're still alive." You told them, purposefully trying to scare them. To make them fear you so they'd stop obsessing over you. "I'm going to rip your body apart and eat it. I'm going to leave you alive as long as possible so you suffer."

"I'm honored for the blessing." Two Time told you, looking adoringly at you.

"I'm going to make you feel as much pain as possible."

"Every bit of pain you give me is a gift from you, and I will cherish it." They replied, unphased.

"...you should fight back. Be angry."

"I won't." They told you, "I wouldn't dare harm your beautiful form."

"...I hate you."

They smile. "I know."

--☆☆☆--

Eating Two Time both made you want to throw up and made you feel more glee.

But you felt disgusted by how he relished in you feasting upon him. The pleasure evident on his face as you ripped into his body and devoured, keeping him alive for as long as you could until it sunk in he was... enjoying this.

You then killed him quickly after that and finisned him off, trying to hold in the bile that rose in your throat by his adoration and joy.

At the very least, your eyesight was better afterwards. But...

God you felt starved.

...

Oh god, the Spectre made it so you never felt satisfied after eating so you'd eat more. So you'd kill more.

Even without your eyes, you felt tears sting them. Your bandages got moist with the tears that leaked out of whatever remained.

You almost threw up. You barely held it down.

You just stood up and started to move again. You could hold yourself back, couldn't you? You didn't need to kill. Your eyesight was fine. You could ignore the starvation.

You had to. Right?

You just roamed this map a bit, trying to find a good spot to hole up so you wouldn't have to deal with any other survivors. But they found you.

"Babe? BABE!!" Chance's voice ripped through the air, and you flinched. Your feathers were ruffled as you looked over at Chance speeding towards you, before practically tackling you in a hug.

You let out a squawk as you tumbled to the ground, Chance squeezing you tightly as he talked at a thousand miles an hour. You realized he was both restraining you and hugging you at the same time, and you respected him for it.

"Oh my god- what happened to you?! Why- what did I miss? Who hurt you? Who's responsible for this?!"

"Love," You say, your tail tentatively poking him, "I can't breathe."

"I- I'm sorry. I can't let you go." Chance tells you, grimacing, "Can't risk you... killing me."

"I'm not going to do that..." You remark, "But... I understand. It's okay."

It wasn't hard to tell he barely held himself together. They were not taking you being a Killer well... at all. You didn't blame them. You just tentatively stretched out a wing and wrapped it around them as a hug.

That just made him break down sobbing. You let him cry, giving him a moment of peace before you got punched square in the head.

Letting out a panicked caw as you felt dazed, you immediately fluffed out your wings as Chance let go.

You laid on the ground in a daze as Chance told someone off, before managing to turn your head to stare at Guest 1337 as he argued with Chance about not fighting off the Killer.

You just stand up, feeling pangs of hunger clawing at your stomach, and you feel desperate to not snap and eat one of them. So you dart off, not noticing the miserable look Chance has when you're gone.

You just holed up until the timer ran out and hid in your cabin, not wanting to talk with anyone.

You didn't know how Two Time bragged to the other survivors about how you ate him.

--☆☆☆--

Interacting with Mafioso was... awkward.

He loomed over you, as you shuffled there awkwardly, holding Gubby in your arms.

"I- uh- heard you took care of Gubby before I showed up." You said, avoiding eye contact (mostly since you had none and his were hidden), "Thank you for that."

He just stared down at you, before suddenly saying, "I apologize."

"...wha?" You chirp out, startled, "What'dya mean?"

"My goons went to the wrong house," He tells you, arms crossed, "You weren't the right person we were going after. My boss told me that if I didn't find you and apologize, I was as good as dead. Shame that came to be before I met you."

You stare at him as he finishes, "I just wanted to finally do what I was told."

"...I don't know what to really think about that..." You murmur. What Mafioso's goons did never really was in the front of your mine. Yeah, they hurt you. But... you didn't resent them nearly as much as you did for Azure and Two Time.

You stood there, lost in your thoughts as Mafioso sighed and ruffled the hair on the top of your head. "Your rabbit's cute. Lemme know if you need any help looking after him."

You merely nod, and you both go your separate ways. Though it was the beginning to a friendship of sorts.

...

There were more friendships among the other Killers. Even if they became unhealthy quick.

--☆☆☆--

You didn't like how often you were chosen as the Killer in rounds. What you enjoyed even less was how more and more people seemed willing to let them eat you the moment they learned you did that to see.

You wanted to put a stop to it. But you didn't. And you didn't know why.

You told yourself it would be fine if they hated you. But all you could do was nervously tell them no.

The moment they learned of your constant hunger and how only eating people helped to satiate it?

Everyone you knew refused to let you take no as an answer.

The only one who really had any semblance of sense was Guest 1337, and that was because he refused to trust you.

At the very least, he'd let you have a short conversation with him as you tried to avoid the others. He made you feel... normal. Or at least, not like you were some being who deserved worship.

He listened to you, and you listened to him and did your best to offer advice. Eventually, he warmed up to you a bit.

You were so relieved you didn't notice he too became obsessed too.

...

You did notice. You just deluded yourself into ignoring it.

You were just so tired...

--☆☆☆--

You hated the obsession. You hated how it just worsened here and now. No one you spoke to was safe.

Even if you still were dating Chance on a technicality, it didn't stop any of the love directed at you. It didn't stop the others from fighting with him.

It made everything a Hell. A Hell you couldn't escape from.

When you broke up with Chance out of fear for his safety, he didn't take it well. And god, it made everything for you so much worse.

You gave up on it all, holing up in your cabin and only really talking to Mafioso, Gubby, and the children.

During rounds, you just slaughtered and tried to end it all as quickly as possible. Though they slowly learned your strategies. They survived and kept trying to speak with you.

Eventually though they'd just started ganging up on you and doing... things.

The things would vary. Usually, they'd just talk to you and get upset when you didn't reply. They would always be one of them who let you eat them, though.

You hated them. You hated them all.

And god, you were so fucking done.

Why the hell did it have to be you? Why did you die and be reborn into this world? Why did you have to be found out? Why did they adore you?

So many whys and no answers. You hated it. You hated it so much.

So you were going to put an end to it, though any means necessary.

"..."

You sat alone in your cabin, having asked Mafioso to look after Gubby for a bit. You stared at your unfurled wings, your screen blank as you breathed. As you shook. As you prepared yourself.

Them you spoke.

"Spectre, I want to make another deal."

...

You don't regret what you did.

And you know you never will.

After all, you were never an angel.

You never wanted to be worshipped. You never wanted this attention.

You've dealt with it long enough.

...

You didn't know the Spectre had the ability to do this. But it felt weird.

Everything was different. But you loved having eyes again. And being an entirely new person was nice.

Of course, it came at a cost. Everything did.

But exchanging dozens of yanderes for one was something you enjoyed much more. Even if that yandere was a humanoid version of the Spectre. It would be fine. You knew it would be.

You just took a breath, staring at the clear blue sky in the living world as you glanced over at it.

"Thank you."

It nodded, content.

You smiled, feeling the wind gently caressing your cheeks. You let out a quiet sigh, feeling bliss for the first time in months. Real, genuine bliss.

And from your eyes came tears of joy.

#endri yaps #yandere forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken #yandere forsaken x reader #forsaken isekai au

327 notes · View notes

rhadamanthes · 3 months ago

Text

nerd!reader x fratboy!eren

warnings : cliche cliche cliche Eren calls reader nerd a lot so be prepared, reader wear glasses, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob lot of kisses, praise, doggy style, missionary, boob play, minimal use of y/n

word count : 6,5k

You hate working with men, especially in group projects. They're unserious and careless if it was up to you, you'd rather be doing this work alone but the teacher denied your request to your great demise. Through your years of college you successfully avoid being paired with slackers and frat boys. Today you are now seated next to Eren Jaeger, the ultimate form of a frat beast. You guess this is the end of your lucky run.

The said boy is whisper-yelling in the receiver of his phone earning angry glances from the other student in the library... Has he no etiquette about the appropriate behavior in these places ? Taking off your glasses, you massage your temple, eyes closed, face facing your desk. It's only been a few days since you started this project but you feel like you've been at it for months. The end of the semester approaching means everyone is busy. You had a hard time scheduling this work session with Eren and he's on the phone ? You can't open your eyes now because you know you want to cry.

"Sorry about this" he interrupts your train of thoughts "It's like no one knows how to organize a party when I'm not around" he jokes, opening your eyes you just stare at him with a blank expression. A party ? You're not even halfway through this project due in twelve days and he's thinking about a party ?

"I gotta go, but after the party I'll get to work and send you my part, deal ?"

"You're telling me that you're going to get drunk tonight, analyze the market we are launching our product in and create an adequate publicity?" you ask in disbelief.

"Yes" a smirk grows on his face, picking up your glasses from the wooden table, he positions them in front of his own eyes, without wearing them he looks around the room through the frame. "You know, it's not because you're a nerd with a strict working method that everyone has to follow them" he mokes, eyes falling back on you, the glasses make his eyes look slightly bigger in another context you may have smiled at that but right now you're just pissed. You open your mouth to snap back at him but he places a finger on your lips

"Keep it down this is a library" oh you want to kill him now, the audacity stuns you in your seat. "Listen, I'm in the same class as you, yeah ? Means I am not completely stupid, just trust your teammate ok?" he smiles, sliding your glasses on your nose until his finger comes in contact with the skin between your eyebrows. Without another word he pats the top of your head, turning his heels to make his way to the library exit.

What the fuck ?

A long exhale escapes your lips as you slide back in your chair, well... your mood is ruined you cannot get another word down. gathering your stuff you shove them in your bags, following the same direction your partner took a few minutes ago.

The soft breeze hits your cheeks and your pressure lowers a little, you should take breaks more often, this feels nice. The smell of nicotine hits you and you take a long whiff, god you would love a cigarette right now maybe you can borrow one to the person ? Turning your head toward the source of your desire, here stands no other than Eren. Life is really cruel to you these days. His emerald eyes catch yours and a smile curls around the butt of the cigarette. Snapping your head back, you speed walk toward the dorm, you swear you heard him laugh behind you.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Against all expectation Eren did send his part after the party. It didn't meet your expectations but you're seeing him again today so you'll suggest the modification and smooth it over so it looks like an actual group project and not a patchwork of personal pieces. Eren invited you to his place to continue working, originally he wanted to work at yours but you said no, you wouldn't want his presence in your personal space, it's too intimate and the way he behave like an elephant in a china shop the other days makes you sweat just by thinking of him in your own apartment.

Standing in front of the main door of the two story house you take a deep breath before knocking twice. An unfamiliar face greets you and you're wondering if you had the wrong address, scrambling to apologize you're about to leave when you hear Eren's voice in the back

"Connie, is that my nerd ?" The man in front of you, which you assume is Connie, tilts his head to the side, looking you from head to toe. You clutch your books tighter against your chest in embarrassment.

"Looks like it"

"Come on in " Eren's face appears behind the bald man and you step in the house "Just take off your shoes man" Eren says, squeezing your shoulder. Barely two words in and you're already tense. Why is he so comfortable with physical touch and stupid names?

Nevertheless you oblige, toeing off your converse. You hear a stream of foreign voices coming from your right, following the noises you fall face to face with a group of boys playing mario kart, laughing and screaming at each other. This cannot be real you think, feeling your arms weaken a bit.

"Eren ! If you were busy you should have told me I would've come another day."

"No, that's fine! The boys are here but I'm taking you upstairs, it's where my desk at" he says, sliding his hand over your shoulder, looking down at you. He's close, maybe too much but you don't have it in you to fight, you can feel the warmth of his body despite your clothes. Holding his gaze you only notice now that his hair is down, fully down not half up like he wears so often his dark locks frame his face cascading on his broad shoulders. He is pretty, very pretty, your cheeks heat up a bit, you're about to change subject to get your mind off your stupid thoughts when a voice interrupts you.

"No foolishness upstairs yeah ?" Connie giggles looking back at the two of you, controller in hand.

"Worry about yourself bro being 11th against Floch is stupid" he smirks earning a fit of laughter from the rest of the group. Hand still around your shoulder he leads you up the stairs.

His room is cleaner and tidier than you expected but you're relieved, Placing your book and laptop on his desk you start to organize your thoughts, you have a lot to do today if you want to be ready by next week.

"I've read what you sent me. It is pretty good but I would like to circle back on a few points with you if that's ok ?" you ask, taking place in one of the chairs facing the desk.

"Sure thing, that's why we're here for" he smiles, scraping the chair against the floor in order to sit on it. The screeching noise making your brow furrow, everything about him is so... intense.

The session goes smoothly, Eren is way more focused then back in the library. Maybe he just needs to be in a place he is familiar with to be productive ? Sure he would run downstairs whenever the boys cheered loudly to see what it was about, blow the smoke of his juul straight in your face, stretch and groan like he spent the last decade tied up to this chair. But as long as the work is done you don't think you mind anymore.

"So I'll take care of the visual presentation, next time we see each other we could do a rehearsal of the oral presentation ? What do you think ?" you ask gathering your belongings

"I think we are going to rock this shit" he says, holding up his hand in the air. He's he expecting a high five like you guys are some sort of football team ? You stare at his palm. "Come oooon loosen up little nerd we did such a good job today" he waves his hands and you dap it quickly, shaking your head left to right a small smile growing on your lips. You stand up and he walks you downstairs.

The group of boys sitting on the couch is smaller, no more Connie in sight, you don't recognize a single face.

"Want to stay for dinner ?"

"No I gotta get back home but thanks for the invite"

"Right, go back before the sun goes down and the wolf gets you" he laughs, grabbing your forearm when you lose balance putting your shoes back on.

"Funny guy" you roll your eyes looking up at him. Behind Eren are two silhouettes, two boys that look like twins except one is slightly taller than the other, they still look very similar, upturned nose and slick hair pushed back. They are watching the interaction with curious eyes before whispering to each other. Right, the biggest gossips you know are actually men.

"Don't take everything so personally it was just a joke"

"I know, it was just lame" it's your turn to laugh now, his eyes crinkle letting your forearm go, he opens the door for you.

"Well, see you around i guess" you nod your head stepping out, Eren sends a wink your way before closing the door shut in a forceful manner.... as always.

Walking into the evening sun you still feel the shadow of his touch on your arm, goosebumps raise on your skin and you shove the thought in the back of your head, sliding your airpods in.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The presentation is in two days, you booked one of the private rooms of the library to have a proper rehearsal but something is missing.. Eren is missing, and now you're about to lose your reservation.

"You know the rules, private rooms can not be booked for a single person so I think you have to go" the girl with ashy gray hair says with a fake nice smile.

"Yeah and that's pretty selfish to do, you know ?" the one with the black pigtails add

"I'm telling you my partner is on his way. I'm not hogging this room for myself and I'm not selfish. I booked it!"

You are starting to lose your patience. They've been trying to kick you out of the room for the past five minutes. A familiar silhouette snakes its way to the room and your shoulder relaxes.

"Mina, Hitch" his honeyed voice interrupts.

Both girls turn around and squeals greetings once they realise who it is. He gives each of them a quick side hug, cheeks pressing together "Oh my god Eren i didn't know the room was for you" You mentally check out after that sentence, their smile seems genuine now and you laugh to yourself. So all it takes for them to act normal is a popular boy ? noted for the next time you want to book a private room. Their conversation digresses to something else and you interrupt them, having lost enough time as it is.

"Eren ? Can we get to work please ?" You can't see his eyes because he's wearing sunglasses... indoors but by now you shouldn't even be shocked at this point, his head turns your way.

"Duty call ladies, but it was nice to see you" he flashes them a million dollar smile guiding them out of the room with hands on their lower back. Minna and Hitch turn around saying their goodbye as they speed walk out of the library, arms linked with one another and hushed whispers.

Seated across from you, Eren hasn't taken off his glasses yet and now that he is close, the faint smell of weed gets to you.

"Are you high ?" you ask, clinging to your last hopes. No answer comes from him but the cheshire smile he gives you makes you slump in your seat. "Eren! Is this why you're late ? I almost got kicked out because of you!" you try to keep your tone steady but you fail, voice pitching higher than usual.

"It's not the reason I'm late but yes I smoked." He says finally taking off the shades from his eyes, they're red, making the emerald color of his irises pop out. You won't admit it but... he looks good like that. His hair is fully tied back today, making it impossible to escape his powerful gaze. "And there's no way they would have managed to get you out, you looked ferocious with your eyebrow tight. Mina and Hitch are all bark, no bite. " he snickers, digging his laptop out of his bag.

You don't give him credit for his attempt at loosening up the atmosphere, connecting your laptop to the monitor. The fake presentation goes fairly well, Eren seems distracted, staring at you when he's supposed to be reading his parts. You would throw a pen his way to make him snap out of it, posture straightening up he would continue the flow of speech in such a natural way, eyes still never leaving yours. His gaze is hard to maintain so you would often nod your head, looking down at the powerpoint. Everytime you look back up a smirk was displayed on his face.

After a few more repetitions you decide that you're ready for the real presentation. Eren is waiting for you at the door, bag swinged over his shoulder displaying his beefy arm. You trot up to him so he doesn't have to wait longer. Once outside of the library he's ready to part way but you hold onto his biceps, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Eren please don't smoke before the oral presentation on friday" you must sound pathetic but you don't care you'll probably never speak to him after this project is over. You can see that he is holding back a smile before he opens his mouth.

"You worry way too much my little nerd." Eren leans in for a hug, the same type he gave the two girls earlier, but he lingers a bit longer, his large hand rubbing your back.the embrace is somehow reassuring you take a deep breath patting his back, you choose to believe him if this goes south for any reason you'll give your all in the other discipline to compensate.

"See ? you can actually relax when you want to" he smirks putting his sunglasses back on.

You roll your eyes adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder "Bye" you turn around.

Walking toward the dorms you think about Eren, usually his touch would irritate you, him being so casual with everyone and anything drives you crazy. But today after you saw him being sweet to those girls, you are glad he hugged you too... and the way he refers to you as his nerd is kind of cute. A long exhale escapes your lips : remember that everything will be over after friday. Maybe it's for the better, this way you won't get the wrong idea.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Presentation went well ! The transitions were smooth and the questions asked by the other classmates at the end allowed you to prove your work was not surface level but well rounded and constructed on serious work of research. You had to literally step on eren toes when he would space out, throwing any supply at him is not possible since you were in presence of the entire class and not the privacy of the study room. Other than that, no bumps. It is a huge weight off your back

The oral exam being done also means that you are officially free from any academic pressure... until next semester but still ! You can take time to relax now. And it is exactly what you're doing, sitting on a bench you are catching up on your personal reading that you put aside due to the amount of deadline you were meeting. The three above you provide the perfect amount of shade while you still enjoy the warm breeze of the afternoon. A smile grows on your face as you read more and more of the eternal husband. It's not the book that makes you smile but the simple fact you are able to read it.

Your bliss is cut short when you feel a heavy weight on your foot, ready to brawl you put your book down with vigour.

"It's only payback don't look at me like that" Eren of course it's him "Plus you got out of the classroom at lightning speed i might have thought the last weeks were a fever dream you disappear so quickly"

"I stepped on your toes because you were just staring at me. It was your time to speak! And i left because i had things to do"

"And I was staring because you missed a part of your speech it isn't like you you know ? that's why i was shocked"

"Wait ? I did ? " You mentally replay the whole scene and can't seem to find a crack in it.

"It is so easy to mess with your mind my little nerd" Eren says ruffling your hair while a laugh makes his shoulder shake. You push his hands vigorously.

"Don't joke about this, I'm serious! "

"Soo tense, you know what you need ? To relax, to live a little"

"I was relaxing before you tried to amputate my foot," you said, grabbing your book to emphasize your words.

"Oh come on you can't be serious we just finished exams and you're dipping your nose in that russian freak story ?"

"To each their own" you say opening it back to resume your reading but a thought crosses your mind "What do you do to relax" abandoning the printed pages to look back at him. You immediately regret your question as a devilish smirk grows on his face.

"Would you like to know ? Or better I could show you" Eren says, picking up a leaf that has fallen in your hair, his finger traveling down so he can tilt your chin up. "Come by my place tonight ?"

"You're having a party ?" you ask sheepishly. That is why is known for on campus, parties, girls dying for him to notice them and his amazing athletic performances. You never went to one of his famous parties nor his games. Not your cup of tea but still, you were curious about it. Eren eyes are blank for a moment, fingers caressing your chin. "Yeah, something like that, so are you coming ? To have a proper end to this collaboration."

A last goodbye huh ? If his parties hold up to their reputation you probably won't even see him tonight due to the amount of people that would be present, and you doubt he will come to find you out of all people. You would be lying if you said a part of you doesn't want to go to his house, see what the fuss is all about... You will only stay so many years in college fuck it. "Ok i'll be there" HIs face lights up "Can't wait then" Another million dollar smile sent your way and his trotting off god knows where on campus.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The sun sets faster than you realise, it's time to get ready for tonight, you do not know what to wear, how to do your hair and makeup, walking back and forth between your closet and the full length mirror in your living room you can't decide which dress will make the cut. Mini black backless dress or baby pink strappy dress ? Your mind tends to the black one, it's more casual you'll be more comfortable. Oh my god shoes, what about shoes ? If you call Annie to ask her you know she'll hang up, sighing as you rummage through your tiny shoe storage. The dress is black you might go for black shoes as well. strappy black heels they're toe open, a quick glance at your feet and you can see that your nail polish is still intact. Well looks like you got an outfit.

Opting for a light make up you made a wing eyeliner (surprisingly fast, given the fact that you didn't wear makeup for a longtime due to your exam ) , lip gloss, mascara blush and concealer to hide the bags you accumulated for the last few weeks. You smile at your reflection, it is good to see you this primed, you feel like you again. The glasses would spoil the look so you go for lenses tonight, and for your hair, you let them sits freely around your face and dow your back, the dress being backless would call for an updo but you're having a good hair day so screw it

22:37 reads your phone about time to go. You're feeling a bit anxious but decide to ignore it.

You call an uber and soon enough the car pulls up in the familiar driveway. Thanking the driver as you make your way to the steps, the absence of noise from any kind strikes you, you would've thought that the famous parties at the Yeager house have bass loud enough to feel them in your chest.

Before you have the time to process anymore thoughts, the door swings open revealing Eren, smiling ear to ear, looking at you up and down, his adam's apple bobs up. "Come on in" he says holding his hand out, you take it, climbing up the few stairs that separate the both of you.

"Where is everyone else ?" you ask, surprised to find the house empty.

"They'll be here" he says leading you to the kitchen, hand on the small of your naked back "Tomorrow" he adds with a grin.

"Eren!"

"What ? If I told you tonight was just us would you still have come ? " he asks, filling two cocktail glasses with a thick orange liquid. Eren takes your absence of reaction as an answer. "It's just that we spent all this time together and I never saw you anything other than stressed, I couldn't imagine you going to a party to be honest" he snickers, dipping his lips in the colorful mixture as he slides the other glass your way against the kitchen island. "Look at you nerd,not wearing your glasses, dress and heels on, you look good like that ! "

"You deemed me a nerd because I wear glasses and read books" you grumble looking down at your glass, not picking up his comment on your appearance but it makes your insides mushy.

"Not really, the first time we met you literally explain to me in details the lore of the dance of the dragons because you saw my Daenerys keychain" you close your eyes mortified by the memory "Don't be embarrassed that was fun ! " he hits your shoulder, laughing at your reaction.

You remember it all too well, it was your second year of college, Eren sat next to you, the small classroom got cramped fast and he was late, beggars can't be choosers. It is true the pop Daenerys figure caught your attention and you made small talk and might got carried away but there's no harm in that or so you thought, guess you annoyed him pretty bad if he still remembers it to this day. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you turn your head right, a few days ago this is where his group of friends were playing mario kart, now that the space is empty you got a nice view of his living room.

"You have a fireplace ? Fancy" you remark

"What you don't ?"

"My humble student apartment doesn't allow this type of furniture"

"That is really sad, want me to put it on for you ?" you roll your eyes and he leads you once more around his house, cocktails in hands.

Both of you are kneeling in front of the fireplace,resting on the fluffy white rug. Eren is filling its center with different sizes of wood sticks. You admire his arms flexing and stretching as he moves around. Tonight he is wearing a tight white shirt that highlights his toned body. His dark hair is fully down once more, the ends are a bit damp, making some spot on his shoulder see through, a grey jogger is covering his legs. Damn. He looks good wearing that. Once the branches are neatly placed he adds a fire starter and hands you a box of matches, the long type ones.

"Do me the honour" he smiles, you return his expression, scratching the red tip against the rough side of the box and sticking it to the little white cube, the flame catches quickly and you squeak, retrieving your hand from the chimney. Eren claps at your side praising you in an obnoxious manner. "She did it!" and others exclamations as if you saved the world. You laugh at his antics, eyes fixated on the yellow and orange hues that dance in front of you.

"Did you know that in ancient Rome everyone was peeing at the same place "latrines" with the strong concentration of ammonia in urine a single match would have been enough to blow the whole place up ?" you snort, thinking about the anecdote you learn in latin classes as the fire crackles in front of you.

"No I didn't" you turn to him and he is wearing his signature teasing expression. You know what is thinking already, you can almost hear his voice say it; nerd. Here you go ranting about random facts because you're hampered, and being alone with Eren at his house is the reason. At least you can blame the heat coursing through your body on the nearby fire. You take another sip from your cocktail.

"Is that a sex on the beach ?" you ask to change the subject. Eren nods looking impressed that you know. "I was going to offer you a beer but I have the feeling you would like something more refined."

"Nice catch, I don't like beer, but I have to say I didn't imagine you drinking cute cocktails."

"I'm a versatile guy, and I like to adapt to my guests." he smiles clinking your glasses with his before you both drink some more.

The conversations flow easily with him, against all expectations you guys have a lot of common interests, video games, movies and music taste. You realize that maybe you have judged him as much as he did you. Eren is currently refilling both your glasses in the kitchen as you scroll through his vinyl collection. You asked for a soft drink, feeling like the alcohol and the warm waves that come from the fireplace would be the perfect combo lulling you to sleep.

Your shoes are long forgotten by the fireplace, you are sitting on your ass, feet joint by your side. Eren slides back to your side handing you your drink. Your thighs are flush against each other, the more you were talking through the night, the closer you got, literally. The fireplace gives his face a warm light, accentuating his features, his lips are moving but you cannot decipher a single word. He is so pretty like that, the heat coming from the chimney decouples his scent, lavender and wood. You take a deep breath to ground yourself but you can't push away the need to kiss him.

Leaning into Eren's chest, you press your lips into his, softly, to see if is going to pull back or not. He doesn't, you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, making it impossible for you to squirm away, but you wouldn't even if you could. His lips are intoxicating, he leans more and more into you as his tongue enters your mouth. Desperate for more you set down your glass on the ground, fisting his shirt in your palms. His secondhand goes on your waist securing your place once more as your tongue battles against each other for dominance. Eren breaks the kiss, still holding you close

"Needy much ?" Eren laughs, swiping his tongue on his bottom lips, your eyes don't miss a single bit, you hum absentmindedly. Diving for another kiss this time you let your hands go to his hair pulling slightly to make him open his mouth, your tongue snakes in when he gives you access, he tastes like cherry and orange and a mix of vodka. You freeze

"Are you drunk ?" The last thing you want is to take advantage of the situation. "From two cocktails ? I'm offended" you giggle and he dips his face in your neck, licking and sucking at your skin, his lips are cold, contrasting with the warmth the fire laced your body with, a shiver parcour you and you moan.

Eren travels lower, kissing your breath through the material of your dress "Can I take it off ?" he asks emerald eyes boring through yours you nod, not trusting your voice under his intense gaze. He peels the black cloth of your shoulders letting it sit on your belly. "Who would've thought my nerd has those pretty little tits" he muses fondling them in his large hands. "Do you even know my name ?" you tempt. "Of course I do, y/n" he murmurs, kissing the side of your boob, "My beautiful y/n" he adds, taking your nipple in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

Fuck, you should have shut up, your name rolling of his tongue ties your stomach in knots. You exhale loudly arching your back to push more skin into his mouth. You allow yourself to close your eyes, head falling back as your hand travels south to your crotch, fingers toying with your clit. Eren grunts against your areola at the sight, his own fingers entering your wet cavern, you gasp at the intrusion. "Teamwork baby we're used to this" he groans before switching to your other breast. The circular motion you're self inflicting on your bundle of nerves is slowly making you unwind. On his side Eren is curling his digits inside your cunt, in search for the spongy spot that is going to make you mewl.

You do your best to hold back your moans not wanting to sound like a desperate mess, but another precise curl of his fingers and there you are, whining and thrashing around him uncontrollably. Eren bites your nipple as you slowly come to your senses opening your eyes, you find his emerald orbs staring back at you amused. "That was quite a show" he directs his glistening digits to his mouth, cleaning them from any remaining stickiness. You nudge him with your foot as your eyes travel to his needy bulge, if anything this only makes you want the full Eren Yeager experience.

Tugging at his waistband you grab his cock from the confine of his sweatpant, he's not wearing any underwear, you chuckle. "Don't slutshame me, you weren't wearing anything either " he laughs, brushing the hair out of your face. "I didn't say anything" you joke planting kisses on his length, you can tell it is not fully hard, which is quite concerning because it's almost the size of your face already but you can take a challenge, and you want to make him hard without putting it in your mouth yet. So it is exactly what you do, leaving a trail of kisses on his base, his tip, his balls and his impressive length.

"You're killing me there y/n" he breathes, lifting his hips off the ground in an attempt to get more friction,what a greedy man he is. But you don't have it in you to tease him any more. Parting your lips you slowly suck the head of his cock in your mouth, the newfound sensation makes him hiss. You circle your tongue around his head, flicking it on his sensitive slit. Once your jaw has relaxed you work more and more of his length inside between your lips, bobbing your head up and down. You hollow your cheeks, working what doesn't fit in your mouth with your hands. His cock is heavy on your tongue, you missed this sensation, moaning around him, you quicken your pace.

"Fuck, you read a book to give head this good ?" he half laughs half moans. He's not far from the truth, you used to read erotic types of books when you were younger but he doesn't need to know that. Having your mouth full you can't answer him so you decide to sink your teeth lightly on his skin. "Shit baby, I'm joking!" he groans but you can tell it's not hurting him, relaxing your jaw you resume your activity, the sloppy noise filling the room alongside the fire cracking next to you . "Right, just like, that I love it when you're nice to me" his hips start to thrust up and you let him fuck your mouth, slacking your jaw to the max.

HIs breath is getting more and more ragged as he lets curses slip past his lips. He's about to cum and you can't wait to know what he tastes like. His hands come to each side of your face lifting you off his penis.

"Eren ?" you mumble, disappointed you haven't gone to the end. He pecks your lips multiple time "Another time baby I want to fuck that little pussy okay ?" you nod, mind too fuzzy to protest. Lowering your upper body onto the carpet Eren hikes your bottom onto his lap. He's looking intently at your pussy before you can feel embarrassed. He parts your entrance with both of his thumb, looking at the arousal ripping out of it. "Cute" he mumbles before wetting his thumb with his tongue and rumbing at your clit a few times. The action makes your cheeks burn, you won't be able to use this move with your books without thinking about this now, you groan, closing your eyes.

"Turn around for me baby" he demands, squeezing your thigh, you happily oblige, knees sinking onto the fluffy rug you arch your back the best you can so he can have a good sight. You feel him kissing your entrance a few times just like he did your lips before and restrain yourself not to back on his face. Soon enough his tip prod at your entrance and you sway your hips in anticipation. "Come on Eren please" you mewl looking back at him. Locking his eyes with yours he let his cock fill you up, inch by inch, both your mouths part when he's fully inside. Your brows are tight on your forehead when he starts to ram into your pussy.

You close your eyes in bliss, cheek resting against the rug and mouth hanging low. You knew you were going to have fun when you saw what he was packing, but you couldn't imagine him stretching you this good. "That's what you needed y/n ? My cock inside of you to turn that big brain off ?" he rasps,fingers digging in your hips. "Yes Eren thank you" you cry, gripping the soft material under you. restreint is no longer a concern, each of his thrust knocks the air out of your lung filling the room with your lewd moans. "Fuck I needed that too my little nerd, driving me crazy since the first day at the librabry". His chest collapses on top of you, making you lay flat on the ground. "Looking so fucking pretty when you want to cry" he purrs, kissing your ear and jaw.

Was he onto you since day one ? That would explain his attitude towards you, the thought makes you clench around him. A swear slips from his lips directly into your ear. One of his arm snakes under your body in between your breasts to finally grab your jaw. "Tell me how that feels baby" he demands, ramming into you deeper each time.

"Feelsgoodbaby" your words are slurred because of his grip. "Fuck, turn around I want to cum looking at that face" despite asking, he's the one manhandling you, he position you on your back covering your face in kisses as he stoke his cock a few time befaore entering you once again, "Don't hide or I'll stop" he threatens feeling your face nooking in his neck. "No, Eren don't stop " you pathetically whine, setting your head back down. The last thing you want is for him to stop now, you need the release, you need it bad. "Good girl" he kisses your cheek, linking your hands with each other, fingers intertwined.

If you didn't know better, you would've thought he has feelings for you, his forehead is resting against yours, eyes chasing yours, holding hands, this is all too intimate, so much for not getting the wrong idea. Eren's hair dangles in your face, shading the whole word from this moment, right now it's you and him. Your emotions are all over the place and you feel good, so good. A familiar knot forms in your lower belly and you know you're not going to last long, not with the way he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

"Eren can I cum please ? " you don't know why you ask but you do "Fuck, my little nerd is so polite, go ahead make a mess" His thrust are strong now and it's all you need to unravel around his dick as you thank him over and over again. Your body goes limp on the floor, abandoning your hands Eren circles your waist head buried between your breasts as he uses your body to reach his own high, grunting like an animal. Feeling his teeth sink into your skin you know it's about seconds before he shoots his semen inside of your cunt. You feel it dripping down your hole as Eren soothes the bite mark with his tongue.

Your hand goes to his hair, caressing as his breath slowly replenishes.

"You're coming to the party tomorrow" he asks, eyes hazy looking up at you. That's what he's thinking after an sex you wonder? "I don't know, is it going to end like tonight ?" "I can only hope" he smiles resting his cheek against your belly. "Well, I can be convinced" looking into the crackling fire you pray he can't hear how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

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vaquerolvr · 6 months ago

Note

so… if we have your sexuality hcs what about their types?

(and maybe how would they approach their future s/o? maybe with a letter or just straight up “i like you”)

hope you’re doing good and staying hydrated

-🍂

i tried to focus on personality rather than physical appearance so idk if it’s exactly what you wanted. sorry if it sucks, i am trapped in a car again. Free Me.

price

his type

dilf/milf enjoyer

he wants someone who’s caring but also independent

who can handle themselves when he runs off on missions for weeks at a time

how he’d ask you out

is weirdly blunt about it

sounds like he’s negotiating a business deal

(the overly formal language is to hide that he’s nervous)

gaz

his type

people who don’t take things too seriously

carefree but not childish yknow?

how he’d ask you out

smooth af

has you laughing and blushing so much that you don’t even realize you’ve agreed to anything

until you’re alone later and you’re like “wait did he mean a friend date or a Date-“

ghost

his type

not picky about appearances, focuses more on personality

someone who has their shit together because he definitely doesn’t

how he’d ask you out

doesn’t

bottles his feelings up until he dies

being serious, it would take literal years because even if you were giving him the clearest signs that you like him, he’d still gaslight himself into thinking you’re not attracted to him

it would probably take one of the guys pushing him into it and he’d be fully expecting you to reject him

soap

his type

women who look like they can kill him

most important thing for him is hygiene/self-care

not necessarily a bodybuilder,, just like someone who takes care of themselves

idk how to explain this

how he’d ask you out

just blurts it out randomly

you don’t take him seriously at first

so he gets friend-zoned like ten times before you realize he’s serious and go out with him

alejandro

his type

i hate to say it but he’s definitely one of those guys who likes to be coddled

so someone who’s caring and affectionate (and clingy, like him)

how he’d ask you out

surprisingly sweet about it

he falls hard and fast and he doesn’t want you to underestimate how much he cares about this/you

he’s a fan of big gestures

so he brings mariachi and one of those big ass bouquets to your house

rudy

his type

just,,, someone who’s not dumb

he deals with alejandro’s antics enough

he just wants someone with common sense

how he’d ask you out

i think he’s a bit old fashioned

so he spends weeks ‘courting’ you before actually making a move

similar to alejandro but he does it somewhere private so there’s no pressure (or nosy neighbors recording)

graves

his type

emotionally vulnerable people who rely on him

WHAT WHO SAID THAT

tbh i don’t think he has a ‘type’

he just likes what he likes

but if he had to pick, he prefers partners with experience

how he’d ask you out

again: doesn’t

you just wake up one day and realize you’ve been dating him for the past two years

makarov

his type

confidence

doesn’t care what you look like, having a confident demeanor is enough to catch his eye

how he’d ask you out

kidnapping someone counts as asking them out, right?

keegan

his type

alternative fashion (specifically goths)

personality wise, someone who’s not afraid to call him on his shit/speak up in general

how he’d ask you out

nothing fancy, just casually asks one day

is really nonchalant about it but nearly throws up from excitement when you say yes

nikolai

his type

he needs someone who matches his freak

and by that i mean, someone who won’t even blink if he comes home with 5 stray cats one day

so just someone who’s generally chill and laidback

how he’d ask you out

hear me out-

you spend months agonizing over whether you’re just friends or if he likes you

and when you finally ask him, he’s just “wdym do i like you? haven’t we been dating for the past four months??”

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 x reader #cod headcanons #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rudy parra x reader #phillip graves x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #keegan p russ x reader #nikolai x reader

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solxamber · 9 months ago

Note

Can't wait to request Skully boy, but let's do a part 3 of White Rabbit!Reader since the overblot aftermath is usually somewhat of a positive effect on the overblot person, I want it to do the opposite to White Rabbit!Reader since before their overblot, they were always jumpy, timid and anxious.

Now, I kind of want them to be like this half the time whenever someone bothers them:

Aftermath of White Rabbit! Reader's Overblot

Characters: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya

Original White rabbit! reader ask ; White rabbit! reader overblot ask

thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is probably the first to notice the difference. While he usually relied on your obedience to the Queen's rules, your newfound bluntness shocks him. He asks you to organize paperwork, expecting the usual nervous compliance, but instead, you sigh and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it, don’t have a heart attack.” Riddle is speechless for a moment, his face flushing. Though he won’t admit it, he’s at a loss. “What… happened to you?”

Trey Clover

Trey has always been the calm, stable figure in your life, a grounding presence in Heartslabyul. But even he’s taken aback by your sudden shift. “You’re not the same nervous bunny I’m used to,” he remarks when you snap at someone who’d pushed you too far. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Guess I finally had enough.” Trey offers a small, understanding smile, knowing all too well the pressures of keeping up appearances. “If you need to blow off steam, my kitchen’s always open. Just don’t burn out.”

Cater Diamond

Cater, who usually plays things off with a lighthearted comment or a perfectly timed selfie, can sense the change in your mood. "Whoa, who flipped the switch on you, bunny?" he jokes, holding up his phone for another pic. You barely glance his way, grumbling, "Put that away before I snap." Cater's smile falters briefly, unused to you being so short with him. "Yikes. Someone's in need of a chill day. Maybe a group selfie will help?" He backs off but keeps an eye on you, curious how long this new attitude will last.

Ace Trappola

Ace is taken aback but more intrigued than anything. He used to enjoy teasing you for fun, always expecting a shy or flustered response. Now, you roll your eyes and say, “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Ace laughs nervously but is secretly impressed by your sass. “Hey, I liked you better when you were jumpy. You were easier to mess with.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce feels bad. He didn’t realize how much the teasing had affected you until now. He approaches cautiously, noticing your new, weary demeanor. When he tries to help, offering to carry something, you grumble, “I’ve got it, I’m not helpless.” Deuce scratches his head, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’m sorry if we pushed you too hard.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona finds your transformation amusing at first. As one of the few prey beastmen in the school, he always enjoyed calling you "herbivore." But now, when you meet his taunts with a dry “Yeah, real original, Leona,” he raises an eyebrow, both impressed and a little curious. “Finally got some backbone, huh? Good. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just ‘cause you stopped cowering.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is caught off guard by how done you seem with everything. He tries to pass off some chores, as usual, but you just give him a deadpan look. “Do I look like your personal assistant?” Ruggie chuckles nervously. “Whoa, you’ve changed. Guess I’ll just… do it myself, then. Heh.”

Jack Howl

Jack, being the most straightforward, notices something is wrong immediately. He never liked the way people teased you, and now your exhaustion worries him. “You don’t look so good. Is there something I can help with?” When you respond with a tired “Just let me get through the day, Jack,” he frowns, unsure how to handle this new side of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul appreciates how compliant you were before, especially when he needed help with contracts or deals. Now, your indifference makes his eye twitch. “Care to assist with a little… business?” he asks. “Do it yourself, Ashengrotto,” you reply without even looking up. Azul’s smile falters. “How… unfortunate.”

Jade Leech

Jade enjoys your shift in attitude. To him, it’s fascinating to see prey become more assertive. “My, my, you’ve grown quite bold, haven’t you?” he muses. You don’t even glance his way, muttering, “Bold? I’m just tired.” Jade chuckles, intrigued. “I do hope that exhaustion won’t stop you from keeping things interesting.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd used to love squishing you just to see you jump. Now, when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and you groan, “Not now, Floyd,” he pouts. “You’re no fun anymore, Little Rabbit. Bring back the scaredy-cat!” He sulks but also seems weirdly fascinated by your new attitude, poking you to see if he can get a reaction.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s sunny disposition remains unchanged, but even he notices that something’s off. He invites you to join a party, only for you to respond, “I’m not in the mood.” Kalim blinks, genuinely concerned. “Hey, is everything okay? You always used to come… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is more analytical about your change. He senses something deeper at play and approaches cautiously. “You’re different now,” he observes. “No kidding,” you mutter, pushing past him. Jamil hums thoughtfully, wondering if there’s something he can learn from your overblot experience—or if it’s just another thing he needs to keep an eye on.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is used to elegance, control, and composure, so your new bluntness strikes him as unbecoming. “You’re really letting yourself go,” he comments sharply. You simply stare at him, unbothered, and say, “And you care because?” Vil frowns, his perfectly crafted facade slipping for a second. “Honestly, how disappointing.”

Rook Hunt

Rook finds the change in you utterly fascinating. “Ah, the hunted has become a hunter in their own right! Magnifique!” You stare at him with exhausted eyes, muttering, “I’m just trying to get through the day, Rook.” He laughs, completely unfazed by your exhaustion. “Every day with you is an adventure, mon lapin!”

Epel Felmier

Epel, who never liked being underestimated, gets where you’re coming from. He nudges you with a grin. “Bet you’re sick of everyone treating you like you’re fragile, huh?” You shrug tiredly, “Sick of a lot of things.” Epel chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. Don’t let ‘em push you around anymore.”

Idia Shroud

Idia is a little freaked out by your change. You used to be predictable, easy to understand—now? Not so much. He glances at you from behind his tablet and mumbles, “Uh… you okay? You seem… different.” When you snap back, “What do you think?” Idia recoils, instantly regretting his question. “Yikes… never mind…”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho, ever the optimist, immediately notices your shift in behavior and tries to cheer you up in his own enthusiastic way. “I can analyze your stress levels! Maybe we can find a way to relax together!” he offers, his eyes lighting up with data scans. You give him a tired look and sigh, “Thanks, but I just want to be left alone.” Ortho frowns, his usual cheerful energy dimming. “Okay… but remember, I’m always here if you need help!” He can’t quite figure out how to help you, but he makes a mental note to keep monitoring your well-being.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus can feel the weight of your exhaustion and frustration. He’s perceptive and doesn’t need to hear you say much to understand how deeply the overblot has affected you. “You carry a heavy burden now,” he says quietly. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a choice.” Malleus watches you with a somber gaze. “You do. You always have a choice.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is concerned but also intrigued by your sudden shift. “My, you’ve grown up in such a short time,” he teases, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Not sure if that’s a good thing,” you mutter. Lilia’s eyes narrow. “Be careful not to lose yourself, young one. This world can be… unforgiving.”

Silver

Silver, ever the calm and observant knight, is probably the least surprised by your change in demeanor. He approaches cautiously, noticing your exhaustion even before you speak. “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t push yourself too hard,” he advises softly. When you sigh and mutter, “I’m just tired, Silver,” he nods, understanding in his quiet way. “If you ever need to rest, I’ll stand guard for you.” He’s not one to pry but offers his silent support.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is offended by your change in attitude, especially since you no longer respond as deferentially as you used to. “What happened to your respect for authority?” he barks. You shoot him an irritated glare. “Respect is earned, not given.” Sebek’s jaw drops, his mind struggling to compute your audacity.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo has always had a certain disdain for the chaotic nature of magic, and as someone who seemed so harmless before, you were never a particular blip on his radar.

But after your overblot, when you return to a more cynical, jaded version of yourself, Rollo is... intrigued. “I see you’ve shed your naïveté,” he comments one day when you cross paths, eyeing your newfound sharpness.

You sigh and rub your temples, muttering, “I’m too tired for whatever lecture you’re about to give me, Rollo.” He raises an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Perhaps you’ve come to realize that order, after all, must be maintained by force. Even for someone like you.” His words are clipped, but there’s almost a sense of kinship as he recognizes the exhaustion that comes from living within strict expectations.

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is disheartened by your exhaustion. He approaches you with genuine concern, his wide, innocent eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry if anyone’s been making things harder for you,” he says softly. “You don’t deserve that.” You give him a tired smile, “It’s fine. People just… don’t know when to stop.” Neige nods. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Che’nya

Che’nya finds your new personality endlessly amusing. “My, my! You’ve finally joined the cynical side of Wonderland!” he teases, popping in and out of view. You roll your eyes, unimpressed. “I’m too tired for your games, Che’nya.” He grins, floating above you. “That’s what makes it so fun, friend.”

Crowley

Crowley had always seen you as one of the more manageable students—timid, hardworking, and, most importantly, someone who didn’t cause him headaches. But after your overblot? Let’s just say he’s... mildly concerned. “My dear White Rabbit, surely you don’t mean to talk to your esteemed headmaster in such a disrespectful tone!” he blusters, feathers metaphorically ruffled when you brush past one of his long-winded speeches with an eye roll and, “Please, for the love of Seven, just get to the point.” Crowley is left gaping, unsure whether he should reprimand you or seek out some sympathy for your newly discovered spine.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is quick to notice your shift in attitude and respects your newfound bluntness—though only to a point. “You’ve finally found some grit,” he comments, his voice sharp as usual. “Good. Just don’t let it cloud your judgment.” You nod wearily, “I’m way past judgment.”

Mozus Trein

Trein raises an eyebrow at your attitude shift but doesn’t comment much. He simply sighs, “I hope you’re not letting stress affect your studies.” You shrug. “Stress is part of the deal, Professor.”

Sam

Sam’s sharp eye notices the change immediately when you stroll into his shop, a bit of a scowl replacing your usual fidgety demeanor. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bunny. What’s got you hoppin’ mad today?” he teases lightly, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

But when you shoot him a tired look and say, “Sam, please, just give me the potion before I scream,” he lets out a low whistle. “Whoa now, partner! You’re wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box! If anyone knows about stress, it’s me—how ‘bout I toss in some tea on the house?” He’s concerned, but he can’t resist a little ribbing, hoping to ease your frustration.

Masterlist

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ellswritings · 1 month ago

Text

You Never Noticed

Emotional cheater!Cody Rhodes/Runnels x reader

Part 2

TW: Emotional cheating on Cody’s end. Lots of angst. Heartbreak. Use of real names. I know a lot yall wanted another Cody imagine, and I’m sure this isn’t what was wanted, but I’m in a sad mood 🫠.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

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Being the quarterback of the company wasn’t easy. Cody always wanted to be at the center of it all. To fight for his legacy, his family’s legacy, to show the people he was their champion. He threw himself into his work, never giving up even when things seemed stacked against him.

That’s one of the many things that drew Y/N to him in the first place. They had bumped into each other years before when Y/N herself was a wrestler in the company. However, accidents happen, and when she broke her back after a botched belly to back suplex from Charlotte Flair, returning in-ring became nothing but a fever dream.

Thankfully, she had created a big enough name for herself to be offered the general manager position on SmackDown. It broke her heart to lose what she loved, but she learned to love her new role as well.

But when Cody Runnels came back to the company, that’s when her life changed. It started off slow, but The American Nightmare was quick to charm the normally professional and witty GM.

When they started dating, no one was surprised. In fact, it was almost expected. They never were unprofessional onscreen, but everyone knew how they felt about each other. They were easily the blueprint to a perfect relationship, well, for the first year or so at least.

The cracks started forming a few months ago. It originated with him coming home or back to their shared hotel rooms later than expected. Then it turned into him flaking on plans they had made before shows to go to the arena early. Him choosing to go to the gym alone instead of with her. Forgetting important events that meant something to her. To even avoiding her at work because he was so “busy.”

For a while, Y/N understood. She knew what kind of pressure he was under. She was under it once too. She never took it personally until she heard him walk into their hotel room late one night, clearly on the phone with someone.

His voice was soft, delicate, the one she hadn’t heard in months. The one that used to be reserved for her. His infectious laugh was low and gravelly, no doubt trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t wake her. He just didn’t know she never slept until she knew he was back.

At that point, she wished she would have been asleep. Then maybe she wouldn’t have had to deal with that gut wrenching feeling hearing him talk so freely with someone who wasn’t her. Her heart wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. That maybe he was talking to his mom or his sister, the two most important women in his life. But her mind knew better.

He was still there with her physically, but it’s clear his mind was somewhere else. Y/N didn’t know how to approach him anymore. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it so it wouldn’t come off as an accusation. It terrified her to accuse him of something he might not even be doing, but it’s eating her alive not to know if her anxieties are right.

She’s never been one to let her personal life impact her work, but watching the man she gave everything to, gave everything up for, moved to a completely different state away from her family just so they could be together, it messed with her mind. She didn’t trust easily, she never has. But with Cody, it was easy. She let her guard down for him but now it feels like he doesn’t even know her at all.

Or maybe he doesn’t want to. Not anymore.

Y/N ran a hand over her face in frustration as she read over another email from a faceless exec who has never even stepped foot into one of their training centers, telling her that new releases would be coming up soon. This was the one part of the job she hated. She was expected to pull up numbers and hand them over to Paul so the board could decide who they wanted to cut from the company.

Having to look at someone who she’s no doubt known for years and let them know they would be losing their job had to be the hardest thing in the world. And having her internal struggle with Cody only made it that much more stressful.

A knock sounded on her office door, forcing her to look up. “Come in,” she tells whoever is trying to get her attention.

“Hey Y/N,” Andrew Galloway’s Scottish accent filled her office as he slowly opened the door. He popped only his head in, keeping the rest of his body outside as if he was afraid of interrupting her. “Someone said you wanted to see me?”

“Hey Drew,” Y/N smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, come in.” She moves some scattered papers out of the way as the six foot five male enters, shutting the door respectfully behind him. Y/N continues shuffling around. Anyone else would’ve thought it was just her reorganizing, but Drew knew her better than that. He could see something was bothering her. It had started a while back when he first noticed, but Y/N’s always been independent. She doesn’t need or want anyone’s help. However, it still concerned him to see his close friend in such a state.

“I just wanted to call you in here and go over some last minute changes with the script for you and Luis’ segment,” she huffs, finally taking her seat again. Once she meets his eyes though, he can visibly see how tired she is. She may not have any bags under her eyes, but it’s not hard to tell there’s something taking a toll on her.

Drew didn’t look down at the pages.

Not immediately, anyway.

His gaze stayed fixed on her—on the hollow look in her eyes, the tightness in her jaw, the way her knuckles paled from how hard she was gripping the edge of her desk. He couldn’t remember the last time she smiled like she meant it. Not in weeks. Maybe longer.

Y/N tapped her pen twice against the table, the rhythmic click sharp against the low hum of the office lights. “It’s just minor stuff, nothing crazy. I moved you guys a bit earlier so it flows better after the tag match. I’ve already run it by him, and he’s good with it. I just wanted you in the loop.”

She sounded normal—too normal. Polished, professional. Like nothing in the world was wrong. But her voice had that practiced crispness people used when they were hiding behind it.

Drew nodded slowly, still not touching the papers. “Got it.”

She looked back down at the emails in front of her, pretending to scroll, eyes darting too quickly across the screen to be reading. Her leg bounced beneath the desk. The pen clicked again.

He hated seeing her like this. Like she was trying to convince herself she could just power through whatever storm she was drowning in.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” he asked, voice softer than usual, cutting through the quiet.

That made her pause. The pen stopped. Her eyes flicked up to him.

She smiled—too fast, too forced. “What? Of course I have. Just a long week. You know how it is before a PLE.”

Drew tilted his head, unimpressed. “You forget how long I’ve known you?”

She laughed, but it was paper-thin. “I’m fine, Drew.”

She wasn’t. Not even close.

Her skin was a shade paler than usual, eyes rimmed faintly in red like she hadn’t cried but had come dangerously close. There was a weariness to her movements, like even reaching for her water bottle took effort.

He let his eyes drift down—nails chewed to the quick, the thin crescent indents in her palms from where she’d clearly been clenching her fists too tight for too long. And that photo frame. The Polaroid. Her and Cody. Still facedown, like she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

The most damning thing, though, wasn’t the physical evidence. It was the absence of something she used to carry without even trying: light.

She used to walk into rooms and make people feel like they belonged. She used to throw out quick-witted banter with a glint in her eye and fire in her chest. She used to look at him—Cody—with this soft, unshakeable kind of love that made people jealous.

Now, all anyone saw in her eyes when he was around was quiet disdain.

A cooling resentment. The kind that built slowly, in silence, like snow on a rooftop just waiting to collapse.

And Cody didn’t even seem to notice.

“I know it’s not my business,” Drew said finally, voice firmer now, “but you should know you’re not fooling anybody.”

Y/N’s smile faded, her jaw flexing as she stared at a spot on her desk. “There’s nothing going on,” she murmured. “Really.”

“Bullshite.”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing in offense—but Drew wasn’t backing down. “You think I don’t see it? You’ve gone quiet, you hardly eat, and you used to look at him like he hung the bloody moon. Now I see you in catering pretending not to notice when he walks in. And when you do look at him, it’s like your chest physically aches.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, eyes glossy.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“I know you, Y/N. Better than you think. You keep everything bottled in until it eats you alive.” Drew stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Whatever’s going on between you and Cody… don’t let it break you before you’ve had a chance to fight back.”

“I am fighting,” she snapped quietly, voice cracking. “I have been. Every single day. But you can’t fight someone who won’t meet you halfway.”

Silence stretched between them.

Drew’s jaw clenched as he looked down at her—shoulders drawn up like she was holding her world together with both hands, just waiting for one more wrong word to make it all collapse.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he admitted, eyes softening. “You don’t deserve to become a stranger to yourself just because someone else forgot who you are.”

Y/N’s eyes stung. She bit her lip hard enough to leave a mark. “I just want it to go back to the way it was. Before all of this. Before I had to wonder if I was enough.”

“You are enough. Always were.”

She closed her eyes. “Doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

Drew let that sit there for a moment before stepping back, nodding quietly, as if he understood all too well.

“If you ever need someone to remind you who the hell you are, you know where to find me.”

Then, after one last glance at the photo frame, he left.

The second Drew stepped out of Y/N’s office, the door clicking shut behind him, a breath left his chest that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His footsteps echoed faintly down the hall, the weight of everything she didn’t say pressing down harder than the words she had managed to get out.

He had known something was wrong.

But now, he was certain: she was breaking. Quietly. Elegantly. In that terrifying way strong people fall apart—only when no one’s looking.

Drew didn’t go back to the locker room. Didn’t bother with the script changes she’d handed him. He was already moving, heading toward catering where he knew he’d find the one person who could pry open what Y/N kept sealed shut: Jessica Woynilko.

He found her perched at a table, platinum hair swept over one shoulder, AirPods in and phone in hand as she scrolled absently through social media. Her heels were kicked off beneath her chair, a cup of iced coffee melting slowly in front of her.

“Jess.”

She glanced up, brow lifting in surprise as she pulled one earbud out. “Hey. What’s up?”

Drew didn’t waste time. “It’s Y/N.”

That got her attention.

She straightened immediately, her playful ease vanishing in an instant. “What about her?”

“She’s not okay.”

Jessica blinked, slowly setting her phone down, the full weight of his tone sinking in. “What do you mean?”

Drew folded his arms, lowering his voice. “She’s trying to act like everything’s normal, but she’s worn down to the bone. Said she’s sleeping, but her hands are shaking. Said she’s eating, but I doubt she’s had more than coffee all day. That photo of her and Cody’s been facedown for who knows how long.”

Jessica’s expression hardened.

She had been watching it too, from a distance. The way Y/N stopped sitting with them at catering. The way she started staying back in her office between segments. How she laughed less. Smiled less. How her presence had dimmed.

But hearing it confirmed by someone as observant as Drew made it all feel real. Tangible.

“Has he done something?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Drew admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s killing her. She won’t say it, not yet. But you can see it in the way she moves. Like she’s carrying the weight of both of them alone.”

Jessica stood up, already gathering her things. “Where is she now?”

“In her office. But she’s got that look—the one she gets when she’s on the edge but doesn’t want anyone to see it.”

Jessica nodded, jaw set. “Then I won’t let her be alone.”

She slipped her heels back on and tossed her empty coffee into the bin before brushing past Drew.

“Oh, and Jess?”

She turned halfway back.

“If it is Cody, which I’m sure it is,” Drew added, his voice lower now, clipped and tight, “I don’t care how good his intentions were. If he let her get like this without noticing… he doesn’t deserve to be near her.”

Tiffany’s eyes flashed. “He won’t be. Not unless she says he can.”

Then she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Drew standing there, tension still coiled in his chest.

Because if there was one thing more dangerous than a woman hurt—it was the people who loved her stepping in to pick up the pieces.

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The silence in her office had become a living thing.

It breathed alongside her, settled into her bones, wrapped around her like smoke. The faint hum of the computer, the gentle tick of the wall clock—none of it pierced the fog in her mind.

Y/N stared blankly at the monitor in front of her. The email she was meant to be responding to blurred out of focus, the cursor blinking endlessly like a reminder she was still here. Still functioning.

Except she wasn’t. Not really.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, unmoving, until her vision glazed. Her gaze dropped to the framed photo still facedown beside her mousepad. She reached for it but stopped halfway, her hand curling into a soft fist instead.

And just like that, she was somewhere else.

The hotel room was dimly lit by the lamp beside the bed, casting long shadows on the carpet. Y/N stood frozen by the sink, toothbrush idle in her hand, her eyes locked on the soft glow of Cody’s phone screen across the room.

She hadn't meant to look.

She wasn’t the type to snoop. She respected privacy—respected him. But she’d heard the soft chime. That familiar vibration against the wood. And when she glanced over, her stomach dropped.

Madeline.

A newer girl on RAW. Bright-eyed. Athletic. Still finding her place. Cody had mentioned her in passing before.

Her message was right there on the lock screen.

"Kinda missed you today. You gonna come say hi before call time tomorrow? You owe me a story from the plane 😘"

Y/N didn’t move for a moment. The emoji. The tone. The casual warmth. It didn’t scream affair, but it whispered something close. Something intimate. Something that used to belong to her.

The bathroom light behind her flicked off with a quiet snap.

“Hey babe,” Cody said as he stepped out, rubbing a towel through his hair, shirtless, relaxed.

She didn’t respond right away.

“Cody,” she said finally, slowly. “Why’s Madeline texting you this late?”

He paused—half a beat too long. She noticed. She always noticed.

He glanced toward the phone, saw the still-lit message, and his jaw tensed before he smoothed it away. “She’s just reaching out as one of the newbies to talk to veterans about ring advice” he said easily, shrugging like it meant nothing. “She’s cool. Young. Ambitious. Reminds me of what it was like to be starting out.”

Y/N turned slightly toward him, voice quiet but steady. “Didn’t seem like she was messaging you for advice. Sounded a little… personal.”

He chuckled. “She’s just friendly.”

“Cody…” Her fingers tightened on the counter edge. “That’s not how it reads. She misses you. Wants stories from the plane. Why is she comfortable texting you like that?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise his voice.

“Because she gets it. She understands what this life is. The pressure. The grind. She’s in it. Every day. She’s on the road. She’s tired and sore and still has to smile through press.”

He stepped closer. “You used to get it, too.”

That cut deeper than anything else. He said it like she’d aged out of relevance. Like her pain, her past, her sacrifice didn’t qualify anymore.

“I do get it,” she said, her voice cracking despite herself. “You think because I wear heels and book segments now that I forgot what it’s like to wake up sore, to miss birthdays, to be exhausted but still go out there and perform?”

He looked at her, jaw flexing. “It’s not the same anymore, Y/N.”

She blinked, as if struck.

“You’re not active,” he continued. “You don’t train the way we do now. You don’t have to get in the ring and cut a promo with jetlag, or eat a clothesline ten minutes after touching down in a new city. You just don’t… live it the way we do anymore.”

We.

Him and Madeline.

Not them—not anymore.

She swallowed, hard, her throat suddenly raw. “So that’s what this is about? You have more in common with her now?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples, already tired of the conversation. “No, it’s not like that. You’re twisting it.”

“I’m not twisting anything. I’m just trying to understand why you don’t look at me like I matter anymore.”

That made him pause. But only briefly.

He reached out, pulled her into a loose embrace, resting his chin on top of her head.

“You do matter,” he murmured, kissing her temple. “You always will. Don’t let your head make up stuff that isn’t real.”

But it was real.

His arms were around her, but his mind was somewhere else. Maybe still in the arena. Maybe still with her. His kiss didn’t linger. His hold didn’t tighten. And when he pulled away, it felt like a relief for him—not her.

She stood in the bathroom doorway after he turned off the light and crawled into bed, feeling hollow.

Because that’s when she knew.

It wasn’t physical.

But she’d already lost him.

He didn’t need to touch Madeline for it to count.

He’d already given her what used to be sacred—his softest voice, his attention, his light.

Back in her office, Y/N blinked hard, pulling herself out of the memory. Her hands were clenched in her lap, nails leaving new crescent shapes in her skin.

She used to wake up every morning excited to see him. To hear his voice. To be in the same room.

Now, when people looked at her, they didn’t see that woman anymore.

They didn’t see the softness, the warmth, the light that used to follow her like a second skin.

They just saw a woman slowly disappearing.

They saw disgust in her eyes when he spoke. And maybe it wasn’t even for him. Maybe it was for herself—for still loving a man who didn’t see her anymore.

And then a knock pulled her violently out of her own head.

“Y/N?” Jessica’s voice.

She took a shaky breath. “Come in.”

The door eased open and Tiffany stepped in quietly, her signature pink heels unusually muted against the floor, as if she was trying not to startle her. Her usual bright energy was toned down, carefully measured.

Y/N didn’t look up at first. She was still staring down at her hands, silently willing herself to get it together before she had to.

“Hey…” Jessica said gently, closing the door behind her.

Y/N’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat quickly and forced her voice to stay even. “Hey. Something wrong with your segment?”

Jessica blinked, then let out a soft, exhale-laugh. “No. Not a thing. Andrew just mentioned you seemed a little… off today, so I figured I’d check in.”

Y/N’s jaw tensed. “Drew’s being dramatic,” she murmured, grabbing a random pen off the desk just to give her hands something to do. “I’m fine. Just a long week.”

Jessica didn’t answer. She just walked slowly toward the desk, those ice-blue eyes taking in every inch of her. The slouched shoulders. The distant gaze. The thin smile that never met her eyes.

“You haven’t been fine in weeks.”

That hit harder than Y/N expected it to. She looked up sharply, but Jessica wasn’t accusing. She was just there. Solid. Soft. Concerned. And it made something ache behind Y/N’s ribs. “I’m just tired,” she tried again, shaking her head, as if the motion alone would convince them both. “It’s a lot of responsibility. It catches up sometimes, that’s all.”

Jessica leaned on the edge of the desk, one hip perched, hands folded neatly in front of her. “That’s not all.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. Her eyes burned before she could stop them. She blinked quickly, glancing away like the filing cabinet had suddenly become riveting.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Jessica said without hesitation. “I already know.”

That was the worst part. The knowing. Because she hadn’t told anyone. Hadn’t said Cody’s name in this context out loud, not even once. But it was obvious. It lived in the way she carried herself. The way she didn’t walk the same anymore. How she didn’t crack jokes with the talent as often. How her backstage segments seemed shorter to avoid being out of her office. The way she was going through the motions with every bit of her but her heart.

She used to look at him with so much love, it made other people believe in forever. But not anymore. Things changed between them, and it showed. Not in her words. Not in dramatic gestures. But in the silence. The way her eyes dulled when he walked into the room. The way she always found something else to focus on when he spoke.

“I’m still trying,” Y/N whispered, voice so raw it scraped her throat. “I keep trying. But I feel like I’m screaming underwater, and he doesn’t even notice I’m drowning.”

Jessica reached across the desk and gently took Y/N’s hand in hers.

No big speech. No forced advice. Just steady, grounding warmth.

“If you ever need a break,” she said softly, “you can come stay with me. Doesn’t matter how long. You don’t even have to call. You just show up, and I’ll be there.”

Y/N finally looked at her. Really looked. And in that moment, the tears welled too fast to catch. She blinked again, a single one slipping down her cheek. She didn’t brush it away.

Jessica didn’t mention it. She just squeezed her hand a little tighter.

“Even strong girls deserve to fall apart sometimes,” she said. “Especially the ones who hold everyone else together.”

Y/N nodded once, small and quick. Like if she did it too slow, she might break open. And maybe she will eventually, but at least she has friends like this to be there when she falls.

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The hallway lights felt too bright.

Y/N’s boots echoed down the concrete floor of the backstage corridor, each step measured, precise, like she was holding herself together one click at a time. She’d slipped her headset off in her office, trading it for the persona everyone knew—the unshakable General Manager of SmackDown. The woman who ran the show with clean efficiency and an iron spine.

She could lie with posture. With presence. It was the only thing keeping her upright right now.

Her upcoming segment was just ahead with Solo Sikoa and Jacob Fatu—easy enough. Both men respected her deeply. They were warm, loyal, and more protective than most people gave them credit for. A couple of minutes, smile, play the part. Then she could disappear again.

She turned the corner—

And the world tilted.

There he was. Cody.

Back leaned against one of the gear crates, laughing. That deep, unrestrained laugh that used to be hers. That used to bubble out of him when she’d whisper something ridiculous in his ear during commercial breaks, when she’d tug him closer by his tie in the Gorilla position, when he was still hers.

His voice rang out. Not loud. But clear. Low and soft, like it always was when he wasn’t wearing his performer’s mask. It was the voice she used to hear whispered against her skin. The one he hadn’t used with her in weeks.

And he wasn’t alone.

Madeline. The new blonde who'd been traveling more and more lately. NXT call-up. Young, talented. Had just been transferred to SmackDown from Raw for storyline reasons, a trade Y/N wasn’t too happy about. The one Cody had insisted was "just cool to talk to."

She stood close to him. So close their shoulders nearly touched.

Y/N ducked behind a side curtain instinctively, her chest tightening as she caught their voices.

Madeline laughed first, and it was the kind of laugh meant to be heard. Light, teasing. Intimate. “You always lean in like that when you’re about to say something real, y’know that?”

Cody chuckled under his breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madeline said softly. “It’s endearing.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She couldn’t see them from where she stood, but she didn’t need to. She could hear it. That slow-rolling tone in Cody’s voice. The ease. The warmth. The attention.

It used to belong to her.

“How’s your shoulder?” Cody asked her next.

“Better. You were right about that stretch,” Madeline replied. “See? I listen when you give advice.”

There was a pause. “Wish more people did,” he muttered, almost too low to catch.

Madeline stepped in closer; Y/N could hear the shift in her voice. “Is this about Y/N?”

Silence.

Y/N’s hands gripped the clipboard so tight the metal clip dug into her palm.

“She’s just… different lately,” Cody finally said, and his voice carried a weight it hadn’t in weeks. “I don’t think she gets how much pressure I’m under sometimes.”

Madeline gave a breathy hum. “Because she’s not in the ring anymore?”

He didn’t answer at first.

Then: “Exactly. She used to understand. But now it’s like… everything I do is under a microscope. She’s constantly asking if I’m okay, if I’m tired, if I’m ‘still here.’ Like—”

“Like you’re being guilt-tripped for doing your job,” Madeline finished for him.

Y/N’s throat went dry.

“She used to be proud of me,” Cody said. “Now all she sees is what I’m not doing.”

“I see you,” Madeline whispered.

The words cut like glass. Y/N stepped back, breath shuddering in her chest. Her nails bit into the clipboard hard enough to leave crescent marks in the wood. She blinked fast, fighting the sting building in her eyes. She couldn’t cry now. Not here.

She wouldn’t give them that.

Her feet moved before her brain could catch up. One step. Then another. Until she rounded the corner and—

Slammed her shoulder straight into Cody’s.

Harder than necessary.

His eyes snapped up, startled. Madeline’s smile faltered as Y/N brushed past them without a word, her face impassive. Professional. Untouchable.

But inside? Inside, she was screaming.

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking the blur from her vision as she moved through the next hallway like a ghost, her stilettos clicking too loudly over concrete.

The voices behind her faded, replaced by the thrum of adrenaline and lighting cues. Blue strobes flashed from the entrance curtain, her cue. She adjusted the jacket of her fitted navy pantsuit, ran her tongue along her teeth, and bit the inside of her cheek until the sting chased off the ache in her chest.

She was still the SmackDown General Manager. Even if she felt like a stranger in her own body.

“Y/N.”

Solo’s deep voice cut through the noise as she stepped into gorilla. His brow furrowed immediately when he saw her face. Beside him, Jacob Fatu leaned forward from the equipment case he’d been perched on, brows raising in sync.

“You good, sweetheart?” Solo asked lowly, his tone rough around the edges but concerned.

Y/N gave a tight smile. “Fine.”

She always said it the same way. Controlled. Too quick.

Jacob stood, his wide frame casting a shadow over the monitors. “You sure?” he asked, tipping his chin toward her. “’Cause looks like you bouta kill somebody.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, jaw stiff.

Solo folded his arms across his chest, the Samoan tattoos flexing with the movement. “You don’t look fine.”

Y/N blinked hard, then exhaled through her nose. “I just need to get through this segment. Don’t worry about me.”

Jacob exchanged a glance with his cousin. “Someone botherin’ you?”

She didn’t answer.

Solo leaned in, voice gruff. “Say the word. We’ll handle it.”

Y/N finally turned to them. Her shoulders sank, just a little. It wasn’t a full crack in the armor, but it was something. She gave them a tired, grateful smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I appreciate it. But I can handle myself.”

Jacob muttered something under his breath. She didn’t catch all of it, but she heard enough to know it involved someone getting their jaw rocked.

Solo didn’t speak again. He just stepped slightly in front of her, like a human wall, shielding her from wandering eyes backstage as her music hit and the crowd roared.

She stood behind him in the gorilla position, breathing deep, her hands shaking slightly at her sides.

He used to look at me like that. That’s all she could think. Cody used to look at her the way he looked at Madeline. And now he barely looked at her at all.

The red light above the entrance blinked. They were live.

Y/N plastered on a smile, lifted her chin, and started their segment.

Her heart stayed behind.

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Cody’s eyes remained locked on the hallway where Y/N had disappeared. His brow furrowed, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to hold something together.

Madeline tilted her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. “C’mon, it’s not that serious. She barely even touched you.”

Cody shook his head slightly. “It’s just… not like her, that’s all. Normally she would say something.”

“She’s been moody for weeks, Cody,” Madeline said, voice dropping to something sugar-sweet and venom-laced. “Let’s not pretend she’s been this ray of sunshine lately. Maybe if she lightened up a little—”

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” he murmured. “So am I.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Exactly. We are. She’s not the only one who’s allowed to be tired. You can’t keep breaking yourself in half for someone who doesn’t even see what you’re giving.” Her eyes rolls as she tries to calm the man, “I mean, I’ll give her her flowers or whatever, she did what she did for the business, but that was years ago. The landscape has changed. She can’t be mad just because she can’t keep up anymore.”

Before Cody could respond, a low voice cut in behind them.

“Oi.”

Cody turned around to see Drew McIntyre heading their way, broad shoulders squared and gait deliberate. He didn’t look pissed exactly, but he sure as hell didn’t look friendly.

“Hey, what’s up, man?” Cody greeted, offering a casual half-smile.

Drew stopped a few feet away, eyes flicking briefly to Madeline before settling on Cody with a weight that could crush stone. “Was just wonderin’,” he said, voice quiet but steady, “how long you’ve been actin’ like a right knob.”

Cody blinked, unsure if he’d heard him right. “What?”

Drew gestured vaguely down the hallway where Y/N had gone. “She just walked past me lookin’ like the world collapsed under her feet. Eyes glassy, like she was hangin’ on by a bloody thread.”

Cody’s smile faded. “I… I don’t know what’s goin’ on with her. She won’t talk to me.”

“Aye,” Drew said with a nod, “and why d’you think that is?”

Cody shrugged, caught off guard. “Drew, I didn’t do anything—”

“Exactly,” Drew cut in, stepping forward. “You didn’t do a damn thing. Not when it mattered.”

Madeline huffed. “Oh for god’s sake—”

“D’you mind?” Drew snapped without even looking at her. “If I wanted the opinion of a homewrecker I’dve asked sweetheart. Though I s’pose desperation has no bounds.”

Madeline took a step back, bristling, but went quiet.

Drew turned his attention back to Cody, voice quieter but somehow heavier. “You know how many times I’ve seen her sat in that office late as hell, starin’ at her phone like she’s waitin’ for it to ring? Seen her fake a smile so no one asks what’s wrong?”

Cody frowned, defensive. “Drew, come on—”

“She used to glow when you were around, mate,” Drew said, jabbing a finger toward him. “Now she walks through this place like a bloody ghost. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t breathe right.”

Cody looked away, jaw tightening.

“You think she doesn’t notice you whisperin’ with her all the time?” Drew jerked his chin toward Madeline. “You think she doesn’t see the way you look at her like you used to look at Y/N?”

“That’s not fair,” Cody muttered.

“What’s not fair,” Drew said, stepping in closer now, voice low and firm, “is makin’ a woman like that feel like she’s not enough. What’s not fair is watchin’ her give up everythin’ — her career, her family, her goddamn confidence — just to be with you, and you treat her like a bloody inconvenience.”

Madeline finally found her voice again. “Maybe she should’ve toughened up if she wanted to be with someone in this business.”

Drew’s head turned slowly toward her, and the glare he gave her could’ve frozen a bonfire. “Maybe you should shut your gob before you say somethin’ that gets your ass dropped backstage.”

She blinked, stunned silent.

Then Drew turned back to Cody, shaking his head slowly.

“You were supposed to be the dream, aye? The man with the legacy, the heart, the bloody purpose,” he said. “But lately, you’re just a coward in a nice suit, hidin’ behind excuses and cheap smiles.”

Cody’s voice was tight now. “Drew, this isn’t your business.”

“It became my business the second you broke her,” Drew growled. “And believe me when I say — if we weren’t live right now, I’d have put you through the floor by now.”

Cody stared at him, speechless.

Drew didn’t wait for a response. He turned, but not before delivering one last blow.

“You don’t deserve her,” he said, eyes cold. “You never did.”

And with that, he walked off down the corridor, leaving silence — and guilt — in his wake.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The Atlanta air hung thick and still, the early evening sun casting a golden haze across the quiet suburban street. The usual hum of the neighborhood felt far away as Y/N stood in the center of the living room she’d once called home — their home.

Cody hadn’t come back since the show wrapped a few hours ago. Jess had known he wouldn’t. That’s why she’d insisted they do it now.

“He’s probably still out with her,” Jessica said softly as she taped the last box shut, her words gentle but edged with protective fire. “Let’s just get your things and go before he gets the chance to stop you.”

Y/N didn’t respond at first. She just stood there, eyes fixed on a framed photo of her and Cody from last year’s WrestleMania afterparty — her sitting on his shoulders in the middle of the ring, champagne in hand, the brightest smile on her face. That version of them felt like a lifetime ago.

“I saw them,” she finally whispered.

Jess paused, eyes flicking toward her. “You mean backstage?”

Y/N gave a small, shaky nod as she wrapped the picture in a towel and placed it in a box, not because she wanted to save it, but because throwing it away felt too heavy in that moment.

“She was leaned in so close,” Y/N said, voice thick with the memory. “Laughing at everything he said. And he let her. He let her be close. He looked… happy. The way he used to look at me when we were just starting out. Before everything.”

Jess moved to her side, gently placing a hand on her back.

“They were talking like they’d known each other forever. I heard her say she gets him — that she understands him. And he didn’t even correct her. Just smiled like she was right.” Her voice broke slightly. “I wanted to scream at him. Remind him that I used to wrestle. That I do get it. But none of it would’ve mattered.”

Y/N looked down, tears brimming in her lashes but not falling yet. “He hasn’t seen me in months, Jess. Not really. He kisses me out of basic relationship expectations. He talks to me like I’m a schedule to manage. I don’t know when I stopped being enough for him.”

Jessica didn’t say anything at first. She just pulled her into a hug, arms strong around her shoulders as Y/N finally let the tears fall.

“You didn’t stop being enough,” she murmured fiercely. “He just stopped seeing the gold in what he had. You deserve more than scraps of love, Y/N. You deserve the whole damn thing.”

Y/N wiped at her cheeks again as she and Jessica carried the last of the boxes out of the house. The sun had nearly dipped below the skyline now, casting long shadows over the driveway of what had once been a home. It felt empty already, even though the walls were still standing.

They reached the cars, and Jess moved to open the back of her SUV when the distant rumble of a truck made Y/N freeze mid-step. Her heart thudded. For a terrifying second, she thought it might be Cody.

But then the familiar black pickup rolled up and came to a gentle stop by the curb.

Drew.

She didn’t even need to ask how he knew. Jessica had always been her ride or die — and when it came to Drew, the loyalty extended far deeper. He killed the engine and stepped out slowly, his expression unreadable as he took them in — the packed boxes, the way Y/N looked like she’d cried herself hollow.

Y/N stood still, arms wrapped around herself. Her fingers clenched the hem of her hoodie like it was the only thing keeping her from unraveling. She hadn’t planned on seeing him tonight, not like this — not when she felt so raw, so undone.

But Drew didn’t speak at first.

He just walked up and wrapped his arms around her.

And Y/N broke.

Her fingers dug into the back of his flannel shirt as a sob ripped silently through her. There were no loud gasps or hysterics — just the kind of grief that made her body fold in on itself. Her face pressed into his chest as he held her tighter, one large hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice thick and low in his chest. “I’ve got you, hen. Let it out.”

She did.

It was all too much — the way Cody smiled at another woman like she was his light, the way he used to smile at her. The way he made her feel like a burden for just wanting to be seen. Like she was always too much, or not enough.

She’d been holding it in for weeks. But now, in Drew’s arms, it crashed out of her in waves.

“I loved him,” she whispered, her voice so small it almost didn’t carry. “I loved him so much I stopped recognizing myself. I changed everything for him. Moved here. Stopped seeing my family as much to spend time with his. I gave him everything I had, Drew.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her, his blue eyes stormy and soft all at once.

“And he gave his attention to someone else,” he said grimly. “I saw it. Tonight. Clear as bloody day.”

“I don’t think he even knows me anymore,” Y/N choked out, shaking her head. “And the worst part? I still love him. Even after all of this.”

Drew exhaled hard through his nose, jaw tightening. He reached out and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her cheek.

“Of course you do. Love like that doesn’t just vanish overnight. But love’s supposed to build you up, not gut you like this.” His voice softened, thick with emotion. “You’re one of the strongest women I know, but even the strongest need someone who’ll fight for them — not make them feel invisible.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glossy and full of guilt and heartbreak. “I don’t know how to be okay without him,” she confessed.

Drew stepped closer, his forehead gently pressing to hers. “You don’t need to be okay tonight,” he whispered. “Tonight you just need to breathe. I’ll be here. Every step of the way. And I swear on my mother’s life, I’ll never let anyone make you feel this way again.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The way he said it — so certain, so sincere — made something break wide open inside her. But this time, it wasn’t pain. It was relief.

She nodded, closing her eyes against his. They stood there for a long, quiet moment as the sky darkened above them.

Eventually, Jessica gently cleared her throat.

“We should go,” she said softly, eyes damp with her own emotion.

Y/N stepped away from Drew, just enough to meet his eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me for giving a damn about you, lass,” he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek with a tenderness that made her want to cry all over again. “That’s what love’s supposed to look like. Even if it’s just from a friend.”

She didn’t reply — just gave him the faintest, most broken smile. Then she turned toward the car.

As they pulled out of the driveway, she looked back once — at the house where she once believed forever lived. Her heart ached violently in her chest. Not because she hated him. But because she didn’t.

Because despite everything, she still loved him.

But she couldn’t keep living like she was less than what she gave.

So she turned her gaze forward, to the road ahead — and drove away.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Cody fumbled with the front door key, still rattled from Drew’s outburst earlier that night.

The confrontation had hit something deep. He couldn’t shake the anger in Drew’s voice, or the words “You don’t deserve someone like her.”

Cody had replayed it in his head the whole drive home, trying to convince himself Drew was being overdramatic, or misinformed, or both. He was going to talk to Y/N — figure out what the hell was going on between them. He still didn’t fully get why she’d looked at him like that backstage. Like she didn’t recognize him. Like she hated him.

The lock clicked open and he stepped inside.

The silence was immediate. Too immediate.

No soft music playing from the kitchen speaker. No lights left on. No smell of her favorite lavender candle she always lit after a show.

He stepped deeper in, his boots heavy against the hardwood.

Then it hit him.

The coat rack by the door — empty.

The shelf by the stairs where she kept her keys and lanyards — bare.

His heart dropped.

He moved fast now, heading toward the living room, the hallway, the bedroom. Every room was the same — clean, untouched… and hollow.

Her stuff was gone.

All of it.

The dresser drawers she used. Empty. Her makeup bag on the bathroom counter? Gone. The framed photo of the two of them at Mania, the one where he was lifting her up, both grinning like fools? Removed. A faint square of dust where the frame had been.

It was like she had never lived there.

Cody stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom, throat tightening, pulse starting to race. “Y/N?” he called out instinctively, even though he already knew.

She was gone.

No note. No message.

Just... gone.

His heart thudded in his chest like a warning siren. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He sat down on the bed — their bed — and buried his face in his hands.

And that’s when it hit him. Everything. Every moment he’d dismissed. Every time he told her it was “nothing.” Every time he told himself she was being insecure when she was just trying to be seen.

The flirtatious messages. The way he smiled when Madeline got his jokes. The way he let her linger too close, too long. And worst of all — the way he’d looked at her backstage tonight, like she was the only person in the room.

He hadn’t cheated, right?

Had he given another woman parts of himself that Y/N had been starving to reach?

Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t realize what he had done to push away the love of his life. And now… she was gone.

He stood up in a daze and grabbed his phone, texting her.

CODY: Y/N. Where are you? Can we talk? Please.

No response.

He texted Jess. Nothing.

He tried again. Called her. Voicemail.

Then he started texting everyone. Joseph. Kevin. Pamela. Jonathan. Trinity. Paul. Anyone who might’ve known where she went.

Nobody knew.

Only one clue stood out — Jess hadn’t even opened his message. And she always opened her messages.

So he figured it out.

She was with Jess.

And there was only one place talent was staying in Atlanta tonight.

He remembered exactly which hotel it was, Y/N pretty much having to beg the higher ups to allow them to book with this hotel. It was closer to the arena than the other one they had wanted to stay with.

That was always Y/N’s thing, fighting for the benefit of others even when it had nothing to do with her.

Cody rushed through the lobby the minute he got there, barely acknowledging the concierge as he made his way to the elevators. He knew the floor. Knew how Jess told Y/N the exact room she’d be staying in when she booked the room. And he’d remembered meeting her in this exact hallway at the beginning of their relationship.

The night he first kissed her actually.

When he reached the door, his hand hovered.

He hesitated — just for a second.

Then he knocked.

It opened a beat later. Jessica stood there, arms folded, expression hard as stone. “Why are you here?” she asked coldly.

“I need to see her,” Cody said. His voice cracked. “Please. Just… just for a minute.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “You’ve had years of minutes, Cody. And you wasted them.”

“I just—” His voice faltered. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize she was hurting like that.”

“That’s the problem,” Jess snapped. “You didn’t notice. You never noticed.”

Cody’s mouth opened to respond when a familiar voice interrupted.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Drew stepped into view from deeper in the room, his posture tense, shoulders squared like a wall of fury barely contained.

Cody’s chest tightened. “I just wanna talk to her.”

“She doesn’t owe you anything,” Andrew growled. “Especially not after what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Cody shouted back.

“Aye, but that’s the bloody point, isn’t it?” Drew snapped. “You didn’t do anything. You let her wither away while you smiled at another lass like she was the center of your world.”

Jessica put a hand on Drew’s arm, trying to keep him steady, but it was Y/N’s voice that cut through the tension.

“It’s okay.”

Everyone turned.

Y/N stood behind them, quiet in the doorway of the room. She wore a soft hoodie and shorts, bare feet tucked slightly together, arms wrapped around her middle like she needed to hold herself together.

She looked so small. So tired. And so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Jess. Drew. It’s okay. I’ve got it,” she said quietly, eyes lingering on Drew with a look of silent gratitude.

They stepped aside.

And Y/N stepped out into the hallway. She closed the door quietly behind her before turning to face him. She looks like someone who has spent every ounce of strength holding it together — and she’s still doing it, even now.

Cody can barely breathe as he looks at her.

"You’re really gone," he says again, quieter this time. Like maybe if he says it softly enough, it won’t be real.

She nods, her eyes glassy but dry. “Yeah.”

“I—I came home and it was like you’d vanished. Not a note. Not even a—” He stops himself, a shaky breath catching in his throat. “Why didn’t you leave me something?”

She gives a broken smile. “Because I knew if I wrote anything down, I’d stay. And I can’t keep staying in a house where I don’t recognize the person I built it with.”

His face falls. “Y/N, please… just yell at me. Be mad. Hate me, even. I deserve it. But please don’t do this. Just come back home.”

“I can’t come home, Cody.” She shakes her head slowly, lips trembling. “But I’m not angry at you.”

"Then what are you?" he asks, voice nearly cracking.

“I’m heartbroken,” she breathes. “But not angry. Because how can I be mad at you for giving yourself to someone else… when I’m the one who just watched you slip away piece by piece?”

Cody’s eyes shut tight. “Don’t say that.”

“I begged you,” she continues, voice rising just a bit, raw around the edges. “I begged you without ever saying a word. I touched your hand and waited for you to hold it back. I looked at you and waited for you to see me. But your eyes always drifted somewhere else. To someone else.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Cody says quickly, almost defensive. “I didn’t touch her. I never crossed that line.”

Y/N’s smile this time is heartbreaking. “There are worse things than touching, Cody.”

Silence.

“You used to look at me like I was your home,” she whispers. “Now everyone just sees distance in your eyes when you look my way — and that’s if you look at all.”

He swallows hard. “I never meant for it to get like this.”

“But it did,” she says, her voice cracking. “You stopped choosing me. And I stayed. I stayed and twisted myself into someone quieter, someone easier to love. I gave you every piece of me I had left.”

“I was stressed,” Cody mutters, stepping forward. “Between the title runs, the travel—”

“No,” she cuts him off. “Don’t you dare blame this on your schedule. I was there. Always. I didn’t need grand gestures. I needed you to talk to me. To look at me the way you looked at her tonight.”

He flinches. “That wasn’t—”

“She leaned in so close,” Y/N whispers, more to herself now. “And you let her. You didn’t stop her. You didn’t flinch. You smiled.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“But you did,” she says, her voice sharp now. “You hurt me every time you brushed me off. Every time I said ‘I love you’ and you kissed me like it was just… Like it was part of the routine, not something you felt.”

Cody is crying now. He wipes his face roughly.

“I still love you.”

She looks at him, wounded, gentle. “I don’t think you even know what that means anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” he begs.

“You want me to be mad?” she says, stepping closer, her voice dropping. “You want me to scream? Shatter something? I can’t. Because I’m not angry that you loved someone else. I’m devastated that you stopped loving me… and I didn’t even notice when it happened. That’s how slowly you left.”

He drops his head, sobs shaking his shoulders.

She exhales shakily, reaching up to wipe a tear of her own. “You kept looking for someone who understood your world. And I did, Cody. I thrived in this business. I lived it. I still do — just not in the way you do anymore. And when I tried to talk to you about it, you made me feel like I was just some ghost story. Like the time, the toll my body took meant nothing just because I can’t do it anymore.”

“I never wanted you to feel like that—”

“But you didn’t stop it, either,” she says. “You didn’t stop anything.”

There’s a long, weighted silence.

Finally, she whispers, “I would’ve done anything to make you happy. But you never paid close enough attention to see that I was trying.”

Cody’s voice is barely a rasp. “I didn’t know I was losing you.”

Her lip quivers. “You didn’t even know you had me.”

That’s what finally breaks him.

He steps back, one hand clutching his chest like he’s trying to hold in the ache. “Please… please don’t go.”

“I already did,” she says softly. “And it came down to this for you to finally notice.”

She looks at him one last time — really looks at him. And then she turns. “Goodbye Cody.”

Then she walks back inside. The door closes behind her. And Cody stands in the hallway, alone with every word he never said.

The door clicks shut with a soft click as she re-enters Jessica’s room. The silence that greets her is thick, humming low in the aftermath of everything that was said in the hallway.

Jessica’s nowhere to be seen — the muffled sound of running water from the bathroom the only sign she’s still here.

But Andrew is there.

Sitting in the corner chair near the window, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely laced, waiting like he promised he would.

He looks up as she enters, and when he sees her — red-eyed, fragile, shaken — his entire frame softens.

“Hey,” he says, low and warm. “You okay?”

It’s such a simple question.

But it’s asked with such honesty that Y/N has to pause before answering. Her throat tightens.

“No,” she admits quietly. “But I think… I’m breathing again.”

Drew gives a small nod, like he understands more than he lets on. He stands slowly, not rushing her, not pushing. Just being there.

She doesn’t move at first. She’s still holding onto the tension from her conversation with Cody — the ghost of what once was pressing against her chest.

Drew takes a small step forward. “C’mere.”

Y/N doesn’t even hesitate.

She walks straight into his arms.

And he catches her like he’s done it a hundred times before. His embrace is firm but gentle — arms around her back, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as she presses her face into his chest. The scent of him is familiar now: crisp cologne and warmth. The kind of safety you don’t realize you’ve been craving until it’s wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice small. “For all of this. For dragging you into it.”

“You didn’t drag me,” Drew murmurs into her hair. “I walked. Gladly.”

Y/N lets her eyes close. His heartbeat is steady against her cheek.

She’s quiet for a long beat before her voice finds her again. “He said he didn’t know he was losing me.”

Drew pulls back just enough to look at her. His hand stays gently on her jaw, thumb brushing just beneath her eye, catching the tear that slips free despite her efforts.

“He lost you the second he stopped making you feel chosen,” he says softly. “And anyone who can look at you and not know what they’ve got in front of them… doesn’t deserve to hold onto you.”

Her breath shudders, “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is,” Drew says. “People are the ones that complicate it.”

Their eyes lock. And something in the air shifts. Just enough to be felt. His hand is still on her face. She doesn’t pull away. Neither of them do.

Y/N blinks slowly. “Why do you always know what to say?”

“I don’t always know what to say,” he says simply. “I just know you.”

That lands harder than she expects. She exhales a laugh that’s more of a sigh — sad but grateful. Her hands are still on his chest, fingers curled slightly into his shirt like she’s afraid to let go too quickly.

“Stay?” she asks softly. “Just… sit with me for a bit?”

Drew smiles. “Aye. As long as you want.”

He leads her to the bed, sitting beside her — not touching now, just near. Close enough that she could lean on him if she wanted. Close enough to feel his presence anchoring her.

And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, Y/N doesn’t feel quite so alone.

Outside the window, the city hums.

Inside, she breathes.

And Drew stays — a steady presence beside her, saying nothing more.

But somehow saying everything.

#female reader #heartbreak #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine #world wrestling entertainment #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre #tiffany stratton #solo sikoa #jacob fatu

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valenteal · 5 months ago

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The story of Anakin Skywalker is about how anyone can break under enough pressure. It isn’t a tragedy about an inevitable doom, it isn’t about how power corrupts or about how caring is dangerous. It’s about how no matter how good and kind and selfless and seemingly invincible someone is they still have needs and they can still be hurt.

Maybe this is because Phantom Menace is my favorite Star Wars movie and so I have rewatched it a million times, but for me Anakin is the most genuinely caring and selfless character in Star Wars. He wasn’t just an innocent kid (kids can be cruel and selfish and they’re usually better when they grow up not worse) he was compassionate and kind and despite growing up surrounded by some of the worst scum in the galaxy he knew nothing of greed. That says so much about his character.

Anakin’s fall to the dark side took over a decade of carful manipulation that culminated in cascade of tragedy and loss. It wasn’t an accident. Every bit of the emotional trauma, physical trauma, and mental trauma from the moment Anakin met Palpatine and on ward was planned. We don’t see the decade he spent between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones but immediately in the second movie we see how much Anakin has changed. Where he used to be confident he’s insecure, where he used to bold and fearless he is now arrogant, where he was once inquisitive he is now cautiously enthusiastic, where he used to build he now destroys. Every change in his behavior and outlook is the result of either the teachings of the Jedi Order which are pretty much the antithesis of his entire personality, the result of Sidious’s manipulation, or the result of the toxic attitudes of many Jedi towards him.

Now I know a lot of people have… misconceptions about what the Jedi Order is and what they stand for. It’s understandable, since I guess a lot of people think of Luke as an everything a Jedi is supposed to be but he is NOT, he wasn’t even taught their philosophy! Yoda and Windu and Luminara are everything a Jedi is meant to be. They take an impersonal approach to justice, they treat others coldly, they believe themselves to be above petty things like emotion and pain and human connection. There are Jedi who take a more progressive stance like Obi-Wan and Quinlan and Qui-Gon but you have to understand that they are not model Jedi and have their own struggles with the Order and its teachings. The Jedi code literally says “There is no emotion.” That is what Jedi strive for. And that isn’t even getting into the genocide or the politics. Focusing on how this affected Anakin. That’s what I’m doing.

Anyway, Anakin is a deeply emotional person. This is not a bad thing. It’s the source of his conviction and his empathy (which a surprising amount of Jedi lack). Anakin feels deeply, so he feels love and anger and sadness more keenly than Jedi who have worked their whole lives to shut off emotion. And he was never taught how to deal with it. The most the Jedi did was tell him to meditate, release his emotions into the Force, focus on the present or other platitudes that do not help! I would know. I’m also a deeply emotional person who feels things very keenly to the point where I had a full psychological evaluation when I was 6 years old. When a person deals with this it NEEDS to be addressed. I have wonderful parents who did everything in their power to help me from a young age and I still ended up suicidal! Anakin did not get help and was instead shamed for feeling so strongly and he ended up bottling it up. People complain about how he was “whiny” and I (a person who has also been called whiny) just go what the fuck do you expect?? Expressing his frustration verbally is literally the healthiest option he has! And we know what it looks like when he chooses other forms of venting! Anakin vented to Padmé almost immediately after reconnecting with her because she is literally the only person in his life who will listen to him (other than Sidious but he makes things worse on purpose).

So yeah. Sensitive people need to be taught how to deal with their emotions in healthy ways. Really everyone does but especially people with strong emotions.

But when Anakin isn’t overwhelmed by emotions he doesn’t have the tools to deal with, or surrounded by toxic people, or being actively manipulated by an evil dictator, that’s when you see who he really is. Which means pretty much all of Phantom Menace, a good chunk of the time he’s alone with Padmé, and… nothing else really. (I’m just going to say here that I am not including Clone Wars Anakin due to the purposeful butchering of his character. I still consider the show canon in everything but Anakin’s characterization in a lot of specific instances.)

Anakin has never been a selfish person. The things people perceive as selfish are his needs. He needs unconditional love. He needs Padmé because she is the only person who gives him that. Even without getting into his psychology and bpd and what a splitting episode is, it isn’t hard to recognize that when he places Padmé’s safety above other people’s it’s an act of self preservation more than self interest. He knows that he would literally go crazy without her. After years of being systematically isolated and traumatized she is the only thing keeping him together. In his desperation to save her and consequently his own sanity he lost both those things. But it’s important to note that he tried to do things right, that he went to Yoda for help, that he told Padmé so she could take her own steps to ensure her health. He did everything he could think of before getting desperate enough to go to Sidious. Not to mention he did everything right after discovering Sidious’s identity. It wasn’t until he was presented with a false dichotomy that boiled down to choosing his mentor and confidant of over a decade and his wife’s life or the man who has scored and distrusted him since he was child that he made the objectively wrong choice. And that was after not sleeping for weeks and having a traumatizing realization that triggered a splitting episode so he wasn’t in a head space to understand what was going on in an objective way.

So yeah. That’s my rant about Anakin Skywalker. If you want to comment or debate know that I will reply with an explanation of my thoughts that could be just as long as this post and that I will not stop until you do. You will not get the last word. I feel very strongly about this and if you’ve gotten this far you have to know that I have thought very deeply about this as well. I have heard every argument. You will not change my mind. I have done research. Engaging with this post to disagree will only lead to me expanding on this even more because this is really a brief summary of all my thoughts and feelings on the matter. If you’re just curious about the rest of my thoughts and feelings just ask.

Don’t try to attack my own morals and character because of this, I am NOT condoning Anakin’s actions or behavior, I am completely aware that he is a deeply damaged and unstable person. The point of this is not to deny that but to explain why Anakin is not naturally like that. The scariest thing about Anakin’s fall is that it happened to Anakin, a paragon of compassion and selflessness. Anyone put under the amount of pressure he was would go crazy. I doubt many people would last as long as Anakin did. He was insanely strong to resist for as long as he did.

#anakin skywalker #star wars meta #star wars #character analysis #analysis #meta analysis #darth vader #jedi #the jedi order #the jedi code #the jedi code is bullshit #disclaimer: im not a psychologist #i wrote this instead of sleeping #its 5 am now wtf i need to sleep

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monstersflashlight · 5 months ago

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Patreon Commission for @wimble_warcrime

Request: So basically, I was thinking of a disgustingly cute fluff piece about a werewolf and his mate going on a winter vacation a month before his mate is due to give birth to his litter. It's like a last hurrah before their family dynamic is changed forever, and they want to spend it alone. But (!), things don't go as planned, and she's forced into labour (after a particularly rowdy round in the sheets), and their also stranded in the middle of nowhere in the log cabin because of a sudden blizzard. So, werehubby and her have to deal with the birth alone, without pain meds or power.

A/N: I hope this meets your expectations, I changed it a lil bit and added power to the mix so there was someone not panicking. It was very interesting to write. :)

Cabin surprise

Werewolf x fem!reader || sfw (mainly), found family feels || tw: pregnancy, labor

When you first arrived to the cabin, everything felt so new and cozy that you felt instantly at home, it was like you could inhale the peace around you, the woods, solitude, the chirps of the birds outside… And your werewolf husband cursing because he kicked a rock while carrying your bags. Typical.

You tried not to laugh, but when you looked back and saw him looking at the rock as if it personally offended him, you let out a soft chuckle. He looked up, eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face, but as soon as your eyes met, it disappeared. His face broke into the biggest smile possible, his ears twitching like they did when he was excited.

Staring at him from the porch of the cabin, hand resting on your very big belly and a soft smile as you looked at him. It was just the epitome of relaxing situation. He walked to you in a rush, not caring that he probably kicked a few more rocks in his way. He was a werewolf on a mission, and his mission was you.

He hugged you with his free arm, squeezing you to his side as he walked inside. “Come on darling, let’s get you settled and then I can rub your feet.”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you tried to argue instantly.

He looked down, faking annoyance. “I know. But I want to.”

He had been more than helpful since you found out you were pregnant. Well, since he sniffed your neck and informed you that you were going to be parents. That was a weird breakfast. But it was magical at the same time, he looked so excited his tail didn’t stop wriggling from side to side for hours. Literal hours wriggling his tail, and his ears twitching in excitement every time he looked at you. His excitement had died down a tiny bit, but he was still over the moon about the baby. Or at least he acted like it.

You had the suspicion that what he really liked was seeing you round with his babies, he fucked you harder than ever, being careful not to put too much pressure or weight on your belly, but fucking you until your arms and legs were trembling and you were drenched in his come, your stomach and pussy messy as he marked you over and over.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear every time it happened, too. He told you how much he enjoyed seeing you full of his cub, how he wanted to keep you full of come so you would smell like him forever… And you lapped it up. You lived for the attention, he was hornier than ever, and that helped a lot with your crazy pregnancy hormones that made you want to jump him every single second you had available.

And good lord if he complied with that.

He didn’t leave any of your desires without fulfillment. You wanted to be fucked raw doggy-style until your body was sore? Done. You wanted to suck his dick until he was crying and begging? Done. You wanted strawberries and cream out of season? Don’t worry darling, he would drive three towns over until he found them.

And right now, you knew full well what you wanted. And that was to be ravaged by your werewolf. “Come here,” you told him, eyes hooded and a primal hunger boiling inside of you.

His smirk was knowing as he approached, lowering his head enough to kiss your waiting lips. You deepened the kiss instantly, grabbing his hair and pulling until he was whimpering against your lips and grabbing your ass, pulling you up and walking you to the room.

And once again… he complied with all your desires.

But when you woke up a couple hours later, soreness wasn’t the first thing you felt, but the agonizing pain of contractions. Fuck. You were in so much trouble. You could hear the wind outside, which wasn’t a good sign.

You tried to remain calm as your brain freaked out completely. “Honey. Honey, wake up. I think we need to go.” He mumbled something in his sleep, and you turned to his sleeping form and hit him right in the chest. “Wake the fuck up, the baby is coming!” You snapped.

He stood up in one fast movement, looking around in confusion. “What?!” He was blinking rapidly, as if he could stop being sleepy if he did that.

You stared right back at him, but when another contraction hit, you squeezed his arm until he winced. “I have contractions. The baby is coming.”

Instant panic. “But… But we aren’t ready. We don’t have the stuff and… and. Hospital. We need to get to the hospital.” You looked at him and pointed at the window, which was obscured by the dark clouds outside and the huge amount of snow falling. That fact hit him harder than you expected. “There’s a fucking storm outside, we can’t go to the hospital. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do we do? What do I do?”

You breathed hard, trying to collect yourself. “Honey, I need you to calm down, and go get some supplies. We can do this together, okay? We can.” You reminded him. “Say it,” it was an order between clenched teeth.

“We can do this,” he repeated, breathing deeply and looking at you with a hint of desperation.

You looked at him, nodding shortly. “Okay. You aren’t going to pass out right?” You were sure he would hold strong, but at that moment you really needed him to be on fucking alert.

He looked offended. “What? No!”

“Okay. Go get towels and clean water and all those stuff they get in movies,” you instructed.

He got everything he could as you tried to remember all the things they taught you in parenting classes, how to breathe, what to do when the worst pain hit… All that things that at the moment felt a bit stupid but right now were saving you from panicking.

But then your amazing husband returned, he had the best idea ever. “Let me call the Alpha, she will know what to do.” You nodded, squeezing his hand until he whined at the next contraction.

He talked in hushed tones as the Alpha told him some stuff you couldn’t pick. Your brain was entirely focused on the pain and the way your lower body was starting to feel too heavy.

“Okay, okay… Darling, I got you. I got you. Alpha is going to walk us thru’ it, okay? She’s done it a thousand times with wolves in the pack, right?” You nodded, looking at him with tears in your eyes. He looked panicked still, but a lot more collected. “We can get through this. And then we’ll have a beautiful baby that will look a perfect mix between you and me, okay? You want that right?” You nodded again, a single tear leaving your eye as he helped you into a better position.

Step by step he followed what the Alpha was saying on the speaker, never stopping giving you encouragement and compliments. How good you were doing, how pretty you looked even when you felt like shit, how much he loved you… And with each word and each contraction, you felt a bit lighter, a bit better. And when the time to push arrived, he held your hand as he guided you through it.

And when you thought your body couldn’t hold anymore, when you thought you were about to die because of the pain… Then you heard a cry.

You opened your eyes enough to see a ball of fur and soft human skin on your husband’s arms, smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing he’d ever seen. And you can understand why. Because he is. He’s the most precious baby. Delivery wasn’t over, but the rest flew by in a few seconds (or you thought there were seconds) because you knew your baby boy was okay and well…

You were breathing hard, body completely spent, when your husband approached you, already clean and with a bundle of covers on his arms. “You did it, darling.” He kissed your forehead. “You did so good, look at him, he’s so beautiful. Looks just like you…” He passed you the baby and you couldn’t hold back the tears. He looked so perfect, his tiny pointy ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and his nose scrunching as you booped him. He was… perfect.

The next morning you woke up feeling more than soreness, your whole body hurting but with a delicious smell of pancakes and bacon arriving from the kitchen. You wanted to get up, but before you could, your beautiful werewolf was walking back into the room, a plate full of food in one hand, and your beautiful baby in the other.

“The whole pack is here to help, the ran through the blizzard to get here,” he told you with tears in his eyes. You were a lot more sensitive than him at the moment, so the contained tears weren’t your reaction. You started to sob very loudly, alerting the whole pack who entered the room in a panic.

You found yourself half naked in bed, with your whole family looking at you with love and understanding in their eyes…

You did good. Both of you did perfect.

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casedclosedbyb · 5 months ago

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Cuddle Therapy

Sam Wilson x Reader fluff oneshot

Wc: 1.9k

Summary: Sam Wilson is wasted asf

It’s a quiet Friday night, and you’re winding down after a long week when your phone buzzes. It’s a text from Sam Wilson: *"Can you come pick me up? I might have had too much fun."*

You sigh, knowing that Sam’s had a tough week with his responsibilities as both the Falcon and dealing with the pressure of the world’s expectations of him. You don’t think twice before grabbing your keys and heading out to pick him up, figuring a little company might help ease whatever stress he's carrying around.

When you pull up to the bar, you spot Sam stumbling out of the door. He’s clearly had a little too much to drink, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a tipsy, goofy grin. He’s almost swaying in place, trying to steady himself on the curb when you approach. As soon as he sees you, his face lights up, and he waves dramatically, slurring his words a little. "Hey, you came! I knew you'd rescue me, just like... like a superhero!" he says with a half-cocked grin, his arm lazily draping over your shoulder as he leans into you for support.

"Easy there, big guy," you laugh, steadying him as he gives you an exaggerated pout.

"I swear, I’m usually *so* smooth. But tonight..." He stumbles, but you catch him just in time, the tipsy giggles never quite leaving his lips. "I'm like… *definitely* not smooth tonight." He laughs again, clearly amused by his own clumsiness.

You help him into the car, where he continues his lighthearted banter. "You know, you really should’ve warned me about the hugs. I’m not usually this touchy, but I just feel… *so cozy* right now," he says, and before you can respond, he shifts slightly, sliding his hand onto your knee with a silly grin. "You’re like a personal heater. Is this what it’s like to have a bodyguard?"

You chuckle but keep your focus on the road as you drive him home. Sam, however, is practically melted into the passenger seat, head lolling from side to side as he hums some random tune under his breath.

"Okay, okay," he suddenly says, snapping his fingers as though he’s had a revelation. "You should definitely get a cape, too. You’d be the best superhero. Cuddles, rescues, and... uh... snacks. You’d be like, *Super Cozy Snuggle Person*."

You laugh, trying not to get distracted by his tipsy ramblings, but you can’t help but smile at how comfortable and at ease he is, despite everything he's going through.

When you finally get to your apartment, Sam is still being overly affectionate, practically clinging to you as you help him inside. He’s all smiles and slurred compliments, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "I really like you, you know? Like… I always think you’re awesome, but tonight... I think you’re like... *super* awesome." He giggles, a little too loudly for the late hour.

You roll your eyes fondly, teasing him. "Yeah, I’m sure I’m *super* awesome right now with you draped over me like this."

But Sam doesn’t seem to mind. He’s far past the point of embarrassment, lost in the warmth of his tipsy affections. "You *are* super awesome. Don’t pretend you don’t like all this attention." He gives you a goofy grin before leaning in and nuzzling your neck. “I mean, how could you not? You’re like... my personal favorite human right now. You're basically my best friend... and my favorite pillow.”

You try to push him away with a laugh, but his grip is surprisingly strong for someone who’s barely able to stand straight. He pulls you into the couch, where he collapses, still holding onto you like a life raft. "Okay, okay. Enough teasing," he says, his voice slurring a little more. "Come on, come cuddle me. I need cuddles. I’m just… I’m just *really* feeling the cuddles tonight, okay?"

You roll your eyes, but give in, sitting down beside him. Sam immediately leans into you, his body warm and relaxed against yours. The banter continues, though now it’s mixed with little sleepy chuckles. His hand drifts onto your thigh, casually resting there as his head settles onto your shoulder. "You know," he mumbles, "you’re basically the best pillow in the world. Better than any other pillow. Like… you know, I *really* don’t like cuddling with people usually, but with you... it’s just right. So cozy. You feel like home, you know?"

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks at his words, but you try to keep it casual. "Yeah, sure, I’m just a big, soft pillow."

"Exactly," he says, voice full of contentment. "You’ve got the perfect vibe. Like, I feel like I could fall asleep forever if I’m with you. You’re like… like... the best form of therapy."

You smile to yourself, ruffling his hair affectionately as his breathing begins to slow down. He’s drifting off to sleep, still clinging to you with a surprising amount of force. "Night, Sam," you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure if he’s still awake.

His answer is a soft, slurred murmur, something like, “Goodnight, best pillow ever.” Then, silence.

You let him sleep on your shoulder, content to stay there for a while. Eventually, you drift off too, the soft, warm presence of Sam Wilson beside you making the night feel comfortable, safe, and unexpectedly intimate.

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The Next Morning

The sun is just starting to filter in through the blinds when you wake up. Sam’s still lying next to you, but now he’s sprawled across the couch, looking as though he’s been in a deep sleep for hours. His arm is draped over your chest, and his head rests on your shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.

You stretch, trying to move without waking him, but the moment you shift, Sam’s grip tightens, pulling you closer with a soft groan. "Mmm, no. Stay... just a little longer," he mumbles sleepily, face buried in your shoulder.

You chuckle softly, glancing down at him. His hair’s a bit messy from sleeping, and there’s a slight pout on his face, still a little uncoordinated from last night’s drunken state. It’s endearing, and you can’t help but smile.

"Sam," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair. "You’re gonna be late for whatever you’ve got going on today."

He groans again, slowly blinking his eyes open. "Mmmm, too early. Let me just... stay here with you. I feel like I just need five more minutes."

You laugh. "Five more minutes? You said that last night too."

Sam blinks at you, looking mildly confused for a second before the memories of the previous night seem to hit him all at once. He sits up abruptly, eyes wide with embarrassment. "Wait, did I really—" His voice trails off, and his face turns red when he realizes what happened. “Oh, God. I... I was *that* drunk last night, huh?"

You smirk, nudging him lightly. "You were definitely *that* drunk, yes. But you were also super cuddly and affectionate."

He groans, flopping back onto the couch in embarrassment. “Great. Cuddle drunk Sam. Perfect.”

You laugh, and he glances at you, his eyes softening. "Thanks for... well, putting up with me. And for, you know... *being here.*"

You shrug nonchalantly. "It’s no big deal. You needed someone to make sure you didn’t end up trying to call a cab while still wasted. I’m happy to be your designated cuddle buddy."

He grins sheepishly, then nudges you with his shoulder. "Well, you’re damn good at it, I’ll give you that."

You both sit there for a while, the awkwardness starting to fade as the morning sun creeps higher. Sam finally pushes himself to his feet, stretching and yawning. "Alright, alright," he mutters. "I guess I should get moving. You sure I’m not going to get like... a repeat of last night if I stay too long?"

You give him a playful shove, laughing. "Get outta here, Wilson. But you can come back for round two any time. Just no more drunk cuddles."

Sam throws you a wink, clearly still a little tipsy but now more self-aware. "Deal. Just don't be surprised if I show up at your door for more therapy... soon." He gives you a lazy salute and heads for the door, leaving you with a smile on your face, wondering if this might be the start of something a little more than just late-night cuddles.

#anthony mackie #red falcon #captain america #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson fluf #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x female reader #fluff #marvel fluff #marvel memes #sam wilson oneshots #marvel

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underratedbreadcrust · 7 months ago

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Love languages — Lost Characters HCs

Characters: jack shepard, james “sawyer” ford, kate austen, sayid jarrah, and charlie pace

Warnings: some cursing and slight suggestive language sawyer.

a/n: this show has been consuming my being and i need to talk to someone about it or i’ll explode. i have been so preoccupied with school i kinda got distracted from this account and writing but i'm going to do my best to get back on track.

Jack Shepard

He has always felt the absence of his father, whether he wants to admit it or not.

He struggles with being vulnerable, but when he does truly care about someone he wants to be as present as possible because he knows what it feels like to be alone.

He really likes touching you. not like that weirdo

He needs you to know that he'll always be there for you, and he does this by constantly reminding you physically.

Whether it be a kiss on the forehead, a prolonged hug, or even a brush of hands, he wants to cement the idea that you can always count on him.

Also, this man definitely lives for words of affirmation.

I mean look at that wet cat man, he’s never been given any positive words that didn’t have a second motive.

Having lived his entire life surrounded by false praise, the first time you compliment him, he sighs internally just waiting for you to ask him a favor right afterward.

So, of course, it throws him off when you don’t.

I mean, what other reason could there be for your kind words.

And it’s not the last time either, you continue to encourage him, expressing your admiration at his skills and the way he always knows what to or what to say in every situation.

The way you spoke of all of his actions, was enough to slowly break down his walls.

Eventually, when he gets comfortable enough to tell you about his past, you are there to listen intently, hanging on to his every word.

Once he’s finished, you reach your hand out to hold his and offer him words of encouragement, telling him he’s a better man than everybody gives him credit for, and that he needs to stop pressuring himself to fix everything.

He has no idea how you always know exactly what to say to leave him comforted, but he knows that that is what he loves the most about you.

James “Sawyer” Ford

His main approach to getting another person’s attention is through a sly smile and sexual innuendos. It’s what has worked so well in the past.

But the real way he expresses his affection is through gifts.

The man hates giving anything he considers “his” to anybody, so whenever he does, consider it a sign.

Believe it or not, he is a very active listener.

If you happen to casually mention a small detail, like you’re craving a certain food or need an extra blanket, expect him to have it within the hour.

Sawyer is awkward when it comes to expressing himself through words sincerely, and he considers himself too clumsy to do anything else.

So he figures the best way to show that he cares is by giving you whatever you want.

Don’t expect him to be sweet about it either though. He’ll definitely make some jokes about you needing to pay him back and you’ll do it gladly.

Receiving wise though, he appreciates anybody that is willing to give him the time of day.

Before the island, the idea of spending quality time with anybody he wasn’t sleeping with was absurd.

However, after meeting you, his thoughts quickly changed.

He knows that he isn’t the easiest person to deal with, so he treasures you going out of your way to be with him more than you realize.

Nobody was ever willing to spend more time than necessary when it came to being around him.

Your persistence is what allowed him to fully open up.

At first, he does everything in his power likebeingalittlebitch to get you to stay away.

Once it dawns on him that his actions won’t be enough to get you to leave, his appreciation for you grows.

Needless to say, once you get him to care enough about you, you’ll never be needing for more.

Kate Austen

Kate hates having to stay anywhere longer than she has to.

Which is why, if she makes an effort to be around you, for no apparent reason, then it’s most likely that she’s attached.

She has spent a good chunk of her life running. Including responsibilities, confrontations, the law, she doesn’t know the meaning of slowing down.

With you, however, she wants nothing more than for time to stop so she can appreciate the full extent of your company and enjoy quality time together.

She never thought it to be possible for her to find a person who made her feel like she was at home until she met you.

Beware though, being around you and trusting you are two different things.

After losing all the most important people in her life (betrayal or otherwise) she is still extremely wary of being vulnerable with others, regardless if she cares for them or not.

It will take a lot of work on your part to show her that not everybody close to her is bound to leave.

Which is why she needs constant verbal reassurance of your affection towards her.

Don't be too direct with it though, or else she might think you're trying to take advantage of her in some way.

However, if you slowly build your relationship with her while affirming her how much she means to you, then her walls are bound to come down.

Your positive words combined with your sincerity will have her falling for you so hard she won't know what to do with herself.

Whether you know it or not, your words to her are a lifeline.

Sayid Jarrah

ASKSNWKDB I LOVE THIS MAN

If there's anything this man knows how to do is to be at the service of others, which is exactly how he shows his love.

Being in the Republican Guard conditioned him to automatically fix any problem within his sight and follow the orders of his superiors.

As soon as he got on that island, he fell back into that role like second nature, following the guidance of Jack while still commanding orders in his own way.

From the moment he realizes his feelings for you, expect him to become your personal bodyguard.

He isn't the type to baby you but like hell if he'd let you get yourself in any danger.

He would do everything in his power to protect you from the island's hazards.

Not to mention he's a complete romantic.

It doesn't matter if he currently has any other duties you will always be his first priority.

You have a problem with your tent, he's already fixed it. You feel the need to get away from the rest, he'll take you on a private walk on a secluded part of the beach. You're hungry? Oh wow, how did this five-course meal find its way here!

Tender touches and physical touch are his favorite way of receiving love.

For years, the only times that his skin touched another person’s, was to torture them.

Believing himself to be undeserving of compassion, he chose to isolate himself.

Also fearing he might lose those he cares about if he were ever to open himself up.

Then you come along.

Your outgoing yet gentle nature was enough to almost knock his feet out under him.

Being the friendly person that you are, it was common for you to be touchy-feely with the people you considered close.

That doesn’t mean it still didn’t throw him for a loop the first time you did it though.

The both of you were sitting next to each other around a fire during dinner when suddenly you leaned your shoulder against his.

Despite it being such a simple gesture, he couldn’t recall the last time he was on the receiving end of such a casual touch.

He is insanely touch-starved, so as the relationship between the two of you flourishes, he’ll start to long for the feel of you.

It comforts him knowing he has tangible proof to remind him he’s not alone.

Charlie Pace

This man will always speak what’s on his mind. For a long time, he’s been criticized for not measuring his words more carefully.

So don’t expect him to sugarcoat how much he cares and loves you.

He knows that his big mouth has put him in a lot of problems, but he will continue to use it because it got him your attention.

From the minute you catch his eye there's no way he's going to stay silent about it.

Hell, don't be surprised if he ends up writing a song about you.

He's aware that sometimes he says things that result in him being the butt of a joke, but he will always tell you the truth about his love for you.

In fact, he will go above and beyond to let you know that you're the only way he could ever care for.

What do you mean you feel insecure as if you don't have the beauty and grace of a goddess?

One thing he neglects to mention is that he's a spoiled little brat who loves gifts.

No matter how small or worthless you think it may be, to him it means the world coming from you.

Having dealt with addiction he's never maintained any object that held any financial value because he always sold it for a couple of extra bucks.

That is why your gifts serve as a physical reminder that he has changed and that he is allowed to be happy.

Things ranging from a flower to an item of personal value that you've given him he will guard with his life.

That includes your heart which is the greatest treasure you could've given him.

p.s. can you tell who my favorite character is based on this lol

#lost #lost 2004 #lost tv show #lost x reader #jack shepard #james sawyer ford #kate austen #sayid jarrah #charlie pace #jack shepard x reader #james sawyer ford x reader #kate austen x reader #sayid jarrah x reader #charlie pace x reader #lost headcanons #lost fanfiction #lost abc

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totothewolff · 1 year ago

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Daddy's Little Pet

+18 | one shot | Toto x reader | smut, daddy kink, size kink, power play.

Summary: You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life. Author's note: As a reply to the request made by @ xoxo_lily at The Wolff Pack Discord Server.

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

The second you entered the empty boardroom where Toto was waiting for you, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Your heart pounded hard as you gazed at the well-dressed boss. Toto's tall, big, powerful muscled silhouette claimed your eyes immediately. He looked even more massive in person.

A hiss of nervousness curled in your stomach as you approached the table while grabbing the seat next to him.

When he slid his chair to face you, just centimeters apart from you, you felt tiny. Even though both of you were sat down he towered over you with a notorious difference.

Oh, if you could bury your head in that broad and muscular chest in front of you.

Since Toto's aura of power mesmerized you, and your curiosity and attraction for him piqued, you decided to do an article on him for the upcoming issue of GearGrl.

Armed with a script and a microphone, you made your way to his private boardroom, where he takes video calls and deals with sponsors, press, and guests.

The smell of polished oak and leather filled the air, creating an alluring scent that is as arousing for you as the man himself.

His piercing eyes sized you up the second the door swung open and you stepped in.

You extended your hand at him, trying to hide the trembling nerves, rocking a bit in your chair. "Mr. Wolff, my name's Y/N. I'm a journalist from GearGrl magazine, and I'd love to chat with you for a feature article," you smiled, hoping this would ease your tension but went all the way around, the minute Toto placed his big warm hand on yours your mind went wild.

Toto's hand is double size yours. Fuck! He only added a little pressure on the handshake and you are already wetting yourself.

What would be like to have his entire body weight crushing you down against the sheets?

Toto's gaze shifted from your body towards your hand, squeezing it a bit. "Nice to meet you, little one. I don't have much time today. But, if you have specific questions about our team strategy or sponsorships, I'll be glad to answer," he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You swallowed hard and decided to push your luck. You tilted your chin upwards, meeting his gaze with a newfound boldness, he stared down at you due to the height difference, and a little smirk formed on his lips before you dared.

"Actually, I was hoping to pepper you with some questions about your life beyond the track. Your passions, your hobbies, that sort of thing."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before they narrowed on you. "I don't see how that is relevant to the teams' performance or our supporters," he said, his words snipped.

"Well, I believe that a man as influential as yourself, Toto, has a life worth exploring. Your devoted fans crave a glimpse into your world, and this interview would offer them just that."

The corner of his mouth twitched in a rueful half-smile as if you had struck a nerve. "Smart move, little one."

Then you pushed again, "Also you could inspire young enthusiasts by offering them a picture of a well-rounded individual."

"My stories might not paint the perfect picture.

I have made mistakes and faced challenges along the way," he warned you.

"No one is perfect, Toto, and that's what makes humans interesting." you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity in full bloom. Toto shifted his position and relaxed his body, sensing you getting closer. His big muscular tights spread a bit, and he rested his big hands on them.

"What kind of challenges did you face, if I may ask, Toto?" you dare.

A heavy sigh, "When I first took over as the TP at Williams, many doubted my capabilities. They saw me as nothing but a reckless, inexperienced playboy. But the team rallying behind me and our eventual success at the track fueled my persistence," Toto explained, his gaze lost in your lips. "I've fought battles at work and in my personal life, learning valuable lessons along the way."

Intrigued by his reveal, you asked, "Can you tell me about those battles in your personal life?"

"I don't know if my personal trials will make a good story. Still, there's one I could mention. When my monogamist first marriage began to crumble, my focus on building my career inadvertently added fuel to that fire. I found myself alone and devastated, with my kids miles away in a boarding school," Toto said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Immersed in his story, you wanted to know more. "Did finding love again play a role in your healing process and later success?"

He took a long moment before meeting your eyes again, the intensity of his stare was crazy. "Yes, love found me just when I needed it the most. I met a woman named Susie, who was warm, inviting, and able to understand my urges." The emphasis and deep voice Toto made saying those words, provoked you to quiver. "The ones my previous partners never could." He chuckled softly. "I'm not sure if it was fate or sheer luck."

"Your urges?" your voice echoed throughout the empty room, drowned only by the sound of your accelerated heartbeats.

"I have a constant hunger not only for winning, I..." his eyes are already lifting your skirt.

"What do you crave for?" your voice trembled, enjoying the forthcoming invitation.

"I can show you" his voice was deep and one of his long big fingers was already playing with the hem of your skirt.

Then you dare to intertwine your hand with Toto's as a "yes, please show me", you wanted so badly to lick those big long fingers of his and feel them inside your tiny pussy fingering you relentlessly. His Rolex watch sparkled under the lights and the ring on his right hand shined.

The conversation took an unexpectedly intimate turn. You couldn't explain it, but there was something about the way Toto spoke that tugged at your deepest desires.

Perhaps it was the boldness of the thing he just revealed, that Susie allowed him to have his cravings.

Whatever it was, you couldn't deny your body's response to his words. Every pulse of your heart echoed in your pussy, leaving you flushed and yearning.

You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life.

He guided you by the hand back to his office and onto the bulky trendy sofa. He pushed you down on it with ease, as if you were paper-thin.

"I won't be an easy lover to forget. But I don't do commitment or romance, only with Susie" he said.

You nodded in understanding, giving him what could only be described as a sultry smile. You wanted him to know you understood well what both of you were up for.

"My little pet" he growled before reaching for you. Your whole body trembled with anticipation as he touched your face gently, swiping his thumb across your lips. Toto was on his feet, making you feel even more small.

You parted your lips slightly, licking his thumb finger, the throbbing in your pussy escalating to an unbearable level.

Toto took this as his cue and pulled you closer, shifting your position with a firm and quick grip, leaving you now knees on the sofa and ass pinned against him.

Lifting your skirt, he rubbed himself against your tiny panties. Oh, the way he manhandles you!

You could feel his hardness pressed against your ass, his arousal evident. He lowered his lips to your ear, whispering huskily, "So you wanted a peek into the raw and real Toto Wolff? I warn you I will not hold back, my little pet." His gaze held yours with the confidence of a predator filling its hunger, and you licked your lips, letting him know you were ready for him.

Toto snaked his hand around, tangling his fingers through your hair, roughly tugging your head back to expose the hollow of your throat.

Your pulse hammered wildly under his harsh caresses as he trailed his lips from your jawline to that sensitive dip.

"Fuck," you gasped, unable to contain the reaction to his touch, knowing this was reckless, zero professional, and wrong but too far gone to care.

Despite his warning, you wanted Toto in a way that defied all logic and you were eager to prove you could handle whatever he gave you.

You could feel his erection trapped against the zipper of his pants. Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, popping the fastener of his trousers. In one swift motion, you pushed his pants and boxers down.

His cock sprung free, thick and long, jutting out from a pair of toned, muscular thighs. The sight of him left you breathless and overwhelmed with lust.

"Fuck, you are going to destroy my pussy with that cock!" you whispered.

He smiled smugly, obviously pleased with your reaction.

You couldn't help but stare as he stood there, completely naked and unabashed. He looked like a Greek god, powerful, perfectly sculpted, and unapologetically male.

"I think I deserve a bit of a peak into your personal side too," Toto murmured, his eyes alight with playfulness. His words caught you off guard, and you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"Remember when I thought I was here for work?" you said and chucked.

"Come suck me, pet" he gestured to you, and you immediately turned around, your ass now on the couch, sitting right in front of him, his dick at your face level due to your height difference.

You started gripping the solid length of Toto's aroused cock, you curved your fingers around him, stroking him gently, eager to satisfy his desperation.

Toto sucked a breath between his teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you pumped your hand along his length. Your hand looked tiny around his fat cock. Getting already nervous about how would you fit that thing inside your mouth.

Toto's hand gripped the base of his cock, guiding it towards your lips. "Open wide," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. Hunger burned in his gaze, and you could practically see the animal instincts of the man taking over. "Suck my cock," he demanded you, the forcefulness of his words sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You parted your lips as wide as possible, allowing him to slide his length into your mouth. You gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

Toto let out a low groan of satisfaction, his hips thrusting forward as he began to fuck your mouth.

You could feel his cock slid deeper, stretching you past the point of comfort. But you weren't complaining.

His salty taste filled your mouth, making you moan your approval. Toto slid his hands into your hair, gripping it tightly as he fucked your mouth in earnest.

You gagged again, but this time you didn't try to pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, taking him deeper into your mouth. You could feel him swell even further, and you slid your tongue along his shaft, creatively slurping at him.

Your eyes were so watery by now, but you didn't dare stop. You'd never seen a man look so entranced as Toto did at this moment, his eyes hooded and head rolled back in the pleasure of your mouth on him.

"Fuck, you take me so good, pet" he grunted, hips thrusting as his length slid in and out of your hot, wet mouth. "Keep going, my little pet, just like that."

You continued to pleasure him in this way until he suddenly pulled away with a hiss. Pre-cum glistened on your lips as you blinked up at him, seeking his approval, he looked so proud of you.

You looked like a total mess, all red on the cheeks, saliva all over your chin, watery eyes, and messy hair.

"Now to the couch, pet" he whispered darkly as he bent, lifting you with ease and tossing you onto the sofa.

You bounced once and landed right in the center.

The air left your lungs as he climbed on top of you, towering over you in all his glory, pushing your body against the fabric, your stomach and hips feeling the pain of Toto's body prisoning you.

His strong arms cupped your head, tilting your face towards his. Toto leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You gasped as his tongue delved between your lips, tilting your head to receive it, your fingers dragging up the muscles in his arms, tracing his veins, he tasted like espresso and the faint scent of stale mint, a carnal, masculine flavor that left you panting and breathless.

Your kiss deepened as he moved away, nibbling at your lips and the sensitive skin beneath your ear, causing you to whimper, with delight.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your curves and leaving behind a burning trail of where his mouth would follow.

"Toto, please," you begged, desperately craving to feel him inside you. Your mind was full of desire, and all you could concentrate on was the hard friction his erect cock set off through your body.

No response at the call of his name, so you dared.

"Daddy, please," you moaned, squirming beneath him. Immediately his hands pinned yours to the sofa. You arched into his touch, savoring the way he finally was exposing you, getting out of the way all clothing items between you.

Toto's gaze immediately fell between your legs, hungry and unyielding, lust radiated off him, staring at your wet folds.

His free hand caressed your breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You couldn't help but gasp as he explored you.

You could feel the dampness spreading along your thighs, revealing just how much Toto excited you. Your breath hitched as he moved lower, circling his thumb around your clit.

"Oh, Daddy," you cried out, your voice barely more than a whimper.

A low growl escaped his throat before he replaced his thumb with two fingers, pushing them inside you, tasting, teasing, and sending you into a whirlwind of emotions.

He fingered you hard, getting you wet and splashing drops around and provoking soaking sounds, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

The mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you was dizzying, till you were completely out of breath and begging him to allow you a breather.

Before the head of his big cock burst through the barrier of your tight entrance, stretching your pussy wider than you ever thought possible. Your eyes went wide as you felt him penetrating you.

You gasped, feeling the intense sensation of being filled to the brim. "Daddy!" you moan loud, your pussy throbbed around his cock as it slid in further. "Daddy!"

Toto growled a low, animalistic sound that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back slightly, then thrust you again and harder, this time driving deeper, ripping open your tight pussy even more.

You cried out, a mix of discomfort and delight coursing through you as he took you, possessing you in a way you only had dreamt of.

"Fuck, you're so tight, pet," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is so fucking tiny."

His cock slammed into you relentlessly, and you moaned in pleasure with each rough thrust, feeling your body buried more and more. Your stomach pressed hard against the furniture's fabric. You felt the sofa creaking.

Toto's fingers dug into your hips, leaving angry red marks on your skin. You wouldn't have it any other way.

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You clung to the sofa, your nails digging into the textile as he pounded you harder and harder.

You let out a strangled cry as he hit the spot deep inside you. His name spilled from your lips, a desperate plea for more.

Toto responded by increasing the pace of his pounding, his cock hitting you with a savage, powerful intensity that started to hurt. You will be limping tomorrow.

You could feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you open.

With your lips locked in a fiery kiss, you felt a wave of moisture flood between your legs in anticipation of your climax.

"Such a good little pet" he growled, his voice thick with lust. You kept feeling the sensitive humid folds of your pussy stretch to accommodate him, engulfing him inch by delicious inch.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, teetering on the edge of release, your body tensing as you got closer and closer.

"Daddy, please, I can't take much more of this." you moaned, gasping for air, buried under his entire weight.

He pulled back, his cock coming free with a slick, wet sound. You felt a surge of disappointment and confusion, but before you could even begin to process what had happened, he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over.

Your hands and back landed roughly on the couch as Toto pulled your hips up, his big hands grabbing your ass tightly and pushing you towards him with such force. The change in position left you feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, your pussy slit in full display for him.

Toto stepped closer, his hard cock brushing against your slit. You could feel the heat radiating from his length as he leaned down, his hips hovering above your pussy. "You want daddy to fuck his little pet like this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, daddy. I need to cum."

"Good pet," he murmured, his voice full of lust.

With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, making you cry out in pleasure-pain. Your muscles stretched and clenched around him, struggling to accommodate his girth.

Toto didn't give you a moment to adjust, pulling almost all the way in, and then out, before slamming back into you.

You were still sensitive from the earlier fucking, and you whimpered at the unexpected intensity.

"Oh, fuck, pet" Toto grunted, his fingers digging into your hips, rocking you towards him. He started pistoning into you, his massive cock splitting you wide open again, filling you completely.

With each thrust, you could feel yourself losing control, your sanity slipping away as he dominated you. Toto's powerful big hands gripped your small hips, pulling you back into him.

"Fuck, you wanted this, my little pet, don't you," Toto growled, his breath hot. "I can feel you clenching around me, trying to milk my cock. You're such a little slut, aren't you? Taking my cock like this and begging Daddy for more." Toto grunted, his balls smacking against your clit.

You could feel yourself getting close to the edge, your toes curling with each punishing thrust. "Yes, yes, oh god yeah!" you cried out, your voice hoarse from the pleasure-pain of being so thoroughly fucked.

Toto seemed to take this as a sign to speed up, you could feel him hitting your cervix with every stroke, a painful pleasure to possess you entirely.

"Yes, oh fuck yes, Daddy!" you screamed, your voice echoed through the office.

Your body began to tingle all over, a sure sign that you were close to orgasm. You held on to the sofa edge.

Toto's thrusting became erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own release. You could feel your climax building, every nerve ending trembling with the anticipation of release.

"Come for me, pet," Toto groaned.

Your legs were shaking, your muscles trembling, but you held on, desperate to cling to this incredible moment with every fiber of your being.

The room seemed to spin as you tried to focus on the sensation of Toto's cock as it filled you, pounding your body with a raw force that left you feeling small and powerless.

His fingers twisted in your hair as he traced your jaw with his tongue while his cock slid in and out of you.

You let out a moan as he angled himself deeper inside you, hitting your G-spot dead on. He started moving his hips in a slow grind, pressing every inch of himself against your inner walls.

"I bet you feel my dick stretching you? You like it when daddy owns you like this, hmm?"

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words as you submitted to him.

Toto's hand reached down, two fingers teasing your clit in time with his powerful thrusts. You arched your back, impaling yourself even further onto his hard shaft, urging him to continue the delicious torment.

He obliged instantly, expertly manipulating your clit as his cock ravaged your pussy, your hips bucking into every forceful thrust. Your pussy clenched and unclenched, desperately trying to hold onto him.

"Daddy, I'm cumming," you gasped.

Toto's thrusting became even more unhinged, his sweat-slicked body slapping against yours. You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you knew he was holding back too, waiting for you to go over the edge first.

"Fuck, call me daddy when you come," Toto groaned, his voice a guttural growl.

You felt your orgasm arriving, your muscles tensing as you let out a guttural cry. "Oh, daddy!" you moaned hard, as you finally came apart.

Toto groaned, his hips bucking as he sank himself to the hilt inside you, the pulse of your orgasm milked him, coaxing him closer and closer to his own release.

"Fuck, pet," he panted. "I'm so fucking close."

"Fill me up, Daddy," you gasped, still riding the waves of your orgasm. "Give it to me."

Toto's whole body tensed. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and let out a primal roar as he came hard.

You could feel the hot sprays of his release filling you up, and you moaned in pleasure as he emptied himself into you. Toto's cock throbbed and pulsed.

You stayed like that for a moment, your bodies heaving and trembling as you rode out the aftershocks of our intense climaxes.

Toto's body weight lifted from you, his sweaty chest pushing away slowly, as he reluctantly pulled out of you.

Your pussy throbbed and pulsed where he had filled it moments before, and you could feel his cum still trickling out of you, slicking up your inner thighs. You could feel the sweat drying on your skin, and your heartbeat beginning to return to normal.

"You were incredible, pet. I knew you would be, from the moment you entered." Toto said.

You smiled, still catching your breath as the words of praise washed over you like a warm embrace.

"I know, I'm daddy's little pet, after all."

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

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acupofinkedblood · 6 months ago

Note

Hello!! I saw you do a general request and I was wondering if I could put mine here? No pressure ofc! You can do this when you would like to! since I see you already have requests to work on! But may I ask how would the Phighters react to a reader who hates physical touch with anyone else except them? like the reader cuddles up to them in private and it’s kinda a shocker!

I mean sure! I did tell my customers that I do take general ask for the phighters, so I’ll oblige to my words as the teamaker ( ◠‿◠ ) Though it won’t be as detailed as my actual request. And as usual, Biograft excluded

Sword: Sword is pretty big on physical touch if not with basically everyone he deems to be ‘not so bad’ enough. He’s like a literal golden retriever that asked to be petted almost every single time from anyone in sight. So he was definitely surprised when seeing how much of the fuss you were making when others touch you a little. But then you only let him hold you, which does make Sword a bit curious. Yet he respects your wishes, even let others know about your reference loud and clear

Skateboard: He does notice that quirk of yours, and it amuses him. The way your face grimaces then shoo people away before gets back to his side. But at least it makes him feel privileged when knowing that you’re only that clingy when around him. Not to the point like an accessory, but he’s proud that you’re his official side piece at this point. Of course, he will be more than glad to fish you out of any situation you dislike

Katana: Amused is an understatement. Katana doesn’t understand why you only demand physical affection from him, yet he doesn’t question further since he knows that you might have your personal reasons for this particular behavior. He expects you to be like him, reserved and all. But then this? What a shocker. He definitely needs a moment to get used to this

Banhammer: Someone please teach this guy on emotional intelligence properly because it can be so much of a nuisance when dealing with him sometimes. He is so oblivious to the obvious change in your demeanor to the point you have to question on whether or not is he really blinded. He only thinks that it’s just how you are without doting too much about it

Rocket: You remind him of who he used to be when still living his days out on the street. He was also reluctant to physical touch with almost everyone, but not until he found someone he could trust with. Rocket understands your position, and it does amuse him a certain amount when seeing you so touch starved behind closed door like that. You do remind him of his younger self, carving for affection yet only from those you can trust completely in

Slingshot: He understands people’s boundaries, so he doesn’t push you when knowing that you’re not that into physical contact. However when you just cling onto him out of nowhere, Slingshot is pretty much dumbfounded by the sudden change in attitude. He might ask you questions to get that reassurance that you’re okay with this, that if you don’t want to then that’s fine. But then you already know the drill: This man is just stuck with you being a cuddle bug in private. Not that he minds much, he likes this anyway

Hyperlaser: To be honest, you remind this man of a cat. Maybe not Princess, but just a cat in general at how you have an attitude with strangers who try to approach you physically. At this point, giving you a pair of ears and a set of claws will be enough to make you an actual cat. Hyperlaser doesn’t mind you being clingy to him after going back home, as Princess does that a lots too. The only difference is that now he has to pay attention so he can cuddle the both of you at the same time, what a surprise

Shuriken: Doesn’t notice at first, but is still pretty accepting of the situation when you explain to him. Shuriken goes along with your wish, if you don’t like to be touched, that’s cool. If you suddenly feel comfortable enough to want him closer physically? That’s great to hear then! Sometimes he just genuinely forgets that you dislikes physical touch with everyone but him, hence the surprise when he sees you react certain ways to others. But overall, he is still fine with it

Scythe: Scythe will take that as a privilege of having you completely. She doesn’t care about whether or not you are touchy with others because at the end of the days, she knows that you’re hers. You do have quite the understanding of your manners after all. But it does bring a smirk onto her face when she realizes just how you dislike being touched but then completely glued to her side when there are only the two of you. It gives her this satisfaction that she can’t really put into words

Medkit: Like Katana, Medkit expects you to be anything but clingy. Sometimes he might act like he is bothered by it, but then he can’t really push you away from times to times. Medkit isn’t a big fan of physical touch, but something small like holding hand or a slight hug at first will be a good warm up to him before anything else. He will compare you to a cat at some point. Just don’t expect him to give you back the physical affection you want all of the time, he needs some personal space too

Boombox: Similar to Slingshot, Boombox respects your reference and tries his best to make things comfortable for you even when he’s pretty much a clingy guy himself. So when he witnesses the cuddly attitude of yours out of the blue, he is rather surprised yet recovering almost immediately and responds back to your hug with his own. He’s glad that he makes you feel safe enough to step out of your personal safe zone

Vinestaff: She is like this combination of both Shuriken and Slingshot in this aspect. She does respect your boundaries since the beginning of your relationship with each others, but when you get physical intimacy with her out of nowhere, she won’t make a fuss over it. She understands that maybe that’s just how you are, and she gladly accepts that little thing about you

Subspace: This bastard will make it a point to brag about like how much of a little shit he is. Don’t be surprised, you know that this is what might happen if you give Subspace that privilege of being physically intimate with knowing that you only do that to him. His ego will be shot up into the stars. Although he does get annoyed when you’re sticking to his hip all of the time when you two are alone, he doesn’t shoo you that often aside from when he is busy

Coil: Probably point that out almost immediately with no filter. This guy is just that, pardon him. He will ask you about why you’re so clingy to him in a moment and then turn around to glare at others almost immediately afterwards. He’s just curious about that specific thing about you, not that he is annoyed or anything. Not at all. He’s just curious about it. Coil doesn’t mind, but sometimes he might be an ass and not giving you the physical affection that you want until you have enough of the teasing

That’s all I have to say, I hope that this will satisfy you (⌒▽⌒)

#phighting x reader #x reader #phighting!#storyteller’s ramblings #sword x reader #skateboard x reader #katana x reader #banhammer x reader #rocket x reader #slingshot x reader #hyperlaser x reader #shuriken x reader #scythe x reader #medkit x reader #boombox x reader #subspace x reader #coil x reader

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milf0rd · 1 year ago

Text

UNSPOKEN FEELINGS

pairing. james beaufort x f!reader

summary. james realizes he has deeper feelings for lydia's best friend.

warning. slight cursing, mentions of cheating

word count. 1.4k

a/n: i just watched maxton hall and felt the urge to write a quick fic. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me! (divider is made by rookthornesartistry)

The prestigious campus of Maxton Hall Boarding School was a world itself, where the rich teenage life unfolded in all its complexity. Among its many students were James Beaufort, the charming and popular heartthrob, and his twin sister Lydia, known for her big mouth, but besides that, intelligence. (Y/N) was Lydia's best friend since they were toddlers, and because of that she often finds herself in the company of the Beauforts. Despite this, (Y/N) felt like a shadow, always in the background and unnoticed by James. His attractive presence draws attention, as he walks around the hallway, towering over others, always surrounded by admirers. Like everyone in the school, (Y/N) also had a crush on him, but she knew she would always be only his little sister’s friend. And she had long accepted that.

The (Y/L/N) family is famous internationally, because of their luxurious, high-quality dresses. They often collaborate with the market-leading fashion brand, Young Beaufort. But (Y/N) usually wished for just a simple way of life, without fame. All the children, who inherit their family’s legacy, are burdened by the weight of expectations and pressure.

To make things worse, it was a chilly afternoon when (Y/N)'s world shattered. She had been dating a boy from another school, a relationship that seemed promising but ended in betrayal and heartbreak. The boy had just played with her, and thrown away her without a second thought. (Y/N) was devastated and hurt.

Lydia was away on a school trip, leaving (Y/N) with her emotions alone. She wandered the campus aimlessly, eventually finding an isolated bench near the gardens, where she let the tears flow freely.

Unaware of (Y/N), James had noticed her distressed state from afar. He had been passing by when he saw her sitting alone, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Concerned, he approached quietly, unsure of how to begin.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, startling them. "Are you okay?"

(Y/N) quickly wiped her tears, attempting to make herself presentable. "Oh, James. I'm fine. Just... having a rough day."

James sat down beside her, his expression gentle but insistent. "You don't look fine. What happened?"

The unexpected kindness in his voice broke through (Y/N)'s defences. She looked at him, eyes filled with pain, and sighed. "It's just... this guy I was dating. He turned out to be a jerk. He used me and then just... dumped me."

James's jaw tightened, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Who is he?"

"It doesn’t matter. He’s not from Maxton Hall." (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

When James heard the pain in her voice, he decided to deal with her now, and it will be enough later to get to know about that asshole. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). You didn't deserve that."

(Y/N) shook her head, feeling small and insignificant. "I should have seen it coming. I'm not exactly someone would notice."

James frowned, shifting closer. "That's not true. People notice you, (Y/N). I notice you."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "You... notice me?" she said with irony.

James was confused, but nodded, his gaze sincere. "Of course I do." (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat hearing those words. "You're important to Lydia, which makes you important to me. And beyond that, you're a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life."

The warmth in his words and the intensity of his gaze made (Y/N) feel a flicker of hope. She had always seen James as someone out of reach, but here he was, sitting beside her, offering comfort and understanding.

"Thank you, James," she whispered, feeling the weight of her sadness begins to lift. "It means a lot."

James smiled softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze hers. "I do care about you, (Y/N). And if that guy couldn't see how amazing you are, then he's the one who's missing out."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the cold air around them a sharp contrast to the warmth blossoming in (Y/N)'s heart. James's presence was a balm to their wounded soul, a reminder that she was not alone.

"Do you want to talk more about it?" James asked, his voice gentle. "Or maybe we can just sit here for a while. Whatever you need."

(Y/N) smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude and a newfound connection. "Sitting here is nice. Thank you, James," she said feeling his arms pull her into a hug.

As they sat together, (Y/N) realized that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about James’s emotions towards her. Perhaps he had been seeing her all along, and in this moment of weakness, she had realised that her feelings for her had not changed over the years.

The weeks following that emotional afternoon saw a gradual but significant shift in the dynamics between James and (Y/N). Where once their interactions were only about polite nods and casual greetings, now there were shared moments, conversations, and a growing sense of friendship.

James found himself looking forward to seeing (Y/N) more than he ever anticipated. Her presence was comforting, her laughter infectious, and her perspectives refreshing. He was drawn to (Y/N) in a way that was new and unexpected, and it unsettled him in the best possible way. He finally had to admit that he had lied to himself all the years when he said he didn’t care about (Y/N).

(Y/N) felt the change too. She was still close to Lydia, but now James seemed to seek her out independently. He'd join them for lunch, walk with them between classes, and even invite them to hang out with his friends, to where (Y/N) always refused to go and eventually Lydia accepted it. It was confusing but exhilarating.

One evening, while Lydia was busy with her extracurricular activities, James invited (Y/N) to study with him at a cosy coffee shop off-campus. They settled into a quiet corner, books and notebooks spread out before them.

"You know," James said, looking up from his notes, "I never realized how much fun studying could be until I started doing it with you."

(Y/N) laughed softly, their cheeks flushing. "I have never thought that once in my lifetime I will hear that from the mouth of James Beaufort, but I think you just enjoy the coffee and the company."

James smiled, but there was a depth to his gaze that made (Y/N) look away shyly. "You're right about that. But it's more than that. You're different, (Y/N). In a good way. You make everything better."

(Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. "Thanks. Spending time with you isn't that bad either."

As the weeks went on, James's feelings for (Y/N) deepened. He found himself thinking about her at odd times, daydreaming about their future conversations, and feeling jealous when he saw her with others. It was during one of these moments when he saw (Y/N) laughing with Cyril, that he realized the truth: he had fallen for (Y/N).

The next day, James asked (Y/N) to meet him in the gardens where they had first bonded. The air was cool, the sky painted with the hues of sunset.

"(Y/N)," James began, taking a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."

(Y/N) looked at him, concern flickering in their eyes. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking a lot, and I realized something important," he continued, his voice steady but his heart racing. "That day when you sat with me here, something changed for me. Spending time with you, getting to know you better... I've come to realize that I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

(Y/N) stared at him, her breath catching in their throat. "James, I... I-"

James stepped closer, his eyes locked on her. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know how I feel. Whatever you decide, our friendship means a lot to me, and I don't want to lose that."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, but they were tears of happiness and relief. "James, I feel the same way. I've liked you for a long time, but I never thought you'd feel the same."

James's face broke into a radiant smile, and he reached out to gently hold (Y/N)'s face in his hands. With that, James leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a perfect blend of nervous excitement and genuine affection.

As they pulled away, both of them breathless and smiling, James whispered, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

(Y/N) smiled back, her eyes shining with happiness. "Me too."

#james beaufort #james beaufort x reader #maxton hall #maxton hall fanfiction #james beaufort fanfiction #james beaufort imagines #james beaufort x you #damian hardung #damian hardung x reader #maxton hall the world between us

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ch4nb4ng · 8 months ago

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Pairing: Han Jisung X afab!reader

Word count: 9.7k

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers (stoned college edition

Warnings: 18+ explicit minors do not interact. Substance use, sexual acts under the influence of substance use, Kissing, naked bodies, mentions of genitals, fingering, handjob, orgasm, mentions of semen

Tag list: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree

@kpopsstuffs

Note: HEY guys, its been a while, and like actually a while this time.... Had this sitting in the draft for almost a year. Life has very much gotten in the way but i am back hopefully, with the aim of engaging in writing when I feel like and no pressuring myself. Anyways, it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy.

Summary: There was a blizzard, resulting in your college dorm being blocked from all human interaction. Things are about to, however change when your childhood best friend, and wall neighbour comes over and has other things in mind to pass the time with weed included as one of them.

The first time living away from your family and by yourself was an experience that you very much valued. No curfews, no worrying about what your parents were going to say when you’ve had several drinks at a party, and definitely no nagging to make your bed everyday. Make no mistake, you loved your parents and siblings a lot, it was just nice sometimes to have the complete privacy that was your dorm room every now and then.

There were moments that you did become homesick. On the contrary to having your own private, personal space, especially during the trying moments of completing long winded assignments, studying for exams, or even just having the feeling of familiarity when you hugged somebody that was your blood. There were always pros and cons to living an independent college life. At this current moment in time, you were experiencing one of the more annoying parts of living in a college building.

Deep into the winter seasons of the year, while also living in a state that was known for having extreme weather patterns during this time of the year was your least favorite part. Once the news alerted ‘warning, blizzard storm approaching in the next 48 hours,’ you knew that the college would be sending an official email, urging students to stay in the dorms, and barricade all exits.

This was where you were currently at.

Lying in your bed, phone up to your face as you reassured your family through facetime that you were fine and had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

“You guys know the drill,” you smiled, “I’m fine, two days in and I am alive and well, just a little bored.”

“Okay well don’t forget that Jisung’s mother and I got those rooms next to each other so you guys always have a little bit of company.”

“Yes mom I know,” you laughed, “I might text him later. He had an assignment due this afternoon and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay love, we will talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The sound representing the end of the call rang through the speaker of your phone. The object fell on your chest as you let out a loud sigh, your boredom growing with each second.

Jisung. Han Jisung was someone that could be labeled as many different things to you. Friend, confidant, best friend, study buddy; home. Jisung was the jack of all trades in your book.

Knowing each other since the two of you were 10, meeting at a weekend competition of playing mixed teams basketball bloomed into a relationship you didn't know was even possible to have with a man. Jisung was the friend that kind of just stuck, even planning to go to the same college as you. It was a packaged deal, you and him, but it made you laugh, because the two of you could not be more of the opposite. Jisung was the shyer type. Although you met through sporting engagements, that was more something that his parents put him into to see what he liked. He was very intelligent, a strong preference to have his head in the books rather than going out to a new party every weekend. Make no mistake, Jisung was a very polite individual, always talking to those that gave the time. However, he was much more comfortable with people that he knew. In contrast, you were a social butterfly, able to make friends every corner you turned. Parties and drinking every weekend; anywhere but the was where the majority of your time was spent.

Therefore, when all the buildings on campus were closed, it drove you crazy. There was nothing that could be hated more than being forced to stay inside in your eyes. The confinement always made you reconsider why it was here, in this state, that you chose to attend college. But it was when you heard a knock on the door that you were reminded why. Leg flopping out of your bed sheets, they dragged you to the door, your body sprinkled in warmth when you opened it to your kind looking friend who happened to be smiling back. Your body turned to the side, hand out as he strolled into your apartment, plopping down on the couch like it was his own. You quickly followed, taking the spot next to him as you turned to face him.

“Are you bored yet?”

“Of course I am,” you sigh, walking in front of Jisung as you walk into the living room of your apartment and sitting on the couch, head in your hands, leaning forward so much that you could almost fall off the couch “as if it took you this long to realise.”

“Y/n, the email was only sent out 4 hours ago.”

“Yeah but there was supposed to be a party tonight at Changbin’s frat,” you whined, lips fully pouted, “I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, placing his hands behind his head, legs kicked out on the small table in front of him, “it’s a real shame that the party is canceled.”

Your best friend managed to avoid eye contact, voice dripping with sarcasm. To be truthful, you knew that even though he would go with you, to make sure you're safe of course, and DEFINITELY for that reason only, Jisung would never choose to willingly go to such a party. It wasn’t that he was a complete prude little innocent boy, no. There had been a multitude of times where you could hear him, or the other girls that failed to stay quiet and not echo through the paper thin dorm walls. Jisung just simply wasn’t the type to go out to parties, especially when everyone there was a slobbering mess on one substance or another, especially you. There was a feeling that if you were merely a stranger to him, Jisung would most likely, outside of classes, be a ghost. A myth that supposedly walks down the hallways of your college. Seeing as the two of you were opposite in that regard, you tried to respect Jisung as much as possible. Not bringing your bong, joints, or excessive amounts of alcohol whenever he came over, because you knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would also do the same. Jisung only had the occasional puff anyway, much less than you, so the need to have it around constantly felt unnecessary.

“Try not to ooze with excitement,” you raised your eyebrows, a fake smile plastering across your lips as you failed to see his attitude change. Good old Jisung for you.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Anyway,” you replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote, pressing the small red power button in the top right corner, watching the plasma screen light up with the logo belonging to Netflix. You turn again to the man beside you, a warmth feeling in your chest at how placid he looked, patiently waiting for you to put something on.

“Is there anything you would like to watch for the next 12 hours?”

Yes, 12 hours. That was you being optimistic that this storm would be quick.

“Hmm,” Jisung hummed, bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, thinking about what to watch, “there isn’t anything I’ve been keeping up with.”

“Ah I see. Shall we just scroll until we find something we like?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Clicking on your profile, the first row of TV shows were ‘Watch it again,’ followed by ‘Top hits for Y/n.’ Nothing really caught your eye, or his seeing as he would say something if he did. It wasn’t until your ‘continue watching for y/n’ that you gasped, loud. The word ‘Bridgerton’ has popped up in continuing. At first you were confused. Although you were an avid lover of that show, you had not watched it recently. It wasn’t until you selected it that you realized a new season had come out. Jisung remained puzzled, seeing as this was not something he had a remote interest in watching.

“Oh my god Jisung can we-”

“No man,” he complained, “you know this is the last thing I would want to watch.”

“Please,” you begged, placing your hands in the form of a prayer, remote still in hand, “it’s so good I beg of you please to just consider. I’ll do anything.”

“Ugh fine,” he hissed, “but I cannot be 100% sober for this shit.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, displaying a look of confusion. This was the thing you would expect someone like Jisung to say.

“Hmm ok,” you hummed, still slightly confused, “I’ll get my stash of vodka.”

“Hmmm no,” he shrugged, a slightly suggestive glimmer on his face, “something that will be long-lasting, if you’re catching my drift.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows repeatedly, leaving your mind to imply one substance only. Weed.

“You want to smoke, really?”

“Yes y/n, I want to smoke weed, is that ok with you?”

“Of course it is,” you reassured, “you know that if you were here or not I would probably do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Done.”

“Okay, and we have to watch from the beginning or I will go back to my room.”

“Yes yes okay fine,” you leaned over, pressing a grateful kiss on his cheek, “you’re the best. I’ll get my stash now.”

You scurried off to your room, quickly, opening the small draw on your side table next to your bed. Your stash, the prized possession that was the calm before the storm. Smoking in your downtime was something that you very much looked forward to, especially if you were unnecessarily stressed out. Your face lit up and the clouds of dark green hue clouded the plastic bag that was in your sight, fingers grasping the edge as you wiggled back to your original spot. Although you agreed, it was strange of your friend to want to just smoke out of boredom. The only time you had seen him do it was at small gatherings, and even then, it was one puff and done, usually followed by heavy chest hitting coughs. It always made you laugh. It also made you feel bad, knowing that if he didn’t hang around with you, he probably wouldn’t do these kinds of things. Jisung was an adult who could make his own decisions, but there was always part of you that thought about him, his family; would they approve of him doing this? It was a lot to think about sometimes.

It was Jisung’s turn to hold the remote, flicking back to season 1 episode 1, before scooching closer to you. Jisung was keen to get in on the action, something you were definitely not used to. He went to reach for the paper, but you grabbed him by the wrist, making him pause for a moment.

“Jisung, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he smiled, unsure why you were asking such a question, “it’s not the first time I’ve done it y/n, relax.”

“Yeah I know,” you shrugged, “it’s just, I’ve only seen you smoke once, and you looked like you were about to cough up your lungs.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away in embarrassment, “you saw that?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”

“Yeah well I can do it,” he barked, somewhat getting defensive, pointing at the TV to deflect from his deficits “you’re making me watch this shit.”

“Okay okay,” you whined, letting go of his wrist, “but please let me show you how to roll and smoke a joint properly so you don’t actually hurt yourself.”

The two of you giggled simultaneously, resulting in Jisung reluctantly nodding in agreement. He watched closely as he watched you open both bags, paper on the right, weed on the left.

“Okay so,” you began to speak, “firstly,” you paused again, using your index and middle finger on your right hand to slide into the plastic, “I like to slide my fingers in like this, touching the least amount of paper possible.”

Jisung pushed his lenses right up to his face, making sure his concentration was avid; missing a step was not an option for him. Once the sheet was out of paper, you placed it on top of the plastic. You like to take pride in your work, especially being a part time stoner, of your supplies. Seeing as it cost you a significant amount, it felt wrong to not get the best out of your product.

“Then,” you continued, “you get the bag with the goods, and I like to,” pausing again, opening the bag and grabbing one cluster, “just crush it in my fingers as small as I can, and sprinkle it in a line across the center.”

He nodded again, observing how smooth your fingers were, fingertips sprinkling green across the white square placed in the table.

“Are you following?”

“Of course,” he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows to show his concentration. Jisung swallowed a nervous gulp, remembering that he really had no idea what he was going to do when he coughed his lungs up one more time. Yes, he was concentrating on how you did it, but he couldn’t help it. His cognitions were descending into the gutter, especially watching the two fingers he tended to use when he was in lewd acts himself. It made him nervous.

Sure, there were intrusive thoughts about you being a part of his fantasies and desires, but Jisung knew better than to act on something that came from pure lust. Instead, pressing his lips together, attempting to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. You, however, were too smart to not notice him suppressing his laughter. Your elbow nudged his side, a sheepish gaze as you began to question him.

“What’s so funny?”

“What,” he questioned, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head, patting your arm, “keep going.”

You decided to shrug it off, not letting his immaturity obstruct you from your prized possession. Next was the rolling. Lifting the paper with the utmost precaution, the material was brought to your lips, tongue sticking out as your lips lay a thin layer of saliva to coat the edge of the paper.

“See what I did with my tongue?”

‘Oh god,’ was all Jisung could think, mind once again heading straight to the gutter. All he could think about was what your tongue, if it was positioned under a different appendage, how different it could be. His testosterone was raging, but once again, he knew better. To Jisung, nothing could be worse than putting his own selfish wants ahead of your friendship. However, the longer he stared at you practically making out with the joint, licking it up and down, side to side, making sure the two ends stuck together, the harder it became to push his thoughts away from such dirty crevices of his mind. The torture was over for him once you withdrew the now complete joint from your lips. You were satisfied with how it turned out, a smile of approval, and a hint of arrogance plastered on your face.

“And that’s how you do it. Now your turn.”

“Ok,” he sighed, “swap spots with me so I can do it.”

“Yes sir,” you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes you obeyed, allowing your best friend to now sit in front of the two bags. He followed your steps with ease, using great precision with his fingers to eject the weed and paper from each plastic container. He was natural. Only the two fingers, being the same ones you, strategically rolling the two digits back and forth. He was swift, nimble, adjectives you normally liked to use when you felt the touch of a man. It was your turn to swallow nervously, a small pit of arousal brewing in your lower abdomen as the small pelts of green substance dissipated across the center of the paper, just like you did. Holy shit, how could something as simple as rolling a joint be so attractive? Jisung brought a hand to his hair, running it quickly through the brown mop to get it out of his face, aiming to let no obstacles get in his way. He gave you one look, a gaze of concern when he noticed your eyes glued to his hands.

“You okay?”

Your eyes shot straight to his, attempting to not be mesmerized by the joyful expression covering his features. Fuck, why was his smile having such an impact on you right now? He chuckled, assuming that you were just playing around, but in reality, you were definitely distracted by the attractiveness of your friend with a sudden fresh washed mop of brown hair, glasses, and shining complexion of the side of his face as the light from the window cascaded across the high points of his cheeks. You faked a smile, nodding as you egged him on to continue. Panic began to settle in however when you saw the bare tip of his tongue coating the corner of the white material. Holy shit, he really was a natural. Licking the edge right across in one swift motion, not using too much saliva, yet still using enough. It was almost offensive how much better his joint looked compared to yours. But that was just what Jisung was: a perfectionist with little effort in trying to attain said perfection. He didn’t stray too much out of the norm, yet when he did try something, he was always good at it from the first try. Sometimes it made you wonder what other things he would be good at. But that was for another time, with a similar mindset in the fact that a brief thought of sexual fantasy was not worth more than your friendship. Especially if he didn't reciprocate, the awkwardness after would be something you most definitely could not handle.

“Woah,” you gasped, grasping the joint out of his hand, intensely observing it from each angle, “I knew you would be good at this.”

Your best friend beamed at your approval, eagerly waiting for the next step.

“Oh my lighter, I’ll go grab it now.”

You forgot before, but this gave you time to completely subtract those devil filled thoughts of Jisung by not looking at him for a brief moment. It worked, because as soon as you opened the drawer and saw your lighter, all you could focus on was lighting that shit up.

Coming back to the living room once more, you placed the fire breathing object on the table, offering Jisung to go first. He looked hesitant, unsure how or where he should start. It was adorable when Jisung was like this, because he was clueless not very often. You decided to pick it back up, pressing the flicker down once to ignite the flame.

“Do you want to go first, or would you like me to go first?”

“Uhm,” he hummed, “I think you should go first, you know, show me how to do this shit properly.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, letting go of the flicker on the lighter, handing it over to him, “well I usually don’t light my own joints so would you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he purred, the smoothness of his tone delivering a sudden pulse to your core. You leant forward, completely forgetting that your clothing was completely revealing by all means. The looseness of your long sleeve white shirt was telling, the action of leaning forward exposing the subtlety of your cleavage. You could see Jisung’s eyes travel straight to them, but only for a brief moment. He was trying to be as respectful as he could, but it was impossible when your chest was right there. His thumb dragged with ease, flame luminous as he brought the orange tipped flame to the edge of your joint. The tip turned dark immediately, and the taste of the herb came with that. The sensation was immediate, as you grabbed the joint with two fingers, pulling the object away from your lips and letting the warmth of the smoke spilling, down your chest, and back up again, eyes fluttering shut as you puffed the smoke from your lips, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you.

Jisung watched you in awe, amazed at how easily smoking came to you. He wanted to try so bad. He wanted to prove to you that he could do something that you did not expect of him. But he was patient, waiting for you to open your eyes before he started.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in pure bliss, lifting your eyelids slightly, “that is some good shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yessss,” you hissed, grabbing onto his hands holding the lighter, sliding it out of his hand “your turn. Place the joint between your lips and lean forward.”

Jisung did as he was told, adjusting his positioning to being abnormally close to you. You didn’t pay much mind, the small flame igniting once again, but you paused, almost forgetting that he in fact did now know what he was doing.

“Ok so once I light this,” you paused, using your free hand to squeeze his jaw, “are you listening?”

His eyes widened at your sudden touch, a small nod which was obstructed by your somewhat firm grasp.

“Ok so once I light this, take a small breath in, hold for a second, and blow it out.”

“Yes maam,” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes before you passed him the bud, waiting for him to grasp it between his two fingers. When he does, still keeping his eyes on you, simultaneously feeling your brain drop slightly at how intense his gaze was in this very moment, lips forming into the shape of an o as the paper came to his lips, taking the smallest puff, and blowing it out. You were impressed, seeing this was the first time he smoked anything without coughing his lungs out. A smile came to your lips, proud of your best friend in the moment.

“Woah,” he sighed, finally breaking his stare, eyes changing towards the blunt. His chest descended as he took another puff, turning back to face the tv as his back gently slid into the couch.

“How was that?”

“Is it crazy that I already feel more relaxed than before?”

His response made you giggle, glad he was enjoying himself.

“I told you,” sighing as you snatched the blunt from his grip, taking a long drag, “I only smoke the high quality stuff.”

“Sure do,” he growled, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Jisung grabbed the remote, pressing play on the TV, greeted by a girl in a royal style gown. He forgot that it was Bridgerton that got him here in this predicament.

***

It did not take much for the two of you to feel the consequences of smoking. One thing you hated to admit was that you craved the presence of someone next to you when under the influence. But not just like in your orbit no. Like needing a lack of personal space. To be suffocated. Which is why the two of you were sitting the way you were now. Your legs atop of his own, head buried into his chest, with your arms wrapped around his torso.

The intrusive thoughts always won when you were high, which is how your fingertips came to be not just on your best friend, but under his shirt, skin to skin contact. You couldn’t deny that the texture of his defined build, muscles budding at each ridge was hard to miss.

Bridgerton had been playing, but if anything, at this point, it had become background noise, the main noise becoming the tension that thickened between the two of you with each passing minute. Although the relationship was close,the idea of intimacy was never something that had come up as a thought. Sober you, and sober him, would never do such a thing. Feeling that maybe it would cross a boundary.

But the usual thought did not cross your mind. Or his for that matter, Jisung’s digits generously spread across the outside of your thigh, dangerously close to your behind. It felt nice, honestly. Yes, you had your fair share of one night stands. Male attention followed you, easily, whether you were looking for it or not. With that being said, however, it had been a while since you remembered what a real man's touch felt like. Especially your best friend. Being a biology major, Jisung was consistently practical in the lab, using his hands in the most intricate ways. Whether looking at a small piece of bacteria in a microscope, or dissecting an organ of some sort, he was always using his hands, and boy, was that evident when you felt the texture of his callous palms spreading across the back of your leg.

The puffing came to a halt, joint burning down halfway to its bud, but it was enough to heighten your senses. The two of you looked at each other, eyelids a little more droopy than usual as the both of you giggled, looking back at the TV. By the time the two of you were actually paying attention to the storyline, Daphne and Simon were getting married.

“So what’s the premises?”

“Premises?” You giggled, finding humor in your best friend’s speaking mishap.

“Yeah like,” he paused, maneuvering your body to be closer to his, leaving now no room on the couch between the two of you, “like what’s the show about.”

“It’s a period romance show based on a series of books.”

“Ohh, I thought you didn't like to read, you fucking nerd.”

“Oi,” you nudged him, completely missing the side of his arm and falling onto his chest, “I don't, that’s why I'm watching the show instead.”

“Right, anyway, go on.”

“Right, so Daphne and Simon basically pretended to be together so this other guy, creepy as fuck, wouldn’t have to marry her. But then they realized they developed feelings for each other but are both inendial about it so they're discussing the topic on their wedding day and just going through with it because it was too late for them to change their mind.” If either of you did not see the irony in this situation.

“That literally made no fucking sense,” Jisung sighed, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, “but to be honest, I really can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Damnnn,” you gasped, leaning up to look at him, “you’re high.”

“Yeah pfft,” Jisung hummed, keeping his glazed eyes focused on you, “I feel like I can just say or do anything right now.”

“That’s the beauty of smoking Ji,” you smiled, turning away and facing the screen. It was at this point that married TV couples were in their honeymoon suite. If you were being honest, it was hard to keep up with the dialogue due to the speed and the actual content being in old english. It was much less difficult to follow the visuals, their facial expressions, how they spoke. It was still captivating, watching the two actors get close and closer, right until their lips met. As they continued, the room felt silent yet tense. The two of you watched adamantly as things began to heat up, Simon assisting Daphne in undressing herself. It was then that you felt Jisung adjust himself under your legs, brushing him off of you as he sunk back into the couch. You thought it was strange, but you decided it was better to ignore it, remembering how mesmerizing the scene of Daphne and Simon making love for the first time really was. As they moved to their new bed, Simon hovering over Daphne’s innocent body, a new sensation was forming in your lower abdomen, but it didn't stop there, unmistakably flying right to your core, again. While recalling how mesmerizing this particular scene was, you also forgot how much it aroused you simultaneously. This was a mistake. Being high and horny was not a good combination, especially when Jisung, your best friend, was sitting next to you, previously with his hands on you. It was probably better to disregard these lustful feelings, they surely would pass.

“Oh shit,” Jisung mumbled, grasping for the small decorative pillow next to him, placing it over his crotch area, “this is um, wow, it’s uh-”

“Yeah I kinda forgot,” you replied before facing him, noticing the now pillow covering the beginning of his lower limbs. At first you were confused, eyebrows furrowed at why he would do such a thing. Instead of minding your business, and beating the paranoia of not knowing what he was doing that was amplified after smoking, you were now holding the pillow, the sounds of Daphne’s moans and groans the only noise that could be heard. As soon as Jisung noticed your grip on the pillow, he resisted you, not wanting you to see what was happening underneath the soft object.

“Jisung,” you laughed nervously, genuinely confused at his behavior, “what are you doing with my pillow.”

“Nothing,” he hushed, attempting to dismiss your question with the tone of his voice floating thin into the air, “keep watching.”

He pointed at the screen, head nodding in the same direction as you let go of the pillow and focused on the TV. But that was the worst mistake you could have made, because it was Simon’s turn to undress, and once he did, it really was game over. The two of them there, completely naked as he began to thrust into his new wife. Simon’s grunts were short, staccato like, while Daphne was more graceful, each moan spilling into her husband's ear as the two of them went at it.

“Fuck this is making me really horny.”

As soon as your best friend said that, he brought his fingers to his lips, leaving your jaw dropped. Did he really just say that, or were you hallucinating?

“Woops,” Jisung mumbled, “the weed is really making me lose my filter. Sorry.”

You should have hated that he blurted that out. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, especially when high, was not a good sign. But it brought the ache that momentarily dulled right back. Looking back at the screen, Jisung now removed the pillow and revealed his full hard on through his thin fabric sweatpants: it was becoming too much. Now suddenly, the only thought that stayed consistent was wanting the same thing on the TV. Right here. Right now. With Jisung. Your best friend.

“Don’t be sorry,” you cooed, moving closer to him, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.”

He said nothing, only gasping in a subtle manner as Jisung looked at you, all of a sudden your features projecting to him as illustrious, appetizing. Jisung wanted nothing more than to devour you in the current moment.

“Is this normal?”

Jisung’s voice was so nonchalant, tone lacking concern or hesitation at your lack of proximity. It was kind of adorable, really. The normal friend you knew was one to freak out if he ever did something like this. Usually so prim and proper in every setting. In contrast, there was something sexy about the way he was acting. Sure, actions had consequences, but thinking with clarity was not a priority.

“I would say so,” you purred, voice soothing as your fingers crept onto the front of his knee closest to you, “weed makes me horny too.”

“O-oh,” his voice shook, suddenly a little nervous by the prospect of you touching him in a possibly arousing way, “Y/n.”

Jisung’s voice was breathy, chest heaving very slowly as his eyes shot down to your body. Suddenly, your best friend was amazed by every single curve and creativity of your figure. As he brought his hands to your behind, it suddenly felt so soft, hands unforgivingly slipping past the waistband of your shorts, making direct contact with your skin. The contact made you hot, using your free hand to fan yourself. Jisung took the hand of yours that was moving deathly slowly along his inner thigh off of him, body now on his side facing you as he withdrew his hand groping your ass. Instead, he moved it around to the front, but rather than dipping straight into your folds, he slipped in the layer under your outer layer, opting for the space inbetween, digits spreading across your core covered by the miniscule fabric.. It was better this way, he thought. The sensation of touch was much more sensitive under the influence as he wanted to feel every texture of your body that was possible. You giggled at the brush of his gentle touch, a small gasp quickly following up once you realized that his fingers, although not making direct contact, were feeding that arousal felt between your legs. Like scratching an impossible itch. His eyes were already on you when your neck turned, facing him.

“Shit,” you breathed, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’m barely touching you,” he hissed, lips getting closer to your own. What is happening right now? You should be saying no; rejected his advances. Your best friend. Jisung. The shy, little boy you had known him to be all of his life. But the longer his fingers pushed around that sensitive button of yours, the more your legs spread open for him, hips gently bucking to reach for more surface area of his fingers. His confidence was charming, almost too much so. It made you want more and more, so much so that your internal conflict of stopping and telling him to keep going was disappearing with each lingering moment. Rationality, once a perplexity in your mind disappeared the moment his lips landed on yours. God they were sweet, soft; every texture that you know felt pleasant was coming to your mind the moment they moved against your own. His free hand came to the side of your face that was farthest away, index finger spread across your jaw as he moved his tongue, deeper and deeper, maintaining his dominance over you. Fuck he was a good kisser, a whine erupting from your throat at how flexible his mouth was, bending over backwards to make sure that you were happy with the pace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from a brief moment to remove all bottoms, panties included. All your best friend could do was chuckle, deeply, the shade of his eyes turning as dark as you had ever seen when he saw your bare pussy out, for him. His fingers latched on immediately, using the index and middle finger on one hand to spread your lips, the other fingers on the opposite hand barely scratching your clit. The feeling almost made you wriggle out of your seat, mouth agape across Jisung’s cheeks in a sloppy effort to maintain composure of any sort.. Everything was happening so fast. All it took was barely one scene for the two of you to let down your guards. Pretending that your friendship meant nothing. It was never friendship. Jisung would be a ghost to you if the two of you had not been friends since childhood. Maybe there were in fact other reasons that the two of you stayed this way. The moans and groans of the girls he would have over, filling up the bare distance between your room and his, always had an effect on you. It was then when you started to question what he did to those girls to make them feel so good that you were doomed. It was easy to act like a crazy party girl in front of him, knowing that he would never want to be with someone like that, and by doing that, it would push those little feelings right down to where you had the ability to forget them. Avoidance was always key.

But then Jisung would bring you food while you were up doing an assignment, buy you a bouquet of flowers when it was your birthday. Even the way he would talk to your siblings back at home was enough. Jisung was enough and maybe now, by getting these hormonal feelings out, which felt like heaven, was enough to admit that this would not be just a high rendezvous for you, but something real.

“You’re like really wet,” Jisung hummed, sliding his fingers closer and closer to your whining entrance, “always wondering how you would’ve felt like this.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jisung replied, sarcastic, as if it was super obvious, “all the time.”

“Fuck that’s so hot,” you moaned, gripping his wrist, bringing the digits specifically up to your lips for a moment, taking his DNA into a deep thorating motion The two fingers he was about to use now utterly drenched in your slick before navigating them down your body, circling your entrance before effortlessly plunging them straight into your hole. Jisung could have creamed himself then and there. Due to the sensitivity of his first time being high, he knew that if he was going to fuck you today, he truly would not last long, at all. But instead of ruining the moment that way, he decided to make it all about you. Wanting to view you squirm under him, make his best friend: you feel good. It is something he has been patiently waiting for. Jisung was a giver, and if he wanted to give you a toe curling orgasm on your couch to make you happy, he was going to do so, whatever it took.

As soon as he fingers reached the end of your whole, the two of you moaned in unison, the sound of squelch that was your arousal already an intense volume.

“D-don’t think I’ve been this wet before,” you whined, waiting for Jisung to gently pull them out.

“Really,” he questioned, genuinely baffled, “no one ever made you this wet before? Find that hard to believe.”

Your hips wriggled, desperate to feel the friction of him moving back and forth. However he was so mesmerized by the texture of your velvety walls against his digits, that he used his other hand, coated in your slick, to relieve himself, the encounter resulting in Jisung becoming much too impatient to bother taking his pants off. Your eyes shot straight to the small motion you were witnessing of him moving his hand against his cock. Oh, his length must feel so good like this. Once Jisung began to move his fingers that were inside of you, a string of curse words easily fell from your lips, unable to control anything that came from them. The sensory overload was at peak, and if you were sober, feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement.

With that being said, you were not, and neither was Jisung. The brooding tip that was his cock gently nudged your inner thigh. As he continued to grow, it had nowhere else to go. The simplest of touches felt like a million times more than when under the influence. But it had to be a culmination of things. Seeing Jisung dominate in something, take control. Fuck. Hearing those girls in his dorm had more of an impact on you than you originally thought.

Your mind drifted to those memories for a brief moment, the faint moans of the girls, but it suddenly occurred that you never knew what he sounded like. Jisung was a silent fuck? There was no way.

Your gaze drifted, Jisung immediately noticing and pausing his fingers with immediate concern.

“Y/n?”

Your head turned back faster than your eyes, deep in motion. It was silent, the TV pretty much non-existent as you grabbed him by the jaw, index finger and thumb strong on his mandible as your eyes fixated on his lips.

“How come you never moan when you fuck?”

Jisung panicked at first, a laugh following immediately after, the contagious sound making you laugh too. Your body was limp for a brief moment, falling off of your best friend's lap and next to him on the couch. Jisung ripped his glasses off his head, throwing them onto the table in front of him, allowing him to get a genuine look at how hot and flustered you truly were. Solely because of him.

“What are you talking about,” he giggled, fingertips immediately grabbing the flesh of your thigh, any part of you was good to him, as long as he could get his hands on it, right now.

“How would you know if I’m a silent fuck or not?”

“Because,” you smacked him lightly, letting him remove his hand from your skin “I can hear when you fuck other girls, pfft,” you huffed, lifting your legs in the air to discard your bottoms that were puddled around your ankles, “they’re always so fucking loud man.”

Jisung’s cheeks blushed in the tiniest form. It’s not that he was embarrassed. Okay, maybe part of him was a little embarrassed, completely caught off guard and forgetting that the walls in the dorm were paper thin. Part of him felt guilty that you had to hear that. He began to pout, but immediately dropped his lips when he realized that you were half naked. His fingertip immediately wrapped around each hip, forcing you to sit on his lap and face him. You lifted your hips, eyes signaling down to his pants that were overdue in needing to be removed. Jisung complied immediately, whisking his sweats and boxers off in one motion, causing his hard length to meet with your soaked core, his tip prodding gently at your folds. You bit down on your lip trying as hard as you could to focus on Jisung’s face, rather than focusing on how erect his cock was against you. Jisung tugged at your shirt, gawking when you lifted your arms to see no other material supporting your chest. Jisung was mesmerized once again. Another surface area that he wanted his hands on immediately.

“I can’t believe you heard me fuck other girls and never said anyti-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, pressing your folds firmer against Jisung’s cock. Your best friend reach for your hips immediately, in shock of your bold actions, “I don’t fucking care Jisung it’s fine just touch me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he huffed, palms snaking past your abdomen and gripping onto your tits hard, firm, rough. Ugh. Nothing had ever felt so good in your life. All this time you thought Jisung was a stupid little pathetic boy, with the occasional fuck here and there. God, it would almost make you laugh at how incorrect your perception was of him in the bedroom. Truth was, he knew what he was doing, because your arousal was doing nothing but increasing with each longing moment that his wood was not inside of you.

“Soft fucking tits,” Jisung mumbled, almost drooling as he slapped one of your nipples, the skin imeediadtely turning hard as he brought his lips to to the bud. His teeth appeared, claws like, as he took the same one in his mouth, not returning for breath as he nippled, licked, sucked; you name it, Jisung was doing that.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, head rolling back in pleasure, “how are you so good at everything you do?”

A chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips, the vibration felt across the entirety of your chest, “I’m not I-”

The two of you paused, freezing entirely when you heard Jisung’s phone ring. He glazed over, noticing the words “Mom” written across the top of the screen. He looked away as he turned back to you, that look of hunger dilating his pupils. The temporary freeze made Jisung long for you even more.

“Jisung,” you whispered, hands placed across his face and upper neck, “you should answer.”

“No,” he huffed, attaching his lips over your neck sporadically, “if it’s an emergency she’ll call me again. I’m busy.”

The phone was silent for maybe a few seconds, before it began to ring again. Jisung scoffed, removing his hands from you as he picked up his phone.

Your joint and lighter were in arms reach. You ignored the conversation, bringing the material to your lips and lighting it up again, your body relaxing even more as you took a deep breath in, feeling the substance sink into your skin, blowing out the remnants after. Your eyes turned to Jisung, his already on you, eyeing the joint in your hand. He leaned forward, waiting for you to put the joining between his lips. You complied, bringing the flame in unison. Jisung mumbled his words for a brief moment before blowing out the air.

“Yes mom,” he answered, “I’m fine. Y/n is fine, I just checked in on her.”

A small giggle came to your lips, followed by Jisung covering them. Removing his appendages, you decided to stand up, letting go of Jisung on his lap as you dropped to your knees. Like a predator, you crawled over, eye level with his knees. Jisung’s brows furrowed, taking him a bit of time to realize what you were about to do. He was still on the phone, talking to his mum about god knows what. That wasn’t your focus for now. It was spreading his legs wide, Jisung’s hardness evident as it spread across his groin. Your lips curled upward as you situations yourself where you needed to be, Jisung’s eyes widening as he realized what you were about to do.

“Yes I am s-sutdying hard,” Jisung shuttered, the sudden touch being your hand wrapped around the base of him startling him, “j-just finished one a-assignment today.”

A deep, lustrous chuckle escaped your mouth as you began to pump him, watching your best friend’s sensitivity, squirming at the touch. Jisung was doing everything in his power not to moan, prevent knowing how much effect you had on him, and form his mum knowing what he was doing.

“Mom can I c-call you back l-later, bit b-bust, busy right now.”

Jisung’s body jolts forward the moment he felt your tongue on the underside of him, making its way to his tip. He hung up the phone, tired of this torture as his hands found their way through your hands immediately. His sign of eagerness felt so good, the gentle tug from him begging you to go down on him completely driving you wild. The pain mixed in with pleasure immediately, traveling to your core and pulsating harder than it has ever felt in your life. Jisung was lengthy, but that was no problem. Beginning, slowly, you took him into your mouth, a guttural moan bleeding from his lips as his head rolled back with ease.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, almost running of out of room to breath, “you’re so fucking good at this baby”

A slight moan fell from your lips at the use of the pet name. Jisung’s head snapped back down immediately to you, catching your gaze in an instant. Your eyes looked bigger to him, doe like. It was driving Jisung wild; he could’ve finished right then and there. Being high and having the elevated physical sensation from your magical touch was something he could live with forever, maybe become addicted to. If this is what life felt like under the influence, he now wanted this all the time.

“Mmmh,” you sighed, a large pop and breath coming from your lips as you replaced your hand, “you taste so good Sungie.”

Your free hand traveled down your body, descending to the apex between your thighs to satisfy that ache that was growing with intensity with every second passed. The attempt to hide your pleasure was amateur, biting down on your bottom lip as a stifled groan left your lips.

“Y/n, baby,” Jisung purred, leaning forward and grabbing your forearms, “come here.”

You did as you were told, helping him hoist you back onto his lap. The brush of him against you this time is 10x more powerful and intense. Nothing had ever felt like this before; you never wanted this to end. Jisung scanned you again, looking up and down one more time before seizing the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. You gasped, hands immediately clamping onto him as you leaned forward, reattaching your lips to his.

Above everything, Jisung’s lips felt the best. This symbolized so many times, conscious and unconscious, did you think about how they would feel. What they would taste like. How other girls thought Jisung’s lips tasted and felt like. Jisung smiled as he pulled away, the devilishly handsome smile on his face as he leaned into your ear, “sit next to me baby.”

It seemed that the only thing you could do was be obedient to Jisung. His orders were like music to your ears. In your friendship dynamic, you tended to be the more domineering one. Making decisions for Jisung, whereas he was the more nonchalant friend. Always happy to go with the flow, as long as he was with you. This time, may things were different.

Jisung sat in the same place with his legs spread. Leaning over, he grabbed you by the thigh closest to him, fingers dancing across the skin on the inside of your thigh as his lips turned upward again. All of a sudden you felt nervous. Watching your best friend ogle you was a strange feeling. Jisung immediately noticed your energy shift.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah,” your eyes widened, looking directly at him.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah? Yeah! Sorry, let me have another puff.”

Jisung saw you grab the joint and the lighter again, bringing to your lips before he reached for your wrist, pushing the objects away, forcing your attention to be on him only.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you interjected, bringing the material and lighting the tip once more, “I fucking want you. I just zoned out for a second.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek, back of the ear and down to his neck, cascading hisdown to the middle of his chest. Jisung giggled at the feeling, the tickling sensation emitting fire throughout his body. He returned the favor, placing a kiss atop of your breast before he reached for his own joint, handing you the lighter, “Will you do me the honors?”

“Fuck yes I will,” you marvelled at his enthusiasm, lighting up the joint without a hesitation, watching him sit back and close his eyes, taking everything in. You did the same, wanting to embrace that feeling that resulted in you buying this in the first place.

It was as if the last puff recharged your best friend, his eyes reopening, that dark, lustful caste creeping back into them as he reached for you, pushing your leg out of the way, hand clasping your inner thigh. There was no sign of his movement stopping, fingers already pushing your folds across, almost as if they were in the way completely. A sharp gasp fell from your lips the moment his middle finger touched your clit, the sensation overwhelming immense as he began to move in circular motions. Jisung’s touch was gentle, in reality, he was barely applying any pressure. But in this moment, the pleasure you were deriving from his fingers was tenfold. Eyelids were fluttering, it felt like you could barely keep up with him. It wasn’t until you saw Jisung’s cock twitch out of the corner of your eye that you knew what you had to do.

It was time for your hand to snake around his body, but, in contrast to Jisung, you did not want to wait. There was no time to tease; you were simply too desperate. Fingertips found his weak spot fast, dexterity sloppy wrapped around your best friend once again as you matched the pace he found on you. It was slow, sensual, anything to build the pressure between your thighs, and between his.

“Y/n, baby,” he whined, a deep groan following, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now.”

A seductive chuckle escaped your lips, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now too Sungie.”

“Fuck I love it when you call me that with your voice all fucked up and groggy.”

“Sungie baby, I always call you that,” you paused, bringing short circuiting from the finger that Jisung slipped inside of you, “what’s so d-different about it now.”

“You always turn me on Y/n,” Jisung grogged back, “always,” he smiled, pausing again, “especially right now.”

A small heat came to your cheeks, hips gently dragging across his fingers. God, was this what heaven felt like? Your hand picked up in speed, Jisung reacted immediately with a gentle whine. The noises he made to you were like an orchestra playing its grand piece. Another side of Jisung that you had not seen, but were mesmerized by. It was a whole new world. A whole new territory of risk that the two of you had decided to explore. However, all rational and logical decisions were thrown out the window a very long time ago. Jisung wrapped his free hand around your breast, clasping onto your nipple as he entered another finger into you, index and middle finger picking up their pace, adding the squelching sound of your wetness as another sound that filled your tiny dorm room. Dorm room. You forget momentarily how thin the walls were; but who gives a fuck? It’s not like Jisung was going to hear. He was the one that was making you moan over and over anyway.

“Sungie,” you whimpered, “feels so good.”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Sungie.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing deeper into your walls, “your pussies screaming for me.”

“It’s your pussy,” you breathed, the tremors of your release beginning to rumble, “no one has ever turned me on this much Sungie.”

Your best friend had a smirk of approval, curling the tip of his two fingers inside of you. A small shriek escaped your lips, hand flailing from his cock as your jaw dropped at once. Hips bucked up and off the couch, a sinister chuckle coming from Jisung as he watched your hips squirm for him. He was possessed by the way your body reacted to him, reacted to his touch, he did not pay two minds to the throbbing sensation between his legs. All he could see was that you were slowly losing it.

You did not care. You were waiting close and closer, deeper and deeper, hitting a spot that has never been touched in your life. Your mouth was getting bigger, hips moving with less and less rhythm. There was an impending feeling that you knew was going to happen, it was only a matter of seconds.

“Sungie I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Jisung cooed, eyes fixated on your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline, “cum for me.”

A borderline scream left your lips when your hips plowed to the couch, an rupture of pleasure cascaded of the entirety of your body, legs shaking and howling in pain like they never had before. Your chest was breathing heavy, deep in unison with Jisung’s as he removed his fingers, your pussy aching from the lack of fullness. Jisung leaned over, pressing a kiss to your neck in several places before your lips. He waited until your eyelids stopped fluttering shut for you to see him bring those sinful digits to his mouth, and suck on them, hard, a deep groan leaving his lips at the taste.

“Fuck you taste good,” he winked, causing both of you to start giggling.

It did not take long for your eyes to travel to his still very hard cock. Your hands traveled immediately, both encompassing the majority of him before you began pumping, hard. To anyone with an outside view, this was not classy sex. It was sloppy, but the two of you were so high that it was perceived the former way. Jisung needed your touch, you needed to touch him. Jisung wasn’t far off either, and the fact that you were looking at him with vigor, with desire was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/n slow down, I’m gonna cum too quick.”

“No such thing,” you purred, adding your tongue into the mix, flicking your tongue along the slit of his tip.. You leaned over, Jisung resting his hands across your ass as you coaxed one moan after out of him. Jisung’s head snapped back, unable to comply with the amount of pressure he was feeling. In a similar fashion to you, his hips began to buck, tip slipping into your mouth as his sounds got louder, his pleading becoming stronger.

“Y/n fuck, s-shit I’m gonna cum, Y/n I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung’s voice became whiny, the tone music to your ears as you moved your mouth away from his length, bringing your lips to the crook of his neck and collarbone, gently nipping on the soft spot on his skin as his muscles coiled underneath your body, cock getting harder under his hands as he hit his peak. Ropes and ropes of him squirted across his stomach, a deep groan, one sounding of relief bursting from his lips as he gripped your wrist, chuckling to stop you from a sensory overload.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, regaining his compures as he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, deep kiss. The pressure on your neck was comforting, a smile turning on your lips as you pulled away.

“Wow,” Jisung gasped, “That was,”

“What took you so long?”

“Y/n, shut up,” Jisung spat, the fatigue hitting him suddenly, “woah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you smirked, the room erupted in laughter as Jisung laid back on the couch, pulling you into him as the two of you looked at the ceiling. Your substance affected mind was starting to wear off, causing your exhaustion tenfold. The two of you drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

“When I wake up, you're gonna get it,” Jisung mumbled, but you were already asleep.

Depending on how you felt when you woke up, that would change everything.

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