NERD 3

LET'S CONTINUE FROM WHERE I LEFT........

AUTHOR'S POV

The campus was alive as usual — footsteps echoing in hallways, voices overlapping in conversations, and the occasional thud of a basketball somewhere in the quad.

But today?

The real show was walking through the hallway like it was a runway.

Y/N and Park Jimin.

Side by side.

Hand in hand.

The couple no one saw coming — yet somehow made perfect sense.

Y/N: black crop top under a leather jacket, ripped jeans, hair tied back, chewing gum like sin itself.

Jimin: white shirt tucked into soft beige pants, round glasses back on, sleeves rolled up, dimples threatening everyone’s sanity.

They looked like a fever dream.

And people stared.

Of course they stared.

Especially because of what was about to happen next.

—

They reached their usual spot near the locker corridor, and Y/N leaned casually against the wall, typing something into her phone.

Jimin stood in front of her, pouting playfully.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye this morning.”

“we literally had sex ,while I was working and gave me a hundred kisses,” she deadpanned.

“Still,” he whined softly, “I missed you.”

She smirked and tugged on his collar, leaning in with a low whisper.

“Aww... my babygirl’s needy again?”

A few gasps echoed from the students nearby.

Eyes widened.

Whispers broke out.

“Did she just call him—?”

“No way—”

“Holy shit, Y/N called someone babygirl?!”

But Jimin?

He didn’t flinch.

He just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Oh really?” he replied, voice dripping with mischief. “Well then…”

He leaned forward, right in her face, and said—loudly—

“Feed me attention, Mommy.”

The hallway went silent.

Someone actually dropped their notebook.

Y/N blinked.

Slowly.

One second… two seconds… and then—

She burst out laughing.

Like full-on, head-tilted-back, hand-on-his-chest laughing.

Everyone expected a slap.

A glare.

A death stare.

Instead, she grabbed his chin and whispered, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Park Jimin.”

He grinned. “Then punish me, Mommy.”

Gasps.

Whispers turning into chaos.

“WHAT THE F—”

“She’s not even mad—”

“Dude… I called her queen once and she shoved me into a locker—”

“Why is he allowed?!”

A group of girls glared daggers at Y/N.

Another group looked like they were ready to start a Jimin fan club out of sheer jealousy.

But Y/N?

She just laced her fingers through his and started walking toward their next class.

As they passed the stunned crowd, she threw a wink over her shoulder.

“Only I get to call him babygirl. And only he can call me Mommy.”

The hall was SHOOK.

Students stared in awe as the most unlikely couple walked off — untouchable, unbothered, and disgustingly in love.

—

Later that day, in class

Y/N was writing notes, hair falling into her face, chewing the tip of her pen.

Jimin leaned closer and whispered, “You know they still haven’t recovered, right?”

She grinned without looking at him. “Good.”

“You love the chaos.”

“I love you.”

He froze. Again. She never said it casually like that.

She smirked, finally turning to him. “What? Cat got your tongue, princess?”

He blushed. “Mommy please—”

“PARK JIMIN!”

The professor snapped from across the room.

Everyone burst into laughter.

But Jimin?

He just turned back to Y/N, red-faced but smiling wide.

And whispered, “Worth it.”

---

Time Skips

The sky outside was cloudy, and the gentle patter of rain danced on the windows. Inside?

A murder scene.

Okay, not actual murder.

But Y/N felt like her uterus was actively trying to kill her.

She was curled up in a massive hoodie, blanket draped over her head, clutching a hot water bag against her lower belly, and groaning like a dying whale.

On the floor beside the couch were:

3 chocolate wrappers

A bag of chips

One sock (whose, no one knows)

And a very alarmed Park Jimin.

He peeked around the corner from the kitchen, holding a steaming mug of tea with both hands like it was an offering to a moody goddess.

“…You okay?”

Y/N’s face was buried into a cushion.

“No.”

“I brought chamomile tea.”

“Tea can’t fix my womb war, Jimin.”

He walked over carefully, set the mug on the table, and kneeled beside her. “Can I at least hold you while you cry like a puppy?”

She peeked at him with glassy eyes. “You’re not allowed to look this cute while I suffer.”

He smiled softly, brushing her hair away from her forehead. “You’re still prettier than me even when you’re dying.”

“I will throw this hot water bag at your face.”

He giggled and ducked, then climbed onto the couch behind her like a koala, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

She shifted and whined, burying herself into him. “It hurts.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “Want me to massage your back?”

She nodded silently.

So he did. Gentle circles. No rush. No questions.

Just warmth.

—

A few minutes later:

“Jimin…”

“Yeah?”

“I want spicy noodles.”

“It’s raining outside.”

“I want spicy noodles or I’ll cry.”

“Okay okay okay okay I’m putting on my shoes!”

“Also ice cream.”

“Y/N.”

She pouted. “Please, babygirl.”

He froze.

“…You just—”

“Yup.”

“You called me—”

“Yup. Use your babygirl powers and go get snacks.”

He groaned dramatically, grabbing his hoodie. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

—

One Hour Later:

Y/N was curled into Jimin’s lap this time, face buried in his chest as they watched anime and ate instant noodles straight from the pot with two forks.

She was calm now.

Sleepy.

Fed.

Comforted.

And then the tables turned.

Because Jimin suddenly looked down at her and whispered—

“Baby?”

She blinked up. “Hm?”

“…My tummy hurts too.”

She stared. “You literally just finished two packs of noodles.”

“But it hurts,” he whined. “Rub it.”

She squinted. “Are you mocking me?”

“No,” he pouted. “I’m suffering. Rub it.”

“You’re such a fake.”

“I’m a delicate flower.”

She rolled her eyes but eventually rolled him onto the couch and laid on top of him, pressing a gentle hand to his stomach.

He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her.

“Thanks, mommy.”

“Call me that again and I swear—”

“You’ll kiss me?”

She sighed. “I hate how well you know me.”

He grinned. “That’s because we’re half and half, remember?”

“Half baby, half grown?”

He nodded.

“When I’m a disaster, you fix me. When you’re a mess, I patch you up.”

She kissed his cheek. “We’re a great team.”

He blushed. “You’re the best team I’ve ever been on.”

—

And that night, with warm blankets, tangled limbs, and a sleepy playlist playing low…

Y/N fell asleep to the sound of Jimin’s heartbeat.

And Jimin?

He whispered one last thing before sleep took him:

“I’d do this for a lifetime.”

---

TIME SKIPS

(NEXT DAY)

Y/N’s mom had been staring at her daughter’s contact photo for ten minutes.

“I shouldn’t go unannounced…” she mumbled to herself. “But it’s been a whole week. She hasn’t even threatened to storm back home for fun...”

Her heart tugged with longing.

So she got into an car.

Holding a tiffin box in her hand. With paneer rolls. Y/N’s favorite.

—

Meanwhile — Jimin’s Apartment

“STOPPP—JIMIN I SWEAR TO GOD—!”

“YOU STARTED IT!!”

Y/N was running around the living room, holding Jimin’s notebook above her head like a victory flag, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“You called me gremlin in your notes!”

“You bit me last night in your sleep!”

“I WAS COLD!”

“YOU SLEPT SIDEWAYS!”

Jimin lunged, grabbing her by the waist, both of them tumbling onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and giggles.

They were breathless.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, flushed and grinning. “You’re such a menace.”

She smirked, climbing into his lap. “And you love it, babygirl.”

He groaned. “I regret telling you that name doesn’t bother me.”

Suddenly—

Ding dong.

They both froze.

Y/N tilted her head. “You expecting someone?”

“Nope.”

Still tangled together, she stood up slowly and walked to the door, rubbing her eyes and adjusting Jimin’s oversized hoodie that was currently drowning her.

She opened the door.

And froze.

“…Mom?”

Her mom stood there.

Holding the tiffin box.

Blinking.

Taking in the scene.

Y/N’s flushed face. Her bare legs. Her oversized hoodie that clearly wasn’t hers.

And the boy in the background — standing up awkwardly, hair messy, cheeks red, trying to fix his shirt.

There was silence.

Y/N panicked. “I swear we were just wrestling over a notebook—”

But her mom just...

Smiled.

Warm.

Bright.

A little teary.

“I missed you,” she said softly. “So I brought you food.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re not… mad?”

Her mom chuckled, stepping in.

“I thought I’d find two lovebirds acting like grownups. Instead, I find my daughter screaming, running barefoot, while her boyfriend screams back about being bitten in his sleep.” She looked between them. “That’s better than any dream I had.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh.

Her mom walked in, handed her the box, and looked at Jimin with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him.

Jimin blinked. “F-For what?”

“For making her feel safe enough to be a kid again.”

He looked stunned.

Then smiled. Shy. Proud.

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly emotional.

Her mom sat on the couch, looked at the place like it was home, and said, “Now. Feed me. I want to see how my daughter’s chaos king treats guests.”

—

An hour later

They were all sitting on the floor, laughing over cold coffee, leftover noodles, and terrible jokes.

Y/N leaned on Jimin’s shoulder, half asleep.

Her mom watched quietly — heart full.

Her fierce, sharp-edged daughter was smiling in a way she hadn’t smiled in years.

Soft.

Unarmored.

Loved.

And as she looked at Jimin, her heart whispered—

"He’s the one."

---

The room was dimly lit, the last rays of sunset stretching across the floor.

Y/N had passed out on the couch mid-conversation — head tilted, hand loosely curled near her chest, her breathing soft and slow.

She looked like a child again.

Hair messy, legs tucked up, wearing one of Jimin’s hoodies that hung off her shoulder.

Jimin sat beside her, watching quietly, his fingers brushing her cheek once to move a strand of hair away.

“She sleeps so deeply when she feels safe,” her mom whispered from the kitchen doorway.

Jimin turned.

She smiled gently. “I hadn’t seen that expression on her face since she was a teenager.”

He looked back at Y/N again, eyes full of love. “She works hard all the time… acts strong even when she’s falling apart.”

Then he leaned forward, gently hooking an arm under her knees, the other around her back.

And effortlessly… lifted her into his arms.

She didn’t even stir.

He carried her to their bedroom slowly, carefully, as if carrying something breakable — something sacred.

When he came back to the living room, Y/N’s mom was waiting by the window, arms crossed gently over her chest.

“Jimin.”

He looked up. “Yes?”

She gave a soft, almost shy smile — the kind that meant her heart was full but worried at the same time.

“I know you love her.”

“I do,” he said, without hesitation.

“I see it in how you look at her,” she continued. “Like she’s the only thing that matters. And I see how she laughs around you. How she lets go. That’s not something she does easily.”

Jimin’s throat tightened, but he stayed quiet, listening.

She stepped closer.

“But you know how moms are,” she said softly. “Even when everything looks perfect, we still worry. Still pray. Still fear what the world might do to the ones we love most.”

She looked him straight in the eye.

“So I’m trusting you with my daughter. The real her. The one who talks too fast when she’s excited. Who hides her pain behind sarcasm. Who fights like hell, but loves even harder.”

Jimin’s eyes glistened. “I’ll take care of her. Always.”

“I believe you,” her mom whispered. “Just… never stop choosing her. Even on the hard days.”

He smiled, and this time it trembled. “Even if she throws hot noodles at me for fun?”

She laughed quietly, wiping at her eyes. “Especially then.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the rain outside softening to a drizzle.

And then she said, almost in a whisper—

“She chose you, Jimin. That means everything.”

He bowed his head, voice barely audible. “She’s everything to me too.”

—

Later That Night

Jimin slipped back into the room, climbed into bed beside her gently.

Y/N stirred just a little, shifting toward him instinctively.

Still half-asleep, she whispered, “You talked to my mom?”

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

He smiled, kissing her forehead.

“She told me what I already knew…”

Y/N blinked up, sleepy and curious. “Which is?”

He tucked her into his chest.

“That you’re worth everything.”

---

2 Weeks Later

It had become a quiet routine —

No loud declarations.

No dramatic scenes.

Just soft mornings, shared laughter, and the kind of love that whispered “I’m staying.”

Today was no different.

The sun was stretching across the kitchen tiles. The apartment was warm — filled with the scent of garlic, butter, and sizzling spices.

Park Jimin stood in front of the stove, wearing grey sweats, a loose white tee, and a pink apron that said “Kiss the Chef” — a gift from Y/N.

(She refused to kiss him when he wore it, which only made him wear it more.)

He was humming under his breath, chopping coriander with one hand, stirring the simmering curry with the other.

The dish?

Spicy paneer curry with garlic naan.

Y/N’s favorite.

And where was she?

Lying belly-down on the floor like a five-year-old.

Wearing socks with ducks on them.

Head resting on a cushion.

Watching Shinchan.

Yes.

Y/N.

The same bad girl who once made a senior cry by looking at him the wrong way.

The same Y/N who walked around campus in black boots and blood-red lipstick.

Was currently giggling because Shinchan did a stupid butt dance on screen.

Jimin peeked around the corner from the kitchen.

She didn’t notice.

She was too invested in the cartoon — eyes wide, lips curled in an innocent smile that no one outside this apartment would believe she had.

He leaned on the doorframe, watching her.

Softly. Silently.

In love.

—

Ten minutes later, he walked over with a tray and set it in front of her.

“Lunch is served, cartoon queen.”

She perked up. “Is that—?”

He nodded. “Yes. Your favorite. Extra garlic. Just how you like it.”

She squealed. “You’re the best boyfriend-slash-roommate-slash-chef ever.”

He smirked. “You only love me for the food.”

She leaned over, pecked his cheek. “Also the hoodie cuddles. And your big eyes. And the way you get all pouty when I ignore you.”

He pretended to roll his eyes, sitting cross-legged beside her.

They ate on the floor, side by side, cartoon voices echoing through the room, forks clinking gently as they shared food off each other’s plates.

At one point, Y/N accidentally dropped a piece of naan on his lap.

She giggled.

Jimin glared at her playfully. “Clean it.”

“No.”

“Clean it or no cuddles tonight.”

She gasped. “You monster.”

He held her gaze.

She reached forward slowly…

And just as he expected a napkin—

She licked the spot off his pants.

Jimin choked on air. “Y/N WHAT—”

She burst out laughing. “YOU SAID CLEAN IT.”

“I meant with a napkin, not your— YOU’RE INSANE—”

“You love it.”

“I hate how much I love it.”

They collapsed into each other, laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

—

Later That Evening

Y/N was in his hoodie again.

Cartoons still playing.

She laid her head in Jimin’s lap, half-asleep, his fingers stroking her hair as the soft glow of the TV painted their faces in blue and yellow.

“Jimin,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hmm?”

“If anyone ever finds out I watch Shinchan and cry during Doraemon…”

He smiled. “I’ll protect your secret with my life.”

“You better.”

“You know…” he whispered, “this is my favorite version of you.”

She cracked one eye open. “The cartoon version?”

“The real version,” he said. “The one who lets herself be soft.”

She smiled sleepily.

And with a final sigh, she whispered, “That’s ‘cause you made me feel safe enough to be her.”

---

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THE END