#get admission info

[katierosefun]

how bizarre is it that, in a haze, i sign up for info sessions to an mfa program

[rex101111]

I think Todd's video is actually the more impactful of the two for me. Like with Hbomber, that's like, his thing. He does extensive research about a specific topic and goes into great detail about it. He's in the same general "circle" as Somerton so he makes sense as someone who would like stand up and be like "hey something is WRONG here" and then just spend a very long while detailing exactly what is wrong.

Todd? Todd reviews music, albums and songs. That's his thing. Most of his videos are, at most, maybe half an hour long. His skill set and area of expertise are completely unrelated to Somerton's bullshit and yet even he can just stand up and go "something smells like bullshit" and just tear into Somerton's lies and nonsense for nearly two hours.

And most of Todd's research in that video is, by his own admission, fairly minimal. He googled, he looked up public documents, searched on forums, but nothing the average person doesn't have the time to do if something is bothering them and they want info on it. It's just testament that just about anybody can just...fact check. Look things up. It shows that there's no reason to just take things people say to you at face value if you think something is off. You can suss out bullshit by yourself.

And I just think that's a good thing to keep in mind.

Also of course when Somerton does start lying about something that Todd does have plenty of knowledge in, music, he actually gets mad and really lets the bastard have it. That's good too.

[skyeducationn]

Admission In B.ed 2023 | Skyeducation.co.in

Skyeducation.co.in gives you access to get admission to the B.ed 2023 program. Our world-class education system, experienced faculty and modern technology provides the best environment for students to learn and grow. For further info, visit our site.

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[inuette]

Official (Anti) RQ Archive

[PT: Official (Anti) Radqueer Archive. END PT. ]

　Last Updated (DD/MM/YY): 08/01/24. This archive will be updated over time, so make sure to check back regularly if you can! If you have anxiety regarding opening links, no worries! All these posts are archived under our "archived" & resources tags.

Anti-RQ Terms/Flags

'PRAT' meaning

'Fluffy Para'

'Arissomei'/'Arissodic'

'Atypical Dysphoria Awareness' (Creator Boundary)

Reclaimed Transage, Transracial (Adoptee), Transspecies and Transabled Flags

Reclaimed Transabled Flag 2 + Symbol

BIID Flag + Symbol

Parahealth

RQ Terms/Flags

'Faux Cult'/'Fult' and Flags

Xenoanarchism

Other Terms

Doc

PSAs

Radparas

'Kandiqueer'

'Xenosatanism' and Xenosatanist Flags

'@//sophieinwonderland'

The Angel's Web "Fult"

'Not All Radqueers'

Initial 'Fult' PSA

"The Ezra Files" (Content/Trigger Warning: (Pro-C) Pedophilia, Incest, Bestiality, Zoosadism, Toddler/Baby Abuse, Grooming, CSEM Trading, Rape, Abduction, Admissions Of CSA, Admissions Of Incest, Admissions Of Bestiality…)

TransN*zi Symbols

Other Resources

What IS A Radqueer? Why Are They Bad?

RQ Original Coining Info

RQs are a Cult

RQs and Stochastic Terrorism

The Insult of 'Cisdisabled'

BIID and RQ Grooming

RQ '2024 Calendar'

Talk of Atypical Dysphoria

WHY Misuse of Transrace and the term 'Trace' are Bad

Talk of "Transautism"/being "Transautistic"

You Cannot 'Coin' A Medical Disorder/Talk of "MUDs"

Intrusive Thoughts About =/= Actually Believing in Them

'I have intrusive thoughts about ...' isn't a 'Valid' Excuse

Transitioning When It Comes To TransIDs and TransX Identities

Transethnic People Aren't Valid (Focuses on East Asians & Koreans)

There Are Better Ways to Cope with Atypical Dysphoria

Why Arissomei/Arissodic is its Own Term

Racial Hierarchy and Being "Trace"/"Transracial"

Blackface is Blackface — Your "Intent" Doesn't Matter

Alternative (Non-TERF Rhetoric) Anti-Radqueer Arguments

Suibaiting Radqueers ISN'T Okay

If You're Thinking of Leaving the RQ Community

'Cracker' is Not a Slur

Suibaiting RQs isn't Welcome Here

Radinclus does NOT Mean Radqueer

Misusage of Languages in RQ Spaces

How-To's

Reporting a RQ for Inciting Violence

(Fighting Against) RQs Rebranding Terms as 'RQ Terms'

Coping with Atypical Dysphoria

Getting Out and Staying Out Of the Community

General Tips

Reaffirmation

Reaffirmation of Why RQs are Bad (TWs included in the post)

BIID (Body Integrity Identity Disorder) =/= Radqueer (Affirmation)

[samuelsdean]

Who's Your Barber?

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

genre: fluff

word count: 0.8k

author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this!

“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”

You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.

Cute, you thought.

“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”

A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.

You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.

“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”

Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.

“How?”

You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.

“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.

“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”

You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.

“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”

“What, did you join a boy band?”

Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.

You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.

But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.

However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.

“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice. 

You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer

“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.

“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”

Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now. 

It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.

“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”

At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.

“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

Spencer likes you back? 

As in more than friends? 

Non-platonic?

Spencer likes you back!

“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.

“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.” 

Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.

“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”

[rachi-roo]

!!!ATTENTION TICKLE ARTISTS!!!

I want to get the sfw tickle community back to life!!! So, me and @rand0m-s1nner have come up with a game for us to play! An event I'm calling-

"Pass-the-Lee!"

This is just going to be a fun, silly, fluffy little game to get people talking and interacting more! More info + poll below! 💕 If you are interested, make sure to give me a follow so you don't miss any updates or the admission poll!!!

UPDATE: The lee selection process is now under way! Pop on over here to vote for one of the suggested characters that we will all be getting!!!

How it works:

A list of everyone participating will be posted, this will be the order of who gets the lee next!

Whoever is at the top of the list will start, drawing the first installment of our lee getting got!

When they're finished, they post their image and send a second to the next person.

This second image can show you dropping the lee to the next ler in the list, the aftermath if you will. I'll show examples below ^^

The next person on the list, who is sent the aftermath image, then answers with their instalment of the tickling! This continues until we reach the bottom of the list, and our poor little lee is all tuckered out. 😌🤌

Think of it like a boop booth, but we pass around the lee instead of one person doing the whole thing!

Rules for the content of the drawing!

SFW ONLY! No nudity, no extreme bondage (Basic wrist pinning, tying only)

For the first game, there will be no extreme tickling! Keep it light, keep it fluffy!!!

You do not have to tickle the lee at all! If you want to give them a break, you can. If you want them to jave a snack, go ahead.

Make sure you incorporate the aftermath you are sent into your instalment! I.e if you are sent an ask and the lee is for example, holding a pillow, try and draw them with that item around. If the ask shows the lee with a specific item of clothing missing, make sure to draw them as is. You can always cloth them again when it's your turn to send the ask!

I think that covers how things will work. There won't be a super strict time limit, I want this to be chill and fun! However! If you do choose to join in, please be considerate of the next person in the list! Don't leave em hanging!!! 💕 Anyone can join! All levels of art progress welcome!!

Please reblog, even if you don't want to join in, others might! 😊💕 Take care friendos!!!!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Didn't You Already Ask Me That?

Requested Here by @bradleybeachbabe!! I hope you like it!🫶🏼

Pairing: Jim Street x shy!fem!reader

Summary: Your fiancé comes home and asks you a question he already asked. You then learn that Street wants to change the timeline of your relationship.

Warnings: so much fluff, 20 David Squad banter

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

A/N: Does this pic (from Pinterest) fit the story? Not exactly. But it's adorable so it's staying.

The engagement ring on your left ring finger catches your attention often. Every time you see it, you smile, but there’s also a feeling deep in your gut that it’s not enough. Your fiancé is great, you love him, he balances you and your shyness, but you want more. You want to call Jim Street your husband, the man you’ll be with for eternity, but the days seem to stretch into weeks as you eagerly anticipate your wedding.

As you think of Street, your phone buzzes with an incoming message from him. The picture behind the message, of you, Street, and his SWAT team at your engagement party makes you smile. Street’s message is short, just to inform you that he’s coming home early, and 20 David Squad wants to see you again. Though you still get shy around Street’s friends who are becoming like your family, you enjoy getting to know them because they’re important to your fiancé, which makes them important to you. After you accepted his proposal, you learned that Dom Luca and Deacon Kay helped Street plan everything; if you weren’t convinced of what great men and friends they were before, you were then. Street tells you often that his team loves you – maybe more than they love him – but you find that hard to believe, especially when it’s hard to open up to them right now because they’re lively, loud, and connected in a way that brings your shyness out in full force. Regardless, you love them, too.

Street sits on his bike for a few minutes before he finally walks to your door. He’s lost in thought as he uses the key you gave him and enters your home as if it’s his own.

“Hi,” you call when he steps in.

Street looks up and sees you on the couch, and his mind clears. “I want to get married.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and release it slowly before you ask, “Didn’t you already ask me that?”

“Yes. But I want to get married right now. We can get ready and go to the courthouse. Let’s make this official, honey.”

Your hand raises from your lap, but you stop yourself from reaching for him. With your hand against your chest, you wonder what made Street decide that your marriage needs to happen today. There’s no argument in your mind, you’ve been thinking that you’d like to get married now, too.

Street sets his bag down and joins you on the couch. As he sits, he takes your hands in his and taps your palms softly.

“There was a close call today,” he admits quietly. “A bullet was inches from hitting me, and it would have killed me. But that moment and the realization after… I can’t imagine waking up another morning and going to work another day, without having you completely and totally by my side. I want to come home to you, to be wholly yours.”

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Street smiles as he murmurs, “Of course, you’re worried about me instead of what I’m asking. Look, I know this sounds like a surprise or whatever, but I’ve wanted to move forward for a while now. But you get to decide, pretty girl.”

You duck your chin at his pet name, then lick your lips. “I’ve wanted to get married since before you asked.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t look at him, but you know that Street is smiling, his dimples and bright eyes happy at your admission.

“I think that it’s right for us,” you answer. “I want to be married to the love of my life.”

“And that’s me?”

Street apologizes with a kiss on your forehead after you shake your head. He releases one of your hands to kindly guide your face up to see him. “Will you marry me?” he asks. “Today?”

Just as you did the first time, you get tongue-tied at Street’s proposal. Your nod is immediate, but the words are slower to come. Rather than giving a real answer, this time, you say, “I don’t have a dress yet.”

“I’ve got wardrobe handled,” Street assures before he leans forward to kiss you.

“Yes!” Street cheers as he leads you to his Charger. “One of my friends from Long Beach is a court bailiff up here and he agreed to be our witness.”

“You didn’t ask your team?” you inquire.

Street looks up from his phone, and his eyes catch on your outfit. It’s one of your go-to date night outfits, and when Street pulled it out, he told you that it’s his favorite one. He even added that you were wearing it when he realized he loved you more and differently than anything else.

“This is about us,” Street explains. “We’ll celebrate with them after, but we don’t need them to turn it into a whole thing right now.”

You nod in understanding and accept Street’s hand as you enter the car. Within a few minutes of leaving your home, you are standing before a justice of the peace with an on-duty police officer witnessing your marriage to Jim Street. It may not seem like much, but it’s perfect to you and you can’t remember being this happy ever before.

“Street, how did you pull this off?” your single witness asks. “Marriage licenses don’t usually get expedited like this and this courthouse has marriage appointments through the next decade.”

“I know a guy,” Street answers.

“Hondo?” you guess under your breath.

Street narrows his eyes at you and then mumbles, “Maybe.”

The justice of the peace enters the small courtroom-turned-wedding venue and introduces himself. After learning your names, he invites you to stand before him and begins, “We’re here today to witness the union of this couple in marriage. The groom has asked me to keep it brief, so we’ll get to the point. I only remind you that trust, love, and the unfailing support of each other will take you through the happy days ahead and the challenges alike. Do you, James Street, take this woman to be your spouse and to live together as partners, to treat her with love and respect, and to build a marriage that grows stronger and more loving as time passes?”

Street smiles at you, and his thumb bumps against your ring as he takes your hands. “I do,” he answers.

The justice of the peace looks to you, and you answer, “I do, too.”

“Efficient,” he muses. “I like it.”

“That’s Jim Street,” the bailiff beside you adds.

“If you have rings, please take them out now.”

You purse your lips, but your concern about the rings dissipates as Street removes a velvet jewelry bag from his pocket. He hands you a ring and nods for the officiant to continue.

“You may repeat these lines together,” he invites. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion, as we join our loves together, today, tomorrow, and for as long as our love shall last.”

With Street, you repeat each line together. You slide the ring onto Street’s finger and smile happily as you look up at him. After you release his hand, Street removes your engagement ring, places your wedding ring in its eternal position, and puts your engagement ring above it.

“By the virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you married,” the justice of the peace concludes. “You may kiss the bride.”

Street’s hands raise to your cheeks, and he smiles as he moves toward you. You kiss Street, and everything feels right. The ring on your hand, the love between you, and the fact that you are his and he is yours forever is exactly what was missing.

“When did you get the rings?” you whisper when Street ends the kiss.

“About a week after you said yes,” he answers.

“Aw,” his friend teases. “Congratulations, both of you, but my break is over. Have fun on the honeymoon!”

You turn your face toward your shoulder after that comment, but Street wraps his arm around you to take you home as his wife for the first time.

“When are you going to tell your friends?” you ask as you step outside.

He scoffs then asks, “Do you really think I’ll have to tell them?”

In the locker room the next morning, Street has a smile on his face and a black band on his finger that catches his attention each time he moves his hand. He now understands why you were so interested in your engagement ring – though you used it as a way to avoid eye contact when he made you shy away from him.

“Whoa,” Chris says.

“You got some new jewelry!” Deacon adds.

Street remembers how beautiful you, his wife, looked at the courthouse yesterday, and turns to his team. Deacon shakes his head at Street’s smile, but he remembers the newlywed joy fondly. Street raises his left hand, and the other members of 20 David Squad gasp at the reveal.

“Did you marry my best friend?” Luca asks.

“No, I married my best friend,” Street answers.

“You got that shy little thing to a courthouse wedding where every eye is on her?” Hondo asks.

“There were only four people in the room, but she was just as excited as me to get married.”

“You’re getting soft,” Tan laments.

“No, I got a wife and she’s amazing.”

Hondo and Tan groan while Deacon slaps Street’s shoulder before congratulating him.

“I can’t imagine the two of you in the courthouse, exchanging vows and everything,” Deacon muses.

“We didn’t,” Street says. “Not our own, at least.”

“You could’ve gone to Vegas if you were in the mood for a drive-thru wedding,” Hondo teases. “But you needed to get another ring on it in less than four hours, huh?”

“If you’re jealous, just say that, Hondo,” Street responds.

“Man, I’m not the one who set a new record for the fastest wedding ceremony. I know she’s great but you…”

“Hondo, you good?” Deacon asks in the sudden silence.

“You’re not a playboy anymore,” Hondo realizes.

“I haven’t been for a while,” Street says.

“No, I can’t call you that now. You need a new nickname.”

“Plenty of nicknames for wives,” Tan comments.

“Careful,” Street warns.

“What do you call a guy who’s so whipped he takes the shyest girl in the city to a wedding contained within a five-foot radius?”

Tan and Hondo continue discussing nickname options while Luca asks how everything went.

“It was perfect,” Street answers. “I can’t think of anything better than being married to her.”

“If you decide you want to do a reception or something, let me know,” Deacon offers. “Annie and I would be happy to help out.”

“I think you should get her down here right now and we can order a pizza or something. A new member of the family deserves a celebration,” Luca suggests. “And then Annie can throw a party.”

“Great,” Deacon grumbles playfully.

“You seriously want me to call her?” Street inquires. “Think she can handle the attention?”

“If she can handle being Mrs. Jim Street, she can handle anything, newlywed!” Hondo interjects.

“Newlywed doesn’t make sense,” Luca complains. “He’ll outgrow that.”

“Trust the process, Luca.”

“If she comes here now, she’ll regret it,” Street tells Deacon.

“She loves you, it’s obvious,” Deacon assures. Luca yells that another of Hondo’s options is worse, and Deacon adds, “Maybe wait a few minutes before inviting her, though. It’s gonna be a long day for you.”

“But I’ve got a wife to go home to,” Street remembers. “That’s all that matters.”

Street looks away from Deacon when his phone chimes. A message from you makes his smile reappear, and when you call him husband in the second message that appears, Street wonders why he didn’t ask you to elope sooner.

[ms-demeanor]

Hi there! Firstly, wanna say a huge thank you: your blog has inspired me to become more educated about cybersecurity and nutrition, and it’s the reason my brother and I now use Firefox! I came across this article and… it seemed to raise a lot of valid points about Mozilla, but I have no idea if they are true or not since I’m not that knowledgeable about tech, and they go against everything I’ve ever heard about Firefox. Wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind giving it a quick read, if that’s not too much trouble, and explaining why it’s false/true? If you can, ofc, I realise that is a weird request, and I promise it&: not something I’d usually ask someone. I just thought I’d ask since you’re the only sort of ‘tech’ person I can think of whom I’d trust to know stuff about this. https://digdeeper.neocities.org/articles/mozilla

So this is a great example of someone reading a ToS uncharitably and extracting the most paranoid bullshit possible.

Aside from the absolute classic "oh noes they are storing info about what devices you use" (if you use firefox logged in mozilla will collect information about what device and OS you use to connect; they do this for a lot of reasons like figuring out what stuff the bulk of their users are using but also because *they can't display on your device without that data*) I want to zoom in on this as an example:

BTW, there is one really funny thing inside the account ToS (MozArchive) that I just have to mention: "We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including [...] our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable." The fuck? If you stop bringing them profit, you're gone. They really said that! To me, this is a roundabout admission that your data is being sold. And if it's not worth much (for whatever reason), then you get kicked out.

This person is highlighting the idea that they may cut you off from services if the provision of those services is no longer commercially viable. This author is saying "FIREFOX WILL BOOT YOU WHEN YOU STOP BEING A PROFITABLE LITTLE PAYPIG FOR THEM"

But. Okay. Let's go look at that section of the ToS:

These Terms will continue to apply until ended by either you or Mozilla. You can choose to end them at any time for any reason by deleting your Mozilla account, discontinuing your use of the Services, and if applicable, unsubscribing from our emails. We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including, but not limited to, if we reasonably believe: (i) you have violated these Terms, (ii) you create risk or possible legal exposure for us; or (iii) our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable. We will make reasonable efforts to notify you by the email address associated with your Mozilla account or the next time you attempt to access the Services. In all such cases, these Terms shall terminate, including, without limitation, your license to use the Services, except that the following sections shall continue to apply: Indemnification, Disclaimer; Limitation of Liability, Miscellaneous.

Bud. This says "we are not obligated to provide services to you and we may stop providing services that cost us more money to maintain than is viable." This isn't about selling your data, this is about backwards compatibility and sunsetting projects. They don't have to keep providing access to services they're no longer developing nor bend over backwards to make sure that you can keep running a version of the browser that uses the extensions they dropped support for ten years ago.

Ugh. I got to the section where they talk about cucking for manifest3 and jesus this asshole. Manifest 3 is a defacto set of web standards that are changing because google has so much market share as a browser that if they do something everybody else has to follow or they're going to break basic functionality; if they don't make these changes eventually a shitload of websites just will not work on firefox. WAY more than currently experience this problem. Nobody is happy about manifest 3 and the fact that mozilla put out a press release about coming manifest 3 changes (that was not positive!) doesn't mean they're happy about getting dragged along by the nose; this blogger would prefer something like them refusing to adopt those standards, but all that would happen is that they'd lose more users because less shit would work on firefox browsers since people write their sites for chrome first and anything else second if at all.

This writer also gripes a lot about things like "mozilla took away this functionality for the sake of security and SURE you can change that by going into the configurations but it should be an option right in the first panel of the settings what are they really trying to hide???" and they're not trying to hide anything bud they're trying to make a functional browser with intuitive menus for people who aren't power users.

Like they want to be able to do everything they want and they want to be able to see the option in front of them at all times. It's a weird combination of "I know how to configure everything about this browser" and "if a setting is ever hidden behind a readmore it's a dark pattern and is an attack on user privacy." Like they gripe a lot about privacy and then link to a bunch of pages on mozilla where they explain their privacy settings and link to tutorials on how to hide the data that they just explained they collect.

Yeah this is someone I would walk away from in order to avoid getting into a fistfight.

"FOSS licenses are nice but they don't ensure quality" nobody said they did.

"FOSS licensed softwares don't always accept user participation in development" nobody said they did

"I can't change the actual code of firefox to remove things that I don't like don't tell me to fork it it has to be all or nothing mozilla specifically has to do what I want or it's user hostile" I can see why it would be hostile to you as a user fuck you dude this is why forks *exist* (also the "spyware" discussed is basic browser tracking stuff, the realistic necessities of how email work that make it not private by default like the PROTOCOLS are not private you can't get around that, and a lot of the stuff is opt out but improves functionality for day to day users, AND a lot of the tracking is specifically for people with logged-in accounts which are not necessary to use firefox like if you hate pocket don't use it my friend! I also hate pocket it is quite simple to never use it thanks)

"There's no justification for making the source code unavailable" my dude. https://hg.mozilla.org/mozilla-central/

"If they really cared about an open internet they'd work toward killing capitalism." Friend. I think there's very little more that a web browser could do to undermine the capitalist nature of huge chunks of the web and maintain a broad userbase than what firefox is doing.

I'm reminded of the time that I saw someone losing their shit about a linux distro that included chrome as *a* browser - not the default browser, but *a* browser.

It is an unpleasant fact that a lot of firefox's funding comes from google. That's part of why google is still the default search engine in Firefox and I read some similar articles decrying mozilla's residence firmly in Google's pocket a few years ago. I don't think there's anyone at mozilla who is genuinely pleased that their cheques are signed by google, but there are a ton of people at mozilla who are happy they can keep the lights on because getting paid by google means that they can do as much as they possibly can to create a functional browser that has a significant interest in privacy by default and that can be made *VERY* private by a dedicated user.

Anyway a lot of the stuff on this post is things like "a certificate expired five years ago and broke extensions and that means that mozilla is incompetent and hates users" or "eleven years ago there was a slapfight in the bug reporting forums between a user and a mod and the fact that the user was kicked after repeatedly being told his fix wasn't going to get made is censorship."

The big beefs at the center of this post are:

Mozilla collects data on users

Mozilla limits functionality that should be up to the users

Mozilla takes money from google

and my refutations are:

it does, and it is less than any other mainstream browser and is much much more transparent about what data is collected and how to prevent that data from being collected

A lot of the functionality they're discussing is still there and the stuff that isn't is allowing unsigned extensions which, dude, put a fork in it. They're not going to budge on unsigned extensions but the bar you have to clear to get signed is really really low; like this guy is LITERALLY saying "allow the installation of malicious extensions."

Yep. They do. This point reminds me of a lot of the people on tumblr who hate ads but also hate it when people pay for tumblr. As it turns out making things costs money, and making things used by millions of people costs *A LOT* of money.

I mean FFS one of the things this writer complains about is that Mozilla has a YouTube page.

This isn't just letting perfect be the enemy of good, it's letting perfect be the enemy of *functionally existing as a large organization in the modern world.*

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my blog, thank you for letting me know!

[prismatoxic]

By his own admission, Chillchuck hasn't seen his kid in several years, is that not what a deadbeat is? He also admitted to being a Nad husband.

oh boy i finally get to explain this! also did you stop after volume 7 or something? you wouldn't send an ask like this without knowing all the canon info, right? chilchuck has three kids, not one. he only says it's one at the end of volume 7, which sounds like the conversation you're referencing.

anyway--chilchuck's daughters are all adults by half-foot standards. they do not rely on him for finances or care. based on the way he tells the story about his wife leaving, this may have been the case even before they were fully grown, but he doesn't specify. either way not being immediately in their lives is not neglecting them, and "deadbeat dad" specifically refers to not providing financial aid to estranged offspring who need it.

(chapter 56)

but let's also explore the way the fandom tends to assume he no longer cares about them or has any contact with them, shall we?

he is still in contact with them. they write him letters and one of them sent along the neckwarmer he wears (i feel like it was flertom, but i might be remembering fanon). there are also two canon instances of him being back in their lives after the end of the story (including bringing them to met his friends)

(chapter 56 again)

(ryoko kui illustration celebrating the finale of the manga)

and finally, this man talks about his kids very fondly even during canon. he is still invested in them and knows them as people, even though they're adults.

(one of chilchuck's 2 bonus comics in the adventurer's guide; the second instance of him being present in their lives post-canon is from the complete edition but i don't have it on hand)

so no, he's not a deadbeat. and based on the way you phrased your ask...

edit: BAD? DID YOU MEAN BAD HUSBAND?

THE THING HE WAS LYING ABOUT?

[fanfoolishness]

Just thinking about Crosshair and his admission that “Tantiss isn’t a place I ever wanted to go back to.” He didn’t tell them about the Rampart lead because he knew they’d follow it up and find a way to get there, and that terrified him.

You’d think if Tantiss scared him that badly, badly enough he could hardly keep his hand from shaking and jerking, he could have simply given them the info and then volunteered to stay behind. But I think that once he was back with his brothers again, staying behind and leaving them to face Tantiss alone never occurred to him.

Because if his brothers were going into certain death, he was going with them, no matter what. He’d already lost them twice before: there was no option in his mind where he wouldn’t be with them at the end. And that’s why he didn’t say anything until Tantiss was inevitable.

[hummingjay]

Random Replika headcanons because replikas are cute

Aras spend a lot of time crawling in vents, so their upper body strength is next level. They're also really good climbers. Also, when they do climb, they use overly smooth movements, like walking without bobbing up and down, mostly so they don't jarringly drop a tool on a belt, but this freaks others out. Some Aras find the smell of exhaust comforting, but not in the vents. It's like hearing bugs and animals in the forest: Comforting and safe-feeling in the forest, but a deer cry in the city is disconcerting. They also have excellent night vision, even though they carry flashlights. Kolibris are almost entirely immune to caffeine. Lots of sweet tea, so they're hyper which helps a heck-ton with keeping up with Storches and other taller fellas. Aras either love or hate hanging with them depending on the Ara or Kolibri, since on one hand Kolibris can get past their stoic demeanor and on the other Aras can't really keep to themselves. Uncannily good at close quarters combat, despite small stature. Goes for the crotch hard and often. They mainly use bioresonance for non-combat means, as overuse causes headaches and nosebleeds. If a kolibiri does try to kill with bioresonance, it is extremely painful for both parties, ending with ears, eyes, and nose bleeding, and sometimes so painful victims attempt ending themselves partly through. This usually only happens on accident, when a Kolibri is extremely unstable, Storches favorite drink is unironically water. I love water too so no hate. They like watching Aras climb since it reminds them of a spider, which they find cute, especially when Aras carry wire with them. In every cadre at least one (1) Starling has snorted gunpowder at one point. Both Starlings and Storches have built in ear protection for gunshots.

Elsters are also stoic and when given the chance hang out with Aras, sometimes only talking about mechanics. Because Eules are friendly, patient, and can read Aras faces, they eventually get close and an Ara may give access to vents or plants. This is the equivalent of a platonic (or not) wedding ring.

If an Ara decides you're unkind and shares this info with the cadre, it's not just a silent treatment. If you're mean enough, floors will come loose, doors will randomly malfunction, your service requests will remain unanswered just until Adler is about to file a performance complaint, and lights will randomly turn off. If anyone tries to bully a Mynah in any way will face consequences, severe ones. The culprit behind this could be literally anyone except Mynah, and consequences vary depending on the culprit, from ostracizing to being 'accidentally' locked in a room, to being straight up beaten up, and sometimes if the bullying is bad enough high ranking units will opt for decomissioning for 'disrupting workflow' and 'assault on a worker'. Once Storches get past their sadistic tendencies they're actually really fun to hang around and converse with, especially on literature on mythology and warfare. Odd fascination on Sisyphus but it's debated between Storches on wether he's happy or not. Adlers write and they write well. Handwriting on point, but they rarely write in cursive. Because they're sticklers for the rules not all Replikas like them too much, but as long as you comply with regulations they're relaxed guys who enjoy talking about writing and pens. Never insult a favorite pen. They will despise you. Debating pens in a general sense is admissible and often enjoyable. Insulting their Falke can and will have them legitimately attempt to murder you with whatever is on hand, always stating that a 'crime against the nation was committed'. Adlers can forgive protocol mistakes but never forgive such a sin. So long as performance is not hindered protocol breakages are permitted. Adlers are chill with replikas and even Gestalts having relationships with each other, and sometimes covers for them. If performance drops this can change. Each one writes fictional stories about an OC that they will never talk about but Kolibris and Falkes know about anyway. Often immune to propoganda but genuinely don't care, they legitimately love the nation enough that they're okay with whatever the nation is doing. Eules will go out of their way to be nice. If you out-nice them they can and will think of it as a challenge. They sometimes place freshmade food near the kitchen vents to let the Aras know it's time to eat. Eules will use ribbon to tie bows on each others hair and arms. Falkes quickly grow extremely protective of their workers, sometimes extending this fondness to gestalts, though they always let them work most grievances out on their own. If Aras grow similarly fond of their Falke they'll report back to her like Odin's ravens.

[heartseungs-archive]

written in ink | n.jm

genre ➳  historical au (early 19th century), fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

pairings ➳ professor!jaemin x fem!reader (ningning and karina are mentioned)

word count ➳ 15.3k 

warnings ➳ mentions of alcohol, mental illnesses and disorders

info ➳  second installment of batc! surprisingly, this was the one i started writing first, but it took a while to figure out how i wanted to end it. click here to read the other works :)

The oak doors of the Provost’s office are no less intimidating than they were five years ago, towering over any students who find themselves bold enough to meet him.

Even now, Jaemin finds himself swallowing nervously before knocking, even if he is the university equivalent of a teacher’s pet. This meeting would determine everything for his future classes and his research funding. Psychology already had little backing compared to the other departments - Jaemin refused to let it languish away under him.

“Ah. Professor Na. Sit down, please.” The leather armchair is comfortable, and costs much more than the one he has in his office - the benefits of being the Provost reach far and wide, Jaemin supposes, even to the furniture.

“I called you today for something important. As you know, our university has a limited number of scholarships available for the faculty each year.”

Jaemin feels eagerness rise up at the thought of being one of the few professors selected to receive the scholarship in mention, which would provide money - plenty of it. He’s young, though, and the odds are not in his favour when measured up against the eminent figures who have been here for decades.

Still, Jaemin hopes that graduating with first-class honours and being the youngest professor in the history of the university counts for something.

“I do have good news. And bad.” Jaemin doesn’t like the sound of that. He knows the alteration of language is meant to soften a certain blow or some demand that will be required of him. The drumming of Mr Lee’s fingers indicates nervousness, and so does the number of times he’s cleared his throat.

After all, Jaemin is no stranger to the study of human behaviour. He waits, because there is nothing that Jaemin can do now other than listening.

“The admission board looks favourably upon you and wishes to give you the scholarship.” Jaemin waits a little longer.

“However, -” There it is.

“Due to your age, we understand that you have not yet had a full-length research project completed. However, it is a provision under the scholarship.”

Jaemin looks at Mr Lee questioningly. Both men in this room know that full-length research projects take at least half a decade, and Jaemin has barely been teaching for two years. He finds the irony of it amusing: without the scholarship, Jaemin does not have the funds to complete his research. Yet, he cannot get the scholarship in mention without his sixty-page paper.

“You’re doing well in your career, Professor Na, and there’s always the next cycle of scholarships. A little bit more waiting, I’m afraid, but waiting comes with an academic career.”

Jaemin knows that he has time. More of it than others, in fact. But the ambition in him refuses to die down, to keep sailing on this high in his career and see how far he can reach before he falls. Modern Icarus, he presumes, the sun replaced by his name in publications and award ceremonies.

“When’s the deadline for the research paper?” Mr Lee evidently does not expect Jaemin to actually take interest in the offer, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Counting today, a little over a year. But-”

“I’ll do it. I would appreciate it if you submitted my name for confirmation, Mr Lee.”

Despite the doubt on his face, Mr Lee nods, showing his agreement. Before Jaemin can regret his statement, he stands up from the comfortable armchair and leaves the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re insane. Absolutely, utterly insane. Studying psychology has turned you mad.”

“Shut up, Lee Donghyuck.” The boy in question is stretched out on a chaise, leather shoes dangling off the end. In his waistcoat and rumpled dress shirt, Haechan is exactly who he looks to be: a debauched bachelor of high society, indulging in weekends of endless alcohol and dancing.

“He’s right.” Renjun speaks from the corner of the room, where he’s curled up in a chair near the fireplace. Jaemin looks to Jeno for support, but the man simply shrugs from where he’s standing at the doorway.

“You may be the brightest among the few of us, but even I know a year won’t be enough to complete it. Most definitely not by your standards.” Despite Jeno’s lack of support, he still knows him the best.

Jaemin could definitely half-ass a project for the scholarship-it would cut his work by a third, maybe even half. Yet, he would never be able to live with it.

“The line between genius and insanity is so fine. Sometimes I think Jaemin teeters so very close to the latter.”

“That’s your last warning, Donghyuck, before I take the red wine in your hands and pour it over your mother’s favourite carpet,” Jaemin snaps, levelling a sharp gaze at him.

Haechan sits up, a look of faux horror in his face. The jester may fear few things, but his mother’s wrath is one of them. The other being the occasional obsessive daughters of businessmen from the trail of women he leaves jilted.

Nevertheless, this is what makes up Jaemin’s days. If not busy in his office or teaching students, he spends his time with these three other men, who provide sufficient socialization to keep Jaemin from being deemed a social pariah by his overbearing mother. Childhood friends who he met from dinner parties, when their parents had sent them off in favour of gossip and hors d’oeuvres.

The scholarship money is paltry compared to the wealth of their four families combined, and the inheritance that Jaemin will receive eventually. His father would likely not hesitate to fund the project either, but the idea of using money that is not yet his leaves a sour taste in Jaemin’s mouth.

Maybe that’s why Jaemin still uses that broken armchair and forces himself to sleep in the cramped dorm room given to tenured professors - he’s always wanted to prove something. Whether to himself or to the superiors at university, he’s not entirely sure.

The clock strikes two, and the party outside shows no signs of ceasing. After all, it is the weekend, and everyone outside has too much time and money to spend.

”Well, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. I’ll see all of you next week.” The boys nod their farewells, and Jaemin takes his coat from the butler.

He narrowly avoids crashing into someone right as he turns the corner.

Jaemin pauses briefly to take in the appearance of the person before him. Your hair is tied in a chignon and decorated with a studded headband. In your hand, there is a glass of sparkling wine.

If anything, Jaemin thinks you look like the female version of Renjun. But Renjun’s sister is much, much younger.

Evidently, Jaemin’s silence has caused you to grow impatient, and you stride past quickly. Jaemin watches the agitation of your gait as you walk towards the room he had just left. Perhaps he was wrong about the sister part. You definitely fit the bill of a revengeful ex-lover.

“Lee Donghyuck, you owe me money. Hand it over, you cheat,” is the last thing Jaemin hears that night when he leaves the hallway.

Jaemin discovers exactly who you are two weeks later when you arrive in the form of three sharp knocks on his door.

“Come in.” It’s likely to be a student, he thinks, and Jaemin sighs because he’s told them countless times of the ever-present consultation schedule that they can fill in at the administrative office. Yet, every evening, there’s that one anxious student pacing outside his office, hoping for some morsel of knowledge before the final exams come around.

His friends aren’t known to be the type to knock either, unless for some sort of prank. The long day is wearing on him much more than expected, and he silently hopes the session will be brief.

However, Jaemin’s pretty sure you’re not a student. One, because he’s a good professor who makes an effort to know all his students. Second, he’s pretty sure none of the female students go around campus in cocktail dresses.

“You’re Jaemin, aren’t you? Donghyuck’s friend.”

“That would be me. Any reason you’re in my office at eight on a Friday evening?” Jaemin tries not to show surprise at your knowledge of Haechan’s real name, the one he uses for close friends.

Whether Haechan’s prospective creditor or jilted lover, however, Jaemin has little interest to find out why you’ve extended his working hours.

“You need money. I have it, and I need you to do something for me in return.” Definitely a creditor, then. Perhaps this was your job. Lending money to noblemen, and charging exorbitantly high-interest rates. In your defence, it was a smart way to go about things.

But something caused Jaemin to pause. A creditor wouldn’t be the worst way to go, especially if he could pay you after the scholarship funding had come in.

“What’s the interest rate?” This time, it’s your turn to look confused, before realization settles in. Compared to your imperious demeanour from the previous time, you look almost sheepish.

“I’m not a moneylender. Haechan just needed funds to buy something for a friend. Honestly, this deal is more for me than it is for you.”

Jaemin continues looking at you, motivating you to explain.

“I’ll fund the research, and help you with it. In return, I want to be able to attend on-campus lectures. And I want my name as an assistant author on the publication.”

“So this is a bribe?”

“Not a bribe. Think of me as an investor. I contribute, and in return, I get a stake in the research.”

“You’d be better off in the Business faculty then. The applications for enrolment open in December this year. ”

“You know every woman the officers admit to this university is done only to the bare minimum to fill those statistics. I’ve been trying for the past three years. I can show you my applications.” The desperation in your voice fills Jaemin with a sense of shame somehow - he, star student and youngest professor. Would his life have been different if he was you?

Jaemin’s well-aware of the discriminatory policies employed by the admissions department - it doesn’t help that most of them are elderly men who remain rooted in the old traditions.

Jaemin hasn’t seen a female Psychology student before, because the only degrees truly open to them are in education and nursing. Essentially, you’re contracting him as a tutor, besides the partnership on the research.

He looks at your attire, and it makes sense to him now - you must be a weekly attendee of Donghyuck’s raucous parties. He grabs his coat, and you move, as if almost to physically stop him from leaving until he agrees to your demands.

“I’m willing to allow you to attend lectures for free. However, I’m unaware of your qualifications, even if you’re Donghyuck’s friend. Send me your applications, and I’ll think about it.” You look surprised at his agreement, and even Jaemin is - he’s not one to entertain many demands, and he works better alone on research. He shouldn’t even be considering it, and yet.

You smile gratefully at him, just as the clock ticks half past eight. “Oh, I’m running late. Here are the applications, and other information. I do have to leave now, but my mail address is in the file. Thank you so much, Jae- Professor Na.” You stumble over his name, but before Jaemin can react, your purse is in your hand and your coat over your arm.  The door closes with a final resounding thud, leaving the room silent once again. The quiet now feels empty, and Jaemin glances towards the coffee table you had just been at a few seconds ago.

You came prepared, obvious in the way the bundle of papers are neatly arranged in a file and labelled. Jaemin picks it up, only to be greeted by a picture of your profile. You look much younger in the photo, still starry-eyed with excitement. L/N Y/N, twenty-one years of age.

He wonders whether the repeated rejections from the university admissions dulled it, instead replacing the excitement with steely conviction. He must have been a last resort of sorts, a lucky strike in the dark at pursuing your aspirations before they fizzled out completely. Jaemin can imagine the officers receiving your file and pushing it back to the return address unopened, explaining the pristine condition.

Maybe he doesn’t owe it to you to look through, but Jaemin feels like he does. A glance at the clock, and Jaemin rubs his eyes tiredly. It seems his working hours will be extended, after all.

You’ve never been very good at billiards.

You’re not sure why Renjun requested it instead of cards, considering the both of you make a good team against Donghyuck and Jeno. Now, however, you are losing terribly, and the debt Donghyuck owes you is slowly dwindling.

With him, however, it’s always one person owing the other. You’ll simply have to beat him in bridge later. Renjun makes eye contact with you, and you shrug. The victor is obvious, and it can be seen with every teasing lilt of Donghyuck’s voice.

Jeno can only smile silently as he scores, but you think that might be worse. The black ball rolls to the corner of the table and drops in, with Donghyuck letting out a cheer.

Just then, Donghyuck glances at his wrist. Decorated with a flashy Patek Philippe, it’s both annoyingly ostentatious and eye-catching. A perfect fit for the owner, you suppose.

”Well then, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. Y/N, you owe me six thousand now. I also accept payment in the form of wine, though six thousand won’t be nearly enough for a good bottle.”

Your brows lower in a frown. “Aren’t you staying for bridge?”

“And lose ten thousand dollars to you? No thank you. Jeno can do it if he wants.” Donghyuck smiles sweetly before exiting the room, and you’re half tempted to chase after him.

“Don’t bother. He’s off to find the love of his life.” Renjun says offhandedly.

“You mean the love of the week, Renjun.”

Jeno shakes his head, and you look at him curiously. “They’re not in a relationship. It’s his best friend. Every week, at twelve, he’s off.”

For someone like Donghyuck, who chooses when time moves and when it doesn’t, the punctuality is pleasantly surprising. You think back to the way he started to get slightly more jumpy and nervous as the clock ticked nearer, and a fond smile finds its way onto your face.

He must really be happy. You briefly wonder what it’s like, to look forward to the sight of someone so earnestly.

Then, your mind gets drawn back to the present. “We need four people for bridge. I can try calling Jisung, but he might be busy.” Renjun says.

“I’ll go get some more champagne. Anything else you guys want?” Renjun and Jeno shake their heads, and you prepare yourself to confront the din of the ballroom. From a corner, the string instruments of the band carry across the high ceilings, and couples dance in circles. There are at least a hundred, maybe even more. You suppose that’s why there are parties every weekend. Renjun’s huge estate would feel much too empty with just him and the occasional visitor.

You’re too busy admiring the lacquered walls and mahogany detailing, that it’s too late when you realise you’ve bumped into someone. You gasp, mainly because you’re shocked, but also because the champagne in your hands has ended up on the floor.

And on Jaemin’s clothes, unfortunately.

“I am so sorry,” you stutter out, but you’re at a loss even as the servants rush over and clean up the mess you’ve made. However good a partnership you’ve offered him, you’re quite sure it’s all gone now. You definitely wouldn’t offer someone the same mercies, especially if they spilt champagne all over you out of their own idiocy.

Yet, Jaemin breaks into a radiant smile. “It’s alright.” He says, and you’re not sure what to believe. Perhaps he’s maintaining politeness, especially in a room with so many eyes.

“No, wait. Please let me pay for the suit. It must be expensive.” Judging by the look of the fabric and the way it’s tailored to Jaemin’s figure, it will cost a pretty penny to compensate. Jaemin shakes his head, shrugging off the now-damp jacket and passing it to a butler who immediately heads down the hallway. This is Renjun’s house, after all, and Jaemin is a familiar face to the staff.  The jacket will be laundered promptly and delivered to his house before the week is over.

“It’s genuinely alright, Miss L/N. I came to find you, so this is just as well.” A sense of resignation overtakes you. No wonder Jaemin’s being so kindly. He must be here to reject your offer of a partnership. You’re glad he agreed to the lectures, but the thought of having to see him afterwards during lessons feels mortifying.

The short conversation with Jaemin in his office was much more revealing than you had hoped. You must have looked desperate, and maybe that’s why he took pity on you.

However, you refuse for that to be the only impression he has of you, and instead paste a smile on your face.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, then.”

The chilly night air is welcoming, and you’re glad you wore a longer dress tonight. On this balcony, you can see the entire expanse of Renjun’s family estate. He’s always been the proudest of the gardens, and rightfully so- an endless expanse of green stretches out, decorated by carefully maintained flora. In the far distance lies his personal arboretum and workroom, where he does most of his painting.

“Mr Na, if you’re here to tell me bad news, now seems like a poor time. Monday would be much more fitting.” A low laugh cuts through the hushed atmosphere, and you almost feel proud.

“Then I am glad that this is good news.” Your sharp intake of breath can be heard on the silent balcony, and you peer at him, willing him to continue.

“I read your applications. And your essays. It was surprising. The quality…the insights made…you’re leagues ahead of my best students and most of the peers I had. And…”

The compliment settles down into you, a kernel of warmth despite the low temperature. You incline your head in thanks. “And?”

Jaemin looks hesitant of his actions, and you can tell he’s thinking very hard about how to word something. One second passes, and then two.

“I think I could benefit from having your contributions to the research.”

There is complete silence for a moment, and then you huff out a laugh. However, it comes out more as a relieved sigh.

He agreed. Na Jaemin, the top student on the honor roll and the youngest Psychology professor in the history of the university, has agreed to take you on as a partner in his research.

For some strange reason, his approval means so much more than anything the interview officers could have said to you. Even if they had accepted your application, it would be nothing compared to what Jaemin has just told you.

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth rise up slightly, and you’re sure he can see the happiness on your face.

“Looking forward to working with you, Miss Y/N L/N.” Jaemin’s palm is warm against yours as he shakes your hand, and you can’t help the sense of hope that fills you.

“Just Y/N is fine.” You’re determined not to disappoint him, to show that you were worth the chance.

“Please address me as Jaemin as well, then. The first lecture is at nine on Monday. It’s quite late, so I’ll leave you to enjoy the party. We can discuss the specifics after.”

Just as he is about to leave, however, a thought comes into your head, and a grin inevitably makes its way onto your face.

“Jaemin!” You call, and he turns around. The name flows nicely, and it’s easy for you to say, almost familiar. Under the chandelier, his eyes sparkle brightly, even as hints of fatigue creep at the sides.

“How good of a hand are you at bridge?”

“Metempsychosis. Can anyone tell me what that means?” Immediately, multiple hands are raised, and Jaemin looks at the students appraisingly.

He tries not to let his gaze drift to the corner of the room where a woman is seated, fountain pen in hand. Your entrance into the room had drawn plenty of eyes in the morning - the Psychology department had never seen a female student before, and the confident uptilt of your head only served to further emphasise that.

Fortunately enough, university students were one of the most self-contained populations to be found. They asked few questions about others and more about themselves, which meant there wasn’t the danger of news of your presence getting around to the admission officers. Not that they would have cared much - after all, security wasn’t particularly strict on the campus.

Jaemin points to a boy with curled black hair, signalling him to reply.

“The transmigration of the soul. Reincarnation after death, essentially.” Jaemin nods. “Very good. I know the majority of us here likely don’t believe in reincarnation, but Plato did, and that’s why we’re here now.” This draws a few laughs from his audience, and Jaemin smiles.

“However, we aren’t here to discuss life after death. I want you to think about the soul. What is it, in relation to the body? Where does its importance lie?” The hall falls silent, and Jaemin sees students flipping through their notes, as if hoping an answer will descend from the sky.

This time, his gaze falls on you and your raised hand. “Y/N. Would you like to contribute?” Jaemin’s equal parts torn between diminishing your presence to prevent unnecessary attention, and the desire to hear your opinion.

To you, Jaemin’s piercing gaze is unnerving, even from far away. It almost makes you doubt your answers. Pull yourself together, Y/N.

“The soul is the source of our life and mind. Our body is nothing more than a physical vessel of flesh. Our soul makes us human.“ You had done an essay analysing Phaedo the previous season, and its core arguments remained clear in your head.

“A classic argument by Socrates. What makes up a soul, then?” Jaemin smiles slightly, and you recall. He’s read your essay, and he knows your exact thoughts. Does he wish for you to share it with the class?

The students are staring at you now, slightly more intrigued.

“The tripartite soul theory. Our physical desires, intangible passions, and our need for truth. More simply put, what we want, what we love, and what we think,” you state, eyes fixed on Jaemin’s expression. His barely-there grin turns much more obvious, and it makes you feel pleased with yourself.

“Very well said. The link between psychology and philosophy is much closer than many of us think, despite one being a science and the other an art. That brings me to the assigned readings for this week, which will delve more into the tripartite soul theory that Y/N mentioned, among others. I’ll see everyone next week.”

The students shuffle out of the lecture hall, nodding at Jaemin in greeting as they leave. Many of them look at him with barely-concealed admiration, despite only being a few years younger. It almost makes you envious.

“That was…a good lecture. I enjoyed it.” Your compliment comes out hesitantly, but you mean it sincerely. Jaemin’s a much better presenter than you imagined, and you found yourself laughing at his well-placed quips more often than you didn’t. The students are lucky to have a lecturer like him, compared to the grumpy, stone-faced ones the university is so well-known for.

“Thank you. I would offer for you to be my teaching assistant, but it would be better not to push our luck for now. I trust my students, but not too much. Shall we head to my office?”

You follow Jaemin down the winding halls of the faculty building, the sunlight streaming in through the arched windows. When you reach his office, your face is slightly red, and Jaemin notices it.

“Sorry. My office is a little far from the lecture hall. Also, I tend to walk a bit faster when I’m alone,” Jaemin apologises, and you shake your head. It’s not entirely his fault that he’s almost a head taller than you, and one step of his is twice of yours.

However, you’re grateful for the cold glass of water that he passes to you. Jaemin clears his throat, causing you to glance at him.

“Here’s what I have so far. Take a look, and tell me what you think.” The file is heavy in your hands, and Jaemin’s signature scrawl can be seen on the first page.

The title causes you to let out an incredulous laugh. Jaemin arches an eyebrow, almost concerned, and you realise he may have taken the laughter the wrong way. “Is it very surprising?”

“No, not at all,” you rush to clarify. “I just…can’t believe that someone would actually want to research into the exact same field.”

It’s bizarre, really, considering how much you thought your ideas would be scorned. The idea of cognitive function being a scientific field of study isn’t yet accepted by many, and would be unlikely to gain any sponsorship.

You had expected Jaemin to propose studies into behavioural psychology. Pavlov’s dogs and conditioning. It was soaring in popularity within academic circles, and seemed to be the only research done these days. Yet, each of the experiments conducted seemed to become crueller in nature, aimed at publications to shock the public. That was where the money was, after all.

Jaemin feels a sense of relief at your words. His nervousness was unnecessary, after all. When he had first compiled the file, he wasn’t sure how you would respond. After all, cognitive psychology had barely been recognized as a legitimate field of study. Perhaps you would think he was dragging you down with him.

“Memory and perception. They differ from person to person, and I want to find out why,” Jaemin states, and you nod, barely able to contain your excitement.

‘We’ll have to plan out the methodology, of course. There was a report published about long and short-term memory by an American doctor. Of course, it’s not entirely verified, but I think it’ll be of great help.”

Jaemin watches as you stride across the room, throwing ideas out whenever they come to mind, with a faint smile lingering on his face. Each one of them is written down carefully in his notebook to ponder over later, once you leave.

“And I was thinking, maybe if we- oh, I got carried away.” Your rapid footsteps pause and you feel your face turning red. Jaemin, polite as ever, had been listening to your rambling without interruption.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. I genuinely enjoy listening to your ideas. Please don’t hesitate to share them.” You can tell Jaemin is being earnest from the way he looks at you, pen in his hand. The feeling of having someone listen to you and value your contributions feels slightly foreign, but the feeling it brings is definitely one of happiness.

By the time the both of you are done with a tentative outline, the sun is close to approaching the horizon, and you rub your eyes blearily.

“I think we’re done for today,” you barely hold back a yawn as you say it, and Jaemin tries not to laugh at your appearance.

“We’re running on quite a tight timeline, but I think we’ll make it. Would meeting four times a week be alright with you?” Jaemin asks, and he allows you a few seconds to consider.

“That works. I’ll see you on Thursday, then. Have a good evening, Jaemin.” As you leave, you wonder what time Jaemin will finish his work. The last time, he had come to the party after midnight.

Na Jaemin intrigues you at every turn, and you wonder what you will discover about him next.

“Where were you today?”

The tune you’re humming under your breath quickly stills to a halt, and you almost trip over the marble floor of your hallway. Looking at the ceiling, you curse your luck. Of all the days that your father had to be home early, it had to be today.

“I was with a friend,” your voice comes out shaky, and you hate yourself for it. Turning around, you steel your nerves for his interrogatory glare.

“Are you messing around with that stupid boy again? Donghyuck?” Your father’s tone is accusatory, and his disapproval of Donghyuck is evident. Donghyuck’s parties are the talk of the neighbourhood, often for bad reasons among the older generation, and good among your peers. it definitely doesn’t help that you can often hear the commotion, considering his estate is less than two miles down.

“I wasn’t with Donghyuck today, for a matter of fact. And he isn’t stupid,” you defend. Donghyuck may be brash, and playful, but he is your friend.

“That boy is a good-for-nothing and will drink himself to death one day. You’re a proper lady and should act like it. Stop going to his parties, and stay at home.”

“And what? Stare at the pretty wallpaper until I’m driven to insanity out of boredom?” You bite back, glaring at your father. He’s never been particularly supportive of your attempt to obtain a degree and proper employment, still stuck in the yesteryears of his childhood.

“You foolish girl. You’ll realise it when your reputation is ruined.” Your father’s voice is full of venom, and you try not to flinch at his harsh words. Instead, you stride resolutely down the hallway and close your bedroom door with a harsh bang.

Fatigue overtakes you properly now, combined with emotional exhaustion. When you’re sure you’re alone, you allow your shoulders to droop slightly, shrugging off your coat. The quiet night air provides a source of comfort as you settle onto the ottoman at the foot of your bed. You’re not sure when it became like this. When your home became an unfamiliar place and your family turned hostile. Your mother is sweet to you, but she is also docile to your father, which you supposed has worsened it so much more.

That night, you lie down in your bed, turning Jaemin’s words over and over in your head, almost as if you’ll discover a new meaning behind them. They soften the harsh blow of your father,  acting as a balm against the invisible bruises of his words.

Teaching assistant.

The idea seems almost impossible to you, and yet. A job doing what you loved, and having the time to do your own research, undisturbed. An official position that would make sure no one could question what you were doing at the university.

And Jaemin. Having him as a colleague would be enjoyable, to say the least. He made a good partner. Maybe if you were patient enough, you could even become an associate professor.

You didn’t dare to verbalize that thought, for it felt a bit too out of reach. For now, at least.

“We’ll have the salmon filet and the beef rib as well, thank you. And three glasses of Chardonnay.” The waiter nods, taking the menus off the table.

“Wait, Renjun, Jeno, look,” Donghyuck points across the street, outside the window of the restaurant.

Across the street is you, in a light pink dress, and what looks to be a stack of books. Next to you is a man whose back looks awfully familiar to Donghyuck, and he can’t place it exactly. Until he gasps dramatically.

“That traitor. He said he wasn’t available for dinner today. But he’s out with Y/N. What the hell are they doing together?” Donghyuck’s pretty sure the both of you aren’t acquainted, and he’s not sure what exactly to make of it. There aren’t many explanations for the both of you to be seen alone with each other, unless…

“Oh, they met a while ago. Jeno and I played bridge against the both of them,” Renjun casually drops this piece of information, and Donghyuck stares at him. This must have happened after he had left.

The wine is served, but Donghyuck doesn’t take a single sip. Instead, he watches very carefully. The moment he sees you leave the store, Jaemin quickly takes over half the books from your hands. You walk on the inside of the pavement, Jaemin at your side.

A knowing smile appears on Donghyuck’s face as he watches the both of you approach the exact same restaurant where he is seated in.

“You look a little creepy, Donghyuck. Stop it,” Jeno mutters, as he sees Haechan’s face.

“I have a very good idea. But I need the both of you to help.”

Renjun looks over at Donghyuck suspiciously, and with valid reason. He’s not entirely sure what Haechan has planned, and whether it’ll turn out well or an absolute disaster. “What is it?” Renjun asks.

“I’ll tell you guys later. Jaemin! Y/N! Over here!” Haechan shouts as the both of you near his table. The familiar baritone of Donghyuck’s voice rings out across the restaurant, and you turn to him, immediately making your way over.

While you’re engrossed in talking to Renjun, Haechan meets Jaemin’s eyes. Liar, he mouths across the table, and Jaemin simply rolls his eyes.

“What are those books for?” Jeno does the task of asking the question on Donghyuck’s mind.

“Oh. Well…” You cast a glance at Jaemin, not entirely sure what to say. You’re not sure how much he wants to divulge to the three of them about the project, considering it isn’t exactly the most conventional arrangement.

“Y/N’s working with me as an assistant researcher and author. It’ll be a joint publication.”

Renjun hums quietly under his breath, taking in the information. “Y/N, are you sure you want to work with this guy? He doesn’t understand the concept of working hours.”

“Jaemin’s a great colleague, actually. I almost feel bad for not working as hard as him, considering he still has to teach.” You’re quick to speak for Jaemin, and it makes him light up visibly.

Jeno watches as Donghyuck’s grin gets inevitably wider the more he watches the both of you interact, and he realises that the boy has found a new occupation of interest: matchmaking.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, soft enough for you to hear but not the other three men at the table. He knows that he’ll definitely be the subject of Donghyuck’s incessant questions and meddling, but he rather it be later than sooner.

For now, he is content with watching as you crack jokes with Renjun and make Donghyuck the subject of said mockery. While your confidence in front of his students is admirable, you become witty and lively in the comfort of people familiar to you, and Jaemin finds himself enjoying the sight more than expected.

The street is still busy despite the late hour when the five of you finally finish dinner. Your feet are starting to ache from the stiff satin heels that you’ve been walking in all day, and the heavy, leather-bound books only serve to make it worse. Donghyuck hails two cabs, one for the three of them and another for you and Jaemin.

“Night out?” The driver asks once both of you are settled in, flashing a friendly smile. There is white hair creeping at the edges of his beard, and two sun-weathered hands gripping the steering wheel.

Both Jaemin and you nod, and you decide to look out the window, watching as the scenery outside changes from the city centre to the suburbs.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come with me today to get the manuals. I could have saved you the hassle,” Jaemin says, and you turn to him. In the dim glow of the streetlights, his profile is shrouded by shadows, his features somehow softened.

“It really wasn’t an issue. Besides, you spoke so fondly of that bookstore, and I can see why now.”

“They have one of the biggest collections on psychology, and the most frequently updated too. Though the medicine and history shelves are also very extensive.”

“It’s a pity we were short of time today, then. Maybe next time you can show me around,” you suggest, and Jaemin nods his assent. It almost feels like a promise.

Somewhere along the way, the jam-packed buildings turn into carefully manicured garden hedges, and the driver goes up the familiar winding path leading to your home.

Jaemin alights from the taxi and is at your side much quicker than you can comprehend, opening the door for you. “I guess this is it. Good night, Jaemin,” you say, smiling up at him. He inclines his head slightly, passing you the books. You’ll have to finish reading most of them by next week, but instead of dread, you find yourself looking forward to the days you spend in Jaemin’s office working on the project.

Once back in the taxi, Jaemin watches as you disappear into the foyer of your house, books in hand. He only turns his head back once the lights of your family’s estate fade away.

“Your sweetheart?” The driver’s voice jolts Jaemin out of his reverie. It is a perfectly innocent question, and yet catches him off guard. Jaemin vehemently shakes his head. “Just a colleague.” He sees the driver smile in the rearview, and Jaemin thinks it reminds him awfully of Haechan’s grin.

“The both of you would make a handsome couple,” he comments, and Jaemin chooses to remain silent. Objectively, Jaemin does find you beautiful. Any person with two working eyes could likely deduce that. But he’s barely known you for two months, and worked with you for even less. The idea of developing feelings for you, or anyone for that matter, seems like a rather bizarre idea.

More than that, he admires you for your talent and the ideas you contribute during the many discussions. You’re not just a colleague and an assistant, but a friend whose presence Jaemin feels rather comfortable in, no less than the trio he so often sees. He can’t help but think that the project would have been unlikely to come to fruition without your help and that perhaps you, Y/N L/N, came at the exact right time.

“Now, what has been keeping our Y/N so occupied that she can barely meet us once a week?” Karina levels her gaze at you from above her cup, expecting an answer. You do feel slightly guilty to have cancelled on both her and Ningning repeatedly over the past few weeks, simply due to the fact that you had chosen to sleep in after burning the midnight oil.

“Employment. I’m not sure if the both of you have ever heard of it,” you remark drily, though you know it’s untrue. Despite what may seem to be lives of leisure, Karina and Ningning are two of the hardest-working people you know. One is a famous actress, the other running a leading fashion house.

“Did you finally get a job at the university?” Ningning asks, overjoyed on your behalf.

“Sorry to let you down, but it’s not yet permanent. I’m working as a research assistant for this one professor and attending lectures on campus.”

“Who’s the professor?” Karina is curious, and you’re sure she plans to do some poking around. After all, several of the elders in her family are long-standing alumnae of the university, and she knows most, if not all of the prominent faculty members. Except for your colleague, however.

“He’s quite young. Na Jaemin,” you mutter, already expecting her surprised gasp.

“You’re working with Na Jaemin? First-class honours student Na Jaemin? My grand-uncle kept waxing lyrical about him a few years ago. He’s rising so quickly through the ranks, they think he might just become Provost before the decade is over,” Karrina informs, and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride for the way she speaks about Jaemin. He would make a good Provost, you think. At least he wouldn't stop female students from being admitted, and definitely would not have been suspected of embezzling funds for personal use.

“Is he scary? Academics can get that way. I suspect most of them have a screw loose, actually.” Ningning interjects, and you look at her, amused. The previous winter, Ningning had been involved with a famous Arts professor from a rival university. Needless to say, the both of them had not ended on the best of terms.

“He’s very sweet, actually. Leagues ahead of the other stuffy old men at the university. He’s a great teacher too.”

“Is he good-looking?” Karina’s sly smile from behind her teacup causes you to narrow your eyes at her.

“Haven’t you met him before?” Karina’s a regular guest at many of the university's forums and seminars. Being the great-granddaughter of the university’s founder exempts her from the open disdain of the Provost towards members of the opposite sex, especially when she’s the one forking out his salary.

Karina had offered you an easy way in: one word from her, and you would be enrolled immediately. Still, it felt like admitting defeat in some way. You wanted to make a career in some way based on your own merit, and Jaemin provided a semblance of that.

“I’ve only seen him briefly. I don’t think he’s attended a single function this year. Maybe he’s antisocial?”

“Or just introverted,” Ningning mumbles, and you smile at her. Karina and yourself have always been the more outgoing ones of your trio, finding it easier to make conversation with total strangers. In fact, the both of you had been the ones to meet Ningning, before realising she had been a mutual acquaintance and solidifying the trio.

Still, you can’t say you’re surprised at the knowledge that Jaemin rarely attends any of the university’s gatherings for the faculty. After all, many of the men there are twice his age, and the atmosphere likely isn’t the most enjoyable. Which makes it even more impressive that his superiors hold in in such high regard, considering how everyone makes it their mission to make powerful connections in circles such as theirs.

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Karina says insistently, and you shrug. “He’s decent, I suppose. Most people would find him attractive.”

“So do you find him attractive?” Ningning is curious now too, almost leaning all the way forward. You make a face at both of them. “What’s up with the strange questions today?”

Karina grins, leaning back, and makes a pointed glance at Ningning. “Please don’t try to play matchmaker. We’re only colleagues. Besides, I doubt a relationship would be something Jaemin is remotely interested in, considering his hectic work,” you warn.

“She even took into account his work schedule. Not bad,” Ningning mutters, trying not to let out a laugh. You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge the both of them temporarily. Despite their teasing and love for meddling, you are sure that Karina and Ningning will not do anything without your knowledge.

Compared to both of them, there hasn’t been much space for romance in your life. Karina’s image was always plastered in the newspapers with whichever actor she was working with, while Ningning had her fair share of encounters with fellow designers and models. After all, you spent much of your time attempting to pursue your career, albeit rather unsuccessfully. While you enjoyed parties and balls, the men you met there were often uptight in the way that members of the gentry were. The ones that you found tolerable remained purely platonic. You think you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than ever be involved with Renjun, Jeno or Donghyuck.

Jaemin was…well, Jaemin. Professor extraordinaire, a brilliant student of psychology, and a friend whose presence you found more enjoyable each and every day. Karina and Ningning see your gradual drift into your own thoughts and remain silent, attempting to hide their grins behind their food.

They wonder if maybe, just maybe, you might have spoken too soon.

Another season passes, and winter is heralded by the bone-white landscape and empty, ghostly trees that make up the campus. Still, you find a strange sort of beauty in it, even if it lacks the warm tones of autumn.

It’s also much easier to appreciate the landscape when you are curled up in an armchair in Jaemin’s office, the fireplace burning brightly and a cup of hot chocolate in hand. Although small, his office is cosy and homely, with dark oak furnishings dotting the room and a plush white carpet in the middle of the room. Over the past half a year or so, his office has grown to be like a second home, considering how much time you spend in it. He’s even given you a space of your own, where your books and stationery are arranged neatly on a shelf.

You’ve grown accustomed to the sight of Jaemin sitting at his desk, fountain pen in hand. He’s often busy marking scripts, occasionally muttering to himself when the paper is exceptionally good, or disappointing. He lets out a noise of disgruntlement, and you glance up.

“Rough essay?” You ask, and Jaemin rubs his forehead, extending the papers in your direction.

“Take a look, and tell me what you think. I know this student is good, but I think they rushed this project. However, I don’t want to completely derail their academic grade and destroy a chance of a scholarship.”

Jaemin waits patiently while you read through the essay, watching as you furrow your eyebrows at certain parts, almost identical to him.

“So?” He asks once you pass the manuscript back to him, humming in thought.

“There’s definitely some obvious glaring flaws. But I don’t think you should discount their entire thought process.”

“But I asked for an essay that looked at the ethical issues concerning psychological research on humans. He stated that there weren’t any,” Jaemin says, now looking entirely confused.

You shrug. “But morality is subjective, isn’t it? Sure, there are common principles that people tend to follow, but what’s ethical in the eyes of a government may be different from the individual person. Is it alright to sacrifice a single person for the common good? Maybe not. But he can argue for it.”

Jaemin pauses then, his expression still frozen as he mulls over your words. Gradually, a grin makes its way onto his face, and you watch as he grabs the pen and scribbles on the manuscript before placing it on the stack that’s already done.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

“I’m sure you could do plenty. But two minds are better than one, I suppose,” you say, smiling back. Jaemin leans back in his chair, resting his head on his hands. Compared to his usual stiff posture, it’s much more relaxed, and you find your shoulders not tensing as much anymore.

“Out of curiosity, what made you start Psychology?” Jaemin asks, and his eyes are genuine when he looks at you. You’re not entirely sure how to reply, considering no one’s ever asked you the question. Not the university admission officers, not your parents, not even your friends.

Only Jaemin.

“I’ll tell you a story, But you have to promise not to laugh,” you warn, and Jaemin nods.

“I had a very bad argument with a man in a bookstore over a certain literary text. Quite stupid, I know. Seventeen-year-old me was quite hot-headed. Out of the blue, he started arguing that I was wrong because the brain volume of a man was larger than that of a woman.”

Jaemin knows what you made him promise, but the corners of his lips are tugged up anyways. You glare at him. “You promised not to laugh!” He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I swear, with full honesty, that you’re not the one I’m laughing at. It’s just an amusing story. So you took Psychology to prove him wrong?”

“Sort of. That was my motivation at first. But I think along the way, I just fell in love with the subject itself.” There’s a light in your eyes when you speak about it, and Jaemin can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re so passionate about what you do, and it reminds Jaemin of the starry-eyed first-year student that he was.

Along the way, he doubted whether he had even chosen the right thing to study. Had he been so caught up in chasing success that he lost his passion somewhere along the way?

But collaborating with you seems to light a new spark in Jaemin’s heart, where he finally has someone to share his ideas with. He’s never been able to learn so much from someone in so little time, and you’re capable. Even more than him, perhaps. Jaemin wonders if you know that.

“What about you, Jaemin?” Your question jolts him out of his thoughts, and Jaemin’s breath hitches. You take his slight hesitation for alarm, and wonder if you asked the wrong question. “If it’s too personal, you really don’t have to,” you blurt out in panic, eyes wide.

However, Jaemin shakes his head. “I don’t mind telling you at all. It’s just that it’s not as fun a story as yours. More sad, actually.” He looks rather forlorn, and you’re not sure how to reach out to him. Instead, you sit in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“My grandmother suffered from memory loss. It was very bad, but doctors refused to diagnose her. They tried sending her to an institution to be confined, but my parents decided to keep her at home instead. She passed away a few months later.” he mutters, and you realise that this must be something that he doesn’t tell many people, from the way the words come out stilted. Alzheimer’s had just been properly diagnosed for the first time less than five years ago, and the cases were often few and far in between.

You suppose this must have happened when he was much younger, when the number of experienced psychologists in the city was horrendously low. The fact that he’s willing to divulge this information to you tugs at your heartstrings, and Jaemin suddenly looks terribly alone from the way he’s hunched over at the desk.

Despite all the praise heaped on him and the many accolades, Jaemin’s still young, no older than you.

Suddenly, his motivation for choosing cognitive function as a research area makes so much sense. Jaemin wants to know how people have memories because he knows someone who lost them.

You’re not one in the way of comforting people, but you walk closer to Jaemin’s desk and grab his hands. It’s sudden, judging from the way Jaemin immediately looks up at you, but he doesn’t pull his hands away from yours. You think that’s a pretty good start.

“She would be proud of you if she knew what you were doing now. You’ll be able to help even more people with your research. And besides, we’re partners now. We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, and the dark clouds in Jaemin’s expression seem to clear up. There’s a shine to his eyes as he looks at you, and the atmosphere is strangely peaceful.

“Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot. More than you know.” His voice is level now, and you can tell that whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind have cleared up temporarily. You allow a grin to make its way onto your face.

“It’s getting rather late. If you want to thank me, let’s go out for dinner.”

Jaemin’s eyes immediately dart to the clock, and he stands up abruptly, moving towards the coat rack and passing you yours before shrugging one on.

“My treat, then,” he replies as he holds the door open for you.

“I haven’t seen the both of you in weeks. It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the earth,” Donghyuck mutters as he looks at you and Jaemin, a blank expression on his face. You smile sheepishly at him.

“Sorry. We’re really busy with the project. It’s in its final stages now,” you confess, and Donghyuck hums, nodding.

“Speaking of which, Donghyuck, I have something to ask.” Jaemin’s words spark your curiosity, but you continue flipping through the book that you have in your hands.

“How would you like to be one of our test subjects?”

You turn your head to look up sharply at him. Jaemin’s voice is sweet when he says it, and there’s obvious alarm in your eyes. Jaemin catches your gaze, but he doesn’t retract the offer. Instead, he just smiles, and you realise what he’s doing.

Donghyuck ponders over the offer, casting a glance at Jaemin suspiciously, who keeps his expression perfectly blank and innocent.

“Sure. It sounds fun,” Donghyuck replies, and Jaemin breaks out into the widest smile you’ve ever seen. You try not to burst out laughing, using your book to cover your mouth. Jaemin has a concealed sense of mischief that only seems to reveal itself at odd moments, most often in situations involving Donghyuck.

This will be fun, you think.

Two hours later, the test subject in mention is glaring at the both of you from where he sits, pen in hand and sheet in the other.

“You didn’t say I would have to memorise sixteen pages of notes. In the smallest possible font on the typewriter, no less,” Donghyuck states angrily, realising he’s been tricked by the both of you.

“What did you think cognitive function was?” You question, a bemused smile on your face as you hear Donghyuck groan before ruffling his hair in frustration.

“I thought it would be like an interview, you know? Where you get asked different questions and they analyze your answers,” he replies, and you hear a huff of a laugh from behind you. “This isn’t like the ridiculous questionnaires you tick off on the newspaper, Donghyuck,” Jaemin interjects, and Donghyuck eyes widen in offence.

“I will have you know, Na Jaemin, that those questionnaires are extremely accurate. And besides, how would I know? I’m not the Psychology professor here.”

“I’m not a professor either,” you remind him, and Donghyuck smiles slightly. “All three of us in this room know that you are perfectly capable of being one.” Jaemin makes a noise of assent, and your heart soars just a little at the praise.

“Either way, I’m done with your test,” Donghyuck says as he stands up, passing you his papers. You look them over quickly, realising that for all his antics, Donghyuck is actually a lot smarter than he seems.

“You did well,” you mumble absentmindedly, and Donghyuck smirks. “Thanks, I know. I’ll leave now,” he says before leaning close next to your ear. “And have fun with Jaemin,” he whispers almost conspiratorially, and before you can ask him what it means, Donghyuck’s out of the room.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice immediately snaps you back to attention, and you nod quickly. “Oh yes, of course.” Your neck feels awfully warm, and you rub at it, unsure why.

“We know you didn’t need an additional test subject. Did you just want to mess with Donghyuck?”

“Well, I suppose so. It was amusing to see his face when we gave him the list,” Jaemin confesses, and you chuckle under your breath. “On another note, I think we’re done with the first draft.” Your posture immediately stiffens at his words, and you rush over to Jaemin’s desk.

“Really?” You ask incredulously, even though you know Jaemin didn’t have any reason to die. He hands you the bundle of papers that is ten months of hard work and intense research, and you cradle it gently, almost like a baby. It feels oddly momentous, somehow. This is everything you’ve worked for and thought about in every waking moment since that fateful encounter with Jaemin, when the both of you first sealed the deal.

Each word is familiar to you, considering you’ve proofread it a million times, but seeing the research organized and printed out feels oddly surreal. That your work is now tangible. All of your dreams and aspirations are contained within this one little bundle, and it feels precious.

Jaemin looks at the quiet pride on your face as you look through, and he can’t contain his smile either. “I’m going to send it to the university for feedback on the draft, but it’s definitely on par with other competing projects. Once that’s done, it’ll be published,” Jaemin tells you, and you look up at him. There’s an undeniable sense of excitement that pervades you, and the idea of finally seeing it in official print provides a strange sort of thrill.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you say sincerely, and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N.” He’s painfully earnest when he says it, and your heart stumbles slightly as you look at Jaemin. His features seem even more delicate today, his eyes brighter than usual. You’re not sure if it's the heady rush of elation filling you from finishing the project, but you finally understand what Karina meant when she asked you if you found Jaemin attractive.

The thought that Karina might be right scares you, but it’s also exhilarating. You’ve seen Jaemin at his best and in his moments of vulnerability, and he’s been a wonderful partner. Someone who pushes your thoughts in new, unfamiliar directions, who doesn’t hesitate to question your opinions.

You suppose you have to give Karina credit for calling your bluff so early on. Still, now can’t possibly be the right time. The both of you still have some work left to do, and anything now would just be a distraction.

Your feelings will have to wait, but you don’t mind. After all, you enjoy your time with Jaemin now, even if it is occasionally punctuated by the fluttering of your pulse.

It takes three weeks for the panel to review the draft, and another week to give their feedback. The next time you’re in the university, it’s spring, and the smell of fresh flowers invades your senses the moment you step foot on the campus.

You’re poised to knock on the door that’s already half-ajar when you hear muffled conversation from inside. You decide to stay in the hallway, at least until Jaemin’s guest is done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my co-researcher, Mr Lee. I don’t think it’s a matter of want.” You immediately jerk up to pay attention, because that’s you Jaemin’s talking about. You know you’re eavesdropping, but you can’t help it. Jaemin’s voice is uncharacteristically harsh, but so is the Provost’s.

“You know that there will be a penalty on credit for not being a solo researcher. You’re already losing out. And to do it with a girl that has no qualifications, no less…Do you know what the panel will think?”

Mr Lee’s words cause the back of your throat to close up, even as you know they are true to some extent. You had been living in a joyful denial, ignoring the realities of the university’s expectations. Still, you stand outside the office, unable to move.

“Even then-”

“Jaemin. Do you want this scholarship or not? Surely she can’t have contributed that much. Just remove her name and negotiate it with her later.”

Your heart drops to your feet at the Provost’s words. Jaemin doesn’t respond, and for some reason, that feels even worse than Mr Lee stepping all over your hopes with a single sentence. You’re scared of hearing what he might have to say, and you don’t think you can bear hearing his agreement outright. It’s painfully silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling your ears.

You’re suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, almost as if you’re unwelcome here. Jaemin’s office is no longer familiar, instead making you feel worse and worse with each and every second you spend near it.

You need air.

There’s a few students you crash into along the way, some of which recognise you. They look at you bewildered, as you run past them towards the exit. Even then, you’re not quick enough to avoid the first tears falling. At least no one saw you, you suppose. You scoff slightly. Maybe they would use the tears as evidence of your fragile emotional state.

As much as you’re angry at the circumstances you’re in, you also feel like a fool. A fool for having pursued this project with Jaemin, for believing that for a moment, it would work out. For believing Jaemin, especially.

You had your head in the clouds, and now you were crashing back down to Earth in a rapid descent.

You’re not sure why you thought his acceptance would be enough, sufficient for you to reach your goals. It never had been. And judging from his lack of a response to the Provost, you’re about to lose that too.

You can’t even blame him, which you suppose is the worst part. For all you knew, you might have been deadweight this past year. Jaemin would be better off choosing to remove your name, and it would make his life much, much easier. It was a smart decision. You couldn’t possibly take that from him. After all, he deserved the success, the scholarship. You weren’t even a student. What did it matter, in the end?

Still, you’re not sure if you can ever look at Jaemin without being reminded of what you’ve lost. It’s not his fault, but he is a living, breathing reminder of everything you’re not, and every moment you have to live with it might just be a new type of hell. You’re not just going to lose a valuable partner, but a friend too. And perhaps, he might have been more. You don’t know, and you don’t think you want to wonder about the what ifs, because it might just break you even more.

You had promised yourself that if this didn’t work out, you would give up. Give up and do whatever your father wished for you to do. It’s painful, but you’re at the end of your rope. Pursuing another foolish daydream would just simply leave you even more empty. Even then, the bitter taste of defeat refuses to leave your mouth, even as you force your feet to take you towards the arched gates of the campus grounds.

Leaving the campus feels strange, especially since you’re not sure when you will be able to come back. The red brick walls, mulberry trees, stained glass windows - they’ve become as familiar to you as your own home.

So has the dark oak furnishings and lush carpets of Jaemin’s office, but you’ll have to forget about that now.

Jaemin waits for you that entire afternoon.

You’ve never been late, only early or punctual. He checks his schedule twice, just to make sure he’s gotten the correct day. He runs down to his mailbox twice and asks the office, just to see if you left a note for him.

Nothing. It’s like you’ve disappeared, though Jaemin knows that’s not possible. Something must have come up. But even then, as he thinks of all the possibilities, it only makes him more anxious. He quickly scribbles a quick letter and seals it with wax, and he feels a little calmer once he has your address written down and the letter mailed.

I’m sure everything’s fine. She’s likely busy, he tells himself.

He gives it two weeks and six missed lectures before he starts panicking. He’s not a particularly antsy person, or someone who overthinks. At least, that’s what he likes to think of himself, and what most people believe of him. He’s calm and reserved. Jaemin can’t help but worry a bit more when it comes to you, however.

He doesn’t give himself time to regret an impulsive decision, as he hails a cab to bring him to your address. It’s only when he’s standing on the porch, finger on the doorbell, that he hesitates slightly. What if, for whatever reason, you don’t wish to see him?

“Jaemin?”

The sudden appearance of a voice behind him causes Jaemin to jump, but the sound is gentle and familiar. He turns around to see you in a robin-blue sundress, a book in hand. Jaemin’s relief is palpable on his face as he sees you, and he immediately descends the steps, closing the distance between the both of you. However, you retract from him, as if stung, and Jaemin is at a loss.

“Y/N. I didn’t see you for the past two weeks, and I got worried. Forgive me for showing up so suddenly.”

The hesitancy on your face has shifted to an uncomfortable apprehension directed at Jaemin. “I suppose we couldn’t avoid this conversation forever. I’d prefer another place, however,” and you turn, walking away, seemingly for Jaemin to follow you.

There’s a feeling of fear that clings to Jaemin, however, at your words. You’re uncharacteristically cold, tone and expression void of your usual exuberance. Whatever you have to say to Jaemin has to be important. He just hopes it isn’t bad news.

Even then, his mind goes into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible options. Maybe you’re leaving the country. Maybe you’re sick. He doesn’t like any of those options.

Jaemin’s jerked out of his thoughts when you gesture for him to take a seat. The both of you are in a garden, assumedly your family’s. The gazebo provides a welcome respite from the midday sun, and Jaemin watches as you sit opposite him.

The distance feels too far, somehow.

“If you have anything on your mind, Y/N, you can tell me. We’re friends. You know that,” Jaemin assures as he meets your gaze. However, you quickly tear your eyes away from him, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Jaemin can tell you’re nervous, but he’s not sure why. The book is forgotten, placed on the corner of your chair.

“I don’t want to study Psychology anymore,” you mutter, and Jaemin has to wonder if he’s heard you right.

You’re someone even more passionate about the subject than Jaemin is. How-

“I’m just not interested. Not enough to pursue it further,” you say candidly, and Jaemin’s head is spinning, attempting to wrap his head around the reality of the situation. It takes a few minutes for him to collect his thoughts, and the next time he looks at you, his eyes are piercing, uncomfortably so.

“You’re lying. I know you, Y/N,” he replies, and the way you tap your foot on the ground confirms Jaemin’s doubts. He’s familiar with the habit- did you forget you told him that was the way people caught your untruths?

“No, I’m not. How dare you-”

“For God’s sake, Y/N, the book you’re holding is a manual by Carl Jung.” Your eyes quickly dart to the book, cheeks burning with shame. Even then, Jaemin’s tone isn’t accusatory, just truthful.

“If this is because of the university-”

“I heard your conversation with the Provost, Jaemin. Every single part of it,” you confess, your voice getting increasingly shaky as you lose your grip on your composure.

“You’re my co-researcher, Y/N, I told him that,” Jaemin continues, and you wipe a hand across your face absentmindedly.

“I don’t want to be a burden to your career, Jaemin. We both know you deserve the funding. Just remove my name,” you breathe out, and Jaemin immediately shakes his head. He finally realises why you’ve disappeared these two weeks.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice is insistent, and even though your eyes are still tear-stained, you listen to him.

“Do you know what I told Mr Lee?” You shake your head.

“I told him that you were indispensable to my research. That none of it would have been done without you, and I would rather abandon the entire thing than not credit you,” Jaemin says, and you exhale sharply. “I told him that you were smarter than some of my best students, that it was the university’s loss for not letting you in.”

You don’t dare to believe what Jaemin’s saying, especially after each moment of the past two weeks. Your eyes inspect his face for a hint of dishonesty. And yet, Jaemin’s expression remains completely honest, his eyes calm and trusting as they look at you. It makes you want to place your faith in him, that maybe this will be enough.

“And what-what did Mr Lee say?” You’re trembling and nervous, but it feels good, almost.

A knowing smile makes it’s way onto Jaemin’s face, and his eyes fill with something else. Fondness, you realise. And barely-concealed excitement. “He said he would review your application again, and allow me to endorse it with the admissions department.”

You realise Jaemin is talking about your application to become a student, and you’re filled with pure, unfiltered joy as you look at him and realise that what he’s saying is true. That after four years of doubt and confusion, it just might be possible.

Jaemin seems to sense the thoughts running through your mind, and his smile only gets brighter.

“So, will you come back to the office now? The edits aren’t going to revise themselves, and I need a better brain to help me with them.”

You immediately let out a small laugh. “I feel a little foolish now,” you confess. “It seems like a lot of it was overthinking.”

Jaemin’s eyes soften imperceptibly. “It wasn’t foolish at all, Y/N.” Jaemin’s presence is comforting, you realise, and the lack of his companionship has been made all the more obvious by your deliberate distancing.

Having him here, with everything worked out, makes it feel as if your life is no longer off-kilter.

When you burst into Jaemin’s office two weeks later, you’re smiling from ear to ear. He looks up at your abrupt arrival, immediately standing up when you stride over to his desk, acceptance letter in hand. “I’m a student starting next week,” you exclaim excitedly, and Jaemin has never seen you this cheerful before.

Truthfully, the admissions board had already informed him that you would be accepted- after all, he was one of the people that had to review your application. Even then, Jaemin tries to look surprised, a cheerful expression on his face. It isn’t difficult, considering how contagious your joy is.

“I have to go off now, but I just- really wanted to share it with you. For being the one to make it happen,” you say softly.

“You did this by yourself, Y/N. I helped because you deserved it.” Jaemin watches as you take in his words, as your smile softens into something more gentle, more tranquil. It’s an expression that he rarely sees on you, and it feels precious.

When you turn to leave, Jaemin’s filled with a strange emotion. It’s almost like a sense of longing as he watches you disappear out the door. Even though he’s sure that the both of you are now close friends, and he’ll see you on campus regularly, the fact that the both of you will no longer have your weekly meetings feels disappointing, somehow.

The feeling lingers with him even at dinner, until even Donghyuck notices. “You’ve been down all day. What’s on your mind?” Renjun looks up from his food expectantly, and Jaemin runs a hand through his hair. It’s made even more suspicious by the way he is unable to muster an appetite. Both Renjun and Donghyuck had cast him suspicious glances when he had only ordered a bowl of soup.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?”

“You know he’s in the military. Don’t try to change the topic,” Renjun points out, and Jaemin sighs.

“It’s just that the research project with Y/N is over, and-”

“You want to continue seeing her, but you’re not sure how? You feel strange without having her presence around you?” Donghyuck says, and Jaemin blinks at him. Once. Twice. Donghyuck’s right on the spot. Uncomfortably so.

“Well, yes. I guess so,” Jaemin mutters, and Renjun conceals his laugh with a sip of his drink. “See, Renjun. I told you. I’m always right,” Donghyuck says snarkily, and Renjun rolls his eyes. “Want me to remind you of what happened at the party last week?”

“What happened last week?” Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck shakes his head vehemently. “Nothing. Anyways, this is about you. How do you feel about Y/N, Jaemin?” Jaemin doesn’t like the way Donghyuck’s looking at him, as if he knows something he doesn’t.

“I can’t place my finger on it, but something like admiration? She’s capable, more so than me. Intelligent, but she’s able to make the other students laugh easily with her comments. Detailed, especially when she’s checking things,” he immediately responds without a second thought, and Renjun looks at him properly now, mirth in his eyes. “You and Donghyuck are much more similar than I expected.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Renjun is just being annoying. What he’s saying is that you like her.”

“I like Y/N plenty. She’s a good colleague. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be working together for over a year.” Donghyuck makes a noise of disbelief at Jaemin’s words, and casts an incredulous glance at Renjun, who simply shrugs. “Don’t make that face at me, Donghyuck. You’re even worse. You made her cry, remember?”

Donghyuck falls silent at that, miffed. Jaemin turns to Renjun for clarification, and the boy looks exasperated, almost as if he’s not sure why he’s the one has to manage the both of them.

“I’m not sure if you’ve realised, Jaemin, but you’ve changed a little the past year. You’ve stopped locking yourself in the office as much, and you seem happier. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seems like it’s because of Y/N. And for you to have these sorts of emotions…I don’t think it’s just friendship you’re looking for,” Renjun clarifies.

Donghyuck mutters a ‘finally’ under his breath, but Jaemin barely catches it, stuck in his own thoughts. He thinks about each time you’ve dragged him out to meet the others, until he started doing it of his own volition. About how Renjun, Jeno and Haechan showed up at his office more often, and he no longer wanted to chase them out.

And then he thinks about what Renjun’s implying. That he might have feelings for you, feelings that extend beyond friendship. He finds himself not scared off by the thought, but instead, it fills him with an unfamiliar sort of hope.

The thought of a relationship was an alien concept to him. If it had been mentioned to him a year ago, he would have shrugged it off in moments. Of course, he had people express their interest, sometimes not so subtly. He was decently attractive, after all, and had a good family. But a relationship had never been in the cards for him.

However, you made him want to imagine the possibilities. That when it came to you, he wouldn’t mind being something more, beyond just colleagues and friends. Partners, in every sense of the word. It explains the strange nervousness that overtakes him each time you look at him, or ask him a question. It explains the peace that flooded him that night in the office, when he divulged secrets he had never been willing to tell anyone, all because he trusted you inexplicably.

“I wonder how you’re even a Psychology professor, when you can’t even recognize your feelings from a mile away,” Donghyuck teases, and Jaemin allows a small smile to make its way on his face.

He knows now, and that’s all that matters. The only thing left is to figure out what to do with the weight of his newfound realization, and Jaemin hopes you won’t muddle his mind even more than you already have.

There’s a frenetic energy in the lecture hall this morning, one that you can’t help but get caught up in as well. Jaemin seems to be pacing around more than usual, his words coming out at a faster pace as he scribbles on the chalkboard and everyone tries to catch up. It’s definitely not something serious enough to warrant concern, but you wonder if there’s something on his mind the past week.

His schedule has been full with meetings held by the department, and yours with the coursework required of a university student, especially since you started slightly later in the semester. It’s left you to only be able to see him during lectures, often a friendly smile as you come in and take your seat before he begins teaching.

Distracted, you press your pen nib down a little too hard, a feeling of dread coming a little too late once you hear the sound of it snapping. Ink blots out over your paper, and you curse under your breath, frantically scooping the rest of the papers away. Ruined notes aside, you won’t be able to remember the rest of the lecture in detail later. You’re worrying your lip, when a hand extends in your vision.

“Here. I have an additional one for emergencies,” the voice next to you is low enough to not be heard by the rest of the students, and you turn your head to see a man who looks slightly younger than you, round glasses perched on his face. “Thank you,” you whisper back, fingers brushing over the smooth black lacquer. It’s a much better pen than whatever you’re using, and you suppose you should consider investing in better stationery.

“The name’s Hendery, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” His tone of voice is surprisingly casual, and it takes a while for the name to land. Hendery. You recall that he’s the student Jaemin mentioned, the one who submitted a lacklustre essay that was out-of-the-norm. He’s one of Jaemin’s favourite students, and you suppose you can understand why. His notes are in a neat script, books arranged neatly and his suit perfectly ironed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply, and he grins affably, just enough to catch you off-guard. Most of the male students here choose to ignore you, or have awkward grimaces when you nod your head in greeting. It’s rather refreshing.

“Professor Na showed us one of your essays once in class. I’ve never gotten the chance to tell you how much I enjoyed it, and I referenced it in one of my assignments. You can have the pen. I wanted to return the favor,” he adds, and you pause for a while, before smiling back at him and returning to your notes.

“Hendery. What was the main research method of Structuralism?” Jaemin’s voice rings out suddenly, and you dart your head down, attempting to look occupied. It’s not the most honourable thing to do, but you rather not be on the receiving end of failing to answer Jaemin’s questions.

“Experimental studies, Professor?”

“Introspection. That’s what differs it from other schools of thought. Do take better focus next time.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

You feel bad for Hendery. The boy only wanted to extend a helping hand. Still, you know he’s in Jaemin’s good books, and from the way he waves to you, smiling, as he leaves the lecture hall, allows your shoulders to sink in relief.

You’ve made a new friend of sorts. It feels nice, even though you’re used to remaining alone while on campus. Today, however, your schedule is noticeably free, both Ningning and Karina out of the country for business trips. This leaves you to rush down the staircase, attempting to chase after Jaemin before he gets swept up by another meeting.

You call out his name, and the man in question turns around sharply, causing you to skid to a stop and narrowly avoid crashing into him. “Whoa, careful there,” he mutters, and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Did you need me for something?” There’s an unreadable expression on Jaemin’s face. One that you can’t exactly decipher, and you respond with a shaky grin. “No. I just wanted to see you.” The words escape too fast for you to process their weight, leaving your cheeks to redden slightly.

It’s oddly honest, and from his sharp inhale, you’re not sure if you’ve been too forward, despite the nature of your relationship.

“How has work been?”

“Good. Busy,” his voice is terse, reminiscent of the tone that he uses with students, and it causes you to frown slightly. “Will you be going to Haechan’s party this weekend?” Infuriatingly, Jaemin only shakes his head, and you’re left trailing after his footsteps, wondering if you’ve done something wrong.

The walk to his office feels shorter than you remember, and you wonder if it’s because you haven’t been here in too long. The man in front of you still remains frustratingly silent, causing your thoughts to swirl in worry.

“Jaemin. We’re still partners. Talk to me,” you bite out, and he looks up at you, wide eyes no different from that of a deer caught in headlights. He nibbles nervously at his lip, and your eyes inevitably drift down at the motion, before you step closer to him.

“Look, if I did something wrong-”

“You did nothing, Y/N. Believe me when I say that,” his voice is audible, even as it cuts you off abruptly. It’s the longest sentence you’ve heard from Jaemin all day, and you try not to let out a sigh. “Then what is it?”

You’re genuinely worried now, eyes never leaving Jaemin’s figure as he paces across the room, fiddling with his fingers slightly. There’s a strange look in his gaze as he refocuses on you, something like a mix of longing and hesitation. It makes your breath catch in your throat, and you’re unable to move from where you’re standing. The both of you are standing directly opposite each other now, and you would laugh if it wasn’t for the situation itself, considering how it’s almost identical to your first meeting with Jaemin.

“I would like to think that I’m a clear-headed person, Y/N, but I think I may be going a little mad.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the strangeness of Jaemin’s words, unable to decipher their meaning.

“I felt…jealous. When I saw you with Hendery. I know very well it’s ridiculous. But it seems the green-eyed monster doesn’t seem to pick targets.”

You’re bewildered at this point, understanding Jaemin’s words well enough and yet unable to grasp any coherent meaning to them. You’re not sure if you can believe what you’re hearing. If you’re hearing it right, or tunnel vision is causing you to interpret Jaemin’s words in an entirely different light.

“You were jealous of…?” Your voice trails off into silence, a question dripping with anticipation as you look at Jaemin, the room heavy with tension. You think your hands might be shaking, but you can’t be bothered to check.

“Jealous of him. I know you’re your own person, and you’re entirely free to be with and love who you want. But seeing you smile at him makes my heart seize in this terrible way like some sort of lovesick fool, and I’m not sure if I can go on like this without telling you.”

There’s a stricken expression on your face at Jaemin’s barely coherent confession, and he runs a hand roughly through his hair, truly panicking now.

“What I’m saying, Y/N, is that I think I may be in love with you. No. I know it. And it makes me a nervous wreck around you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

Jaemin barely gets the words out before you’re crossing the distance in two quick strides and standing right in front of him. It makes his breath hitch and his heart palpitate wildly, even as you lean imperceptibly closer. The way your simple actions affect him is barely understandable to Jaemin, and he’s not sure if there’s anything in his knowledge to explain it.

Yet, Renjun had put it forth so simply for him, as if the answer was plain as day.

Love. It was love that made Jaemin miss your presence, that made him think of you daily and cause a lump to form in his throat at seeing you and Hendery. It was love that made Jaemin want to hold on tightly and never let go, to follow you to parties and wherever else you asked him to.

“Are you…about to reject me?” He asks nervously, and you feel your gaze soften as you look at Jaemin. Your colleague, your equal match, your friend, your partner. In everything.

And that’s how Jaemin receives his answer. It’s you grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards your height before planting your lips on his firmly, hands eventually winding around his neck. It’s a few seconds before he seems to realize it, but when he does, Jaemin’s quick to return the favour, holding your waist securely to close the distance between the both of you as much as he can.

The way Jaemin moves his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, but craving for more. He’s passionate, so different from the usual, calm side that he presents. Even then, the way he holds you to him is gentle, as if you’re made of precious glass.

Jaemin kisses you like he’s been waiting to do so forever, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, even as you finally pull away for some much-needed air. You feel faint when he leans his forehead against yours, noses bumping slightly and causing you to let out a soft chuckle. From this close, you can smell his cologne, a clean scent that reminds you of clean laundry and spun cotton.

You blink slowly before opening your eyes, and it causes him to smile, doe-brown eyes crinkling faintly.

“I suppose that was a yes?” He asks, tone successfully returned to playful, and you pull back to look at him incredulously.  “Of course it was a yes. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A person who has my heart in the palm of her hand. It’s a dangerous position to be in.” The straightforward confession sends blood rushing up your cheeks, forcing you to look down, away from his piercing gaze.

“Jaemin. I-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what you want to say to the man before you. You’re not sure what you would do without Jaemin, but you do know there’s a lot more that you wish to do with him. “Love wasn’t in the cards for me at all. You and I both know that. But I’m glad that I have this. That I have you.”

There’s a look of quiet happiness on Jaemin’s face when he tilts your chin up to look at him, a gentle slant of his lips that lights up his features. He doesn’t need to say anything more, not when there’s so much that has passed between the both of you.

Jaemin’s scared, of course. That one day your memories or his might bleed out like quicksand, leaving the both of you strangers. But if he doesn’t take the chance, he’ll never be able to recall the feeling of having you by his side, and the idea of that is much more terrifying.

He will love you more than he will remember you, and it will be enough.

[starlightsuffered]

Soft With Benefits

Info - soft Dom, nursing hand job, baby talk, ball patting, friends with benefits, praise kink, admission of love, lactating reader, curvy reader, reader with big boobs, kissing cock, calling boy puppy

“Mommy I’m so horny,” these were the first words I heard when I picked up my phone.

“Oh baby, are those sacs all full?” I cooed.

“Yes mommy, too full. I want mommy to help me get my stickies out,” he said poutily.

“Okay, can I come over and help you?” I asked.

“I can drive if you want,” he offered.

“No baby, it’ll be hard for you to walk with your big stiff thingy. Aren’t you too drippy to focus I don’t want you to crash,” I said gently.

“Yes mommy I’m all drippy and sticky,” he said.

“Alright honey, let mommy come over and get all the stickies out,” I said. We said goodbye and hung up. I drove to his house. I adored my friend with benefits. I would spend every day with him if I could. I loved being his mommy Dom, he was so incredibly sexy.

“Mommy!” He cheered when he opened the door. There was a tent in his pants.

“Oh baby, so hard,” I said sweetly. He bit his lip and nodded.

“I want to nurse, I want suckies and milkies in my tummy,” he whined.

“Okay baby,” I said gently. I led him over to the couch. I took lactation inducing pills for him. I took off my top and bra.

“Mommy, your suckies are so beautiful,” he said dreamily. He was very fond of my large breasts and curves.

“Come here puppy,” I begged. He darted to me and struggled to wrestle off his boxers and pants. He whined impatiently as he tried to get his hard penis out.

“Oh look at that pretty pink cock,” I cooed. I moved forward and kissed his tip and he sighed submissively. My lips were salty with precum.

“Come let me cradle you baby, mommy is here,” I said softly. He whined and dove into my arms. I cradled his head. I kissed his forehead and he squirmed.

“Baby, come on, on mommy’s nipple. I want that little tummy full,” I said.

“I want that,” he nodded pitifully. He latched onto my nipple and began to breastfeed. He was noisily sucking.

“Oh baby boy. You look so pretty with suckies in your mouth,” I crooned and grasped his cock.

“Mmmm mommy,” he said, his voice muffled by my breast.

“Yes, mommy is here,” I agreed as I pumped his cock. He needily fucked into my hand as he kneaded my breast.

“Get milkies in your tummy baby. Mommy will take care of your big thingy,” I said. I could hear the wet sounds of his cock.

“You make mommy’s pussy feel so good pretty boy,” I told him. I played with his hair.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy,” he chanted. “I love suckies. I love having a mommy.”

“Yeah baby? You like being my good boy? Small and weak, just needs to be babied?” I asked him.

“Mmmhhmmm,” he whined. He looked so beautiful suckling, trails of milk trickling down his chin. He was such a desperate subby boy for milk.

“Such a good boy for mommy, so smart, and brave, and obedient, and funny. Mommy’s perfect little boy,” I cooed. I kissed his forehead again and he whimpered.

“Are your cummies building baby?” I asked.

“Yes mommy,” he squirmed.

“Just relax. Focus on mommy’s curves and mommy’s voice, and suckies and milk,” I instructed. I took my hand off his cock. I lightly patted his swollen balls and he was letting out pathetic high pitched noises.

“Mommy, mommy, mmmmmm, so good, so wet and drippy. My sacs are so full for you,” he cried out.

“They’re so full aren’t they angel?” I asked as I patted them gently.

“Yes mommy, they’re so full,” he gulped.

“You need to make cummies don’t you?” I asked and took his cock in my hand again.

“Yes mommy,” he said and buried his face back into my breast.

“Who is the best boy in all of New York?” I asked him.

“Me,” he lisped.

“M-Mommy, I’m gonna make cummies!” He squealed.

“Make cummies for mommy, you can do it,” I encouraged him.

“Oh mommy!” He cried as cum exploded from his cock. His ropes covered my hand as he humped my fist and moaned.

“Such a good boy, mommy is so proud of you for making stickies,” I smiled as he panted.

“Oh mommy, mommy I love you,” he said dazedly. My head whipped around to look at him. His eyes widened as he realised what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He lifted his hands to cover his face. I yanked them down not caring that I got cum on him.

“Was that sub space or do you mean it?” I asked. He struggled up and out of my arms.

“Well, I know this is just friends with benefits for you, but, but, yes. I’m in love with you. I wish I was actually yours,” he confessed.

“Timmy,” I beamed.

“What?” He asked cagily.

“I love you too. Of course this isn’t just sex for me,” I exclaimed.

“Really!” He asked excitedly.

“Yes!”

“Oh this is amazing,” he grinned. I pulled him to me for a deep kiss. Our first of many as a couple.

[skania]

Let's talk about Aqua "using" Akane

So Aqua makes a very big deal about "using" Akane, but... did he actually use her at all?

I mean, he makes it quite clear that he is only keeping her close because she's useful, right?

So, what is Akane useful for, exactly?

Aqua's entire premise is that Akane understands Ai better than he does. He can't lose Akane because she may help him figure out Ai and find out who his dad is.

But we never, ever see Aqua asking Akane questions about Ai. At the contrary, most of his time with Akane is spent either on Aqua and Akane helping each other, or on Aqua talking to Akane about himself rather than about Ai.

(Spoilers for the entire manga below the cut!)

Let's take the TB arc for example, since this is the arc where Aqua and Akane interact again. What do we see?

First, Aqua helps Akane voice her concerns about the script:

Then he helps solve the disconnect between the ones in charge of the script and the original author, thus doing Akane and everyone involved a big service:

Then he helps Akane win against Kana, going as far as to agree to do emotional acting in order to accomplish it:

And then he helps Akane draw Kana out into the spotlight:

In other words: Aqua spends the entire arc working as a team with Akane. He makes no effort to use her at all.

What's more, all the occasions he had to get Akane's insight about Ai? He uses them to give Akane insight about himself instead.

Which is ironic, because we eventually find out that he even went as far as planting a GPS on her sometime after Love Now, in the off-chance Akane came in contact with the culprit. He obviously was pretty serious about making the most of Akane's deduction skills...

... but how was Akane supposed to deduce anything when Aqua never gave her any info? After all, Aqua only shares that information with Akane after he thinks his revenge is over and he has no use for her anymore.

Which means that, up to the point where Aqua temporarily drops his revenge plans, we don't actually see him using Akane at all.

Despite this, we still see Aqua going on and on about how he has "used" Akane.

So, let's take a closer look at all the ways he has "used" Akane, shall we?

• "About my father" is the simplest one, since that's what Aqua wanted to use Akane for in the first place. Except that, as we saw, things don't go quite as planned and he literally doesn't do anything to have Akane find his dad.

So yes, Aqua did intend to use Akane to find his dad, but he doesn't actually put her to use. In fact, Akane finds him all on her own by pure chance much, much later.

• "The corpse" is a very interesting one, because by Aqua's own admission, he trusted Akane's capabilities enough to think she may be able to find his corpse, and fed her information to help her achieve this.

This is indeed true, except for two things. One, when Aqua starts looking for the corpse, he actually tells Akane to stay behind. She's the one that chooses to follow after him. Aqua makes it sound like Akane finding his corpse was his goal from the get-go, but his actions are at odd with his words.

Secondly, Aqua stops looking for the corpse the moment Akane suggests it may be buried, but he still takes her to Goro's house either way.

Nothing he tells her about Goro is relevant to the search of his corpse. It's completely irrelevant, in fact. But Aqua still opens up to her, sharing everything about Goro, from his upbringing to his goals to his feelings.

Once again, his words say one thing, but his actions tell a different story. Akane is the first person Aqua has opened up to about Goro, and he does so without any ulterior motive.

Which leads me to the way Aqua has "used" Akane:

• "And many other things."

This is what Aqua means by "many other things". Ever since that day, Akane has been giving Aqua emotional support and he has come to treasure it, so much so that it "saves him little by little".

I'd even say he has come to rely on it, as his monologue later shows.

Now, you may say, but isn't receiving and giving emotional support a normal part of every relationship?

And you'd be completely right! But Aqua isn't a normal guy.

Aqua is guilt-ridden to the point he is in pain whenever he enjoys anything. Since the guilt he feels colors basically everything he sees, it permeates his relationship with Akane as well.

Instead of seeing all the good he has done for her, he just sees all the ways he ties her down.

Instead of seeing how much of himself he has shared with her, he focuses on what he has kept from her.

He is such a guilt-ridden, self-deprecating person that he even apologizes when Akane finds his corpse. As if getting murdered and not being found for 20+ years was his fault!

Akane puts it best: Aqua is always trying to carry the burden on his own, always acting like every wrong is his fault.

It's no surprise then that Aqua feels guilty over allowing himself to cherish Akane's support. It's also no surprise that he tries to paint it negatively as him "using" her, because Aqua has been trying to convince himself that his relationship with Akane is a lie.

If he repeats it enough, if he makes his every action about using Akane, then it will be easier for him to let go of her — even when that becomes the last thing he wants to do.

This all comes to a head in Chapter 98, where we see Aqua cutting ties with Akane to keep her safe. This was the perfect time to use Akane, for real this time — but "using" Akane has become a lie that he can't keep up any longer.

Akane has become too important to him. So important in fact, that leaving her side marks the moment he makes a wrong turn and gives himself into the darkness of his revenge.

TL;DR Aqua did want to use Akane, but he never gets around to it. He comes to rely on her emotional support and feels so guilty for it that he sees that as "using" her. Ironically, by the time Akane becomes the perfect "tool" for him to use in his quest for revenge, she matters too much to him and he lets her go to keep her safe. In fact, Akane only makes herself "useful" to him by pure chance! lol

[tomurakii]

I kind of hate all the comparisons between kipperlily and like. Those fuckass "affirmative action fucks me over I wish I was [minority] so it would be easier" people because none of that. Is what she said. She said the bad kids already had more experience with adventuring before they got to augefort and it meant they had an advantage. Which is true. Yeah Riz was lower-class but his mum was a COP. Riz, Kristen and Fig had parents who were heroes (Sandra-Lynn is an active ranger, Kristen's parents are paladins, Sklonda is a rogue), Adaine's family was super rich and politically influential, Fabian had both. Gorgug's the only one who wasn't actively at an advantage [IN THE CONTEXT OF HAVING PRIOR KNOWLEDGE ABOUT HEROISM] and she didn't have shit to say about him. Kipperlily was the first person in her family to try heroism, the bad kids are largely legacy admissions.

Additionally to the people comparing it to the "anti-affirmative action" crowd: do you know what affirmative action is. The bad kids didn't receive special consideration on their admissions to aguefort or scholarships or additional financial support or extended assessment times or anything. How could she be mad about affirmative action if none of these people received affirmative action. What they DID have was knowledge about their classes that started much earlier than high school, which is what Kipperlily said in her file that she thought grading should be adjusted for because she did not have that.

To me it's less like affirmative action and more like augefort is like an IQ test. They pretend that it's fair and objective, but you can be taught how to do those things from a younger age, and if your parents took the time to teach you pattern recognition and shit then you'll do better on an IQ test than someone who wasn't trained for it and everyone will act like that makes you innately smarter when it doesn't. It just means someone taught you how to do that earlier.

Barring Gorgug, every one of the bad kids had access to information about heroism and their class at a younger age than Kipperlily did, which primed them for success in their classes. Every one of them got additional information about mysteries from their families (and even direct battle-tactics training from Bill), Riz especially with getting classified info out of his mum. Kipperlily does not have hero relatives. She's the first in her family line to attend a hero school. She knew nothing about it before her first day, meanwhile Kristen was already the chosen of Helio, Adaine had already been attending the best wizard school in the country, Fabian had already spent his whole life training with his father, and Riz was already involved in solving mysteries using info and tactics he got from his parents.

They aren't necessarily "privileged" (except Fabian and Adaine), but Kipperlily didn't say they were, she said that in the specific context of attending a hero school they had a prior-knowledge advantage. Saying they didn't is like comparing the grades of a kid who's academic career started with preschool with a kid who didn't attend until middle school and acting like one of them wasn't better prepared.