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jakesimfromstatefarm · 7 months ago

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the art & science of parenting 101 ─ p. js

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

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

It's 8:30AM.

You're the only one in the room.

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

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

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

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

Front row.

Try-hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A loud, messy, procrastinating curse…

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

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

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

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

Jay's desk is completely...empty.

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

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

"Y/N and Jay."

Wait. What?

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

You blink. You must have misheard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.

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

You're screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

Jay's screwed.

Like, completely, utterly, hopelessly screwed.

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

It's 12:17PM.

He's late.

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

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

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

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

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

And there you are. Exactly how he imagined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your typical weekly schedule like?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re downright crazy.

"6? As in AM? On purpose?"

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

"Yes, Jay. On purpose."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He likes the coffee fumes theory better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah...no. Nice try."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Jay. I am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yeah, he’s definitely going to try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want a free coffee or not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby, predictably, continues screeching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay's eyes light up at your response.

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

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

Maybe, just maybe, he has a point.

You'd never admit it to him, though.

Not yet.

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

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

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

Today, though. Today is a different beast entirely.

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

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

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

Teamwork, she called it.

You like to call it pure suffering.

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

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

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

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

It's 6PM.

You stare at him, deadpan.

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

Jay snorts as he raises an eyebrow.

"You should see the truck."

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

Well this can't be right.

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

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

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

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

"Y/N? You good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisoo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're changing her, Jay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You expect me to—in this economy—”

“Grab. The. Wipes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly. Parenting at its finest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay raises an eyebrow, "Depends on what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay would like to make a few things clear.

First of all, none of this is his fault.

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

Because, in a way, it does.

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

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

Because, in a way, you do.

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

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

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

Fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes his heart do a weird flip.

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

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

He’s 99% sure he audibly gulps.

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

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

He curses himself. Busy? Really?

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

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

And it’s a little infuriating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not attraction, he reminds himself. Totally not attraction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine, it’s jealousy.

Definitely jealousy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

Annoyingly, also yes.

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

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

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

Yeah, definitely attraction.

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

You're bored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

Great. Now you have a new problem.

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

You've officially lost it.

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

Your train of thought screeches to a halt.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The campus gallery. His photography.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just photography.

It's just Jay.

Nothing to overthink here.

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

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

Slim. Probably. Right?

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

The real delay?

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

Spoiler alert: that outfit does not exist.

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

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

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

It's just a thought.

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

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

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

Abort mission. This was a terrible idea.

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

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

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

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

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

''–talented," you finish lamely.

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh?

OH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for in and out.

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

It's not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to scream into the void.

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

You fumble for words, your brain still offline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jay!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're in so much trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

“Alright. I’ll see you, Y/N.”

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

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

“Y/N.”

You glance back, your heart skipping a beat.

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

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

You blink, caught off guard.

“What?”

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

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

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

Jay nods, his smile widening just a little.

“Good.”

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

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

Y/N [8:52PM]: home safe 👍

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

But, of course, your phone buzzes almost instantly.

Jay [8:53PM]: good 👍 sleep well.

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

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

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

Clearly.

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

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

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

Professor Kim: Final grades are posted!

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

Semester Project Grade: 100%

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you knock.

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

“Oh.”

It’s you.

At his doorstep.

Unannounced.

In his jacket.

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

You tilt your head, studying his expression.

“Jay? Are you…okay?”

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

“Uh. Yeah. Totally. Uh—what’s up?”

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

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

“…I thought you were a robber.”

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

“I don’t know, maybe a polite one!”

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

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

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

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

“Wait—what? We got a hundred?”

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

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

“No way. We actually did it?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay blinks. His brain is once again malfunctioning.

“Oh.”

Oh?

OH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s all the encouragement Jay needs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t mind that idea one bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

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

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lesbianwyllravengard · 1 month ago

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Truly the "I think Wyll would be a paladin/paladin class makes the most sense for Wyll" just shows a fundamental lack of understanding and attention to his character. How do you watch him repeatedly go against Mizora's wishes then be punished for it, how do you hear him tell his heartbreaking story of how Mizora took advantage of his good heart and trapped him in a harmful pact against his will, and think to yourself "surely this man would choose to bind himself to yet another external benefactor who would be responsible for assigning his morals and behaviours". Wyll hates the gods for a similar reason he hates Mizora - they are powerful entities with authority over people, and rather than use it to help or save they use it to control and oppress. And even if he, as a paladin, would get his powers from something that wasn't a god, it would still be someone besides himself dictating his ideals and actions. He's been burned enough by powerful forces doing the same thing, of people with the ability to save others instead taking advantage of him, to ever want to bind himself yet again to a similar fate.

Also, he doesn't need someone else telling him what to do in order to be good. Like there are so many reasons I've seen people misunderstand Wyll as a character enough to say he'd be a paladin but one such misunderstanding seems to be that because he is a Good person he must Need a D&D class that operates on a system of assigned morals. He doesn't need that shit. He has his own morals. He has a beautiful heart on his own. His entire backstory is based on the fact that he's so naturally good and loving that he sacrificed his soul to save others. He didn't need his pact with Mizora to tell him who to kill - he didn't need the pact at all - he was coerced and manipulated into it because he is Already just So Good

#I mean we literally watch him disobey his pact in the game.#If he ever became a paladin he'd break his oath immediately bc he saved someone who was morally ambiguous or bc he killed a tyrant #Or some shit #God don't piss me off w this #Wyll Ravengard

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unsolicited-opinions · 27 days ago

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The Revolution Will Not Be Aestheticized

Being Gen X is weird. Mine will be the last generation to remember a world without the internet and was also the first to wholly embrace it.

Gen X knows what life was like before social media...but has still mastered the art of passive-aggressively liking posts as a form of communication.

We're a small generation, but I'd argue we have a unique perspective and I want to point out something which I think is more obvious, more visible to Gen X, than it is to Millennials and Gen Z.:

Enjoying pop culture used to be something you did. Now, it helps define who you are.

I was obsessed, as a kid, with Marvel comics, Dr. Who, and Babylon 5. Friends had weekly get-togethers to watch the X-Files or The Simpsons. Liking pop culture wasn't unusual. You could like it passionately, obsessively even.

But it wasn’t your identity.

If you outgrew an interest, it didn’t seem like a personal transformation to you or to your friends. It was just...what you're really interested in right now. The stakes were low.

Today, it seems like your fandom is often your flag. It’s in your bio next to your gender identity, orientation and neurotype. (A couple of those are in mine, too).

I'm trying to say that there is a very real difference between being really into the music of Taylor Swift and being a Swiftie.

There's still plenty of discussionabout what we love, but now it helps defines who we are.

I might be a Little Monster and in the BTS Army, right? And a Whovian Cumberbitch. These are signifiers not of interest, but of identity.

That shift from consumption to identity may seem subtle, but it has profound consequences.

It turns preferences into moral positions.

If your fandom defines who you are, any critique of it feels like a critique of you. And if your fandom’s antagonist gets a redemption arc which displeases you? That’s not character growth, that’s betrayal. (You've seen people behave this way in fandoms. It's a parasocial relationship with fictional characters.)

Now take that operating system - tribal, emotional, morally binary - and plug it into political activism. What do you get?

You get the US "Pro-Palestinian" movement circa 2024-25.

To be clear: Gaza is a humanitarian catastrophe. Palestinians deserve dignity, safety, and justice.

Critiquing how Americans engage with this issue is not a dismissal of its urgency. It’s just asking whether our engagement is real...or if it is performative roleplay and treated like a fandom.

(Below: This fanart would be just as absurd if Snape was holding an Israeli flag.)

Because much of what’s happening on social media and college campuses doesn’t look like activism. It looks like fandom.

And not in a metaphorical sense. I mean literally.

Moral binarism:

Palestinians are coded as pure underdog heroes. Israelis are assigned the role of irredeemable villains. There's no space for Israeli trauma, Palestinian complexity, or the millions caught in-between. Just like fandom, nuance gets in the way of the story.

Costumes and catchphrases:

Keffiyehs are worn like people used to wear Hogwarts House scarves.

Slogans like "from the river to the sea" function not as political demands as much as they are ritual, social affirmations.

You chant them because they’re what you say to stay in good standing.

Canon enforcement:

Say the wrong thing (acknowledge Hamas's atrocities, quote an Israeli peace activist...) and you’re cast as a villain. Activist spaces now police ideological purity the same way fandoms used to (still do?) flame you for liking the wrong ship.

Emotional scripting:

TikToks from Gaza with moody filters and sad piano music mimic fan edits and commenters post, "I’m crying, I’m shaking," because that’s the expected affect. It's parasocial politics. And it's all about showing their feelings.

Lore and side quests:

Protestors debate which historical analogies are "correct" based on what's most satisfying. The create infographics that function like lore wikis, and design protest aesthetics with merch-tier detail. Some organizers even "brand" their encampments like pop-up installations.

Want a kiffiyeh with which to display your ideological alignment? Guy Christensen sells them through a link in his bio.

This is fandom logic in political form: it's identity-driven, emotionally performative, virality-optimized, branded and monetized.

The problem is that Fandom has no endgame. Fandom is forever. There’s no "solving" Game of Thrones - you just keep angrily resenting that awful final season.

Politics needs resolution. If you apply the fandom model to real-world conflict, peace becomes anticlimactic. Moral ambiguity feels like betrayal. Ceasefires don’t trend on social media.

Look at how the "pro-Palestinian" movement won't condemn Hamas regardless of the people of Gaza marching en masse to demand Hamas leave Gaza.

When the identity matters more than the cause, the cause becomes a backdrop.

Such "activists" center their feelings of righteousness rather than centering the lives at stake.

Performative grief displaces material action.

Sharing content becomes the work.

Listening becomes optional.

Look at how Irish protestors embraced the term “Paddystinian" - blending diasporic solidarity with performative identity. Or consider how Peter Tatchell was arrested at a pro-Palestinian march for opposing both Israel and Hamas - and was immediately denounced online not for being wrong, but for deviating from the script.

This isn’t activism. It’s cosplay with real-world stakes.

Real political work is boring, frustrating, and morally dissonant. It demands strategic thinking, coalition-building, and compromise. It doesn’t fit neatly into a feed, and it rarely makes you feel emotionally whole, but it’s the only thing that changes anything.

If you’ve grown up in fandom, you’re not broken or unserious. You’re just swimming in the water you were raised in.

What they need to ask themselves, though, is: Are we trying to help, or are we trying to feel right?

Because the people on the ground don’t need you to wear your Guy Christensen kiffiyeh and recite the ideologically approved positions you don't understand. They don't need your fan art. They don't need you to harass Jews online.

They need peace, they need dialogue, and they need all of us to stop treating war like content.

#jumblr #israel #Palestine #I/P #fandom #Fandoms

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amateur-flamingo · 5 months ago

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On the day the cosmos opened up, humanity united its forces to protect the Earth. While fearless pilots fight in enemy territory in the vastness of the stars, the guardians of our planet become bigger, better, stronger.

I'm really into @keferon mecha au. I wanted to finish my concept before the New Year, but so much stuff piled up during the holidays that I didn't have time. Nevertheless! I'm happy to share my thoughts on the Stunticon team in this setting >:) I don't claim canonicity, so this could very well be just an au au.

Menasor is a human project on par with other "combiners". They are significantly larger than normal mechs and require much greater resources to both build and pilot. To operate such a colossal robot, several people are needed at once; which is, in fact, unthinkable, given how precisely one must perform actions and navigate within the machine. Eventually, "Mind Melding" was developed, which involves pilots sharing impressions, feelings, and thoughts with each other. To achieve greater efficiency, each member of the team must be in closer relationships, reducing the likelihood of systemic problems occurring during the merge.

Being the second combiner created, Menasor is far from perfect, including because of its pilots. Its components are a team of Stunticons - former road bandits, after the trial sent in a "good direction" for the benefit of all mankind. A choice without a choice, but in the end none of them were against participating in the experiment. Each of them is responsible for a separate part of the robot's body, in fusion they really provide sufficient efficiency to fulfill the assigned mission - fighting the incoming monsters.

I won't hide that I was greatly inspired by the piloting methods in Pacific Rim and Evangelion. For my concept, I use the "drift" system, the merging of the consciousnesses of two pilots; as well as the capsule system for the pilots from Eva, each of which is placed in a separate limb of Menasor. Also! I am absolutely delighted by the existence of the "berserker" form in Evangelion, and, frankly, I can't help but add it here.

The imperfection of combiners lies, among other things, in the imbalance of human minds. At the moment of failure - technical, emotional, any other - there is a possibility of awakening the personality of the mech. When the consciousnesses of the pilots merge, leaving no room for each one separately - a berserker appears, acting on his instincts alone. The components stop responding to requests, and the only way to stop the combiner is either running out of energy or fighting him.

Menasor was the first combiner with a recorded case of mind fusion. Due to some fragmentation of the Stunticons, as well as their psychological problems, the mecha went out of control and stopped communicating with the control center. More animalistic behavior during the battle with the alien, and then the destruction of more than a third of the abandoned city before the batteries died, forced the responsible persons to temporarily stop using Menasor in missions until the circumstances were clarified. The Stunticons were subsequently sent for a second medical examination, each assigned a personal specialist, and the same was done with the members of the other teams.

Nevertheless, everyone appreciated the effectiveness of destroying the enemy in the form of a berserker. The risk, to some extent, was worth it, so the program was not terminated, soon returning the combiners to duty.

Probably, if the concept eventually works out, I'll also make full-fledged designs for the Stunticons x) I already have an idea, I just need to put in more effort for it.

#tf mecha universe #transformers #maccadam #stunticons #menasor #mecha art

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lincolndjarin · 2 months ago

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hollow star ⊹₊⟡⋆ ch. one

chapter one : when flesh meets steal

ao3 kofi main masterlist (series masterlist coming soon )

pairing: din djarin x scientist!reader

rating: 18+ mdni - check chapter tags for cws

word count : 6.1k

summary: Din agrees to help you when he's sees the credits you're offering in exchange for protection, after all, it's a simple mission. Artifact retrieval and data collection.

That's what you told him.

And why wouldn't he believe you?

tags: strangers to lovers, horror, non-consensual voyeurism, slowburn, psycological horror, fear

70,000 CREDITS - PRIVATE ESCORT DETAIL : FREELANCE OPERATIVES ONLY

SERVICE TYPE: Discreet Escort / Protection Detail

DURATION: 2 weeks (approximately)

LOCATION: Classified - Outer Rim, unregistered planet (coordinates provided upon meeting)

COMPENSATION: 140,000 credits, 70,000 upfront, and the remainder upon completion of the job. (an additional 10,000 credits will be provided for every day of service required after the initial 2 weeks.)

BONUS: Hazard pay negotiable based on situational escalation.

REQUIREMENTS: Combat experience, (soldier or soldier adjacent is preferable) must be familiar with navigation and willing to travel through hostile terrain. Preferably a ship that does not require a crew and has a solo operator. (negotiable) Must not be affiliated with the New Republic, or any Jedi-aligned factions.

Private client requiring an armed escort for the purpose of a personal research trip. The objective being artifact retrieval and/or data extraction. No combat is anticipated but the client requests protection against potential scavengers or environmental threats. Client will not be armed. No questions asked, no answers expected, discretion is non-negotiable.

There’s several blocked lines of text at the bottom of his monitor, encrypted information about the client that makes him furrow his brow. The black screen flickers a bit, his thoughts accompanied by the quiet hum of the space that surrounds the Razor Crest. 140,000 credits is nothing to scoff at, it’s the type of payment he’d expect on a high risk job, or something far more sinister than this. That kind of money is often offered up for jobs that most people wouldn’t choose because of its morality. Hit’s put out on children, or the defenseless. Or at the very least something that would take well over a few months.

Not this, not a simple in and out escort job.

The redacted information is concerning. Too concerning, even with the payout promised. His fingers type into the system for a few moments, trying to push through what he knows to be simple defenses put up by the guild before the screen blinks and the text is easily revealed to him. With a pleased sigh he sits back in his chair and reads.

Client shows signs of previous Imperial affiliation, though not flagged for war crimes. Known history with a classified archives division. Linguist, no combat personnel history. Last known activity listed as an unexplained incident with a vault located at Station Mourna 2. (now sealed.) Was assigned to the Imperial Historical Recovery Taskforce, or I-HRT, division 12. No last known location. No existing warrants or bounties on head.

The Imperial affiliation stands out to him but it reads like they had very little to do with anything more than their history department. Which seems benign enough and would explain the exorbitant fee. They can simply afford it.

But there’s just something off about the listing.

It should be so simple, it’s a clean cut job, a bit clinical, but nothing of the sort would be required of him. It’s the top left corner of the screen that makes him the most hesitant.

36 applications received, 0 accepted.

The client clearly requires someone experienced, it can’t even be seen by anyone without a certain guild clearance level but 0 acceptances out of 36? It’s unheard of, even with the pickiest clients. Anyone who would have applied at this point would have been more than qualified.

Maybe the client is particular about certain things, or maybe they already found someone and forgot to remove the listing. Either way it’s simply too tempting to resist any longer. He needs the money, or at the very least he needs the distance.

He can’t just keep waiting here, burning through fuel, for something that is never going to happen.

He enters his guild code, fingers lingering above the send button before finally clicking it. Rocking back in the pilot's seat he lets his head fall back. Accepting the fact that he won’t be receiving a response before the message has even been fully sent out.

So the immediate chime made by the ship's notification system is more than a shock as he sits back up.

Congratulations! Your application has been accepted! The client will be waiting for you on : CORUSCANT

Attached you will find the message provided by the client, best of luck!

I would like to be retrieved as quickly as possible from the Kaelen Memorial Travel Port. Payment will be exchanged immediately after boarding. Your haste is appreciated.

Dr. Thorne

The response makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He can’t place the sense of dread this all fills him with but unfortunately his mind is made up. A lot of things fill him with dread these days, so he might as well make a little money.

It’s not like he has anything left to lose.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Sleep doesn’t come easy to him.

It never has, but especially not these last few months. Almost always it’s just simple restlessness, a refusal to turn off the hunters instincts and relax. Waking up in a sweat after a dream of just barely snagging a bounty, or finding himself at the end of a blaster being wielded by one of the many nameless faces he’s turned in over the years.

Tonight is different though. Tonight he sinks into sleep slowly, but deeply.

When he wakes up he’s met with a feeling he hasn’t felt in decades.

The wind.

Cold, and sharp against his face as he cautiously gets to his feet. He’s standing in a field of ash, no visible sky above, only more grey and smoke.

He manages to pull himself together enough to realize he’s dreaming but it doesn’t make him any less disoriented. His hands find his face, scratching at the unfamiliar sting of air on his flesh. Looking around and trying to take in his surroundings proves fruitless until something slowly slips through the smoke above him. Swaying back and forth in the breeze until it gingerly lands in his open hands.

A feather.

A dainty, black feather.

When he shifts his gaze upwards to find the source he finally finds something else in the endless expanse of space around him. A star.

Although it’s barely that at all.

Hanging from a mess of wires is a poorly made steel outline of a star, desperately trying to stay together as a few sparks twitch out of the exposed cables within. It tries to flicker, to turn on but all it manages is a pathetic glow from the hollow space within. It isn’t a normal light it emits either, he immediately recognizes it as the same glow made by the darksaber, instinctively he reaches for his hip to find it but only grabs air. Looking down in search of it forcefully makes him drop down a foot into the ash.

Before he can find his footing he sinks again, another jolt down so that he’s up to his knees in ash. Frantically, he tries to hold onto something, anything, but there’s only more grainy ash, he finds no purchase as he sinks, quicker, and quicker, unable to hold on any longer he takes a deep breath, preparing for the punishing lack of oxygen he’s about to be faced with.

And then he wakes up.

Gasping, and clawing at the single sheet that lines the mattress in his bunk.

It’s a tight squeeze when he leverages himself out, falling to his knees in the cargo hold of the ship, wildly ripping his helmet off before the air can properly depressurize, giving himself a sharp pain in his temples. He’s too desperate for air to care about the headache he’s gonna have for the rest of the day.

⊹₊⟡⋆

It’s late.

The port you’ve requested boarding at isn’t one he’s familiar with. Coruscant is a large planet though, and there’s plenty of places in the galaxy that he’s never been to. As he approaches the first thing he notes is how dark it is. The entire planet is lit up, especially from a distance. The mass of cities and the vibrant nightlife keep the planet well lit. Unfortunately for him, it seems you’ve chosen the only dark patch on the entire planet. It isn’t easy to calibrate the landing because of the lack of light, he can’t see anything clearly but it appears to be completely empty so he picks a random spot and prepares himself.

The ship hovers above the crumbling refueling station, slowly descending before landing with a hiss of air. For the price attached to the job he certainly wasn’t expecting to dock in such a shitty spot. Unsure of what to expect he makes his way to the loading dock and lowers the ramp, before it even reaches the stone pathway a pair of boots land on the edge.

Instinctively his hand twitches to his blaster as he assesses the figure.

Alone, cloaked, and calm. Before him stands who he is certain must be his client. He was expecting a stony faced doctor, someone older, someone that looked like they’d spent plenty of time out in the field.

Which is why he’s taken aback by the sight of you.

Doe-eyed, looking out of place in the dark robes that adorn your body, the only out of place thing about you is the small pale scar along your jaw. In one swift motion you drag a large suitcase up onto the platform behind you.

“Worn, but efficient.” Are the first words out of your mouth as you take in the sights of the ship, as if he isn’t standing directly in front of you. “I suppose this will do.” Nodding to yourself you finally let your gaze settle in him, a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes adorns your face. “Hello, Mandalorian.” It’s almost posed as a question, you want confirmation that you’re in the right place despite the fact that he’s standing before you in full beskar armour.

He isn’t sure how to respond. The client information section of the listing flashes through his mind as he stares.

Imperial affiliation.

Your outfit surely suggests that but the rest of you screams inexperienced. He hasn’t ever seen someone who looks so unprepared for a field job. And he finds himself experiencing a feeling he’s only ever felt a handful of times in his life.

Surprised.

But you can’t know that.

He’s supposed to be the seasoned bounty hunter who can handle anything thrown his direction. At least that’s what you’re paying for. Convinced his voice will betray him, he only nods at you.

“Good, I’m Dr. Thorne, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Stepping further up onto the ship you hold your hand out towards him. With robotic movements he gives you a quick and firm handshake before immediately withdrawing. Even through his gloves he can feel just how cold you are.

With every passing second he’s regretting this decision more and more.

“I appreciate your punctuality.” You rock slowly, back and forth on your heels as you size him up, making no attempts at being subtle. “And you’re taller than I expected. Not an issue, just something of note.” You force a laugh but he still doesn’t speak. Partly because he isn’t the chatty type but also because he just doesn’t know what to say. Your tone is too clinical, like he’s a patient and you’re his doctor. “And you haven’t interrupted me once, which is… polite, I suppose.” He can’t decide if you’re joking so he continues to nod.

Everything about you is odd, it gives him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This is why he doesn’t usually take escort jobs. They require too much talking, it’s been so long since he’s had someone aboard that wasn’t a bounty he can’t even discern if this is typical conversation. You’re too clinical, too detached from your words, if it weren’t for your constant twitching and unpredictable muscle spasms he’d have thought you were a droid. He has to remind himself that you’re just a person, and he’s met plenty of people, some over twice your size, and never once felt intimidated.

With an indiscernible shiver he shakes off the feeling, after all there is no direct threat here, just discomfort, and he’s more than well equipped to handle a little discomfort.

“Would you mind directing me to my chambers so that I might deposit my belongings before we proceed?” The naivety of your statement makes him scoff, and briefly his walls break down. You’re about to be in for a rude awakening as he tilts his head to the left, the airlock doors open on a small storage compartment. Clearly a space used to store weapons or fuel, that has been cleaned and haphazardly refurbished with a cot, a steel dresser, and a storage trunk.

But you are completely unshaken.

Despite your neatly kept robes and hair pulled back is a strict tie you show no signs of distress at the tiny living space.

“Well this is easy enough.” You grunt a little, dragging your large bag forward, tossing it into the compartment before turning to face him once more, riffling around in your robe pockets and presenting him with a large satchel that jingles with the sound of credits as you hold it out politely towards him.

“You don’t seem up for conversation so I suppose we should just get on with it then.” You click your tongue, softly, it doesn’t seem like you even realized that you did it. “Perhaps I should try speaking your language. My plans are as follows; I would like safe and comfortable transportation to my desired location. When we arrive I would like you to accompany me as I conduct my research. It is nothing of great importance, more of a personal project of mine, I’d like to retrieve an artifact for my personal collection. It isn’t considered particularly valuable by any means, it’s just something significant to the niche of research that I’ve devoted my life to. While I am willing to share more information on it I’d rather not and I’d be willing to bet that you don’t want to hear it anyway so I think it would be for the best to keep it that way. I am not anticipating a need for protection, the site was condemned ages ago, but I find that preparing for the worst case scenario is best. You will accompany me. I will examine the ruins, collect samples and data, and when I’m done, we will board the ship and you will bring me back here.”

Your eyes dart down to the credits and then back up to his visor.

“70,000 credits, as promised upon arrival. With another 70,000 to be transferred electronically automatically at the end of the two week period along with a bonus for your discretion.” The end of your sentence drifts off to a whisper as you wait for him to accept.

You barely breathed during your ramblings and his brain is fighting to process everything at the same speed as your voice.

A moment of eerie silence swallows the space around them, something of significance that he can’t quite place, nor can he discern if you feel it too. A sour taste in his mouth and the feeling of bile rising in his throat, a feeling of being watched, all eyes on him. Waiting for him to make the choice, the right choice.

And as he thinks it over you react with enough tiny tells to finally let him know that you’re just as nervous.

You’re in a constant state of motion, even when you appear to be still, as if there’s something under your skin keeping you going.

But it was foolish of you to even think you could hide from him, he was trained to do this, to read a situation like this with deadly precision, despite how low stakes it might look to an outsider he can feel the weight of the situation, heavy on his chest as his eyes roam the oncoming storm that is you.

The way your jaw ticks, the subtle flex of the muscles in your cheek as you fight the urge to grind your teeth. Your nails chewed down to the quick, and the skin around them red and angry from nervous scratching and picking. The color of your undereyes is just a little too bright, you’re covering up something with makeup, almost certainly dark under eyes. The scar that runs along the bottom of your jaw is barely visible when you’re facing forward but he can tell it’s old, it healed long ago but everytime you look in the mirror you’re reminded of whatever it was that gave it to you. Oddly enough, the culmination of all of this is enough to finally relax him a bit. It’s what finally makes you human in his eyes.

You put on a good show.

At first glance he was entirely convinced that you were this mysterious, calculating Imperial doctor, but he can see through all of that with a closer look. You’re a survivor. You’re scared of whatever mission it is that you’re about to embark on, but you’re not the threat you try to discreetly present yourself as.

“Trust is expensive out here.” The stare of wide eyed innocence you give him makes up his mind as he holds his own hand out and accepts the credits. You visibly exhale when he does. “I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.”

The nod he gives you provides no promises, you’d be stupid to think that he trusts you, but at the very least you’re putting some trust in him.

And that’s enough to make him speak his first words to you. The question that’s been on his mind since he saw your listing.

“Where are we going?” He can immediately tell that how ragged his voice is from disuse is startling. He can’t seem to recall the last time he had to speak.

Politely, and anticipating this question you reach into your robes once more before producing a small slip of paper with coordinates neatly written on them.

“I don’t know the name of the planet, it’s old and I haven’t been able to find many records of an official title.” He’s quickly realizing that you speak like you rehearsed this all, it’s an odd, robotic, tone. It makes him want to ask more but he knows that he probably wouldn’t like any answer you gave him, the way you speak unsettles him. Instead of dwelling he tries to map out in his mind how long the trip will be from here to this mystery planet based on the coordinates.

“Should be about two days of travel, is there anything else you need before we leave?” He has rations set aside for the two of you but with the possible end date of this job being ambiguous it’s troubling to think that all you have is one bag. “I have enough rations stored away for four weeks worth of travel, with four days total in round trip travel time I’d advise you to make sure you’re properly equipped.” You aren’t looking at him anymore, instead your eyes wander and begin to study the ship around you.

“I have everything we’ll need.” He watches as your temperature rises, just a degree or two, wondering if it’s your nerves that are causing this reaction. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

There’s no reason to draw this out any longer than necessary, with his pockets weighed down with his payment he makes a beeline for the bay door panel, with a deafening groan the steel doors slide shut. Ignoring the feeling of your eyes on him he pushes a series of buttons, ensuring a proper seal on the airlock. No going back now.

“Shall I join you in the cockpit? Perhaps I could properly brief you on the mission and we could exchange pleasantries.” You give him a polite smile but he shakes his head. The last thing he wants right now is more conversation with you.

“Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long trip.” He tries to control his tone, attempting a cordial manner of speaking.

He can’t get to the cockpit quickly enough. Careful to lock the hatch behind him he starts to set the course. It’s a fifty hour trip there, fifty hours until the unknown. Setting the ship for an auto pilot trip he leans back in his chair, taking deep breaths until the blinking light on the control panel breaks him out of his silent meditation.

The ship's motion detectors.

He’s never used the security system, he’d had it installed as a sort of baby monitor for the kid but he’d never needed it. He so rarely has anyone on the ship to monitor.

He fiddles with the controls briefly until the monitor to his left hums to life with the grainy image of you, standing alone right where he left you.

As you look around the room, taking your time to note everything around you he finds himself fascinated by the sight of you. Being able to watch you from the outside makes you much more interesting.

When you finally move it isn’t too rushed to your chambers.

Instead you move slowly, drinking in the space. You lift your hand and your robe flows like water around you, and you touch the closest wall. Pacing, circling the room you brush your hand up against everything, not searching or scheming, just feeling. Mapping out the space. You pause in front of one of the many supply lockers crammed in against the interior wiring of the ship, tilting your head as if you’re listening for something. A small, private smile tugging at the corners of your mouth before you move on.

His gloved hands flip through the switches, cycling through the different feeds until you’re back on the screen, stepping lightly into a cargo hold.

You’re so careful. You don’t pry or rummage through his things, instead you just do a lap around the room, fingertips dragging along the seams of the walls that conceal panels, the cold steel of storage crates.

You linger over things like the emergency oxygen masks and the first aid kits, like you’re memorizing their placements. Everything in the room feels your featherlight touch as you slowly trace every edge and curve. He feels like he watches you move from room to room for hours until you finally make your way into your quarters. Instinctively he changes the feed again only to be met with static. A frown forming on his face until he realizes why.

When he’d purchased the ship he had to calibrate the system to his liking, and he’d marked any rooms used as sleeping quarters as private. He didn’t normally have guests on the ship but he wasn’t a creep. His thumb hovers over the manual toggle anyway, and a thought crosses his mind.

He shouldn’t be watching you, you clearly have no ill intentions. It would be wrong to keep watching.

But you’re wearing all those layered robes.

A concealed weapon isn’t just a possibility, it’s smart. And with your intelligence it should be expected.

And of course he hadn’t searched you upon boarding, you’re a paying customer, it would have been rude and might have lost him the job.

He flexes his hand.

Something about you was off, even the listing had been strange. The wise decision here would be to make sure that everything appears typical. His mind argues back and forth with itself as he tries to justify this, eventually his curiosity gets the best of him.

Just until you’re done changing, he tells himself. Just to be sure.

The feed cuts to an unblurred view of your room.

For a moment you just dig through your bag, and his jaw tightens. You pull out a few notebooks and pens, tossing them onto the cot. Your movements are so much more fluid now, without rush, more natural looking than you’d been in front of him.

Standing with your back to the camera your fingers find the ties at your waist, loosening them, the fabric falls off your shoulders. Slowly and methodically you slip off each layer, catching them before they hit the floor, and folding them neatly. It’s a long and arduous process as you go layer by layer until you’ve got a stack on your dresser and you clasp your hands together, finished.

Now revealed is a thin underlayer, a close fitted tunic and pants that end just above your knees. Clothes meant for sleeping, nothing else. Tight enough to make it obvious that you’re concealing nothing.

He tells himself again that this is all just a precaution

His throat feels terribly dry.

He should turn it off. But he can’t.

Reaching up, you undo your hair, arching yourself back in a stretch that makes his entire justification for watching you suddenly feel twisted and dirty.

There are no weapons. Nothing hidden.

Nothing but you.

And then, you froze in place.

Halfway through a groan of relief as you stretch, you turn towards the wall.

Head tilting up until your gaze is facing the camera.

Not just towards it, right at it.

Your eyes are calm, not accusatory, not shocked.

That somehow makes him feel worse. A bead of sweat sliding down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose.

And you tilt your head to the side, just a smidge. Like you’re staring right at him. Like you’re the one observing him.

He cuts the feed.

Turning the monitor off entirely as the cockpit goes silent and he’s staring at his own reflection in the now blank screen. Helmeted, emotionless, guiltless.

He certainly doesn’t feel that way, as shame is starting to set in like cement in his chest.

Leaning back in his chair he exhales slowly.

He certainly isn’t going to sleep soundly tonight.

⊹₊⟡⋆

The familiar scent of the motel room fills your head as you rush back in, slamming the door shut behind you with a panicked breath, scrambling for the lock before relaxing.

It’s a shitty place to stay, with even shittier neighbors. Your research is too important to be kept here, you know that, but you don’t have any other choice. This was and continues to be the cheapest option. Just as you’re setting your bag down your tablet across the room chimes. For the last three months you’ve felt your heart race at the sound of that notification dozens of times, only to immediately be disappointed. Tonight is no different. Your breath quickens immediately, almost to the point of hyperventilation as you dart across the room, kneeling in front of the bed as you type your password into the device.

[ YOU HAVE : 1 NEW APPLICATION - WOULD YOU LIKE TO REVIEW IT? ]

Out of habit you’re tapping the space where the “yes” icon is going to appear before it’s even there. The screen changes to the applicants guild code, but that’s not the information you’re after, your eyes skip over it the redacted information portion, you’ve already put a system in place that reveals it and you desperately search for the one word you’ve been waiting for.

And for the first time since you put out this damn listing, you find it.

Mandalorian

It feels like your heart stops, you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, but this could be the one.

Male, 40 years of age, (estimate) combat capable, well experienced, specialties in location and extraction of bounties, Mandalorian, solo operation.

He fits all the parameters, even if they’re vague. It isn’t a guarantee that he’s the one you’ve been waiting for but you don’t even think about it as you type in your response, signing it with the name you were given during your time serving the Empire.

Dr. Thorne

You hurriedly pack everything you can into your bag before laying down, heart racing, the moment you get a response you’ll be checking out of this hell hole. If the guild member arrives and isn’t the Mandalorian in full silver with a mudhorn signet on his pauldron you’ll just turn around and try again.

…

In the morning you have an estimated arrival time and it’s all finally coming together. You tell yourself over and over again to not get ahead of yourself. It’s more than likely that you’ll be checking back into hotel hell tonight.

There’s nothing left to do at this point but wait. So that’s exactly what you do, you sit by the small window and wait for the sun to set, your eyes locked onto the clock on your tablet. Until finally, a little after ten o’clock there’s another notification chime and you know he’ll be landing soon.

You dress yourself in the only nice clothes you have left, your robes, and travel to what you know to be an abandoned space port. Pulling your cloak more tightly around yourself as the cold settles into your bones. You aren’t standing in the dark for long, soon enough there's a rush of hot air as a ship materializes out of the darkness, landing directly in front of you. You’re absolutely wired at this point. It feels like there’s an electric current running under your skin as a loud hiss fills the quiet air around you and a large ramp lowers itself to the ground and you can see the soft golden light within.

You’re too fired up to wait for it to hit the ground, careful not to lose your balance you hoist yourself up. Taking in the sights of the ship, forcing a smile, preparing yourself for the wave of defeat that will wash over you when you see him.

And then you do.

And he sees you.

And the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders.

Your brain stops working but thankfully your mouth doesn’t, you’re on auto-pilot, introducing yourself, shaking his hand, greeting him.

Him.

Standing before you just as you’d dreamed. In a full suit of silver armour, the signature Mandalorian helmet adorns his head. He’s taller than you thought he’d be, more menacing. You aren’t scared of him though, you couldn’t be. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the mughorn symbol visible from where you’re standing.

You finally manage to shake off the sense of awe and ask him where your chambers are and he scoffs, how odd. He nods to an open room to your left and you drag the bag carrying your entire life over, tossing it in. It’s a palace compared to the types of places you’ve been living in. It’s clean. It’s safe.

He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you yet, that’s fine, he needs to warm up to you. You just need to get him to accept the payment and then there’s no going back. You grab the credits, the precious compensation that’s going to be your salvation and hold it out towards him. When he doesn’t react, panic starts to rise like bile in your throat.

He’s just staring at you.

Suddenly you’re terrified.

Terrified that he’s changed his mind.

Terrified that he’ll want to negotiate for more money, something that you can’t afford.

Terrified that you’ve said something that’s convinced him that this isn’t going to work.

And most of all, you're terrified that he sees right through you.

That he can see this facade you’re putting on solely for his benefit, this image of a weak and helpless girl, desperately in need of help. You’ve worked too hard to look broken, like a damsel in distress, you’ll be damned if this crumbles now.

“Trust is expensive out here.” The words tumble out of you before you can stop them. Stupid! He just needs a little time, if you keep pushing him you risk losing everything before you’ve even begun.

Your heart flutters as he closes his hand around the bag.

Of course he accepted. He’s going to protect you now, you knew he was the one.

“I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.” You give him a much more relaxed smile. Of course he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s perfect. None of this would work if he trusted you immediately. It needs to be slow, gradual, and earned. It needs to be real. And with what likely awaits you at the station you know you will need that trust soon.

You know you shouldn’t push it, you should go to bed now and leave him to his work but you want him to trust you now, you want him to be everything you know he can be.

But he doesn’t want that.

He isn’t ready.

He tells you to get some sleep but you aren’t tired, how can you be expected to sleep at a time like this? You don’t argue though, and you don’t follow him when he retires to the cockpit. You know you likely won’t see him until you land so you familiarize yourself with the ship.

Taking deep breaths to ground yourself.

You can’t remember the last time you felt at ease like you do now.

You’ve spent the last decade in and out of highly hazardous working conditions, and then for a few years after that, you were in and out of the worst hotels in Coruscant. Always running from the thing that just won’t leave you be.

It’s a breath of fresh air to enter your chambers and know that you can sleep soundly tonight.

Careful not to wrinkle your only presentable clothing, you fold it all neatly, setting it aside for the days to follow. You’re ready to get into bed when the hair on the back of your neck stands up mid stretch. The all too familiar feeling of being watched.

That can’t be right, not here, not now.

Nothing should have been able to follow you here, turning and scanning the walls of your room you don’t see any obvious signs of danger.

A patch of discolored paint in the corner catches your eye. It vaguely resembles a shadow and your blood runs cold, ever so slowly you tilt your head, trying to see if it’s a trick of the light. Slowly, the feeling of being surveilled eases. It’s just paint, dark patches of paint.

It’s normal to be nervous. That’s what you tell yourself.

Good things don’t happen to you.

They never have.

You deserve to enjoy this fleeting sense of peace, for however long it lasts.

After messing around with the buttons near the door you manage to turn the lights off. Leaving you in complete and total darkness as you slide under the wool blanket that’s been left on your cot.

You have no control over the smile that creeps across your face as you deeply inhale the air on the ship, allowing yourself to savor it.

Oil, iron, gunpowder, sweat.

With the lights off and your vision completely obscured, your other senses are enhanced. You don’t just smell his sweat, you taste it. The distinct and metallic tang. Him.

A combination of flesh, and leather, and something deeper, something so uniquely him. So familiar.

Something that lit up that sharp and all consuming fire inside you. It started as a quiet hunger but has been growing for days, for weeks, for years.

You feel your pulse quicken and fight to keep your breathing steady. How are you supposed to maintain your composure when you aren’t afraid? When was the last time you didn’t feel a constant underlying sense of dread? Unable to contain yourself any longer, you whisper into the silence of your cabin. The name that you’ve been repeating in your head for ages.

“Din Djarin.”

The name that has lived only in your mind reverberates around the small space, as if the galaxy itself was whispering it to you. You’d never spoken it aloud before now. You’d been saving it for a special occasion, it had taken time to learn it, patience, a deep dive into records, and rumors. It had taken quite some time but it hadn’t been hard. Not for someone who knew where to look, not for someone who was meant to know it, not for you.

You’ve spent nearly a year on his trail, your studies, your life's work, they'd all lead to this moment. To him.

You don’t have to be afraid anymore.

He’s real, he’s here. You can feel his presence here, taste him, smell him, feel him. All of him, as he fills the space, you bury your face in the blanket and deeply inhale. The stress and the panic that have been building in your chest for Maker knows how long, starts to melt away bit by tortuous bit.

You found him.

And he’s going to save you.

a/n : I'm super super rusty so if this is bad let's blame it on that and hope it gets better lol, love y'all and thank you for reading if you made it this far <3

follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #hollow star fic #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #slowish burn #eventual smut #strangers to lovers

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elwenyere · 13 days ago

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Something that's important to me about the relationship between Melshi and Kino is that they're both exercising the tiny amount of free will left to them to try to help others in a system that maximally constrains their ability to care for each other.

For the Melshi we first see in Narkina, a big part of staying free happens in the mind - in learning and communicating the truth, in refusing to take comfort in illusions and instead naming the dehumanizing operations of the system. By offering to Keef/Cassian the narrative of power he's developed ("never look at the numbers"), he's trying to give Cassian a way to hold onto the relative autonomy of clear, uncompromising thinking: they can keep us here as long as they want, but we don't have to believe their lies. By the time we meet him, Melshi already seems very familiar with Kino's reaction to his brand of shop talk (so familiar that I suspect Kino is not the first authority figure who's found Melshi profoundly irritating), and when Kino throws him against the wall, Melshi doesn't resist or fight back, but he does look Kino in the eye. He knows why Kino needs to do this, and as his little rueful shrug to Cassian suggests later, he's easier on Kino's need for self-delusion and displaced frustration than he is on the guards' willful misrepresentations and casual cruelty.

For Kino, moving people toward freedom is a question of organization, discipline, and management. He runs a tight ship because he's trying to get his guys the best deal he can, and he encourages them all to throw their weight into the work they're assigned because he thinks that's the best chance to get his floor through their sentences as efficiently as possible. That goal makes Melshi into a troublemaker (as his remarks threaten to undercut people's faith that good behavior matters), and Kino seems to be in the habit of throwing Melshi around to manage the expression of discontent and muttering on the floor. But of course the bigger threat Melshi poses is to Kino's faith in the system itself, and thus his belief that by maintaining order he's protecting his men - from more frying or from railing it in despair (thus his much more out-of-control response to Melshi's "they set them all free" after a whole floor's been killed for no discernible reason). Kino wants to get out himself, yes, but he also wants to get his guys out, and that's why it's Ulaf's death and the doctor's confession that provides the final push in his radicalization: he has to admit that he's been enforcing the rules of a bad-faith system, and the way he's been trying to get his men home was never going to work.

This is very compelling to me because the progression of the Narkina arc reveals that the structure of antagonism in which we first find Melshi and Kino (with Melshi needing to speak out to feel internally free and Kino needing to keep his men aligned around a shared purpose to feel that he's fulfilling his external responsibilities) is in crucial ways environmental: it's a manifestation of the forced competition and hierarchy imposed by the distribution of power in the prison. Once Kino accepts that he needs a new set of tactics to liberate the floor, and once Melshi steps up to fight for what he likely on some level still thinks is a dream, any lingering animus is quickly set aside for cooperation. Melshi is the one to throw Kino a wrench, and Kino is the one to hand Melshi a blaster. Their different methods and theories of power put them in conflict while they were still operating within a system that tried to foreclose any development of solidarity; but they share an impulse toward freedom and care for others, and Andor suggests that's finally stronger than their personal differences.

I do think if they'd met outside of Narkina, Kino would still find Melshi annoying though.

#andor #kino loy #ruescott melshi #narkina 5

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nvrngl · 2 months ago

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˚ · .˚ ༘ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔

synopsis. of course, you would need to be in outer space to find your soulmate. you probably just wouldn't guess it would be him. quiet, compassionate, understanding, caring. it's beautiful to learn what love is between the quietness of the stars.

pairing. bts ﹢ kim namjoon x engineer!reader ﹢ slow-burn fluff

wordcount. 1.8K

notes. written for someone special. happy birthday, k. 💖✨

you spot him before you realize who he is.

he’s standing at the far end of the prelaunch observation deck, hands in his pockets, head tilted up as the low morning sun glints off the hull of the ship outside. it’s still in its support frame, sleek and massive, humming gently with systems tests. this is your third mission, and you know every inch of that vessel—she’s beautiful, but terrifying. a good machine, and a dangerous one.

but the man in front of you doesn’t look afraid. he looks like he’s watching something sacred.

you study him for a second: tall, broad-shouldered, dressed down in dark slacks and a fitted crew jacket like everyone else. but something about him is off. too graceful. too careful. and that face—you’ve definitely seen that face before.

you open the digital manifest on your tablet. right there, near the top of the list of private passengers:

KIM NAMJOON – CULTURAL INVESTOR / CREATIVE SPONSOR – CATEGORY: FUNDING TIER A

ah. that explains it.

not just a sponsor. the sponsor. one of the quiet backers who made this entire planetary observation project possible. and now, apparently, he’s going with you.

you’re still staring when he turns around.

his gaze lands on you instantly. he doesn’t look surprised—just curious.

“do you know her?” he asks. it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the ship.

you glance past him at the hull. “yeah,” you say. “i helped build her.”

his eyes widen, just slightly. “seriously?”

you nod.

he smiles, and it changes everything. softer. open. “that’s incredible.”

you shrug like it’s no big deal. but your chest is warm.

“i’m namjoon,” he offers, holding out a hand.

“i know,” you say before you can stop yourself.

his smile quirks up at the edge. “oh?”

“not like that,” you rush to explain. “you’re in the manifest. i wasn’t—googling you.”

he laughs. “i wouldn’t blame you if you had. i’m… kind of hard to ignore.”

that makes you pause. not because he’s wrong. but because the way he says it—it’s not cocky. more like he’s aware of the weight he carries. like he’s lived a long time under a spotlight he never asked for.

“well,” you say, gesturing toward the ship, “you’re not the biggest star here.”

he follows your gaze, grins. “true. she’s stealing my thunder.”

you don’t mean to keep talking to him. you really don’t. but somehow, the conversation flows. he asks about your background, not just to be polite but with actual interest. propulsion engineering. systems operations. orbital stabilization. and when you glance up, expecting a blank stare, he’s just nodding, listening.

“you don’t talk like the other guests,” you say quietly after a while.

“they talk too much?”

“they talk like they paid to feel important.”

he looks at you for a long moment. then nods. “i didn’t pay to feel important. i paid to feel small.”

you blink.

“i’ve been… big,” he says softly. “for so long. and i think i forgot what it feels like to be nothing next to the stars.”

you don’t say anything. you don’t need to.

you get it.

you’re not assigned to passenger detail. not directly. but with a support crew this small, your paths cross again before launch—training simulations, pressure drills, safety briefs.

he’s always asking questions. good ones. he wants to know how the oxygen cycles work, what happens if the comms go dark. not in a panicky way. more like a man building a map in his mind. preparing to be quiet in the chaos.

you like that.

launch day.

you’re strapped in sideways, reading out engine vitals from the primary screen. namjoon’s strapped in two rows behind you.

you hear his voice over the com just before ignition.

“hey.”

you glance back.

“don’t let me die up here.”

you smile behind your mask. “don’t give me a reason to.”

he grins.

then the countdown hits zero.

and the world becomes light and fire and ascent.

the ship settles into quiet orbit like an exhale.

you unstrap. stretch. check your station.

when you look up, namjoon is floating a little above his seat, hair fluffy, limbs loose, laughing quietly to himself.

“first time in zero-g?” you ask, pushing over.

“yeah,” he says breathlessly. “it’s… insane.”

you anchor near him, guiding him toward the wall handle. his fingers graze yours as he grabs on.

“how do you even get used to this?” he asks.

“you don’t,” you say. “you just stop fighting it.”

he stares at you.

“that sounds like a metaphor.”

you shrug. “maybe.”

—

you fall into rhythm.

not all at once—just slowly, piece by piece, like systems syncing up after launch. there’s always a strange stillness to space travel once the engines go quiet. you’d call it peaceful, if it weren’t for the constant risk of death.

but namjoon makes it feel different.

he's quiet, most of the time. not withdrawn—just intentional. when he speaks, it's with purpose. and when he doesn’t, he’s listening. really listening. not the polite kind of listening people do when they're waiting for their turn to talk. it’s something deeper. like he absorbs everything you say and tucks it away somewhere safe.

on day eight, you catch him in the rec module, seated cross-legged, reading a thick reference manual on atmospheric stabilization.

“you studying for my job?” you tease, floating over to him with your tablet.

he looks up, smiling sheepishly. “figured it was time i knew what half your acronyms mean.”

“half of them are made up anyway.”

“what, like S.E.F.T.?”

“strictly-engineered-fake-terminology,” you deadpan.

his laughter fills the small space, warm and open. you’re still smiling when you settle into the seat beside him, your shoulder brushing his for just a moment. he doesn’t move away.

“want the short version?” you offer.

he nods.

so you start pointing at the diagrams. explaining the way oxygen scrubs through the filters, how backup valves reroute when the CO₂ levels spike, and what would happen if someone forgot to do their job.

he listens. asks smart questions. furrows his brow in this way that makes a tiny crease form between his eyebrows.

you want to reach out and smooth it with your thumb.

you don’t.

—

by day twelve, he’s always where you are.

not in a clingy way. just… present.

if you’re doing diagnostics in the nav deck, he happens to walk through.

if you’re refitting the safety lockers, he shows up to help unprompted, sleeves rolled up, offering to hold the panel steady.

he isn’t annoying about it either. he never hovers. never flirts. he just makes himself useful.

and when the rest of the passengers start forming their little elite cliques—perfect smiles, perfectly curated zero-g photos—namjoon doesn’t join in. he just drifts next to you, eyes shining as you point out the way europa’s frozen surface glitters like powdered glass under the reflection of jupiter.

“it doesn’t even look real,” he murmurs.

“it is,” you say.

he glances sideways at you.

“you’ve seen so much more than most people already,” you add. “and you’re still impressed.”

“that’s the thing about beauty,” he replies. “the more you know, the more precious it gets.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

so you just… look at him.

and that moment stretches—like gravity’s got you both in its pull.

—

on day sixteen, you’re in the crew galley late.

you’ve been rewiring a misbehaving circuit in the medbay panel and haven’t eaten since morning. there’s barely anything to choose from—sealed rations and watery rehydrated noodles—but it’s better than nothing.

he finds you there, crouched in your oversized hoodie, elbows on the tiny metal counter.

“you always eat alone?” he asks softly, setting down a tray beside yours.

“not always. just when i stink of coolant.”

“i don’t mind.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you could be covered in engine grease and i’d still sit here,” he says, amused. “maybe even more enthusiastically.”

you chuckle despite yourself.

he cracks his noodles open. steam fogs the air. you both sit in silence for a while, just chewing, warm knees bumping gently under the table.

“what’s it like?” you ask quietly. “being you.”

he blinks. “being me?”

you nod. “rich. famous. talked about. loved. hated. everything in between.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just stirs his soup slowly.

“lonely,” he says at last.

your throat tightens.

“people love what i give them,” he continues. “but sometimes i wonder if anyone really knows me. not the stage version. not the brand. just… the guy who likes dusty books and ugly sweaters and being in places like this, where no one expects him to perform.”

you don’t say anything.

you just reach across the tiny table. fingers brushing his.

and he lets them stay.

—

on day twenty-one, he finds you in the viewport corridor.

you’re lying against the cool glass, lights low, watching jupiter pass like a god through the black.

he settles beside you without speaking.

for ten whole minutes, neither of you say a word.

then—

“if the ship failed right now,” he says softly, “would it be quick?”

you turn your head slowly.

“yeah,” you say. “you wouldn’t feel a thing.”

he nods.

“why?” you whisper.

“i think…” he hesitates. “i think part of me came here not just for the stars. but because if something went wrong… no one would be able to say i didn’t go out doing something i loved.”

your heart aches.

he’s not dramatic about it. he doesn’t cry. but there’s a pain behind his voice. one he probably doesn’t let many people hear.

you shift closer. your hand finds his in the dark.

“you’re not going out, namjoon,” you say. “not on my ship.”

he squeezes your hand once.

and then doesn’t let go.

—

on day twenty-five, someone makes a comment.

one of the other passengers, leaning against a wall in the gym module, eyeing you and namjoon as you float through.

“bet that one’s already got her bunk warmed,” the man says under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

you stop.

namjoon hears it too.

but before you can snap, he just reaches for your hand—gently, deliberately—and tugs you forward.

doesn’t look at the guy. doesn’t flinch.

just takes you with him. somewhere quiet.

“thank you,” you say when you’re alone.

he shrugs. “wasn’t worth it.”

you tilt your head. “you didn’t even deny it.”

he looks at you.

and for the first time since launch, there’s heat in his gaze.

“maybe because… part of me doesn’t want to.”

the silence pulses around you like air between lightning strikes.

you swallow. “joon—”

he steps closer. just slightly. enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest.

but he doesn’t kiss you. doesn’t make a move.

he just says, “i like being around you. a lot. but i’ll never push.”

you nod, heart pounding.

“okay,” you whisper.

and he smiles.

you leave the room with your fingers brushing again, and this time—he laces them through yours.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ navigation : all works ; guidelines ; let's be friends .ᐟ

#kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #namjoon scenario #namjoon bts #bts #.txt #the man who stared at rocks

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saymonsays · 2 months ago

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‎1 — Solving for X (and Maybe Love)

‎

pairing: kwon jiyong x reader

ep 2 | ep 3

‎Summary: She’s a popular girl who hates math. He’s the quiet genius no one notices. When she’s forced to get tutoring—and he’s assigned as her tutor—their worlds crash into each other. She’d rather fail than accept help. He’d rather disappear than be noticed. It’s slow, it’s messy, it’s unspoken—but it’s real. In a classroom full of numbers, they might be solving for something they never expected: each other.

‎‎Tags: slow burn, highschool romance, opposites attract, art vs math, chaotic friendships, banter, wholesome chemistry, just fluff

‎‎‎‎“Variable Unknown”

‎‎There’s a rule I live by: If you can’t solve it, draw on it.

‎So naturally, my math quiz had a doodle of a frog wearing sunglasses in the margin and a dragon curling around question 7.

‎

‎“Y/N…” Mr. Lee sighed, holding up the paper like it smelled. “This isn’t... art class.”

‎

‎“Wasn’t trying to be,” I muttered, snatching it from his hand. “That dragon’s judging me for trying.”

‎

‎He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re smart. But attitude doesn’t pass exams.”

‎

‎I leaned back in the chair. “I don’t need help. I just need the system to stop sucking.”

‎

‎“You need a tutor,” he said flatly.

‎

‎“I don’t need—!”

‎

‎The door creaked open.

‎

‎And in walked him.

‎Kwon Jiyong.

‎

‎I’d seen him around. Hoodie. Headphones. A ghost in the halls. People said he once corrected a teacher’s math mistake mid-lesson and then apologized for speaking. He was the type who made solving equations look spiritual.

‎

‎He glanced at me once, then looked away. Like I was air. Or less.

‎

‎“You’ll be working with Kwon Jiyong from now on,” Mr. Lee said. “Unless you’d rather fail.”

‎

‎I scoffed. “Why him?”

‎

‎Jiyong blinked, like the conversation was happening in another dimension.

‎

‎“I… don’t mind,” he said quietly, eyes flicking to my desk. “I guess.”

‎

‎Ugh.

‎

‎After class, I stomped to my locker. Saebom was waiting, sipping a strawberry milk like she’d been born to meddle.

‎

‎“Sooo?” she asked, already grinning. “New tutor boy?”

‎

‎“He barely spoke three words. I don’t need a tutor, Sae. I need the Ministry of Education to lower their expectations.”

‎

‎“You do need a tutor,” she replied sweetly. “You also need to stop drawing frogs in your math tests.”

‎

‎Daesung popped up beside her like a gremlin. “Did someone say frogs?”

‎

‎“NO,” I groaned.

‎

‎“Ohhh, this is good,” he laughed. “Jiyong tutoring her? That’s like a cat babysitting a squirrel.”

‎

‎Saebom and Daesung high-fived like the menace twins they were. Meanwhile, I was internally screaming.

‎

‎Back in the empty classroom, Jiyong sat beside me like I was made of static. He opened his notebook—neatly written, color-coded, no doodles. The polar opposite of mine, which featured stickmen sword fighting beside a crying graph.

‎

‎“You really hate math, huh,” he said quietly.

‎

‎“You really can’t draw, huh,” I shot back, eyeing his sketch of a ‘tree’ that looked like an angry fork.

‎

‎He actually blinked in surprise. “It’s… not my thing.”

‎

‎“Well, this whole ‘me getting tutored’ thing? Not my thing.”

‎

‎He didn’t respond. Just turned a page in his notebook and slid it over, his handwriting painfully perfect.

‎

‎“Fine. Let’s just start.”

‎

‎As our pens began to scratch across paper, I realized something.

‎

‎This wasn’t going to be easy.

‎

‎Not because I couldn’t learn math.

‎

‎But because something about Kwon Jiyong made me want to draw him into my world. Even if he hated trees.

‎

‎The second tutoring session started like a funeral. Mutual annoyance sprinkled with suspicious butterflies, and a tutoring session that’s barely a tutoring session because you're too busy drawing and he’s too stunned trying to understand how you exist.

‎

‎Jiyong sat across from me again, silent as a ghost, his pen already poised like he was ready to operate on the math textbook.

‎

‎I, on the other hand, was drawing a chicken in a spacesuit.

‎

‎“Y/N,” he said softly.

‎

‎I didn’t look up. “What?”

‎

‎“You’re not even holding a calculator.”

‎

‎“I’m creating, Jiyong. Let me live.”

‎

‎He paused. “You spelled ‘space’ wrong on the chicken’s helmet.”

‎

‎I looked up. He was staring at my doodle, deadpan. And I swear—I swear—there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

‎

‎“You watching me or tutoring me?” I smirked.

‎

‎“Trying to do both. It’s hard,” he mumbled, eyes darting back to his notebook. “You’re… distracting.”

‎

‎Butterflies. Annoyed butterflies. “I told Mr. Lee this wouldn’t work.”

‎

‎“I didn’t ask for this either.”

‎

‎“Then why’re you here?”

‎

‎“Because I do things properly,” he replied, eyes suddenly sharp. “Unlike some people who draw chickens on math books and expect miracles.”

‎

‎“Correction: space chickens. And miracles are kind of my thing.”

‎

‎He blinked, then shook his head slightly like clearing a mental bug. “Okay. Fine. Let’s try again. Just—answer this equation.”

‎

‎He slid the notebook over. I glanced at it. Numbers. Letters. I wrote down “potato” and slid it back.

‎

‎He stared at the page.

‎

‎“That’s not even a number.”

‎

‎“I know,” I said proudly. “But it’s honest.”

‎

‎Jiyong let out a long, slow sigh, like he was using every brain cell not to give up on humanity.

‎

‎“You’re hopeless.”

‎

‎“No,” I said, tapping the page with my pen. “I’m just creatively rebellious.”

‎

‎He closed his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

‎

‎“And yet here you are. Voluntarily.”

‎

‎Silence. Just the sound of rain hitting the windows and my pen sketching a tiny crown on his doodle of a triangle.

‎

‎Then—he looked up. Right at me.

‎

‎And for the first time, I saw it. A crack in the wall. A question in his gaze. Like he was trying to figure me out—and kind of liked that he couldn’t.

‎

‎“What?” I asked, suddenly a little breathless.

‎

‎“…Nothing,” he said quietly. “Just… you’re loud.”

‎

‎“I didn’t even say anything.”

‎

‎“Exactly.”

‎

‎Our eyes lingered.

‎

‎And I hated it.

‎Because for a moment, I forgot I was supposed to hate being here.

‎——————————

Your room – Saturday Afternoon

‎Your desk was chaos—gel pens, pastel highlighters, open sketchbooks, and a half-eaten box of macarons.

‎

‎You weren’t studying. Obviously.

‎

‎You were halfway through drawing a bored-looking dinosaur holding a “HELP ME” sign on the corner of your planner. Next to it? A list of math formulas Mr. Lee told you to memorize. They were untouched.

‎

‎A text pinged.

‎

‎→ Saebom

‎‎“U still alive or did math murder u?”

‎

‎You smirked, sent a picture of the dinosaur, then leaned back in your chair and stared at the ceiling.

‎

‎Your room looked like it belonged in a magazine—soft lighting, clean aesthetic, shelves with books you might never read. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

‎

‎And yet, you felt… stuck. Like everyone had already decided who you were before you even opened your mouth.

‎

‎Beautiful. Rich. Dumb.

‎None of it was true.

‎

‎Well, maybe the first two.

‎

‎You sighed, flipped open a new sketch page—and without thinking, started drawing a boy in a hoodie.

‎

‎Glasses. Blank expression.

‎A math book in his lap.

‎

‎You paused.

‎

‎“No,” you muttered to yourself. “Nope. Not happening.”

‎

‎You ripped the page out and threw it in the bin.

‎

‎Jiyong’s Kitchen – Saturday Evening

‎

‎Jiyong was slicing onions with surgical precision, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

‎

‎“Jiyong-ah, you don’t have to cook every time,” his mom said gently, walking in.

‎

‎“I like it,” he replied quietly. “It keeps me focused.”

‎

‎She smiled and ruffled his hair, even as he ducked away.

‎

‎In the background, his sister was doing math homework. He glanced over, spotted a mistake, and slid over next to her, correcting it without a word.

‎

‎“Thanks, ” she chirped.

‎

‎He nodded, then returned to the stove, his thoughts drifting back to you.

‎

‎You were everything he wasn’t. Loud. Bright. Effortlessly social.

‎

‎But also… sharp, in ways people missed. Your sarcasm wasn’t empty. Your doodles were alive. You didn’t try to be interesting—you just were.

‎

‎He had no idea how to talk to you.

‎But he couldn’t stop thinking about your hands when you drew.

‎

‎School Courtyard – Monday Morning

‎

‎“Is it true?” someone whispered.

‎

‎“I heard she’s getting tutored by him.”

‎

‎“Why would a girl like her even talk to a guy like that?”

‎

‎The words floated around Jiyong like smog as he walked past a group of boys.

‎

‎One of them—taller, louder—stuck out a foot.

‎

‎Jiyong tripped.

‎

‎His books hit the ground. Pens scattered.

‎

‎The boys laughed. “Woah.. Guess he forgot to solve that equation.”

‎

‎He didn’t say a word. Just picked up his things quietly, face unreadable.

‎

‎But as he stood, he saw someone watching him from the second-floor window.

‎

‎You.

‎

‎Your eyes locked. He looked away quickly.

‎

‎But you didn’t.

‎

‎Your fingers tightened around your sketchbook.

‎

‎School Hallway – After Lunch

‎

‎The hallway buzzed with lazy post-lunch chatter—lockers clanging, sneakers squeaking, some guy trying (and failing) to flirt with the class president.

‎

‎You were walking with Saebom, eating pomegranate seeds out of a ziplock bag and talking about literally anything except math, when you heard it.

‎

‎"Look, it's her nerdy little sidekick."

‎

‎You turned your head, mid-chew.

‎

‎Jiyong stood near the lockers, shoulders tense. One of the guys from the soccer team—Hojun, who was about as sharp as a deflated balloon—was blocking his path.

‎

‎“Oh come on, man. Say something. You tutor the prettiest girl in school and act like you’re above everyone now?” he laughed, glancing around to make sure people were watching. “What are you, mute? Got secret rich-boy confidence?”

‎

‎Jiyong didn’t respond. Just tried to move past.

‎

‎Another guy stepped into his way.

‎

‎You dropped the pomegranate bag.

‎

‎“Hey.”

‎

‎The whole group froze. People turned.

‎

‎You marched forward, voice sharp and crystal-clear.

‎

‎“Got nothing better to do than pick on someone who’s smarter than you?”

‎

‎Hojun blinked. “Wha—hey, we’re just joking—”

‎

‎“Oh no, I love jokes. Want to hear one?” you snapped. “A guy who failed math three times thinks he can bully the kid tutoring me.”

‎

‎Laughter scattered around the hallway like popcorn.

‎

‎Hojun’s ears turned red. “You don’t have to go that far—”

‎

‎“You didn’t either,” you cut in, stepping between him and Jiyong now. “So back off.”

‎

‎They backed down—slow, awkward, tripping over their dignity. The moment they disappeared, you exhaled hard, turning to Jiyong.

‎

‎He was staring at you.

‎

‎Expression unreadable. Eyes wide. Like he was seeing you for the first time.

‎

‎“What?” you asked, still fuming.

‎

‎“You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly.

‎

‎“Well, I did. Because that was messed up.”

‎

‎Silence.

‎

‎“You okay?” you added, quieter now.

‎

‎He gave a tiny nod. “...You made Hojun look stupid.”

‎

‎You shrugged. “He did that on his own.”

‎

‎And just like that, you turned to leave. But he called your name.

‎

‎You looked back.

‎

‎Jiyong wasn’t smiling—but he wasn’t blank either.

‎

‎“Thanks,” he said. Like the word wasn’t something he said often, but meant when he did.

‎

‎You waved it off, walking fast. “Don’t make it a thing.”

‎

‎But your face burned a little.

‎

‎And the worst part?

‎

‎Saebom was waiting around the corner, grinning like she just watched episode 12 of her favorite drama.

‎

‎“Ohhh… we’re getting somewhere.”

‎

‎You shoved her. “Shut up.”

‎

‎But even as you did…

‎

‎You were smiling, just a little.

‎

—

Author's note: i wrote this while pooping because i was bored.. this also my first fic PLEASE suggest more things (im a noob) might also drop another part :3

#gdragon x reader #g dragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #jiyong x reader #bigbang fanfic #kwon jiyong #gdragon #fluff #bigbang fluff #kwon jiyong fic #peaceminusone #bigbang x reader #bigbang

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kbandtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Less Than Three (Hongjoong x Reader)

~Rachel~

@sorryimananti-romantic hahaha remember how I said I was the slowest writer ever? Apparently that's not true because it only took me a month and a half to write this. I need help

Content: fluff, a whole lot of delusional one-sided pining (the cute kind though) (from him), silly middle school antics from both teachers and students, betting, friends to lovers

Summary: Kim Hongjoong teaches middle school math and finds himself absolutely smitten with you, the math department's newest hire. You're the last person to find out.

Note: This is set in an American-style middle school because that's where my teaching experiences have been and I figured my best work would come out of the system I'm most familiar with

Word Count: 11.5k

Why did Hongjoong choose middle school?

He asks himself this question every day as well

If he wanted to be a math teacher, high school was clearly a better option

But no he had started out in a middle school, promising to take a high school position as soon as one opened up

And now he was actively avoiding high school principals that wanted to recruit him

Is it because he found out the math is easier to explain and the kids really aren’t that bad?

Yeah sure

But this year he had another reason to stay

See his math department had a position open up this summer and as he got to take part in interviews to select a new hire

He fell in love

Now that was not the whole reason he advocated to hire you

In fact your credentials as a math teacher

The places you had taught before

Your praxis exam scores

Your recommendation letters

The professional development programs you were a part of

Test scores from your previous classes

The way you understood math

And especially the way you believed that every student had the potential to pass your class

All of these made you the obvious choice and everyone else agreed

But he was struck several times with Cupid’s arrows throughout the interview and that absolutely did not hurt his opinion of you as a potential colleague

On this particular morning his excuse to talk to you before classes started for the day was a test for your 7th graders

Which they would be taking next Friday

Your feedback always ended up being valuable anyway so there was no need for this to be an “excuse” but it got to be one anyway

You were typing something up when he knocked on the open door to your classroom to announce his presence

You finished typing your sentence before you looked up, and when you saw Hongjoong leaning against the door frame with some papers in his hand, you greeted him with a smile and a wave

He wondered if it would look unprofessional if he grew out his hair to cover his ears

You looked gorgeous today (every day) and he knew there was no stopping his ears from turning bright red

“I have the unit tests for 7th,” he said, stealing a chair from a desk to sit backwards on while he talked to you

“Oh good!” you replied. “I’ll take a look at those and get them back to you by lunch”

Buy lunch he thought

That sounded like an excellent idea

He should buy you lunch

He didn’t say that though

“Works for me. How was your weekend?”

And he stalled and stalled and stalled until the first bell rang and he had to get out to hall duty

At lunch he walked in again while you were putting in assignment scores and munching on some pretzel sticks

“I made a key for that new assignment we decided to add for 8th grade. Can you check answers if you get the time?”

His heart did a little flip as you covered your mouth with your hand while you finished chewing

How could you be so graceful and polite?

And your hands were so pretty wow

“Yes just as soon as I finish putting these in. And—” you turned your chair around and grabbed something from behind you— “here are the 7th tests from this morning. I added a couple notes on the integer operations review questions, but other than that, I think they’re great”

He unfortunately did need to go and eat his own lunch and fulfill other teacherly lunchtime duties so he couldn’t stall as much as this morning

But he read your notes on the way back to his classroom

And boy he could have lived in your handwriting

The pen that you used was the perfect instrument to capture every letter, every dot, every loop in a way that encapsulated your personality

And as soon as he caught himself thinking that he knew he needed to ask the home ec teacher to smack him over the head with a frying pan because wowie

He would need professional help in order to date you like a normal person at this point

Anyway he was practically skipping back after lunch because he came up with another question to ask you

There were students there so instead of using your first name he caught your attention by calling you Miss (L/N)

Which for some reason gives him more butterflies than calling you normally

This time luckily instead of giving you a new task it was a task he could do for you

“How many copies of the activity page should I put you down for?”

“Ooh good question”

You put your finger over your lips as you counted on your other hand and he had to actively look away and think about other things

There were students present after all

“Which classes are you doing it with?” you ended up asking

He used the opportunity to set a hand down on your desk and lean forward in a cool pose

“I’m making the eighth graders do it but it’s extra credit for the seventh”

“That sounds like a good plan to me. So sixty for the eighth graders and then how many do you think I would need if it’s optional?”

Oh boy he loved it when you asked for advice

It gave him the chance to look cool and smart and he always got to play it off as the humble senior teacher

“I do half just to be safe. Plus then you have extra if you want to do it again later in the year or even next year”

And then your face did that thing it did when you liked a suggestion he gave

Your face lit up with your eyebrows raised and your mouth in a little “ooh”

There were students around there were students around

“Okay then sixty for the eighth graders and forty-five for seventh. A hundred and five?”

He scribbled the number down on the copy request form

“Excellent. I’ll run this down then”

He gave you a smile and a wave as he went to attend to his own class

Which you returned

And he was sure his heart would never physically recover from the stress it was under this year

You didn’t need to know that you were the only other teacher he was sharing this particular activity page with

He would give it to the other teachers if they asked him for it but he wasn’t going to go out of his way for this one because it was kind of silly and short

But he would do anything to make your first year at a new school just a little bit easier

Back in his classroom he tried to get class started when one of his eighth graders had the audacity to raise his hand and say the following:

“You just walked back from Miss (L/N)’s class huh?”

Mr. Kim squinted suspiciously at the student

“Yeah…why”

“You’re way nicer when you go to her class before our class starts”

Before he had any time to figure out what that meant, the class exploded in giggles and shouts of agreement

“Yeah you smile a lot more this year than you did last year” a girl who had had his class the previous year as well agreed

And then from the back corner

One of the notorious trouble makers stood up

Pointed his finger up at poor Mr. Kim, who was now considering taking a high school position again

And shouted “Mr. Kim has a crush on Miss (L/N)!!!”

There was no longer any hope for this class

Exponent rules? Down the drain

Hongjoong was now a laughingstock

Irredeemable in front of a bunch of 13-14 year olds

So he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, lips pursed, and his eyes dangerously blank

It wasn’t long before kids started shushing each other

Even once they were quiet, he held their attention for a second longer

“If you have two to the fourth times two to the third, what’s the product?” he asked clearly, writing the problem on the whiteboard in new black marker

Not addressing the issue would not stem the tide of curious teenagers for long but it would have to be a band-aid solution until he figured out how to do this properly

Because he couldn’t allow rumors to spread that he liked you because firstly unprofessional and secondly what if you heard them and thought he was weird

But he couldn’t lie and allow rumors to spread that he definitely didn’t have a crush on you because firstly. unprofessional kids don’t need to know about that stuff

Like they think they’re all mature and old enough to date when they can’t even drive yet like can you imagine as a teenager asking your mom to drive you to your date with your girlfriend. Embarrassing

BUT SECONDLY

What if you heard the rumors and maybe you did like him back and it crushed your heart to hear that he didn’t like you

While the kids were working on their assignment and he was working on his computer he decided the best way to explain this to them

If they ever brought it up again

Was that they’re always in a better mood when they get to talk to their friends, right?

You’re a good friend and it’s fun working with you

The other math teachers are fun too but you’re close to his age so it makes sense that you would be closer

Yep

Good explanation Mr. Kim

Literally just one day later the kids bring it up again and they do not buy his explanation

They don’t even pretend to because their brains are not developed enough to have that kind of social tact

And the rumor doesn’t exactly spread like wildfire around the school but everyone knows about it you know what I mean

Except you actually

You’re usually very aware of everything going on in your classroom but somehow this particular subject escaped your attention

You learned early on that for some reason kids don’t have shame anymore in spilling their guts to the classroom about what they’re gossiping about

So the usual “if you can’t wait to tell your friend later then tell the whole class now” classroom management tactic is now useless

So you didn’t do that instead you just asked them which problem they’re helping their friend with and if they’re not helping their friend with math then they should get back on task

You didn’t think that any middle school level gossip could actually be that interesting anyway so yeah you had no idea that kids were shipping the teachers

And you didn’t want to know

So you stayed blissfully ignorant

While Hongjoong was lowkey agonizing over it

Now you and Hongjoong tend to eat lunch in your own classrooms rather than the staff lounge

Because why use up any more social energy than necessary right

But there is a vending machine in the staff room and Hongjoong was craving something sweet one day

And when he walked in the other teachers in there suddenly went awkwardly silent

And he knew

They were talking about him

Yeah he should take a high school position next year

Two of the younger teachers, Jung Wooyoung from the history department and Choi San from the phys ed department, broke the silence giggling to each other

“Sorry Hongjoong” San apologized “the kids are just hilarious these days. They’re so excited about you and (Y/N) it’s adorable”

Hongjoong gave them a look

“Adorable?”

“Well firstly you” Wooyoung pointed out “I never thought I’d see you fall head over heels but I totally get it. She’s super cool”

“And secondly the kids” San continued “any time you guys are talking in the hall I have all of the girls talking about it during warm ups. The boys all think of you as their role model when it comes to liking a girl”

“That reminds me!” Wooyoung interrupted “I actually did have a boy confess to a girl in my class the other day and you wanna know what he told her??”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrowed in a glare, absolutely sure that his reputation was never going to recover

“He said ‘I like you more than Mr. Kim likes Miss (L/N)’”

The teachers tried to tone down their laughter out of respect

Hongjoong wanted to leave immediately but this stupid vending machine was having issues

“And then you know what she said back?”

Wooyoung was having trouble holding himself together

His eyes were shining a little with tears of laughter

“She said ‘That’s impossible. No one can like anyone more than Mr. Kim likes Miss (L/N)’”

The other teachers could not hold it back anymore

The vending machine finally gave Hongjoong his candy bar

(Plus the extra one he bought for you)

So he made his way swiftly back towards the door

“Oh no no wait” Wooyoung called after him

“Tests to grade” Hongjoong lied simply

“No come on you have to hear this”

Hongjoong stopped at the door, fighting the urge to classroom manage his coworkers

He looked back both unimpressed and expectant at the same time

“Okay everyone raise your hands if you betted on before Christmas break” Wooyoung called out

Some of the teachers looked at him like he had just asked out a widow at her husband’s funeral

But they raised their hands sheepishly anyway

“Great yes and after Christmas break?”

The other half raised their hands, most of them looking like they wished that had eaten lunch in their own classrooms

“These are bets on when you’re going to ask her out” Wooyoung explained cheerfully

“Wasn’t someone also trying to get bets going on whether you would confess first or she would notice first?” San asked

“That was also me” Wooyoung said with a grin

The lounge door opened again and in walked the principal and one of the vice principals

Hongjoong thought this was finally the end to this stupid conversation

But no

“Oh Hongjoong!” the principal greeted him with a pat on the arm “I’ve got $50 on you dating before Christmas. Don’t let me down”

Waiting until the end of the school year to take a new position would simply not be soon enough

Hongjoong needed to find a new job or retire within the month

But then on the way back to his classroom he remembered he had an extra candy bar for you

So he made a detour

But what greeted him was a closed door with the window on the door covered

He hadn’t ever seen your door shut like this before so he wasn’t sure what it meant exactly

Maybe you went out to lunch today?

Then he could just nab one of your sticky notes and leave the candy bar on your desk with a positive message

He would rather give it to you himself, but the idea of you finding the candy bar on your desk later made his chest feel all warm and cozy so it was fine

Your door was unlocked, so he pulled it open just enough so he could see inside

And you were in there actually

Slumped in your desk chair with your head in your hands

Oh no

Hongjoong had been there before

Every teacher had been there before

The work of a teacher isn’t as easy as most people would like to believe

Especially for middle school, and even more so for math, it takes someone with unending patience and courage to help kids learn every day

And some days that patience and courage runs a little thinner than other days

Even experienced teachers wonder from time to time if it’s worth the soul that they give to their classes

The classes that seem sometimes not to notice one way or the other if you’re teaching or not

You hadn’t noticed that you weren’t quite alone anymore, so that left Hongjoong with a choice to make

Did he let you have this moment to yourself?

Or did he try to help you through it?

He closed the door as softly as he could

And then he gave a little knock to give you some privacy and some time to gather yourself

Then he opened the door and stepped halfway through

“The vending machine spat out two candy bars instead of one” he lied with a grin, holding up the extra candy bar and wiggling it between his fingers

You had sat up and were resting your chin on your hand curiously

But there was definitely a downtrodden aura about you that he couldn’t miss

“That’s pretty lucky,” you replied

He took that as permission to enter and on his way to your desk he snagged his usual chair to sit backwards on

“How’s today going so far?” he asked as if he knew nothing, setting the candy bar down on top of your closed computer

“Oh, you know,” you sighed

He chuckled, opening his candy bar, not making eye contact with you to relieve some pressure for you to keep up an act

“That good, huh?”

You laughed in return

“Just got my butt kicked by a bunch of seventh graders, so yeah, it’s kind of whatever right now”

Ah the teacher equivalent of “I want to quit my job and hide in my bed for the rest of my life”

“Oh, yep, I’ve been there more than once” he said with a nod “and sometimes there’s really nothing you could have done better, you know? Kids are just like that sometimes. It makes me glad I’m not an elementary school teacher”

“Oh my word yes” you agreed, finally picking up the candy bar “at least I can kick these gremlins out after 45 minutes and I don’t have to see them again until the next day. I can’t imagine being with the same class all day”

Did Hongjoong end up squandering his entire eating time just to talk with you and make sure you felt better?

Yes

He would have to sneak bites of his sandwich in between activities during his afternoon classes

But like it wasn’t the first time he’d had to do that and heaven knew it wouldn’t be the last

At least he had a good reason today instead of something stupid like he was lost in the test grading sauce and forgot to eat

He proceeded to get his butt kicked by his afternoon classes because he couldn’t wipe his lovefool smile off his face

But it was okay because once again it wasn’t the first time and heaven knew it wouldn’t be the last

Not long after came the hallowed and hated teacher inservice day

Professional development day

Both a huge waste of time and a relaxing little work day

The administrators usually planned a series of workshops for the morning that all looked. well. kind of stupid but it was all planned with good intention

Then it was lunch time

And then after that you had until the end of contract hours to do whatever pretty much

The math department liked to go to lunch together and then have a really productive planning meeting until people got bored and then it was individual prep time pretty much

Mostly it was just kinda nice to be at school without kids there

This year was no exception to all of this

But Mr. Principal had $50 on the line and decided to play matchmaker about it

For each of the workshops the teachers were split into groups

And you and Hongjoong had been placed together every single time

Somehow you genuinely thought it was just good luck

Hongjoong was hyperaware of every other teacher looking and pointing and giggling and you were so peacefully oblivious to it

The first workshop was about medical emergency training, specifically training teachers in case of allergy or diabetic emergencies

As soon as the nurse finished with the epipen instructions you leaned over to Hongjoong and whispered “like this?”

And stabbed him with the fake epipen right in the thigh

Hongjoong swore he was going to die right then and there because why was that so attractive???

“Four…five…six…seven…eight…” you counted out, holding the epipen in place for the full ten seconds

And like a good patient he sat like a statue because his circuits were absolutely fried

You glanced up at his face and your expression immediately dropped

You checked the epipen all over to make sure it was just a trainer

(It was)

“Hongjoong are you okay?? Your face is all red did I do something wrong?” you worried

He unfroze and tried to undo the damage of his Little Moment but the nurse was already over at the table taking a closer look at him after dismissing the rest of the teachers to practice

She looked at you and then at Hongjoong and then at you again and back at Hongjoong and a funny look of understanding came over her face

“Are you Mr. Kim the math teacher” she asked

He nodded awkwardly

“And are you Miss (L/N) the math teacher” she asked

“Yes?” you answered

She patted Hongjoong on the shoulder

“He’ll be fine in a minute or so” she reassured you, glancing up and away somewhere else

You both followed her gaze over to the principal, who gave her a bright smile and a thumbs up

Which looked innocuous enough to the untrained eye

But to Hongjoong this was just another in a long list of embarrassments

The principal had told the guest workshop speakers about him

And he had been spotted that easily

After that was administration-provided snack time

Hongjoong offered to grab sodas if you would grab chips and stuff

And at the soda table he was greeted by Wooyoung and San, who called him affectionately Mr. Traffic Light

Hongjoong resisted the urge to react publicly

Even though there were no children around he refused to allow himself to be caught cursing them out

But he brainstormed violently about the ways he could get back at them without getting caught

Truly his middle school teacher powers of ignoring were activated because those two were practically dancing around him trading one-liner after one-liner and Hongjoong paid them no mind

Until he realized they were following him back to the table where he was sitting with you

He did not need them teasing him around you so he tried to shoo them off

But Wooyoung gleefully turned his attention up to the projector screen where the groupings for the next workshop were displayed

Truly your presence was the only saving grace this day had to offer

They were in this group with you two

The computer teacher/school tech support guy was leading this workshop and he was showcasing how one might use ai in their classroom

And all four of you were totally zoned out because firstly ai in a math classroom?? For what

Chat bots are notoriously bad at math

Ai in San’s gymnasium? Once again no practical application

And Wooyoung honestly just wasn’t that interested because none of you were listening so he didn’t feel like he had to either

So he decided flirting with you was more fun

Just to make Hongjoong mad

But for all of his whispered pick up lines and compliments you had approximately the same response as to this ai workshop:

Playing gamepigeon with Hongjoong under the table

(Which Hongjoong had initiated by the way)

(And you had perpetuated after destroying him at the mini golf game)

Aka you ignored Wooyoung pretty well

So Hongjoong got to glare over at him with the peace of mind that your attention was fully his right then

San tapped your shoulder and asked for your number

Which you gave him a little too easily for Hongjoong’s continued peace of mind

But then San just made a group chat for the four of you to play uno together for the remainder of the workshop

So Hongjoong decided that actually this setup wasn’t so bad

The last workshop was unfortunately much more important so the four of you couldn’t continue slacking off

The principal was running this one and it was genuinely for the betterment of the school environment

Plus San and Wooyoung were sent off to other groups

So it was the two of you and a few other senior teachers that were going to have a discussion about one of the behavior initiatives that the school was trying out

You were the only two math teachers in the group, so when the principal passed out data that had been collected about this behavior initiative, the other teachers sort of automatically passed the papers to you

(And the science teachers in the group but that’s irrelevant)

There was only one copy of each dataset, so that meant you got to share

And that meant that you got to scoot your chairs close together to look at the paper at the same time

And even better the text was kind of small so you had to bring the papers close to your faces to read them

So the two of you were shoulder to shoulder

Practically cheek to cheek, your heads almost touching

To read this data and explain it to the less number-savvy teachers

Today was actually pretty fantastic so far, Hongjoong thought

He also wondered if you could physically feel the heat coming off of his face but that was not something he was going to let bother him right then

He was going to live in the moment

And perhaps thank the principal later

After a surprisingly productive and insightful discussion

It was finally ~lunch time~

The math department gathered up in the department head’s classroom to decide which of the nearby restaurants to choose to go to

And no one could agree

Not a single person was feeling like eating the same thing

Except Hongjoong he was agreeing with whatever you said

Not just because he wanted you to have your way but because whatever you said sounded good to him too

Maybe it sounded good because you said it but nonetheless

And then the department head said the following fateful words:

“How about you two just go ahead and we’ll try to decide on something for the rest of us

Hongjoong was suspicious right then and there that this was a setup

The department head probably had money on Before Christmas

But Hongjoong was absolutely not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers

“I’m cool with that” you answered before Hongjoong could gather his thoughts enough to say anything

Then you turned to him

“I need to go grab my purse from my classroom. Do you need anything from yours?”

“Oh, yeah, just my wallet” he answered totally on autopilot

You stopped by your classroom first and then his since his was closer to the front of the school

He was so excited to finally realize that dream of his from a few weeks back

He was gonna buy you lunch

And not only that it was just the two of you going out to lunch

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t a date

Or that technically you were just gonna buy food and eat it back at school

It was special to him to go somewhere with just you

That wasn’t school

Seriously he was so happy he couldn’t stop smiling when he told the cashier that your orders were together and he was going to pay

You kinda elbowed him and told him he didn’t have to do that

But he just shrugged and turned his smile on you

“But I wanted to” he replied

You accepted that

“It’s on me next time” you promised

And oh man he could have died right there he felt so complete

Except if he died then there would be no next time

But you were saying next time and it made him think that wow yeah this would happen again

You meant if it ever happened again but he was determined that it was a certain for the future

Because even if it didn’t happen by chance then he would make it happen himself

When you got back to the school the rest of the math department was gone so you started eating without them

And that was a magical moment of peace too

Just the two of you

No one around to tease Hongjoong

He could almost pretend you were just normal friends and he wasn’t head over heels for you

Then the rest of the department came back and they all had food from the same restaurant

So Hongjoong had been right to be suspicious earlier

It was most definitely a setup to get the two of you by yourselves

And he liked it so he wasn’t going to complain about it

Even though it was embarrassing

Well as fun as professional development day ended up being

Parent teacher conferences were not

Hongjoong was looking forward to more Mr. Principal shenanigans

Like maybe when all the teachers were in the gym yours and his table could be next to each other

And he could talk to you when neither of you had any parents

And when the night was wrapping up

And he could walk you out to your car because it was dark

And maybe treat you to dinner because the school-provided food wasn’t usually that great

But no

None of that could happen

Because someone had decided to have teachers stay in their classrooms for conferences this year

The parents would have the wonderful opportunity to get lost in their child’s school trying to find all of their classes

What a joke

They were probably going to get so many complaints they would switch it back to normal next semester

But the one time Hongjoong was looking forward to parent teacher conferences

Of course

Was the one time they had to switch it up

The one silver lining in this was the teachers complaining about it together

Hongjoong’s favorite email he had ever received was now from Wooyoung

Who was replying to the email notifying teachers of the different setup this year but just to Hongjoong

In all lowercase:

“hey loverboy u see this crap

math teacher romancephobic fr smh”

And then with his full professional email signature at the bottom

This precious email was moved to Hongjoong’s funny emails folder, which was usually reserved for unhinged student emails

He did not reply to it

San and the other phys ed teachers were joking about how nice it would be to have the gym to themselves for once but they were in agreement that this probably wouldn’t last

Of course the math department had tests scheduled across all the grades right before conferences

Which of course left everyone grading like crazy

And of course the kids trashed the classrooms the day before

And of course the head janitor ended up getting sick

So it was up to the teachers to make sure their classrooms didn’t look like trash

Even though they had 150+ tests to grade and a pile of late work to grade

And they had 24 hours (7 of which were going to be spent teaching, and hopefully 7-8 would be spent sleeping) to make this all work before parents started showing up at 4 o’clock tomorrow afternoon

What a time this was going to be

So Hongjoong picked up his pile of tests and went to your classroom

Predictably you were grading tests

He stole a student desk and moved it close to your desk

“Which tests are you working on?” he asked

“Eighth” you replied, not looking up from the test you were currently grading

“How does this sound” he began “I’ll take your seventh and you take my eighth so we don’t have to switch answer keys?”

Still barely looking up, you handed him three binder-clipped stacks of paper

“As long as you don’t mind working to music” you replied, your eyebrows raising as a little smile played on your lips

He took your tests and handed you his eighth grade tests

(This worked out nicely as you both had three classes of seventh and two classes of eighth. He was tricking you into letting him take the heavier load ohoho so sneaky)

(He was just lucky you were grading eighth instead of seventh first)

“Don’t mind?” he snickered, uncapping his favorite felt-tip grading pen “I’d prefer it”

And that’s how speed grading turned into karaoke

Grading went almost certainly slower than it would have if you had worked alone but it was way more fun this way

Of course he ended up with sixty some more tests to grade than you

So when you finished you left for a bit and came back with snacks

As well as his pile of late work

He tried to protest but no no

“You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are Mr. Kim” you teased him “You thought you could fool a math teacher into thinking we had an equal workload here?”

“That wasn’t the point” he whined, trying to put the cap back on his pen and inking his finger instead

“Then what was the point?”

I love you that’s the point

But what was the point actually

What was a point he could believably tell you without giving himself away

“Just…because” he said convincingly, shrugging his shoulders and settling back into his tests “You look stressed these days. Wanted to do something nice I guess”

You brandished his late work stack again

“So I’m going to do something nice too”

Yeah he probably wouldn’t ever feel this way about anyone ever again

For him at this point it was you or nothing

But the problem was he was willing to let it be nothing for far too long

He would never make a single move unless he knew you were okay with it

Because if he and his stupid heart ruined whatever you had going now then it would really be nothing

He wouldn’t give up the something he still had

He was like a curve approaching an asymptote

He could get infinitely close, but he would never actually touch you

After settling your gradebooks for tomorrow you started by picking up your classroom together

This did go faster with music by the way

And then you picked up his classroom together

And then he realized Hongjoong realized he could have his wish

The one about walking you out to your car and taking you out to dinner

Walking you out was easy but taking you out was another story

He would have to suggest it himself

A little known fact about teachers is that they became teachers because they don’t know how/don’t want to talk with other adults

Kids don’t judge you if something comes out of your mouth a little different than you meant it

Other adults are mean and judge you over silly things

This unfortunately meant that he didn’t know how to ask you to go to dinner with him without making it sound like a date

He was kinda just hoping a lil Kdrama moment would happen and one of your stomachs would rumble really loud so he could laugh it off and say you should go eat together

But you got closer and closer to your car and no tummy rumbling

You got to your car and no tummy rumbling

You opened your door and said goodbye and still no tummy rumbling

“Wait!!!”

He could have slapped his own mouth

You were a little startled but it stopped you from getting in your car

“Hmm?”

“Just uh…it’s kinda late and snacks are great but they’re not that filling…so do you wanna um…” he trailed off and did not finish his thought

“Wanna what?” you asked

Big boy pants Hongjoong come on

“Go grab dinner? Or something?” he finally spat out

He must not have seen your face light up in the dark

“No pressure” he added when you didn’t answer within 0.05 seconds

“No that sounds great! I was thinking of grabbing something on the way home anyway and it would be way more fun to do it with someone else” you accepted

He let you pick the place again and you drove separately because after you would be going in different directions

But it ended up being a nice little fast casual restaurant

And it didn’t feel like a date really but it kinda felt like a date but no it didn’t

It just ended up being a comfortable little outing between friends

Hongjoong knew he couldn’t stop smiling

And he wondered if you already knew how he felt about you

He was sure he didn’t smile like this at anyone else

And you were many things but dense couldn’t possibly be one of them

He knew he was the opposite of subtle

But if you were willing to spend time with him like this then that meant he didn’t make you uncomfortable

Honestly he was so used to the way you made him feel at this point that loving you from afar felt like second nature

Being friends with you was enough if he could keep loving you like this

The waiter came by and asked if it was one check or two

And Hongjoong was fully prepared to pay once again

But you beat him to it

You were already prepared with your card and everything

“I owe you for last time, remember?” you told him with a cheeky grin

He shook his head

“You don’t owe me anything”

“Well then next time it’s on you”

Hongjoong started to smile again

“Next time?”

“Well, yeah” you said with a shrug, now a little bashful “This was fun. We should keep doing it”

“It is fun” he agreed with a laugh “It’s nice to hang out with people outside of school for once”

You laughed at that

“Oh boy tell me about it. Nobody told me that teaching would ruin my social life”

And things just kind of continued like that for a while

Before you had come to the school, Hongjoong had lowkey felt like he was kind of going nowhere with his life

Any time he spent at school outside of his contract hours felt like an infringement on his personal time

Or not even at school, just away from home

He had been hoping that taking a high school position would give him back a little bit of the passion for teaching that he was losing

He hadn’t even been teaching that long it’s just that the profession really is like that

Indescribably rewarding and incredibly draining all at the same time

(Especially these days. Sometimes you really wonder if it’s worth it)

But having something to look forward to every day besides a favorite class ended up being what he needed to love his job wholeheartedly again

It wasn’t just you he had fallen in love with

He had also found new friends in an unlikely place

The math department was like family and he enjoyed their company dearly

But that weirdo phys ed teacher and obnoxious history teacher had turned into excellent friends frighteningly fast

Sometimes they joined you and Hongjoong on your dinner outings

And honestly it was such a blast

An amendment to my previous statement about teachers being teachers because they don’t like talking to other adults:

Other teachers often do not count as other adults

Sometimes they do when you have to have grown up conversations

But gossiping about students does not count as grown up conversation

There were some eighth graders that all four of you had

Hongjoong not currently but he’d had them for previous classes and they were now in your class

Was it a little embarrassing as 20 somethings to have your main source of gossip be preteens?

Yeah but oh man there is nothing like finding out which of your students are lying to their other teachers about the work they need to do

Or what they’re like in other classes

(You and Hongjoong, and sometimes Wooyoung, tended to have very different opinions about some students than San did so it was double fascinating)

Who they’re friends with outside of your class

Or crushes they have on each other

Basically if you spend every day around preteens you gossip like them too

It was now November and starting to get uncomfortably cold outside

So San had offered his home as a little gathering space for you all to order food and hang out

It was almost like a little Friendsgiving

“Any of you have (male student name, obnoxious connotation)?” Wooyoung asked, taking a sip of his soda

You immediately scoffed

“I’m about to write an email home about that kid”

Hongjoong was surprised

Annoying kids existed in every class but you usually had something nice to say about them at first at least before you got into the bad behavior

He hadn’t had this particular student but he was intrigued as to why he annoyed you so much

Wooyoung and San also both looked surprised

“He’s great in gym—like cooperative, doesn’t do stupid stuff too often—” San said “but that doesn’t usually mean anything about how they are in math class”

“No he’s great in history too” Wooyoung added “finishes all his work on time, helps his friends with theirs if he finishes”

Your eye might have twitched a little bit

You let out an unamused laugh and crossed your arms over your chest

Hongjoong was fascinated and quite enamored with this new side of you

“If he has time to help his friends then he should be working on the seven late assignments I’ve been reminding him about. He hasn’t turned in anything for two weeks”

Wooyoung gasped and covered his mouth

“You’re joking”

“I’ve talked to him about it twice and I warned him if I had to remind him a third time then I would email his parents” you said, shaking your head “Like I asked him if he’s understanding the material, if he’s got something going on at home, if he needs some help, and he’s giving me nothing to go off of”

Wooyoung smiled devilishly

“He’s been lying to me, then. I ask him every day if he has other classes to do stuff for and he says no. I will absolutely be getting on him about that”

San shook his head

“Teenagers” he sighed

Everyone nodded and repeated what he’d said

“Teenagers.”

After a moment of silence, Hongjoong spoke up

“How about (female student name, pleasant connotation)?”

The mood lifted immediately and everyone gave their own version of the word “aww”

“She is the highlight of my whole day” you said

“Seriously she’s so polite and she tries so hard even when she’s having a hard time” Wooyoung agreed

“Super athletic too” San added

“Ooh and (male student name, pleasant connotation)?” you said to another chorus of agreement “He’s kind of a punk sometimes but he’s another one that always does his best”

Hongjoong smiled

Complaining was fun, but he loved the light in your eyes when you talked about the parts of the job that you loved

Anyway as I said it was November and the Before Christmas faction of teachers was starting to get nervous because there was no sign of anything happening

They saw you walk out together more than usual but they didn’t know that you were meeting up outside of school and stuff

The kids were also more riled up about it than usual

To the point where Hongjoong wondered if the other teachers were inciting chaos on purpose

It was getting bad enough that one of his classes almost failed a test across the board—on a unit about rounding and converting fractions to decimals of all things

As in the easiest math ever

So Mr. Kim had to resort to drastic measures

At the beginning of all his classes, he drew a box on the edge of the whiteboard

“This is the nonsense box” he explained with a teacherly smile

That is to say frustrated but still filled with love for his students

“Every time one of you is talking about anything that is not related to class, a tally mark goes in the box. Each tally mark represents an extra fifteen seconds you get to sit in your seat after the bell rings”

A chorus of protest arose

“I don’t want to hear it” Mr. Kim shook his head “How many of you are planning on retaking last Friday’s test?”

About half of the hands in the room came up sheepishly

“Exactly. It’s because we’re constantly off topic that no one is able to listen and learn in here. We can do better, okay?”

And then immediately from the back of the room

“Ooh, Miss (L/N) just passed in the hall!!!”

And chorus of “Ooooooh”

Whether it was true or not, Hongjoong was happy to draw his first tally mark without a word

Just that same teacherly smile

Another round of protest came and he drew another one

After the third tally mark, they shut up

“Good. Let’s talk about coefficients. Has anyone heard that word before?”

Once again I will say it was November

And the month after November is December

And December is the month of Christmas

Not just Christmas break

But Christmas itself

And that meant that Hongjoong now

After coming back from a brief Thanksgiving break

Had only a few weeks to find you a Christmas present

Now he wasn’t thoughtless like this wasn’t the first time it had crossed his mind

It had just stressed him out wondering if he would have the guts to confess his feelings for you or if he would be outed somehow first

Plus in case y’all didn’t know teaching (especially teaching around the holidays) is stressful

He just imagined Christmas as this far off date that was too good to ever come

And so he hadn’t even had time to think about what to get you

Something for your classroom?

Something for your home?

A cute accessory?

A fun math shirt?

Not a gift card though that was far too impersonal

Nothing seemed good enough for you

If he were to deliver his feelings with a gift like any of these, it felt insufficient

Most lunches the last bit of November and the first week of December

(If not spent pestering you)

He spent fretting over his Amazon cart with his head in his hands

And then the most unfortunate miracle occurred

The heaters toward the math hall decided working at full capacity was a waste of tax dollars

And the weather was shaping up to be quite uncomfortable

Everyone started to bring blankets and stuff but it was never quite enough

Your classroom was especially cold, since it was the farthest down the hall

So Hongjoong was gifted an opportunity

He went and found one of those soft and cozy electric blankets

In a color he assumed to be your favorite considering how much you wore it and how many of the little trinkets around your classroom were that color

And he packaged it like he had meant to give it to you for Christmas anyway

Then he brought it for you the next day

You were sitting at your desk in your full winter outdoor gear with a blanket that did look cozy but thankfully was not electric

And your teeth were practically chattering as you waved hello

He still hadn’t taken off his coat or his gloves either actually

He set the present on your desk

“I was saving this for Christmas but I think you might need it more now” he told you with a grin

Your curiosity was suddenly piqued

You opened the gift cautiously, glancing up at him every few seconds

But as soon as you felt the material of the blanket, you perked up

And upon discovering that it was electric you could have cried

“I haven’t been able to feel my fingers since last week” you told him gratefully “Seriously I was trying to figure out how many space heaters I would need to buy to survive the winter”

“The department head has one in her classroom” he said “If you grab your old blanket and your laptop then you can let your new blanket heat up here while we hang out over there”

What a beautiful suggestion

The department head raised her eyebrow at the two of you coming in with blankets

But she smiled too when she saw you settling down in front of her heater

“Don’t tell anyone” she said “but sometimes I take a nap over there during lunch”

“Oh I see exactly why” you agreed, sitting cross-legged and setting your computer in your lap “I can literally feel my bones thawing out”

Hongjoong settled down a respectable distance from you

But he thought someone else was pranking him when he felt a blanket drape over his shoulders

He looked around, startled, and then he realized it was the other side of your blanket

You had thrown your blanket over him to share, even though he had one of his own

And now you were pulling his arm to get him to scoot closer to you

Was this a dream??

He would not be happy if his alarm rang

But no it was real and he happily obliged

You were sitting shoulder to shoulder again

Just like at the professional development workshop

Except this time it was so warm and cozy and there was definitely a much less professional vibe

The department head raised her eyebrow at you once again

But Hongjoong was way too enamored with your shy smile to notice

After just a few minutes in this cozy little haven

Your time was unfortunately cut short

Not by students arriving to school

But by Wooyoung poking his head into the classroom

“Oh I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys”

He stepped into the classroom and greeted its owner accordingly

She nodded as if to allow him permission to enter

“They have hot chocolate down in the teachers lounge” Wooyoung informed them “I figured you icicles back here in the freezer rooms would want some but it looks like you were hiding a—” he looked down at the two of you skeptically “campfire back here”

Wooyoung clearly thought he meant something by that but no one else knew what he was trying to say

So his last comment went ignored

“Do you want hot chocolate?” Hongjoong asked you “I can go get some for us”

“No it’s okay I’ll go with you”

Oh Wooyoung saw exactly what was going on here

Hongjoong did not

Hongjoong was a little confused—was his help becoming an awkward burden to you?

While Wooyoung saw the truth

You just wanted the excuse to walk with him

Now Wooyoung had two choices

He could step back and let you two walk down together, maybe say something to speed this math teacher romance along

Or he could third wheel

And who was Wooyoung if he didn’t pass up the chance to annoy?

Plus he had taken an oath once he started collecting bets that he wouldn’t try to swing the competition one way or another

And since telling you about the hot chocolate while you were together felt like pushing the competition faster, it felt right to pull it back a bit by getting in between you for a few minutes

So he offered hands to both of you to help you off the floor

“Let’s all go together then” he said “You should also find out if your campsite director wants any”

“Campsite director?” Hongjoong asked, shutting his computer

You also closed your computer and set it aside, looking around to figure out who Wooyoung was talking about

“Your gracious host this morning” he clarified, giving the department head a charming little wave

You both took Wooyoung’s hands at the same time and almost pulled him down with you in the process of standing up

As you straightened your pants, you asked the department head if she wanted you to bring her back any hot chocolate, to which she responded yes please

Wooyoung insisted on walking in the middle

And Hongjoong wondered if all of the patience he had acquired as a middle school teacher was going to be spent on not wringing this guy’s neck this morning

Fortunately Mr. Jung acted enough like one of Mr. Kim’s students that he was able to pretend he was one and just let it go

Unfortunately by the time they got back to the department head’s classroom kids were starting to show up so that was the end of artificial campfire cuddle time

But there was a silent agreement as you picked up your blankets and computers that you would be doing this again sometime

The first few weeks of December didn’t necessarily fly by but they did go by quickly in hindsight if that makes sense

And before everyone knew it

Christmas break was upon you

And there was no further progression of the math department couple

The Before Christmas teachers had gotten antsier and antsier right up until the day before break started

But thankfully no one had been worried enough to interfere

Hongjoong decided to stay in his classroom that day

(As if he didn’t stay in his classroom every day)

Because people had been giving him disappointed looks all over the school and he was tired of it

Even the principal had made a trip to Hongjoong’s classroom the Friday afternoon before everyone left

Just to tell him how disappointed he was that he hadn’t had the guts to make a move even when he knew the principal’s precious money was on the line

And ask him if you were secretly dating already and just didn’t want to make a big deal about it

But ultimately to wish him luck and a nice break

A few minutes after he left, you popped into his classroom

You had your bag and your coat and it looked like you were ready to head home

“Are you so ready to get out of here?” you asked

He stopped immediately in the middle of his task and slammed his laptop shut

Contract hours had ended a whole minute ago and he had wasted a whole minute still doing work? On break?

“Say no more” he said, standing up and putting his coat on “We should have left five minutes ago”

“Wholeheartedly agree” you replied “I would have but the principal visited me and I felt like I had to look like I was doing something”

Hongjoong froze

The principal had visited you too?

Why?

For what purpose?

Betting purposes?

This technically didn’t still count as Before Christmas Break right?

“That’s weird haha he came and visited me too, like ten minutes ago” he said with the normalest most unbothered tone he could manage

(He tried)

(His voice was not quite an octave higher than usual)

(Which is considerable improvement since it’s usually an octave and a half)

“Maybe he’s just making rounds” you said with a shrug “It’s nice to see how much he cares about this school. Definitely one of the better principals I’ve worked with”

Hongjoong relaxed perhaps too visibly

“Yeah if you need a guy to have your back he’s got it no question”

“Anyway if you don’t have any plans for the day after Christmas you should spend it with me”

If Hongjoong had been drinking something he would have choked

Even if he’d had plans in the first place he would have canceled them for you

“My day is wide open” he said “As is almost all of my break”

You smiled and his stomach did a flip

He wondered if it was ever going to stop doing that

He hoped not

“Mine too. If you’re bored, you can probably text me and I won’t be doing anything”

Was it cringe that he was now looking for technically his second Christmas present for you?

Yeah maybe but that was his lifestyle now

To quote N.Flying’s Lovefool “if they call me a lovefool it’s okay as long as it’s for your sake”

Even if you didn’t see him that way that was A-Okay

Anyway he found some cute little math-themed trinkets like pi earrings and a right triangle pin that said “I’m always right”

Because actually who are math teachers if they don’t like puns

And the morning after Christmas Day he wrapped them up all nice for you

And he got ready to meet you at a little restaurant you now frequented together

But this was actually like the first time he was meeting you on a whole day off so he had to figure out how to dress not like a teacher but still kinda nice

He had no idea

All of his pants were teacher pants

His shirts? All teacher shirts

He was way too good at dressing for his job

So he wore jeans instead of his usual khakis and hoped that was different enough?

He also layered one of his graph paper teacher shirts with a plain t-shirt underneath and didn’t button it up

He looked himself up and down in his mirror, trying different poses to make sure he looked like a Normal Guy

In the end he decided his hair was the only issue

He only knew how to style it in a teacherly fashion

And leaving it unstyled wasn’t an option

So he looked up some tutorials on some easy styles but he just could not see himself as anything other than a math teacher

So he gave up and just prayed that he looked okay

You looked perfect of course

The difference was subtle in theory but the way you dressed, the way you did your hair and makeup, it made for a world of difference

Oh you looked so gorgeous he was never going to get over it

Your eyes practically sparkled when you met him out front and man he thought before that he couldn’t be more in love with you but he was wrong

You did seem a little more awkward today than usual and he couldn’t figure out why

Like you almost seemed nervous

What for? It was just him

You got your food and he suddenly remembered the gifts in his pocket

“Oh!” he exclaimed, pulling them out “I know I gave you the blanket a few weeks ago but I found these and I knew you had to have them. Merry double Christmas?”

You covered your mouth to hide your laughter and your bite of food

“That’s so funny because I found something for you too”

And you pulled a little package out of your bag

Down bad wasn’t even a good descriptor anymore and neither was head over heels like there had to be a stronger silly description of being in love and if there wasn’t it would have to be invented for him

You had found him a shirt that said “Math is hard. So is life. Get over it.”

(Tbh an actual shirt that I own)

And he promised you he would be wearing it the day you all got back from break

As for his silly little gifts you adored them

You put the pi earrings in immediately and started brainstorming what do do with the other things out loud

He could not have been happier with himself

And then you caught him staring at you

You paused in your excited little ramblings

He sat up a little straighter, wondering what to say next

But you smiled and looked down at your plate

“You’re pretty cute, you know that?” you told him, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second

In front of you, his first instinct was to deny the possibility and he followed it without thinking

“Eh, no I’m not—not in comparison to you, anyway”

Hmm if he wanted to keep his feelings secret then that was not the thing to say

But you deserved to know it

Not just cute but beautiful

Heartstoppingly so

You took the compliment well anyway

“Have you ever thought…” you began, trailing off

You watched him as he waited for you to continue, his eyes wide and curious

“Never mind” you dismissed with a casual wave of your hand

“No hey what were you going to say?” he asked

“Nothing I just had a weird thought for a second”

“No no come on! You know I wouldn’t judge you for anything”

You hesitated again and he could see that same nervousness he’d noticed before

“Have you ever thought…I don’t know” you put your elbows up on the table “of us as more than friends? Like dating maybe?”

Once again he was going to be very upset if his alarm clock went off now

But even if this was a dream, there was no harm in saying it out loud

“Every day since the day I met you” he answered honestly

You blinked like you didn’t believe him

“You’d better not be joking because I mean this like I’m risking our whole professional relationship here—”

And then he realized

You literally had no idea about him

Genuinely no clue that the whole school knew exactly how you had him wrapped around your finger

Except you

“—on the slightest chance that you might feel the same way—”

“Hey” he stopped you softly “I would never joke about how I feel about you”

Embarrassment began to set in for both of you

“Seriously,” he said, holding back a laugh, “you can ask any of my students, any of the teachers. I think you were the last one to find out that I have a massive crush on you”

“Oh no you’re kidding!” you exclaimed, your hands coming up to hide your face

“I really wish I were—Wooyoung has two rounds of bets going with the teachers about when and how we would end up dating. It’s just about me though—I don’t think anyone else knew about you”

You buried your face further in your hands

“That is so embarrassing” you whined “Seriously I might kill Wooyoung when we get back from break”

“I’ll help you” he promised

You ended up deciding to tell the other teachers on account of the bets they had placed on you

But you asked them not to tell the kids

Hongjoong was comfortable dealing with them at this point and he didn’t see the point in subjecting you to the attention he got about it

Speaking of the bets

No one won any of them technically

The two categories were before/after Christmas break and you notice/he confesses

And since you confessed during Christmas break well

As tempting as it would have been to say that you two deserved the money

(Especially on those teacher salaries)

You just made Wooyoung give it back to everyone who had put money down

And honestly? Very little about your at school dynamic changed

The kids still teased Hongjoong every day about his obvious soft spot for you

But he didn’t care because he knew better than they did anyway

You did actually start to notice now that kids were gossiping about you and Hongjoong

And it was really funny actually

Especially when he stopped by your classroom and the kids went dead silent watching you

Or when you left his classroom and you heard the kids explode with their weirdo little preteen comments from just outside in the hallway

Wooyoung insisted on telling you about every time you were mentioned in his classroom

This included the story about the girl rejecting a boy because quote no one can like anyone as much as Mr. Kim likes Miss (L/N) enquote

And you about died from laughter and embarrassment

Because how had you missed every single sign thrown your way??

It was so obvious now that you were dating him and you knew why he spent as much time as physically and contractually possible in your classroom

Because like I said very little about your at school dynamic changed

He still treated you almost exactly the same way

Except now if you were having a bad day he could hug you and kiss you on the head and tell you that everything would be okay and you were a good teacher

And if he got cold he could come to your classroom and have you sit on his lap while you shared your blanket

You were very very careful with any displays of affection by the way like it was only behind a locked door that you would even dare

Because firstly unprofessional

A literal breach of the code of ethics more likely than not

And secondly what if the kids saw you???

The other teachers were whatever like you didn’t really want them to walk in on you either but at least they were other adults

But the kids???

There were already too many rumors flying around the school about you and they did not need a even whispering of confirmation

The end of that came of course when you got engaged like a year or so later idk and you showed up to school with a ring on your finger and the kids went wild

“Mr. Kim she has a ring!!!”

“Mr. Kim what are you going to do?? She’s gonna get married!!”

“Mr. Kim you must be heartbroken”

You had prepared for this together

You had known it was coming so you knew you had to be ready for the chaos it was going to cause

So you had decided that he would also start wearing a ring to match even before the wedding

So to all his very concerned students he got to hold up his hand and say in the coolest most chic manner possible

“And who do you think gave her the ring huh?”

It was like setting off a nuclear bomb of middle school gossip but it was so worth it

Anyway breaking the chronological flow going back in time because this needed to be the last scene

The cutest change with your at school dynamic now that you were dating was now you could exchange secret messages on sticky notes with the papers you traded

He started it by handing you a test key to check with a sticky note on the top that you assumed was a label for what the test was

But on closer inspection it was a pickup line

“The limit of my love for you is like the limit of 1/x as it approaches 0; it doesn’t exist”

So you wrote back on the same sticky note “well mine is like 1/x^2 and it approaches infinity so there” and handed it back to him once you checked his key

Not to be outdone he wrote you a new note

“Girl are you a 30° angle inscribed in a circle because you’re acute-y pi”

Oh that one was bad

You had to give him something worse

“If we’re both math teachers, how come we have so much chemistry?”

You handed him that one in between classes

And as he read it he had to disguise his sudden laughter as a cough because there were kids around and they didn’t need to be curious about what he was laughing at

His next sticky note had a crease down the middle horizontally

128√e980

You recognized it immediately but you folded it in half to reveal the secret message anyway

“I love you”

So you gave him back “I hope you like fractions because you’re my other half”

You stored all these away in a little file on your computer titled “Valentine’s Day Math Jokes”

Maybe for some future Valentine’s Day activity

But mostly just to keep them all somewhere safe where you could look at them any time you wanted

Without some kid being like “oooh Miss (L/N) whatcha lookin at”

Your favorite note from him was about as simple and dorky as they came

Much like Hongjoong himself actually

Simplify 2x+6i<2(x+9u)

First you distributed the 2 on the right

2x+6i<2x+18u

Then since there was a 2x on both sides, you could subtract them and cancel them

6i<18u

Then divide by 6

And the answer made you smile every time

i<3u

(so I know how I wrote this so fast actually. I just have a goal to write 250+ words every day and uh pretty much every day of the month of January ended up dedicated to this one. Someone said Math Teacher Hongjoong and I (graduated in December with a math teaching degree, student taught in a middle school for 4 months) went feral over it whoops)

Masterlist

#ateez #hongjoong #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #atz #atz x reader #kim hongjoong

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wingedshadowfan · 4 months ago

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Hi! I've read some of your Arcane takes and I was curious to ask what do you think/how do you interpret Vi rejoining the enforcers after the breakup? I haven't read anyone doing an actual analysis on it, most people complain that she's "washed" or that the writers hate her, which doesn't feel like doing a deep dive into her character at all. Thank you! Have a lovely day.

ooh thank you for this ask!! i hope you have a great day too <33

i have a post (and a jokey joke) touching on why "vi's views suddenly changed" from her childhood disdain for enforcers to joining the hellfire squad.

here i'd like to also remind vi originally refused to join the enforcers after jinx bombed the council (caitlyn even seemed to understand/reflect on it in her conversation w/ jayce and apologized for offering it later on, despite having logical and utilitarian reasons for suggesting it - "no matter which way i slice it, one of us comes back in a box"): vi accepted the badge and joined the hellfire squad, which was a specific mission/operation, not a full time position, only after the memorial massacre, where she saw how unprepared piltover was to handle what she thought was jinx/silco's goons and how powerless she was in that situation. and in those posts i don't even delve into her guilt for what jinx has done, her fear of losing caitlyn to jinx and her conversation with maddie, which also affect her decision but don't exactly answer your question:

why does she rejoin the enforcers after the breakup?

i have two answers and one of them is kind of a cop-out, so let's start there:

she doesn't.

i know she's an enforcer in league lore, but arcane lore (which overrides league lore) didn't explicitly show her becoming an enforcer. it showed us she was there in the strategy planning stage of the war with mel and jayce - this wasn't an enforcer-only meeting, and she was likely allowed to be there because of caitlyn and due to her fighting ability (the fact she's the only person we've seen wield the atlas gauntlets and wreak absolute havoc with them) and her desire to help.

during the battle for the hexgates itself, she wore the badge (which she also kept and wore in her pitfighter era, just flipped backwards) but no enforcers uniform. now, even if we make the argument that she was just dressed differently for other armor-related reasons, it could've still just been for that battle (bcuz there was no post-war indication of her being an enforcer).

i couldn't find it but i had another post where i talked abt why other zaunites, firelights and jinxers alike, put on enforcer uniforms when they joined the war, and the short answer is, again, ✨utilitarian reasons✨ in order to effectively fight in that battle for a chance at saving their lives but also all of humanity - bcuz viktor would not have spared the undercity lol - they needed to receive training, weapons/equipment, be easily identifiable, have some sort of shared identity for morale, be told the plan/battle strategy, assigned what to do, etc. they did not willingly, fully, effectively, ideologically or longterm become enforcers, and i think this was the case for vi too.

she joins the enforcers to try and change something.

if we take it that vi did join the enforcers longterm after the war like she does in league lore, and we only didn't see it because she was still grieving, then this could tie in with caitlyn's "are you still in this fight, violet?" - which i personally interpreted as caitlyn and vi using their influence and knowledge post-war to try and change the oppressive systems and institutions of piltover. i think such an effort is a great reason for vi to rejoin the enforcers. like, she can't live in the kirammam mansion and do nothing all day every day, right? at some point she needs to find her calling. she can oversee the enforcers and work to reform them from within. she's a character built on the idea of protecting others and fighting, so under the condition that she can enact change within the system, i think her place is there. it's autonomous enough that she doesn't feel like an extension of caitlyn, and it's close enough to her for comfort too.

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nihilsan · 1 year ago

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I think a lot about the way polydactyly is described in umineko ep1 because of the emphasis on the surgery to remove the extra digit often being done in early infancy (therefore without consent), with the intent of making the person "normal" while they grow up not even knowing about it...

of course this hints at sayo having her extra toe removed to hide her relation to kinzo, but I can't help but think about how it's specifically described in a way that evokes infant genital mutilation, especially considering sayo's backstory. all of her character reads like an allegory for intersex experiences imo, which also adds to her trans narrative. a major source of her suffering lies in how her gender struggles were complicated further by the reveal that her body was operated on without her knowledge, which led to sexual dysfunction and infertility.

the narration talks about the polydactyly surgery and reiterates the topic of bodily autonomy (already a big topic in umineko's first episode with the discussion of reproductive commodification of women's bodies) by mentioning how infants can be operated on to "fix" a part of their bodies to fit the idea of what "normal bodies" are like. the parallel to the mutilation of intersex bodies is very obvious to me. in sayo's case it was done as treatment for physical injuries rather than a literal intersex condition, but the narrative centering the violation of her autonomy persists with how she has her body altered and is denied the truth, having never had any means to cope with the inherent trauma of it all because the priority of genji&co was always to cover up anything that could implicate kinzo. she gets everything on her birth records falsified and she is intentionally kept in the dark about her own life. her entire personhood is erased. again drawing parallels to intersex experiences, doctors and parents will lie about it your entire life if they can get away with it. it's not uncommon to only find out you were operated on and/or forced on hrt as an adult!

even umineko's overarching theme about the nuances of truth vs magic can be read as an intersex narrative... it's a common experience to find out you were being denied your truth and made to live a lie "for your own sake". that truth may be unrecoverable and kept from you forever and all you can do is grieve it. your body is made into a catbox. I don't want to get too personal but some parts of confessions were chilling to read because of how similar they were to my experiences as an intersex person and I had never seen these very specific things portrayed anywhere. of course I can't claim to know the authorial intent, but it hit hard even as an allegory.

intersex and trans struggles aren't 1:1 the same but they have a lot of overlap, especially in regards to bodily autonomy, medical abuse and the gender assignment of bodies upholding a strict binary. trans people are denied transition while intersex people are forced through it, so a character like sayo who portrays that intersection of being both with such care is very precious. her struggles are strongly rooted in transmisogyny, intersexism, class and family, all which had her systemically disempowered, dehumanized and stripped of autonomy and agency.

her actions are a desperate gambit to gain some control over her own life, to be in charge of the narrative even if it's through selfdestruction. the horrors in umineko converge into the theme of systemic powerlessness and denial of autonomy. to be made into a piece. all of it combined makes up the multilayered meaning of furniture.

#umineko #umineko spoilers #◇#again crossposted from my twitter with only minor fixes so sorry about any awkward wording...

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1863-project · 6 months ago

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A Quick And Easy Guide To The NYC Subway System (Using The Battle Subway)

Our subway system is actually three separate systems that unified in 1940. To help myself remember which lines are from which system, I assigned each of the three companies to one of the categories from the Battle Subway.

The IRT - Interborough Rapid Transit - is the oldest of the three, making its inaugural subway run in October 1904. (It just turned 120!) The IRT tunnels are narrower, so the cars are narrower as well, and the car lengths are a bit shorter. This makes it most suited for Singles, and considering Singles is likely the oldest codified form of battling, it makes sense. Prior to running subway lines, the IRT ran elevated lines.

The BMT - Brooklyn-Manhattan Transit Company - came about a bit later. It was originally known as the Brooklyn Rapid Transit Company (BRT), but the BRT went bankrupt and reformed as the BMT in 1923. BMT tunnels are wider, so the cars are too, and they're also a bit longer. Its first subway line opened in 1908. (Prior to that, it, like the IRT, ran elevated lines, and also owned a number of surface lines and trolley lines in Brooklyn.) Since the BMT cars are wider, they naturally work better for Doubles.

The IND - Independent Subway System - is the youngest of the three and was actually owned by the City of New York. The cars are the same width and length as the BMT cars (again, wider tunnels), so they're good for battling with multiple Pokemon at once. I assigned Multi to the IND since it's the newest of the three and in-universe it just feels right for tag battle rules to solidify a bit later.

In 1940, the three systems were unified under the IND's operations, and a unified NYC Subway has existed ever since. Since the IRT cars are smaller than the BMT and IND cars, they're divided up into two divisions, A Division (IRT) and B Division (BMT and IRT). They all still run on standard gauge, though.

The chart in the image divides them up. The IRT is the numbered lines (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) and the 42nd Street Shuttle. The BMT is the J/Z, L, M, N, Q, R, and W lines and the Franklin Avenue Shuttle. The IND is the A, B, C, D, E, F, and G lines and the Rockaway Park Shuttle.

This is what I get paid to do at work, apparently.

#Pokemon #Submas #I like trains #NYC Subway

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months ago

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What do the second, third, and fourth officers do on the ship?

Hi, I need to expand a little on this. The first lieutenant is the officer next in rank and power to the captain, in whose absence he is accordingly charged with the command of the ship; also with the execution of all orders received from the commander as to the service.

The lieutenant in command of the watch at sea shall keep a list of all the officers and men belonging to it, to assemble them when he deems it expedient, and to report to the master the names of those who are absent from their duty. During the night watch he shall occasionally visit the lower decks, or send one of his subordinate lieutenants thither, to ascertain that the proper captains are on duty, and that there is no disorder among the men; that no tobacco is being smoked between decks, and that no fire or candles are burning there, except the lights which are in the lanthorns, which are under the superintendence of a proper watch for special purposes. These lieutenants (depending on how many are on board) are expected to remain on deck at all times during their watch to give the necessary orders to trim the sails and monitor navigation, but also to avoid noise and confusion.

In battle, the lieutenant must take particular care to ensure that all the men are present in their quarters, where they have previously been assigned in accordance with the captain's instructions. He shall order and admonish them everywhere to do their duty, and shall at all other times inform the master of the misbehaviour of persons on the ship and of anything affecting service or discipline. This means that each lieutenant has a division, a group of men under him, which he commands and looks after for their welfare. He passes these orders on to the midshipmen and NCOs under his command.

The whole system serves to improve efficiency and smooth operations on board and ensures a rapid chain of command.

I hope it helps you and sorry for taking so long to answer, I'm slowly working my way through the questions. As far as i am able to do it.

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whereisten · 2 years ago

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To Be Forgiven

FT: Suguru Getou & Nanami Kento

Pairing: Suguru Getou x Nanami Kento x reader Genre/Themes: sMUT! Convent (nuns and priests), angst Warnings: Threesome - F/M/M, vampire priests, loss of virginity, praise kink, light BDSM (rope use, spanking) overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), rough sex, blood mention, gaslighting, devotion, voyeurism, degradation, dumbification, creampie, character death, vampire priests Word Count: 8.8k

A/N: WELL... this is probably the dirtiest thing i've ever written, and I know its not kpop or nct based so im sorry for that. It was HEAVILY inspired by these two posts: https://x.com/polariae/status/1722684591079673876?s=20 https://x.com/kimmy_art0912/status/1721731893622714594?s=20 (so please take a look to get a good image in your mind before you start reading hehe the artists are amazing) Also, this in no way is meant to offend Christianity or the world of Catholics, the theme is only used for fantasy. Sorry if it's a little messy, i just had to get it out of my system. Dont forget to leave a comment if you like it! Thank youuuu xoxo

Freedom felt good. That’s what you thought to yourself the moment you stepped off the bus and onto the new convent you’d be living the rest of your life in. You’d finished college, graduating as you set out to do and now came the next step: devoting your life to Christ.

Your parents didn’t understand your desire to live this way, but they supported you nonetheless. With tearful eyes, they bid you farewell and swore to stay strong until the next time they’d see you.

You drag your luggage to your room and sit down on your bed, inhaling and exhaling the fresh air slowly.

“Hi! You’re new here!” A woman dressed in her holy tunic stands in the middle of your open doorway, her hands placed in front of her as she smiles.

You smile back. “Oh..yes! I just got here actually.”

“That’s wonderful, welcome to our home, my name is Khadija and I hope I can help you at some point, my room is a few doors down if you ever need anything!” She waves as you nod.

“Thank you, my name is Y/n.”

She nods as well and walks away.

A few days later, you’ve started speaking with other nuns in an effort to gain an understanding of how things normally operate.

“At 8 A.M, we have breakfast together and then continue our studies in our assigned classrooms. Should you need anything, I am always here.” Sister Nancy, your neighbor, walks with you to breakfast. She guides you through the convent and provides helpful information.

While at breakfast you try to get to know her better. “How long have you lived here?”

“Hmmm…time has sort of..run away from me…” she looks puzzled as she stares at her bowl of oatmeal. Almost as if lost in thought, her voice trails off and eventually becomes silent.

“Sister Nancy?”

“Oh! Yes..about 5 years.” She nods and looks back up at you. Once at the end of your breakfast you stand up and bring your trays to the cafeteria where you can toss any trash.

“Sister Y/n..” Nancy says quietly while walking beside you.

“Yes?” You look at her curiously.

“I must tell you..when you study, when you learn how to best serve God here..please be wary..”

“I’m not sure what you mean..” your brows bunch together.

“Well..the priests here are great, devoted and caring..but there are some who..may not have good intentions.”

You place your trays down and walk together in the hall towards your rooms.

“Men of the cloth are always good, Sister Nancy, what do you mean by this?”

“They should be good..but they are not, be careful and stay steady in your faith, do not lose sight of your goal..”

She stops while you continue walking.

“But Sister, who-?” You turn to look at her, but suddenly, she is gone, not even the breeze from her departure surrounds you.

You stare into the hall. “Sister Nancy?” You call out, but it is empty and eerily quiet. You turn back towards your room and bump into a large chest.

“Oh!”

You stumble backwards, but the tall, sturdy figure grabs your arms to hold you still.

“I am so sorry..”

You look up slowly.

The man has long black hair, feline-like eyes and a tempting smile. You quickly look away and onto the floor as your mind starts to desire more than just this embrace.

He chuckles and it’s like angels have started to sing from heaven. “My apologies, I should’ve walked more carefully.”

He finally lets you go.

“You’re new here, right?”

You look back up at him, a strand of hair gracing his beautiful face perfectly as he smiles.

“Y-yes..I’m Sister Y/n..please forgive me for-“

“Ahh no need, Sister Y/n..please continue..my name is Suguru by the way, if you need anything, just let me know..” He steps to the side to let you pass, but never lets go of your wide eyes.

You wondered how such a young man could become a priest. He looked dark and mysterious, unlike any of the other priests you’d seen before.

[The Next Day]

You’re heading to your first class where you’ll be taught by Father Nanami. You sit down in your chair comfortably before looking around to see if you can find Khadija and Nancy. To your disappointment, they aren’t there.

Then, he walks in. The blonde man with small glasses makes your jaw drop. He is just as tall and young as Father Suguru, but he looks stern and serious.

He places his books down and looks around at the class. “Welcome, let us begin, please open your pages to the verse written on the board.”

He sounds just as strict as he looks, no “good morning” or “how are you?” He jumps straight into business.

He is also your personal counselor, but you aren’t sure if you’ll be visiting him often.

Later that day, you go apple picking with Sister Khadija.

“Would you like to tell me of your life before you chose Christ?” Khadija asks, gently picking a ruby red apple from above her head.

“Sure! I was happy..I graduated college and felt I’d done it all..but somehow, I still felt empty. Then one day, I overheard a sermon on the radio..and I felt..I felt this urge, a calling, rather. I felt the need to participate in something much bigger than myself, and so I decided to devote my life to Him.”

Khadija smiles. “That’s very nice.”

“And what about you?”

“Oh..I..don’t quite remember, but yes, I did feel the calling as well.”

You nod slowly, then smile quickly to cover up your worry. How could she not remember?

“That’s great!”

As you’re walking back with baskets full of apples, you turn to her. “I didn’t see you in Father Nanami’s class today, do you have a class with another priest at that time?”

Khadija stops, dropping her basket as her eyes widen. “Wh-who’s class?”

You kneel down and begin to gather the apples that fell out. “Father Nanami..is everything okay, Khadija?”

She dips down to pick her basket up. “I’m sorry, Sister Y/n, how clumsy of me.”

“It’s okay! I-“

“But Y/n, Nanami is not a great instructor..I would recommend another professor..”

She looks into her eyes as your hands touch while reaching for the same apple.

You frown. “He seems to be very serious about his work, I feel I can learn a lot from him.”

Khadija shakes her head. “He..is dangerous.”

You stand up straight and laugh. “Are his exams that bad? I figured he’d be a harsh teacher, but I look forward to the challenge!” You grip your basket and continue walking.

Khadija looks at you with a worried expression. She wished Nanami was a harsh grader, and nothing more, but unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

[One Week Later]

You step into Nanami’s office to ask a quick question.

“Father Nanami-“

Suguru stands next to Nanami’s desk, flipping through one of his books before gazing up at you slowly.

“Hello, Sister Y/n.”

You nod. “Hello! I’ll come by later.”

“Wait a moment, you can speak with me if you’d like.” He says smoothly before sitting in the chair.

“Oh..is Father Nanami not available today?”

Suguru smirks when he senses your unease. “He will be back in about an hour, what is it you’d like to ask him?”

“I-I’ll ask him tomorrow, it really is no problem.” You turn to leave, but he stops you.

“Are you enjoying your time here, Sister?”

He intertwines his fingers in front of him and places his chin on top.

You turn back to him and smile. “Yes..but to be honest with you, father, I’m not sure if I’m worthy to be here.”

He tilts his head slightly, a dark glimmer presents itself in his eyes..or are you just seeing things? “What makes you say that, Y/n?”

The absence of “Sister” from his sentence and the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you shudder, but the feeling quickly leaves you as you clear your throat.

You look to the floor. “I don’t know, it’s probably nothing more than nervousness.”

Suguru leans back. “Of course you are worthy, Y/n. Do not worry, Christ lives through you at all times.”

You look back up at him and return his smile. “Thank you, father.”

You leave and release a deep breath you'd been holding. Something about him made you..unsettled. You didn’t know why, but as you walk back to your room, you shake the feeling off, never noticing his eyes on you from the doorway.

A few weeks pass and you notice that you often see Father Nanami walking about the halls and chatting with other Priests or Nuns. Suguru is hardly ever around, but honestly, you didn’t mind it. The long-haired temptress reminded you of the sin that still resides in your heart. The sin of lust. You couldn’t deny it anymore, and it forced you to visit the chapel more often.

You could resolve this impure feeling if you just prayed and believed in your Lord.

Apart from that, your time at the convent was going well. You bonded with your Sisters, and learned from Father Nanami as well as your Bible.

Some nights, however, you wake up randomly with the doomed feeling of being watched.

“Hello?” You say quietly as you turn your bedside lamp on and peer out into the corners of the room. There’s nothing, there’s no sound. You only hear your trembling breath. There’s a slight chill in the air and it makes you grip your blanket tightly.

This would happen around the same time every night, but you brushed it off to you being nervous. After all, you’re in a new home, surely it would take some more time for you to get used to your new bed and room. You tried to brush off the thought that part of these strange occurrences had to do with your room being just a few feet away from a cemetery.

You couldn’t go back to sleep most nights so you’d stay up and read your Bible until the sun rose.

To make matters worse, you didn’t see Nancy or Khadija as often, you couldn’t talk to them about how your nights had been going.

[One Week Later]

You run into Father Suguru for the first time in a while. He was just leaving Father Nanami’s office when he collided with you while turning the corner.

“Oh!” He laughs, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle. Your heart weakens at the sight.

No. Remain firm.

“I am so sorry, Father Suguru.” You step back and bow slightly.

“It’s alright, Sister Y/n, how have you been doing? You look tired.” His smile falls when he notices how dark your eyes have gotten since the last time he’d seen you.

“Oh! Really?” You rub the side of your neck and look to the floor. “Is it that obvious?”

He nods. “What’s wrong? Are you having a difficult time here?”

You shake your head. “No..no it’s not that..it’s just-“

He steps closer, looking down on you intently with knitted brows.

“You see..I’ve been waking up…in the middle of the night..feeling strange.”

Suguru smiles slightly. “How so, Y/n?”

And once again, you felt anxious about his tendency to omit your title.

“It’s nothing, Father..I’ll be-“ movement behind him catches your eye. You see a nun now down the hall quickly.

Nancy.

“Sister Nancy! Wait!”

You call out, but she doesn’t stop.

You look back at Father Suguru. “I apologize, sir. I must be going.”

He nods and watches as you walk by him.

You run after Nancy who quickly turns a corner. “Wait!” You try to call after her again, but once you turn the corner, she’s gone.

Things were getting weird and you didn’t know why. The sudden disappearances, the disturbing stillness and chill at night, it all made you worried.

That night, you wake up as usual, but this time, you finally see a figure. You aren’t sure if you should feel relieved or frightened at the sight.

You turn your lamp on before turning back to her. “Sister..is everything okay?”

Sister Khadija stands at the foot of your bed with dark circles under her empty eyes. Her lips are gray and her hair is unkempt. You’d never seen her like this before.

“W-what’s wrong?” You sit up in your bed.

She only raises her hand and points to the window behind your headboard.

You stand up and look outside of it, but nothing is there, only darkness.

“Sister Khadija, what’s going-“ you turn back to look at her, but she’s gone.

Goosebumps engulf your skin as the room suddenly feels much colder. You open your door quickly to see if she has gone to her room, but no one is there.

You’re seeing things. You just need to sleep more, that’s all.

You close your door again and climb into bed. You clutch your blanket then reach for your Bible, praying that Sister Khadija is sleeping soundly in her room.

The next night, the same thing happens, but this time with Sister Nancy.

“Nancy-“ you wipe your eyes and focus on her face.

“You have to leave.” She says softly then runs out of your room.

You jump out of the bed and run after her, ignoring the fact that you’re inappropriately dressed in just your nightgown and running through the halls of the convent.

You run fast, trying hard to not lose her this time. You needed answers. Why were they both visiting you at night? What did she mean by “you have to leave?”

But after running for nearly 4 minutes, you finally lose sight of her. You stop and look around in hopes of figuring out which dark, gloomy hall you’re in. The walls are lit by candles, making it difficult to figure out, but you’re sure that you’ve never been in this particular corridor before.

*thump*

Your head flicks toward the end of the hall where a loud banging sound comes from.

You walk towards it and hear it again.

As you get closer, you also hear soft groans and whispers.

Your hand hovers over the door knob. Should you enter? What do you expect to see? Someone that could help you get back to your room?

Without much thought, you turn it and push the door open slowly.

Your eyes widen at the sight.

It’s Priest Suguru on a bed.

You gasp. He’s tied up with thick rope and completely naked. His head hangs low as he watches a nun’s head move on his lower half.

“Slower..yes..just like that.” His intoxicating voice fills the room. You step back and the sound of your foot just barely dusting the wood causes his head to snap up.

You cover your mouth.

His eyes are red and glow in the dim lighting of the candle lit room.

But what’s even more frightening is the blood that drips from the corners of his mouth. His chest heaves as he smiles wickedly. You tremble at the sight of two large fangs in his smile.

“Y/n…” he calls out softly to you. Your eyes refuse to leave his body. Your knees feel weak as a mixture of emotions flood you. Fear, confusion, lust- you become too overwhelmed to speak.

The Sister below him releases his dick from her mouth, causing a ‘pop’ sound to echo. She turns around to face you, her mouth drips with blood and her eyes glow as well. She wipes her mouth with her fist before standing up and walking towards the door.

You stumble backwards, your eyes still focused on Suguru behind her.

And then, the door slams in your face.

You snap out of your gaze, feeling your body experience a shock unlike anything you’ve felt before. What did you just see? Was it real? No, you had to be dreaming. Suguru, a holy man, would never—

The gorgeous sounds of his moans fill your head.

“Stop!” You say to yourself as your eyes grow teary.

You start running away from the door. You had to find your room, you had to repent immediately. How could your lustful mind conjure up such a degrading image of a priest? You’re disgusting, you’re unworthy of the Lord.

You pray you can be forgiven for your sin, but the sudden wetness in between your legs tells you that it may be too late.

———

[One Week Later]

Fortunately, you hadn’t seen Suguru since that night. You still weren’t sure if you dreamt it or not, but you begged God every night that it wasn’t real.

“Are you okay, Sister Y/n?” Father Nanami interrupts your thoughts. You look around the classroom to see you’re the only one still there.

“Oh! Yes, Father, I apologize..I’ll get going.”

“You look tired, get some sleep tonight.” He says before grabbing his briefcase and leaving.

“Yes, Father.”

That night, you tossed and turned. You had vivid dreams of the halls and the people you saw every day. Your dreams were more realistic than ever before.

You then start to dream of that dreaded night..but there is something different.

You feel your wrists are tied to your head board, your legs are pulled apart by large hands as you wiggle on your bed. Your nipples are perky, peeking through your gown, and you can feel your slit leaking.

You look down and see him. His hair is tied up and his upper half is naked.

Suguru crawls over you slowly.

You moan when you see his low gaze on your body.

He lifts your gown up and kisses your stomach with his pillowy soft lips. He works himselfvall the way down to your entrance. You can feel his hot breath fanning it.

“Father..please.” You close your eyes tightly and beg, and with just the sound of this one desperate plea, Suguru licks in between your slit.

Your back arches instantly.

Finally.

His mouth on you feels amazing, you can’t stop moving your hips in an effort to get more from him.

He grips your thighs tightly, pushing them even further apart to lick and suck all parks of you.

Your moans grow louder, your breathing becomes quicker, you’re so close.

He reaches up with one hand under your gown and caresses your breast.

“Look at me.” He demands.

You look down as he drapes your leg over his shoulder and licks at a faster pace.

You lock eyes with his red ones.

“Faster..faster..please..I need more.” You cry out.

And Suguru follows your commands all while watching you writhe under him.

And with one final flick of his devilish tongue, you cum.

Your eyes fly open, you jump out of your sleep while panting.

Another lustful dream.

How could you betray God like this? You can't control your urges, it’s becoming a distraction and a serious problem that needs to be dealt with.

You start to cry quietly and decide that it’s time to get help.

You get on your knees and begin to pray until the sun comes up for only God could banish these cravings and impure thoughts.

———

[The Next Day]

You visit Father Nanami after class.

“Hello..do you have a moment?”

“Yes, come in.”

You close the door behind you and sit in front of his desk.

“How can I help you, Sister Y/n?”

In your time at the convent, you’d never seen him smile, and you certainly didn’t expect to see it today.

He looks sternly at his laptop, awaiting your reply.

You swallow hard, where should you start?

“Father Nanami..I saw..Suguru the other night..he was..he was tied up and in a strange position and he…he was partaking in scandalous activities with another Sister..”

He stops typing and looks up at you over his screen.

“But father..the strangest thing of all is that his eyes were red and his mouth dripped with what I think was..blood..it was..it was terrifying.”

“And yet..you couldn’t look away..could you, Sister Y/n?”

Your eyes grow. Nanami saw right through you and instantly knew of your sins.

“Father..I’m so sorry, I must beg for forgiveness.”

He takes his glasses off and places them onto the desk. He shrugs. “Why?”

You’re confused. “Because..because I saw the devil and had impure thoughts, Father! I’ve sinned, I’m unworthy of being here.” You bring your hands to your face and start to sob in them.

“Shhhh..no need to cry, Y/n..simply beg for forgiveness and do as he says..”

You nod. “Yes, father, I will visit the chapel right away and live as God tells me to, I-“

Nanami chuckles. “No..no Y/n..beg him for forgiveness..”

“..him?” You look up slowly.

“Father Suguru is the one whose image your impure mind has desecrated without reason..surely, you don’t think what you saw was anything more than your lust taking form in a dream? You imagined Suguru as something completely opposite of who he is, and you need ask for his forgiveness as he is the human embodiment of God..we all are, isn’t that right, Y/n?”

“Oh..I see, I apologize for not understanding..I will go to him right away.”

Nanami nods. “Good girl.”

You look to the floor to not see his smirk. But you can feel it in his tone and it’s strange.

You go to Suguru’s office in the evening when everyone is leaving to prepare for bed.

“Father Suguru..?” you say softly, but feel worried as you stand in his doorway.

“Oh. Sister Y/n..it’s nice to see you.” He gives a sly smile.

You nod.

“Close the door.” He sets aside a few books and sits down.

Like before, you find it hard to get started, but know you must in order to become a better Christian.

“Father..I must confess and with this confession I hope that you will not change your perception of me..I-I hope you will forgive me and allow me to continue to grow in this establishment.”

“Sister Y/n..you don’t believe you are worthy of being here, so why should I believe it?”

Your mouth falls open.

A smug look crosses his face. “You’ve come here to ask for my forgiveness, but have you forgiven yourself?”

“Father..I-I don’t follow.”

“What is it you’d like me to forgive you for? For watching..for craving..for..wanting to not only feel the devil but to taste him as well?”

You step back and gasp. “Father! I would never-“

“Oh, Y/n..sure..I’ll forgive you, but I know that’s not the only thing you desire.” He stands behind his desk and holds his hands together in front of him, his grin never leaving his face.

“Father, I only wish to absolve myself of my sins and live purely. It is the goal that I-“

He waves his hand. “Sure..sure..but tell me Y/n..how did it feel?”

“H-how did “what” feel?”

He walks closer to you, making more and more hairs on the back of your neck raise with each step.

“The lust, the desire…the craving..”

“I-I don’t know..it felt..”

“Strange, right?” He smiles widely.

”I’ll forgive you if you’ll allow yourself to indulge in your fantasies tonight.”

“No!” You back away from him.

“My dear Y/n..these thoughts will only go away if you give in for just a moment.”

“So what I saw the other night..was real?”

“It’s as real as you want it to be, Y/n. Tell me..do you want to feel what it’s like to be tied up and at the mercy of another?”

You tremble.

“Hands can roam along your skin, press into your thighs and collect the slick building in between your slit..fingers part it to allow way for my tongue to taste you and draw out your long withheld moans. But I won't stop, not until you’ve really felt me inside, making you the perfect size for me, pushing every breath out of your body. Not until our bodies become one and you’ve cried out to God for release.”

“Father..” you breathe heavily, his lips just inches from yours.

“And with your hands tied behind you, you’ll have no choice but to bounce on me until I’ve said I forgive you..even if it takes all night..you’re mine to control. In every position, in every hour..we’ll gain a brief moment in heaven together..only then can your sins be absolved.”

You swallow hard.

“You watched the devil and you liked what you saw..are you ready to fuck him too?”

Suguru’s eyes become a deep shade of red.

“How can you say such obscene things? What are you?” You stare into his eyes.

“A servant of God..of course…but I’m also the one that can make you feel so..so good.” he places a hand on your neck and tilts his head.

“But you..you’re..”

“Yes..Y/n..go on..say it.” His eyes follow your lips.

“A demon..”

He chuckles and his eyes float downwards. “And you’re as wet as you were that night..so shall we?”

“How can you..live in the house of God?” You look up with wide eyes.

Suguru lifts one corner of his mouth. “You see..I use my abilities for good Y/n..just one night and I shall remove the impurities from your blood, would you like me to?”

You hesitantly nod. He takes you into his arms and cranes down to your neck.

You grunt at the sudden move.

He then digs into your neck, causing you to yelp, your head falls back over his shoulder. The pain quickly turns into a pleasurable feeling as he sucks your blood. Your body relaxes in his arms. He pulls away and tilts your chin toward his to kiss you deeply. It’s your first kiss, so he leads you into it, caressing your lips slowly, mixing your spit with your blood.

Your eyes close as you feel his tongue dance over your bottom lip. You relax more and more into his arms and embrace the feeling of his broad chest against your back.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes. “Do you wish to feel more? Do you wish to indulge your sins and be absolved of them thereafter?”

You nod, feeling your willingness to leave dissipate after his kiss. He smiles.

“Very good, Y/n.” He says before sucking again.

He takes you to a room lit with only candles.

He carefully removes your head cover and dress, then pulls his rope out from a closet.

He ties your hands behind your back, and continues to create intricate patterns across your body, making sure to kiss you every now and then. His cold fingers brush against your skin, sparking fires.

You feel vulnerable, but follow his every move and command as you kneel on the bed.

He removes his collar and lets his holy robe drop to the floor. You stare at his magnificent body causing him to laugh out. “The lust in your eyes is delicious” he puts his hair up in a bun, but a part of you wishes he’d let it stay down so you could run your hands through it.

You turn away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry father, I-“

He turns your face back to his and continues to kiss you. When he pulls away he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “Are you ready?”

You nod.

He lays down under you, fixes his face between your thighs and begins to eat you out as you cry out his name.

With his hands on your ass, he forces you to move back and forth onto his face. Your ankles are tied to the same rope that binds your wrists, forcing you to stay open.

“Father!” You cry out when you feel the tip of his nose rub against you. You rock your hips back and forth on your own.

More, you need more. That’s all you can think as his tongue explores you.

He groans against you, sending amazing vibrations through you.

“So sweet..your scent has driven me insane since you first stepped foot inside this convent..”

He groans and begins to buck his hips into his own cuffed hand.

He can’t wait to feel you around him, he can’t wait to drain you as you tremble and lose it all to him.

Suguru sucks your clit harder at the thought.

You yell out at the unexpected action and move faster.

Just then, Nanami walks in and stands at the end of the bed to watch.

“You really are trying to let God hear..”

You jump up and look at him, but Suguru digs his fingertips into your thighs to keep you still.

“Father Nanami! Please..forgive me.” You shut your eyes tightly, holding back your tears while cumming all over Suguru’s mouth.

Nanami palms himself through his jeans.

The casual look suits him very well, but you’re still embarrassed to let him see you like this.

He walks over to you, caressing your face with one hand and zipping his pants down with the other. “Shhh..open your mouth and all will be forgiven.”

He rubs his thumb along your bottom lip, gently pushing downward.

You do as he says, doing your best to fit all of him into your mouth. Laying your tongue out underneath it, you push forward and taste the saltiness from the precum leaking out.

Suguru kneels beside you on the bed and watches.

“Yes, good girl, you follow instructions so well.” Nanami removes his collar and shirt now too.

You choke slightly after feeling him hit the back of your throat, but you keep going, bobbing slowly as your spit builds.

Suguru now licks your nipples, eventually biting into one and sucking your blood once more. You groan from the pain, sending vibrations onto Nanami who grunts and curses.

He puts a hand to the back of your head and begins to thrust into you. Tears prick the ends of your eyes, you can barely breathe. If your hands were free, you’d use them to cover a few inches. If you could talk, you’d tell him to be gentler on you. But you take it all, knowing that you’d be forgiven if you bring both men satisfaction.

You moan as you feel your throat become raw.

“She’s being such a good girl..” Suguru smiles wickedly before licking up the blood around your wound.

Nanami finally releases along the bottom of your throat, choking you as tears fall onto your cheeks and your eyes become red. You wish he’d tell you you were a good girl, but the stoic man simply says “Swallow.” And looks down on you through laser eyes.

You do as he says, swallowing every drop and hoping that it will somehow purify your soul like holy water or wine.

He pulls out. “Ahh good girl..” he finally smiles, using his thumb to collect the spit that escaped and putting it back into your mouth. Suguru kisses you to taste yourself as well as Nanami. Nanami caresses his hair and your head as well.

“Am I forgiven, father?” You look up at him with wide eyes.

He looks down at your breasts and neck, aching to bite into you so he can grow hard again.

Suguru then kneels in front of you and begins to cup his hand around his member. The tip is red and dripping with precum, you stare but Nanami grabs your hair to pull your neck back.

“There’s so much greed and lust in your eyes, you’ll have to do much more than that to gain forgiveness.”

He pushes you down so you now face Suguru’s member.

“Open that filthy mouth of yours again.”

Nanami kneels on the bed behind you and begins to eat you out.

His tongue is lighter than Suguru’s, just applying kitten licks, but that somehow makes it hotter. You can’t help but move more in an effort to get closer to his lips.

Meanwhile, Suguru’s head falls back as you take him into your mouth.

He isn’t as patient as Nanami thrusts into you while groaning, causing a yelp to escape you. Your throat, still raw and irritated from being pounded into by Nanami, still closes around him well. He whimpers and places his hand onto the back of your head.

Nanami adds his fingers to open you up more and you throw your head back. “Father!”

“So wet and pretty..this tight pussy of yours needs to be made ready.”

He pushes in and out faster. You pull away from Suguru as Nanami’s fingers stretch you out.

“Slower, Father..please!”

“Focus on me, Y/n. It’s my forgiveness you should be seeking.” Suguru takes your chin in his hand and forces you to look back at him.

Nanami bites into your thigh, sucking harder and faster. You’re shocked to see that Nanami is the same as Suguru, but your focus shifts to the amazing feeling of being sucked from the area closest to your opening.

You quiver and clench around his fingers before moving up and down on them on your own.

Your moans send vibrations onto Suguru, and combined with the sight of your ass being up, he quickly cums in your mouth, leaving you a crying mess as he forces your head down. You choke while feeling the strings hit the very back of your throat once again.

You cum along with him, Nanami continuously pressing into a sweet spot. It feels too good to explain, but you know you’re too sensitive for more.

When he pulls out, you flick your head back to Nanami who continues to finger you.

“Father! I can't take any more.” You beg Nanami to leave your aching opening be.

You collapse into the bed and pant. Suguru laughs

“We’re just getting started sweetheart. You’re ours tonight, then you’ll be God’s forever.” He says as he ties a collar around your neck. He then unties the rope around your legs. He hands the leash to Nanami who sits against the headboard. He tugs you back, wasting no time to grab your thighs and spread you apart over his lap.

He forces you down onto him as you face Suguru. Suguru smiles again then flicks a thumb against your nipple.

In one move Nanami starts to enter you, causing you to squeal and attempt to run from the penetrative object , but he is just too strong.

“You know it’s her first time, be gentle, Father.” Suguru chuckles.

Nanami tugs your collar hard, “how could I forget? This pussy is reserved for God, isn’t it? the blood will be even sweeter if I go harder, don’t you think?”

“Hmm only one way to find out.”

Nanami pulls you down hard, burying everything inside you at once. You lift yourself up while in tears, but he grabs you again.

“Where are you going? You have work to do..take me in as you take God into your heart.” He smirks. “This is the Godly dick you’ve been craving, isn’t it?”

“T-too much, Father Nanami, I can’t take it.” Heated skin against heated skin, fingertips digging into your skin to leave a permanent impression and the way you can’t stop dripping for them, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You should feel shame, but you don’t.

“Tsk tsk..you need to prove yourself worthy, Sister Y/n..need I remind you of why?”

You shake your head, tears leaving your eyes as you are stretched out. “It’s my first time, father, I do not know-“

“Just relax and move..”

His hands are stable on the inside of both knees. He begins to bring you up and down onto him. “Yes..just like that.”

You’re wide open for Suguru to see, with just rope around your body. You should feel embarrassed, but there’s something building in the depths of your stomach.

Suguru looks you up and down and sucks your neck as you move. His large hands rest inside your knees to help you move up and down.

Nanami’s hand reaches around your waist, his fingertips part your folds and rub circles into your clit.

It feels amazing, you moan louder and bounce faster. “Father! I’m..I’m going to—“

“Yes, sweetheart, cum for me…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you want to stay still as you feel your climax rush over you, but Nanami continues to thrust into you.

Suguru releases and begins to touch himself again. “Ahh you taste so good.”

“Does she? Let me try.” Nanami pulls your collar, forcing your neck backwards. He bites in hard, still bringing you up and down on his member.

You whimper at the feeling, but shake soon after, cumming twice with just a few seconds between. You feel dizzy, you might pass out. But you also don’t want the men to stop.

Nanami keeps moving as you cry out, your head falling back even more.

You move faster to get his orgasm, he pushes you forward once he's done sucking, kneeling behind you to rail you from behind.

You feel the collar tighten as he pushes harder, forcing your face down into the bed.

“You should feel shame for cumming before me, the holiest servant of God, what makes you think you are higher than me?”

He pushes even harder, making you cry out loudly. “I’m so sorry, father! I didn’t mean to!” You turn your face to the side to breathe.

Nanami spanks your ass hard, causing a breath to leave you and you clench around him.

“All the more reason for this exorcism to take all night, isn’t that right Y/n?” Suguru looks at your strained arms, feeling himself grow unbearably hard with your sweet blood still on his tongue.

“Yes, father, I will do whatever you wish me to!”

Nanami pulls the collar and spanks your ass again. You grunt and close your eyes, you can’t stop clenching around him.

“More father..please, I deserve this.”

A snicker escapes him and spanks you repeatedly as he fucks into you hard, leaving you gasping for air with each thrust.

Suguru kneels beside him and watches while touching himself.

“I’m going to cum inside you, if you let a drop escape, you will have disappointed God. Do you understand?”

You nod. “Yes father. I will keep you in.” You squeal.

He holds your warm ass onto his pelvis as he cums deep inside you.

“Fuck..so fucking good.” Nanami curses while listening to your whimpers.

He then pulls out and leans down to make out with you. You’re enraptured by his aggressive kiss, it’s as if he wants to take every breath out of you.

Suguru licks up the blood that trickles down your leg and moans. “You were right, Nanami. It’s sweeter than the apples and berries outside.”

Nanami pulls away, watching the string of spit that connected your lips drop onto your chin.

“Then she’s ready for you. You’re welcome.”

Suguru laughs then wastes no more time to enter you.

“Suguru!” You cry out, hoping that he’d give you a moment to recover, but he only laughs harder.

“Come on, Y/n, you’re supposed to be ready for me.”

You cry into the sheets, but Nanami lays under you. He hugs your upper body tightly as Suguru fucks you just as hard as he did.

He sucks your neck, his fangs digging into another vein to pull out your impurities.

Your opening is silky and easy to move in, so it doesn’t take long for Suguru to cum again.

“Ah-ah…father!” You climax with him, seeing stars while Nanami drains you.

Suguru pushes everything inside you as well, cursing as he watches you clench around nothing and shake.

Nanami slides out from under you and leaves the bed. You pant and roll over onto your back, hoping that you’d finally be forgiven and welcome into the convent after tonight.

Suguru unties your rope, allowing your body to be free.

However, he can’t get enough of your blood, sucking your wrist while you gather your sanity.

Nanami then pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jeans pocket. He sits

on the bed with his back on the headboard.

“Ride my thigh, sweetheart.”

You shakily get on your knees and put your hands together in a prayer position.

“Father..please grant me forgiveness..”

He blows smoke into the air and smiles. “It wasn’t a question. Come over here.”

You do as he says, crawling over his impressively muscular thigh and grinding against it. He watches you through half lidded eyes and the sight makes you clench. Something about his disheveled blonde hair and the cigarettes he presses in between his swollen peachy lips makes it all hotter.

Suguru lays down beside him and smokes his cigarette as well. “Look at her, a whore that thinks she will be absolved of her sins.” Suguru chuckles.

“In all my 300-something years of life I’ve never pitied anyone more.” Nanami takes a drag.

You continue to move back and forth, but a sense of worry crosses you. “Father..I..what must I do?” You whine.

Nanami looks down at his hard member, having grown quickly since drinking your blood.

You hurriedly move over it and grasp it in your hands. You may have grabbed it a little too hard as Nanami grunts. “Careful, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You carefully align it with your opening, but you’re too nervous to bring it any closer.

Nanami hands the cigarette to Suguru. He swats your hand away and grabs your waist, pulling you onto him with ease. You whimper, trembling as you adjust to his large size once more.

Your hands find his broad shoulders.

You begin to bounce slowly. “Is it good, sir? Can you forgive me?” It’s a genuine question but you can’t help but feel ridiculous after hearing the desperation in your tone.

Nanami’s eyes are focused on the way your bitten breasts move. Your velvety pussy glides onto him easily, but he needs more. More of your blood, more of your essence.

He flips you over onto your back and sucks your right breast as he fucks into you hard, moving the entire bed as you squeal.

“Too big!” You cry out after his animalistic move. He pounds into you without hesitation. Not caring if anyone heard the lewd sounds created by his thighs hitting yours, or the creaking bed hitting the wall repeatedly. The rush of your blood flowing from your tender breast and into his mouth as well as the sight of the muscular man in between your bender, sweaty legs makes you quiver.

“Now this!” thrust “..is how you take dick, Sister Y/n.” He smirks, pounding hard again.

“Oh God!” Your head falls back as you are stretched out. It’s painful, but you cannot escape Nanami. He sucks your breast and places one hand around your throat.

Your nails dig into his back as he drives you crazy.

“Yes, Y/n, tell God how good your sins feel.” He pushes harder.

You shake your head. “It is wrong to feel this good while sinning.” Your tears flow in a steady stream, you feel as though he may just rip you in two.

“Says who?” He grins wickedly.

Your mouth falls open, you don’t know what to believe anymore.

He stops moving, you look down with furrowed brows. “Do you want me to stop, Y/n?” The corner of his lip tilts up slightly as he already knows your answer.

“No-no, Father, please contin- Ah!”

Before you can even finish, he’s back inside your depths again, molding your pussy around him like he will forever own it.

“Open your mouth wider Y/n..” Suguru takes the cigarette out of his mouth and kneels beside your head, pushing his member into your mouth.

He enters your mouth, thrusting in just as deep as he did before. You gag and Nanami smiles. “I much rather hear you gagging like this.”

Suguru smokes nonchalantly as you are ruined by both of them. You feel open and raw, your mind is mush and you are beyond sensitive. Your hips hurt from being open and your arms hurt from being bound before, but somehow you feel amazing.

They both watch you lose your innocence, your purity, and are happy to be at the center of it all. The sorrowful look on your face as you do anything for forgiveness, your eyes wet with tears and your mouth open, chin covered in a mix of spit and their cum drives them both crazy. There is nothing on your mind except how to please them and yourself.

“Cum with me, let us enjoy this moment together.” Nanami squeezes his hand around your throat then rubs your clit with his fingertips again and you both cum.

Your voice becomes hoarse from yelling out their names all night. You press onto his abs as your eyes roll. Suguru pulls out to watch your wet lips overflow with a mixture of cum and spit.

“You fucked her stupid, Nanami.” Suguru giggles.

Nanami pulls out of you quickly before taking the cigarette from him.

“She’s even cuter now, isn’t she, Suguru?”

He sits back and watches as Suguru flips you over and grabs your leash, pulling your neck back as he fucks you from behind like a wild animal, moving so fast, all you feel is a vibration against your sweet spot.

“Mhmm our cute slut..don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. Just keep gripping me..fuck..that’s my girl.”

He pushes in and pulls out completely, watching as his dick drips with so much slick.

Nanami blows smoke out and leans back. “Ask the slut a few questions, see if she even knows her own name.”

Suguru pushes back in.

“Think you can just dream of these things and be forgiven, sweetheart?”

“Yes, father.” You grip the sheets beside your head, feeling as though you may lose consciousness at any moment. But the way Suguru makes you feel is too good to miss. You hope you can climax with him just one more time. Your body needs him, your pussy needs him.

“How badly do you want to be forgiven, will you please us all night long, is this pussy ours?”

“Yes, father.”

“You’re good at obeying, aren’t you?”

“Yes..father.”

“If you keep yourself from cumming, you’ll be forgiven, how does that sound?”

Your eyes widen, you look back at him and shake your head. “Sir..I don’t know if I can-“

He thrusts harder and pulls back.

“What was that?”

He leans over you, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Obey..me..Y/n..or spend an eternity in hell.”

“Yes..father I will obey you!”

And this would’ve been possible had his fingers not been playing with your clit, you’re in tears as you try to hold back.

You feel his sweaty abs flex against your back, you hear his low and loud groans.

His hot breath fans the back of your neck.

You can’t possibly hold back.

Then, he bites into you, sucking your neck, drawing out blood to cause even more pleasure. “Father! Please! No more! If you do, I’ll-“

He moves his fingertips faster.

You cum and shake, unable to hold yourself back. Suguru laughs and cums as well, holding your ass fast against his hips.

“Ahh I guess we’ll just have to keep going until she proves she is worthy of forgiveness, Father Suguru.” Nanami smiles.

Suguru falls back onto the pillow while Nanami drags you by the waist and down into the bed beside him.

You hang your head low in embarrassment.

“Why so sad Y/n? We’ve got all night to absolve your sins.” Nanami says as he enters your sopping entrance once more. Suguru lights another cigarette and blows the smoke into your face before kissing you and fondling your breasts.

“Fa-“

“Huh?” He thrusts into you from behind. “Can’t hear you..”

“Father-“ you go weak, your eyes closing tightly as you are overstimulated.

Nanami holds you close, thrusting into your weak body while he chases another high.

“Yeah..sound it out, baby.” He chuckles lowly into your ear.

He bites into your shoulder, not caring just how much blood they’ve taken from you tonight, only caring for the euphoric feeling that comes from it. Blood rushes into his mouth and straight to his dick every time, the ecstatic feeling is just as good..maybe even better than an orgasm.

He moves his fingers onto your clit and you let out a high pitched moan.

You cum again with him, this time ruining the sheets, but he only touches your chin covered in drool.

“Good girl..”

Suguru drags you back over his lap, “Move pretty girl..don’t disappoint God..again.”

He angles you over his dick and slides you down.

You move up and down onto him despite being so tired you might pass out.

Suguru only drags a smoke and hands it to Nanami as they both watch your tired body bounce, your fucked out face, swollen breasts and neck riddled with bite marks.

“Tell us how good it feels.”

“So good..father.” Your hands run down his chest, caressing the soft bricks under his skin.

“Is that why you can’t stop cumming like a slut?”

“Yes father.” Your head falls back, you move faster, the building in the pit of your stomach grows.

“Are you gonna cum again for me?”

“Yes father”

“Beg for it.”

“Let me cum with you father!”

“Why?”

“I wish to rid myself of sin with you.”

He can’t help but laugh.

“Please father, I need you.”

“Of course, Y/n.” He grabs your wrist, sucking hard while still watching your breasts move.

You both climax hard, shaking while still being attached.

You lay down in between them, feeling Suguru’s lips on yours and his fingers inside you, pumping in and out as you squirm from the oversensitivity.

You try to close your legs but Nanami forces them apart by placing them on the outside of his strong hands.

“Tell God how good you feel.” Nanami bites into your thigh and sucks as Suguru bites into your neck. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “So good..” The combination of the two along with Suguru’s long fingers makes you cum so hard you black out.

——

[The Next Morning]

You’re back in your room with your nightgown on.

“What happened..was it real?” You rub your eyes and turn to sit on the edge of your bed.

You feel your body, but don’t feel any bite marks. You don’t feel any difference in your private area either.

“Oh..it was just a dream.” You hang your head low and look to the floor, you then see two feet as someone stands just in front of you. Your head flicks up. “Sister Khadija?”

She wears her nightgown and displays a sad expression. She was the same one who pointed outside that one night, but you never did see her again.

“I told you..” she points outside the window again. You turn to look, “told me what?”

You turn back to her, but she is gone again.

You get up and look outside the window, trying hard to see what she is pointing to. The cemetery that you always prayed over before going to sleep looked the same as always, except..there was a freshly dug grave.

You run outside and decide to look at the headstones and sure enough, the names of the two Sisters you met are there.

Nancy and Khadija.

They've been dead..for 5 years.

“No..no this can’t be true.”

You stumble back, tripping over a pile of dirt and falling to the ground. When you look at the headstone behind you that the dirt has been dug from, you see your name.

Khadija appears. “Sister Y/n..they killed you, just as they killed us and now you are here forever..” she tears up as she watches you cry.

“No..no that can’t be true, they helped me purify my soul, I am good, I am worthy now.”

She shakes her head. “Sister Y/n..a night with the devil will not absolve you of your sins…you know this..”

You look to the ground.

“But..but why did they-“

“No, Sister, the question is why did you?”

Suguru and Nanami fed on your body until you dried out, leaving you for dead, and now..this is your hell.

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