#+some class notes from a photography lecture

[janemerkin]

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Submission

Photography Professor!Fem!Reader x subby!student!Wanda

Word count: 1,060

Warnings: student teacher relationship, established relationship, W submits to R

Her eyes watched you from afar twice a week. Green emeralds trained on you as you walked back and forth talking about various photography methods. Today was specifically about filling a frame and how to do so properly. 

As you continued to impart your knowledge on framing techniques, you couldn't help but notice how Wanda's dedication shone through her unwavering focus. Her presence in the classroom was a testament to her commitment to the craft. Her every movement calculated and deliberate, as if each second spent in your lecture, was a precious opportunity not to be squandered.

You knew some of these students were taking this class as an art elective, but  this semester you had a good amount of actual photography majors one of them being Wanda Maximoff whose eyes don’t leave you the entire three hours of your lecture.

During the breaks, while other students dispersed, Wanda remained rooted in her seat, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on fascination. It wasn't just admiration; there was something deeper in those emerald eyes, a hunger for knowledge, perhaps, or maybe a recognition of a kindred spirit in the realm of photography. 

You looked through your papers and notes while snacking on something that required one hand. Today, you had a small bag of popcorn, and you noticed she had some apple slices today, which made you smile. She was behaving and listened to you when you told her that she should have healthier snacks during classes. 

As it came up to the last hour of class, you began talking about a photo contest that everyone was welcome to enter into. You always loved contests and competitions. You especially loved seeing everyone’s submissions and the different approaches they would each take to different competitions.

“Alright class I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough. I’ll be passing out flyers for you to look over. The deadline is next Friday for the Fine Art Photography Competition. So, if you wish to participate, please hand in your photo to me before then, and if you’re picked, we will be going to Germany on an all expense paid trip. Your photo to be displayed for art critics and lovers alike to take notice of you. If you are chosen for some of you, this could be your big break into the art world.” You tell them, your heels clicking as you walk back and forth, your dark grey cardigan flowing behind you. 

“Is there any specific theme we need to work with?” One of your students, Jean Gray, asked with a raised hand. 

“No, so please, I implore you to work with your strong suits if you want to enter. The sky is the limit on this. Your eye and imagination are what will hold you back, but I believe in all of you.” You told them confidently and finished up answering any other questions before dismissing them for the day. “I will see you all on Tuesday. Have a good weekend, everyone.” 

They all filed out as you sat back at your desk, pushing your glasses up on top of your head as you look at the papers on your desk, reading through the students latest works and quizzes from Tuesday that needed to be done by next Tuesday along with ones needed tomorrow for your Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes. You hear a pair of boots walking towards you. You don’t have to look up to know who is standing in front of you,

“Yes Wanda can I help you?” You say keeping your gaze on the papers in front of you, marking them as you go and looking at the photographs that go with the assignments. Grading art, even after going through getting your Master of Fine Arts and teaching for a few years now, grading artwork wasn’t always so easy.

“Ms. Y/L/N...” You flick your eyes up just enough to see she’s playing with the hem of her skirt, pulling it up ever so slightly as she does so. You take your eyes off her thighs that you just want to bury your face in. You know better, though; not here, never here. Now she’s pulling her sleeves over her hands as she begins. “I...I want to enter the competition, but...” Her words trail off as you finally huff out, tearing your eyes away from your paperwork.

“Wanda. Words. Use them.” You say a little frustrated with her. You see her bite her lip, and for you that’s strike three of her anxious habits. “Come here.” You command, moving yourself back from the desk, turning your chair to the side so she can stand in front of you, which she does without need for more words. “Kneel.” You tell her, and she does so. You smile at her easy submission to you. She had always been so pliable for you. “There now that you’re where you belong. Do you feel better?” You ask, tilting her chin up so her eyes meet with your own.

“Yes.” She smiles up at you, you can see how she’s calmed just from the small form of dominance over her, sometime it was all she needed for her head to clear up and the thoughts to quiet down even if it’s only for a little bit.

“Good now, what is it about the photo competition that’s bothering you so much, sweet girl?” You ask, running your fingers through her hair as she sets her chin against your thighs. She gently tilts her head so she can look up at you.

“Well my specialty like yours is boudoir photography. Is it okay to submit something like that?” You smirk, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, letting your nails scratch gently at her scalp. She closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling.

“Yes just not too risky, okay, pretty girl? Also, the picture better not be of you. Your body is my eyes only.” You tell her, and she smiles with a nod. “I need to get back to these papers and you,” You boop her nose, “need to get to your next class so off you go little one. I’ll see you tonight.” She smiles, getting up. You pull her back in for a chaste kiss before letting her head off with the promise of seeing you later.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

Despite the apartment being a dream come true, almost too good to be real, you find it hard to settle in. Something has you uneasy. You know how life goes. There’s going to be a kick in the mouth at some point. 

You’re still waiting for it the next day. You shower and dress before you head off to campus. You wear your favourite getup; not that you have much variety. Jeans, vans, and a plain tee under your grey denim jacket. It gives off the vibes that you don’t give a fuck, yet you really have a lot of fucks to give. 

First on the docket is your most dreaded. The Business of Photography. You’re sure it’s practical but you’re also not the best at logistics. You’ve looked over the syllabus and there’s a whole unit on accounting. Gulp! 

You follow a group of girls in uggs and barrel jeans into the lecture hall. One look from the blond with the high ponytail girds you way from attempting to ingratiate yourself. Flashbacks of high school have you finding a seat well on the other side of the room. 

More students siphon in and the room grows raucous as their voices rise to the high ceilings. You sit with your head down, scrolling on your phone. Oh! You forgot. You bring up Auburn’s convo and type in a quick hi. You haven’t heard from her since right after you parted the day before. You wonder how her classes are going. 

You black the screen of your phone and put it face down. You lean back in your chair and flutter your fingers impatiently. Your ears are starting to itchy from the sheer volume of your peers. 

The overhead speakers scuff and a deep voice fills the hall. “Shut the fuck up!” 

The silence that falls over the rows of students is so stunned you almost laugh. What you overheard amidst the cacophony was way worse and you had half a thought to tell them the same. You peer down to the front of the hall and wince. You knew that voice was familiar... 

“Now that I have your attention,” your landlord lets go of the microphone and stands straight at the podium. “I’m Professor Hansen. Professor Mason has gone on a sabbatical so here I am to pick up his mess. This is--” He pauses, seemingly annoyed at even being there. He pulls his phone and squints at the screen. “The business of photography? Good fucking luck.” 

He’s unbothered that his last comment echoes in the speakers as plain as day. You hide your mouth behind your hand. It’s not funny. It’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit. That being here is like plucking hairs from that mustache of his, yet, his agitation is entertaining. 

“Alright, which of you is gonna get up here and get the slides going?” 

There’s hesitation and students look back and forth, hoping anyone is brave enough to sacrifice themselves. There’s no volunteer. Hansen’s sigh wafts over the mic. 

“Four-eyes,” he points and snaps at the front row. “You look like you play League, get your ass up here.” 

The skinny boy in the front row stands, hesitating before he gets his footing. He crosses to the podium as Hansen snaps his fingers again and stomps his foot. “Chop chop, Revenge of the Nerds.” 

Ooh. You haven’t seen that in a minute. You know for damn sure it aged like lettuce.  

The class is silent as the unlucky soul assists Hansen in setting up the projector. You can hear the little snipes through the microphone. What a start to a class. It only dawns on you as the slides flash onto the screen that this is weird. You’re taking a class with your landlord. Should you switch sections? 

“Alright, hey, Poindexter, take a seat,” Hansen chirps and points the skinny coed back to the front row. “Let’s get started.” 

He swipes up the clicker and goes to the next slide. He groans, “really? Look at this shit. I’m no artist but the composition...” he stares up at the projected slide. “Holy fuck. Alright, write this fucking down.” 

He tosses the clicker. 

“Business isn’t fucking pictures. Business is numbers.” A murmur ripples through the classroom and Hansen leans into the mic again, speaking directly into it. “Did I say you could fucking speak?” 

You snort into your palm and keep it flush to your mouth. You shouldn’t laugh. It’s really not funny. You lean your chin into your hand and focus on keeping your amusement locked up. 

“Back to business. Literally.” He says, “and that’s how you fucking use that word, girlies. Your little feels, those aren’t ‘literal’,” he mimics a California bleach blond in the last utterance. 

There’s an uncomfortable shift in the seats. You huddle down as much as you can. As funny as this very crass and unprofessional lecture might be, you really don’t need to be noticed. Especially considering you could very easily bring any drama home with you. Would that be literally? 

Hansen continues on in his lecture-slash-diatribe. He might be blunt and at times condescending, but he knows what he’s talking about. He dismisses the class with a ‘you can go now’ and slams shut his laptop. He definitely is not happy about this spontaneous assignment. 

You’ve never seen college students move as fast as they do in that moment. There’s a low buzz of voices, too afraid to rise over a whisper, and the rustle of skirts and jackets, the squeak and scuff of sneakers. You sidle along the row, penned in by those closer to the center aisle. 

You come out at last and as you head for the rear door where everyone else is streaming toward, that deep timbre rolls over the hall again. 

“Ashley,” Hansen calls out. Several girls turn around in dread as the professor calls out the common name. “The one dressed like Cobain, get down here.” 

You lift your foot to the next step and stop. The rest of the girls quickly flee. You think he forgot your name. You turn and point to yourself with your thumb. 

“Me, sir? It’s Ash,” you explain. 

“Don’t give a fuck, come here.” 

Great. How the hell did he sift you out of the sea of students? You slowly descend as he lifts his bag from the table and crosses his arms. He approaches you around the other side of the podium. 

“So?” He prompts. You stare back at him dumbly. “The apartment?” 

“Oh, yes, it’s awesome. Thanks.” 

“Sure the fuck it is. All the work I put into it. Look, was gonna drop a notice but I’ll just tell you now. I need to check the alarms. City bylaw.” 

“Right,” you nod. “Okay.” 

He narrows his eyes, “I need your schedule.” 

“My schedule?” You wonder. 

“Fine, I’ll just fucking walk in, I don’t care.” 

“Shit, sir, I mean... I just, okay, like I didn’t know what you meant. Fu—shoot,” you take out your phone. “I’ll send you a screenshot.” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Now get the fuck outta here. I’ve had enough of you college girls,” he growls. 

You nod and turn back up the steps. As you ascend, you mutter to yourself, “my fucking pleasure, sir.” 

He huffs, “fucking heard that.” 

You freeze and cringe at the doors ahead of you. 

“Like I said, have a good day, sir,” you turn back to wave then quickly flit out. Well, that went horribly. 

[alexislifesblog]

Will you be my muse? Nanami x Y/n

Part one 630 words

Author note : Hey guys :), its my first time posting any sort of writing so bear with me . I wanted this to be a slow burn so buckle up !! Let me know if you want other people from any fandom bc i watch everything like obx and regular shows . DONT COPY !!!!! ‘’Can you be my muse? ‘’ His POV  She is like a star, in many ways. She lights up the room with only her voice. Her harmonic voice slid off her tongue with ease. Her voice always came off matter-factly, making everyone quiet down and listen. It was like she spoke a different language from the rest of the world. One derived by kings and queens. Her effortless fashion made her stand out. Her curly hair was always in a formation that made it seem like she woke up. And the worst part of it all was that I did not even know her name. My heart yearned for her. My head tense up at just a mere look at her. She was tantalizing but also a stranger. I know we have mutual friends but still. I look at her from a distance, admiring her from afar. Wondering what we could be if I had come up to her. I snap out of my trance as I realize she is coming my way  Her POV  Study Study Study. That has been on my mind all week due to finals for all my upcoming classes. I walk into the lecture hall. The sound of my heels clicking on the ground draws everyone to look at me. I spot the face of a new student. My friends told me that his name is Kento Nanami, the name has been rushing in and out of my head all week long when I should be focusing on school... You know, the stuff that matters. As I walk down the aisle my eyes continue to zero in on him. His perfect hazel eyes and neat sleek hair with a bang are getting in the way of his vision. Cute… Why not just come up and sit next to him? What's the worst that could happen?  ‘’ Hey, may I sit here? Some guys stole my seat “‘ I say while pouting my glossy bottom lip. My gel nails tapping at the seat right next to him. ‘’ Yea sure ‘’ His voice had a husky timbre. One reminiscent of waves crashing into rocks.  ‘’ So…. What's your name? ‘’ I ask a question that I already know the answer to.  ‘’ My name is Kento Nanami . What's your name ?‘’ He says with a kind smile that instantly makes my heart warm. The sun from the window pours into his eyes. His hints of green and orange remind me of a woodsy forest. I fall into them and it seems like I have known him for an eternity… ‘’My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you Kento! ‘’ I beamed while reaching out my hand. As we shake hands I feel his callus ones rub mine. The electricity from our palms teased my brain. My heart beckons to know more about this mysterious man. I need to know him. I cannot go on with my life until we become more. I walk around the desk to sit. Putting everything on my desk. Camera, Notebook, Air pods, Lipgloss. I aggressively dump my whole bag onto my desk. I forgot one of the most important items. I forgot my pencil case. ‘’ Im a dumbass ‘’ I say under my breath.  I hear someone snicker on teh right side of me. I see the boy smirking at me trying to hold in a laugh.  ‘’I'm sorry is this funny to you .?!’’  “‘ Kinda..Why don’t you just have one of mine  “‘  ‘’ OMG! Thanks, you are  a lifesaver ‘’  He hands me one of his perfectly sharpened pencils. ‘’Any time, you can keep it ‘’  I quickly grab the pencil and sit down in my seat as I realize my photography professor has walked into the classroom.  RING RING RING  Class has started

STAY TUNED FOR NEXT ONEE

[rentheebee]

skater blues chapt 1

Chapt 1- dashi

summary- Go through Dashis routine through her visits to the rink!

Note- I know literally nothing about roller skating and ice skating so things might be wrong. Cross posted on AO3 link at end of chapter

Dashi loves two things. Photography and rollerskating.She was proud of her skill. It took her years to learn. She's taken to teaching her...less than graceful friend/roomate.

Dashi walked into the building her bag slung carefully over her shoulder. She walked to the rinks locker room; took her skates out of the bag and shoved her stuff into the locker.

-

Shellington, Dashi's best friend, watched her skate trying to figure out just how she stays standing on the skates.

He could barely handle getting into the rink without falling flat on his tail(ouch!). How could she possibly stay up when moving. Maybe it was the way she moved? Because her tail was a lot smaller than his?

Ugh he was more cut out for sitting in the college library studying the rows and rows of biology books. Or in their shared apartment watching crappy sitcoms.

Meanwhile Dashi was wondering how to convince Shellington(or as she dubbed him Shelly) to just try one more time.

Dashi skated over and stopped by Shellington. "C'mon Shelly you won't get better by just sitting and sulking! Practice will help, especially with help from someone who knows their way around what they're doing!" Dashi tries to sound enthusiastic so that he wouldn't see how nervous she was about both teaching and how Shellington seemed terrified at even the idea of the skates.

"You make it seem so easy. Like you're not supposed to fall or be bad at it."

"Practice helps trust me I wasn't as good when I started. I'm sure either ma or Koshi has a video of how bad I was. But that was when I first started." Dashi encourages hoping he'd understand how no one starts perfect.

"Fine" 

Dashi helped him up(not without a few slips on Shellys end) and scooted them over to the inside of the rink. "Alright champ you ready to give it a whirl?"

-

Dashi got back to the apartment while Shellington wandered off to one of his later classes. Classes she believed seemed boring. She could admit the topic might be interesting but the actual act of learning all that stuff seemed tiring. 

Not that she doesn't like learning but biology isn't her thing. Having Shelly ramble was enough.  She learns so much just from that so why sit in lecture after lecture when she gets a compact version at home. 

She loves his rambles and he loves hers. She supposes that it's the reason they're friends.

-

Every night for the past few years the routine is similar.

1 Shelly goes to afternoon classes

2 they try(key word try) to cook a good meal

3 shitty sitcoms or whater mind numbing thing they find

4 study and homework (ugh) 

5 bed

They were in a bubble of their own and they were happy not that they didn't have other friends or things the did without each other.

- 

Days after rink always kinda sucked no matter how fun it is. She woke sore and worn out. I mean she did move a lot almost twice a week. 

"Ugh " her alarm always seemed louder.

"Hmph" she had trouble getting out of bed

Eventually she triumphantly got up and over to the rest room. 

Dashi wouldn't say she's crazy about skincare or her fur.(she cared more about her fur) BUT she had a routine. [Insert whatever dog fur/skin care would be]

She got dressed today a blue dress, some sneakers and her typical pink headband.(iconic she knows)

-

She ran for it. 

Late and on a field day. Damn this sucked. At this point she was ruffled up and just ready to go off on her own.

Luckily Mr owens[random name],a fox with a few patches of gray fur, wasn't all that strict. Sure he hated trouble but not slight lateness.

-

Going out to take photos was one of her favorite parts of her major. She loved documenting things she found interesting or just capturing the world as it passed by.

Dashi loved her life as simple as each day seemed as of now she loved it. Waking up, doing photography for class; working at the skating rink. 

[wlwutenanthy]

CTS A | Week 11 Compulsory Question 2

Q: Connect CTS A to all your other modules (and components)!

A:

Studio

In our Studio module, we learned about Data Space, which is about finding relations between different data sources. For our class activity on this subject, we used collaborative skills by working together in our groups, and across all the classes to categorise our items that we brought from home in different ways.

In our Studio module, we have many chances to work in groups for class activities. We exercise assertion and conflict resolution by learning how to resolve disagreements among groupmates by compromising. This way, we can all come to an agreement through everyone’s shared ideas.

In our Studio module, we often have to look up artist and designer references for our assignments. We exercise facts, reliable sources and filing them by creating a catalogue of references and sources so that we can easily refer back to them.

In our Studio module, we have our Creative Process Journal to record our journey through each assignment. We use digital media: documentation for art practice through noting down our references, activities that relate to the assignment and our progress all in one place.

Craft Workshop

In our Craft Workshop component, one of our assignments was to draw an abstract turtle based on a plastic drink bottle. We used critical thinking through analysing the graphics and elements of the bottle and thinking about how to incorporate it into our design.

Digital Skills

In our Digital Skills component, some people may struggle to keep up with what is being taught during the lesson. We exercise emotional intelligence by being empathetic towards our classmates and helping where we can.

Photography

In our Photography component, sometimes when taking photographs, they may not come out as desired. We exercise the growth mindset by learning how to enhance our photographs through taking suggestions from our lecturer and classmates.

(Word count: 301)

[the-deathwork-blue]

Day #2 19/9/2024

Maybe if I continue at this for a couple more days I'll actually create an about me page or something to keep of these entires organized.

Today was actually pretty alright! I woke up late so I was kinda pissing bricks about being tardy. But at the same time, the class isn't too strict with lateness so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I ended being an hour early like always so I guess it all turned out alright. Art history was interesting and I didn't sleep mid way the lecture for once lol. For some reason the discussion of Sumer and Mesopotamia really intrigued me, however the minuets still felt like hours. I wrote many pages in my notebook (maybe you guys will get to see a page soon) my notes aren't pretty but hey I have an A in that class so it still works nonetheless. And FYI for anyone needing tips about college; BRING A SWEATER. It was freezing in that lecture hall://.

Lunch soon rolled around and I got out to hang out with my friends. I know many people say not to hang out with high school friends during college but I forgot how difficult and awkward it is to make new friends. I feel like I come off as nerdy or weird (is that an incel thing to say? idk) But I really enjoy my friend's company. For this blog I'll just call them M and D. M and D are nerdy teenage boys that spazz about Death Grips, comics, just nerdy shit. And talk about the occasional cute girl. M is really into a mutual of mines and I find it cute how head over heels he is lol. I picked up a bagel to enjoy not knowing that these 2 were gonna drag me to a Chick fil-A once again. Ordered a chicken sandwich combo alongside with that bagel (felt fat but ehh I skipped breakfast) . The whole lunch consisted of M and D shit talking a guy who latched onto them awkwardly and how D is infertile. Hearing about a hernia messing up a testicle isn't the most appealing thing to hear while you're eating lol

Foundation class was uneventful. Despite my focus being photography, I still have to draw from time to time. We practiced perspective and drew some still lifes. Doodled a little bit as well but I doubt that I'll show them here unless requested I guess.

The ride back home wasn't bad either, nothing that stood out to me in the subway. To be honest, I was daydreaming about the date I have tomorrow with my boyfriend. It's weird to think about how we've been together for over a year now and I still laugh and giggle like a teenage girl. In this blog I'll call the boyfriend E. I still listen to the playlists E made when before we even got together and I never skip the songs either. With stress from work and life, I feel like I deserve the bagel and I deserve the first time trip to Olive Garden with E.

With E actually going to uni, I feel like I am behind in school compared to him. I often diminish my major because he's studying in STEM. But no matter how low I think of myself, he seems to remind me that I'm just as capable as him. It doesn't matter that I'm majoring in Studio Arts and he's a STEM student. And it doesn't matter that he's attending a well respected University while I'm attending the local community college. We both are gaining education and becoming first generation college students . Hell we both are first gen high school graduates. With E, I feel like I can accomplish so much with him and not against him. (Imma stop before I get too emotional lol)

I got some work done, hopefully by tomorrow my weekend will be cleared. I'mma shower, shave even and count the hours till I get to see my bf again<<33

Good night to whoever read it all, you a real one lol

Here's the bagel with the Chick fil-A in the background lol

song of the day btw

[srmuniversitysonepat]

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But what makes SRM University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat truly special is its innovative approach to education. Gone are the days of boring lectures and endless note-taking. Instead, students here are encouraged to think outside the box, ask questions, and explore new ideas. With hands-on projects, interactive classes, and plenty of opportunities for practical learning, SRM University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat is redefining what it means to get an education.

The Best University Ever!

Did you know that SRM University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat is the top university in Sonepat? That's right! When it comes to academic excellence, innovation, and research, SRM University University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat is in a league of its own. But what sets SRM University University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat apart is its amazing faculty. Not only are they experts in their fields, but they're also super friendly and always willing to lend a helping hand.

Whether you're struggling with a tough assignment or just need some advice, you can always count on the teachers at SRM University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat to be there for you. They're not just here to teach you—they're here to help you succeed.

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But the fun doesn't stop there! At SRM University, Delhi-NCR, Sonepat there's always something exciting happening. From sports tournaments and cultural events to technical competitions and community service projects, there's never a dull moment on campus.

And if you're feeling adventurous, why not join one of the many clubs and organizations? Whether you're into photography, music, or entrepreneurship, there's a club for you. And if there isn't, you can always start one yourself!

Making Big Discoveries

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Whether you're conducting experiments in the lab, working on a group project, or presenting your findings at a conference, you'll have plenty of opportunities to make your mark. And who knows? You might just make a discovery that changed the world!

In Conclusion...

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Don't miss out on the adventure of a lifetime. Come be a part of the SRM University Delhi-NCR, Sonepat family today!

[exhibit-of-the-century]

Lecture Notes MON 20th NOV

Masterlist

BUY ME A COFFEE

Doing Art History: Photography

Memory. Power. The Document

Photographs carry the ability to change reality, it’s not objective. Every kind of photo has intent.

CONTENT WARNING: COVERING SENSITIVE SUBJECTS AND PHOTOS OF DEAD BODIES, MUTILATION AND OTHER TRIGGERING TOPICS

Here I will give a summary of Photos featured as well as what this whole post discusses:

What is your favourite historical photo? Why? What is the most memorable photo to you? Why? 1820’s photography is invented. Why photos are important to humankind, we document everything. The development of assumed face shapes/characteristics and their negative influence on class and archetype/stereotype and racist beliefs. Why do photos require more censorship than paintings?

UNE RUE À PARIS EN MAI 1871 OU LA COMMUNE. Maximilien LUCE (1858 - 1941), C. 1906,  © Photo RMN-Grand Palais

Eddie Adams | Saigon execution | 1968

Kevin Carter Pulitzer Prize-winning photo Starving Child and Vulture | 1993

Specimen of Criminals, from L’ Homme Criminel by Cesare Lombroso (1835-1909), published by Felix Alcan, 1887

Degas, Criminal Physiognomies, 1881. Private Collection.

Kevin Carter Pulitzer Prize-winning photo Starving Child and Vulture | 1993

Eddie Adams | Saigon execution | 1968

Please be advised that below the cut to this post there will be topics like 9/11, dead bodies from war photography and documentary photography. This post does not shy away from topics of violence and other. I advise deeply that if you have a sensitive disposition and are triggered by heavy topics to ignore this post and carry on.

Our lecturer began by asking us what the most memorable photo was to us, any photo to me is a historical photo, it is important to understanding humanity and the human condition. I adore photos that have been produced/printed out, there’s something more connecting to me, and real about them. But that doesn’t take away from modern photography, which we can all access on phones, making it far easier and more accessible to document life. (as of 2023).

To me, a very important photo, because of my heritage and background, is the Fall of the Berlin Wall:

There exists a photo of my grandmother at this point in history and it really sobered me up to the prospect of history and life. And I think has made me interested in personal history from a very young age.

Another person in my lecture said of the photo of Tiananmen Square:

My lecturer proceeded to open the discussion with this photo, which I'm sure many people will recognise as this was probably closer in our lifetime:

And while my relationship with 9/11 is complicated due to American hysteria over it, it still is an important moment in history.

1820’s photography comes into existence, and we began documenting everything.

How can photography ever be a document when everything is subjective: What is reality? Especially in a photo?

Aesthetic is everything, it’s the way we group things in photography. Generalising style/type and putting it into a category.

A lot of photography, before the rise of telephone cameras and easy access, was far more impactful as it had a limited access. Meaning that the images above, had far greater cultural impact. Especially in countries where censorship was a must to maintain power. But even then, a photo is a heavy burden to carry. There’s a cheesy quote that comes to mind: “a picture says a thousand words”, and while it’s very cliche it’s also true. These photos are some of the most important, on tiktok there are fads of people finding older photos and posting them (albeit with little care for fact checking). We circle back to photographs; we recount and reimagine and visualise and understand who came before us.

And this opens a larger debate that’s going on and been had on multiple instances, I’m sure. But why do photographs get far more censorship than a painting does?

To me it may be the fact that we scare ourselves. That humans are most afraid of humans than anything else. That above all else, you can chalk up a painting to have been part of the artists imagination, but a photo is a commitment to trapping a blatant creation of humanity or in the world. Especially something tragic, as it generates reactions. But his debate truly can go back and forth, so please do add to it because I personally find it fascinating to see where someone draws the line.

Early photography heavily focused on capturing still life:

WHF Talbot, The Open Door, 1844

Daguerre, Studio of the Artist, Daguerreotype,  1837

In 1839 the French scientist Arago announced the discovery of photography: Louise Mande Daguerre, William Henry Fox Talbot, Hippolyte Bayard, Hercule Florence.

However, apart from photographing still life, as it was the easiest form to capture. Photography was used predominantly white men to capture and document Ethnographic, especially under colonial rule, although it was more manipulative than anything. It was the European’s categorising, created staged and set up displays. These staged, studio produced photos were created stereotyping the people in them, heavy on the racism and caricaturing the people of the different colonised nations. However, in a more positive twist, at a lecture at the Tate Modern there was a panel of black creators discussing the importance of an exhibit dedicated to only black artists on heritage and culture. And one of these people was a photographer, who staged her own photos of people she had observed  from her city. Moreover, in her talk she discussed how from the place she was from chose to reclaim studio photography and make it their own, and they dressed in European clothing and as film characters. Something we will touch on in another post is a new debate that has come into art history circles and is amidst discussion, is decolonisation.

(Left) “Sartjee, the Hottentot Venus, Now Exhibiting in London, Drawn From Life,” read the caption on this engraving, circa 1810.Credit...City of Westminster Archive Center, London/Bridgeman Art Library (Right) Love and beauty--Sartjee the Hottentot Venus,  Pubd. October 1811 by Christopher Crupper Rumford, 1811.

Caney Brothers, inscribed: Ordinary & Fighting Dresses. South Africa, late nineteenth century Albumen print

Unidentified photographer, inscribed: Zulu mothers, South Africa, late nineteenth century Gelatin-silver printed out print

And to a 19th century audience these people were a fascination as they were new, and the photos were considered groundbreaking. Paris, England and other colonising countries classed it as a study in physiognomy, which further developed and introduced that: “through the study of facial features we can predict who/what a criminal looks like”.

England and Paris mainly utilised physiological stereotyping to determine criminals. Not only did they use physical features, they also based it heavily off of class and accent. And thus, a very corrupt system was created, that centred on upholding class and reducing social mobility. Also, one that is entirely baseless and a lie.

Police in France went as far as to create a bureau which was created to classify humanity.

(central) Specimen of Criminals, from L’ Homme Criminel by Cesare Lombroso (1835-1909), published by Felix Alcan, 1887

Moreover, critics at the time in Paris, while the Impressionism movement was happening, said that it cheapened the movement even further. While the Impressionists, quite obviously saw photography as a new tool to use.

Degas, Criminal Physiognomies, 1881. Private Collection.

Degas was one of the artists interested in the idea physiognomy, when it was gaining popularity within France, he went to courtrooms and sketched for cases/at cases. Focusing intently on the features of the people, as shown in this sketch: The contour lines around the noses bring greater attention to the features of the people. While I can’t say for definite if he believed in physiognomy, it is very clear the debate interested him.

Towards Degas later years in life, he shows a very clear interest in photography. It’s even been suggested that he studied from photographs, as he was an artist who cut people out of frames and was conscious of the canvas being a frame like in a camera.

Degas, The Ballet Class, between 1871 and 1874. 85 x 75 cm. Orsay.

Degas, Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage, c. 1874, 53 x 73 cm. Met NYC

Consider how Degas cuts his ballerinas from the frame, how he chooses to do this.

There is one painting in particular that scholars believe was painted from a photograph, less so from using photographs as referencing.

Degas, Place de la Concorde or Viscount Lepic and his Daughters Crossing the Place de la Concorde, 1876, 78 x 118 cm. Hermitage Museum

Photographs take in more detail than the eye can catch, perhaps that is another reason that they’re more censored and controlled, unlike with a painting. Why do we consider photography more reality?

There is an aspect to photography that focuses, unlike in most art, on narrative. There’s also a heavy conflict on people earning money off others suffering. Take the example of these photos:

(Left) Kevin Carter Pulitzer Prize-winning photo Starving Child and Vulture | 1993 (Right) Eddie Adams | Saigon execution | 1968

Carter a few years later killed himself due to the popularity of his photo, despite it changing the course of history for Sudan with the hunger crisis. Many donations were motivated by this photo being published.

Does it matter if a photo is staged? Does that change whether it is good or bad?

Further reading: The Photographers Eye, John Szarkowski

[somewhatofablog]

29/09/2023 - morning refresh

This morning, we had two sessions before we had our collaborative research workshop later that day. Since there's four small groups in our year group (only because there's so many of us lol), half of the groups were split up into two pairs. Which meant two groups would be in a class different to the other two groups. This just makes it easier for the tutors, I think.

I'm in group D, which meant I was in a class with other members of groups C and D. In this first hour session, our tutor went over the assessment framework for unit 5 and quickly went over what was expected of us when it came to creating the process book. Because unit 5 is such a short unit, I was already well aware of just how much time I'll need to spend on reviewing sessions, workshops, lecture notes and generally just starting on that process pdf.

Hence why this blog's been revived - I want to essentially almost blog daily on whatever it is I am working on for uni. So that when it comes to creating those process books, I can just come back to this blog and plop them straight into the books. My memory's also terrible, so I really need to stay on top of this whole documenting thing. Hopefully, I'll get used to this because sometimes it's weird writing up what happened and like, figuring out the writing style is a bit confusing at times. Anyways, I wrote some notes down as you can see above.

After quickly going through the assessment criteria, we all then joined up in pairs and basically criticised and analysed some of last year’s process books for this unit. We were all given A3 sheets that had about two pages from a 2nd year process book. We then had to look at it in depth and figure out why the presentation/composition/layout of the images and text worked well/didn’t work well and how these sheets could’ve been improved in our opinions. We had to consider colour palettes, font choice, compositions etc when criticising last years work. All four process books got the top grade (which is an A), yet they all presented their work in very different ways from each other. This portion of the session was useful for me in the sense that I can look at another person’s work and think ‘yeah, I could perhaps lay out my images like that too’. But it is hard to know how to properly present your work more clearly to others, when you’re more focused on trying to explain your experimentation processes and reflection to your peers and tutors(if that makes sense). Anyways, I know presentation is a weakness of mine and that’s definitely something I want to tackle this year within my work. I’ll have to play around with compositional layouts/designs and see what works well with certain projects etc.

The second half of the morning was spent taking pics of ourselves in colourful lights. I'm not actually sure why we took the pictures - I personally think we might use these photos for our next mini brief (can’t remember what it’s called lol). Other than that, was it to have a go at photography??? I’m not honestly too sure lmao.

The photography ‘studio’ was behind a screen/black curtains. Each table would go behind the screen and take photos. When it was our table’s turn, we got up and took photos of ourselves on someone’s phone, which was placed in a tripod (??? not sure if that’s what it’s called). We played with the HSI and CCT buttons on the LED lights and we got some cool colour combos out of it.

That was it for the morning. The afternoon was spent collaborating on our text analyses with each other, which I’ll write about in a separate post.

[growwithrandom]

6 Best Study Tips for students 2023 | How to study | How to study effectively | 2023

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

Introduction

Studying is a process that if done correctly, will be one of the most fun things to encounter in your entire day. But if done in the traditional way, then it may be the thing you always want to run away from. But don’t worry as today I’ve come up with a list of 6 best study tips, you only need, to ace the process of studying. This article will address all your questions related to, how to study effectively for exams, how to study fast, and how to remember what you read or how to study without forgetting.

How to study effectively for exams

Here is the list of 6 best study methods you must follow and make a part of your study routine, in order to become a topper, or the top 1% you always aspired to be. This article also comprises some of the best revision tips and revision techniques so that you get the answer to your question, of how to remember everything.

How to study fast

1. Priming/Scoping

Photo by Firmbee.com on Unsplash

The primary reason for us to lose interest in a subject is it being too heavy in terms of content, or theory, or simply it not having, many graphics, illustrations, or other things to make it visually appealing, just a lot of paragraphs. So, reducing the effect of these resisting factors is important to make us continue with the subject.

In this, you have to go over all the topics/headings, and the questions at the end and in the middle of the chapters. And make a mind map or a chart, forming the basic structure of the content. This will give you the much-needed confidence that you have gone through the content once already. And are ahead of your class. In the first few lectures on any topic, only the basics are discussed, and you have already done them. 

                                                             Now you have the overview of the entire chapter/content. You know what’s the aim of the chapter, what does it want to discuss, and in what specific direction does it want the reader to think. Also come across this mind map of yours quite often, so that you always have the idea of the Big Picture. 

Being familiar with the Big Picture is the key. As it’s that one thing that will help you stay on track, find context, analyze why a certain example or case study is given further in the chapter, or determine what to read and what not when you are referring to several books for a particular topic. So make sure you have the skeleton of the content, readily available. And this can be done only when you have scoped the subject in the first step itself.

2. Skimming

The best way to revise is always to only go through what’s important ‘for you’ along with what’s important in general. In general, most asked Previous Year Questions are very important from an exam point of view. So they must be divided chapter-wise, so when you are revising the chapters, you have the material to study, ready with you. Apart from this, the important ‘for you’ stuff consists of all the topics, chapters, and concepts, which you find difficulty in understanding or remembering. Make sure you have made short notes, or Q/Ans on these and keep them along with the PYQs bundle.

Just use these as you start revising your chapters, and that’s it. You are all set for your exams. All the Best!

How to remember what you read / How to study without forgetting

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

3. Questions

I cannot stress enough the importance of practicing questions. You just cannot study efficiently if you are only reading or memorizing stuff without testing yourself. This not only involves the textbook questions. But also the questions you will make. The first time you are starting a chapter, you have to use the ‘Priming’ Method, as already told. The second time you start studying, you have to read the content properly, and while doing so, you just don’t have to passively read stuff. 

Keep forming questions as you proceed with the content. The right way to manage these questions is discussed in the next section. Now, only these 2 types of questions, the one given between and at the end of the chapters, and the ones you formed, will be present in your study sessions. Because from the third time of your studying the materials should only have these and not the heavy theory stuff written in paragraphs in the textbook.

                                                          This forces active participation of your brain, and hence better understanding and retention ratios. This will also boost the cognitive capacity of your brain, which will give you huge benefits.

4. Flashcards

Remember we talked about the management of the ‘self-formed’ questions, and that we would discuss that in the next section. This is that section. The best way to study and test yourself through a set of questions is not to practice them in a sequence. Because then, we have a tendency to remember the answer not because we understood or retain that, but because we know that this certain answer comes after that certain point! 

And this is the primary reason you are not able to answer the same question in the exam hall, you were nailing at your home. All the questions you form yourself while reading the material (we discussed it in the previous section) should be kept as flashcards. So that whenever you come, you have a shuffled deck of cards, with any random question being thrown at you and your brain trying hard to recall the answer. 

That’s the right way to study. My app of choice when it comes to Digital Flashcards, is, ‘Anki’. You can opt for handmade flashcards as well, but I don’t recommend them as first, they take up a lot of your crucial time just writing the same content as in your book/source down, and second, you may find certain pre-made decks online, so what’s the need to even type. Also, when you are seeking answers online or in your textbook, have a pdf of it, so that you can just copy and paste it into your deck.

Pro tip: Although I asked you to use online decks when available, I just can’t deny the effect, forming questions yourself has on your exam preparations. That’s the real essence of forming questions in the first place. Forming your questions, your way, as you also go through the material thoroughly while doing so, this gets all the information in your brain.

5. Revision

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Now that you have read the topics, made the questions, and are ready with your final study material. It’s time to get it all permanent. The scientific method to revise, to make the revision process highly effective, is to involve your brain actively. By that, it means testing your brain. And we have already made up for this. Our Questions’ Deck! (our questions + book questions = flashcards deck). Now just go over and over the questions, understand them, and try to recall as much as you can in every sitting. Over a period of small time, you will see how you know even the minutest of details very swiftly.

6. Prospective revision

Lastly, a revision tip. You can take it as an add-on to your already full-proof revision plan. Instead of determining which topic to revise and when beforehand. Just make a list of all the topics under each subject you have to study. And either paste it on the wall or keep it on your devices. Just start with whichever topic you want. And note down the date you did that topic on in front of it. Do it with every topic and make a maximum gap of 3 days before you come back to a topic. This is the perspective way of revising stuff, where you are determining dates on the basis of how much time has been revised a subject since the last time, or what’s your level in that subject. This automatically shows your progress, as you will less often come to topics you are already too confident about.

Do let me know which of the above-mentioned tricks you are going to use or knew already. Thanks for reading, hope you got some real knowledge. Follow for more. Comment down below for any future topic suggestions.

[audioaujom]

LiS AU Chapter 1: Chrysalis

LiSAU Hub, Chapter 2 >

Word Count: 17,273

Chapter TWs: guns, gun violence, bullying, fighting, mentioned non-consenual drug use

--

The first thing Ranboo noticed as he tried to blink his eyes open was the thick coating of mud down one side of his body and clinging to his face. He shuddered and slowly tried to sit up, the slick mud squelching as he moved and wiped at his face.

Where am I? What’s going on?

The familiarity of the woods by the lighthouse on the edge of town was quick to catch up with him as he wobbled to unsteady feet, using his already mud coated arm to shield from the downpour that was soaking and chilling him down to his bones. 

It’s a storm? Since when?

Still using his arm to block out the pelting rain, he felt drawn to follow the worn travel path up to the lighthouse itself through the dense trees, which he noticed were bending and swaying in the howling wind that accompanied the downpour.

Weird.

His steps felt slow, his body creaking with sluggish effort as he squinted in an attempt to see more than a few inches in front of his face in the extreme weather. He eventually clambered to the top of the path, where the ground leveled out and had a small outlook by the steep cliffs and the lighthouse up another short but inclined path. His eyes blew wide even as it caused more rain to sting into them, noticing the swirling dark gray clouds that formed a massive tornado over the bay below the cliffs.

That’s a whole tornado… was the only thought he could force out of his cold-numbed mind, watching the debris get sucked up into it as the howling of the wind grew louder by the second. His widened gaze caught sight of a boat from the bay getting swept up into the storm but didn’t quite merge, flying off to the side and straight into the side of the lighthouse. The entire top half of the building started sliding to one side, the brickwork crumbling outward as the boat smashed further and the wind refused to let up. The top portion of the building with the railing and the light rained broken glass and decaying bricks in Ranboo’s direction, him unable to stumble back as it cast a dark shadow and threatened to land right on top of—

Ranboo felt himself jolt upright, still internally braced for impact only to look around and recognize the inside of his photography classroom instead of more destruction. His eyes frantically scanned the room, seeing everyone else engrossed in Mr. Jefferson’s lecture, a wave of relief washing over him as him suddenly feeling exhausted and falling asleep on the desk beside his textbook came back.

Geez, some dream. Guess I need to stop falling asleep in class, that was surreal. 

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film ‘little pieces of time’ but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.”

Jefferson’s voice broke through his haze of thoughts, awkwardly readjusting his things sprawled on the desk in front of him as he blinked the lingering sleep out of his eyes. Taking a glance at the time on his phone in his lap, he slowly shut his notebook and pushed it off to one side, knowing he wouldn’t fully comprehend any more of the lesson. The edge of the notebook poked into the bottom of his camera, which shifted a little. His overstuffed photo journal sat on the other side of the desk, a handful of pens scattered around it.

Everything’s fine, it wasn’t real. I’m here, tuning out a photography lecture. Like normal.

“These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro…” Looking up from his desk, he saw a girl he vaguely recognized but couldn’t put a name to crumple up a piece of notebook paper, aiming a throw across the room that soared through the air and hit an unfocused Tubbo square in the face. Tubbo blinked slowly, rubbing at it and ducking his head down to hover over his notes as Ranboo frowned to himself, the boy’s brown bangs hiding his eyes as he slumped further into the already oversized hoodie. The girl snickered, elbowing her friend Minx beside her, who smirked before her attention was drawn to her phone that buzzed from its spot on top of the desk. Strawberry blonde hair fell in a perfect ponytail down her back that swished a little as she turned her head, manicured nails tapping a scattered rhythm on the desktop. “Now, can someone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition?” Minx put her hand up, but didn’t wait for Jefferson to call on her before she loudly announced, “Diane Arbus.”

“There you go, Minx! Why Arbus?” Jefferson sat back on the edge of the front desk, crossing his arms with an approving smile. His plastic framed glasses sat smartly in the center of his face, his dark black hair combed up into a near-quiff that kept it from his eyes as he turned his attention to Minx from where it was normally sweeping the lecture hall.

“Because all of her images captured, like… hopeless faces and sad children and babies and shit.”

“She saw humanity as tortured, right?” Earning the nod of confirmation, Jefferson turned to address the rest of the class with an unimpressed frown. “Frankly, that’s bullshit, but keep that to yourselves.” Chuckling to himself, Jefferson pushed off the desk to continue lecturing as Ranboo felt his attention once again wandering back to the stuff on his desk. “Seriously, though. I could frame any one of you in a dark corner and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn’t that too easy? Too obvious?” 

Ranboo carefully picked up his camera, noticing a smudge on the front lens with a small frown. He lowered it down to his lap, hooking his thumb under the edge of his shirt to carefully clean it while Jefferson droned on in the background. “What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach.”

“I’m personally not a big fan of hers, actually.” Minx’s voice held her usual smugness as she continued, Ranboo not having to look up to picture the confident look on her face as he brought the lens up to eye level to make sure it appeared clean. “I prefer Robert Frank.”

“Me too, Minx. He captured the essence of post-war, beat America. You don’t have beauty without a beat. Which explains why Frank was Keroauc’s photographic muse, and both were the great—” Fumbling a little with his camera as he tried to be careful in putting it back down so as to not disturb the class, he felt himself accidentally press the shutter button, a brief flash of light going off as the camera whirred to life. “Shh, I believe Ranboo has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’.” Jefferson immediately noticed, Ranboo pushing the camera away from him as his face burned hot with embarrassment. He heard a couple of other kids in the class laughing, trying to duck his head out of view with no success. “A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Ranboo here has a gift.” Face managing to burn even hotter, Ranboo slid down in his seat even after everyone was looking away from him again. Once he was certain the attention was off of him, he grabbed the polaroid from where it slid out of his camera, shaking it a little and grimacing at the slightly blurry image of the bottom half of his masked face. “Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800’s. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Haha, sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Jefferson was the only one who laughed, the rest of the class not even bothering to give him pity points before he cleared his throat and continued, “The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it’s been around.” Turning his attention pointedly back to Ranboo—who jumped a little, Jefferson smirked. “Now Ranboo, since you’ve captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“Oh, uhhh…” No matter how hard he thought about it, not a single name was coming to mind.

Great time to blank.

“I think I’d have to say the mirror?”

“Be serious, Ranboo.” Jefferson rolled his eyes despite the clear amusement in his face, opening the question up to the rest of the class. “Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?”

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created ‘daguerreotypes’, a process that gave portraits a sharp, reflective style.” Minx was the first to answer, not even bothering to raise her hand as she then shot a sharp look back at Ranboo. He didn't bother returning her look, slipping the accidental and blurry selfie into one of the later pages of his journal. “Like a mirror, as the geek ever-so eloquently put it.” 

Also ignoring Minx’s comment, Jefferson pressed on with his lecture, his eyes glancing down at his watch. “The Daguerreian Process, as it’s known, brought out fine detail in people’s faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800’s onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait was done by Robert Cornealius. You can find out all about him… in your textbook.” His timing was spot on, Ranboo checking his phone to see the time switch over to 3:00. “‘Spose that’s all we really have time for today, so if you need to leave feel free to head out. But! Don’t forget your deadline to submit a photo for the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest.” Most of the students were already packing up as he continued, several people brushing past him to head out the door with phones in hand. “I’ll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you’ll be feted by the art world.” Ranboo opened his journal, looking over the photo held between the first page and cover that was supposed to be his entry—an ambiently lit shot of the back of his head staring at the wall of polaroids in his room—before shaking his head and sliding the journal into his bag alongside his notebook.

No way is that actually good enough to submit.

“It’s great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography, so Charlie and Freddie: get it together. Poki, don’t hide, I’m waiting for your entry, too, and yes, Ranboo, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Cursing under his breath, Ranboo made sure the rest of his stuff made its way into his bag, slipping his phone into his back pocket and holding his camera in both of his hands before standing up and stretching a little. Jefferson had already headed back to the front desk of the classroom, Minx hot on his tail as the few remaining students were packing up or checking things on their own. Walking a little absentmindedly after slinging his messenger bag on, Ranboo soon found himself standing beside Tubbo’s desk, noticing his friend staring off out the nearby window and not even registering his approach.

“Hey, Tubbo. You alright?” Ranboo asked cautiously, watching as Tubbo flinched hard, turning to give him an apologetic look.

“Oh, Ranboo, hey.” His smile was weak and a little watery, but it still seemed bright enough as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, just a little tired today.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Ranboo nodded, not wanting to bother him too much since he did look exhausted. “See you later?” “Yeah, of course.”

Waiting until Tubbo was fully distracted by staring out the window again, Ranboo bent down to pick up the crumpled paper that had hit him in the face during class, tucking it into his pocket until he was far enough away that Tubbo couldn’t see it before reading it.

— Hey creep! Just saw your video.  You really need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.  It's no wonder the other girls don't trust you anymore. - xo —

Gross. They’re all so awful.

Shoving the note back in his pocket, Ranboo eyed Jefferson—who seemed busy with Minx, the two chatting at the desk—and tried to slip out the door before the teacher noticed.

“I see you, Ranboo!” His hopes were crushed in an instant, deflating and turning to guiltily look at Jefferson, who crossed his arms. “Don’t even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.” Sheepishly heading over to the desk, Ranboo avoided eye contact as Jefferson sighed heavily.  “I’d never let one of photography’s future stars avoid handing in his picture.”

“Okay but… do I really have to?” “Look, I know it’s a drag to hear some old dude lecture you, but life won’t wait for you to play catch-up. You’re young, the world is yours, blah blah blah, right? But you do have a gift. You have the fever to take images; to frame the world only the way you envision it. Now all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That’s what separates the artist from the amateur.”

Jefferson’s words swam around in his head as he turned to leave the classroom, Jefferson then resuming his conversation with Minx, seemingly satisfied with his brief lecture.

Slipping his headphones in as he headed out into the hallway, Ranboo tiredly scrolled through his playlists before finding something he’d like, shuffling it and putting his phone back away as he headed for the nearest bathroom on the floor.

The music drowned out the idle chatting of those leaving or showing up for their classes and milling around the building, flashes of white walls covered in scattered Halloween decorations and relevant campus posters blurring together as he rounded the corner at the end of the hall. A missing poster on the corkboard by the elevators had his steps faltering just long enough for him to read the name Thomas Simons off of it before shaking his head and ducking through the remaining students between him and the door of the boy’s restroom. 

Ranboo ignored his reflection in favor of turning on one of the sinks, taking his mask off and letting out a long sigh. “Today’s so weird.” He commented to himself, cupping his hands to catch some water before bending over to splash it across his face. 

Between that tornado dream, getting noticed in class, and Jefferson tearing me a new one over my entry, I’d say I’m ready to head back to bed.

After using a rough paper towel to dry off his face and slipping his mask back on, he leaned heavily on the sink and reached into his bag to pull out the overstuffed journal with the offending entry photo. The longer he stared at it the worse it looked, causing him to tear the Polaroid into no less than four pieces before sprinkling it into the trash can.

Finally ready to head back to his dorm, he stopped as a flash of blue belonging to a pair of butterfly wings landing on the sink at the far end of the room registered in his peripherals.

Already reaching for his camera, Ranboo quietly crept forward and raised it up to eye level, making sure the shot looked right before snapping a photo. The whir of the camera scared the butterfly off, but he was too busy eagerly waiting on the film to pay it much mind. He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face at the sight of the slowly developing photo, the light coming in through a high window on the bathroom wall perfectly lighting up the sparkling blue of the insect’s wings as it perched on the sink. After putting his camera back away and tucking the new photo securely in his journal, Ranboo finally started to feel a little better. 

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom slammed open, pacing footsteps hurrying inside. Stepping back to stay out of view at the end of the row of stalls, Ranboo heard the newcomer open each of the stall doors individually before sighing in relief, moving to instead pace in front of the sinks. Stealing a peek around the corner of the nearest stall, Ranboo blinked in surprise as he noticed the familiar bush of dark hair belonging to Wilbur Soot angrily talking to himself in the mirror.

“It’s all cool, you got this… You’re okay, right? You got this.”

Yeah, you seem… totally balanced.

“You own this school! You could blow it up if you wanted, right? So what’s this little matter? Yeah… that’s right.”

After a tense moment of silence where Wilbur was all but glaring at his own reflection through rounded glasses and an obnoxious turtleneck, the door to the bathroom slammed open for a second time and left Ranboo with his back hunched and pressed against the end of the row of stalls with his breath caught in his throat.

“So you're here.”

“Glad to be.” A new voice spoke up, and Ranboo heard the stranger pushing open the stall doors just like Wilbur had done previously. “We alone?”

“I already checked.” Wilbur grumbled, seeming even more annoyed and on edge than when he came in alone.

Whoever this is, he hates their guts.

Maybe we could be friends.

“Perfect! Then let's talk.” 

“Whatever it is you want, I don't have it.” 

“Wrong! I know you’re fucking loaded.” Curiosity completely piqued, Ranboo once again snuck a glance around the corner of the stalls to glance at Wilbur and the dark haired stranger accosting him, the two too engrossed in their conversation to notice him watching. Messy black hair trailed all the way down the stranger’s neck, fringes of his bangs in his eyes as he glared at Wilbur with a cocky smile that almost seemed a little familiar. “And I also happen to know that you're pumping out drugs and shit to the kids around here, and you know that I know. But if you don't want to pay me to keep that on the down low, I bet your respectable family would give me a nice little reward for tattling.” 

“You leave them out of this, asshole!” 

“Then maybe you'd rather I tell everybody that Wilbur Soot is a punk-ass bitch who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—!” Wilbur backed off a little as the guy got up in his face with a smirk, before Wilbur was reaching behind him, flipping up the back of his jacket and pulling something out of his back waistband.

The glinting metal of a handgun instantly cut the stranger off, Ranboo pressing a hand to his mouth in shock as he ducked back out of view.

Is he crazy?!

“You have no idea who the fuck I am, or who the fuck you're messing with!” Wilbur’s voice pitched up almost manically, and Ranboo could hear the other guy stumbling back towards the door.

“Whoa, where’d you get that? What the hell are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” 

“Don't ever tell me what to do! I'm so sick of people trying to control me!” Wilbur was on a clear power trip thanks to the gun in his hands, backing the other guy into the paper towel dispenser above the trash can by the door, the automated machine giving a tentative whir as a section of paper towel rolled out from the movement.

“This’ll get you into so much more trouble than the drugs, so put it the fuck down.” The stranger tried to keep his voice steady, but it wobbled in fear as Ranboo peeked around the corner again to see Wilbur waving the gun around wildly.

“You think anyone could actually control what I do?! I can do whatever I want! I bet nobody would even miss your 'punk-ass', would they?”

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!” The guy finally attempted to shove Wilbur away, but the movement caused a brief scuffle as the loud ‘BANG’ of the gun going off had Ranboo leaping out of his hiding place with a hand outstretched towards the two while blood started soaking through the stranger’s shirt.

"No!!" 

The world began swirling around Ranboo in blurry sepia hues, the bathroom first moving in slow motion as both the stranger and Wilbur’s gun fell to the floor before disappearing around him and being replaced by flashes of the hallway that soon became overwhelming, his eyes unable to block out all the movement while his stomach churned like he was in freefall and his head pounded and his face felt flushed and hot before suddenly—

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film ‘little pieces of time’ but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.”

Huh?

A blink put everything back into focus, the familiar surroundings of his photography class greeting him as one of his hands that had been outstretched in the bathroom slowly fell back into his lap.

I was in the bathroom, right? With Wilbur and that guy he shot…

Jefferson stood at the front of the room, his arms crossed as he continued on with a lecture that made Ranboo’s head hurt. “These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow—”

Wait a second, isn’t this—?

The familiar words from Jefferson had him feeling sick again, glancing around to realize he wasn’t just back in his photography class, but he was somehow back in his photography class from roughly 10 minutes ago.

“—from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro…” 

No way, no damn way. There’s no way that I— His thoughts were cut off as he watched the girl whose name he still couldn’t call to mind crumpled up a note and aimed a throw, the paper ball soaring through the air and colliding with a distracted Tubbo’s face.

If Minx’s phone goes off next, does that mean this is real…?

As if waiting for his thought as a cue, Minx’s phone began buzzing on her desk, Ranboo jumping in surprise and accidentally managing to knock his camera off his desk while Jefferson’s lecture continued as if nothing was wrong. “Now, can someone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition?”

Looking down, Ranboo saw the shattered lens of his camera accompanied by the rest of it in several now broken pieces, a deep sense of panic overtaking him as he looked up just in time to see Minx put her hand up but not wait for Jefferson to call on her before she loudly announced,  “Diane Arbus.”

“There you go, Minx! Why Arbus?” Jefferson sat back on the edge of the front desk, crossing his arms with an approving smile.

“Because all of her images captured, like… hopeless faces and sad children and babies and shit.”

Okay, so… I can rewind time? Maybe? Somehow?

Wait, does that mean I can…?

Tentatively reaching one of his hands out again, he focused hard on going back even just a few seconds. Nothing happened for long enough that he almost felt like a moron, before swirling sepia overtook his vision for a second time and he stopped it in a panic. He tried to subtly whip his head around to see what had changed, only to realize his camera was back—unbroken—on the desk as Minx’s phone buzzed again for the third time.

“Now, can someone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition?” Minx put her hand up, but didn’t wait for Jefferson to call on her before she loudly announced,  “Diane Arbus.”

“There you go, Minx! Why Arbus?” Jefferson sat back on the edge of the front desk, crossing his arms with an approving smile.

“Because all of her images captured, like… hopeless faces and sad children and babies and shit.”

“She saw humanity as tortured, right?” Earning the nod of confirmation, Jefferson turned to address the rest of the class with an unimpressed frown. “Frankly, that’s bullshit, but keep that to yourselves.” Chuckling to himself, Jefferson pushed off the desk to continue lecturing as Ranboo felt his breathing hitch and speed up. 

This can't be real. No way. I'm dreaming or something, right?

“Seriously, though. I could frame any one of you in a dark corner and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn’t that too easy? Too obvious?” 

Ranboo picked his camera up off of the desk almost robotically, going through the motions of using the edge of his shirt to clean the dirty lens like he had earlier, the familiar repetitive motion easing a little of the churning panic in his stomach.

“What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach.”

“I’m personally not a big fan of hers, actually.” Minx’s voice held her usual smugness as she continued on, Ranboo doing his best to ignore the twist in his gut as he recognized her answer. “I prefer Robert Frank.”

“Me too, Minx. He captured the essence of post-war, beat America. You don’t have beauty without a beat. Which explains why Frank was Keroauc’s photographic muse, and both were the great—” The past repeated itself in one fell swoop, the light of Ranboo’s camera flashing as it whirred to life, once again taking an accidental selfie as confusion, shame, and panic broiled together in his stomach. “Shh, I believe Ranboo has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’.” Jefferson immediately noticed, but seemed to ignore the wide-eyed nervousness clear on his student's face. “A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Ranboo here has a gift.” He barely had any energy left to be embarrassed as a couple of students laughed and then looked away from him again, his frozen hands clutching the camera like a lifeline. “Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800’s. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Haha, sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Jefferson was the only one who laughed, the rest of the class not even bothering to give him pity points before he cleared his throat and continued, “The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it’s been around.” Finally thawing out a little, Ranboo’s shaky hands set his camera on the desk and pulled the distressingly familiar blurry photo out, shaking it a bit before slipping it into his journal, just like last time. “Now Ranboo, since you’ve captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Distantly knowing the answer but still on the verge of a panic attack, Ranboo stumbled out a meek, “Er, I’m sorry, but could I use the bathroom real fast?” “You can’t get out of it that easy, Ranboo.” Jefferson scolded lightly, but contrary to his words he opened the question up to the rest of the class. “Is there anybody here who knows their stuff?”

“Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created ‘daguerreotypes’, a process that gave portraits a sharp, reflective style. Like a mirror.” Minx answered confidently, and despite still not fully processing everything that had happened Ranboo was suddenly overcome with the urge to steal her answer and wipe the smug look off of her face. 

Dream or no dream, there should be no harm in me changing the outcome a little, right?

With an outstretched hand and a little more focus, Ranboo accepted the small headache he received when the blurring visuals around him stopped as he heard Jefferson ask again, “Now Ranboo, since you’ve captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“The Daguerreian process.” He answered after a moment of him pretending to be deep in thought, trying not to look too giddy as he continued, “Invented by a French painter named… Louis Daguerre, around 1830.”

“Well, it seems someone has been reading as well as posing! Nice work.” Jefferson smiled widely, Minx shooting him the nastiest glare she could muster from across the room. 

He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

“The Daguerreian process made portraiture largely popular because it gave the subjects clear, defined features. You can learn more when you finish reading the assigned chapters. Ranboo is already way ahead of the rest of you.” The compliment left a brief spark of warmth in Ranboo’s chest, despite knowing he fully stole the answer after zoning out for an entire hour lecture. Jefferson checked his watch, frowning. “‘Spose that’s all we really have time for today, so if you need to leave feel free to head out. But! Don’t forget your deadline to submit a photo for the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest.” Most of the students were already packing up as he continued, several people brushing past him to head out the door with phones in hand. “I’ll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you’ll be feted by the art world.” Ranboo opened his journal, taking one look at his fixed entry photo and slamming the journal shut again, glaring at it a little before shaking his head and sliding the journal into his bag alongside his notebook.

Didn't improve since I last saw it a few minutes ago.

“It’s great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography, so Charlie and Freddie: get it together. Poki, don’t hide, I’m waiting for your entry, too, and yes, Ranboo, I see you pretending not to see me.”

He lightly pinched one of his forearms, wincing at the spike of uncomfortable pain.

So… not a dream, then?

More focused this time—and determined to let Tubbo have his rest, Ranboo packed up his stuff as Minx all but chased Jefferson up to his desk. Trying to use Minx as cover just like last time, he ducked for the door only to hear—

“I see you, Ranboo! Don’t even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.” He grimaced, sulking back towards the desk as he didn't manage to escape having the conversation he didn't want to have the first time again. “I’d never let one of photography’s future stars avoid handing in his picture.”

“I just… I don’t think I have one.” Ranboo tried—only half lying, Minx crossing her arms and angrily waiting for them to finish talking. “You’re a better photographer than you are liar. Given your photo output, I’m sure you must have a thousand pics by now.” Jefferson chastised, and Ranboo glanced away in hopes the embarrassment on his face wouldn't be visible. “It’ll just… take a long time to find a good one.” Still not fully lying, Ranboo tried again, this time earning a defeated sigh from his professor.

“Okay, but don’t take too long. John Lennon once said ‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans’. So go ahead, don’t let me stop you.”

Frowning a little, Ranboo contemplated trying the conversation one more time as Jefferson turned his attention back to Minx.

Can't hurt to leave a better impression, right?

Sticking his hand out again felt less silly this time, and the swirling surroundings telling of rewinding time showed up with less focus and a smaller headache.

Must be getting better at this.

He felt himself shifting in physical space back towards his desk, stopping with a slightly gasping breath as everything solidified around him again.

Minx was tailing Jefferson to his desk again, and he smiled to himself at the success as he marched up beside her and steeled himself to start a conversation with Jefferson first. “Mr. Jefferson, excuse me. Could I talk to you for a second?”

“Yes, excuse you.” Minx huffed, but Jefferson put a hand up to cut off any nasty comment she was going to add.

“No, Minx, excuse us.” He turned his full attention to Ranboo, who tried not to shy away from it. “I’d never let one of photography’s future stars avoid handing in his picture.”

“I’m on top of it.” Ranboo lied through his teeth, putting on a smile as he continued, “I know that John Lennon once said ‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans’, so I’m just making sure that doesn't happen. I’ll have something for you soon.”

“You’re on fire today. All the right answers.” Jefferson clapped a hand onto his shoulder, smiling warmly. “Good. Just make sure you finish working on it by today, I have faith in you.”

“Thanks.” Ducking out of the classroom and putting his headphones in again, he made sure to select a different playlist to shuffle as he sped down the hall towards the bathroom.

If this really is the same, I've gotta stop Wilbur from shooting that guy in the bathroom.

Ignoring the familiar Halloween decorations and even brushing past the missing poster, Ranboo plowed through the crowds to get to the bathroom.

I should do as much the same as I can. What's the movie, uh… butterfly effect? Where the butterfly causes a world meltdown or whatever?

Probably should avoid that.

Taking his mask off to splash cold water onto his face again, Ranboo grounded himself as best he could before his thoughts could fly any further off the handle. He took a deep breath, wiped his face dry, put his mask back on, and tore his entry photo into just as many pieces and tossed it into the trash.

Speaking of butterflies…

The same blue butterfly came drifting down to the bathroom sink, Ranboo ready with his camera to take the same shot and scare the insect off as the camera whirred to life again.

He made sure the photo was fully developed before he tucked it into his journal, going ahead to hide in the corner of the bathroom and taking a deep breath.

Wilbur should be here any minute. I can do this.

He paced the small section of bathroom he could, listening intently for the moment the door would open and everything would repeat.

What could I possibly do that would get both of them out of the bathroom at the same time?

HIs racing plans all stopped at the same time as the door slammed open, Ranboo doing his best to hide out sight again as he heard Wilbur checking the stalls.

“It’s all cool, you got this… You’re okay, right? You got this.” Ranboo peeked around the corner to see him glaring at his reflection again, his glasses glinting in the awkward fluorescent lights. “You own this school! You could blow it up if you wanted, right? So what’s this little matter? Yeah… that’s right.”

At least it’s the same crazy as before.

The door swung open for a second time as he ducked out of view, listening to Wilbur and the stranger begin their rather odd conversation for a second time.

“So you're here.”

“Glad to be.” The stranger paused, pushing open one of the stalls. “We alone?”

“I already checked.” 

“Perfect! Then let's talk.” 

Okay, how do I stop them without drawing attention to myself?

“Whatever it is you want, I don't have it.” 

As the two argued, he slowly backed further and further away, before he felt himself bump into a cleaning cart that had been left in the empty area he was now occupying, the mops and other tools inside clattering loudly from the movement.

Panicking as Wilbur and the stranger stopped talking and had clearly heard him, he reached out his hand to rewind just a few seconds to save him from being the one to get shot.

Time slowing back to its normal pace a few seconds prior to his mistake had his heart hammering in his chest, his blood pumping loudly in his ears as he took a moment to collect himself. Turning around to see the cart he bumped into, he realized that he could see the raised indent in the wall that led down to a rather inconspicuous fire alarm that was hiding behind the yellow bag of the cart. 

Ranboo made sure he was extra slow and quiet as he pushed the cart out of the way, straining to listen to the conversation to make sure he didn’t need to rewind again.

“Then maybe you'd rather I tell everybody that Wilbur Soot is a punk-ass bitch who begs like a little girl and talks to himself—!”

“You have no idea who the fuck I am, or who the fuck you're messing with!” Wilbur was yelling, Ranboo not even needing to see to know that he’d brandished the gun for a second time.

“Whoa, where’d you get that? What the hell are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” 

The stranger’s panic urged him to move faster, finally getting the cart far enough out of the way he could finally reach for the white handle embedded in the red square on the wall.

“Don't ever tell me what to do! I'm so sick of people trying to control me!” 

“This’ll get you into so much more trouble than the drugs, so put it the fuck down.” 

He hesitated a little as he stuck his hand into the groove, realizing he could be in a lot of trouble if anyone caught him pulling the alarm for anything other than a fire.

There might not be any cameras in here, but is there a way they could find out?

“You think anyone could actually control what I do?! I can do whatever I want! I bet nobody would even miss your 'punk-ass', would they?”

The familiar words dismissed any concerns about his own reputation at the school, instantly pulling down on the handle. The shrill noise of the fire alarm caught all three boys in the bathroom off guard at the same time, the ringing high-pitched and incessant the moment the lever was pulled. Ranboo instantly peeked out around the corner, hoping that neither of them would notice him in the newly created commotion.

“No way…” Both of Wilbur’s hands clutching the gun lowered at the same time, giving the other guy a chance to knee him hard in the stomach. 

“Don't EVER touch me again, dickhead!”

In an instant the two were out of the bathroom, leaving Ranboo alone to try and catch his breath as the reality of everything started to sink in.

That did not just happen! His thoughts were screaming, slow steps carrying him out to the main area of the bathroom. Wilbur and the stranger were long gone, and he knew he needed to leave the building and hopefully not get caught for pulling the alarm. This can’t possibly be real! I just saw some dude get shot and then saved him after reliving the same boring photography lecture? What the hell is going on?! 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he shakily exited the bathroom and glanced around the hall, only to be met with a familiar security guard who narrowed in on him immediately. “Hey, do you hear that fire alarm? That means you’re supposed to be outside.”

“I just had to use the bathroom…” Ranboo mumbled awkwardly, trying to avoid the sharp gaze of Schlatt Madsen—who very obviously thought he was up to something.

Which, in his defense, Ranboo technically was. But he was still in the right for saving someone from getting shot, though that didn’t exactly sound like a credible excuse given the time travel.

Schlatt’s gaze was unrelenting as Ranboo tried not to fold in on himself, awkwardly shuffling away. “Freaks like you always use that excuse.”

“...I’m sorry, excuse for what, exactly?” Confused and trying to push down what was left of his whirlwind of panic, Ranboo gave him the most innocent eyes he could muster.

“For whatever the fuck you're up to. Your face is covered in guilt.”

Ahh yes, guilt. That’s the word for this immense panic-induced adrenaline rush I’m feeling after seeing some guy get shot in a bathroom and learning I can potentially rewind time. 

“The alarm freaked me out!” He tried to defend, only for Schlatt to take several steps towards him in a rather threatening manner. He felt himself stumbling back every time Schlatt got closer, trying to keep distance between them.

“Then hurry up and get out of here, kid. Or are you trying to hide something?”

“Thank you, Mr. Madsen, but the situation is under control.” The booming voice of the Assistant Dean of the Admissions Office Raymond Wells came from down the hall, giving Ranboo a much needed spike of relief. He’d met Wells when he started the semester no more than a month ago, but the aura of authority he carried could clearly calm the situation down. “There's no emergency here, so stop harassing students and please go turn off the alarm, since that's your job.”

Schlatt’s nasty glare didn’t temper at all even as he swept it over Wells, turning and stalking off down the hall to leave Ranboo and the assistant dean alone.

“You look a little stressed out. Are you okay?” Wells asked, Ranboo swallowing down the intimidation he felt as the alarm continued to blare.

“I'm just… a little worried about my… future.” He stumbled out dumbly, his panic only rising as he couldn’t quite figure out what to say.

“You're sweating pinballs. Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Ranboo.” Hearing his name on Well’s tongue was rather uncomfortable, and left an odd taste lingering in his mouth as he tried to swallow down his nerves for a second time. “Or have you done something wrong? Is that it? Either way, talk to me.”

It couldn’t hurt to tell him, right?

“Well, you see, I… I just saw another student waving a gun around in the bathroom.” Ranboo explained, the heavy weight in his chest lifting a little at the concern that crossed Wells’ face.

“Do you know who that student was?” “Yeah, I… I recognized him. Wilbur Soot.”

“...Wilbur Soot? Are you sure?” The weight returned at full force at Wells’ borderline skeptical look, seeming to be mulling something over in his head.

“Yeah. He came into the bathroom babbling like crazy, and then I saw that he had a gun and—!” Ranboo quickly continued, Wells eventually shaking his head and cutting him off before he could properly start to ramble.

“Okay, slow down, slow down.” Wells’ smile wasn’t terribly genuine, fear spiking in his gut as he realized he was too deep into the conversation to back out now. “So now you saw this… without him seeing you?”

“What? Yeah, I wasn’t going to let some crazy dude with a gun see me. I was hiding behind a stall.” Ranboo frowned as he realized he was now on the defense, annoyance starting to eat away at his panic. “It’s a public space so there’s nothing wrong with me being in there, I mean, it’s just a bathroom—” 

“I know, I know. I just want to be completely clear on what happened.” Wells sighed—as if bothered by Ranboo’s attempts to explain himself. “Mr. Soot happens to be from the town's most distinguished family, and one of Blackwell's most honored students. So it's hard for me to see him brandishing a weapon in the bathroom. What happened next?”

“Then… then he left.” Ranboo finished weakly, Wells’ hard gaze killing what was left of his resolve to get Wilbur in trouble. “I ran out here wondering what to do because that alarm went off. Are you gonna bust him?”

“This is a serious charge. I'll look into the matter personally. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Wells then turned to leave, Ranboo stepping after him in a now fully angry disbelief.

“Wait, that's it? After what I told you, all you’re gonna do is—?” 

“We'll continue this discussion, later, in my office.” Wells was clearly done listening, putting a hand up to cut off Ranboo’s indignant questions. “Please go outside with the rest of the students now, Ranboo.”

You have got to actually be kidding me…

Shoulders slumping in defeat and annoyance, Ranboo slowly trailed outside just in time for the alarm to finally shut off. He was quick to push open the front doors, only to find Minx and her group of friends sitting on the stairs and completely blocking his way out of the building.

This day just keeps getting worse. Should’ve stayed in bed, I guess.

“Ew, girls, nerd alert! Class suck-up and photo creep Ranboo, coming through.” Minx teased with a smirk, carefully placing herself in front of him as he tried to just push past the girls to leave. She crossed her arms, letting her two friends box him in on both sides as he sighed and resigned himself to whatever insults she had this time. “No one likes a fuckin’ teacher’s pet. Even Mark—I mean, Mr. Jefferson can see through your weird emo loner bullshit. ‘Is it… The Daguerreian Process, sir?’ No one likes a know-it-all.” 

Ranboo resisted the urge to pull out his phone to start scrolling, completely bored of her antics.

“Doesn’t help that you’re friends with that crazy horny fuckboy, whatever his name is. Takes a creep to know one, aye?” 

Despite his best attempts to keep himself calm, he couldn’t help but bristle at the comment on behalf of his friend. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Minx.”

“Oooh, did I hit a nerve, bitch boy?” She grinned, entirely unfazed by his comment. If anything, it egged her on to continue, “You look soooo mad, I should grab a pic so you can add it to your collection. You seem pretty shy for someone who’ll interrupt class to take pictures of their face. Is the mask ‘cause you’re fuckin’ ugly? Sparing the rest of us from having to see you?” The grin split her face nearly in half as she noticed the way one of his hands clenched into a fist around the strap of his bag, still glaring. “Oh! That gives me an idea! Why don’t you go fuck your selfie?”

Her and her friends laughed mockingly before parting enough to let him break through their wall, a bubbling anger just beneath the surface of his skin that had him glancing around for any opportunity at petty revenge.

His steps stalled as he noticed a sprinkler that started in the nearby greenery—under a large set of scaffolding that held a kindly janitor he recognized, who was climbing up a ladder to continue painting the front of the building—that almost hit the concrete front steps Minx and her friends had gone back to sitting on.

I bet I could do something with that.

Glancing around with his eyes to make sure no one was watching him as he approached the sprinkler, he reached his hand out forward and let the weird rush of rewinding time blur around him. Resisting the pull that would move him physically, he only let it go back a few seconds before letting the world come back into focus so he could crouch down in front of the sprinkler.

“Now, how to make this shoot out far enough to drench Minx…”

Quickly deciding the mechanism on top was too difficult to figure out, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching again and instead just dragged it out of its spot to position it much closer to the front steps on a slight angle aiming straight for the girls on the stairs.

Ranboo jogged out of the way with a grin just as it turned on, watching the water start spraying out wildly and, as intended, completely douse the three girls lounging there.

“Ugh, what the fuck?! Are you kiddin’? Look at this!” Minx complained loudly, running off the steps and starting to wring out her sweater with a sneer.

“Chill, Minx, it’s just water.” One of the two girls—QT, his brain supplied—tried to pacify only to be met with a huff of annoyance.

“Yeah, water on my cashmere!” Minx growled, shoving both of her friends away. “Do you know how much this fuckin’ outfit costs?” “But you still look… great!” QT tried, only for Minx to screech and walk away from the two as she tried to wipe as much water off of herself as she could.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me! Someone get me some towels or something!”

Ranboo lit up with an idea the instant he saw her standing directly below the paint bucket the janitor was painting from, grinning to himself as he reached out a hand to rewind back to when he was messing with the sprinkler. As time righted itself around him he was ready, tipping the sprinkler over with more ease than last time, before pulling out the wire handle of the paint bucket still on the ground and backed away as the janitor picked it up and the sprinkler prepared to go off.

Getting his camera out of his bag and waiting, Ranboo wasn’t disappointed as the sprinkler went off the same way and Minx cried out, whining again.

“Ugh, what the fuck?! Are you kiddin’? Look at this!” 

Ignoring the idle chatter of the girls, he waited patiently with camera in hand below the scaffolding for her to pace beneath the bucket once again.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me! Someone get me some towels or something!”

Lining up the shot, Ranboo’s timing was spot on as he lightly kicked the scaffolding when the janitor hung the paint bucket up, the busted handle giving way and the paint sloshing down to land directly on Minx’s head in a splatter of off-white.

“No way! No fuckin’ way!” Minx screamed again, Ranboo ducking out from under the scaffolding to triumphantly watch the mess from a little further away. “You okay, Minx?” QT asked in a panic, the other girl with them running off to head back into the building.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, mate. You alright?” The janitor scrambled down the ladder with an apologetic smile, grabbing for the bucket that was now rolling away. Ranboo vaguely recognized the man, reading the name ‘Phil’ off of his outfit. “Paint’s one of those things we like to keep out of hair, yeah?”

“Ugh! Get the hell away from me, weirdo!” Minx shook her head, spraying a little paint by accident as Ranboo snapped a picture from afar and finally burst out laughing.

“Sure, if you’d like me to. Have fun handling that by yourself then, mate.” Phil didn’t even bother with her, turning his back as she screamed incoherently, turning and storming off.

“Hold on, hold on, let’s get you to the dorms!” QT ran after her friend, Ranboo shaking out the photo of his prank.

“That’s what you get for talking about Tubbo, you stuck-up jerk.” As soon as the photo was clear, he tucked it away in his journal and headed on his usual path to the parking lot outside of Posvar, realizing Crumb’s class was probably already out and he was running late.

Taking a shortcut through the nearby park to get the adjacent building faster, he paused as he saw a guy tossing a kickball around by himself get a text on his phone and suddenly yell, “Man, fuck this shit!” before hurling the ball in a random direction.

Ranboo stood still as he watched the ball careen through the air before hitting its mark: his friend Charlie’s nose. 

“Ow! Fuck, that hurt!” Charlie dropped the book he was reading on the nearby bench he was seated on, his hands going up to cover his face with a grimace.

Thinking quickly, Ranboo reached his hand out to let time spin backwards, just long enough for him to get a warning to Charlie before the ball almost broke his nose for a second time.

The moment things were clear around him again, he heard the guy with the ball yelling in frustration, so he called loudly, “Charlie, move your head!” 

“Huh? I mean, sure…” Charlie looked up from his book, tilting his head to one side just in time for the ball to fly past him. His eyes widened in surprise, turning to face Ranboo with a startled smile. “Oh, shit! Thanks dude!”

I’m getting good at this!

Ranboo’s satisfaction lasted for only a moment, it all disappearing in the sound of shattering glass. Ranboo, Charlie, and the guy who threw the ball all looked over at the same time, seeing the shattered back window of the Fine Arts building where the ball had finally landed.

Whistling lowly, impressed, Ranboo left his camera in his bag and instead used his phone to snap a picture of the broken glass, intending to show it to Crumb as soon as he met up with her.

Right, Crumb!

He urged himself to pick up the pace, jogging across the weaving sidewalks to see how fast he could make it to Posvar. After finally passing through the gates to the parking lot, Ranboo paused as he heard not very well hushed yelling from around a corner of the building. Instantly curious, he felt himself start to drift in that direction, catching the tail end of what looked to be Schlatt towering over a student.

“—so don't think I'm blind! I see every single thing that goes on here at Blackwell!” Ranboo peeked further around the corner, the tufts of familiar brown hair poking out from behind the back of Schlatt’s security uniform causing him to pull out his camera and aim a shot down the thin road. “Do you understand what I'm trying to say?” 

“No way, man! Leave me alone!” Tubbo managed to shove Schlatt pretty hard, but the older man barely budged. Luckily, it was enough that Ranboo got a pretty clear shot of Schlatt reaching down to grab at one of Tubbo’s arms.

Tossing the camera and freshly printed photo into his bag in a flurry, Ranboo emerged from around the corner and jogged towards the two. “Hey! He asked you to leave him alone, or are you having trouble hearing?” 

“Excuse us, this is official campus business—” Schlatt started, the distraction allowing Tubbo to pull away from him with an exasperated glare.

“Well, excuse me, but you shouldn't be yelling at students, or bullying them.” Ranboo crossed his arms, Schlatt scoffing as he decided to quickly add on, “Jerk.”

“Hey, hey, nobody is bullying anybody. I'm just doing my job.” Schlatt was visibly tense with anger, his jaw clenched as Tubbo slowly inched further away from him.

“Yeah, right, sorry. I forgot that ‘harassing students’ was in a security guard’s job description.” 

“You're part of the problem, young man.” Schlatt cast one last glance at Tubbo before aggressively pointing in Ranboo’s face. “I will remember this conversation.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed off back towards the back door of the building, disappearing into one of the doors after swiping his ID. As soon as he was out of sight the tension in Tubbo’s shoulders eased, the uncharacteristic tiredness from earlier seeping back into his expression. “Geez… Thanks, Ranboo, that was awesome! I think you scared him for once…”  He smiled for only a moment before it dropped again, glancing around almost worriedly. “I, um, I have to go, but thank you. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.” Ranboo supplied in a tone he hoped didn’t betray his concern, Tubbo walking off and leaving him to pull the photo out of his bag and check to make sure the shot was clear.

What in the world was that all about? And what’s going on with Tubbo? I thought he was just tired, but this isn’t like him at all…

Tucking the newly developed photo into another page in his journal, he figured he could worry about it later and pulled out his phone as he backtracked towards the parking lot.

——

From: Crumb :D Hey, where are you? D:

You aren’t in the parking lot yet D:

To: Crumb :D Sorry! I’m running late ):

I’m on my way

I’ll explain in a sec I promise!

From: Crumb :D Hurry ):< !!

I’m waiting ):< !!

——

Tucking his phone away and picking up the pace, Ranboo ducked around the corner at the back of the building to make it to the parking lot. He looked around for a few moments before he spotted Crumb hovering over her own phone and clearly waiting for him.

“Crumb, hey!” Ranboo called, his shoulders sagging in relief upon seeing his friend sitting on the curb and waiting for him.

“Ranboo!” She bolted to her feet, opening her arms wide for a hug as he approached. He laughed quietly, bending down to give the much smaller girl the biggest hug he could muster.

She grinned as they pulled away, sitting side by side on the curb again. The Hawaiian patterned shirt she had on was large enough the short sleeves almost reached her elbows, the large excess at the bottom tucked into her shorts. Her smile was bright, the short ponytail keeping chestnut hair out of her face even as it whipped back and forth as she cheered excitedly, “I was waiting for you for so long! What kept you, jerk?”

“Sorry.” He apologized sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just… it’s been one of those days, you know?”

“Are you okay? Do you need to talk about anything that happened?” She instantly asked, her brown eyes blowing wide with concern. “I’m always here to listen.”

“Yeah, I guess I should air some of it out.” Ranboo slowly lowered himself down backwards until he was lying mostly in the grass, Crumb mimicking his movements a moment later. “Sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not! The doctor is in!” Crumb cheered, throwing one of her arms over Ranboo’s shoulders with a wide grin. “Dr. Crumb, at your service. Tell me everything, Ran.”

Normally her antics would have cheered him up, but the heavy sense of dread in his stomach that thinking about the dream brought him left him sighing and pulling away from her. “I will, just… do you mind if we keep anything I say between us?” 

“Hey, don't insult me like that.” Crumb playfully frowned, before rolling over onto her side to see him better and encourage softly, “You know I can keep a secret. Go ahead.”

“It all started after I had this… completely insane and super freaky vivid dream in Mr. Jefferson's class today. I mean, like… life changing, or something.” Ranboo felt an odd rush of relief as he voiced it aloud, Crumb listening intently from beside him. “Like… Have you ever had a dream so real that it felt like a movie?”

“Like… lucid dreaming?” Crumb asked, earning a soft headshake.

“I mean maybe, but it was more like—” Ranboo’s explanation trailed off as he saw Wilbur marching towards where he and Crumb were lying. All words about the strange dream were suddenly stuck in his throat, Crumb giving him a concerned look before they both sat up to face Wilbur as he rather angrily addressed them.

“Ranboo, right?” Wilbur didn’t even give Ranboo a moment to nod, adding on, “You're one of Jefferson's photo fucks?”

Crumb started to stand and get between the two boys only to be lightly shoved off to the side, Ranboo watching nervously. “...I'm one of Mr. Jefferson’s students, yes.” 

“Oh, who gives a shit? I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in bathrooms.” 

Ranboo’s stomach twisted into painful knots as Wilbur glowered down at him, a smug confidence painted across his face.

Did he see me or something? How’d he know?!

“It’s in your best interest to tell me what you told Wells. Now.”

“Hey man, there’s no need to get so worked up.” Putting his hands up in defense, Ranboo tried his best to defuse the tension as Crumb bristled beside him. “All I did was tell him the truth. A student had a gun.” 

“No, you told him I had a gun.” Wilbur stepped forward threateningly, Ranboo scrambling up to his feet and back over the curb with Crumb quick to follow. “That's why he dragged me into his office.”

“And what did he do? Give you a stern lecture?” The bitter laugh that followed Ranboo’s joke seemed to go over Wilbur’s head, who was ignoring him in favor of mumbling to himself angrily.

“Nobody… Nobody lectures me. Everybody tries, though. They try…” 

Something about Wilbur’s words had Ranboo backing up even further, moving slower in an attempt to keep Wilbur from thinking he was trying to run away—as true as that may have been. “I know that we’re not like friends or anything, but I’d like to politely suggest as one of your peers that maybe, just maybe, you should find someone to talk to.” 

“What? You think you got some sort of read on me? Don’t psychoanalyze me! I pay people for that.” There was no time for either Ranboo or Crumb to laugh at the accidental hilarity of Wilbur’s raving as he strode over to where they’d backed up to, one foot balanced on the crumbling curb. “Worry about yourself right now.”

“Whoa, hey. Personal space, man. I’ve got a big bubble, yaknow? How about we respect that?” The downright murderous air around Wilbur had words spilling out of Ranboo’s mouth before he could stop himself, anxiety churning in his stomach.

Oh please don’t let me get into a fight here, he’d so kick my ass even if he’s just as stupidly lanky as I am—!

“Oh man, that’s rich. You're telling me what to do?” 

Wilbur’s proximity was suddenly too close, Crumb finally balling her hands into fists and stepping fully between the two and shoving the taller boy as hard as she could. “Come on, get away from him, Wilbur!” 

Wilbur barely budged, instead slamming his head down to smack into hers, knocking her back to the grass outside the lot with a quiet cry. The panic in Ranboo’s stomach was the only thing preventing him from throwing a punch, instead reaching down to help his friend while irately demanding, “Hey! You leave her alone!” 

“Nobody tells me what to do!” Wilbur lunged forward before Ranboo had moved more than a step, his wide swinging arm not aimed for Ranboo’s face but instead the collar of his hoodie as he yanked him down to make—quite frankly, terrifying—eye contact and continue his rant. “Not my parents, not the principal, and definitely not that dumbass from the bathroom!” 

Already off balance, Ranboo was pretty easily thrown forward far enough to land face first against the pavement of the parking lot, his hands coming up just in time to catch him on the gravel as Wilbur hovered above him to contemplate his next move. The instant he hit the ground; however, everything suddenly blurred alongside the loud screeching of tires, a truck stopping less than 6 inches from running him over as Wilbur shouted another string of curses. Using the—thankfully—still cool hood of the truck, Ranboo managed to pull himself back up to his feet in the moment of confusion, leaning on his arms on the hood, before making eye contact with the driver. The two stared in a moment of recognition, silence hanging around everyone until the driver finally—

“Ranboo?” “Bill?” 

What’s Bill doing here? I haven't seen him in— Wait, was that him in the—?!

The staring match—and Ranboo’s insane swirling thoughts—were cut off by an enraged, “No way… you again?!” from Wilbur, who was glaring daggers through the windshield.

IT WAS?!

“Ranboo, get in!” Bill finally broke eye contact, sliding across the front seat as far as he could to throw the passenger door open, motioning at him frantically.

At some point in the hubbub, Crumb had gotten back to her feet, squaring up against Wilbur as she called, “Go! I got this!”

“You most certainly do not!” Bill accurately assessed from inside the truck, the girl deflating a little. “You get in, too!”

Ranboo didn’t need any more prompting to jump through the open passenger door and motion for Crumb to follow, making room for her at the edge of the seat. “Come on, Crumb!” 

The instant Crumb climbed in and shut the door of the truck Bill took off again, Wilbur managing to dive out of the way just in time as the truck swerved towards him before speeding out of the parking lot. 

“Aw shit, I missed!” Bill lamented, watching Wilbur graciously flip the three off through the rearview mirror and chuckling a little before letting the truck lapse into an awkward silence that was only broken by dropping Crumb off at the dorms.

“I’ll text you later.” Ranboo promised as Crumb hopped down from the seat, smiling up at him. “Take care of that head, okay?”

“Okay! See you soon.” She waved a little before jogging off down the sidewalk, wobbling a little. Bill waited until she was completely out of sight before driving off again wordlessly, eyes glued to the road in front of the two instead of saying anything.

“Alright, the silence is finally starting to get to me. Are we going to talk about it?” Ranboo blurted out after a minute, Bill uncomfortably shifting in the driver’s seat.

“Talk about what? I can’t think of anything.” Bill’s lie was awkward even to his own ears, him refusing to look away from the windshield as Ranboo sighed heavily.

“Come on, Bill, it's—” Ranboo suddenly cut himself off, hearing a familiar beat humming quietly through the truck speakers. “Is that ‘Eighth Wonder’?”

“Whoa, no, nope. Not even a little bit.” Bill cranked the volume down, but was a moment too late to stop Ranboo from grabbing his phone from one of the two cup holders, clicking the screen on to see—

“It is!” Ranboo smacked Bill’s hands away as he quickly guessed Bill’s passcode, going to his Spotify while pointing the other boy's attention back to the road. “You're listening to the playlist I sent you the other week! Are you serious? You’ve been practically MIA online for six months but you still have time for my music recommendations?!”

“I've been fuckin’ busy, alright?!” Bill exploded, the truck rolling to a stop on the side of a nearly deserted road. He then put them into park, finally turning to properly face his friend. “I'm sorry I haven't said much, but there's been… things, and shit… going on here. And we haven't exactly seen each other in a while.”

“I know, I know.” Ranboo sighed, running a hand back through his hair to keep the long bangs out of his eyes. “I just thought you'd be a little happier to see me. I waited 5 years to apply to Blackwell and move back here, but you seemed… less than thrilled I would be back here when I told you.”

“Sorry for wanting better for you than this shithole.” Bill crossed his arms, huffing. “But I am glad to see you, honestly. It's been too long. Your parents kinda sprung that move on us with no time to argue.”

“Yeah…” The familiar tense silence lapsed back into the truck, before Ranboo smirked and turned the volume on the stereo back up. “But at least you're still aware that I have the best music taste of anyone, ever.”

Bill groaned, thudding his head into the steering wheel. “Oh god, you're never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Absolutely never.”

Bill rolled his eyes at Ranboo’s grin, putting the car into drive and pulling back onto the road. “Um, is your friend going to be alright? She took a hell of a smackdown.”

“Crumb?” Ranboo asked, pulling his phone out to see a thumbs up text from the named brunette meaning she'd made it to her dorm. “Yeah, she’ll be alright. I totally owe her for that; Wilbur’s actually insane.”

“Any idea what he wanted from you?” Bill asked, glancing over at him as they merged onto the freeway. “Or was he just kicking your ass for fun?”

“Well, hopefully he doesn't want anything else after today.” Ranboo shrugged evasively, adjusting the bag between his feet. “How do you know him?”

“Oh, you know. He's just another one of those Arcadia assholes.” Bill dismissed, neither pressing on the way they both dodged instead of answering. “So… you get into that photography class you were rambling about when you applied? Jeff… Jefferson? Is that his name?”

“Mark Jefferson, yeah. I'm super excited to be one of his students. It's only been a few weeks but it's already my favorite class I've ever taken.”

“Then I'm glad. Semester been okay so far?”

“Yeah, think so.” Ranboo shrugged, opening his bag and digging around for his camera. “Today’s just one of those super weird off days, you know?”

“Yeah, it's the same for me.”

“Aw man, it's freakin’ busted.” Ranboo whined, carefully picking through the shattered pieces of the camera in his bag.

“Oh, it'll be fine. My step-dad has an assload of tools. Maybe you can fix it when we get to my place.”

“Okay, but I'd need very specific and very tiny tools.” Ranboo argued, before pausing and backtracking, “Wait, what do you mean ‘when we get to my place’?”

“You didn't say you needed to be anywhere, and between the five years you've been away from Arcadia and the six months I've been an unreachable jackass, I just kinda figured that um, maybe we could… catch up? Hang out? Talk?”

Ranboo glanced between his friend's hopeful smile, the speeding greenery outside the window, and the broken camera in his lap before nodding a little. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Epic!!” Bill cheered, taking the next exit and relaxing into his seat. “And, for what it's worth, Ran… welcome home.” 

Ranboo couldn’t help but smile at his friend even as his focus shifted back to the road, keeping a careful eye on the streets before pulling back into a still familiar driveway. Shutting the truck off and getting out, Bill waited until Ranboo was down before heading up to the front door.

“Well, here we are. Home, shit, home.” Bill grinned at his own joke, earning a quiet chuckle for his effort as he unlocked and pushed open the front door. “Come on in, don't be shy.”

“Wow, this place really looks the same. It’s… nice.” Ranboo commented, looking around the porch and up to the second story window above the garage.

Nothing here has changed at all.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“Who says you can’t be both?” Ranboo smirked, before gesturing at Bill—who was currently standing in the doorway and barring them both from entry. “Am I allowed inside or what?”

“Shit, yeah. Whoops.” Bill laughed quietly, heading inside and starting to head up the steps immediately to his left. “Just don’t take your shoes off til we get upstairs.”

The request was a little odd but Ranboo followed nonetheless, climbing up the carpeted stairs and rounding the top landing corner behind Bill to step into his room.

“Wow. Talk about a blast from the past.” Ranboo was impressed: nearly everything looked exactly the same as when he was last here. The bed pushed up against the wall by the window, a small desk covered in sprawling pages, and the floor completely covered in a mix of dirty and clean clothes. “I leave for 5 years and you don’t even change your sheets?” Bill went bright red in the face, tugging his comforter up further to try and hide the patterned blue sheets from view. “Hey! I’ve washed them since, at least once!” 

“That’s disgusting! Why would I ever agree to follow you in here?” The teasing banter flowed between them again effortless, both of them laughing before Ranboo trailed off as he noticed a new corkboard above Bill’s desk that held a good half a dozen printed pictures. “Those photos are new, though. Did I really rub off on you?”

“Oh! I guess you could say that.” Bill plopped down into his desk chair, waving his hands in the air in front of the board. “After you left, I started to understand why you always lug that camera around. Figured I’d give it a shot, even if I’m still pretty bad at it.”

“Um, do you mind if I’m a little nosy, just for a second?” Hesitant to approach, Ranboo gave Bill an awkward smile and glanced at the photos with his eyes.

“Can’t say no to you, my old but now new again friend.” Bill rolled his chair away from the desk, allowing Ranboo to approach and get a good view of each of the slightly blurry shots.

“Who’s that?” Ranboo asked after a moment, his gaze catching on an unfamiliar blond boy with an arm slung over a slightly younger Bill’s shoulders, the selfie angle a little awkward but managing to get the two grinning boys in frame. “I feel like I’ve seen his face before, but I can’t place it.”

“Oh.” Silence hung heavy for a long moment, before Bill finally sighed and got up from his seat. “Uh… his name’s Tommy. I’m sure I mentioned him a lot, he kinda… filled the void after you had to move. Haven’t heard anything from him in a while though.”

“Oh, geez. My bad, I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject like that.” Ranboo instantly apologized, grabbing his friend’s closest shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “You okay?”

“Dunno. It’s been 6 months. I’m mostly just mad, I think.” Bill accepted the gentle squeeze with a smile, pulling the tack out of the photo to hold it in his hands. “If he was going somewhere he’d have said something, I know it. But the fucker just said he ‘met someone who changed his life’ and then vanished.”

He’s the kid from the missing poster I saw earlier back at school… 

“That’s really weird. I just wish you’d told me.” Ranboo left Bill alone to stare wistfully down at the photo, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and taking his bag off to set it on the floor. “I’ve been worried about you for ages now, and I would’ve listened if you wanted to talk about him.”

“Ah yes, tell my best friend who had to leave about the best friend who took his place.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on either of them, Bill rolling his eyes before continuing, “It felt, I don’t know, weird or some shit like that. Without you, it was just the two of us here. We were gonna kick this world’s ass together, you know? He couldn’t have been more different from you.”

“I get it. At least, I think.” Pulling up one of his legs onto the edge of the bed to begin unlacing his converse, Ranboo gave Bill the most apologetic look he could muster while looking around his knee. “Just wish I could’ve been there for you when you needed it.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Tugging one of his shoes off and moving to the other, Ranboo awkwardly tried to shift the subject to literally anything else. “...you said something about tools to fix my camera?” 

“Yeah! They’re in the garage, I’ll help you look.” Bill seemed relieved to be chatting about something else, kicking his own sneakers off and leaving them by the door before grabbing Ranboo by the arm and dragging him back down the steps.

The awkwardness of catching up melted away as the two chatted away in the garage, hunting around a poorly painted workbench for the camera tools Bill knew were hidden in there somewhere. The instant the small set was untucked from the back corner it’d been pushed into, Bill whooped and cheered in success while Ranboo tried to shove him away playfully. 

The two then rushed back upstairs, Bill spreading the tools out onto his desk—after carefully moving his laptop away—while Ranboo picked out all the camera pieces from his bag.

Bill lounged on his bed after putting the spotify playlist from the car back on, scrolling idly on his phone while Ranboo carefully fiddled with the broken camera on the desk.

Eventually, Ranboo tossed the tools down and leaned back as far as the chair would let him, visibly frustrated. Bill was quick to stand up and look at the wreckage over his shoulder, curiously asking, “So?”

“I officially give up. I don’t think I can fix this thing.” 

“Whoa hey, you still keep up that photo journal?” Bill suddenly jumped subjects, noticing the notebook poking out of Ranboo’s now open bag. “‘Course you do, stupid question. Mind if I take a look?” 

“Yeah, go for it.” Ranboo pushed back from the desk a little, still glaring at the remains of his camera as Bill pulled the journal out and began excitedly flipping through pages.

“Hell yeah! Let me see… These are awesome!” As Bill was scanning over every page, a few of the recent and unsecured photos slipped out of the later pages, Bill apologizing and setting the journal down to pick them up. Ranboo also bent down to pick them up, but froze as Bill was staring intently at the butterfly picture from the bathroom. “Wait, isn’t this… one of the bathrooms at Blackwell?”

“Huh?” Ranboo chuckled nervously, snatching the photo away from him and starting to find the blank page it’d been tucked into again. “Ah! I mean, uh, yeah. Took that today or whatever.”

Bill watched his friend’s flustered face for a long moment before something started to dawn on him, his eyes widening. “...did you pull the fire alarm? Were you in the bathroom with us? Is that why Wilbur tried to beat your ass in the parking lot?!” 

“...maybe?” The offer sounded weak even to Ranboo’s own ears, holding the journal up in front of his face to hopefully block even some of his embarrassment and panic from view. “Look, it was an accident and I wasn't trying to interrupt or anything but I was already in there and then Wilbur just came in and—”

“You saved my life, Ran!” The journal was knocked out of Ranboo’s hands as Bill lunged forward, pulling him into a huge hug. “Thank fuckin’ hell you were there!”

“...oh.” Ranboo froze for a moment, before slowly hugging Bill back and then pulling away. “I mean, I didn't really do much… I just took a picture of a butterfly and hid in the corner.”

“Ninja Ranboo, coming through!” Bill jumped back to his feet, posing goofily as Ranboo rolled his eyes and went to pick his journal up again.

“Oh come on, a ninja would've cut Wilbur's head off. I just took a picture and hid!” After making sure all the photos were back in their place, Ranboo set it on the desk to keep it from being knocked around any further. “My heart full on stopped when I saw that he had a gun.”

“Wait, did you recognize me?” 

“Not really… You look a little different than when we were 13.” Ranboo shook his head, pulling his hoodie a little tighter around him as the memory of seeing Bill shot flashed through his mind. “I was also so terrified I couldn’t see straight… Wilbur’s completely off the rails.”

“Whoa, I’m not mad or anything. Like you said, it’s one of those days.” Sitting back on the bed, it was Bill’s turn to look nervous as he asked, “So how much of what we said did you overhear?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s not like it all made much sense to me anyway. All I got was something about money and drugs.” Ranboo shrugged, tugging on his hoodie strings to keep his hands occupied. “It’s a bit of a blur after he pulled the gun out, but I ran into one of the guys from Admissions who happened to be in the building to report Wilbur, but…”

“Well first of all, I’m so fucking glad you’re alright.” 

“I should be saying that to you…” An odd sense of relief coursed through him upon hearing his friend’s concern, watching the way his shoulders also finally slacked a little. “Hell of a way to meet again.”

“You can say that again.” Bill turned the music down on his laptop, very interested in the screen and refusing to make eye contact as he mumbled, “I’ll, uh, tell you more about that mess with Wilbur later, alright?”

“Only if you want to.” Ranboo said gently, packing up the tools on the desk and brushing his camera parts into a pile. “I know things aren’t what they used to be.”

“Well one thing I’m sure hasn’t changed is your birthday. That’s coming up, right? I’m like two months off, but it still counts.” Bill was off the bed in a blink, digging around underneath it until he finally found the box he was looking for, blowing some dust off the top and opening it. “Here. It’s my mom’s camera. If you can’t fix yours, I’d like you to have this.”

Ranboo instantly shied away from the open shoe box as Bill presented it to him proudly. “Bill, there’s no way I could take this…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I know my mom would be pissed if I never used it, so maybe she’ll rest a little easier with it in the hands of the king of photography.” 

“But it’s still too much, you really should keep something like that.” Ranboo tried again, but his friend huffed loudly and clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Can’t I give my best friend something important to me?” Bill shook the box in his face one more time, before sighing and setting it in his lap and picking up the photo journal. “Fine, if you’re going to whine I’ll take that butterfly picture as compensation. How’s that?” “I… If you really insist.” Ranboo was too busy staring down at the camera in the box to care about Bill flipping through the pages to hunt for that specific picture. “This camera is really amazing, Bill.”

“Then I’m glad it’s in your professional hands instead of my clumsy ones.” Bill finally pulled out the shot of the butterfly, beaming all the while.

“Thanks. It really means a lot.” Ranboo carefully turned it on—surprised it was still in perfect working order, with film in the back and everything—before quickly turning to snap a candid shot of Bill grinning down at the photo in his hands. Bill looked up, surprised, as he heard it whir to life, but Ranboo blocked his view of the snapshot as he cradled it in his hands and waited for it to develop. 

He made sure to stick his tongue out for good measure.

The moment was over as swiftly as it began, the front door to the house slamming open and a loud voice yelling from downstairs, “Hey! Bill! Are you up there?!”

Is that… Schlatt? Like security guard from school Schlatt?

“Oh, fuck.” Bill paled, quickly pulling a very confused Ranboo to his feet before shouting back, “Depends! What do you want?!”

“I'm coming up, we need to talk!” 

That’s definitely Schlatt… Wait, does that mean he’s Bill’s step-dad?!

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Bill had started to panic, Ranboo sharing in the feeling at least a little bit. “You really should hide. My step-dad will freak out if he sees you.”

Bill then ran to the door, slamming it closed as it started to open, wrestling to keep it in the frame long enough to lock it as he gestured with his head for Ranboo to hurry up. 

“Bill? What's going on? Open your door, please.” Schlatt sounded exhausted, trying the handle several times before giving up and knocking.

“Ugh, dude, I'm changing! Is that not okay?!” Bill complained loudly, before lowering his voice to a hushed whisper to half-yell, “Ran, find a place to hide, now!”

Ranboo finally spotted two solid closet doors, yanking them open and sighing in relief as there was just enough space between the walls and the excess amounts of clothes for him to fit inside and be out of view.

“Bill, what are you doing?” 

“Didn’t I already say? I'm coming!” Bill eyed Ranboo squeezing into the closet, still pressing up against the door, seemingly in case Schlatt decided to try and bust it down. 

“No, you're stalling.” Ranboo could easily picture the way Schlatt was impatiently tapping his foot from the other side as he finally pulled the closet doors shut. The slats in the door had just enough space between them that he could see out, watching as Bill continued to argue loudly through the door.

“I'm changing! Gimme a minute!” 

“Don't be a smartass, just let me in. Now, please.” Schlatt knocked again, much louder than before as his agitation grew.

“Can you give me a fuckin’ second?!” Bill knocked back just as loud, checking to make sure Ranboo was hidden before making a last minute decision and kicking his shoes under the bed. “I'm not screwin' around here. Open this door.” Before Schlatt could knock again, Bill unlocked the door and yanked it open with a little more force than necessary. “Now was that so hard?”

“What do you want, jackass?” Bill crossed his arms, not moving away from the door to keep Schlatt blocked in the doorway.

“I’ll be blunt.” Schlatt also crossed his arms, glaring down at Bill. “One of my guns is missing. Did you take it?” 

“What? Why would I take one of your stupid guns?” Bill didn’t even seem bothered by the glare, easily keeping the intense eye contact as Ranboo felt himself have to look away. “I’ll have you know I’m a firm believer in gun control.”

“I’m not trying to be a hardass on purpose, Bill. But if you took the gun, I really need to know.” Schlatt tried again, an actual note of concern in his voice that seemed to momentarily break his normally pissy exterior. “You could get hurt or do something else equally as stupid.”

“I don’t want anything to do with your shit! You always grill me about this kinda stuff without any proof.” Bill didn’t seem to pick up on it—or at least, didn’t care to, trying to slam the door in Schlatt’s face.

“Clearly we can’t continue this conversation like adults.” Schlatt caught the door easily in one arm, leveraging it back open as Bill hissed and let go. “Just know I’ll be talking to your dad when he gets off work.”

“Oi! You leave him out of this!” Ready to throw a punch, Bill tried his best to keep his hands clenched at his sides as he yelled, “He deserves better than the likes of you!”

“Be happy that I’ll chalk this disrespect up to teenage rebellion and not because you have something to hide.” Schlatt ignored the clear threat, rolling his eyes and dismissively tipping his head back with a sigh. “Cause if you did steal it, I’ll find it.”

Clearly intending for that to be the last word, Schlatt then turned to leave and walked off down the hallway. Bill, clearly still pissed, shouted, “Yeah, and stay out!” after him, before slamming the door and going to throw himself onto the bed with a frustrated sigh.

Ranboo took the newfound silence as his cue to squeeze out of the closet, taking a seat beside his friend on the bed. “Geez, Bill, you okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. He’s always like this.” Bill rolled over onto his back, glancing down at Ranboo with a weak smile. “I’m just glad he didn’t catch you in here.”

“He doesn’t like uninvited company?” 

“You have no idea.” Bill sighed, before sitting up with a newly energized smile. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? Now that Schlatt’s here the peace is kinda ruined.” “Count me in.” Ranboo agreed, still feeling a little tense from all three of his encounters with Schlatt that were much too close together for his liking.

“Out the window?” Bill offered, going to open it as Ranboo dug under the bed for his abandoned shoes.

“It’ll be just like old times.” He grinned as his head popped back into view, then sitting himself down on the floor to put his shoes back on and pack up his bag.

No less than 20 minutes later the two teens broke through a clearing of trees, giggling as they raced to the top of a winding path through the forest to hit a rocky outcrop that overlooked most of Arcadia Bay.

“Welcome back to the coolest spot in town!” Bill cheered as they both stopped, equally as breathless from the run. “You remember the last time we were here? We had to hide up here for like three hours until those kids stopped chasing us!” 

“Well, yeah! You popped their basketball after it hit you in the face! If we didn’t hide, you would’ve gotten your butt kicked!” Ranboo laughed between panted breaths, doubling over as he struggled to recover.

I really haven't been here in forever… So then why does it feel like I was just here?

He looked around in confusion, before the tall trees and the no longer distant figure of the lighthouse started shifting in his mind until—Wait… isn’t this the exact same path I was on when I had that crazy dream in Jefferson’s earlier? 

It’s like I’m dreaming again, but… covered in less mud.

By the time he’d caught his breath again and managed to calm his heartbeat from both the run and the recollection of his nightmare, he looked up to realize Bill had already found a seat on a bench overlooking the cliff. The sun was finally setting, mild pinks and oranges painting the bottom of the pale blue sky, the distant trees making for a beautiful skyline as Bill was a perfectly positioned shadow in front. 

Ranboo had the new camera out before he could even think about what he was doing, lining up the breathtaking shot and snapping it. He let the peace in the air be as the film developed, taking extra care to slide it into his journal before putting everything away and sitting down beside Bill to take in the sights properly.

“Sure you don't want some alone time?” Ranboo asked after a long moment, to which Bill was quick to shake his head and sling an arm over his shoulders.

“Nah. I just found you again, and I don’t intend on scaring you off that fast.” 

“I’m glad you seem to be in a better mood now.” Ranboo smiled, still staring off at the sky but letting himself lean against his best friend, at least a little bit.

“Yeah, well, I'm out of that damn house and here with you.” Bill shrugged, also keeping his eyes on the sunset. “That’ll bring anyone’s spirits up in an instant.”

“Yeah… Schlatt's a pretty mean guy.” 

Bill scoffed, leaning back a little further and tipping his head back to stare up at the darkened sky above. “I'm sorry you had to experience his wrath firsthand.” 

“Okay, but you have to live with him.” Ranboo countered, carefully slipping his bag off of his shoulder to let it sit on the bench on his other side. “Has he always been like this?”

“Yeah, if you could believe it. Guess my dad was desperate if he’s all he could find here. I never really trusted him.” 

“Makes me glad I got a snapshot of him flipping out on a friend of mine at school today.” 

“Aw, yeah!” Bill cheered, sitting back up straight and adjusting so he was now facing Ranboo as best he could on the bench. “Maybe I can finally get Ludwig to ditch his ass if he sees what a dick he is.”

“Yeah. He’s got some kind of weird agenda.” Ranboo shrugged, pulling his feet up to sit criss-cross after a minute of struggling to get situated.

“He's got a load of secret files.” Bill glared off at nothing in particular, pulling only one of his legs up to help him sit at the odd angle. “Guess the fucker thinks he’s some sort of spy or something.”

“I hope you figure out whatever his deal is. He doesn’t seem like a good guy at all.” 

“Just makes him one of many.” Silence fell again, but it was much less awkward this time even if tension still hung heavy in the boys’ shoulders. “There’s like three good people in this town, and you’re one of ‘em, along with your friend who took the heat in the parking lot.”

“And I’m assuming the last person on that list isn’t Wilbur?” Ranboo tried to joke, but the actual bubbling nerves caused it to come out a little strangled and awkward.

“Oh, not by a long shot.” Bill didn’t comment, choosing to mess with his hands in his lap instead of looking up. “He’s an elite asshole, and gets off selling bad shit to people who don’t know any better.” He snorted a little in disgust, before abruptly falling quiet and taking a long, deep breath before continuing, “And… he dosed me with some weird drug a couple nights ago.”

“Wait, what? Are you okay? What happened?!” Ranboo was quick to question, ducking his head to try and make eye contact with Bill—who kept staring rather resolutely at his lap.

“Look… I met with him in some shithole bar that didn’t card me. He was clearly too rich for the place and drunk off his ass.” His explanation was much quieter than his normal boisterous tone, but the only other noise on the outcrop was the quiet rustling of the late summer breeze. “It’s my fault. I thought he was absolutely plastered, and mistook him for an easy score.”

“...how much do you owe?” 

“Three grand, give or take the interest. Otherwise known as a metric fuckton.” There was no humor in his voice, not even bothering to attempt a joke to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. “He must’ve slipped something into my drink when I was distracted. Next thing I know I passed out on the floor and woke up somewhere else. That dickhead was mumbling to himself, taking pictures of me with this insane grin. I almost managed to kick him in the nuts, but broke a lamp instead, which caused him to freak out. I was able to somehow force the door of that weird place open and get out, but it’s all fuzzy. It was fucking… awful, Ran, it was crazy. Like… what the actual hell?”

“I’m… really sorry. That’s horrible and I can’t believe something like that happened… I mean, I do believe you wholeheartedly, I just… you know what I mean.” Ranboo’s rapidly blossoming worry and panic had the ramble tumbling out of him before he could stop it, shaking his head before asking, “But then what was that meeting in the bathroom about?”

“Well, I figured I could make him pay me to keep quiet about the whole incident. He wanted to meet on campus, so I figured it was fine.” 

“And he brought a gun?” Ranboo continued, though they both knew his question was entirely rhetorical. “So why didn’t you call the police? That’s… surely that’s grounds to get him arrested at the very least, if not—”

“It’s useless, man.” Bill cut him off, shaking his head with a sad sigh. “He’s got a powerful family and all that nasty shit.” 

“But how are we supposed to deal with this by ourselves?!” 

“I mean… we did. You were there. You saved my life!” Bill’s head shot up so fast Ranboo thought he heard the bones crack, grabbing for his friend’s hands with a small grin.

“Feels fated, somehow, that we ended up back together in such a messed up way.” Ranboo stared down at where his hands rested in Bill’s, blinking as he felt his eyes starting to unfocus a little.

“If there really is fate or destiny or whatever, I… hope that we end up finding Tommy. I really miss him, you know?” Bill was the first one to pull away, throwing both of his arms over the back of the bench and looking back up at nothing. “This shit-pit has taken away nearly everyone I’ve ever loved… I’d like to drop a fucking bomb on Arcadia Bay and turn it to glass!”

Ranboo’s brain was mush, any coherent response dying in his mouth as his vision began to swim before abruptly going black as he felt himself falling… asleep?

He shook his head to try and clear the sudden sleepiness, blinking his eyes open only to realize that he was no longer on the bench with Bill, but back at the bottom of the path up to the lighthouse in pouring rain. 

Oh man, not again…!

Why the hell am I here again?! What’s happening?

The same urge to go up the path was present in his chest again, one of his hands coming up to shield his eyes as he spotted a deer running out of the treeline and stopping in front of him on the path. The two made eye contact for a moment, before a strange sensation—Follow me—washed over him. He couldn’t figure out what drew him forward as the deer trotted up the path, keeping it in his sights even as the howling wind threatened to knock him over as it bent trees on all sides of him.

By the time he and the deer made it to the top of the overlook, he turned his head to see the giant, dark gray tornado engulfing the town below—same as last time.

The tornado…! It’s back?! This can’t be real, there’s no way!

Ducking out of the way of small, falling debris, he saw the deer sniffing a piece of what looked to be newspaper that was caught against the side of a rather large rock at the base of the lighthouse. Ranboo quickly jogged over to the rock, pulling the paper off and clenching it tightly in his hands to try and get a read on it. The headline was too blurry for him to focus on, instead seeing the date of the paper seemingly highlighted in his vision.

“October eleventh…? That's this Friday!” Ranboo muttered aloud, losing his grip on it as it then fluttered away to join the oncoming storm below. “That's only four days away…”

Horror gripped at his heart, panic desperately clawing up his throat as the odd combination of realism meshed with the surreal feeling of the dream—no, vision—and the sinking weight in his stomach that threatened to rise out of him in a stream of vomit.

“Oh god…” He muttered, watching as the storm grew more violent, the high pitched whistling of the wind almost a scream as he realized—The tornado is headed straight for the town—!

In an instant there was the familiar weight of a hand on his shoulder and the storm was gone, his vision blinking back to the bench he was still seated on, his head awkwardly bent forward as he tried to groggily sit up.

“Ran? Ran! What happened, are you okay?” Bill reached to cup his face, looking him over with worried eyes and a frantic tone. “You totally blacked out for a second there, scared the piss outta me!”

“Bill! You’re… you’re here. This is real…” Ranboo took a few deep breaths to ground himself, gripping the bench beneath him tightly. “I… I had this weird vision, thing. Another one, really. The whole town is going to be wiped out by a tornado!”

“Come on, Oregon gets like… 2 tornados in a century.” Bill laughed incredulously, trying to suppress his own panic as Ranboo started to deflate. “You spaced pretty hard. Maybe it was some kind of dream?”

“No, I… I saw it!” He tried again, his eyes pleading with his friend to understand the truth of whatever weird nightmare he’d just experienced. “I could feel the electricity in the air, and the wind and the rain and the— oh my god…”

“Hey, take a breath, okay?” Bill grabbed his shoulders again to pull his focus away from his swirling thoughts, mimicking a deep breath as Ranboo followed along shakily. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You probably think I’m crazy, but… there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“You can tell me anything.” Bill promised honestly.

“I had a similar vision in my class earlier today… Being here at the lighthouse with the approaching tornado.” Ranboo started, refusing to make direct eye contact but constantly peeking up at his friend’s expression to wait for it to fall into disbelief. “But last time, after I came out of it… I… I discovered that I could reverse time.” The thought voiced aloud sounded strange even to his own ears, despite the heavy weight off his shoulders that came with finally, finally telling someone. “I’m not crazy.”

“But you were high, right?” 

“No, that’s—! Listen to me. It’s how I managed to save you in the bathroom!” 

Bill blinked a few times, clearly trying to process everything Ranboo was saying, even as he struggled to follow along. “By reversing time? Ran, come on.”

“I saw you get shot, Bill! I saw you die! I freaked out so hard but I managed to go back enough to pull the fire alarm…” Ranboo choked back the sob that had been threatening to escape him since his first encounter in the bathroom, Bill grabbing his hands and squeezing comfortingly. “I don’t know what this is, but I have something. And it’s terrifying, Bill. I’m so scared…”

“You sound like you really need a break, man.” Bill shook his head, squeezing his friend’s hands again with a quiet, “It’s been an insane fucking day, and—”

Whatever else he wanted to say quietly trailed off as a perfectly white flake of snow fell down between the two of them. They both looked up at the same time, Ranboo pulling one of his hands free to catch one of the snowflakes before it hit the ground, the two of them staring at it in a mix of shock and awe.

“What… the hell is this?” Bill stood up, eyeing the light cloud cover overhead and the still slowly disappearing sunset. “It's like eighty degrees… How?”

“Climate change.” Ranboo joked weakly, wobbling a little as he got to his feet beside Bill, the two standing side by side on the cliff and staring out again at the sun as its light began disappearing ray by ray into the trees. “Or a storm is coming.”

Bill glanced over at Ranboo, the disbelief in his eyes slowly giving way to a grim understanding as he spoke, “...start from the beginning, then. Tell me everything.”

[kumzume]

m-m-MAKING SUB BRAT EREN THINK HE'S GOT YOU IN HIS TRAP BUT ITS REALLY THE OTHER WAY AROUND⁉️

want you ft. eren yeager

AAAAAAA !!1!1!!1!2!2!2!2!//?;:: the way i’m creaming rn ong (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

ఌ cw;; kinda stalky/yandere-ish eren?? he’s obsessed lmfao, femdom (obv), brat eren, humiliation, degradation, sadistic!reader, light impact play, dubcon photography (it wasn’t discussed beforehand!!), rimming

ఌ an;; this was just supposed to be me answering an ask but this is like,, a full ass fic LMFAO idk how many words tho but enjoy <33

eren is used to being the one leading girls on - makes them feel like they’re everything to him after he carves his name into their pussy with his cock, only to completely ghost them immediately after.

he loves being wanted, loves being sought after, chased but he’s not looking for a relationship. he’s too “damaged” and “jealous” and “clingy” for love - he wouldn’t be able to treat you right. or at least, that’s the speech he gives the real desperate girls, the ones who chase him across campus with tears in their eyes, begging him to give them a chance.

with you, he assumes it’s going to be the same. you take a class with him - american lit; it’s an awful class, one he generally tries to sleep through when he actually attends the class (until you show up, but that’s neither here or there) - but you’re quiet, studious. sits all the way in the back of the class, listens to the lecture, then puts your headphones on and gets to work.

you’re exactly his type.

he notices you in class on monday, furiously taking notes with different colored pens, highlighters, your notes meticulously written and organized with the precision of a previous gifted kid. he grins and turns back to face the front, making note of your position and seat.

on wednesday, he’s in class early, earlier than you (which is a feat in and of itself) and plants himself in the chair beside yours, spreading out the neat looking notes he stole from armin (they’re for an entirely different class but he doesn’t think you’ll notice. you do.) to make him look like.. well, you.

you only give him a brief glance before settling down and setting up your own things, pen poised at the ready for any and all information your professor will give.

eren copies your position and takes down notes just like you. pen, highlighter, sticky notes, pen, highlighter, sticky notes, pen, highlighter, sticky notes, until the class is over, you’re packing up your things and he still hasn’t spoken a word to you.

connie and jean laugh at him when he tells them about the situation. “you actually took notes dude? for a girl?” and so on and so forth. he turns bright red in embarrassment and buries his head in his arms, briefly wondering if this whole thing is even worth it. then you walk past the coffee shop window and you’re laughing and smiling and eren almost feels like shitting his pants.

so, he continues. every class, without fail, he finds himself sitting next to you, taking notes and listening to the lecture until the end of class when you leave without a word or a glance.

it’s frustrating. can’t you tell he’s trying? so hard? some days he purposefully forgets his pen so that he can ask you for one, to which you reply, “take better care of your things yeager.” you said his last name. you know who he is. he feels his cock throb in his jeans.

absently, he notes he’s never been this invested in a conquest before. usually, he doesn’t even have to try. he just bats his pretty, long lashes, flashes them a crooked smirk, shakes his hair from his bun, and they’re putty in his hands.

you, though. you’re different.

he’s not sure what it is about you that has him so.. obsessed. he thinks about you constantly, he follows you through the quad in a hoodie so you can’t recognize who he is, he even memorizes your room number and notes where you put your spare dorm key. it’s insane, eren knows, but he just can’t. he can’t let you go.

in class, he’s barely making any progress but that’s okay. he’s willing to wait it out for you.

luckily for him, he doesn’t have to wait too long.

your american lit class is assigned a project, one that should last over the span of four weeks and your professor assigns you and eren together.

it’s like a dream come true.

you exchange phone numbers and social media accounts but you’re just as closed off in text as you are in person. he doesn’t doubt he can break your steely resolve with cute messages and charming selfies but he just wishes you’d show him a bit of the energy he gives you back.

if only just a drop.

———-//-———

it’s a tuesday night and eren is bored.

he debates on messaging armin or connie to hang out but armin is studying for his exam on criminal prosecution and connie is probably fucking his girlfriend in the back of the library. he briefly entertains the idea of hanging out with jean but the thought makes his stomach turn and a bad taste grow in his mouth. no, not him. then who?

suddenly, his eyes widen and he lunges for his phone, opening up a familiar contact and sending a text, the little gray box joining the rest of unanswered messages covering his phone screen. it isn’t enough to deter him though as he settles down for a response, a satisfied little grin on his face.

it takes much shorter than he anticipated for a text to come through, the little ping sending him scrambling and unlocking it eagerly, ready to consume whatever you have to offer.

me (8:39p): hey!!!!! what r u doin????? i’m bored :(

literature baddie <3 (9:08p): Homework. Like you should be doing.

me (9:09p): hw is so lammmmeeee ;((((

me (9:12p): come hang out w me!!!!! :D i’m a lot of fun promise :))))))

literature baddie <3 (9:19p): I’m not leaving my bed.

me (9:20p): thennnnnnn

me (9:21p): can i come over?????

eren waits with bated breath for the response - most of him realizes the chances of you actually saying yes are slim to none but.. he feels good about this. maybe, his work is finally paying off and he’ll have you in his grasp, just like he wanted all along.

the phone pings. he jumps.

literature baddie <3 (9:32): Door’s open.

euphoria overtakes him. holy fucking shit, you actually said yes. he leaps out of bed and pulls on his most flattering pair of gray sweats (they frame his dick print just right), pocketing his phone and then darting out the door.

being incredibly eager, he doesn’t realize you never told him your dorm building or room number and he definitely shouldn’t know where it is, but he can’t let this opportunity pass. he practically runs to your building across campus, arriving at your door with a sheen of sweat across his skin and a pretty pink flush over his face.

before he can even knock though, you open the door, clad in only an oversized tee shirt and fuzzy socks, your gaze sharp and searching as you pull him in.

everything is moving so fast, so fast that he doesn’t notice this.. alertness about you, this aura that you’ve never shown him before. you’re always meek in class, quiet, but this is so not that.

you stalk around him, like a predator to its prey, before stopping by the foot of your bed, arms crossed across your chest and a dark look in your eyes.

“you’re a fuckin creep, you know that yeager?”

…what?

you - you know? his heart stops in his chest and he debates running for the door but when he sees your face - hungry, feral - suddenly, eren wants to see where this goes.

he gulps before shaking his head in denial despite knowing good and well he’d crossed the threshold of “normal” a long, long time ago. he knows you know it too, judging by the disbelieving scoff you let out, your head tilting to the side as you stare him down.

“and now you’re lying to me. pathetic.” you shake your head in disapproval and the sight makes eren want to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness but - but that isn’t what he does. that isn’t who he is. he’s the one who makes girls cry, he’s the one who laughs a little too long and a little too condescendingly at someone confessing to him.

who do you think you are? fucking with the eren yeager? he’ll never bend to your will, not even if his life is on the line. (distantly, he recognizes that this anger welling up inside him was absolutely your intention, if your smirk is anything to go by, but he’s getting too pissed to care.)

it’s his turn to scoff, stepping up closer to you. “i’m pathetic?” he laughs, patronizing, and takes another step. “you’re the bitch who invited me over in the first place. what, were you hoping you’d get a taste of my cock? well newsflash,” — another step — “only good girls get the pleasure of me giving them the best dicking of their lives. and let’s not kid ourselves. we both know,” — he leans in to whisper in your ear — “you’re not fucking good.”

eren pulls away, a satisfied smirk crossing his lips but it falters when he takes in your expression. you look like you’re about to burst into laughter - your eyebrows are raised, you’re biting your lower lip and you look like you took none of that seriously, his ego taking a massive hit.

your grin widens as his falls. “are you done? feel better about yourself now that you’ve put up a fight?” you ask, voice dripping in sugar coated condescension. when he doesn’t respond, you nod a little to yourself, lifting your hand to pat him on the cheek just on the right side of hard, leaving his cheek stinging as you pull away.

“good.” you move from his front to walk around his body, your eyes sharp and appraising as you look him over. eren stays still, body taut and thrumming with unresolved anger but he doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his life. you finally come back to your first spot directly in front of him and you cock your head in his direction, seemingly coming to a decision.

“here’s what’s going to happen: i am going to give you the best orgasm of your life, you are going to leave and we will never, ever talk again. you’ll stop following me, stop talking to my friends about me,” —how did you even know about that?—“and you will change classes so i won’t see have to see your disgusting ass during my week. am i understood?”

despite your harsh words, eren nods eagerly at your terms. honestly? he believes the whole situation is a net positive - he gets to sleep with a hot girl (who is, yeah, admittedly really fucking mean but he’s leaking pre in his boxers so it’s still a positive) and he doesn’t even have to worry about you trying to date him after it’s over.

it’s the best case scenario, one that already has him pulling down his sweats and boxers, his fat, leaking cock springing free and hitting his abdomen. he hisses at the feeling of the cool air sweeping over the head of his tip, his hand wrapping around it and pumping it gently while his hips jerk in tandem, eyes sliding to half mast.

he knows he looks good naked, knows he looks even better jerking off but you look wholly unimpressed, sitting down at the foot of your bed, still fully dressed and playing on your phone. he’s not expecting the way his cock jumps in his hand at the sight of your obvious inattention but that familiar anger wells up alongside the arousal, his hand reaching out to snatch up your phone and tossing it back on your bed.

you look up at him, pissed, and pride wells up in his chest. he moves forward to taunt you, to rub it in your face that he finally got a reaction out of you but you stand back up to face him, slapping his own hand away from his cock and replacing it with your own. his hips push his length into your loose fist with a sharp moan, his arms wrapping around your shoulders to hold him up at the new sensations zapping down his spine.

in this new position, your lips are positioned right by his ear, giving you the perfect position to whisper things that he never imagined would make his legs shake and whines escape. “you just wanted my attention, is that it? wanted someone to fuck you up like you deserved? like the slut you are? no one else could do this to you like i can, no one.”

he knows you’re right, of course you’re right, and the thought that he might never get this again makes him sob out, his cock frantically chasing your hand that’s rapidly jerking him off. eren feels his hands gripping a little too hard at your arms, fingers digging into your skin, and you stop. you fucking stop. you tighten your grip at the base of his dick to hold him off (yes, he was close already) and he chokes on a cry.

you let go of his now purpling cock, leaving it bobbing, before maneuvering out of his grip. you ignore his babbles and pleas to walk behind him and push him onto your bed stomach first, his erection hitting the cool, soft sheets beneath him with a gasp.

eren doesn’t know what you’re going to do to him, his confusion and arousal only intensifying when you position yourself behind him, dragging his lower body up by his hips so that he’s presenting for you.

it’s humiliating - his cock hangs hard and heavy in between his thighs while his hole clenches like it knows it’s being watched. no one has ever - he’s never even thought of putting anything up.. there and he definitely wasn’t planning on it anytime soon but..

he tries to lift himself up on shaky arms and protest but he’s stopped by your palm at the back of his head, slamming his face down into your pillows. he gasps but can’t breathe, your cotton pillowcase pressed flush against his nose and his eyes squeezed shut.

you laugh at his sputtering before lifting your palm from his head and walking back to where his ass is raised and on display, your hand coming to slap the twitching hole, making his entire body jump and lurch forward. he moans, loud, long and unexpected - why did that feel so good? but as most good things with you, it didn’t last.

he listens to you rummaging around behind him before hearing a very deliberate shuttering sound - a photo, the flash briefly illuminating his tan skin. his eyes widen in fear and he tries to sit up again, a choked, “w-what-?” leaving his lips but you ignore it, ignore him, to slap at one of his asscheeks. hard.

it stings but his cock isn’t going soft - it’s getting impossibly harder - and it’s disorienting. eren is confused, hard, humiliated and most of all, afraid, a cocktail of emotions that he’s never felt before and that make it nearly impossible to move, impossible to escape.

but does he even want to?

eren doesn’t have time to examine that thought process because before he knows it, the wet, warm slide of your tongue makes its way over his furled hole. you lap at it, make it loud, messy, and he can feel your spit slipping down between his cheeks and dripping down his balls.

it’s a little gross but it feels so fuckin good, he doesn’t even care you now have a picture of him like this, exposed for you, to use as you please. all he’s focused on is your tongue pressing past the rim of his ass, the feeling of you stretching him open - even just a little - making his arms buckle beneath him and his mind race.

he knows you said this would be the only interaction like this the two of you would have but eren can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you inside him, fucking him hard and deep, using him how you want and absolutely destroying him.

that thought - one of your cock pressing inside him, inch by agonizing fucking inch - sends him hurtling towards the edge, a puddle of precum steadily leaking from him pooling on the sheets beneath him as he babbles anything he can get past his lips.

“o-oh god, please - fuckin please, l-let me cum, fuckfuckfuck, wanna c-cum for you - all for y-you-”

you laugh meanly against his hole, the feeling vibrating through him and making his eyes roll back harshly. his whole body is trembling with the weight of his arousal and his need to cum and thankfully, you choose to grant his wish.

you pull away briefly - making him sob out a whine - only to push two fingers into his loosened, sloppy hole. “look at you, dirty fucking slut. cum, cum right fucking now.”

your words, in tandem with your fingers zeroing in on his prostate and pressing against it, has him cumming immediately, his orgasm crashing over him and overwhelming him, his cock releasing spurt after spurt of cum onto your blankets.

it’s electric and consuming, his body taut and shaking with its strength, while you finger him through it (a kindness he knew you didn’t have to, and wouldn’t afford him again), carefully bringing him down to collapse face down on your bed, to fall asleep in a pool of his own jizz.

he’s never passed out from an orgasm before but he can’t bring himself to mind when he wakes up, loose-limbed and pleasantly relaxed. eren cringes a little at the stickiness accompanied with the copious amounts of cum he’d spilled on your sheets only the night before but ultimately ignores it. nothing could bring his mood down, not even the lack of your presence.

eren sighs and moves to clean himself up and get dressed before you return but something on the nightstand catches his eye. it’s the picture you took of him, his back arched and darkened rim on display, asscheeks red and splotchy from your attack on them and his cock heavy and hanging between his thighs.

it’s unexpectedly hot and his length gives a little interested twitch against his thigh, heat curling in his belly. there’s clearly no time for that now though, so he folds it carefully and places it in his phone case, only to recognize another piece of paper, strategically placed by your lamp.

his eyebrows furrow in confusion as he picks it up, unfolding it and reading over it carefully. it’s a class transfer form, already filled out in your clean, clear handwriting, just awaiting his signature at the bottom left.

despite himself, a grin spreads across his lips. now faced with the prospect, with the very idea of never seeing you again, he knows it’s not gonna happen. eren has you, and now that he does, he’s not going to let you go.

the cum dries sticky on his inner thighs. he signs the dotted line. he smiles.

@kumzume — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify or claim as yours. please refrain from copying my works and themes.

[spidernerdsblog]

Paper rings

A/N : Happy valentines day!!💗💗💗 Based on the song by taylor swift. This can be read as a continuation to when worlds collide. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : Peter proposes to you.

Pairing : tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : fluff

It’s valentine's day as your eyes roved around the apartment going through a mental checklist.

Wine decanted— check.

Dinner table set— check.

Marinated chicken placed in the oven— check.

Side dishes sitting on warmers— check.

Everything looked good so far. Taking a deep calming breath you poured yourself a glass of wine and stood near the window as you waited for Peter to come home.

It felt so surreal to you at how time flies away when you are at the right place with the right person. It's been five years since you confessed your feelings for each other and life has never been better for you. You’re happier and content which had you thinking about the first time you met Peter during the freshman year of your undergrad.

It was the beginning of your fall semester. After the grueling morning lectures you were in dire need of some caffeine and decided to make a stop at the coffee shop. Few minutes later with your favorite frappuccino in one hand you walked out of the shop deeply engrossed in texting your best friend making plans about going out tonight.

You weren’t paying much attention on the road ahead and barreled straight into what felt like a wall, a rather warm and solid wall. You lost your footing and tumbled back, the cup of coffee slipped out of your hand. Letting out a small squeal you closed your eyes, bracing yourself to fall on your ass. But it never happened, instead a strong arm was firmly wrapped around your waist.

Slowly you opened your eyes and they fixed upon a strikingly handsome face looking down at you with an unreadable expression. Brown messy hair, sculpted jaws. His dark rimmed glasses framed his warm honey brown eyes as he held you in a close embrace.

Ignoring the little flutter inside your chest you noticed not only did he save you from landing on your ass he had saved your coffee too. He was holding your coffee cup in his other hand.

“Ooh nice reflexes.” you blurted out instantly realizing how inappropriate it sounded. He lets you go as you stand upright. “I-I mean I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s ok.” he responds with a clipped tone adjusting his glasses. Quickly he handed you your coffee and walked away without saying another word.

“That was weird.” you mumbled to yourself and made your way back to the science building.

You had biochemistry in the second half. Taking your seat you brought out your laptop and checked out the lesson plan your professor had mailed you. Just then you caught sight of the guy you bumped into earlier today. You felt the familiar flutter inside your chest when his tall, brooding frame walked past you making his way up the hall and slumping on a seat at the back.

And just like a moth to a flame you were attracted to his animosity. His deep brown eyes seemed to hold a thousands of secrets and you wanted to know them all. You found his name to be Peter Parker and he had the same schedule as you.

For the next week you secretly observed him as he would silently sit through the class, take down notes and leave as soon as the class got over, never bothering to talk to anyone. There were a few times you thought of going yourself and talking to him but you didn’t want to ruin this silent cat and mouse game you’ve got going. It was weirdly exhilarating.

You’d have cried stalker if it’d have been anyone else but something about his mysterious silent demeanor appeared sexy to you. You couldn’t help but stay up all night stalking his socials. You were glancing through the various photographs on his instagram page. You had to admit he had impressive photography skills. You scrolled down further to see if you can find anything about his personal life, friends, family or a girlfriend— which you wished he didn’t have. To your dismay you didn’t find anything about his personal life. A certain photograph of a graffiti wall piqued your interest as you tried to enlarge it and accidentally double tapped on the post.

“Shit!” you just liked a six month old photo. You face palmed groaning because now he would clearly know you were stalking his profile. And as luck would have it you were paired with Peter for your annual project the next day.

According to your short text exchange you were to meet at the library to discuss your project. Peter was already seated at a corner desk as you made your way towards him.

“Sorry I’m late.” you sat across from him setting down your coffee cup and pulled out your things from your tote bag. All this while Peter continued to write in his notebook silently.

“So how was your day?” you asked, trying to make some small talk.

“Fine.” he replied, not even bothering to look up his notebook.

What’s with his one word answers? you wondered.

“You seem to be in a mood.” you remarked, taking a sip of your coffee.

That caught his attention as he finally looked up. “What?”

“Well… you know.” you gestured toward him. “You look like you're in a bad mood.”

“No I am not. What makes you think that?” He frowned.

“Well you haven’t been particularly sunshine and daisies since the time we met for me to think otherwise.” you quipped but he didn't respond and got back to making notes.

“So what’s with the fake glasses?” you pried further and Peter stopped writing but before he could open his mouth you talked over him. “And don’t deny it because I’ve seen you working without them just perfectly fine.”

“None of your business.” he shrugged dismally but you weren’t going to give up so easily.

“It is my business. You’re my project partner and I know nothing about you. What if you’re a wanted criminal disguised as a genius nerd to escape the law? It’s always the quiet ones they say.” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Or maybe all the variety of sugar you consume daily is messing up your brain.” he said pointing at your caramel latte. He used to notice your coffee orders and that little piece of information made your heart flip as a mischievous smile danced through your lips.

“Haww Mr. Parker, have you been stalking me?” you looked at him with mock surprise.

“No I-I mean you…” he stammered for a second but was quick to gather himself quickly, focusing his eyes on you “and what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You stalk people’s instagram accounts. How’s that cool?” he said accusingly.

He saw the notification. You cringed internally but didn’t let it show on your face.

“It’s not stalking, it's just pure admiration for art.” you said confidently.

“Oh yeah?” mirth danced in his eyes.

“Oh yeah. I’m kind of an art enthusiast, you know.” you shrugged coolly. “And Parker, your photography skills are very impressive.”

And then something miraculous happened. You witnessed Peter laughing for the first time. It wasn’t just a smile but a full belly laughter as his whole body shook. And it must have been the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

“You’re such a smartass.” he shook his head smiling.

“I know you fakeass.” you grinned.

“These glasses belonged to my dad. He passed away when I was seven.” he said with a distant gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “So now that I’ve proven my innocence can we focus on our project?”

“Yes sir, enlighten me with your knowledge.” both of you bursting out into laughter.

The memory still brought a smile to your face. You love how your relationship evolved with time from complete strangers to best friends to lovers. Everything felt so natural with him as if you were meant to find each other like this. You still remember the time he asked you to move in with him. It was like any other day you were hanging out at his apartment, books scattered everywhere in the living room as you worked on your dissertations.

“You know you can just stay at my place.” he said out of nowhere.

Your brows drew together. “Are you asking me to move in with you, Peter?”

“Maybe.” he shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

“Well Mr. Parker, in that case you gotta put a ring on it first.” you lifted your left hand twirling your fingers in front of him. “What if you change your mind later?”

“I would never do that,” he grimaced.

“How would I know? What if I snore at night and you don’t like it?”

“You and your weird logic.” he shook his head smiling.

“It’s not weird, it's rational thinking.” you countered and suddenly his eyes twinkled.

“Then maybe we should do a trial run. You know, like an experiment.” He tore a page from his notebook and started to make several precise folds.

“What?” You watched him with confusion, his brows furrowed fully concentrated on whatever masterpiece he was creating.

A satisfied smile etched his lips when he was finally done as slid down the couch and got on his knees in front of you. Holding out a perfectly folded heart shaped paper ring he said. “Y/N Y/L/N will you move in with me?”

“You’re silly.” you giggled at his sweet gesture.

“C’mon woman I’m serious.” he huffed. “It may not be an actual ring but my feelings are genuine here.”

“Ok. ok now don’t get so bossy let me think.” you pretended to think for a while as Peter gave his best puppy eyes to you.

“Yes Peter, I’ll move in with you.” you said as he smiled widely and slipped the ring on your finger.

A tap on the window broke your reverie and you saw Peter perched on the fire escape. You quickly opened the window to let him in.

“Hey” he knelt down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“How was your day?”

“As usual,” he shrugged. “Oh hey I brought you these.” he pulled out a bouquet of red roses from his backpack which clearly didn’t withstand all the swinging around across the city.

“Oh… they’re lovely.” you remarked looking at the slightly wilted flowers.

“Beautiful right?”

“Yes they are.” you agreed nodding your head.

“They weren’t nice.” he hung his head low disappointed.

“No…” you tried to cheer him up.

“I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine you made it on time, that's all that matters to me.” you circled your hands around his neck and pulled his mouth on to yours kissing him deeply. The timer of the oven went off making you pull apart.

“I hope you’re hungry?” you mumbled against his lips.

“For you? Always.” he grinned cheekily.

“Shut up.” you smacked his chest lightly. “I’ll put these in water. You go and change,”

“Okay ma’am.” he sauntered off to the bedroom while you put the flowers in a vase.

You were arranging the dishes on the table when Peter appeared behind of you and slid his hands around your waist.

“Smells great.” he said, rubbing his nose against the column of your neck as your body fell pliant against his. You did not fail to notice how good he smelled, like soap and something so him. It’s such a turn on for you. You turned around in his arms as he dipped down to capture your lips gently. Sucking your bottom lip he plunged his tongue into your mouth eliciting a soft moan out of you. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss. You gripped on his biceps as your tongues stroked against each other in a perfect rhythm. The kiss grew hot and heavy and Peter pulled back with a grunt.

“Keep kissing me like this and we might actually have to skip dinner.” he said huskily.

“You gotta wait till dessert tiger.” you bite your lips mischievously.

Dinner went well. The whole time Peter kept on showering you with praise of how good the food tastes. That you have magic in your hands which makes you blush. Finishing his glass of wine Peter looked at you intently for a moment as if he was deciding on something.

“Y/N I brought something for you.” he said, bringing out a blue velvet box out from his pocket and placing it on the table.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you glanced between the box and Peter with wide eyes. “Peter… is it?”

“Open it.” He urged.

You opened the lid to find a paper ring exactly like the one he had given you two years ago. “Seriously?” you huffed rolling your eyes as Peter chuckled. “Very funny. I really thought you were going to propose.” You pouted disappointedly.

“I am, babe.” he smiled.

“With a paper ring?” you looked at him skeptically.

“Uh huh.” he nodded and knelt down holding up the ring. You were sure he was joking as you couldn’t help but start laughing.

Your relationship has always been fun and easy going. You never expected too much from each other. It’s like you built a little world for yourselves where you can act silly and no one is there to judge you. These little moments of joy, laughter and intimacy is what you cherished.

“Y/N will you marry me?” he asked sincerely.

“You're in luck Parker ‘cause I'll marry you even if it's a paper ring.” you snickered. But soon your laughter died down when he slid in an actual ring encrusted with a small diamond which sparkled in the warm light of the room.

An audible gasp escaped your mouth. “OH MY GOD PETER!”

Peter was now smiling widely as he spoke. “Y/N I never thought I would experience love again in my life. But then you literally bumped into my life with your sugary frappes and warm smiles. You were like a ray of sunshine after a dark stormy night. When you are around I feel happy, I feel home." Warmth bloomed inside your heart as traitorous tears slid down you eyes. "Every moment I spend with you are the most precious memories of my life. And I never want to stop making memories with you so Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?”

“YES! YES! A thousand times yes!!” You nearly shouted and sank down on your knees, grabbing his face and crushing your lips to his.

You don’t remember much after that, only you were laughing and smiling as you tugged at each other’s clothes. Laying on the bed with Peter on top of you kissing and touching everywhere, everything felt peaceful and passionate all at once. If you could, you'd like to live in this blissful moment forever. You spent the night intertwined, a mix of limbs and bedsheets and soft sighs.

You weren't sure when you had drifted off to sleep but you woke up in Peter's arms. Sunlight filtered through the blinds and splashed across his skin as his chest gently rose and fell. His brown hair sticking out all over the place as his mouth slightly hung open. You took a minute to admire this beautiful man, your man to be specific as you glance at the sparkling ring on your ring finger. It instantly makes you feel giddy as if it’s all a dream. But the one thing you know is very real, that is your love for each other and you can’t wait to spend your forever with him.

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Thank you @beej88 for allowing me to use her absolutely amazing art for this post 😘

Non-Senshi AU is one of my favourite tropes in @floraone 's matrix, HOWEVER, I had to balance adding stories to this post as well as keeping some in my back pocket to be used for the upcoming weeks. So if you are not seeing a story that you absolutely love, do not worry - you will most likely see it somewhere in these series. This theme was chosen by @areptiledysfunction1107.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Pass the Syrup, Please - @wishwars

Mamoru runs into a grown-up Usagi at the hotel he is staying at while interviewing for a new position. His plan is to try and comeback to Tokyo, having spent many years away due both school and work. This leads to a long weekend-worth of reconnecting with old friends, crossing paths, hurt feelings, and realizations for both.

just an instant gut reaction - Hariboo

A fun Dance themed AU where Mamoru is desperate to find a new partner for his showcase after Ami ends up on crutches. Minako is too busy with her own performance, Rei is a singing major, so who could they be talking about that could help him?

The Heatwave - @reiokiscorner

Usagi has just finished high school and is trying to make the best of her last days of freedom with her best friends before she starts in the photography faculty at the university. Except she is filled with self-doubt, it is crazy hot, and Mamoru is (shockingly) not being very helpful with his snide comments. I really hope that we get that Epilogue someday that @reiokiscorner talked about in her chapter notes. (Side note: this story has actually inspired me to take a photography class with how amazing the technical side of it was written out! I am starting to making progress, right @areptiledysfunction1107​?)

Hikari 27 - @uglygreenjacket

Usagi meets a handsome stranger on a train back home after visiting Makoto to help her set up her new bakery in Osaka. Making a snap decision, she decides that she needs to try and see him again and with Ami’s help finds where he is giving his lecture. This kicks off a tale about train stations, brief visits, and miscommunication that may lead to heartbreak unless Mamoru figures out how to open up.

A (Blind) Date with Destiny! - @daikon1

Minako (a friend Usagi met in university) sets her up on a blind date with Mamoru, without realizing that the two knew each other years ago. Both decide that this is the perfect opportunity to try and make new first impressions on the one person they still can't stop thinking about years later, as they proceed to pretend that they do not actually know each other. It is one of my favourite stories to re-read when I need something light-hearted with a happy ending.

took a faithful leap / i carry you in my heart - tosca1390

These stories are parts 1 and 2 of a Political AU with Usagi running for office on an anti-corruption platform and Mamoru meeting her at the hospital he works at with Ami, and getting pulled into her orbit. We get to watch as our favourite duo figures out a precarious balance of being together in spite of their circumstances.

Next week I am going to cover a few of the currently in progress multi-chapters that have been updated in the last 12 months that I keep hoping to see new entries posted up for, which is technically part 2 to my Unfinished Stories post from September.

Sex Positivity

Established Relationships

Groundhog Day

Darker Stories

Potions 🧪

Reveals

👻Halloween🎃

Wrong Perceptions

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

notoriously yours | jay park

✰ summary: jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally.

so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)?

and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore?

✰ pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. members of enha]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhoodbestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au

✰ warnings: cursing, nothing suggestive but jay's a fuckboy so slightly suggestive themes, mentions of parental neglect/leaving, it's hella long (and i thought my last fic was long)

✰ wc: 14.7k (how did i get it this long oh lord)

✰ author's note: picture creds go to original owners/editors! peep that edit of jay that lowkey inspired this entire fic 👀also this took me so, so long bc i lost motivation half way thru and bc college is a thing,,,so i honestly don't know how to feel abt it so pls bare with me :')))) ALSO the dividers are weird bc idk how to add more than 10 pics for the dividers so pls excuse those ٩(× ×)۶i hope u guys enjoy!! <333

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

Jay Park is a rich kid.

Jay Park has enough to buy every textbook he needs for his courses without having to look up the free versions online. Jay Park has enough to bribe his professors to let him pass every class with a perfect 4.0 GPA (but because the boy has morals, he doesn't). Jay Park has enough to afford a car to drive to his furthest class from his dorm building instead of walk or bike like every other college student, meaning he also has enough to afford a parking spot on campus (those things aren't cheap!).

Jay Park walks around your school's campus like he owns the place (and considering the amount of money his family has donated to the school, he practically does), looking like he just walked out of your local coffee shop's newest fashion magazine. His blonde hair is never seen untouched, his attire usually consisting of an undoubtedly high-end all-black fit, accessorized with multiple earrings and rings that probably cost more than all the overpriced textbooks you had to rent out this semester. It's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park.

Bottom line is, Jay Park has everything.

Well, his friends beg to differ.

In their eyes, Jay Park has everything but a simple factor in the equation of love (or whatever love is to the minds of a couple of 19 year olds): commitment.

So yes, it's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park. Because everyone knows he's the campus' rich fuckboy. (What's a college fanfic campus without one anyways?)

Jay doesn't go unreminded of this by his friends, to the boy's annoyance.

Jay is aware of this on a Sunday afternoon, in his dorm building's first floor lounge, where he and his said friends are having a study session.

They're doing anything but studying.

In fact, no one has any books out or anything. Not a single laptop in site.

"You don't think it's the slightly bit concerning?" Jake's words are muffled as he continues munching on the fried chicken that he spent majority of this study session debating if he should have it delivered through UberEats or not.

"I really don't, no," Jay shrugs as he continues mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed. They're having the same argument conversation that they've revisited multiple times over the course of their friendship, one that Jay has been lectured on too many times for his own good. He thinks his friends could become his new parents if they really tried.

"Look at it this way, okay. You're about to graduate college in a couple of years, into the big world. Like the actual, adult world. And that means you'll have to settle down. Which you can't do when you. have. no. commitment!" Jake punctuates each word with a single clap of his hands, desperate to get his point across.

Jay simply rolls his eyes. He looks over to Sunghoon, who's minding his own business, not bothered by the same topic he's heard over and over again. His eyes tell Jay you're on your own, in response to his blonde-haired friend's look of despair.

Jay thinks that maybe he should get new friends. Yes, that's the only solution here.

"My love life," Jay reaches across the table for a drumstick from the greasy tub seated in Jake's lap until Jake swats his hand away, "is none of your business. Also, ouch."

"Uh, it kinda is. Because of you and your reputation around campus, it kinda affects us, your best friends. How do you think we look, hanging out with the guy who's known to ghost every girl in existence after one night with them? No offense to you," Jake deadpans to him. Jay mentally reconsiders the term best friends.

Tough love. Jay tells himself it's tough love.

"Yes, because every girl totally hates Jake Sim, the teacher assistant of a physics class who volunteers at the pet shelter every Sunday and brings their pet golden retriever to campus every two weeks," Jay rolls his eyes at his Australian friend.

Jake sighs. "Okay, then I'm coming from a place of worry for you."

Jay groans. "Again, none of your business!" This doesn't stop Jake. He comes from good intentions, really, but Jay wants nothing more than to stuff the kid's mouth with some of that chicken to shut him up.

"What are you gonna do if one day you meet someone you like, genuinely like, and you screw yourself over because you've never been in an actual relationship before? A real, committed one. Like one that lasts at least three months."

"You don't think I can last three months in a relationship?" Jay questions the boy currently taunting him.

"Honestly? No. What's the longest relationship you've been in?" Jake cocks an eyebrow at his friend across from him.

One month and two weeks. But Jay's smart enough to not say that out loud.

"I can so last over three months," Jay mutters more to himself than Jake.

Jake laughs at that, pausing to take another bite of the drumstick in his hand. "Jay, I am willing to actually bet you. Bet that you wouldn't be able to." He leans back on the couch, the ball now in Jay's court.

Jay freezes, looking up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at Jake.

"Forget it, Jake. He's not gonna agree even if you offered him money," Sunghoon finally perches from beside him. Well he's not wrong. It's not like Jay is exactly in need of more money, per say.

"What kind of bet are we talking here?"

Sunghoon's right. Jay doesn't need the money, but he does hate being wrong. Even if it's over something as stupid as this matter.

Caught off guard by the blonde's answer, Jake blinks blankly at him and takes a second to think.

"Hmm..what about...what about if you can date someone for at least three months, and I mean an actual, committed relationship, then I'll do all of your physics homework next semester."

Jay's eyes sparkle at that. If there's anything he despises more than commitment, it's physics.

"And if I win, you have to buy all of my textbooks," Jake sits back from the edge of his seat with a smirk lying on his face.

Jay pauses to think about it. I mean, what does he have to lose? A couple hundred dollars over college textbooks? No. Because he just simply won't lose.

And maybe he'll learn what it'll be like to actually be in a committed relationship for once. Maybe he'll finally learn what it's like to actually devote yourself to someone, open up to them. He shivers at the thought. Never mind. He'll warm up to it. Baby steps.

Nonetheless, what could go wrong? Even if he does lose, at least his money would be going somewhere productive––towards his friend's education. Jay was probably gonna use that money on something useless like a blanket that resembles a tortilla (a burrito blanket, he calls it)––something he doesn't necessarily need, but must have, he would argue.

"Fine. Whatever, okay. Deal," he grabs Jake's extended hand in front of him and shakes on it.

Jake's impressively smiling at the boy as Sunghoon lets out a sigh, in disbelief with the two guys he calls his best friends.

Jay concludes that this will be easier than his Introduction to Photography 101 course he took his freshman year. How hard is it to find someone to date the Jay Park? Surely, everyone will be lining up once Jay switches his FaceBook relationship status from "it's complicated" to "single".

Turns out, it's not as easy as his class where all Jay had to do was take pictures of a pretty sunset, slap a VSCO filter on, and call it a day.

He comes to this realization on a Wednesday evening, as he's seated at one of the many study tables lined in the middle of the campus' library, staring down at his phone's dry iMessage app, with his laptop and blank sheets of scratch paper scrambled across the entire table, as an attempt to look half as studious as the other students studying in the facility.

Turns out, being known as the campus' fuckboy who ghosts every girl on campus isn't a good thing when it comes to wanting to find a real relationship.

He comes to this realization after failing to receive a single text back to the many ones he sent out throughout the first half of his day. The ghoster gets ghosted. Oh how the turn tables.

Jay groans dramatically as he tosses his phone on the hard surface of the table, earning himself a harsh shush from the librarian filing books in the aisle beside him.

He sheepishly smiles back as an apology, directing his attention back to his open laptop screen, where his untouched calculus homework stares back at him––his mind preoccupied with the looming threat of Jake's bet. Not that it was threatening in any way, per say, but Jay just hates losing. And from the looks of things, it's safe to say that Jay won't be celebrating any victories anytime soon.

Jay thinks he should just change his identity and just transfer to some boarding school in Switzerland. Yes, that's a much better solution than admitting defeat to Jake.

Jay sighs as he lies his head on the table, figuring he might as well just write the check for Jake's textbooks now. He wonders how he got here in the first place. Not how he got into the bet, and definitely not how he's sitting in the middle of the library, having yet to start his calculus homework due at 11:59PM tonight (he should really start that).

But no, he wonders how he gained the reputation as the campus' playboy. To be fair, his friends (mainly Jake), are constantly reminding him of his notorious habits. But how did they come a habit in the first place?

The idea of being in a relationship is nice, sure, but the commitment that comes with it? The idea of being dependent on someone? It's scary, vulnerable, and one that Jay can't picture for himself.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be paired. Maybe some people, like Jay, like being independent and are meant to stay that way.

But Jay also likes affection. He likes the fleeting, warm feeling he gets every time he finds himself under someone's sheets. He likes the short-lived comfort he receives from someone else's touch, even though he knows it's going to cease to exist the second he steps out of those bedroom's doors. He just likes affection, simple as that.

That and he's a 19 year old teenage boy with needs, what did you expect?

And so what if he likes the idea of affection minus commitment? Is that so bad? Apparently it is, to people like his friends and the entirety of his school's campus, at least.

At this rate, he might as well pay someone to date him.

Wait. Jay lifts his head off the table's surface in realization.

He might as well pay someone to date him.

There's no harm in that, is there?

He wouldn't have to endure through an endless amount of dates to find someone he clicks with, then continue going on dates with said clicked person, all while trying to develop an actual, serious relationship.

He'll win the bet, get his physics homework done for an entire semester, and some lucky girl out there will be making profit for the small price of hanging out with Jay Park for three months.

And lucky for him, Jay knows the perfect candidate for this scheme.

Simple as that.

Just as long as said perfect candidate says yes.

And as long as Jake and Sunghoon don't find out. Or else Jay might really have to move to Switzerland after all.

You love your friends, you do.

Hana and Heeseung have been there for you when others haven't––they were by your side when you knew no one entering high school, and they were still by your side when you were all graduating said high school. Needless to say, you're eternally grateful for friends like them.

But right now, in this moment––with you seated in the middle of the campus' library, trying to write your essay, as your two friends blabber on and on about the most recent gossip across from you––your two friends could be your villain origin story.

But again, you love your friends, you do. So you don't have the heart to tell them to leave. You've managed to naturally tune out most of the conversation, anyways, for this––your friends coming to hang out while you're trying to study––is no rare occurrence by any means.

"Oh yeah, Jay Park texted me last night."

You hate how your brain's filter suddenly turns off at Hana's words.

You hate how your ears catch the sudden mention of Jay Park's name.

You hate how the thought of Jay Park gets to even occupy a single brain cell of yours.

You hate how you even know who Jay Park is. Well, knew.

Past tense. Because up until eighth grade––when Jay decided to just suddenly pretend you didn't exist––he was attached to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

And if you had asked past Y/N, ideally, Jay would've never left your side. Ideally, he would've never left you to fend for yourself when entering high school. Ideally, he would've stayed your best friend through out all four years of high school and ideally, you would've eventually told him how you really felt about him after growing up with him all your life. And maybe it would've lead to a completely different story. But for the sake of this fic, we don't live in an ideal world.

So yes, if it wasn't for his attendance at the very same university as you, you would've forgotten about the boy who brought you the painful memories of your childhood.

And since the universe clearly doesn't work in your favor, avoiding Jay Park's existence like he's the plague would have to suffice. And it works.

For the most part.

Until some people, bring him up uninvited into your conversation. Like now, for example.

"When was the last time you guys talked anyways?" Heeseung mindlessly asks as he reaches across the table to grab one of the many snacks you usually bring to your study sessions.

"Uh..like a few weeks ago. Give or take. Whenever you threw your house party. Can't say there was much talking involved however," she teasingly says with a giggle and wiggle of her brows.

Heeseung's rolling his eyes as you scoff and chuck a nearby crumpled piece of paper that was once one of your many essay drafts at her.

She bats it away right as it's about to hit her face as she laughs. "Doesn't matter anyways. He ghosted me the next morning, as he does with everyone else. Telling you this now," she extends a finger right at you, "stay away from Jay Park. That kid's just bad news."

You nod in response, mentally telling her she has nothing to worry about.

Been there, done that.

College. Ah yes, the very concept of spending four years of your life imprisoned on a campus where you'll be tearing your hair out from stress and spending all your life's savings just for a laminated sheet of paper with a golden stamp at the end of it all. We live in a society.

Because of said college, and all the weight that comes along with it, you had adapted a strict daily schedule in order to not completely lose your mind. It's a simple schedule really, one of a typical college student who's just trying to get by everyday with as little mental breakdowns as possible.

Wake up, get ready, go to class, go to the library to do your homework, walk all the way across campus to get back to your dorm, shower, then sleep. Oh and eat, of course. And maybe if time permits, be an actual social being and socialize.

It's gotten you this far into the college life without dropping out so, you conclude, you must be doing something right.

Sometimes, if you're feeling nice to yourself, you'll tweak the schedule a bit to fit in some exceptions. Maybe squeeze in a little trip to the bubble tea shop that's on the other side of campus, or maybe get dinner at that one dining hall that you don't usually go to because of the unncessarily long lines (but because they serve ice cream, you go anyways). It doesn't matter what the exception is, you still plan it out to fit into your schedule somehow. Everything is planned out.

Sometimes, however, the universe disagrees with your schedule, to your demise. Such as today, for example.

Because what you didn't expect for today was for a particular blonde-haired boy who you haven't spoken to in almost six years (but who's counting?) to approach your table in the library––a table you were sure no one could find you at, as it was quietly tucked away in the back corner, right next to the Astrophysics shelves. Because who browses the Astrophysics aisle for fun? Actually, maybe Jake Sim would. Anyways.

You definitely didn't anticipate a visit from the boy you've been actively avoiding, so you definitely didn't expect the first words coming out of his mouth when he sees you for the first time in six years to be:

"Fake date me."

You blink up at him.

Yeah, definitely not expected.

But you only let it phase you for a split second, until you feel a slight annoyance beginning to bubble up deep inside of you.

"Wow, hello to you too Jay! It's been what––half a decade? Yeah I've been pretty good, thanks for asking!" The sarcasm is practically dripping off your tongue.

You don't know what runs through Jay's mind, but apparently it isn't common sense––or the ability to read the room. Because next thing you know, he's sliding the chair across from you out from underneath the table and making himself at home.

And he's smiling right at you.

Curse him and his smile.

But no, you're not giving into it.

Not yet, at least.

"What do you want?" You deadpan at him when he makes no sign of making the next move.

"A girlfriend," he deadpans right back at you, as if he was casually telling you what he wanted for dinner. As if you two were close-knit friends that could approach one another without any proper greeting. As if you two had kept your friendship all these years. As if you two even had a role in each other's lives.

"Can't help you there," you scoff, deciding to not even question his lack of manners on top of his uninvited presence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why?"

"Well gee, seeing that the first few words you decided to say to my face for the first time in forever were a demand, a demand to date you no less, then....no," your monotone voice says as you keep your eyes focused on your laptop screen, not daring to look at the boy across from you.

In the Introduction to Sociology course you took your freshmen year, you had learned of one important term: interactional vandalism. Textbook definition being: "ignoring signals of disinterest in a conversation, leading it to an offense."

Your definition being: "are you oblivious or just plan dumb, read the room!"

This was interactional vandalism, alright. Whether Jay's truly oblivious or just trying to annoy you until your head explodes (it's really the former, but you're convinced it's the latter), he takes your signals of disinterest and tosses it right out of his head to continue the conversation.

"I'm stuck in this stupid bet with Jake--do you remember him? He bet me that I couldn't date someone for more than three months and I figured having someone fake date me would be easier than actually dating someone, right? That's where you come into the equation," he proposes as he leans back in his chair, as if he had just finished a sales pitch to a prospective customer looking to buy a car.

You couldn't believe this. You're 98% sure this has got to be a prank. You're mentally preparing for a camera crew to jump out from in-between the library's aisles any moment now and scream into your ears that you've just been punk'd!

The remaining 2% of you, however, wouldn't put it past the two boys to get themselves in such a situation. The last memory you had of Jay and his friends were pretty much their childish selves back in middle school. And by looking at the current scene unfolding in front of you...it's needless to say they haven't changed much.

"Again, can't help you there. Ask one of the many girlfriends I thought you had." Ouch.

"But Y/N, you've known me all your life--"

"Up until you dropped me a few years ago but sure, let's call it that."

"--and convincing other people is gonna make me look--"

"--desperate? Yeah."

"C'mon, Y/N. What do you have to lose anyways?"

"Uh..my dignity? Pride? Self-respect? Sorry Jay, not happening," you turn your attention back to your unwritten essay in front of you, mentally checking out of this conversation. This would be a good time for that camera crew to jump out now.

"Look, no one else is gonna do it, Y/N." Jay has always been stubborn, you suppose. But so are you.

"Yeah, because you've managed to push every being of the opposite gender away from you. You gave yourself this reputation in the first place," you give it to him straight. It's not like you had a relationship with him to uphold anyways––Jay himself broke that friendship years ago.

Jay hates that you're right.

You're always right. He remembers how he used to always go to you for advice and clarity on the world's biggest problems. Granted, the world's biggest problems to him at the time equated to what he should dress up as for the fifth grade Halloween party, but still. A tough decision, for the mind of a ten-year-old.

You abruptly stop typing and begin putting your laptop and textbooks away as you huff in frustration. There's no point in trying to get your work done now. The longer you stay arguing with Jay, the bigger your headache gets. The longer he continues to occupy any part of your brain, the bigger your headache gets.

Getting up from your seat, packed and ready to slam your head into your pillow, you turn to the blonde one last time.

"Look Jay. We went on our separate ways years ago. If you weren't so notoriously known around campus and my friends would stop talking about you, I would've long forgotten you. I'm sorry you're in this situation, really. If I were you, I'd just tell Jake I can't do it. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do. Just don't get some innocent girl involved in whatever stunt of yours this is."

Jay stares at you, mouth agape, as you find your way out of the library and through the main doors. By the time he comes back to his senses, he realizes how he looks plain stupid––standing in the middle of the library, the look on his face screaming befuddlement, to say the least. Jay quickly makes his way out of the building, in hopes of convincing you one last time.

Jay catches sight of your figure already half-way down the walkway that connects the library to the main quad of your school's campus. Geez, you walk fast.

Not fast enough to outrun Jay's legs, however. If Jay running after you through the middle of campus in order to convince you to fake date him doesn't show how desperate he is to win this bet, I don't know what will.

"Wait, Y/N!"

You groan to yourself before turning to face the boy who can't seem to take a hint and leave you alone. You stare at his out-of-breath state as he heaves up and down from the slight jog he had to endure to get to where you are. If you're humored by him chasing after you, you do a good job of hiding it.

He meets your unimpressed state before stating his final proposition: "I'll pay you. Five hundred dollars."

You nearly stop breathing.

Now this catches your attention––after all, you're but a broke college student who's just trying to survive. And preferably not by feeding yourself instant ramen cups every night.

And so, naturally, you begin rethinking about the opportunity presented in front of you. You narrow your eyes at the boy as you weigh your options.

The first problem being, it's Jay Park––the bane of your very existence. You spent the last few years of your life pretending he didn't exist...for good reason. Not only did he do you dirty when you were merely a couple of 13-year-olds, but you just didn't want to be involved with someone like him. Someone known for his nature, someone who left your own current best friend ghosted. And not that Hana herself would care, for she has called herself the "female Jay Park", but you're sure this would be breaking some rule in the girl code handbook. Plus, if you agree to this, you'd be betraying 13-year-old Y/N, the one who decided to never speak to nor think of Jay Park again––which by now you've failed, but you get the gist.

Second problem being, three months is a long time. Three months is practically the rest of this semester, and did you really want to spend the rest of the semester tied down to the label of being Jay Park's girlfriend? There would have to be some negative connotations that came along with that title, right? No offense to Jay, but being his first girlfriend since, what, high school could make you come off as..naive, for lack of a better term. As if the only person you could settle for was Jay Park. As if you barely had any standards for yourself. Again, no offense to Jay.

Needless to say, if your school's debate club had to argue on why you shouldn't be doing this, you're sure the negating side could win with these two reasons alone.

But before you're rejecting the boy currently standing in front of you one last time, you find yourself mentally listing rebuttals.

First of all, you'd be getting paid. And again, you're merely but a college student living the stereotypical broke college student life––burdened by the costs of tuition, textbooks, and midnight McDonalds runs for when you're out of aforementioned instant ramen cups. Five hundred dollars could provide you with more than enough chicken McNuggets to last you the semester, and maybe some more to treat yourself to an online shopping spree.

Second of all, it's not like you were going to do anything better with your next three months anyways. It's safe to say you were too busy being a diligent student to actually look for anyone to date, per say. And if anything, having a fake boyfriend might actually be helpful in your case. Your mom would be off your ass about how you're still single, for one. And two, your friends (though it's really just Heeseung) would stop trying to hook you up on blind dates with guys that you would choose Jay Park over any day (and that really says something).

Third of all, it's Jay Park. As much as you despise the kid, you still know him. He's not a complete stranger to you, no matter how much you try to deny it. It could be worse, it could be a complete rando asking you to date him. At least you two have some sort of history, which would take care of the typical small talk and getting to know each other bit of this equation. And truth be told, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a tad bit satisfied by the fact that Jay chose you, of all people, to pull off this stunt with him. You don't know if it's the nostalgia of your childhood memories rushing back to you, but it reminds you of the endless schemes you two used to plan behind your parents' backs all the time. Granted, your childhood schemes––such as the both of you faking sickness so you could skip school together––don't even fall close to being in a fake relationship with one another, but still. It's the thought that counts.

All of those reasons plus, Jay isn't the worst to look at. He may have a spoiled reputation, but at least he has his looks going for him, you'll give him that (you're still secretly wondering when and how did he get his glow up, but don't tell him that).

And so by the guidelines of a college student's logic that states the pros outweigh the cons, you come to the overarching conclusion that maybe, this won't be so awful after all.

"Five hundred?" You ask, just for clarification. Jay's immediately nodding at your words. You continue to ponder on your thoughts as he stares at you hopefully.

The silent atmosphere of your campus heightens the tension so much, you swear you're in one of those overdramatic pausing scenes that occur too many times in k-dramas.

You sigh, then nod.

"Okay," you're internally praying that you won't regret this decision. "I'm in."

The next time you see Jay is at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building that's home to your awfully long Capitalism in the Western World class.

You're going down the steps of the building, mentally deciding where and what you're going to treat yourself to for lunch––as the three hour lecture you had just attended drained all the life and energy out of you––when you hear the slight call of your name.

Turning to the source, you're met with a waving Jay, leaning against the passenger's side of his car, parked in front of the lecture hall building you were currently leaving.

Great.

You walk over to where he's casually waiting––he's unaware of all the stares he's attracted from fellow students leaving the same lecture as you. Can you blame them? It's not everyday you see a sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition pull up in front of your Friday afternoon lecture. It's not everyday you see Jay Park waiting for anyone outside of his said sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition.

"Hi," you simply let out as you plant yourself in front of him, not sure whether or not to question him why are you here? Surely, he wasn't waiting for you?

"Hi," he smiles down at you. There's a beat of silence. "I was waiting for you."

Bingo.

"Oh. What are you, my chauffeur?" You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Maybe. I am your boyfriend, after all," he says into the air, loud and clear, as if he wanted people to hear. Well that is the point, you suppose.

But still, all you want to do is smack the smirk right off his face.

Before you have time to put your next question into words, he answers it for you.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he declares as if you have nothing else planned for the day. Well, to be fair, you didn't have anything else planned for the day. Except for your usual library run. But you figure the library could wait.

"Oh, like on a date?" You raise your eyebrows teasingly at him as you get into the car, Jay holding the door wide open for you. "Is Jay Park treating me to lunch as a date?"

Jay fights the scowl (or is that a smile?) growing on his face as he bends down to meet your eye level from inside the car. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. We've got fake lives to live."

"Call me princess one more time and you won't have a real life to live," you flash him a sarcastic smile and slam the door in his face.

Jay meets his own shocked reflection on the passenger's side window.

Cute.

"When you said you were taking me out to lunch, I expected like...I don't know...the diner on campus. Not whatever this is," you mutter to Jay as the two of you are brought to your table by a waitress at an upscale sushi restaurant, one that is undoubtedly out of your usual budget, but for sure an upgrade from your dining hall's pizza you were planning to have. You should've figured as much, the drive here was a little more than out of the way from campus, and who are you kidding, it's Jay Park you're eating with.

You stare down at your current outfit, which consisted of a hoodie you've owned since your junior year of high school and leggings that you threw on without second thought this morning––because you didn't exactly wake up and decide I'm going to go to a fancy sushi bar for lunch today!

"Why are we here anyways?" You ask him when you're both settled in your seats and the waitress walks away after listing the chef's specials for the day.

"Oh, they have killer dragon rolls here, you have to try it," Jay tells you nonchalantly as his eyes rake the menu in front of him, blocking your view of him.

How dense can one be? Your hand snatches his menu as you stare into his unamused eyes.

"No, Jay. I mean, why are we here? It's not like anyone's around to see us put on a show anyways."

"Oh. I figured," Jay's quick to grab the menu back from out of your hands as he continues, "that we should sit down and establish how exactly we're going to deliver this performance. After all, you're stuck with me for the next three months."

Again, smacking the smirk currently resting on his face would satisfy you beyond relief. Just once.

"If I drop out halfway through, do I still get $250?" You tease, leaning back.

"Ha ha. Funny. No," he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. "It's all or nothing."

You dramatically huff to make a show just for his annoyance.

"Worth a try. But sure, let's solidify this. What's the game plan?" You sit up in your seat, leaning over the table as if the two of you were hosting a secret meeting.

"It's simple really," Jay mirrors your actions, face leaning in close to where yours is hovering over the table. "Just pretend to be deeply in love with me for three months, and try not to actually be charmed by my cunning looks."

If someone gave you five dollars for every time you've already rolled your eyes at him today, you wouldn't even need to be in this deal for the five hundred dollars.

"Wow, smooth. Can I just remind you you're the one paying a girl to be in a fake relationship with you because you're just not competent enough to find an actual girlfriend?" You lean back, arms crossing over your figure.

Jay, unfazed, laughs, tongue briefly hitting the inside of his cheek. "Touché."

Your eyes go back to the menu in front of you as a silence falls over the table. Because you're not a loaded trust fund baby who comes to fancy five-star sushi restaurants for lunch on a daily, you don't recognize half of the entree names on the menu. You spot the dragon roll Jay suggested, but seeing that a basic California roll is less expensive, your natural broke-college-student-instincts figure the California roll shall do.

"Okay, in all seriousness," Jay begins as he puts his menu down. "It's simple really. We'll just go on weekly dates and post cute pictures of each other once in a while and a little after three months, I'll just say it didn't work out. I'll give you the five hundo and boom, we move on with our lives."

It's clear Jay's put some thought into this. Safe to say he's put more effort planning this out than the amount of work he's been putting into his classes. Someone's got their priorities straight.

You're impressed to say the least––you figured Jay would just be the kind to go with the flow and wait for the situation to unfold on its own and maybe blow up into flames. But seeing as he was just as serious about winning this bet as you were with making five hundred dollars, your doubts about this entire situation were slowly withering away.

Don't get it wrong, though, you still despise him. To an extent, at least.

"And don't worry about the dates. I'll pay on your behalf, as the loving, doting boyfriend I am," Jay finishes with a wide, cheesy smile you can't help but return a growing smile back at.

"Well then, as the loving, doting girlfriend I am, I shall gift you coffee, breakfast, all that fun couple stuff, whenever you please. Or maybe unannounced, if I'm feeling nice," you figure you should pitch in as much if he's paying for all your dates. And deep down, you find the idea kinda cute. But don't tell anyone that.

"Wow, look at us. We should become Dispatch's couple of the year already!" Jay exclaims, earning himself a small giggle from you, which pleases him to say the least. He thinks that maybe when this is all over, he'll hopefully make a good friend (well, for the second time) out of it.

And you're thinking that maybe the next three months won't be as bad as you initially had thought.

As the two of you delve deep into a debate about who would be the better significant other to each other, the waitress comes over to take your orders.

And because you're laughing and Jay's brightly smiling at you from across the table, you order the dragon roll.

The second time Jay takes you out––this time he gives you a heads up to get ready––it's at a, once again, high-class steakhouse.

The third time, you insist on the on-campus diner that's popular amongst the student population. Partially because you feel bad for the amount of money he's spent on you (even though he couldn't care less), but mostly because if you have to put on another fancy dress to just eat an overpriced meal that doesn't even fully satisfy your hunger, you might lose your mind.

And by this third time, Jake is aware of this newly blossomed relationship.

"Three dates! I didn't know you had it in you, going on three dates with the same girl!" Jake excitedly exclaims as he jumps into the empty spot on Jay's dorm bed and shoves his phone's screen into Jay's face.

The smaller screen displays Jay's most recent Instagram post: an image of you sitting behind your too-small-to-be-this-expensive-steak and smiling right into Jay's camera––a memory that brings a smile to his face:

~ ~ ~

"C'mon! We said Instagram posts would be a part of the deal! How else can we convince people we're dating?" A pout rests on Jay's face as he stares at you from across the table in the middle of the extravagantly decorated restaurant he picked out for your second date. You remember your eyes bulging out of their own sockets when you saw the "$$$$$" rating Yelp gave the place when you searched it up earlier.

"Okay, okay! One picture," you give in, already slightly annoyed that you were here instead of the comfort of your own bed, where you could be rewatching your favorite Netflix show for the third time. But because you made a deal and because you're desperate for money, you had to follow through––so here you were.

You flash an unconvincing smile to Jay's camera, which doesn't satisfy him, to say the least. "At least pretend you're somewhat enjoying this date," he frowns at you.

You sigh, until a thought crosses your mind and a smile grows on your face. "Only if you get me boba afterwards."

He narrows his eyes at you, but then meets your smile. "Sure, whatever you want. But only because I've been craving some mango milk tea lately."

"You're a fruit milk tea kind of guy? Sorry, but I might have to fake break-up with you," you tease as you take a sip of your overpriced drink to go with your overpriced meal.

Jay scoffs, feigning hurt by placing his hand over his heart. "Ouch. But before you break up with me, let me get this Instagram post in."

"Wow. Your priorities are so straight," you roll your eyes at him, eliciting a cheeky smile from him as he watches you through his held up phone screen.

"3,2,1."

"Hey, I wasn't ready! That was like mid-laugh!" You reach over the table to grab the phone, but not quick enough for him to put his phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Nope, nuh uh," he laughs as you quickly sit back down into your seat, not wanting to cause a scene in an establishment as proper as this one.

"It's fine. It's a good picture, you look cute," he casually lets out, unaware of the blush rising to the surface of your cheeks, thanks to the fact that you were suddenly interested in playing with the left-over food on your plate.

"Jay! Delete it, I'll let you take another one," you whine from your seat, imagining just how bad a candid picture of you could be.

"Ugh, fine. Ever so picky." He playfully rolls his eyes at you as he takes his phone out and opens the camera app as you prepare yourself.

"Okay, how's this?" Jay turns the phone screen to you after he takes a few snaps on his phone.

"I approve," you grin at him as he goes through the pictures himself, unaware of the smile growing on his face.

"Okay now delete the first one," you point your finger at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, okay! Bossy," he laughs as he raises in hands in surrender.

When Jay gets home that night, he recovers the image from his Recently Deleted folder, telling himself it's for the sake of the memory.

Obviously.

~ ~ ~

"It's not that big of a deal," Jay mutters from his spot as his eyes go from the Instagram post to his Exile and Belonging in Modern Literature reading that's due tomorrow, bright yellow highlighter in hand. Typically, you'd find the reading buried deep at the bottom of his school backpack. But because Jay ran into you this morning and because he complained to you about the amount of work he's fallen behind on and because you had threatened him to do his work or else you're not going on another date––a fake date that is––with him, he figured he should at least get one reading done and annotated, despite his strong dislike for highlighters (they hurt his eyes, okay?)

What he doesn't know, however, is how your threat was completely full of bluff––but don't tell him that.

"It is so a big deal, for you at least!" Jake hops off the bed and lands on the wooden floors of Jay's dorm room so hard, Jay winces and sends a mental apology to the poor person who lives below him.

Jake suddenly gasps. "I have to meet her, Jay! As your best friend, it's practically mandatory that I meet her."

Jay opens his mouth to protest, but not before Jake interrupts him once again. "Oh! We can bring Sunghoon too, it'll be so fun! The best friends meet the girlfriend."

Jay can't think of anything worst. Jay imagines that bringing you to meet his best friends would just intimidate you out of dating him––fake dating him, that is. Obviously.

He stares at his friend in agony then back at the reading in front of him––the one Jake said he'd come over to help annotate, but the intention completely left Jake's head the second he heard about Jay's recent dating life.

"You don't have to meet her," Jay says pointedly. "Plus, you already know her."

Jake frowns at his friend's excuse. "Yeah, but that was in middle school! This is different."

Jay's hands shuffle through the reading's pages in front of him as he realizes there's no way the two of them are going to finish the assignment at this point. He supposes he'll have to save death by blindness from highlighters for another day and hope you still agree to go out with him.

Jake suddenly gasps in realization.

"Oh my gosh! Childhood best friends turned college sweethearts," Jake says so dreamily, he might as well plaster heart eyes on. Hopeless romantic, this one.

Before Jay can argue, the piercing sound of three loud knocks echo through the small room, followed with a:

"Jay, are you in? It's me!"

Jay stills at the sound of your sweet voice. He whips his head to Jake, who is also frozen in place.

But the widened-eye boy is quick to come to his senses––unfortunately quicker than Jay himself––because the next thing Jay knows, Jake's eyes are lighting up and he's running to the door, ignoring Jay's screaming whispers through this seething teeth that were somewhere along the lines of Jake––stop, I swear to god if you open that door I'm gonna fucking--

"Y/N!" Jake swings the door wide open, revealing an overly excited him and a frozen Jay half-way to the door, as if he was about to grab the very boy welcoming you in. It's as if we're living in a Sims game and the player clicked pause on this very moment.

Jake's eyes are wildly going back and forth between you and your supposed boyfriend, as if he was waiting for Jay to run over and smother you in hugs and kisses...or something couple-y like that. Jay wouldn't know.

"Uh––hi," you're awkwardly standing inside the room now, a relatively large paper brown bag resting in your palms as you look around for a surface to place it on. Jay makes his way to you without a second thought, quickly taking the bag out of your hold.

"You seemed stressed out earlier, so I figured I could bring you some food as a little pick me up. I didn't know what you liked, so I kinda just got a little of everything from the dining hall. Nothing fancy," you're rambling, but smiling so excitedly at him, Jay doesn't know what to say.

Instead, his mouth slightly drops open as he stares at you in awe, mostly because he's not used to being on the receiving end of such spontaneously generous actions––all while Jake's still excitedly looking back and forth between the two of you, as if he was expecting a marriage proposal to come next.

"Oh wow. Thank you. Really," Jay, still touched by your simple act of kindness, softly says as he places the bag on the limited amount of empty space on his desk surface––the rest of it is covered with his untouched textbooks and unfinished assignments. He wonders if you did this out of playing your role or just because you wanted to. He internally hopes it's the latter. "Seriously, you didn't have to do."

"Nah, don't worry. I wanted to," you shrug with such a genuine smile that Jay realizes he actually missed your smile.

Despite having seen you during your brief run-in this morning when you were fetching your morning coffee, Jay realizes he missed you. The two of you haven't been seeing each other recently because of your busy schedule and if Jay didn't realize it before, he's now sure he missed your company and presence around.

Weird.

"Well, you two have fun! Sunghoon needs me for something," Jake suddenly chirps from his place near the front door, halfway through with putting his shoes on already, breaking the comforting silence that fell between the two of you.

Jay frowns. "But you said you were free all da––"

"SUNGHOON IS CALLING BYE!" And before Jay can even register what's happening, Jake's out the door without another word.

"Er..sorry about him, he's...weird," Jay scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his spot on his bed, mentally setting a reminder to yell at Jake later for leaving the two of you alone. Jay doesn't know exactly why, but he's nervous at the fact that you're here in his room. It's not like you two are complete strangers––or whatever you guys were before––anymore. "Good job on your part, though. How'd you know Jake was here?"

"Oh uh, I didn't"," you let out an awkward laugh. "I just felt like doing it."

Heat rushes to Jay's cheeks and he's not sure 1) what this newfound feeling is and 2) how to respond, yet again.

Having expecting you to leave after dropping the food off, Jay's taken by surprise when you take your shoes off and come over to his bed to look at the pile of work he's spread out.

"Is this everything you have to do?" You question the stressed-out boy as you flip through the various assignments, readings, and essays he put off in the past week.

"More or less," he groans. This is no rare occurrence by any means––Jay being behind in his work––but this time, Jay realizes he may actually be in deep shit, considering he has no idea where to begin.

Right as Jay's expecting a scolding from you, he looks up to meet a look of sympathy on your face. "Well, I mean, I'm pretty much done with my day. I can try to help, I recognize some of these readings from last semester."

Jay thinks to himself that the universe has sent him an angel through the form of you.

"Really? Wow, you were't kidding when you said you'd be a good girlfriend," he sends you a surprised look.

"I'm just being nice, Jay. A concept I'm sure you're not familiar with," you remark back at him, causing his forming smile to grow into a laugh.

"I can too be nice! Need I remind you of who's paying you $500, covering all of our dates AND giving you rides to class everyday?" He remarks pointedly at you, a teasing look resting in his eyes as you're reminded of the first of many times he's come to pick you up before class:

~ ~ ~

You're late.

This never happens.

But then again, your life's been a series of unexpected occurrences lately. Such as the fact that you're currently known as Jay Park's girlfriend, for one.

You're scrambling out of bed once you take one look at your phone and realize shit, you're already late for class. Throwing on whatever articles of clothing your eyes land on first, you're already mentally groaning at the fact that you'll have to skip breakfast and run across your campus to get to said class.

Curse your professor for hosting her lecture at the furthest possible building away from your dorm. Curse the architect who decided to make your campus so large.

You're running down the steps outside of your dorm building's doors when you're abruptly stopped by a familiar sounding cough. You look up from trying to gather all your belongings together at once to meet the gaze of the source of the sound––Jay.

"Wow, you're a mess," he smirks as he gets up from the spot on his car he was leaning against to make his way over to you.

"Gee, thanks! Good morning to you too," you flash him a sarcastic smile before your default frown quickly makes it way back onto your face.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here?" He grins as he grabs hold of your backpack to sling it across his own back as the two of you walk towards his car.

"Why are you here, Jay?" you sigh, your sarcastic tone hard to miss.

"To give you a ride to class, of course!" He's beaming at you, as if he's a pre-pubescent teen who just won their first girlfriend a prize from the arcade's claw machine.

Oh. That explains the car, you figure. Deep down inside, you're relieved that you'll no longer be bursting through the lecture hall's doors as a sweaty mess––a result of having to run across campus to get to class.

Determined to not let your satisfaction completely show, you resort with a little smile directed towards Jay as he opens the passenger door for you.

The second your enter Jay's car, the strong scent of coffee hits you, and your attention is targeted at the two small cups of coffee sitting in the cupholders of the car.

"Breakfast?" Jay asks as he enters through the driver's side and reaches into the backseat to whip out a small pastry bag. A small, deliciously smelling, pastry bag.

Okay, well. You suppose you could drop the annoyed act now.

Your eyes widen with joy as you grab the bag from him and open it to reveal your favorite breakfast sandwich. He's been taking notes, you'll give him that point.

"Okay, you win. Thank you," you grace him with a soft smile before taking a bite into the glorious gift in your hands.

"Of course, I was just feeling nice," he grins at you as he starts his car. "But don't get used to it." His tone is serious, but his smile directed towards you says differently.

And the fact that he still showed up to drive you to class the next morning.

And the next.

~ ~ ~

"And need I remind you who has to date your dumb ass for the $500 in question?" Your eyes narrow at the boy who can't seem to get that damn smile off his face.

Jay sticks his tongue out at you, ending the conversation. Really Jay? What are you, five? Well, mentally––probably.

You're looking around his minuscule dorm room for a place to sit down, and Jay can't help but feel embarrassed now that you're here, in his messy single studio room that pretty much reflects how Jay treats every other responsibility of his oh so hard life: neglected.

"Uh...here, you can sit on my bed," Jay immediately offers as he moves to the side to make room for your presence––and it isn't much, considering the university only provided him a twin XL bed which is definitely not built for two grown college-aged kids.

If you told yourself a few weeks ago that you'd be shoulder to shoulder on a bed belonging to the guy you cringed at the very thought of, you wouldn't have believed yourself. You wouldn't have believed yourself if you said you were actually glad Jay let you stay instead of kicking you out after delivering the food. Huh.

Weird.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of when we were kids. I always carried us through those horrible multiplication tests in the fifth grade," you wink at him as you settle in the spot next to him, hands grabbing hold of the papers in his lap.

Jay let out a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "Hey! The twelve times table is hard, okay?"

You roll your eyes at him––a habit of yours he's noticed whenever the two of you are together, but more recently, he thinks it's been more out of fun than annoyance.

He wonders why.

When Jay had first brought up the idea of bringing you as his date to his father's company dinner, you had expected a fairly fancy five-star restaurant with a formal dress code––for you've become accustomed to Jay's lifestyle. Turns out, your expectations can continue to be exceeded. Because what you had expected to be a simple dinner with a few other business men and women turned out to be an entire party, hosted in a hotel whose interior resembled something close to a castle (Or what you assume a castle looks like, as you've never personally been into a castle yourself, but this hotel is close enough).

Your eyes sparkle at the extravagant columns and diamond chandeliers hanging high above you, and Jay smiles at the expression on your face; like a little girl being brought to the amusement park for the first time ever.

"Wow, this is...wow," you mutter as you drink in the scene in front of you: people dressed in formal attire likewise to yours and Jay's, mingling and drinking what you imagine to be beverages that cost more than your entire life's worth.

Jay laughs from behind you, "Yeah the company goes a little...extra when it comes to these company dinners."

You scoff as you look up at him. "Oh really, you don't say?" You look around and you're suddenly aware of the many people surrounding the two of you and the attention you've acquired ever since entering the building.

"Jay, people are staring." You shuffle closer to him, your voice lowering down to a whisper.

"Well, it's not everyday the son of the company's CEO brings his girlfriend with him, so...looks like we'll be the talk of the party tonight. Smiles on," he winks at you, and you just know he's loving the attention the two of you are receiving right now.

"Jay Park? Is that you?" You hear a warm voice call out from behind the two of you.

The two of you turn around to meet the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman dressed in an evening gown that matches the pattern of high-end brands you've been recognizing ever since arriving.

"Mrs. Lee! It's so nice seeing you again," Jay cheerily addresses the woman as the two of you bow in greeting.

You internally giggle at the thought of your Jay being so picture-perfect in the eyes of his father's co-workers.

"This is Y/N," he continues, his hand finding its way to your back, protectively resting it there as you go to introduce yourself. "My girlfriend."

You swear you feel goosebumps rise from where he's lightly touching you, and more so when he introduces you as his girlfriend.

You tell yourself it's just your nerves. Yes, that's it, you're just nervous. I mean, you're in a room filled with people who could easily pay off all your college loans with just a snap of their fingers, who wouldn't be nervous? Right? Right.

"Y/N! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Lee excitedly exclaims as you turn to Jay with a slightly confused look plastered on your face. He mirrors your expression as he shrugs, moving to stand behind you completely, bringing his hands to rest lowly at your hips.

His hands feel like feathers on the thin fabric of your evening gown, so light, so delicate, as if he's unsure if he's crossing a line. It leaves you wanting more, wanting to naturally lean against him and his warmth. You quick to shake the thought of your head as Mrs. Lee chirps up again.

"Jay's father is always talking about how you've been keeping Jay pleasantly busy nowadays! Good thing too, about time this poor boy settle down for someone as beautiful as you," the woman rambles on as you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks at the thought of Jay talking about you to his dad. If only they knew.

"We should probably go find our seats, I think the dinner is beginning soon," Jay says from behind you, saving the two of you from having to listen to Mrs. Lee's story of how she's known Jay ever since he was five years old and seeing him grow into this mature, loving, young man is so amazing. Oh look! I have baby pictures.

Yeah, he was more so saving himself from embarrassment.

The two of you bid your goodbyes before Jay gently uses the hand on your back to maneuver you through the crowd of socializing business moguls.

"She's not wrong, you know," you feel Jay dip his head so he's speaking near your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe, as the two of you make your way through the large foyer room.

"Hm?" You hum in question, turning your head up just enough to be able to make eye contact with him as he responds to your look of confusion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eye contact not breaking once. You freeze in your steps.

You stare back at him in silence. Oh.

Your mind is panicking as it flips through your mental book of responses, unsure of what to say back. But because your mind is cloudy from staring at a put-together Jay in a dark navy suit to match your dress (mixed with the nervous butterflies in your stomach––have they always been there?), the only sound that's able to leave your lips is the small stutter of a:

"Huh?"

Wow Y/N, you had one job. A simple "thank you" could've sufficed! And you went with "Huh"?

You felt like a fifth grader who just learned from a friend of a friend of a friend that their crush likes them back.

"U-um. Mrs. Lee. What she said about you. You look good, really," somehow your nervousness made its way over to Jay now––his eyes flickering from yours to anywhere, anything, else in the room––the awkward tension growing tenfold each second.

Goddamnit Y/N, this is just Jay you're talking to, get a grip.

You're knocked back into reality when he slightly nudges your back to continue making your way to the main ball room, where the dinner is being held.

"Is that a compliment from the Jay Park?" Your smirk can't be seen by Jay, since he's still trailing behind you, but he can definitely hear it through your tone.

"Don't make me take it back," he chuckles, his words felt against your neck, leaving behind a tingly sensation you're not sure why you're feeling. You're glad he's behind you, so he isn't able to see the blush creeping onto your face for the second time tonight.

Jay gives a small nod to the people behind the check-in desk stationed at the entrance as the two of you waltz right into a large ball room lined with countless circular dining tables. So much for a small business dinner.

As the two of you approach one of the tables placed at the front of the room, you notice a familiar figure seated next to the seats reserved for you and Jay.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaims as he gets up from his seat to greet the both of you. "I'm so glad you made it, Jay was so excited to bring you tonight. Deadass would not stop talking about it."

Jay lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a cough and a goose being strangled, his widened eyes warning his talkative friend to just shut up. He's silently cursing the company for always seating his and Jake's family at the same table for these events.

"Aw, is that so? He's lucky he's cute or else I wouldn't have agreed," you grin, winking at your assumed boyfriend sitting next to you.

"Hey, YOU were the one excited to come! I recall a certain someone's face lighting up when I suggested we go shopping for tonight," Jay immediately retorts.

"Only because you were buying," you giggle, causing Jake to laugh as well.

"Damn, Jay. Tough," Jake jokingly adds as you laugh alongside him. The scowl sitting on Jay's face expresses the opposite of what he's feeling right now: warmth filling him up from the sound of your laughter and the image of you getting along so well with his best friend.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, you two have fun making fun of me," Jay narrows his eyes at the two of you as he gets up from his seat. You bid him off with a smile before turning back to Jake.

"No but really though, this boy would not stop talking about you coming tonight. Then again, he doesn't really ever stop talking about you," Jake nonchalantly says, not knowing how much he was exposing his friend to you right now.

You raise an eyebrow up in response, "Oh really?"

"Seriously! I don't know what you did to him, Y/N, but this Jay I've been seeing recently is new. He complains a lot less about life nowadays, especially on the days he sees you," he leans back in his chair as his comment brings a smile to your face. Little does he know.

You stretch your neck up to find the boy in question and spot him right as he's returning to your shared table, two drinks in hand. You lock eyes with him from across the room and without a second thought, you're giving him a genuine smile that he's immediately returning.

Your heart beats faster at the view.

You wonder why.

It's 3:07AM when you hear the first ding.

You're not 100% sure as of why you're awake at this hour on a Tuesday night––perhaps a combination of your restless thoughts and feelings not letting you sleep plus the typical stress that comes hand-in-hand with the life of a college student.

It's 3:09AM when you hear the second ding, and you brush it off, assuming it was just Heeseung spamming you with memes again––something he does often when he also can't sleep (you found this out the hard way).

It's still 3:09AM when you hear the third ding, and at 3:10AM , you finally reach over and decide to acknowledge the being who's bothering you at this godforsaken hour.

Jay [3:07AM]: Y/N

Jay [3:09AM]: hi

Jay [3:09AM]: r u awake rn

Y/N [3:10AM]: unfortunately so

Y/N [3:11AM]: why are you up

Jay [3:11AM]: come outside

Y/N [3:13AM: jay it's 3am

Jay [3:13AM]: ye and? don't tell me ur a college student with a curfew

Jay [3:14AM]: plus im alrdy waiting for u outside so u have no choice

Jay [3:15AM]: :)

You groan at your bright phone screen currently illuminating your dark dorm room.

You ponder the consequences you may have to suffer tomorrow if you stay up any later than you already have. But considering the fact that you're probably just going to stay awake lying in bed for god knows how long anyways, why not?

(And you would like to point out that this decision has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't seen Jay in a few days and that maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of you may have missed his presence. Nothing.)

And since that logic is obviously valid (you really gotta work on justifying your life choices), you're suddenly grabbing a hoodie from your closet and hoping it'll be enough to keep you, who's merely in an old band t-shirt from high-school and pajama shorts, warm.

The breeze hits your skin the second you open the doors to your dorm's building, and you're met with the view of Jay's sleek, black BMW that probably costs more than your tuition. He waves at you from the driver's seat, motioning for you to get in.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure at this hour," you deadpan at him with a stone-cold voice as you enter through the passenger's side door, hoping your tone was enough to hide the fact that you're giddy at the fact he invited you out at 3AM in the morning. Like a high-school girl sneaking out of her house to meet up with her bad-boy boyfriend that her parents dislike.

The second you enter his car, you're instantly comforted by the warm air blasting through his vents and his playlist softly playing in the background. Jay's pajama pants and messy hair give you more than enough information to know that he probably just rolled out of his own bed as well. You don't know why, but your view: Jay in his oversized hoodie with his unkept hair in front of your dorm building at 3AM on a Tuesday night, gives you comfort in weird ways you can't explain even if you tried.

But it's obviously just your cloudy, 3AM mind not thinking straight. Obviously.

"When I can't sleep, I go on drives around campus. It helps clear my mind," he says, looking over at you to give you a quick smile before starting his car. "Plus, SnapMap said you were still awake, so...figured you'd wanna join."

"Oh so what, you're my stalker now? You're not driving to the woods to kill me now, are you?" You tease, an eyebrow brought up. Jay lets out a laugh from beside you as he begins to drive further into your campus.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he throws you a wink before reverting his gaze back to the road, mindlessly driving to wherever the road decides to take him.

A comfortable silence falls in between the two of you as Jay continues to drive endless routes around your campus. You look over to the boy driving next to you and take in his features––you don't know what changed, but you no longer feel the same anger or annoyance bubbling within you when you're around him. You're not sure when this changed, but you figure it's just the effect of desensitization. After all, you've been spending so much time with him, you're bound to get used to it. Right?

"Why were you up?" Jay finally asks after a few minutes of just the two of you silently basking in each other's presences.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Endless thoughts running through my mind, stress from school, nothing new," you sign, giving him a soft smile followed with a shrug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You answer him with silence as you search your head for the answer.

"I don't know. This is kinda weird, isn't it?" You don't know why you get a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, you find yourself rambling on. "If you had told me a month ago that I'd be here driving around with you when it's nearly 4AM, I would've laughed in your face."

Jay doesn't know whether to laugh or scoff. "Is the idea of hanging out with me that unappealing to you?"

You give him a serious look back. "I mean, up until a month ago when you needed me for whatever this game is, you literally pretended I didn't exist."

Oh. Awkward.

You freeze at your own words, mentally screaming at yourself for letting the words leave your mouth. Why, why, why.

"Y/N..." Jay says after clearing his throat after a few seconds of silence.

"No it's fine, it was a joke," you awkwardly cough and direct your attention to anything else around you right now. The view of your campus' buildings zooming by. The clicking of Jay's blinker when he switches lanes. The quiet roaring of his car's engine. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride is excruciatingly silent as he exits the main road and into an empty parking lot of some administration building made out of glass that has too many floors for you to count.

You don't know why you feel your heart beating in your throat as Jay puts the car into park––why you feel uneasy. You slightly turn towards him in your seat, hoping to pick up any sign of well...anything from him.

You don't know why you feel a twinge of guilt––it's not like what you said was necessarily wrong. If you were being honest, you were slightly bothered by how the two of you seemed to silently agree not to mention your past all this time. You were always one to seek answers, to seek closure. You couldn't help but bring it up––Jay was your best friend during those years. For him to just wake up one day and pretend you were nothing to him hurt you, and you couldn't help but still wonder what in the world you did to initiate his actions.

"I'm sor–" You're interrupted with his timid voice, as if he was almost afraid to speak.

"I'm not good with people." He's nibbling on his bottom lip, fingers nervously picking at a spot on the steering wheel.

You're opening and closing your mouth, unsure how to respond. You're 100% positive you look like a fish right now. Good for you.

"I don't know why. Jake calls it commitment issues but in order to have commitment, people have to stay in my life. And people just...don't. They're all bound to leave at some point. So what's the point of putting in effort into relationships if they're just going to leave you at the end?"

You're stunned by his sudden confession, not having been prepared for such a heavy topic to arise between the two of you. Up until tonight, your interactions had always been light-hearted and easy––you guys got along well. You didn't know this is how he felt all along.

But you knew where he was coming from.

You knew what Jay had gone through as a child––his mother having left him and his dad when he was young. You remember when your parents had told you the news at the young age of 13, and you remember the pain and sorrow you felt for your then friend. All you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but he had already cut you out from his life by then.

"Or maybe I'm the problem. My dad barely acknowledges my existence because he thinks giving me an allowance is all the parenting I need, my friends probably only stick around because they feel bad for me, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the bet, and, fuck, I'm literally known as the campus' fuckboy," Jay continues, falling deeper and deeper into the hole he dug himself.

He hates this, he hates opening up and feeling vulnerable, so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. He doesn't know why he feels comfortable voicing out his fears and worries when he's around you. But he does know it's a new feeling––one he doesn't know how to deal with.

"Jay," you lace your voice with as much comfort as you can provide. None of this is his fault, you want to tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything," he says with a hint of bitterness and you can't tell if it's directed towards you or the topic at hand.

You're completely turned in your seat now to face him––despite the fact that he refuses to meet your gaze, afraid that looking at you is gonna bring out the most vulnerable in him. "You can talk to me. Talking about it makes it a lot easier. I'll always be here for you, as a friend."

Jay doesn't know what it is or why, but something in him snaps at the sound of a certain word falling out of your lips. Friend. Friend.

Friends don't make his heart beat nervously whenever he's around them. Friends don't keep him up at 3AM in the morning, pondering about his feelings for them. Friends don't provide him with this new, warm comfort he's become accustomed to whenever he's around you.

Deep down, Jay knows you didn't mean to add fuel to the fire. But because he's strong-headed, stubborn, and hates how vulnerable he feels next to you, he unleashes his emotions without thinking about the destruction coming along.

"It's none of your business, Y/N. Forget I said anything. You're just a toy for this stupid game and when it's all over we can go back to our own lives and forget this ever happened."

His sudden words cut deep, but they hurt him more than you. The second the words tumble out of his mouth, he's hit with the feeling of instant regret washing over him, and the lump forming in his throat restricts him from finding the right words to take them back.

The silence that falls between the two of you this time is different. It's a cold silence. A loud silence.

Jay feels his walls coming back up around him––the ones you managed to get through––and all he wants to do is apologize but he's terrified. Terrified of seeing your reaction, terrified of losing you again. For the second time.

You tell yourself he doesn't mean it. You tell yourself that he's just enduring more pain that one should ever receive.

But you also tell yourself that this wouldn't be the first time Jay leaves you in the dust.

You tell yourself that you're foolish for ever believing a friendship, or more, could come out of this act at the end. That you're so naive for feeling those stupid, stupid butterflies you've started to notice in your stomach whenever you see, or even think of, him.

"Okay," you begin with a firm tone. You're hurt, but you refuse to show it. You won't let him hurt you for a second time. Not again.

"Just...find me when you need me. As your fake girlfriend or just...me. I'm still here for you," is the last thing you say before un-clicking your seatbelt and leaving his car, beginning your walk back to your dorm hall.

Jay is unsure about many things in life. He's unsure about what he wants to do in the future, he's unsure of where he's going to settle in life, heck, he's unsure about what to have for lunch tomorrow. But he's sure about one thing.

That he's wearing his heart on his sleeve right now, and it's all because of you.

That you've become this new lifeline and he has to choose between holding onto you or drowning.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his first gut instinct is to get ready to pick you up for class. But today's different. Jay doesn't know where the two of you stand now, especially after last night.

Jay doesn't know how to deal with this combination of unknown emotions he's been feeling lately. They didn't come out of no where, by any means, he realizes. They've been slowly growing over the past month of seeing you so often––like a plant he's been watering overtime, not expecting it to bloom into a flower so suddenly––but he figured it was nothing more than just enjoying the company of a friend.

Until he realizes that the term friend just doesn't suite you anymore––not to him, at least. And that scares him. It scares him that you've made him genuinely smile more in this past month than he ever has in his 19 years of living. It scares him that when he's around you he can't comprehend his own thoughts, his feelings. It scares him that you make him vulnerable, that you've changed him. That you've managed to make the walls that he's spent so long building and polishing to crumble with a simple tap of your finger.

In a perfect world, Jay would have already told you all this––he would be unafraid of how you would react, unafraid of your rejection, unafraid of losing this growing relationship with you. But alas, we don't live in a perfect world. And so when Jay drives to class that day, he drives right past your dorm building.

"Where's Y/N?" is the first thing Jake questions when he enters Jay's car that morning, confused by your absence, having been used to you being in the front seat every morning when Jay goes to give Jake rides to class as well.

"I don't know," Jay mutters, unemotional eyes focused on the road in front of him, not interested in continuing a conversation that involves thinking about you.

Jake hesitates as curiosity gets the best of him. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Jay's hands tighten around the steering wheel of his car. "Or something. Let's just leave it at that."

There are a few beats of silence before Jake speaks up again.

"Well, I guess this works out because I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jay continues to stare straight ahead of him, focusing on just trying to get by without mentally beating himself up at the simple thought of you.

The simple thought of you and your smile. Your witty remarks. Your stupid eye rolls. Your laughter. Your kindness. So much for not thinking about you.

"I'm calling it off," Jake's words catch Jay off guard.

"Huh? Calling what off?"

"The bet. I'm calling it off. I don't care about the textbook fees I'll have to pay next semester. Look, fight or not, you and Y/N are good for each other, everyone can see it. And I really don't want this to end up being one of those messed up teen TV shows where the girlfriend finds out the entire relationship was based off of a stupid game and then they break up and the boyfriend falls into eternal sadness and regret. And I don't wanna see you sad, dude. So yeah! Congrats," although he's admitting defeat, Jake's beaming widely, just content with the fact that his best friend has finally found happiness through the form of you. "You win."

But Jay feels like the opposite of a winner. Because even though his only intention coming into this was simply winning the bet, his life isn't as simple as it was a month ago. Because he discovered something much more valuable than some stupid textbook fees or five hundred dollars or getting his physics homework done for an entire semester.

Something he's scared he's already lost.

You.

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The next time you see Jay is at the same time and place as when he first ever appeared to pick you up––at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building home to your awfully long Capitalism in World History class. This time, however it's different.

Because this time, it's one month later, and Jay Park is no longer a forgotten side character in the story of your life. This time, you're frustrated because it's been three days since you've last heard from Jay. And because it's been three days since you've last heard from him, you can't focus on anything else, and because you can't focus on anything else, you're falling behind on every other aspect in your life. Jay's somehow managed to become the center of your life without even having to be present.

Well, up until now. Up until you go down the steps of your lecture hall's entrance and look up to be met with a figure leaning on a car you're far too familiar with. You freeze in your steps as you make eye contact with the boy you've been thinking about non-stop for the past month three days.

Your mind tells you to walk away, to just follow your flight instinct instead of fight, to just go back to your normal life. But here's the thing. Ever since Jay's made his way back to your life, it's been far from normal.

And if you're being honest, you had no interest in going back to your normal life. Normal's overrated anyways. You find your legs bringing yourself over to him, your heart leading the way.

"Hi," you simply say, planting yourself right in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" You already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

"Waiting for you," Jay doesn't hesitate in answering you. This time will be different, he tells himself.

"I can walk myself home, thanks," you state, but your actions tell differently, as you make no sign of moving from your spot in front of him.

Jay's mind contemplates telling you everything. About how he regrets that friendship-breaking decision he made that one fateful day in the eighth grade, about his true feelings, about how he first suspected these feelings when he was 11 years old and saw you in your fancy get-up for the sixth grade dance but put it off as a little crush, and about how the same feelings grew into something so, so much more in the present. But seeing that putting all these thoughts into words would involve more than one functioning brain cell (which is all he's convinced he has in the moment, for the view of you staring up at him, looking like that, has his brain short-circuiting), he settles with:

"He called it off. It's over. The bet."

"Oh."

Silence.

Okay, Jay. This is your chance. Say it.

"Is that it?" You lift an eyebrow, awaiting for more explanation. When it doesn't come, you slightly nod and start backing away. "I'll see you around then."

Is that it? Do the two of you just go back to your respective lives now? How can Jay do that, when he doesn't even recall what his life was like before you entered it––and especially when he has absolutely no interest in going back to that life?

Fuck it.

"Y/N!" He stands up straight, a newfound confidence taking over. This time will be different, he tells himself. Because now, he knows what he wants. For sure.

You turn towards him, to see him already making his way towards you, stopping in his steps when he finds himself close enough to you that he can't concentrate anymore.

"I'm sorry for ditching you in the eighth grade. I'm sorry for ignoring you since then. I'm sorry for dragging you into this stupid mess and for pushing you away and I'm sorry for calling you a toy. Because it's far from truth. I like you. A lot. And––and I'm scared. I'm scared of what this means for us, because I just keep messing things up and all I know is that I don't wanna wake up tomorrow and realize you're not in my life anymore and––"

"Woah, woah, Jay. Slow down," you look up at him, the corners of your lips threatening to curve up into a smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

Jay's never really confessed his feelings to anyone before, per say, so he doesn't really know what to expect. But he's watched enough Netflix rom-coms in this lifetime (which is still not that many) to know that hearing the words "you're an idiot" isn't what you're supposed to hear after pouring your heart and soul out. Surely not, right?

"I––I'm not sure how to respond to that," he quietly says, searching your eyes for a sign, for anything. You giggle at his sudden shyness as you grab both his arms and look at him right in the eyes.

"It's okay. I get it, if anything, I'm also scared. But you somehow got me wrapped around your stupid finger, and I hate it," you smirk at him, your hands slowly making their way up his arms to circle around his neck.

Jay's hands naturally fall at your waist as he lets out a breathe he didn't even know he was holding as he returns your smirk. "Well, I could say the same about you. And I also hate it, for your information."

"Hmm, is that so? I guess it cancels out then, right?" You smile at him as he's pulling you in so close, your head turns cloudy.

Jay grins at you, his eyes holding so much joy and endearment as they quickly flicker down to your lips before returning to your own eyes. "I guess this only means one thing then."

"Mm, and what's that?"

And before Jay can answer––and because your life's been anything but normal lately––you make the first move this time, moving your head up to close the small gap between the two of you.

His arms instinctively tighten around you as you capture his lips with your very own, and Jay swears he's about to lift off into space right now. He's on cloud nine, and he makes no plans to touch the ground ever again.

The kiss quickly becomes fervent, all the pent-up tension that the two of you had for one another finally finding its way out, all the words that were previously left unsaid finally expressing themselves. You don't even care if you're being judged by the conservative faculty members of your school right now, or by the looks of fellow students walking past the two of you.

You try your best to keep yourself from smiling as he continues to press his lips against yours, his hand moving to hold your chin, guiding your mouth with his.

Before you find yourself getting carried away, you step back to take a breath, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands rest against your back. He smiles at the sound of you giggling against him.

Jay takes a step back to take one look at you and realizes, in this moment, that change can be good. And he's willing to undergo this change. As long as it's with you.

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The next morning, you bounce down the steps of your dorm building's entrance to meet the wide, bright smile of your ex-childhood-bestfriend-turned-fake-boyfriend-turned-real-boyfriend waiting for you in front of his car, small pastry bag in hand. You smile back at him.

Jay drives you to class that day.

And everyday after that.

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✰ let me know what you think! if u made it til the end, mwah :') <3