#and like i refused to take some classes last semester because then my school would get longer for sure

[stillagoodwitch]

can my advisor PLEASE approve my classes or message me to say i can’t take that many so i know if i can graduate in time

[aching-tummies]

Citrus Latte

(In terrible 90's commercial cheese-y announcer) Back, for a limited time!

Jokes aside, I've been slowly getting settled into my new life. I won't go into details but my non-min-wage part-time job kind of got the ball rolling on me furthering my education to maybe get certified to do more work in that field, eventually. I've still got the min-wage food job and I'm attending courses as an in-person student for part of the week. Basically, I signed my life away for the foreseeable future, committed to having no days off unless it is a government-mandated holiday where the post-secondary institution is required to be closed and neither one of my jobs calls me in for such a day.

Trying to get used to my new life has taken a few weeks and it's been a grueling few weeks. Lots of nodding off in classes or in transit, napping between classes or trying not to fall asleep at my food-job. Trying (and failing) to go to bed earlier and try to be asleep before midnight. All that jazz.

Sleep is out of whack so I've been surviving on coffee. Doing my best to brew at home because prices on campus make me think that it isn't tuition or lack of working hours driving the 'broke student' trope. Seriously, a slice of pizza and a fountain drink together go for more than the standard minimum-wage on-campus. I refuse to support that kind of gouging so I've been committing to staying up until 2AM meal-prepping to ensure I can grab and go at 4AM to catch the first buses heading to my campus. No, my classes are not that early. But transit in my area leaves much to be desired and when the bus is scheduled to show up once every hour--and often skips two or three buses, a frazzled student's gotta do what they gotta do.

Today was one such day where I was running on coffee and panic. I'd forgotten to get my coffee stuff laid out for me to easily use in the morning so I scrambled to make anything that would be my sweet-treat drink of the day and settled on powdered iced-tea mix. It's got sugar and a bit of caffeine so I was hoping that it'd do the job. 4AM, off to catch a bus that may or may not show up.

By around 3PM I was flagging after having basically chugged the iced-tea in hopes the sugar would revitalize me. When I nodded off in my class I knew I had to take drastic action, so I ran down to the nearest coffee shop and committed to paying way-too-much for a hit of the good stuff. I got some Caramel Latte concoction or something and it was divine. I went and attended my last class of the day while trying to ration that precious water of awakefulness.

Our last class decided to let out early so we wound up being done around 5PM. I had plans to rush home, deal with what I had to deal with, and maybe hit sleep-ville by 8PM.

As I was packing up my school stuff, classmates kept on approaching me. Some to chat casually. Others to ask me for help proof-reading their assignments or to ask about a specific section of the lecture that they couldn't hear very well and were hoping to compare notes with mine (I'm considered a keener and open about trying to help everyone pass the course so people approach me often). While I normally don't mind this kind of interaction 'cuz the more of us that pass, the less I have to worry about making friends in future semesters…today just wasn't my day.

For those that do not know what a Latte is…here it's basically a shot of espresso with the rest of the cup filled with milk. A shot is not a lot of liquid so probably only 1/8th of my cup was coffee and caramel and the rest was all milk.

Milk normally doesn't play nice with my guts anyway, but today the milk had trickled into a system completely saturated with lemon-y, sugary tea. My guts were cramping and twisting like an angry viper for the last 10 minutes of class and I was in a hurry trying to pack up my things to beat a hasty retreat before my stomach decided to void itself by any means necessary.

I stayed behind to chat with a few classmates, not wanting to be rude, but the second all my stuff was in my bag I basically booked it out of the room and down the stairs.

My stomach hurt so, so, so, so bad!

I nearly tumbled down four levels of stairs because my stomach hurt so bad and I just wanted to curl up and rub it…or rip it all out to get rid of the problem completely. Plans to rush home were immediately dashed and I bolted in the hopes of finding a less busy washroom.

I had started the day out on an upset stomach. Stress, lack of sleep--etc. In the morning, I'd had the sense to find a washroom hidden in a corner of campus that had no classrooms (just an out-of-use office) so that washroom basically experienced zero traffic and likely only ever saw single-digit visitors throughout the course of an entire day. I got to use it in peace in the morning.

Unfortunately for me, my last class of the day was diagonally opposite that secluded washroom and my cramping tummy was making it very clear that it would not let me clear campus. I ended up rushing into one of the more busy washrooms and doing my business there. I definitely stayed there longer than I needed to just to wait for a lull when the washroom would be empty so that I could beat an exit without anyone giving me weird looks.

I ended up getting home maybe an hour and a half later than I'd planned because transferring on transit amplifies wait-times. Being 10 minutes late to the first bus you take snowballs into having to wait another 40-50 minutes for the next one, which snowballs into waiting 20 minutes for the next transfer, which snowballs into 20-40 minutes for the last transfer--and that's my route to and from campus…so…like…being in the washroom for an extra 10 minutes has a domino effect on timing.

I'm home now. Luckily, my stomach didn't embarrass me on the ride home. I got home, rushed around my place trying to get things in order. I've let laundry pile up for three weeks, haven't put away my socks or whatevers, and needed to sort out clean from dirties and figure out which items had to be hand-washed and air-dried. Once I got all those stressors out of the way and finally allowed myself to sit down, I finally had the mental capacity to pay attention to my body. My stomach is hurting again.

Send me your best responses? My stomach's been upset all day and chugging lemon-tea and following that up with a latte that most definitely curdled going through my citrus-y guts has done it zero favors. Any ideas on what to do to the mess that is my achy tummy?

[wttcsms]

sorry if you're not comfortable answering this, but I saw you say that you've been diagnosed with depression. how did you know when to seek help?

tl;dr: from a young age, i never lived a healthy lifestyle with an easy pace. i (and maybe even my family) put too much pressure on me, and i never really coped with it in a healthy manner. my attempt at handling things "with ease" and "not stressing" was actually just me bottling up my emotions, and it's not until things started getting really bad that i finally sought help.

nothing uncomfy abt it at all! discussion of mental health is pretty important! tbh, i never thought i would have depression or be diagnosed with it; i started showing symptoms for around a year before i started really thinking to myself, hey, i think there might be something up with me mentally and this isn't just some silly, quirky thing i'm going through. ever since i was around 18, i went through great lengths to ensure i would achieve maximum academic success but while being a full-time college student and consistently working 60+ hours a week (70+ during the summer bc my junior year internship was so intense; i also went to college 2 years early, so i think that's when the internal pressure to "do well in life" began) was taking a massive toll on me mentally and physically. i would survive off of 4-5 hours of sleep, consume concerning amounts of caffeine, i was losing hair, i was losing drastic amounts of weight, i was breaking out and breaking down, and even when i got better, i still wasn't fully ever healed from that experience purely bc my schedule just never slowed down.

i am still a full-time student, i am still working 7 days a week, leading to 60+ hours (40 hours internship, 20 hours at my weekend part-time job). on top of that, i am in the second to last semester of my grad school, i help out around the house bc after my older sister moved out, i took over the eldest daughter duties, i am still holding myself to a very high standard academically (already planning to apply to phd programs, studying for the cpa exam, already have another summer internship lined up). i knew things were getting bad because 1) i am finally older (im abt to turn 21! yay!) and i realized that the lifestyle i'm living isn't healthy and 2) a lot of my behaviors didn't feel "normal" to me anymore. it finally hit me around two months ago, when i realized that i sort of lost my love for fanfiction. i've been in a weird mood where i didn't want to read any fanfic whatsoever, but i chalked it up to being "too busy" and focused on other things. when i couldn't even find the energy to read my own mutual's fanfic, i knew something was up bc i always try to power through and remain enthusiastic on my friends' behalf. more behaviors that were a cause for concern:

my disinterest in everything that brought me joy previously. sweet treats at the end of the day, coffee before work, buying makeup from sephora, cleaning my room (sounds silly, but i love having a clean living space and cleaning my room used to be a source of peace and joy for me), writing fanfiction, reading books, watching youtube videos, catching up on shows that would release weekly and that i used to count down the days to watch — none of it held my interest. i wasn't excited, i didn't care.

it wasn't just a lack of joy from things i loved, either. rejections from programs i looked forward to/rejections from opportunities, abysmal grades in class, looming deadlines that i most likely wouldn't make, growing assignments on my work to-do list; none of this elicited a reaction from me. there was no stress (that i was feeling; subconsciously, i think the stress was still there and i just refused to acknowledge it), but there also wasn't disappointment or sadness. i had no emotional response to anything, and that was very concerning to me, and the main reason i contacted my sister and then her boyfriend (who is a licensed psychiatrist)

i could sleep for 12+ hours a day. there are many days in the week where all i want to do is rot in bed. not even in a "go on my phone and dick around in bed" type of way, either. i would have certain days where i couldn't leave the bed. sometimes, i wouldn't even feel tired, but i would just sleep. my internship is wfh and if it was a slow day with no assignments, i would clock in and spend that whole day in my bed, sleeping. it got to the point where i wish work was busy so i would have something to force me out of bed. yes, i would be aware of my tiredness sometimes, but this felt different altogether. i just wanted to basically hibernate lol.

i had constant headaches. i thought it was because of the nature of my job, where i look at computer screens all day, or maybe it was bc i wasn't drinking enough water. i would also get unexplainable cramps sometimes.

tmi, but little to no pleasure and an extreme decline in interest in sex

i had extreme issues with focusing on work and studying; a lot of my work (and school materials) centers around thinking through problems and applying tax law or guidance to certain situations.

my diet fluctuated; some days, i wouldn't want to eat, yesterday, i gorged myself on food, eating to the point where even i had to pause and go wtf.

not very often was i randomly sad, nor did i ever want to kill myself or self-harm; when i was a teenager (17/18) and probably showing signs of depression, i was very irritable, angry, sad, and had suicidal thoughts, thought i was worthless, an idiot, etc. however, i mostly just feel empty and apathetic during my episodes now.

what helped me seek help was knowing that my behaviors and how i was feeling didn't feel healthy, but also, my best friend recently shared her diagnosis with me and i would have never thought she would be depressed. my sister's bf was also a major help in getting me comfortable to consider the possibility of having a mental illness and also in finding someone to talk to. hope this helps!

edit: forgot to mention it, but i exhibited many/all of those symptoms for around the past 3 months before ever seeking help. those behaviors started manifesting tremendously and seriously disrupting my daily life, and i knew i needed to do something to get my life back on track.

[funnylittlelad]

life update, or a not-quite-so-funny story about disability, loss, and academia:

i go to school. i did well enough in community college to earn a place in all the honors classes i wanted, started a new wave of activism on my campus, and then got into what was meant to be a fancy program and transferred. now by the time i started the transfer process, i had already been going to the doctors. doctors who told me i was fine, i needed more exercise, i need to learn to just live with my body how it is, and there's nothing wrong. so, i had an idea something was up and i was worried. what if i start this whole big new thing and i end up actually being really sick? then i hear some amazing news from the program! they've had a student who had become ill and needed to take time off and were able to do so without an issue! great! well, i won't get into all the stress-inducing, symptom-worsening stuff that happened in between, but i will say this: it was utter bullshit.

there was a week last october where i buried someone incredibly important to me and a few days later received a hypermobile ehlers danlos syndrome diagnosis. A diagnosis i knew was coming by this time, but was hard all the same. i tried desperately to arrange time off. i had just started a new student organization that was, once again, trying to start a new wave of activism on campus, but i was (and still am) grieving so many things, including my own living body. when i tried to ask, beg, plead for just one semester off- just one- i was essentially told no. i asked about a medical leave, since i was told about that student who got sick and needed time. i was informed i either had to drop out entirely or go part time and risk my funding. they were nice enough to find a work around for me to stay on part time without sacrificing funding. it wasn't enough. it wasn't even a good idea.

i needed time to not be a student, student leader, or activist. i needed time to grieve and stop putting my health to the side and build back as much as i could. i was terrified because of how things were worded that if i left now they would make it harder for me to come back. so, i decided to tough it out.

here's the thing about disability: it can't be toughed out.

i didn't have the capacity to deal with it all and so many things were neglected by me because of it. my grades have suffered and so have i. now, i spent a year of school that did almost nothing for me as a student but instead stressed me out to the point of barely being able to function because of how bad my physical symptoms have gotten.

i'm dropping out for now. i have like a year left and i can't make it through as i am. my mobility has declined so much and i've lost a notable amount of weight. i can't be in school and focus on getting the medical care i need. it feels like i wasted so much fucking time when all i needed was a break to deal. and now i can't stop thinking about the student i heard about who got so sick and the school was able to help and provide a break for and i realized the difference. they had something they could make better. they had something they saw a horizon on. i don't. they don't trust i wont need more breaks so they refused to give me even the one.

oh, and after not giving me the time off i begged for, causing my grades to suffer, they now want half my funding for the last semester back.

at least im leaving that campus with better access to gender neutral bathrooms? i don't know im just trying really hard to find a bright side.

[anterocash]

Mr. street pt. 3

part one. / part two. 

The semester was basically over, with summer around the corner. Min knew if he confronted Mr. Street as he wanted, he would ultimately be expelled right before graduation; that felt like letting that geriatric bastard win again, and Min refused to leave Hotchkiss like that. He didn’t apply to many schools, but the ones he did apply to accepted him. Minkyu did an exuberant amount of extra credit in different classes to try and compensate for the dip Mr. Street put in his GPA. It worked. Min didn’t want to spend his last semester doing random assignments. He pushed through it; he would have rather died in heavy traffic than have his unweighted GPA ruined by some decrepit piece of shit. 

His method of confrontation didn’t matter; once he had seen his grade, Min began to formulate his next move. Everyone at Hotchkiss has super-rich white people/ old money waspy names. ‘Huck’ ‘Tripp’, well, there was a computer genius named Fletcher Allen Jr; his parents were low-budget Hiltons, own a hotel chain he’s set to take over when he’s older. But to bide his time until he moved into his dorm room at Harvard, for the right price, he did things for people on the computer. He and Min were sort of business partners. Min wrote the essays, and Fletch, as he was affectionately called, did the more technical stuff, grade changes, and pranks on other students. He was air-dropping things before AirDrop was a thing. 

Fueled by humiliation and rage, Min shoved a few hundred dollar bills into the wannabe Mark Zuckerberg’s hand, asking him to ruin everything for Mr.Street. Fletcher was apprehensive at first — why Mr. Street? Everyone liked him, even when he was a hardass. 

“He fucked with my GPA,” Min explained as if that should be a sufficient answer. “Do your worst, or we’re both going down,” because if Min were to rat Fletcher out about his grade-changing gig, he’d have to confess to the essay writing he did for three and a half years, which simply couldn’t happen. The underclassmen ruined the poker nights; they didn’t need any more run-ins with the administration. “Are you threatening me, Min?” Fletcher asked, unsure whether he wanted to fight the guy or not. In the end, money was money, and Fletcher liked a challenge. Minkyu looked at the tech wiz expectantly; it wasn’t a threat but a promise. 

“Fine.” 

—

Two days after Fletcher agreed to help Minkyu, he cornered Minkyu in the library. Minkyu was writing another essay for another jock for money to spend in the city that upcoming weekend. 

“You want me to do what?” Minkyu stage whispered from behind a bookcase in the non-fiction section, away from the other studying students. That didn’t stop Fletcher from looking around cautiously before leaning back in. “I can’t do it from my dorm; his laptop is too far, I need you to get it closer, or I can’t do anything.” 

Minkyu sighed deeply, lulling his head side to side in consideration.  He wanted Mr.Street to suffer for what he did, but he didn’t need the opportunity of trouble to walk in his way. Minkyu already gave Fletcher the money. He wanted to get what he had paid for. “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do this week. Time is ticking, Fletch.” 

Minkyu decided the best time to try and get the laptop would be near the end of the school day, when the faculty stood in the hallway, monitoring students as they went to their various after-school activities. Earlier that day, Minkyu laid down the foundation, and once the bell chimed, he decided to strike. He felt like James Bond, a very tall James Bond, as he waded through the throng of his peers. It was easy; Mr. Street kept his room unlocked, eliminating one thing Min would have to do. Everything seemed ten times louder in his ears in the quiet classroom as he walked between the rows of desks until he reached the back where Minkyu sat.

It was a notebook Minkyu left on top of the AP Chemistry textbook stored underneath; he quickly shoved it into his messenger bag. While he walked out, he stopped by the teacher’s desk and snatched his laptop, charger, and all, pushing it into his bag before high-tailing it out of there. Heart pounding in his ears, panic ran through him at the sound of his name being called out. 

“Minkyu, come here for a second.” Mr. Street called out, forcing the teenager to turn around and walk over, holding his bag against him protectively as he stood in front of the teacher. The older man sized him up with a look. “Did Yale get back to you yet?” Oh, right. In a way to ‘bond’ with Minkyu or something, Mr. Street had suggested he apply to the man’s alma mater, something the teenager found laughable since the old bastard tried to ruin his GPA and still expected Minyu to be the exemplary student (he was, he couldn’t help it.) Minkyu shrugged, “I haven’t checked yet.” They accepted him, and Minkyu didn’t want to give the chemistry teacher the satisfaction that they would have something in common. 

“You’re a bright young man, Mr. Lee. But don’t let that be the only thing about you. You’re more than just your grades, don’t forget that.” 

Minkyu didn’t know what to say. To be honest, it was too late. He and the other adults around him had already made him ‘gifted’ his whole personality. It didn’t matter that he also played sports, liked to watch war movies and wrote poetry. Min was the kid going into his first year of university, technically a sophomore from all the college courses ( Mr. Street’s included) he had been taking since 10th grade, he was soooo smart, and that was the only way Minkyu could get anyone to pay attention to him. 

(Ten-plus years later, Cash wonders what life would have been like if he had taken the man’s words to heart, it probably would have helped him a lot.)

“Thanks,” Minkyu muttered awkwardly before taking off to meet with Gideon.

—

It’s mid-lesson when the head of the school walks into Mr.Street’s classroom, and the room goes silent as he’s taken out into the hallway, “what do you think happened?” Anderson asks Minkyu as he taps away on his phone, no doubt texting their mutual friend. Min merely shrugs, playing unaffected; Fletcher had texted him the week prior, saying he got the job done. After the run-in, Minkyu snuck back into the classroom to put the laptop back once it was within range, and Fletcher did his thing. All Min had to do was leave an ‘anonymous’ tip and let the dominoes lay how they wanted. Min didn’t know precisely what Fletcher did, just that he had some outside help from his dark web friends; the less Minkyu knew, the boys couldn’t incriminate themselves, technology works in mysterious ways, and they didn’t need it to get back to them. 

The voices in the hallway began to grow in volume, Mr. Street yelling and shaking his arm out of the police officer’s grasp. Indeed this had to be a mistake; he wasn’t into that stuff. It takes three cops to escort him off campus; the school head awkwardly stayed and played substitute after handing the laptop over to a detective. Quickly the word got around how he was arrested during the middle of class for having kiddie stuff on his computer, a concerned informant made to Litchfield County Police, and they took him in for questioning. 

“Yo… that’s insane,” Gideon said as he sat with Min and Anderson after school as they retold the event from earlier that day. 

“I…” Min’s voice trailed off as he shrugged. Now that Mr.Street’s life and reputation were finally ruined, the teenager wasn’t sure how he felt. The immediate dopamine rush as he heard the cops escort Mr.Street off campus had finally waned, and Minkyu wasn’t sure what would happen next. The C was forever on his transcript, and Mr.Street wouldn’t be able to teach again, something Min thought was a fair trade. The contents planted were a bit much, and he even texted Fletcher saying so, who said it wasn’t his idea; but his dark web friend’s. Minkyu was somewhat amazed and dropped the subject. 

“So close to graduation too….” Anderson lamented. He never had an issue with the chemistry teacher. Minkyu never thought this would happen. Gideon squeezed Anderson’s knee in an attempt to bring the boy some sort of comfort, and Minkyu rolled his eyes, not in the mood for the couple’s affection (if Minkyu was single, he wanted his friends to be single as well, which he couldn’t control and hated that.) “Oh well…” Minkyu sighed and stood, stretching out, “see you guys at dinner? When you’re done sucking each other’s dicks.”

Min swatted at the paper balls that were tossed at him with a laugh, giving the couple the finger before taking off. 

– 

“We need to talk.” Was the first thing Fletcher said to Min a few days later. For the millionth time, he found himself sighing and rolling his eyes as he followed him to the courtyard where students weren’t because it had just rained the night before. “What is it? The bell can ring at any moment, now.” Minkyu looked at his watch; he didn’t like being the last person to walk into the classroom, nor did he like being the very first. Min was weird, and he knew it. “Why did you want to set up Mr.Street?” He asked Minkyu demandingly, whose eyes narrowed, and he stood up straighter. “Why does that matter? I didn’t ask you about what you did, which was….” Minkyu shook his head in disgust. 

“This isn’t about me, Min. Answer the question. Mr. Street do something to you?”

“Why does that matter?” Min snapped, growing impatient. 

“Because I feel bad!” Fletcher exclaimed in a growing voice. “You don’t feel bad? I thought it was just a prank. I didn’t know you wanted to get him fired –”

Minkyu slapped his hand over Fletcher’s mouth, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Have you lost your goddamn mind? Lower your voice.” He hissed in Fletcher’s face, who shoved at Min, which prompted him to shove the other boy back. They went back and forth like this. A crowd gathering at the doorway caught a teacher's attention. Who had pushed her way through the crowd just in time; Minkyu had his fist thrown back when she got in between them.

“Enough! All of you! Go to class now!” 

The teacher doesn’t discipline the pair since graduation is so close. Fletcher and Minkyu are usually well-mannered boys (or so she thought.) This had to be a simple misunderstanding, and she hoped they could make up without it getting physical again.

–

The senior activities go as planned, even with the Mr.Street scandal looming over the school like a stormy cloud. Word spread, and the administration didn’t want the image of the esteemed prep school tarnished by a beloved teacher with an apparent dark side he kept very well hidden. It was the world’s quietest investigation known to man. The last thing they wanted was to lose the endowment money and the potential for more with bright new students with very wealthy parents. 

–

Minkyu knew his parents would be in the crowd, bragging about his academic achievements. As if they helped him through it all these past years. Minkyu was letting it slide. He was not going to let those grifters ruin his day.

They had finally got to the L’s – the whole row of teens moving towards the stage in anticipation; it’s all white noise until it’s not. 

“Minkyu Lee…” he could hear his friends cheering for him just like he did for them, and if he listened hard enough, he could hear his parent as well. This is what he wanted, right? For everyone to be cheering, his parents acknowledging his existence – proud of him. He was so happy he could have cried, and his eyes grew hot behind his glasses, and he quickly shook that off – the last thing Minkyu needed was someone to see him showing some sort of emotion to be used against him later on. His scholastic achievements were listed like a grocery list, and Minkyu couldn’t help the pride he felt. 

Yet, in the back of his mind, Minkyu knew this was all temporary and the happiness wouldn’t last.

Only a matter of time before the bubble bursts, and he lands back in reality.

[ramblingvents]

Ramble

2024 has been such a weird year for me personally. Its kinda been the year where all of the maladaptive coping skills that I knew on some level were unsustainable stopped working.

Throughout a lot of school, I slept 6 hours or less. I could only do work at the last minute, out of fear of failure rather than love for learning. This somehow got me 3/4 of the way through a Physics degree before I got seriously burnt out from over-exerting myself (which people had been warning me about since highschool).

This was the year I finally got treatment for ADHD (tho I realized that Adderall makes me unable to sleep). It was the year I started getting treatment for migraines because it had reached a breaking point.

Last year during Fall semester was the first time I talked about the suicidal ideation that I've had for a decade with anyone. I refused to make a safety plan at that time because I didn't want to worry my friends/partner/parents. I wasn't able to see my therapist due to insurance after December. This is only relevant to this year because I eventually got out of the depressive episode, swore it wouldn't happen again, made an AITA post on whether I should make a safety plan and then proceeded to mostly ignore it. It got bad again in March. I told one of my friends and it was the first time I told anyone close to me. And I think talking about it and coming to her for help actually ended up making our friendship closer.

Around that time though, I was once again taking on too much because I promised a friend I'd do a project I knew I wasn't capable of. I was still sleeping 4 hours, dissociating in all of my classes, and then one of my grandparents died and I spiraled into the worst depressive episode of my life. I had days where I couldn't remember basic course material or even my name for like an hour at one point when I was really sleep deprived. I ended up almost attempting at the end of April, stopped at the last minute. Then proceeded to not tell any one that had happened, and went to another state for an internship for 3 months.

At the internship, I was trying really hard to be agreeable to everyone and people-pleasing and then had my coworkers exclude me for being autistic (literally had someone ask me that as soon as a senior scientist left the car on a road trip) for pretty much the whole summer. I definitely think some of this was me not really being in a good place anyway, but it was really difficult because I have RSD, I didn't have a car, so I had to walk like 45 minutes each way for groceries.

And then my project didn't work because I couldn't get the program to install on the thing it was supposed to for reasons that weren't my fault and I had to install and reinstall it effectively like 20-30 times, while my program director got mad at my mentor, before completely isolating myself in my room and doing the entire project in 2 weeks.

And like I think that was the first time I really internalized that you cannot make people like you and at a certain point people-pleasing to people who don't like you for reasons out of your control is just hurtful to yourself.

Anyway I had a whole breakdown at the end of that internship even though I did learn a lot and then started school like a week later and decided to take 18 credit hours. I also reached out and got accomodations for the first time but they didn't end up going into effect until late October so not the most helpful. I was really hoping to do well this semester to like 'make up' for grades in other classes, and I thought the ADHD meds and treatment would fix everything, but I've ended up burning out really hard, partially because I think the Adderall caused mania like symptoms (couldn't sleep more than 4 hours for like 3-4 weeks, keep missing homework, but like I didn't care and felt relatively euphoric and was barely aware of anything till I stopped taking it at week 8). Also because I was trying to "lock in" and didn't socialize with people as much as I should of.

I did as much as I could accomodations wise to get reduced course load for next semester and looked into a leave of absence if I need it. I also started seeing a therapist for ADHD management, was completely honest about suicidal ideation from the start and haven't lied or omitted anything in any of our sessions, which ended up being really useful because it meant that when the ideation did come back due to insomnia I had a safety plan and coping techniques, and she could monitor me when I started an antidepressant mid-semester. Also worth noting that everyone I was super close to graduated last semester, so having that support was really helpful.

That actually ended up turning well and I'm finally at a place where I'm stable though still having some depressive symptoms and difficulty sleeping/focusing. My grades are not good this semester but I have reduced course load, I'm going to take an extra year, and I'm gonna try to figure out how to do college in a way that's more sustainable and where I can retain the content better.

Also importantly I realized that the ideation is more a symptom of a need that's unmet for me. Like it didn't start back up until I was sleep deprived and unable to focus on my classes.

Very mixed bag of "a lot of things happened that were kinda festering for a while and got triggered by too many events" and "I'm actually starting to get help for my chronic illnesses and mental health, even if I haven't made a lot of progress yet". It could have gone a lot worse and I'm grateful to have gotten the support I have.

[damnedmidnights]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞; 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞.

𝑰𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘. . .

𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅.

Growing up, people always asked, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I always responded that I aspired to be a writer, driven by an unrelenting passion for books and the power of words on pages. I can tell when an author bares their soul and lets themselves bleed on the pages. That's why I loved books and enjoyed getting lost in them. My parents refused to support my passions once I voiced them. Mother insisted women in our family must either join the business or pursue law, crushing my desires. Her words, "Lana, be useful, we have no use for writers or poets, it's absurd," shattered my dreams, proving my life wasn't mine. It was 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 going to be mine. My life's path was predetermined at birth, including the schools I'd attend and activities I'd participate in, all figured out in a frustrating way.

I am now facing a situation where, despite being in my mid-twenties, I’m still fighting to be my own person. My parents invited me to dinner, apparently to reconnect after almost two months, but it was actually a deliberate ambush.

“You will finish Law School, Lana. That is final, or I will cut you off.” My father stated, and I shook my head while gazing down at the dinner, instantly losing my appetite. “How did you find out?” I asked, but my mother responded, “The principal and I have a good relationship. I requested she confirm your enrollment for the fall semester, and upon learning you hadn’t, I informed your father, in case you entertained any notions.” My mother’s smirking gives me an ick, if only I could wipe it right off her face. “You’ve enrolled in some creative writing classes—additional extras and distractions. You won’t pursue those next semester right, Lana?” My mother's scolding persisted until my father joined in. "Is this what this is about? Face the facts, Lana, you were 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 destined for writing success." His words cut deeply, and I began to question why I endure this treatment from them.

They are my parents, but neither of them seem to care for my thoughts or feelings, so why do I persist in clinging to a thread that would be easier to sever? For too long, I let them diminish my power and stifle my voice, but I'm done with that.

𝙏𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙨, 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙨.

“You know what? I think this conversation is over. I thought this dinner would be different, that you two would be different, but you'll never change! It's all about control for you! I'm not a business project or something you need to put together. I'm your daughter!” I felt a sense of relief, like an inner weight had been shed, and for the first time, I felt free. I shouldn't have had to beg for affection or feel insufficient unless I complied with their desires. I couldn’t endure it anymore.

Whatever else they were saying didn't matter because I was walking out. I'll definitely need a drink and some fun to take the edge off. It would've been nice if my Indogo ( @VirulentRequiem ) answered, but she was incognito. I was eager to share with my best friend how I stood up to them, but I'll save it. Tonight, it’s just me and my woes, singing beneath the pale midnight at the lake, seated by the rocks with tequila on my tongue…

𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚.

My eyes opened slowly, and the intense light above momentarily blurred my vision so I turned my head but doing that triggered a stabbing pain, forcing me to minimize my movements. I clearly had too much to drink last night, but this bed and its linens are unknown to me. What happened last night? I grimaced in pain while attempting to move my arms, only to find them tied down. Panic surged through me as I tried to move my legs, but they were also bound.

I hear footsteps closing in, a tall figure dominates the space, blocking the light. A man with long dark hair and a masked face looks down, his piercing green eyes locked onto me with a predatory intensity. I perceive the threat I'm facing. A knot emerges in my throat and my heart pounds so fast it pains my chest.

“What am I doing here? Please let me go!”

Begging for my life was my instinct, but I knew it would be pointless. He turned his head to the side, suddenly drawing a blade, and I watched in terror as he caressed the right side of my face with it and brushed my hair back. “No! Please don’t-“ His hand abruptly went onto my mouth, forcing my silence as he shushed me and said “Quiet. Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” His voice was deep, and a hint of darkness lingered beneath it, sending shivers down my spine. He continued tracing the blade down to my neck, where it nicked my flesh. I winced at the pinch and it elicited a scoff from him at my discomfort. Was he really taking pain in my pleasure? What did I ever do to be stuck with a psychopath?

I hear the door swinging open, I have a feeling things could only worsen from here, but he diverts his gaze from me toward whoever was there. Though visibly irritated, I sense reprieve as his focus shifts elsewhere. “Why didn’t you call me when she was awake?” He asked him, but he didn’t say a word. He shrugged his shoulders, turning away from me, and walking over to the man at the door, who, oddly, wasn’t wearing a mask. I guess I expected him to be. “I thought about it, but then I changed my mind.” He finally responded and the other man appeared displeased. He narrowed his eyes, asking, "What the fuck do you mean you changed your mind? Don’t start this shit again. We got a job to finish!"

A sense of unease settled in, I grasped his words pertained to me. That I was the job that needed to be finished. I thought I had escaped one set of constraints only to discover myself trapped in another, and nothing about this feels fair. Tears flood my eyes, spilling down my cheeks, and their intense heat feels like a burning flame. Was I fated for misery? Did life promise nothing but ceaseless torment?

I thought things were worse before, but now I'd rather go back if I knew I'd be trading one prison for another.

[hotchshands]

Chapter 1 | First Day of Class

Masterlist | Taglist | Other Chapters

Summary: The first day of class is upon you and first up is Professor Hotchner's lecture, Intro to Profiling. You've been anxiously waiting for this day to arrive, having picked out your outfit and prepared yourself for his lecture weeks in advance.

Word Count: 2.3k

Contains: professor!hotch x student!reader

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Teacher’s Pet, a Professor!Hotch AU (Yes, I changed the title for the second time). Oh, and imagine readers wearing the outfit above. Last thing to keep in mind, the university is totally made up, but the mechanics are modeled after my uni.

The start of the new semester rolled around quickly, signaling the end of summer and the start of yet another academic year. You weren’t looking forward to the start of the semester until you reviewed your course schedule and saw his name, Aaron Hotchner. The name alone brought back memories of why you registered for the class in the first place.

Fall registration rolled around sometime in March. You had put it off for a while, but you needed to sign up for a university lecture, as your school required every student to take two before graduation. Luckily you were able to take one relevant to your major, so all you needed was one more.

As you scrolled through the course catalog, you were doomed to be unlucky. Everything was completely out of your field of study, and none were remotely interesting, though there was one that sounded like it could be. Intro to Profiling? Hmm.

You click on the course to read more. As you read the course description, the class seemed to be more and more like something you should register for. The lecture meets on Mondays and has discussion sections on Wednesdays at 10 am. The course would be taught by Aaron Hotchner and some TAs would lead the discussion sections.

Aaron Hotchner? Because you weren’t a criminology major, you’d never heard the name before, so you decided to do some research. You did this every semester: Look up the professors and see if there were any major red flags before signing up for their courses. As you Googled Aaron Hotchner, all you saw were articles upon articles about his achievements at the Behavioral Analysis Unit or BAU. Most are about the cases he has worked on, and others about his leadership as the Unit Chief of the BAU.

Clearly, the man was well-educated in the field of profiling, not that it really mattered to you. Now for the ultimate final test: RateMyProfessor. You go on the site and type in his name. Thankfully, several results popped up. Most were from Georgetown University in DC, but a few were from your small private school.

The reviews varied, but they all had one commonality: the man was strict. “Insanely strict,” one reviewer put it. That same reviewer went on to complain that he "failed them." You started to become hesitate. As you continued scrolling through the reviews, more and more said things like “Don't take his class” and “He refuses to give A’s.”

As a person who craved academic validation in the form of a 4.0 GPA, straight As, and high praise from your professors, your brain was screaming RUN. However, a small voice in the back of your head told you to continue your research, so you did.

You read through some of the more nicer reviews. “He's strict as hell, but put in the effort, and you'll get a B.” another reviewer said. Another wrote, “Forced to take this horrible class, but my God, does the professor put the hot in Hotchner!” Your eyes widen at that. Secretly, you always wanted to witness the hot professor trope in action; maybe this was your chance.

You go back to Google and look for images of the man. Since he had been in the press quite a bit, it wasn't hard to find several photos of him in action. Some of the photos were from press conferences, others were taken from the scene. You study each picture you come across like it was a painting. You take in the lines on his face, the browns of his eyes and hair, and the mole on the right of his nose. Right then, your mind was made up; you were taking his class.

As you were preparing for the start of the fall semester, you huffed at all the clothes in your closet—or, according to you, the lack thereof. Hours later, you decide on a more preppy look. You choose a pale blue button-up, a plaid skirt, and a navy blue blazer for your outfit on Monday. The look felt like a cliche, the teacher's pet kind of cliche, but you wanted to impress Professor Hotchner, so you pushed the doubts aside.

The weekend could not have gone by any slower. By the time Monday came, you were antsy. You woke up later than you would have liked, at 8:30, giving you less than an hour to get ready if you wanted to be early for class. One thing you did not want to do was show up late on the first day, especially to Professor Hotchner's lecture. Another commonality those RateMyProfessor reviews had was that Professor Hotchner hated lateness.

You rushed out of bed, brewed yourself a cup of coffee, and got dressed. By the time you were dressed and ready to go, it was nine o'clock. Crap! You didn't have time to make breakfast, so you left the house, stopped in your favorite local cafe, and grabbed a quick bite and another cup of coffee. You were by no means a morning person, so caffeine was a must for a 10 am class, especially one you feared would kick your ass. He had better be worth it, you thought, as you made your way to the classroom listed on your schedule.

The campus was quiet in the mornings, so thankfully, you didn't have to deal with crowds of students. You searched the halls of classrooms before coming across room 213. The door was closed, making you think you were late, but when you glanced at your watch, it was 9:46. You sighed and slowly opened the door into the classroom. Your heart was pounding as you entered the room, which was empty except for one man. You gulp as you look around.

“You're early,” a deep voice spoke.

You look at the man standing in front of the class. He was facing the chalkboard, so you couldn't see his face, but you knew who he was. After he finished writing on the board, he turned around and faced you. “Well, I didn't want to be late on the first day, so...” your voice trailed off as you took in the man now facing you. He looks down at a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him. “What's your name?” he asks while looking at the sheet of paper.

“Y/N,” you answer.

“Y/N, Y/N... Ah, found you,” he mutters, assumely marking you present for class. The sound of your name falling from his tongue mesmerized you. His voice was deep and commanding, and you didn't know if it turned you on or terrified you. He looks up at you again, taking in your frozen state. “Well, uh, find a seat. We'll start at exactly ten o'clock,” he said, returning to work.

You walk toward the middle of the classroom, not wanting to sit in the front or back. Once you sit down, you take out your note-taking materials and wait as students begin to fill the empty seats.

As soon as the clock struck 10, Professor Hotchner began class.

“As many of you already know, the next fifteen weeks will be your introduction to the study of profiling. I will be your instructor on Mondays for the lecture portion of the class. On Wednesdays, my TAs will lead you in discussion. We'll get to introductions in a moment,” Professor Hotchner pauses, picking up a thick stack of papers before handing them off to one of the TAs, who begins distributing the papers to the students.

“The syllabus for the semester is going around. I expect you all to keep up with this, and should any of this change, I will let you know via email. Now, does everyone have a syllabus?” the professor scans the room before continuing. “Good. Let’s get started. My name is Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been a profiler for almost twenty years now and am the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit over at Quanco. My TAs are my colleagues who help me profile all sorts of cases from kidnapping to serial crime.”

Professor Hotchner goes on to talk about his work at the FBI. You dazed off into space shortly after. Rather than pay attention to what was being said, you paid attention to who was speaking. That one review was right. He was hot and completely your type—no one would ever know this because you knew admitting to liking older men would elicit judgemental looks of disgust. Although you were well aware of your preference, you couldn't help but feel like it was a fucked-up fantasy that would never come true. Regardless, it couldn't hurt to dream a little.

“I will expect a level of professionalism from you all and will require your undivided attention during class. If I catch you glancing at your phone, that will be the last time you will have it out during class. You may get away with stuff like that in your other classes, but not in this one. Do I make myself clear?” He pauses, remaining authoritative. The class nods as if this was the moment in the horror movie when the victims knew they were going to die.

“I also expect you to arrive to class on time as we start promptly at ten and end at eleven thirty. If you are late, you will receive dedications in your final grade. Attendance accounts for twenty percent. Remember that,” Professor Hotchner scanned the room, ensuring everyone understood his expectations. His eyes stopped toward the middle of the classroom where you were sitting before turning his gaze to the desk before him.

Man, he sure has high expectations. Do people really fail for being late? I was never one for lateness, but sometimes it's inevitable. I looked around the classroom. Everyone looked terrified, as if they were going to pee their pants. One or two students looked up to the challenge, eager to learn from him—makes sense considering he's the best profiler out there.

Professor Hotchner's firm voice continues, “For your midterm, you will present a profile. For your final, you will write a ten-page essay, which we will discuss in further detail later in the semester. Just note that if you pay attention in class, study hard, and take notes, you'll pass. You may not pass with an A, but I'll admit this class isn't an easy one, so simply passing is quite that accomplishment.” His eyes once again seem to gravitate toward you, and this time, they linger.

“I can already tell whose going to pass and who isn't, but I hope I'm wrong, and you'll all pass. So, prove me wrong,” Professor Hotchner chuckles as he prepares to go over the syllabus.

“How?” you ask before you even realize it. Once you realized you spoke, your eyes widened, and there you were, a deer in the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall.

A hint of a smirk appears on Professor Hotchner's face. You were eager to learn, and he liked that. “Body language reveals so much. I can learn a lot about someone just by observing them,” he spoke professionally.

You ponder his words before speaking, “So you can profile us based on our body language?”

Professor Hotchner's smirk fades and his expression becomes more serious. “No, not exactly,” he answers, his tone firm and serious. “Profiling is about using observations and knowledge to get a sense of a person's behavior. Body language is part of it, but a lot more work goes into it.”

You nod and go back to remaining silent.

Professor Hotchner finishes the class by going over the syllabus in great detail and answering questions, “Alright, that's it for today. I will see you all next week.” Students quickly begin leaving the lecture hall, and the TAs follow, leaving you and the professor alone in the big, empty classroom.

“I appreciate your questions in class today. I hope you'll continue asking questions throughout the semester. Don't be too intimidated by the content. I know it's a lot, but I can tell you're one of the brighter students in the class,” Professor Hotchner said as you exited the row you were sitting in.

You smiled at that. It was nice to hear a professor praise you for once. “Thanks, I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything—” you began before he cut you off.

“Nonsense. You didn't interrupt me.”

You pause at that. For someone so strict, you seemed nice, almost welcoming. “Well, uh, thanks away. I'll see you next week,” you said, turning to exit the room.

“Wait! I uh couldn't help but notice you don't seem like a criminology major, so why take this class?” the professor ejects, looking you over.

You face him, surprised that he knew without actually knowing you. “How did you figure that out?” you said.

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes. “Well, you're dressed like a schoolgirl. Your demeanor is curious yet kind, and you looked at me the entire class rather than at the syllabus or your classmates. Criminology students tend to be professional and overly confident and see their peers as competition. They show up to class right on time, not early, dressed like they already work at the FBI, and pay most attention to those around them.”

You were stunned. How did he observe all this in only 90 minutes? Was he really paying attention to you?

“So what's your major?” Professor Hotchner repeats his earlier question.

“Literature,” you answer.

He smirks, “That makes sense. It suits you. Hopefully, you'll find my class just as suitable.”

You smile, “I hope so, too. Goodbye, Professor.” You exit the class, taking one look back at him before closing the door behind you. He is going to be the death of me, you thought as you walked down the hall, anxious for it to be Monday again.

Taglist: @zaddyhotch @none-of-your-bullshit @snapessecretdiary @uselessnewt @presidentdangdang @lalaehlaa @de-duchess @targaryenswhxre @chicagotrio101 @barbeddreams @adrienneleclerc

[th3houseofleaves]

i am simply thinking about samuel vasilyev today.

he's such a good older brother and teacher.

like i just know his students love him because he's so chill? and he tries so hard to make sure all his assignments n such are accessible to all of his students. bc he's got enough experience with his siblings and his cousin to understand that sometimes, school can be hard. not everyone learns the same.

spending time with noah and seeing some of the difficulties he has reading (bc the language he first learned to read in wasn't english AND dyslexia on top of that) and he decides to research more accessible fonts n types of assignments n books n such for his students that would benefit from them. within the first couple of weeks after he's started offering alternate versions of text (usually that he's personally retyped in a dyslexia friendly font, or that he's found in different languages [as they're available] on the off chance that one of his students isn't as comfortable reading in english as they might be in there first language, something that he definitely understands) students that had been struggling and performing poorly start to improve bc they! can actually understand the assignments and it's not so frustrating to sit down and do them.

& spending time with his cousin milan, someone with the WORST adhd who struggles so much with school, pushes him to figure out ways he can accommodate students that he has that are neurodivergent. he asks milan what usually works best for him and he says that it's the easiest for him to learn when he can listen to the lesson in a recording while working on the assignment, sitting in a lecture hall is hard for him but when he actually records the lecture and can listen back to it, he figured out that he understands things better AND it lets him learn while also keeping himself busy!! bc milan can sit still but it's easier for him to focus on one thing if he's doing another.

so sam takes that into account and when he can he finds audio sources for some of the stuff he assigns to read and shares those resources with his students. he lets them record his lessons, or even does it himself, so that they can listen to it later if they need to and even for neurotypical students, once he starts doing this? grades start improving a lot and students are less stressed about completing assignments and coming to class.

and sam makes sure his students know that if they need any kind of accommodation, he will try and do that for them. if one student needs a little bit more time to do an assignment, he'll give it no questions asked. if a student tells them they have anxiety attacks when they test, he'll ask how he can help and if that means that when they test with him they get to listen to their music or take their test during their free period / lunch period than he'll do it. if a student is worried about having a fidget or about needing to stand or move during class he explains that as long as they're not purposefully trying to disrupt class than they're okay to do what they need. he starts adding visuals to his assignments and using more clearly defined prompts instead of vague ones when students tell him that they learn better when they can see examples or they struggle to complete an assignment when it's not clearly laid out for them. like yes, if it's something requiring their opinion or whatever he's not completely telling them what to write but he is letting them know like. what he wants them to write about? if that makes sense. he's not just asking them to comment on what they read without explaining what exactly he'd like to see. (this is based on my own struggles with my soc class last semester bc my professor didn't have prompts for our weekly discussion posts so i had anxiety attacks bc i had no idea what she expected from me bc i need rules to exist lmao)

and he refuses to startle any of his students who fall asleep during class. he's had that happen to him as a kid and he quite literally ran from the class because it triggered him real real bad. and he's seen how both his brothers react when someone does that and. he's not about to get fucking punched at school lmao (if you wake aeron up and catch them by surprise they come out swinging, something that noah failed to mention the first time sam tried to gently shake aeron awake. the incident ended with aeron apologizing over and over and sam holding an ice pack to his face and rocking a black eye for like the next week.) the other thing with this is, if a kid falls asleep in his class he's gonna figure they need the sleep. he knows how stressful high school / middle school is (idk what year he teaches atm) and he knows what the workload is like + a lot of his students have other responsibilities outside of school. he gets that they're bound to be tired as hell. so if they need to take a little nap during the period they're with him than so be it. he's got the lessons recorded anyways and he knows his students are surprisingly good at helping each other out?

other teachers don't understand why he's so fucking popular lmao and he's like ??? im literally doing the bare minimum and not being a dickhead to these kids i really don't get it either.

he doesn't see anything he does as going above and beyond when it is! he's using so much of his limited free time to make learning easier for his students! he's doing so much, he's doing more than basically every teacher bc they don't have the time or the resources!! and that's no shame on them at all. being a teacher is hard as hell.

[ak357]

Checkmate

As Logan opened the door to his office he can't help think back on what brought them here.

-------------It was a day like any other when he met him.---------------

Logan had a routine, he woke up at precisely 7:00 and put on his glasses got dressed in a black polo shirt with a pair of jeans with a black belt and a blue tie. And went down to make breakfast and say goodbye to his mom who's going to work. After eating breakfast and cleaning up he went to the bus with his backpack. He went to sit the same seat he always sat the second last row to the left by the window. Next to him sat James reading a book about flora and fauna. And they chat idle for a bit.

When he arrived at school everything seemed normal until he went to his seat only to find a boy sitting there. "Excuse me, you appear to be sitting in my seat. "The boy turned around to look at him with his hazel and brown eyes looking at Logan. "There is no assigned seating and I quite like this one." As the teacher walks in Logan huffs and sits next to him. "Everyone I have an announcement to make we have a new student, Janus Serpentine please welcome him with the same respect you would give to your other peers, Janus you can come up here and tell a bit about yourself." Janus stood up and went to the front of the class. "Hello I just moved here from Catania, Italy. I like snakes and reading. I used to be apart of the debate club at my old school and I didn't like moving to a different country"

"Okay why don't you sit back down and we can find you someone to show you around school." Janus sat back down next to Logan. "Logan why don't you give Janus a tour of the school." Logan sighed and stood up and went to stand by the door, "are you coming?" Janus stood up to follow. Logan and Janus spent most of the tour talking about whether or not the school system is a good thing the tour lasted until lunch. Janus ended up joining Logan & James for lunch. "Who's this, Lo?", asked James. "This is Janus Serpentine he is in my homeroom, and will be in my English, geography and PE this year." James nodded. They spent the rest of the day together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan sighed as he went to sit at his desk. He began pulling out paperwork as Thomas came in. "I brought those case files you wanted, sir" Logan looked up at Thomas. "Thank you, Thomas. Did you interview Miss Havenwoods?" Logan said while he sorted out the paper work. "Yes sir, but she refused to talk to me" Thomas said a bit ashamed. "Did she mention why?" Logan said looking back up. "Yes she said she already lost one son she didn't want to lose another." Logan's brow furrowed as he puts the paperwork down "Dammit she was our only lead to taking down the mafia" Logan groaned in frustration. "Thomas, I need some time alone to think about our next step." Thomas nodded and left through the door.

Logan stood up and went to his file cabinet and began pulling out several files. He went to sit back down and started looking through the files.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"School is so annoying!!!" yelled Jessica as the librarian shushed her. "Why are you complaining your always in the top 5 without trying" James said as he rolled his eyes. "Well just because I am naturally smart doesn't mean I don't have to love school!!! Janus back me up" Janus looks up from his book. "Yes of course I would love to be included in this childish debate, instead of doing this project that's worth 50% of our grade" Jessica lightly pushes Janus causing him to huff dramatically. "Since when do you care I'm pretty sure you cheated on the exam last semester." Janus playfully shoved back "Oh, how sure are you?" Jessica rolled her eyes. "Like 90% sure" Janus mockingly squinted his eyes at her. "Really how sure are you?" Jessica laughs "Okay 75%, but I know you didn't study, so you must've cheated" Janus smirked "Not in any way you can prove" Jessica shoved Janus again while he's laughing...

"Hey, Logan, you spaced out, are you okay?" Janus asked giving a gentle tap on Logan shoulder. Logan suddenly looked at Janus startled. "Yea..ye..es yes of course, just thinking." Janus hummed "About what, do tell me." Logan avoided Janus's gaze instead looking at the wall. "I'm merely thinking about the project." Janus narrowed his eyes "Well-" Whatever he was about to say got interrupted by James and Jessica bickering. As librarian came over to shush them. "So are we doing this project or not." Janus turned his attention back to James. "Yes, if the both of you can stop bickering." They spent rest of the time doing the project.

As Logan packed up his school bag, Janus suddenly grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the library and into a broom closet. "Is there a reason for you to drag me in here?" Janus rolled his eyes "You lied back there, what were you thinking?" Logan tried to look anywhere but his friends eyes. "You know we care about you, we'll always be there for you no matter what and you can tell me what's wrong I'll help even if it means thrashing the principle car" Logan snorted "What we both know he deserved it, he had no prove that Jessica cheated" Logan smiled and shook his head then looked back up towards Janus.

"I...my mother...our home was trashed..."Janus looks surprised. "And we've been starting to get death threats about money....I confronted my mom about these and she....she then admitted to borrowing money from the mob." As tears started showing in Logan's eyes. "How....how much does she owe...?"Logan shakes his head. "She still owes them 5000.She said she needed the money for grandma's surgery...I don't know what to do we don't have the money to pay it back..." Logan breathing turned rapid. "Logan look at me, everything is going to be fine, take a deep breathe for 4 seconds." Logan breathed in. "1...2...3...and 4, your doing good. Now hold for 7, and now breathe out in 8."Logan breathed out. They repeated this a few times until Logan clamed down. "Now listen everything is going to be okay. I'm going to help you with the money."

Logan shook his head. "I couldn't possibly take that much money from you...I'm not sure if we can even pay it back." Janus placed his hands on Logan shoulders. "You don't have to pay it back..." Logan looked shocked. "Bu...but...you don't have to do that.." Janus smiled "Logan you're dear friend to me and I know you can't pay for it." Logan smiled at Janus. "Thank you..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The traffic light finally turned green. Logan drove his car forward and towards the first crime scene. He turned on the radio to help calm his nerves in the middle of a song a call interrupted .Logan answered the call. "Logan we've might have found a lead on who's the mafia's boss" said Thomas on the other side. Logan turned his car around to go toward his office. Thomas was already waiting in his office, when Logan enter it. "Hello sir." Logan nodded towards Thomas. "Who's the suspect?" Logan said when Thomas handed the file to him. "Janus Serpentine" Logan dropped the file in shock. "I'm sorry... I didn't think I heard you right..." Thomas looked shocked "I.. said Janus Serpentine"

Logan remembers crying in Janus bedroom. He remembers Janus voice saying "It's gonna be okay Logan... Maybe I can get my parents to take you in." He remembers looking up to Janus in a sort of disbelief mixed with suspicion. Janus nodded knowingly "Do you want to talk about it" as he wiped the tears from Logan's eyes "What should I talk about that this is probably the last time we see each other or that I have to move to a different country with an aunt that I barely know or maybe the fact my mother died" Janus hugged Logan "it's okay one day you'll figure out what to do, whether that is to avenge her or honor her wishes that'll be up to you, but until then you just need to try healing." Logan remembers that was the last time he saw Janus.

Logan didn't want to believe it, the first few weeks of investigating was a blur to him, but after the first few weeks his emotions began to clear up from anger, confusion and sadness to determination. After months of investigating more and more evidence came to light each one more incriminating than the last until finally there was enough evidence to arrest Janus Serpentine, most of which is circumstantial

It had felt like a long drive to Janus mansion. Logan never wanted to believe it but there was too much evidence supporting it. And besides looking back it made sense, after all Janus never told anyone what his parents did for a living that made that much money. It explained the strange men that visited his house and the strange look in his eyes whenever there's a mafia related death, how he had known how Logan's mother had died without being told and without it being in the papers first. Why the cop looked the other way the only time he had convinced Logan to skip a class and they went to an abandoned library that was being remodeled. "We're here!" a loud voice knocked Logan out of his thoughts.

"Thomas stay in the car if I'm not out in our agreed time call for backup" Logon told Thomas as he was getting out the car. "Shouldn't I go with you, we're not allowed to go in alone" Logan shook his head. "I'll be fine, I need to do this alone" Logan closed the door and began walking towards the mansion gates. Logan pressed the intercom's button, it buzzed and a gruff voice answered "Who's there, and could you state your business with Mr. Serpentine?" Logan responded "Could you inform him that Logan Berry is looking for him."

After a few minutes there was a buzzing noise and then the gate opened. Logan steeled himself and walked in and towards the mansion front door. It open as Logan reached for the door a tall bald muscled man in a black suit greeted him. "Follow me" the man in the black suit quickly turned around and begun walking, Logan followed him. After a while they reached a large ornate door. The man in the black suit knocked on the "he's here" he walked away as the door opened. Logan walked in and was greeted by a tall blonde man with burn marks on half of his face, his were amber and brown, he smiled to Logan. "It's been a long time we last saw each other, would you like some tea?"

"Your apart of the mafia..." Janus smiled weakly as he poured a cup of tea for Logan. "Why don't you sit down" Logan hesitantly shook his head "No I won't I am here to do my job" Janus cocked his eyebrow "Really than why did you come here without a partner or backup" Logan narrowed his eyes. "Why didn't you stop them" Janus seamed surprised by the sudden question. "I'm sorry but your mother was barely able to pay the first debt I couldn't get my parent to agree me paying off her debt a second time, besides I think they knew she couldn't pay them off, I belief that they just wanted to use her as an example." Janus said expressionless. "Why didn't you call the police" Logan said in anger. "I couldn't betray my family like that, no matter who had to get hurt."

Logan hand clenched into a fist. But he took a deep breath to calm down. "Janus you and both know you're guilty so it would be beneficiary if you'll confess and turn yourself." Janus studently angerly stood up "YOU DARE, come in my home after we haven't spoken in years and accused me on circumstantial evidence, and you and I both know you'll never find enough evidence to even get a warrant so, if you so please leave my home before I'll have your fiancé sleeping with the fishes, as they say." Logan looked shocked "How..." Janus rolled his eyes "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you poking around" Logan's face morphed into one of anger "You have no right to threaten him, or-" "Or what are you going to be doing, nothing, so I suggest you skip town before you end up just like your mother." Deep seething anger boiled in Logan's chest, so much that he pulled his pistol from his jacket and year of determination of looking for a way to bring his mother killer to justice, years of being lied to and unanswered questions, months of dead ends and false herrings and a decade of pent up emotions fueled his actions, as he aimed his gun towards Janus and then-"

"Bang"

[strange-lamp-stranger]

OKOK this is just pasted in from my notes app so apologies if the formatting is weird! it's very much so just the way i spat it all out of my brain and onto the page, lol. i also started actually planning out plot beats n stuff in case i was gonna write a whole fic but i don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon, so i'll throw those in too! it's all under the cut because. long.

Modern AU Kyana-centric. Takes place in Canada because i said so.

She's studying business administration in uni and feeling really stuck in life. She rents a tiny basement apartment, and while she gets along with most of her classmates, she's not close with any of them (but she is closest with Ione, who has a crush on Kyana). Not to mention, the department head, Dr. Rose Sephrum, who is incidentally Kyana's great-aunt and closest living relative, is bitter and overly strict. While Kyana is actually pretty good at most of the stuff in her classes, she's struggling to keep up because she isn't receiving any supports for her (undiscovered & undiagnosed) ADHD.

Kyana's backstory: grew up in foster care after her parents died when she was a toddler. She never got adopted and bounced around a lot of different homes. Dr. Sephrum could have adopted her, but refused. When Kyana turned 18, she entered into a government program supporting young adults coming out of the foster care/child welfare system. She basically gets a government stipend every month. It pays her rent and groceries and not much else, but between those payments and gov't student loans/grants, she's able to comfortably support herself. She volunteers at a local animal shelter every other weekend WITH IONE!!

Dani's backstory: She grew up with her cousins Roy (4 years older than her) and Egan (1 year older than her, but 100% the baby of the family) under the care of her Uncle Oto. (The three of them nicknamed their backyard and make-do play area "the Heap" because it was. well. a big heap of junk that Oto could never be bothered to clean up). Oto was one of those father figures that is definitely shitty, but also definitely cares and is always doing what he thinks is best for the kids, even if it's incredibly misguided. In highschool, Dani's only good grades were in math and tech/construction classes, but she had a reputation for doing dangerous and impulsive things in her tech classes without her teachers' permission. She got an apprenticeship as a mechanic at a local appliance repair shop right out of highschool. DANI IS AUTISTIC. IT SHOWS. KYANA'S TOO POLITE TO ASK ABOUT IT SO FOR A GOOD WHILE SHE JUST THINKS DANI'S WEIRD FOR NO REASON. (Dani got diagnosed in middle school because social differences were really starting to show and she was getting kind of bullied, and the school psychologist saw her and was like "hmmm i have a suspicion".)

Fic begins when Kyana's roommate moves out mid-semester (they were apparently on academic probation and got their last strike), leaving Kyana stranded and needing a last-minute roommate. She put out an ad and the first person to respond was Dani. Dani the appliance technician apprentice. Dani with her wild blue hair and adorably annoying cat, Plug. Dani's passion for life rubs off on Kyana, who begins to feel inspired again.

Eventually, Ione moves in with Kyana and Dani [she DOESN'T get together with Kyana, who is Very Aroace. Actually, when she learned that her feelings weren't and never would be reciprocated, Ione decided, in her self-destructive ways, that the best way to deal with it would be to completely break off her friendship with Kyana so that Ione's feelings might fade. After a year or so, her romantic feelings DO fade, but she still feels a gaping, Kyana-shaped hole in her life. Ione's convinced it's because she's not actually over her feelings for Kyana yet, but really it's because—regardless of the type of attraction she feels—she's in love with Kyana and has developed a similarly strong "squish" (platonic crush). Kyana, after some prodding from Dani, decides to try to reconnect with Ione, and that's when they become friends again, and move in together and eventually become platonic life partners.]

Plot beats (UNFINISHED):

- Dani moves in. Background exposition on why Kyana needed a new roommate. Kyana instantly falls in love with Plug. Kyana is clearly burnt out from school.

- Kyana goes to class. We meet Professor Sephrum and Ione. Kyana and Ione study together. Kyana laments how much she dislikes the program they're in, and Ione agrees but says that she herself feels like she just needs to suck it up until she graduates. she thinks it'd be a waste of her athletic scholarship otherwise (Ione is a lightweight wrestler. Kyana was on the highschool wrestling team with her but dropped it after highschool). Kyana thinks that is a really sad outlook to have.

- Kyana fails one of her courses because she couldn't keep up with the courseload. She desolately contemplates dropping out. Dani learns about Kyana having failed that class and gets Kyana her favourite flavour of gum (she'd seen Kyana chewing it while doing chores around the house) and gives Kyana an awkward pep talk. Plug is a cute little asshole. Dani tries to steer Kyana in a positive direction and asks what course(s) she did best in. Kyana says she got a 78 in her kinesiology elective. [warblingly like, yknow, someone who was just crying really hard a few minutes ago] "I wish I'd done better, honestly. It's the one class I actually looked forward to."

- Semester 2 reading week—Kyana and Ione finally catch a break and Dani invites them to come with her on the roadtrip she's been planning on taking to go visit Roy and Egan. (Incidentally, Kyana has been taking another kinesiology elective and really enjoying it also. She's considering declaring it as her minor.) The three of them (and Plug. he has a cat backpack) pile into Dani's old little 2008 Volkswagen (golf?). on the way down, Dani and Ione learn that Kyana's never been to an amusement park. There's a big one in the city that Roy and Egan live in, and so the five of them (plus Roy's fwb, Cressida) spend a day at the amusement park. Kyana turns out to be a total adrenaline junkie and goes on all the huge rides with Dani. They convince Ione to go on the biggest rollercoaster with them. She's scared out of her mind the whole time but Kyana is happy so it's worth it, Ione thinks. when they get back to Roy and Egan's place, Plug is smugly napping in a pile of upturned potted plants.

- [SOMEHOW, THEY RETURN HOME.]

- Dani's been helping Kyana with her homework whenever she can. Kyana has to take a statistics class and Dani is like "fuck yeah, math, something i actually understand!" Because of this, Kyana managed to do pretty well on her midterms. Kyana mentions she's considering declaring a kinesiology minor. Dani's straight up like "why just a minor? don't you like it way more than business or whatever-the-fuck? you can still change your major, yeah?" Kyana's like "huh, i think i can? i don't know yet though. Business is more... there's more job opportunities, i guess?" Dani says Kyana could keep business as a minor then, since she's probably already got like half the required courses for it. Kyana thinks about it.

- Kyana is walking to her one evening class from the animal shelter. Her and Ione were helping out with a vaccination clinic the shelter was holding. she couldn't help with the vaccinations, obviously, but she helped with, like, client intake and stuff. Ione was really good with the nervous animals. anyways, before class she stops in to see the kinesiology department head, Dr. Enoch. She wants to know what switching majors would be like. Enoch notes that her grades are pretty lackluster and that she'd probably need to bring her grades up a bit before the administration would let her declare a new major. Enoch offers his help, pointing Kyana to resources around campus, etc. He asks about what Kyana feels like she struggles with the most, and when she explains, he's like "oooohhh, okokok i've heard that one before. go to the uni's medical centre, tell them exactly what you told me, and say that your advisor(s) have recommended you get an educational psych assessment focusing on adhd. your uni health insurance plus provincial student funding should cover any costs. alright?"

- Kyana's working part-time (25ish hours a week) over the summer at a local café (Wild Springs Café & Bistro) to save for when her funding cuts off. Her bosses are Finbar and Elyse, who were Dani's neighbors growing up. Dani frequently stops at the café for coffee runs for her work, even though it's a 10 minute drive. She says that it's cause the coffee's better here than any Tim's or McD's and also the longer drive gives her more of a break, but really it's mostly because she likes annoying Finbar. Kyana learns the absolutely wild lore behind Finbar and Elyse's relationship. Ione picks Kyana up after her shift and confesses her romantic feelings. Kyana has a hard time reacting and tries her best to turn Ione down ("you're my best friend, and i love you. i love you so much. but—i don't really think i love you in the same way you love me? i don't think i can love anybody that way. i... never have. i can't really imagine it, if that makes sense? i'm sorry.") Ione cries, Kyana offers a hug, Ione refuses and says goodnight.

- Kyana is leaving the doctor's office, adhd diagnosis in hand (figuratively speaking). [NOTE THAT THE DIAGNOSTIC CLINIC HAD TO CONTACT DR. SEPHRUM SINCE SHE'S THE ONLY PERSON WHO KNEW KYANA AS A CHILD. DR. SEPHRUM WAS NOT EXACTLY THRILLED.] She's in a mix of shock and relief and happiness and when she gets home she collapses on the floor to pet Plug. Dani asks how it went and when Kyana tells her, Dani fist bumps her like "hell yeah, brain buddies!" this is how Kyana learns that Dani is autistic. Kyana has barely heard from Ione in a month and a half, now, (Ione's even been volunteering at the shelter on opposite weekends from Kyana) and asks if Dani knows what she's up to. Dani says she doesn't, but she'll reach out. Meanwhile, Kyana needs to contact her school's accessibility office in order to get the accomodations she needs, which is a whole other hurdle. She wishes she had Ione to support her.

- Dani contacts Ione. As soon as she brings up Kyana, Ione gets very weird about it. She tries to change the subject and is generally very cagey. Dani gives up and tells Kyana about it. Dani asks about what even happened between the two of them. Kyana explains and is generally very distraught, says she thinks it's her fault but she doesn't know what else she could've done. Dani is very matter-of-fact and is like "you did exactly what you thought was best and let her down easy, the rest of this is Ione's shit to figure out". Kyana sees her point but doesn't feel much better.

- Kyana and Ione start their second year of uni. Kyana's grades go up significantly and she is able to switch majors. she keeps business as a minor because she basically already has all the credits she needs for it. However, this means that Kyana and Ione don't have nearly as many classes together. In their one business class together, Ione acts very standoffish and avoids Kyana. Until one day, they end up in a group/partner project together (Kyana was away sick the day it was assigned, and Ione hadn't found a group, so they end up having to partner up) for their final assignment in that class. Incidentally, Ione's been performing very well in her wrestling matches, but she looks run ragged and frequently complains about being really sore.

- After a very awkward evening of working on the assignment together at the school library, Ione needs to get home. However, it's completely dark out and Kyana knows she's not keen on walking home alone when it's dark out. Also Ione generally looks like shit and Kyana wants to try and do something nice for her. So Kyana asks if Ione wants her to walk her home, and Ione's like "I... yeah. I'd appreciate that." At the end of the walk, before Ione goes inside, Kyana says something along the lines of "You know I don't resent you or anything, right? I still wanna be friends. I really, really want to." Ione is like "not right now you don't. i'm sure. not until i stop... wanting you. you can pretend it doesn't make things weird but i know it does." Kyana tries to impress upon the fact that it really doesn't but Ione doesn't really believe her. they agree on a time and date to finish the assignment and then say bye.

and uhhhhhh that's the last beat i'd written down. which is not the best place to leave off, huh. but!! i also wrote down what i called "the killscreen/end conditions" for the story, which are as follows:

- Kyana and Ione in QPR, Dani is their best friend (if Ione was a middle aged man she'd call Dani "wife #2")

- Kyana has her kinesiology degree and becomes a certified physiotherapy assistant

- Ione drops out of university and goes to college to get her veterinary technician diploma

- Dani starts her own appliance repair business (?)

OUAUGH i forgot how much i like this AU... i really wanna actually figure out how it ends one of these days,,

hello I have recently been made aware that a bad situation I am in is much worse than I thought, and I really could use some fluffy (or honestly angsty too) rwd thoughts or headcanons

[stay-mon-army]

A Little Bit of Chemistry

Warning(s): embarrassment, self-consciousness

Word Count: 2,417 words

Pairing: Gaon x Gender Neutral!Reader

It wasn’t that you were bad at chemistry. You wanted to get that clear right off the bat. You were fine at chemistry; it was just that this professor was an absolute asshole. All he did was complain that his students kept failing his exams, but he wasn’t ever teaching you what to do. You would go to class, you would take notes, you would study said notes, and somehow you always failed his quizzes because none of the content was anywhere in your notes.

You hated to admit defeat and go to a tutor. You weren’t stupid, you were just a victim of bad teaching. But finally, you realized that if you didn’t get someone else’s input (preferably from someone who had passed the class), you were going to have to take the class again, and you just couldn’t do that. You refused to sit through another semester of this professors horrible test-making.

You had asked the professor if he could recommend you a past student who might be willing to help you with studying and he had been quick to mention a boy named Jiseok who had passed the class next semester. He gave you his school email address and seemed very excited that a student was working towards passing his course. Whatever, he was the one who made everyone fail anyway.

You had emailed him last week and he had quickly agreed to help you study for the chemistry class. Apparently he was a chem major and was always excited to talk about his passion and help others understand the arguably difficult topic. You agreed on a time and place to meet up to begin working.

Before you know it, it’s the day you are meeting with this mystery boy at the library. You grab your chem stuff and begin the trek up to the large building. You wait in the entryway for a moment, realizing you didn’t ask where in the building you were going to meet. He had said he would book out a study room for you both to have a bit of privacy, but you don’t know which one he had booked.

As you stand there, looking around for the boy that you’ve never seen before, you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn around to come face-to-face with a smiling boy with shoulder-length black hair, his eyes crinkled up with his grin.

“You must be (Y/N), right? I’m Jiseok!” His voice is lilting and upbeat, exactly as you would have expected based off his happy demeanor. He looks like a happy puppy, excited and bouncing with energy. “I got us a study room so we can go work on your studying!” He points towards the back of the library, where the study rooms and computers are located.

He begins to walk in that direction, smiling back over his shoulder as he checks that you’re following along with his stride. You quickly start after him, taking long strides to catch up with him so you weren’t following at some uncomfortable distance. As you reach the study room, Jiseok pulls out a key and unlocks the door, stepping inside to hold it open for you. Inside is a small table with three chairs around it. On one wall is a whiteboard with markers and an eraser so that students can work together.

You slip past him through the doorway, thanking him as you set your stuff down onto one of the chairs. He closes the door and plops himself down onto the edge of the table, crossing his leg under the other that’s dangling over the edge.

“So, what exactly are you learning right now?”

You spent the whole two hour session letting him know where you are content-wise in the class. You tell him your problems so far and how everyone seems to be struggling but that you think the professor doesn’t want to change anything even though he’s obviously the reason you’re failing. You let him know what you know and that in every previous test had nothing gone over in class. At this, Jiseok laughs.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Donaghue is horrible at making tests that actually meet with what he’s teaching. That happened with my class too. Since your class is still on the periodic table stuff, your next test will likely be on atomic structure. He somehow always assumes that students make that next jump on their own, and they never do.” He quickly pulls out papers and his laptop, flipping it open quickly and typing hectically on the keyboard right away.

You sit and stare at the boy before you, blinking for a moment before you chuckle softly to yourself.

He doesn’t pause his typing, but he looks up at you with a small smile. “What?”

“You’re kinda amazing.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You just remember all of this and know exactly how to help. What are the chances I found the only person who could manage to help me ace this class with just a simple question to Mr Donaghue?”

Jiseok smiles even wider, his eyes sparkling at you obvious content at him as a tutor already.

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” He grins, ducking his head back behind his laptop as he keeps searching. Finally, he turns his screen around so that you can see it as he shows you some sort of powerpoint presentation. “So, I’ll go over some of the basics, and then I have some worksheets and problems to see how much more detail I need to give you.”

~~~

You ended up loving to spend time with Jiseok. You liked chemistry before, but the way he taught it made it feel so much more fun. He always made jokes to help some content stick, or he would create problems that had impossible situations or ideas hidden within them. He smiled every time he saw you and always wished you an amazing day when you two went your separate ways after a study session. You could almost call him a friend; you never hung out outside of your study sessions, but you looked forward to your study sessions, and part of you was interested in interacting with him in a more relaxed and fun environment.

So, one day, you decided to invite him to hang out with your friends. You were throwing a small party, which was just a couple people having food and watching stupid movies, but you thought he might be interested. He was always laughing and making jokes with you, and he hadn’t been shy when you first met each other. You were hoping he would respond positively, even if he might be a little unsure at first.

What you weren’t expecting was to watch his face drop. He had been smiling, ready to start talking about the newest topic after you passed your last exam, when you’d interrupted to extend the offer. His smile slid from his face, almost comically, and his eyes visually shuttered. He paused for a moment, his mouth hanging open, before he snapped back to a smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to study for an exam the next day, so I’ll be busy. Maybe next time though!” He grins at you, throwing in a sheepish shrug when you really look at him for a second.

You try not to think too much of it and you smile back, although your eyebrows stay furrowed as you look down at your notebook as you flip to a blank page to prepare to take notes on what he teaches you today.

It doesn’t hit you until you get back to your dorm that you hadn’t gotten to tell him the date of the party, so he didn’t even know when you were inviting him over.

~~~

The next time you began to raise your eyebrows at Jiseok’s behavior was when you managed to run into him on campus. Before that, you hadn’t seen him anywhere on campus; you almost thought that he wasn’t really a student. You were always on campus with friends, doing work, or just getting some exercise, and you had never seen him anywhere. However, the day before a major test, you were walking around campus to destress from studying on your own in your dorm and you saw Jiseok sitting with a few people you assume are his friends.

At first, you weren’t going to approach, because you thought he might want to spend time with his friends and you didn’t want to bother him. But then you remembered that you wanted to get to know him, and you thought that this would be a nice way to break the ice between you two and your study-only relationship. So you took a breath to calm yourself and you stepped up to their table, smiling down at Jiseok.

“Hey, Jiseok! How are you?” You try to sound chipper and surprised to see him. His head whips around to look at you, mouth opening and closing for a second as his eyes nearly bulge from his head.

“Um, hey.” He says, turning and looking at his friends quickly, obviously awkward about the situation. You stand there for a moment, looking at his friends. One is looking at him with a look of disapproval, another is chuckling behind his hand, while the last is looking at you, pityingly and kind.

You stand for what feels like an eternity with Jiseok not looking at you. Finally you clear your throat, mumbling a “goodbye”, and rushing off, holding your notebooks closer to your chest as you turn away.

You can’t believe you made such a fool of yourself. You wanted to be mad at Jiseok for treating you like he had never seen you before. You wanted to scream and cry about how he let you flounder there in front of his friends when all you did was say hello. You wanted to be so angry about his dismissal of you like he didn’t want to recognize that he knew you when you so obviously knew him. But instead of all that, you hated yourself for thinking that it was a good idea to approach him. That he would accept your random friendship when you were just some stupid student who needed help with chemistry. You weren’t friends. You didn’t really know each other. You felt absolutely idiotic for thinking that this was a good idea. You never wanted to show your face on campus ever again. You never wanted to see Jiseok again.

But you had a study session with him tomorrow.

~~~

You almost cancelled your session. You almost texted him and told him not to worry about meeting. That you would just figure out the last two months of class on your own. That you weren’t worried anymore and that he had helped plenty, thank you, you were finally a chemistry master.

But you knew that wasn’t going to help anything. While you were tired just thinking about having to interact with Jiseok after that super awkward interaction with his friends, you needed his help. Another quiz was coming up in a couple weeks and you needed to practice what only he knew was on it.

You arrived just on time to your session, in the same room as you always meet in. Jiseok was sitting in the room already, his laptop and notebook open before him, texting vigorously on his phone. As you open the door, he quickly locks his phone and places it face down on the table. He looks up to you with a wide smile on his face.

“Hey, (Y/N)! How have you been?” He’s got that giant smile on his face that always makes you feel like the coolest person in the world— like you had done something amazing by just existing.

And that smile alone destroyed your mental fortitude.

You drop your backpack onto the table and cross your arms. How dare he. Acting like he didn’t complete embarrass you in front of his friends yesterday, like it wasn’t the worst possible option from the interaction, like he didn’t act like he didn’t know you when you were out in public. You hadn’t done anything to him, so you needed to know why he felt the need to treat you the way he did.

“Why did you treat me like that?” You ask, voice coming out much smaller than you meant it. His smile falls from his face, his eyes wide, mouth agape.

He gulps and blinks at you. “What?”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with your stupid little tutor case? Is that what happened? All I did was say hello. Do you not want to be seen with me? Huh?” He stares at you as your voice rises, you can feel your face getting hot, but you don’t care. You need to get this off your chest. You need to know. He doesn’t respond and you repeat yourself. “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

You finally stop, breathing heavily as you feel the emotions boiling in your blood. When Jiseok doesn’t respond at first, you groan loudly, spinning to face away from him and dragging your hands over your face. You hear him shift, but you don’t look at him. You can’t, because if he keeps looking at you with those sad, scared eyes, you might just combust into anger again, and you want to compose yourself again.

“I’m not embarrassed by you. I was embarrassed- I am embarrassed about how I feel when we are together, and I- I was afraid...” His voice is quiet, gentle, soft, you almost don’t hear him. You pause, back straightening at the response you weren’t expecting.

“A-about... how you feel?” You whisper back, staring at the wall before you, afraid to turn around and scare him off. Maybe, if you don’t look at him, he might continue to confess to you, explain what happened.

“I’m afraid others will know. That they’ll figure it out because I’m not sure if I’m ready to do anything about it. I like how our little tutor sessions are. I’m not ready to change anything about that yet. Because, I’m such a coward, and I’m afraid.” He sounds choked off and you turn quickly, throwing caution to the wind.

His eyes are staring at his hands in his lap, like he knew you were looking at him and he couldn’t meet your eyes. His hands wrung in his lap, his body shaking lightly like he was afraid of something. Afraid of you learning this about him.

“What do you feel, Jiseok?” You don’t know why your voice won’t get louder than a whisper, like you were afraid that he would run away or shut down if you spoke too loud.

He raises his eyes to yours, shining and wide like a sad puppy. He blinks, takes a deep breath, exhales, and opens his mouth. “I think I like you.”

You blink back, having had a suspicion that was where he was going, but not totally expecting him to say it. “I-”

“We can pretend I didn’t say anything. Like I said, I don’t think I’m ready for anything to change. But I don’t want you thinking I don’t like you or that- that I’m embarrassed about knowing you.” He’s looking back at his hands, twisting them tightly around each other like the pressure will take away the embarrassment you know he feels.

“Let’s meet for dinner later.” You say, standing still and holding your breath.

“What?” His head snaps to you, eyes shining now with something new, something deeper.

“Let’s meet for dinner tonight. We have our study session right now, like normal. And then later, we get dinner together. It can be at the cafe or the dining hall or wherever you want. We hang out as friends. We get to know each other. We see how things go.” You sit down on the seat across from Jiseok, feeling tense and self-conscious. You don’t really know what’s come over you, but you know that this is what you want.

Weren’t you feeling bad because he didn’t seem to want to be around you? Didn’t you invite him out because you wanted to spend time with him outside of the tutoring session? You didn’t know if you liked him, but you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better to figure it out.

His eyes flicker across your face, looking for something. He must decide he likes whatever he sees, because his mouth splits into a wide smile.

“We see how things go.” He says, holding out his hand. You smile back and shake his hand.

You were excited to see how things go.

[miekasa]

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it. 

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby. 

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad. 

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on. 

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying. 

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside. 

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place. 

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone). 

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way. 

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for. 

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch. 

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés. 

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this. 

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it. 

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well. 

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program. 

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do. 

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk. 

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes. 

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to. 

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye). 

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester. 

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other. 

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand. 

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right. 

[fictionaltimer]

“Sweetness, do you like the dark?”

Pairing: Larissa Weems/Alicina Dimitrescu(Main), Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, one sided (Gomez/Larissa) and Alcina Dimitrescu/Original Female Character(s).

Summary: On a late-night walk back to her dorm Larissa runs into a new student.

Warnings: explicit language and explicit sexual content.

A/N:

So, I wrote this on a whim, it’s complete and edited as far as I’ll be taking it. I enjoyed pumping out this little peace, this little universe is fun and flexible with the right provisions. So, for context, Alcina is a transfer junior into the school and Larissa is a sophomore because that works for some reason. Nothing too crazy happens here, at least not until the end. I’m working on merging these worlds in a way I like; this one has brief nods to the 80s.

*Aubrey is 18.

I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave me a little note if you do. Thanks.

It was just the start of the semester and Morticia was going to drive her mad.

“I just need a few hours Rissa,” the witch said, “It’s just for a few hours and then you can come back.”

Two months into their sophomore year Larissa realized she was going to hate living with the witch now.

Morticia’s growing relationship with some boy was making her ask for space in their shared room. Larissa did not mind, even if Morticia refused to tell her who it was. She had grown used to the girl asking her to leave and come back later, but it was growing annoying.

Larissa sighs, “This is the second time this week,” she looks over her advanced studies history class homework, “I mean what do I get?”

Morticia sucks her teeth, “What could you want?”

“I don’t know, but maybe I’ll figure it out and somewhere to be if you agree,” Larissa smirks at Morticia, "My terms.”

Morticia walks over and shakes her hand, “I agree, you nasty shapeshifter.”

Larissa laughs, “Whatever witch, give me ten minutes.”

“Hurry up and get out.”

She dressed fast, she’d still in her uniform, this week’s version was a pleaded tennis skirt and a purple sweater over her polo shirt. She puts on her shoes and grabs her books.

“Remember to stay off my side,” Larissa says, “My things should remain untouched.”

The witch rolls her eyes, “Your love of old things does it for him. I’ll make sure nothing is touched.”

Larissa nods, “Fine. Remember to actually study for Chemistry.”

Morticia shakes her head, “Yes.”

She looks at the witch, “When are you gonna tell me who the lucky animal is?” Something shines in the witch's face and Larissa catches it, “Your really not going to tell me?”

“Soon.”

“You said that last time,” Larissa says, “He must be ugly.”

Morticia laughs and something about it is sad, but Larissa smirks,

“See, witch, I know you. Remember what I said.”

The girl nodded, “I will. Make sure you come back after 12:30, please.”

Larissa rolls her eyes, “You owe me big time.”

**

The Nevermore library was huge, open most hours and she could get all her work done in peace. Or, she could wait for the time to return to her dorm.

Tonight, was one of those nights.

At 12:47 am, she yawned and decided that her bed would be better than a chair and she wanted some sleep. She’d finished all her homework for the week. She finished a paper she knew Morticia would ask for help on later. Plus, she studied for two tests this upcoming Friday.

She’d given Morticia enough time with their room.

So, after packing up and ensuring everything was organized, she grabbed her Walkman and set to go back to her dorm.

 The campus was nice, and she loved how Nevermore looked, but the nighttime always made her a little afraid. She thought about shifting into someone else but shifting into people on campus wasn’t allowed and was considered rude. So she hummed, New Kids on the Block as she speed-walked. The path to the dorms was long and mostly dark. She’d thought in two years she’d be over it or take the short path, but no the long way it was to give Morticia time.

When she turned toward her dorm, she remembers the last long dark path that leads to her building. As she walks it, she hears a howl that makes her stop in her tracks.

Fuck that, the wolves had free roam some nights, she didn’t think it was tonight.

She quickly turns around and walks toward the other way, not looking and walking right into something.

She’s on the ground fast, her uniform probably a mess and her books spilled from her bag. The ground is cold and annoying under her hands and butt. A scratch is on her knee and it stings.

“Holy hell,” she hisses.

“Oh my, let’s get you up sweetness.”

She looks up and the tallest girl she’d ever seen is offering her an alabaster hand with long black nails. That was what she ran into. The girl leans down, even more, hand close.

“I don’t bite, at least not without permission,” the voice says.

Her eyes meet golden ones and Larissa is taken back, she’s flushed, and when she takes her hand it’s soft but ice cold.

“There we go little one,” the hand helps her up, easily pulling her to her feet. She’s lifted gently and her back is picked up as well. Her books are held in the girl’s hands as golden eyes trace over her body, “You have a scrap little one.”

“I'm 5’10,” Larissa says, “I'm far from little.”

“You're little to me,” the girl says.

On two feet the girl towers over her, she’s easily over 6 feet, much closer to 7ft.

Larissa blushes, “I’m sorry, I,” but she’s taken back when the girl leans in close and smells her just slightly, “Oh, excuse me.”

“You smell lovely,” the taller girl hands her back her books, “I transferred in this year.”

Larissa smiles, “Oh, wow I hope you're enjoying it. I love-“

Howling broke the air again, sounding closer than before, Larissa wasn’t worried about being bit but she was afraid.

“You don’t like the wolves? Me either.”

Expect she can tell this girl isn’t afraid of them.

“They’re allowed to run free as long as no one gets hurt,” but she nods, “Yes, I normally avoid this part of campus during their free time,” Larissa says, “What year are you?”

“A junior,” Golden eyes shine, “A friend of mine is out with the wolves. I can tell you feel a little afraid. Would you like me to walk you to your dorm?”

The blonde bites her lip, she doesn’t want to look afraid, she’s not in danger.

Another howl sounded out, followed by several others that sound closer and closer. But she doesn’t know this girl, whose face she can barely see, but her eyes glow golden. She needs to be smart.

Larissa shakes her head, “No...no...but thank you so much. I need to take care of my leg.”

Golden eyes blink softly, “It's fine. How about I help you out?”

Her brow raises a little, “How?”

The tall girl takes a few steps down the dark path and a little light shine over her giving Larissa a look at her. She’s stunning, with full lips and long dark hair. Those eyes shine brightly when she smiles at Larissa before turning towards the woods like she’s about to speak, but she shouts.

“Karl, keep your dogs away from this one!”

Larissa looks at her before something like a howl is heard and then shouts, “Fine! But go away!”

The tall girl gestures to the path, “All clear for you.”

Larissa nods and quickly walks towards her, “Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay you.”

The tall girl leans near her again and smells her, “Don’t you worry your pretty little face.”

Larissa blushes, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the girl pats the tops of Larissa’s head a little, “Now go before something else gets you.”

Larissa nods and quickly walks, turning back and waving, “Thank you.”

The girl waves her off and when she looks back again the tall girl is gone. Howl’s break out across the campus and she all but runs to her dorm building door, opens it, and goes inside.

She rushes up to her room and when she gets there Morticia isn’t there. But the scent of a familiar boy lingers in the room. She knows whom the girl is seeing, she just wants her to say who.

“Fuck, I didn’t ask her name.”

That is all she says about the girl, realizing she barely had a face to remember, but she’d remember that voice and those eyes.

**

She wakes up before Morticia and shakes the witch awake before taking the bathroom first.

“If you're going to wash that skinny ass before mine, don’t wake me up.”

Larissa pops her head out of the bathroom, “You should’ve been up ten minutes ago for morning fencing practice.”

“Fuck!” she watches the witch scramble but helps.

“Just grab the black bag, I packed your stuff,” Larissa says.

She’d packed Morticia’s bag earlier and set aside fruit for her. When the girl noticed she smiles.

“My little redwood,” Morticia says, “Best roommate ever.”

Then she’s grabbing the bag and left Larissa with their room.

Her mind keeps thinking of last night and how the hell she’s going to find that girl. She was sure she was a vampire, but she doesn’t know what kind. She’d never seen her around campus before this time. So, she wasn’t sure where the girl liked hanging out. She just wanted to know her name.

**

A week later, Larissa was sitting in her dorm in the dark while Morticia by candlelight read from a journal.

“Her name is Alcina Dimitrescu and she’s a new student.”

Larissa nods a little, “Alcina…Alcina…Alcina.”

Morticia shakes her head, “She’s a vampire and a hot one,” Morticia raises an eyebrow, “Prefers a love meal of only girls.”

Larissa hums, “Anything else witch?”

“She definitely gets around. She's dated three girls since the semester started.”

“Are you telling me to be careful?”

Morticia laughs, “No, your single let her break your pretty little heart.”

Larissa rolls her eyes, “I don’t want her.”

“Did you feel the draw in?” Morticia said looking at her, “So my gossip said the girls feel this draw to her and end up dating her or letting her bite them,” the witch wiggled her eyebrows, “Sounds hot.”

Larissa shakes her head, “Horny, that’s all you ever are.”

Morticia laughs, “Please, you’re horny for this chick.”

“I am not,” Larissa says, “I just want to know about her.”

Morticia shrugs, “I don’t have a hangout for her. Apparently, she hangs with some people who all transferred at the same time as her.”

Larissa nodded, “So…”

Morticia laughs, “You’re her type.”

Larissa looks at her, “How do you know?”

“Well, one of the girls on the team told me, that she knows the last girl Alcina dated and she’s a blonde. Plus, she’s tall-ish.”

Larissa sighs, “Thank you very much. I just want to thank her.”

“So no more finding information on her?”

Larissa sucked her teeth and turned over in bed, “I didn’t say that.”

Morticia shakes, “Theirs a lot you didn’t say, but I know to keep digging.”

**

 A few days go by, and she hadn’t seen any signs of the girl. Morticia’s gossip runs dry after about a week and she’s left to find information on her own.

On a Friday night, she goes to the library late, studies, and does her homework. She wears a cute skirt with her uniform and hopes she runs into the girl

She’s nervous with energy, but she wants to see those golden eyes again.  So, she leaves the library, and tonight there is no howling just the dark paths back to her building.

She hovers near the edge of the darkness and right when she’s about to just run, she hears a voice.

“Sweetness, do you like the dark?”

Relief washes over her and she turns to see Alcina again, this time with no hat and she can see her face. She’s stunning. Her hair is pulled back in pins, off the neck, almost old school. Her uniform was pressed and clean. This time she was sporting a white skirt, her Nevermore blazer gone, and with it a white polo with the school's logo.

“I wanted to thank you,” Says walking up to the girl, “And um ask your name.”

She’d avoided saying the girl’s name, she didn’t want her to think she was some creep. It gave her at least a reason to look for her.  

“So, you came looking for me in the dark?” The girl says, “Bold.”

Larissa fights a blush, “I’m Larissa Weems.”

The taller girl is right in front of her and holds out the same hand she used to help her up. The first touch is icy cold and then just cool, “Alcina Dimitrescu, very nice to meet you.”

“Alcina,” she repeats back and realizes she did it out loud, “That’s pretty.”

“Thank you, Larissa,” Alcina says, “So what are doing looking for me?”

Hearing the girl say her name creates a warmth inside her, “I looked for you around campus and couldn’t find a trace of you.”

The girl laughs, the sound low, “I take the night classes and I keep a low profile.”

Larissa nodded, “Do you normally like to hang out at night?”

“Yes and no,” the girl laughs, “I’m waiting to feed.”

“Oh…oh shit,” she stammers, “I don’t mean to slow you down. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she smiles, “I like seeing you around.”

Larissa smiles, “Oh.”

The girl’s eyes trail over her from head to toe, lingering around her legs and then her neck, “That’s pretty.”

“My neck?” the words leave her fast and she’s reminded of what Morticia says about her wit.

 Alcina is laughing a deep rich sound like liquid honey, that makes her bite her lip, “Oh goodness yes, but I meant your skirt.”

The blonde is bright red, “I swear, I wasn’t-“

“Flirting, all the girls use that one,” Alcina says, “Be more honest than that, Larissa. It's mature.”

She feels bold for a moment, “I wanted to know if we could talk outside of meeting out here?”

The girl's face shifts just slightly as she steps closer, she can tell the woman can smell her scent. The woman is smiling, “Your heart is beating so hard and fast.”

Larissa sighs and an anxious laugh escapes her, “I’m not used to my emotions being read from my body.”

Alcina nods, “Its fine Larissa. How about this? I usually go to the art studios in the early night around 8 or 9. Feel free to come by. Let me draw that pretty face.”

Larissa is fighting blushing, “Thank you.”

The girl nods, “Your welcome darling, but I mean it. Maybe tomorrow night?”

Larissa takes inventory of her schedule, running it over in her head, thinking of what could go right and wrong.

Alcina smiles, “Look, how about I walk you to your dorm? You can think about it. I’ll be there tomorrow no matter what.”

“I was going to enjoy my roommate being gone for the weekend, be it I think I can stop by,” Larissa says. She’s nervous, she remembers what Morticia says.

“Please feel free.”

“We can walk and talk so you don’t miss your meal.”

The girl looked at her and turned her head just the slightest, “You are a polite little thing, but don’t worry they can wait while I walk you to your dorm.”

Larissa smiles when the girl gestures for her to follow her in the dark but walks slowly next to her. She’d never been afraid of anyone or anything at the school, Larissa’s fear of the dark was from life in general, she wasn’t the biggest fan of when she couldn’t see. So, she avoided it, but in this situation, because this mysterious girl was walking around campus with her it wasn’t that bad.

In the pale light, Alcina glows, almost ghostly pale in her white uniform. Her eyes glow and Larissa makes sure to avoid looking into them.

“So, Larissa, how do you enjoy Nevermore?”

Larissa smiles, “I mean besides the occasional fight with my roommate,” she rolls her eyes at Morticia, “She’s a witch. It’s been good.”

“So I should expect a flourishing love and social life?”

Larissa sighs, “Ummm…well last semester a boy I liked to let me know he didn’t like me,” she hums, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have what I can’t.”

She leaves out knowing about the girls she’s dated and some just made out with.

“How unlucky for him and lucky for me,” Alcina says, “Rejection can be hard, but you're adorable. I’m sure you will be asked out in no time.”

Her mouth is dry and her voice hitches for a moment, “You are a dangerous flirt.”

And then they were at the steps to her dorm. Alcina was smiling, “You make it-.”

And then a stunning girl comes out of the building. Her hair is almost a fire-red color, but her eyes glow blue. She’s probably a siren. The girl beams at Alcina.

“Hey, sorry I’m running late,” then she notices Larissa, “Who is this?”

Alcina doesn’t seem to miss a beat and turns to the other girl, “That’s my friend Larissa, she needed to be walked over here.” Then she’s standing right next to the girl, she looks tiny and Alcina looms over her, “You’re late for my meal.”

The girl’s bright green eyes go wide, “I wanted to make sure I looked great.”

Alcina is quiet, she looks at the girl hard before her eyes shift to Larissa, “Come on Larissa.”

Larissa walks past the girl who squints at her but doesn’t say anything. She climbs the steps with ease and goes into the door where Alcina follows her standing right in front of Larissa. In this space she can smell her perfume, it’s mature in a way she’s smelled with other vampires but unique.

“So I’ll be at the art rooms tomorrow night, come and model for me.”

Larissa thinks of the redhead waiting, “I don’t think your companion would like that.”

Alcina hums, “Hannah is my meal and she’s no decision-maker for me.”

Larissa watches the vampire lick her lips and caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. Her gut clenched in warmth and she worries her lip a little, ruining her lipstick, “I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“You aren’t,” Alcina says, “Tomorrow.”

Then she walks to the door and Larissa shakes her head, “You know I didn’t say yes.”

The vampire smirks, “Yet you didn’t say no. No one tells me no.”

She watches the vampire leave and she can hear the other girl as soon as Alcina comes out the door. She leans against it to hear better, the wood cold on her ear.

“Who is that?”

As they step away she can faintly hear the vampire.

“My friend,” Alcina’s voice is a purr, “Come pet, I’m hungry.”

Larissa pulls away from the door and makes her way to her dorm fast.

 She arrives to a note from Morticia saying she’d be away for a fencing tournament, which she already knew because she packed her bag for her. She’d given the girl a homework schedule and notes for their shared classes which the witch thanked her for.

On her bed was a set of small potion bottles, some she knew the witch made others she got from her mom for Larissa. A note saying the noise ward was up and that she was free to blast music made her smile.

With Morticia gone she didn’t have anyone she trusted to talk about this with, sure she had a few friends she liked, but she hadn’t told a soul besides Morticia she liked girls. The witch had been annoyingly accepting of her and even pushed her. She knew the witch would tell her to go, she’d say throw caution to the wind and invite her over. She’d have to act or she knows the witch will be disappointed.

Plus, she has to admit she’s excited, something in her wants the taller girl. Something is drawing her in and she wants to explore it.

**

In the deep edge of the woods, Alcina Dimitrescu is regretting wearing white to dinner, but Aubrey is a tasty meal.

The girl’s hands stroke along her neck and into her hair, while Alcina sucks slowly at her neck, making sure not to waste a drop or get it on herself. Her hands slide under the girl’s skirt and when the redhead leans her head father back Alcina growls into the bite, sucking harder.

She lets her hand wander right up the girl’s skirt and she when meets wetness she groans. Her fingers slide into the girl and Alcina bites hard, sucking until she feels the girl shake under. Fingers pull at her hair and Alcina pulls back, “Yes, love.”

Aubrey groans, her voice a little weak, “I need a little break. I’m lightheaded.”

Alcina nods and lets the girl down. She licks her wound and pulls out a little first aid kit. Her partner is still as she cleans the bite and puts a band-aid over it.

“You should get rest some,” Alcina says licking her lips, “We can meet again next week.”

The girl’s blood was tasty, a smooth bold flavor that came with sea species humans. Aubrey tasted like a shrimp pasta she had in Italy once, but it left her wanting more.

“Are still hungry?” the girl asks.

She’s always starving in a sense and has a yearning that drives her to drink and often. She was never full lately.

“Yes, I’m full,” she wasn’t even close, and it wasn’t Aubrey’s fault, “Let’s go to the greenhouse.”

She could hear the girl’s excitement, “Of course lover, let’s go.”

The girl takes her hand and Alcina follows her, thinking of the blonde that she’d been watching all week. The girl whose blood she thought about all day now and how she was going drink deeply from her.

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[melancholyshadow]

Hi im not sure if your request are open but can i request something where andy is dating a woman who is around jacob's age (22 or something). What would Jacob's reaction be like?

It's totally okay if not!! Love your work❤

an adjustment || a. barber

summary: you and andy have quite the age gap, and you aren't entirely sure if jacob is cool with that.

word count: 1325

warning: age gap between reader and andy (reader is in her twenties and andy is in his forties)

an: my first request woohoo! enjoy! i hope this is okay anon! not edited.

“He’s going to hate me.”

You huffed, collapsing onto the couch with your face buried into one of the pillows. The cushion beside you dipped, and a hand landed on your back and started rubbing it in small circles. “He’s not going to hate you, it’s impossible to hate you.” Andy encouraged, with a soft pat on your back. Peeking up at him from the pillow, he smiled.

“I would absolutely hate it if my dad started dating someone my age, in fact, I would think it was gross.” Finally you sat up, hands in your lap and head hanging low. One of Andy’s fingers tucked itself under your chin, forcing your head upward, eyes connecting immediately. “I raised him well. He’ll understand it’ll just take some adjustment, but I assure you everything will be fine.” You wanted to believe him, but that was easier said than done. But you put yourself in Jacob’s shoes, and you wouldn’t have liked this situation one bit.

Jacob was freshly eighteen, a freshman in college, he actually attended the same university you did. You were actually only four years older than him, which in the grand scheme of time was miniscule. Not only was your age an issue, but you were already sure Jacob resented you because of the divorce. While you had no part in the divorce situation, you actually met Andy a year after it had been finalized, you never wanted Jacob to think you were trying to replace his mother.

Andy and you met a semester into your first year at law school, he was one of your professors. And that was about a year ago now, you were well into your second year now. The feelings were clearly there from day one, but Andy refused to make a move on you until you had left his class. It made him feel better, since at that point you were no longer one of his students. The two of you had your first date about three months ago, and had been keeping it a secret from anybody and everybody, and this included Jacob.

You had met Jacob before, briefly, when he would come visit his dad on occasion for lunch, but nothing more than a simple ‘hello,’ and you hadn’t seen him since the two of you started dating. As your mind flooded with all the negative possibilities that could happen over the next two hours, you were pulled from your thoughts by a loud ringing noise. It was the doorbell.

A look of dread filled your face, and it was hard for Andy not to notice. As one last peptalk, he cupped your cheeks in his calloused hands, forcing your face closer to his. “Everything is going to be just fine.” Insisting one last time, and punctuating it with a kiss on your lips. His hands fell, and you stood from the sofa, patting and straightening out your dress.

As Andy pulled the door open, you watched his face light up at the site of his son. You knew how much Andy cared for his son, and the immense amount of love he had towards him. It made you desire to have kids with him only to grow, but that was a conversation for another day, you already had enough on your plate. “Hey, bud.” He pulled Jacob in for a hug, before motioning for him to come into his home. Jacob’s eyes landed on you as soon as he stepped past the threshold and into the foyer.

“Hello Jacob I’m (Y/F/N), it’s nice to meet you.” You outstretched your hand, and plastered the biggest smile you could conjure onto your face. “Hey.” He said flatly, shaking your hand limply. Which was an instant shot to your heart. He already hated you and you hadn’t even made it past the introductions. Andy ushered the two of you into the kitchen, and the smell of your cooking filled the room.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.” Jacob said, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. A compliment, wow. “Well thanks, I appreciate it.” You smiled. Andy and his son talked back and forth for a while at the bar, and you happily sat and listened to them. “Are you in school?” Jacob asked you, out of nowhere. “I am, I’m in law school, actually.” You confessed, instantly starting to pick at the skin around your fingernails.

“That’s how you two met, I’m assuming. I think I’ve seen you in one of dad’s classes before.” You nodded your head, as did Andy. “I know you’re in college, have you decided on a major yet?” You could tell he got asked that question a lot, and you instantly regretted asking him that. But answered it anyway, “Not yet, I’m really interested in Political Science, so I’m taking a few intro classes.” He explained.

“Political Science, really?” That topic excited you, “I actually double majored in Pre-Law and Political Science. Do you have Dr. Taylor this semester?” When you mentioned Dr. Taylor, he perked up immediately. “I do actually, is he any good?” You let out a small laugh, “He is amazing, one of my favorite professors, we stay in contact to this day.” It hadn’t been that long since you were his student, only about two years, but you weren't going to admit that. The two of you actually got into a good conversation about Poli Sci, and he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. This made your confidence slowly grow.

Lunch came around and the tension seemed to slowly be lifting, and Jacob wasn’t as shut off with you as you anticipated. He wasn’t overly talkative, but Andy mentioned he had always been that way with new people. After the university talk came to an end, Jacob asked the dreaded question you all knew was coming, “So, are you guys, like, dating, officially?” The answer seemed obvious in the current context, but confirming it to Jacob still gave you anxiety. “Yes, we are.” Andy answered, because all the air seemed to have left your lungs.

He nodded slowly, picking up a piece of food with his fork. “Well, I’m happy for you dad, and you too, (Y/F/N).” It felt like a singular brick had been taken off your shoulders, giving you a small bit of relief, but you knew this wasn’t going to be the end of all this awkwardness. Now that the eight hundred pound elephant has left the room, regular conversation moved on easier. Jacob stayed until around four, he had to meet one of his friends for dinner.

The three of you said your goodbyes, Andy saying bye to his son first, before the sound of his phone ringing pulled him away. This left just you and Jacob in the foyer, and without thinking you began to word vomit. “Listen, I know this is a weird situation to put you in, since you and I are around the same age. And I know there are a lot of other factors in this situation, and I just want to say I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I am definitely willing to put in the work to make this transition as easy as possible for all of us.” Jacob just stood there for awhile, not saying anything, making you feel stupid. But then he finally spoke,

“It will definitely be an adjustment, and if I’m being honest, it has nothing to do with your age, I couldn’t care less about that. You’ll keep my dad young and on his toes, so I appreciate that. It’s just gonna take some time for me to get used to seeing my dad with another woman, that’s all.” He confessed with a shrug.

“But for now, all that matters is that you make my dad unbelievably happy and that’s all I can ask for.