#specifically that shade stalker part oh my feels

[ebitenpura]

Funny you say that, Marr. So has Eight.

I'd also very much argue Arcann is definitely acting through passion: his fueled rage and hatred towards his father who he hardly worships. Unfortunately another flaw of KOTFE where they tried to make Zakuul be the grey area of the Force but there's no way to escape the confines of Dark and Light unless you are literally exempt from those forces.

AKA: a non-force user, or someone like the Voss.

Striking from the dark within is specifically what he does-- and Eight knew from the start he had no chance at freedom, never wanted it, never pursued it, and that drove his entire motivation for making himself invaluable to Jadus, who was power incarnate. The power to protect Intelligence and act with authority he didn't have.

The narrative here is notorious for being mostly relevant to Force-users, but the binding subplot really helps it along.

Gets dialogue option, slams [ATTACK]

Speaking through battle is the Echani way! I believe in this- I mean, fists!

THE BAD BITCHES IN THE GOLD EMBROIDERED LEATHER WITH HOODS ARE FIGHTINGGGG

Sidenote, I adore how it looks like he's taunting her with his free hand to come and get 'im.

Double-cheeked up on a Taungsday afternoon hella ass,

Darth Marr: The weapon you wield was built for a different war. A different enemy. It must change, as you have.

This section leads to building a rather junk-y looking gun that....brings to mind Splatoon metaphors, but given Eight's background and how an Echani chooses a weapon at some point that ultimately reveals who they are at their core, this part actually felt fitting.

I headcanon'd that Marr was more or less implying he was the weapon himself to be rebuilt and reforged, as he always has, and in turn, he needs to embrace that lost part of himself that would flourish in wartime like this.

I've already written about his family's vibrosword before, but in my mind's eye I've replaced the gun building section with retrieving that, and in turn, creating that Echani warrior/warlord alias he wears as the Outlander. I'm 50/50 on that sword's origins since I still like the idea of it not actually being anything special save for a tool in the right hands, but there was the background of his family on Eshan being vibroblade producers/swordsmiths who made this prototype that required a rather deft style to wield which they tried to make popular by inventing their own dueling style to accompany it but it fell out of favor over time with the surge of the Galactic War.

Eight either makes a cheap copy of it because it's a fake and an imitation just like him, or he takes a trip down memory lane and revisits his abandoned home to remember his roots, and the path he has to carve forward.

A blade is just a blade. What matters is what it is willing to spill blood for. Helluva symbol, though.

Eight: There's no limit I can't surpass...

Limit break protocol activated.

Eight: If you accept that death has no power over you, it stops being your enemy...and becomes your ally.

Eight: When that happens...you don't have to fight.

This part was so bittersweet. When the Shade Stalker matriarch came out, I realized through Eight's eyes that he saw it like Jadus: something terrible and fearsome through nature, and one that he felt a resonance with because of that. So he chose to acknowledge it. It's what lets him endure what drives others to madness. He'll never be afraid of the unknown again.

Replace death with fear, and it's the same meaning.

Darth Marr: Your alliance will collapse if you do not know yourself-- and the ideals you serve. Do you understand?

He does. Not in the way you're implying Marr, but he does. He has no self to know, and his ideals will never be his own, but that is exactly why he fights. He travels the galaxy to know the ideals of others-- to someday know himself, to reach that ideal that Keeper once saw for him.

[were-wolverine]

percy jackson ep2 live reaction

annabeth being a little creep i love her

fun fact i learned at the pjo NYCC panel: the most grueling part of the show production was making the camp half-blood shirts. they all had to be a specific shade of orange and there had to be a LOT cuz all the campers wear them consistently

very much angsty tween energy

ITS SOOO PRETTYYYYYYYYYY

i love the big house’s design

grover’s little *clop clop clop* hehe

“your highness” book!percy wouldn’t be caught dead saying that shit but it’s still funny cuz i KNOW as soon as he learns more abt the gods all that respect is out the window. book!percy is just a little asshole from the start

Mr D is fucking perfect casting

godDAMN chiron is tall asf

also i fr did not know brunner was pronounced like that

mr d actually being kinda nice to grover??

ITS SO COOL I WANNA GO TO CAMP THERE

riptide my bbg

i need a close up of the inside and outside of all the cabins immediately

Hermes cabin 💪💪💪

there’s a fire pit IN the cabin?? that seems like a hazard. but also magic and it’s fucking cool so

the complete non-reaction to percy’s introduction now vs how people will eventually react to hearing his name is kinda wild

they really did not give this poor boy any time to grieve his mom huh

LUKE

poor percy, his first reaction to being approached is to be defensive :(

CHB necklace!!!!

o shit that scared me. hello wood nymph. is this his mom??? idk how satyrs are born

the tiger shirt 💀

LIKE AN OLD BANANA HGHDGDGDGD

grover :( ur a good friend bb

dream time woooooo. OH THE VOICE IS KRONOS i forgor

“glory” ok nerd

luke really has a whole posse following him around lmao

IS THAT THE LESBIAN FLAG ON CLARISSE’S NECKLACE???

nvm they all have them in that order….

i love that percy has just had that leather necklace from the very start of the show. in preparation for the camp beads :,)

aaaaaaaa a character in a wheelchair that’s so cool!!!!!

no one’s even gonna show him how to use the bow???

this boy is gonna destroy the camp i love him

BRO DID NOT GET THE JOKE AND I FEEL SO SEEN. YES THERES A GREEK GOD OF DISAPPOINTMENT

oh my god i’m gonna cry. percy praying to sally is my favorite change they made in the whole show

“like, real friends” crying luke how dare you betray this sweet darling boy

YOU TELL HIM PERCY!! get his ass

“hey guys! 😃 🤚 can’t sleep huh?” ilysm percy

“do you think you’re special?” oh boy clarisse do you have a big surprise coming. also percy didn’t even tell anyone abt the minotaur that was grover

okay i liked this cgi way better than nancy bobofit’s takedown

annabeth stalker behavior i love you. SHE ADMITS IT TOO I LOVE HERRRE

“annabeth sees the world differently” yeah she’s autistic with a genius iq

sobbing. “she’s my little sister”. pain. the betrayal is gonna hurt so much more

th-alia ??? hm

“until zeus broke the pact” hades, hiding his kids from the 1940s in the lotus hotel: yeah zeus was the one to break it first, obviously

i can’t wait to see who they cast as thalia

“let it rip” i see what you did there 👀 my mind went right to beyblade tho lol

their shields lowkey look like the nightwing symbol :3

SUNSHINE ADDSHFJFHDG

god this set is so fucking cool

cringefail loserboy rizz

THE HAT!!!!!!!!!!!

“he’ll be ready, i know it” *cuts to percy flossing* i love this dumbass so much

lizard :D

exceptional depiction of adhd ty rick

bro really just gave away the location of the flag with no hesitation lol

OH SHIT THAT WAS COOL! the roll into picking up the shield? smooth asf!!!

how tf did the spear even break isn’t it made of like magic metal

she really used him as bait lmao. *pushes him into the water* she’s just testing a hypothesis!!

holy shit the cabin is so cool. kinda spooky tho. i hate to say it but i like the movie version better

“what 😃”

damn they really just blame everything on hades huh. poor guy. i’d hate my siblings too if they gave me a shitty job and made me the scapegoat for a bunch of stuff

why tf is chiron wearing a suit. why.

“i’m sally jackson’s son” YES YOU ARE KING

grover you’re the best ily. chiron you’re giving way too much dumbledore energy i hate it

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[blossom-hwa]

I don't generally request stuff and the reason why I am doing this is because I absolutely love your work, especially the Kingdom Series and the Mermaid!Younghoon and I am a little embarassed to put out my little imagination request out

But I would like to request

Sunwoo + colour lavender but could you make it best friends to lovers au too? (It is okay if you can only work on one part too!!! Whatever you are comfortable with)

Thank you so much! Congrats on your 4 years, and thanking for alllllll the amazing work you have put out!!!!! Really big appreciation for you and your writing!!! Ly❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hi love! there's no need to be embarrassed at all about this - it's a lovely idea, and thank you so much for your kind words and the request! I hope you enjoy this token of my thanks for your support <3

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

~

Title: Palette

Pairing: Sunwoo x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Triggers: none

~

"What color am I?"

The question comes on a hot day spent on the couch with the air conditioner broken, when everything feels like it's melting under the heat of the sun baking your apartment to a crisp. Somewhere in the building, a repairman is trying to figure out what's wrong.

You and Sunwoo, however, are melting into puddles on the sticky hardwood floor.

"What?" You shake yourself out of the blank state you’ve slipped into, staring at the empty ceiling. You've never spent much time looking at the ceiling. It's off white, maybe eggshell, a little cracked and blemished but not enough for you to say to no to the cheaper rent. Looking at it now, though, it's kind of ugly.

"You said Juyeon is yellow, like sunflowers.” He pauses. “Eric’s... green, I think. Sangyeon was red, Changmin was also green, but brighter than Eric. Right?”

Something tugs at the back of your mind, a memory of using your paints to describe some of your friends. Your eyes drift to the abandoned easel in the corner of the muggy room. You can almost feel the canvas melting off of it into a paint-splattered puddle on the floor. “Right,” you reply, wiping a bead of sweat off of your head. 

“You didn’t give me a color,” Sunwoo says. You can’t spare the energy to look in his direction even though he’s literally right next to you, but you imagine he looks about as wiped out as you feel. “So I wondered.”

Colors. Yes, colors like the off-white eggshell of your ceiling, the blue of the sky outside... 

What color is Sunwoo?

Orange is the first one that comes to mind, orange like a sunset, burning as it slowly dips under the horizon. Its rays wisp into the sky, fading in some places, intensifying in others, turning it into a mural of oranges and pinks and yellows, burning like the passion that fuels Sunwoo’s soul...

Oh, but yellow. Yellow exists - maybe not as golden as Juyeon’s yellow, maybe not as bright as the burning sun, but darker, deeper, like marigolds - orange mixed in, perhaps, but still yellow in abundance, like flower petals bursting into bloom. 

You frown. Sweat drips down the side of your face, but this time, you don’t even notice. Orange and yellow - they’re right, but not quite right. Not exactly. Not yet...

Sunwoo’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “Still thinking?” 

“Shut up.” You flail around a limp arm, smiling with satisfaction when it hits his stomach with an audible thump. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“You’re thinking about a color.”

“How long do you think it takes me to mix the exact right shade for each part of a painting?” You turn just enough to let him see your raised eyebrow. “Thinking about colors takes a lot of work.”

He grumbles but shuts up, eyes closing as he settles back onto the floor. You keep watching him though, follow the curve of his jaw down to his chin, tanned skin shiny with the sheen of moisture that seems to have covered everything in this tiny apartment...

Bronze comes to mind, warm, metallic, rich like the color of his skin. They made weapons out of bronze in the past - strong, steady, unyielding, like Sunwoo’s will to push past obstacles no matter how hard they seem at a glance. He could be a bronze statue, for all you know - he’s handsome enough for that, certainly some sculptor from the past would have been taken with Sunwoo’s looks if he’d been around and created a statue that would have lasted for centuries afterward. 

But it’s warm. Too warm. And maybe it’s just because of the hot sun pouring into the room even with the shades drawn, but thinking about metal, about bronze, makes you feel like you’re touching a burning hot stove on a day like this. There have to be other colors, right? Other colors that aren’t bronze, green, pink, maybe blue - 

Blue. You latch onto the thought. Not the color of the relentless sky, but maybe like the ocean - cool, deep, ceaseless in its flow but not overbearing until a storm comes, whipping the waves into a chaos of whirling water that slashes and swipes across the beach. Sunwoo’s a little bit of both, you think, the part of the ocean that goes with the flow, but also the part that gets a little angry, a little passionate, a little too worked up about some things sometimes. 

But his anger isn’t quite blue. Not really. Sunwoo is quick to anger but also quick to calm when dealt with correctly. The storm builds up its rage and lashes out as long as it wants, but Sunwoo... no. He’s not that way. Not quite. 

You stifle a groan. Is there any color that fits Sunwoo perfectly, then? Any single color on the stained palette next to your easel, any single color in the world? He’s too complex, too much of everything all at once - he could be blue, could be bronze, could be orange or yellow or pink, of all things - you could find a way to justify every single one but none of them would be enough - 

Your gaze rises from his chin to his lips, and your mouth goes dry. 

Maybe he’s red, like the first time you ever noticed the fullness of his lips. 

No, don’t think about that. You squeeze your eyes shut tight before opening them as though that’ll erase the image of his lips from your mind. It was in high school - you’d handed him his water bottle after ten minutes of running laps and you’d watched him tip it against his lips so full and soft, and for a moment, you had let yourself imagine what it’d be like to have those lips against yours. 

You force yourself to look somewhere else, anywhere, just away from the lips and the shade of red beginning to shimmer before your eyes. Red, right - your mind scrambles to turn its thoughts away - red - colors - that’s what you were supposed to be thinking of - not lips, colors - 

Your gaze rises above the lips to Sunwoo’s closed eyes. 

Only they aren’t closed anymore. 

You can’t breathe. You literally can’t breathe - how long have his eyes been open? How long did he see you watching him like some stupid creepy stalker?

Did he realize you were looking at his lips?

“Done yet?” he asks, breaking the silence. Is it just your imagination, or do his eyes flicker down to your lips too?

Just your imagination. “Shut up.” Even the jab comes out weaker than you’d like to. You want to look away, but you can’t seem to do it - something’s rooting you where you are, eyes fixed upon his. “Give me a minute.”

“How many minutes has it been?” It’s just your imagination, just your imagination... “Is it really that hard? You thought of Eric’s in, like, a second.”

You’re too much, you think. Too many colors all at once. But instead of saying that aloud, you just swallow, like the idiot you are. “Let me think,” you say. Your voice almost cracks. 

Red. Shades of red, beautiful red, the color of his lips, the core of the sun burning at sunset, smoldering embers on a dying fire splashed across the canvas of your vision. And yes, it’s almost perfect, almost there - you have his flaring temper caught in a color, now, but it needs something to cool it off - 

Blue. Blue, like you thought before, the ocean and its ceaseless flow. Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red...

“Purple,” you whisper, too close to his lips. Rich, royal, the coolness of blue and the fire of red... “Some shade of purple.”

“Purple.” Sunwoo repeats the word with curiosity on his lips, almost like he’s tasting the color on his tongue. “Why purple?”

“I -” You swallow when the soft puff of his breath hits your face. When exactly did you two get this close? It wouldn’t take more than a few inches to close the gap between your lips. “I couldn’t choose between blue and red,” you say honestly. “You’re both. In fact, it feels like you’re a bit of every color. But purple... that’s the closest I can get without giving you a specific shade.”

“Which shade?”

Something clicks into place in your mind, and it is definitely not your imagination this time when Sunwoo’s eyes fall down to your lips. 

The dryness in your mouth makes it difficult to swallow. You try anyway. “Give me a moment,” you murmur, heart beating unnecessarily quickly. 

Think. Shades of purple. Do you go darker or lighter? Warmer or cooler? Is he magenta? Mauve? Violet? Your mind flicks as quickly as it can through the catalogue of colors in your mind. Cooler, probably - he’s more the ocean than the fire, more embers than a full flame - lighter, too, like a breath of fresh air - 

A blast of cool wind gusts down from the vent. It’s gone almost as quickly as it comes, but it stays with you in the name of the color forming on your lips. 

Your voice comes out like a whisper. It feels wrong to speak any louder. “I’ve got it.”

Sunwoo blinks. His lashes look so lovely, framing his eyes. “Really?” he asks, and you have wonder if he closed the distance slightly since the last time you spoke - the few inches that separated you before seem to have decreased to a mere centimeter or two. “So what color am I?”

There’s another blast of cool air. Neither of you reacts to it. Instead, as blissfully cold air begins to filter through the vents, impulse drives you to lean forward, to close the entire distance at last -

Sunwoo’s lips are softer than you ever thought they’d be. They feel cool and warm all at once, purple as a base but lighter, cooler, a breath of fresh air on your face after a horribly hot day spent in the sun.

“Lavender,” you whisper against his lips. “You’re lavender.”

You don’t offer an explanation, but he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, like he did with purple. It’s okay. You think he knows it. Feels it, at least, when you kiss him once more, fresh air washing over your bodies, painting the canvas of your skin in cool, blissfully cool strokes. 

Lavender. 

[ssamie]

three. “stalker vibes”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide, probably a lot of spelling mistakes

masterlist.          suicide freak!

"class, today we have a new student joining us. please be nice to her" the teacher announced with a smile

kenma flinched at the sudden news. he kept his head down low, discreetly playing on his PSP under his desk, but he listened attentively to their teacher.

as the students started whispering to each other, kenma simply prayed that it wasn't the weirdo that kept bugging him last night. he didn't really know why he was suspecting it to be her. but with her out of context words last night, he couldn't help but be wary.

call it a gut feeling, if you may.

"alright, quiet down!" the teacher said "cmon in, l/n-san"

and just then, kenma swore he lost faith in both god and humanity all in one second.

he shakily looked up to see the same girl from the cafe. her (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, and her fairly tall stature was interesting.

but what seemed to catch most of their attention was the bandages covering her arms, legs, and neck. some parts of it could be seen through the uniform jacket and undershirt, while the bandages on her legs could be seen through the thin material of her black tights.

"good morning! im l/n y/n. please take care of me~" she cooed.

she sent them a close eyed smile, along with a wave. it was something about the smooth tone of her voice.or maybe it was her effortlessly captivating smile. maybe it was just the insane amount of bandages she had.. 

but there was something about her that just somehow had the whole class wanting her attention.

in all honesty, its probably just because she was insanely attractive. 

"anything else you'd like to share about yourself?" the teacher asked her

"hm, maybe find out for yourselves~ let's be friends" she mused

kenma raised a brow at her awfully vauge answer. though he decided to shrug it off.

meanwhile, in her perspective, she was pretty much watching every movement of kenma's body. just before she took her seat, she whispered a small request to the teacher.

the teacher nodded along. "alright, you cam sit with kozume-kun, l/n-san"

"kozume-kun? will that be okay with you?" the teacher asked him

kenma froze as he felt multiple eyes land on him. his palms grew sweaty as he nervously nodded. he didn't like the attention he was receiving.

"i'll let you guys get to know each other for now. i'll be in the faculty room if you need me!" the teacher announced before walking out the classroom. 

she grinned and skipped over to him. 

"why." he muttered in annoyance "just why."

"hehe, well i did say i'd see you tomorrow, did i not?" she said with a cheeky smile

kenma simply stayed quiet, side eying her, before looking back down on his PSP.  "stalker." he said 

she gasped in offense and dramatically put her hand on her chest. "im no stalker, excuse you!" 

kenma scrunched his face up and looked her up and down. "stalker." he said. 

"coincidence? not quite! fate?" she raised a brow amusedly "i mean, what else could it be than that!" 

"please don't talk to me." kenma sighed 

she blatantly ignored him and carried on talking. "or maybe! i specifically asked to be transfered to your school and class!" 

kenma looked up at her with a look of irritation and disbelief.  "you what?" he scowled 

"oh my.." she pouted and placed a hand on her heart dramatically "i was just kidding! do you really think i'd do something like that?" 

kenma huffed and put away his console. "yes." he answered 

"well then, you're absolutely right!" 

"but what i didnt plan was to be able to sit next to you!" she pouted "so now some gentlemen are getting me a desk of my own" she smirked and looked over his shoulder "so for the time being, i guess there's just no other option than to sit on your lap" she chuckled 

"oh, since it can't be helped. can't be helped" she said with a small hum 

just before kenma would have had to resort to dropkicking her, the said boys waltzes in carrying a desk and a chair 

"l/n-san! we got you your desk, sorry for the wait" one of the boys said 

"damn." she muttered with a scowl 

"damn?" the boys repeated with a nervous smile 

"i mean, thank you! what kind gentlemen you are" she sent them a smile as she took a seat beside kenma 

the boys all flushed pink and nodded back at her. 

her smile quickly dropped as she turned to look at kenma. he was now playing his game again, and blatantly ignoring her. 

"ke-n-ma~" she sang out 

"kenma-kun~" she called out again 

she smiled and slid her desk closer to his, her chair and herself following. she hummed in content as she felt their shoulders brushing. 

"what are you doing" kenma asked with a huff as he scooted away from her 

"what are you doing? were supposed to use this time to get to know each other" she said with a hum 

"no thanks. i know enough." he responded blandly 

she pouts and rocks her chair back and forth. "suit yourself. i might just woo the boys and girls for the time being" she said as she send a wave to a group of girls a few tables away from them 

"i'd ask them on a double suicide, but no one could ever beat you" she cooed as she nudged his shoulder with hers 

"i don't care" he said as he turned away from her 

"meet you later at lunch pudding~" 

"dont talk to me" 

as lunch time ensues, kenma practically bolted out the door. luckily for him, she stayed true to her words of 'wooing the boys and girls'. 

currently, y/n was trapped in a circle of hormonal teenagers. she was merely smiling and laughing, throwing in flirtatious words here and there. 

"eek! l/n-chan, come eat lunch with us!" one girl exclaimed

y/n blinked and smiled blankly. she was slightly concerned on how quick these girls' sexualities flipped a 180°.

"sorry, but i made plans with someone already" she said as she slyly pushed her way through the crowd  "maybe tomorrow!" she exclaimed before walking out 

"if im still alive~" she cooed to herself 

"now.." she muttered to herself as she stopped by a hallway. "where's that pudding head.." 

she looked around a few more times before giving up. she shrugged it off and made a bee line towards the rooftop 

"fresh air, nice view, conveniently placed rope.." she listed out with a content sigh. she looked around the seemingly empty rooftop and nodded with determination. she picked up the 'conveniently placed rope' and started tying a noose 

humming a small tune to herself, she tied the rope around her neck with a smile. 

"who would've thought that doing it in a school rooftop would be the trick?" she mused with a small laugh

meanwhile in poor kenma's perspective, he was merely trying to play his game in peace. he had ran away from kuroo, and the only possible hiding place left would be the rooftop. 

all he wanted was to play his game. 

what he didn't want, was to see someone trying to hang themselves with a huge smile on their face.

"w-what the-" he stuttered out 

"oya?" she muttered out as she made eye contact with him 

"kenma! great timing! perfect, actually!" she cheered 

she slipped the noose off and waved at him, holding the rope with her hands. 

"i was initially gonna be alone, but with you here, the whole game plan has changed!" she said with a hearty laugh 

"y/n?! what are you doing?!" he asked with a look of panic in his eyes. he gripped his PSP tight as he warily stepped closer to her. 

she cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused smile. "what else? im gonna hang myself, of course" 

"dont do that! are you crazy??" he exclaimed 

"of course im not! but this-" she motioned to the rope "this will be my way out! who knew the oldest method in the book would be the answer" she hummed 

kenma didn't answer. but he slowly put down his PSP on the ground and creeped up on her. as she started singing some weird suicide song, kenma was already behind her. she simply thought he was planning on joining her so she left him be. 

"alright! time to d-" 

before she could slide her head in and wrap the noose around her neck, kenma was already tackling her. 

"stop it, you suicidal maniac!" he exclaimed as he pushed his body against hers 

her eyes widen comically as she slipped on the chair she was standing on, sending her flying in the air. as funny and as impossible as it is, she, for some reason, ended up having her leg stuck to the noose, leaving her dangling upside down. 

kenma, however, was on the ground laying on his stomach. y/n looks at him with her (e/c) eyes, a look of confusion and irritation lacing her features. 

"damn." she scowled 

"damn?!" he repeated with a scoff 

kenma stood up, dusting his uniform as he glared at her with his cat-like eyes. "i just saved your life." he glared at her "and why are you doing that anyway?" 

she then smiled sheepishly and placed her hands on her chest. "i just thought that ending it here, without atsushi and kunikida-kun or anyone else to interfere, would be the perfect way out!" 

"but then you came.." she gritted her teeth 

kenma scoffed in offense and picked his PSP up from the ground. 

"i actually thought you were finally gonna join me!" she whined  "imagine the hurt i felt after your betrayal!" she exclaimed dramatically 

kenma sighed and clutched his pulsating chest. it was definitely his first time doing something like that. 

"ne, kenma-kun" she whined "since you're already here, you might as well eat lunch with me" 

she wiggled around in hope of freeing herself but sighed in defeat when she failed to do so.  "also, maybe come help me out of this?" she asked sheepishly 

"just die like that." kenma replied bluntly. he took a seat next to her dangling body, cowering in the shade as he continued to play his game, though he sneeked some glances at her from time to time. 

"but i snuck in some alcohol and i was dying to try it out" she sighed dejectedly 

"alcohol?" kenma cringed 

"well, yeah. i was hoping i'd consume so much i'd just die from it" she said nonchalantly "and because i like the taste of it" 

"help me out ke-n-ma~" she sang out "ke-n-ma~" 

kenma simply ignored her and continued playing. 

"..." she paused 

"kyanmaaaa!! ~" she called out while waving her arms around 

"fine!" he snapped and stomped over to her, blushing once he caught sight of her lifted skirt. though there wasn't really much to see since she was wearing shorts. 

"hold still-" he huffed as he tried to untie the knot 

"hehe, this is real intimate, don't you think?" she chuckled and hugged his torso, though she ended up hugging his lower waist due to her current position. she nuzzled her face into his midsection, making him flinch 

"yeah. real cute. romantic. wow." he retorted sarcastically as he started sliding her leg out 

she let out a yelp as she suddenly fell on the hard ground. she looked up at his unamused face with a sly grin. she was laying the the floor while he looked down at her. 

"so.. you come here often?" she snickered 

"die." 

"that's the plan!" 

[ponds-puddle]

Day Out ~{Shinso}~ (4/??)

word count: 1790 

part one / part two / part three

SERIES MASTERLIST

- 

“So about the homeless man,” your friend Jirou said as she plopped on your bed. You huffed stubbornly at her comment.

“I told you that he’s not homeless.” 

“He never gets off on his stop,” she said dully, “Maybe because he doesn’t really have any specific stop so he just wanders around your neighborhood at night. Good job, Y/N. You have a homeless man for a stalker.” 

“Jirou, he isn’t stalking me. If he was, wouldn’t I have run into him a second time a lot sooner?”

“He’s good at what he does,” she drones before looking at you, “You’re not his first.” 

“Jirou, you’re so uncalled for.” 

“You’re uncalled for,” she scoffed lamely before dropping her head back onto the bed dramatically.

“Did you ever truly grow up past five? I don’t think I’ve seen you change a single bit from then on.” 

Jirou laughed at you, not phased by your comment. The two of you have such a strange but beautiful relationship. Rather than being sweet to one another, the two of you just constantly roast one another. It’s a lot more entertaining that way. 

Truth is that you’ve known Jirou all your life. The two of you grew up next to each other. The two of you had that perfect friendship thing. The windows in both of your rooms faced one another. The two of you were destined to be friends and no one could tell you two otherwise. 

“Seriously though, Y/N…” Jirou said stiffly. You turned curiously at the girl, “Are you sure you’re not putting yourself in any danger meeting him at night? My patrol isn’t too far away. I can always walk you home at nights.” 

“Jir,” you said sweetly, “I promise that I’ll be okay. If anything happens, the way to my house has lots of plants. So I’ll be fine.” 

“Do you think that he’d do anything?” 

The air seemed so thick, “No.” 

Jirou didn’t look at you, but your eyes never once left her. You were somehow very certain, almost one hundred percent certain, that Shinso wouldn’t hurt you. There was no reasoning behind your thoughts. But there weren’t any to think otherwise either. 

“I believe you.”

“Good, now can you, like, insult me or something now? That was way too serious for us.”

Jirou laughed, She definitely agreed. 

-

“Why are you here? It’s not the middle of the night,” you joked with the purple haired boy sitting in his usual seat on the train. You were glad you weren’t the only one who automatically went to those seats if they’re open. Something about them seemed comforting. They were familiar. 

“I do have a life, you know.” 

“Actually I did not know that,” you commented pointedly as you sat beside him, “I don’t know much of anything about you.” 

“Same here,” he said while turning to look at you, “I think that’s part of the fun, don’t you?” 

You wanted to agree with him on instinct, but you didn’t, “Actually I would like to know more about you. I feel like knowing you would be more fun, you know?” 

The way you said it was so innocent, but Shinso could tell that you were throwing a tiny dagger along with your words. You were serious about it. You were determined to be friends with him, and for a moment Shinso felt afraid of this smiling creature in front of him. So stubborn. But at the same time so irritatingly interesting. 

“Yeah,” he said in a puzzled tone, wondering what it was about you that was making his heart beat so fast right now. 

“You good?” 

“Yeah just… thinking,” he shook it off, finally looking you in the eyes, “It’s nothing.” 

God his eyes are beautiful. 

All your life you have surrounded yourself in varieties of colors. Everyday of your life was filled to the brim with vibrant and intense colors. But not as intense as the color of his eyes. They could almost compare to lavender, but you have never seen a shade of lavender sparkle the way his eyes do. Maybe it was the reflection of the stars and lights in his irises, but whatever it was made you rethink whatever you once believed to be your favorite color. When you were with him, his purple outshines every other color you’ve seen. 

“What are you thinking about?” Shinso asked you sweetly, leaning his cheek into his palm. He looked so cute with the way his face squished against his hand. You suppressed a giggle, instead just giving him the softest of smiles. 

“I really like the color of your eyes.” 

Shinso froze slightly, his eyes widening slightly at your confession. He allowed his expression to stray from the norm for just a second more before replacing it with his usual smirk. 

“I like yours too.” 

A bright blush invaded your cheeks, humoring Shinso. He didn’t comment on it however, not wanting you to cover it from him. 

“What are you doing today?” 

“Grocery shopping, you?” 

“I actually just got off work. I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do today.” 

“You could join me if you want?” 

“I wouldn’t be intruding?” 

Shinso picked up your work bag before standing up and holding his hand out to you. Your hand reached out and met his as if on instinct, allowing him to pull you up from your seat. 

“You wanted to get to know me right?” he asked smoothly, suavely moving a piece of hair behind your ear, “Now’s your chance.”

- 

“How old are you?” 

“24, you?” he replied, spinning the produce bag before placing it in his cart.

“23, and your questions can’t all be asking the same thing to me. That’s cheating.” 

He rolled his eyes, pointing at the apples behind you, “Three please. And it’s not cheating. Maybe I just like your questions?” 

“Make up your own,” you laughed, handing him the bag of apples you had packed. He gave you a quiet “thank you” before placing it in the cart.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, drawing a laugh out of you, “What’s your favorite animal?” 

“Elephants!” you said excitedly. Shinso’s eyebrows raised at your enthusiasm, “Sorry, I just really like them.” 

“It’s your turn,” he laughed as he walked away with the cart, his hand coming out to hold onto your elbow. In the little time that he has known you, he’s realized how spacey you could get. He was sure if he didn’t keep his eye on you, you’d end up lost. He thought you were the cutest thing in the world. 

“Right,” you said with a little hum, unphased by him pulling you along, “What do you do for a living?” 

Shinso frowned. He couldn’t really tell you he was a hero. Not after he lied and said that he didn’t have a quirk. He stayed silent for a moment, pretending to be interested in a box of mac n cheese in his hand. 

“Shinso?” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you do for a living?” 

“Oh I-” 

“Shinso!” a loud voice broke through. He sighed in relief, not really sure what he was going to reply to that anyways. The relief didn’t last long, however. Not when he saw who had called him. 

“Kaminari,” he sighed, causing you to frown. Why did he seem so upset to see the boy? 

“I haven’t seen you in so long!” he dramatically hung himself on the boy, forcing him into a hug. 

“Think maybe it was on purpose?” 

Kaminari gasped, pulling away from the boy and holding his “broken” heart, “Shinso, after all we have been through? You wound me.” 

“Oh go short-circuit,” Shinso laughed, causing Kaminari to join in with him. You watched the two boys with a small smile on your face. You had never seen Shinso talk to anyone else before. He seemed so different with his friends than he does when he’s with just you. He’s meaner, but you can tell that it’s all jokes. You wonder what he would sound like when angry.

“Who is this?” 

“Leave her alone, Kaminari,” Shinso said with a straightened spine, knowing exactly how perverted his friend could act. You looked up at the stranger with a smile, not sure why Shinso had suddenly gotten so serious.

“Don’t listen to him,” you said as you stepped up to be stood beside Shinso, “I’m Y/N.” 

Denki looked between you and Shinso for a moment, “No way,” he gasped.

“Kaminari,” Shinso said warningly.

“Dude, she’s way cute,” he gushes, stepping closer to you. It didn’t feel threatening, but you could tell that Shinso wasn’t too happy with him advancing on you, “When’d you get yourself a girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Shinso said stubbornly, beginning to look for a way out of this conversation. He was hoping Kaminari wouldn’t mention the whole hero thing. He wasn’t sure how he could talk himself out of that right now. 

“Then you’re single?” Kaminari’s eyes were now attached to you. You looked up at Shinso, seeing his uncomfortable features. A frown fell onto your lips, you didn’t like seeing him look like that. 

“No,” you lied, “Shinso is actually helping me pick out something to make for my girlfriend tonight. It’s our anniversary today. I’m a hopeless cook, but Shinso,” you placed your hands onto Shinso’s arm, causing him to look down at you, “is an absolute saint and my own personal hero and offered to help out. We’re actually in a little bit of a time crunch, so is it alright if we cut this short? I wanna get everything put out before she gets off work.” 

The farewells didn’t last long. However when Kaminari went in for a hug, Shinso gently pulled you to the side. You watched with a stifled laugh as the boy fell straight to the floor. You wanted to help the boy stand, but you were at a loss when Shinso took your hand and pulled you away from the loud blonde boy. 

“Sorry about that,” Shinso said gruffly, letting go of your hand. A small pout threatened your lips at the loss of contact.

“It’s fine, but you owe me dinner now.” 

Shinso looked down at you in surprise, only to see you staring straight ahead with a proud smile on your face. He smiled softly, “You sure your girlfriend won’t mind?” 

“The only girls I have in my life are my best friend Jirou and cat, Nakoma.” 

Shinso’s face broke out in a smile, “You have a cat?” 

Seeing the excitement on his face warmed your heart, “How about we have dinner at my place tonight? You can meet her?” 

He seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding, “Yeah I’d like that.” 

[hubbytaeil]

summer fling!au + Johnny  pt. I

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a summery Friday afternoon, not a single cloud in the sky. You had no intention of getting up from your bed as you lay on the colourful sheets. And yet you wanted to engage yourself into something, anything.

You got up, fixed your sundress from any wrinkles and headed out in the vast garden of your family’s summer house. You felt so lucky you could spend your days off in a place such as this: flowers blooming everywhere, the smell of freshly cut grass and the trees filled with ripe fruits.

As you were walking along the artificial path, the beautiful cherry tree caught your eye. The cherries this year were absolutely marvellous; their dark red shade promised to carry an indescribable taste. Just the sight made your stomach rumble.

As you got closer you noticed a ladder, probably left untouched by the gardener, and your grandmother’s handmade basket hanging on a tree branch.

This is going to be so much fun.

 The higher you got on the ladder, the better the cherries looked and you were eager to put them all in your basket, despite it being already full.

You hadn’t noticed how far you had climbed; such sudden realisation made your heart skip a beat. Yet, at the same time it gave you a rush of adrenaline that was much needed on that lazy day. Your gaze started to wonder from tree to tree and from rooftop to rooftop as the restless wind played with your hair harmoniously.

Time had suddenly stopped, right there, between branches and leaves, your dress floating with them and you breathed in and out. You felt alive, you felt real, you felt everything. You were almost certain that you could take flight, right where you were.

And that’s when you saw him, on the balcony of your neighbour’s house. Standing there, wearing a loose white shirt that resembled a white flag as it moved rapidly. Surrender.

Completely lost into the young man’s appearance, you to let your eyes unconsciously analyse what you were witnessing. The tall stranger was looking ahead, both arms on the railing, hands fidgeting with each other as he turned his head from side to side sporadically. His exposed chest revealed a golden necklace with a strange pendant of which you could not figure out the nature. In your mind all sorts of scenarios regarding that man started playing one after the other.

He could be the new owner’s son, we’ve never seen him so far, or maybe he’s the owner. I wonder why he would buy a house here and not greet his neighbours. He looks so relaxed and his hair looks kind of wet, perhaps they have a pool in the backyard. Maybe he just took a shower.

You scolded yourself at the direction your thoughts had taken all at once. Indeed, he was undeniably attractive, so attractive you hadn’t in the least realised the intensity by which you were staring. To make it all worse, you seemed to have caught the stranger’s attention as well. Your eyes widened like never before as you took in the embarrassing situation you were entangled in.

Shit. He’s going to think I’m a stalker. Well… I can’t really blame him, can I?

You were paralyzed right there on the ladder, trying to think of a way to descend in most casual way possible, as if nothing had happened. But the man’s eyes were piercing through you and you were hypnotized by his figure. He was relatively far from you and yet you could feel the weight of his gaze in every part of your body.

Out of the blue, your neighbour smiled at you kindly and started waving his right hand in your direction. You were taken back by his unexpected action. You greeted him as well using the hand that was holding onto the dress. As the wind was picking up, you remembered why your hand had been placed there specifically. Your skirt floated in various directions and you immediately held on to it like your life depended on it. At this point your cheeks were completely on fire, as the embarrassment had only grown within a few seconds.

You managed to look up again at the handsome stranger. He was definitely amused at your little show and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had enjoyed it as well. Perhaps he had enjoyed catching you staring at him too.

It was a rather peculiar scene that was enfolding in front of both of you. Two complete strangers ever so far away, sharing this small embarrassing moment. Even if there were several yards separating you, the tension was palpable in every way.

His beautiful smile disappeared from his face and you felt rather disappointed until he started moving his arms. Your entire attention was on him and on what he was trying to communicate.

Meet me in front of the gate, that’s what his arms and hands tried to verbalise and you were hoping to be right.

Your heart was pounding resonantly as you took small steps towards the man’s house. You didn’t know what was motivating you; this stranger had seen you gawk at him in the most sinful way, for God knows how long. And yet there you were, with a basket full of cherries, burning hot cheeks and ruffled hair, impatient to look at him more closely. Impatient to catch every detail he had to offer.

He appeared right as you turned in the direction of the residence. As soon as he saw you, he started walking towards you, as the leaves of the wisteria hanging from the gates made wonderful shapes across his face. He didn’t look like a human being; he was almost too ethereal for this world. When he was close enough you could see that the pendant he was wearing resembled a military tag but you couldn’t figure out what was written on it. Too lost in your thoughts for the second time that day, when he finally spoke to you no sound reached you.

“Excuse me… what did you say?” he chuckled at your response, only making you feel worse.

“I just said, hello I’m Johnny.”

Being so up close, you found it difficult to catch a breath. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I think at this point you should tell me your name.” he put your feet back on Earth once again.

“Oh, right… yes, I’m y/n.” you cursed at yourself for being so awkward but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he was smiling tenderly which was reassuring.

Silence fell between you two and he looked down at the basket you were carrying with your arm. You noticed and held it in front of him.

“Here… as a welcome gift.”

“So that’s why you were up there, clinging on to the tree like a little monkey.” His remark put the biggest smile on your face.

“I wouldn’t sat that…I think I was holding on to the branches in most lady-like way possible.”

“Uhm, and tell me is it also lady-like to stare at your neighbours?”

Your expression got extremely serious all of a sudden as you felt ashamed of what you had done. I told you, he thinks you’re a stalker. Great technique, monkey.

But he couldn’t keep a straight face for too long and a few seconds later he started laughing in your face.

“I’m just messing with you. C’mon, don’t make that face.” He said while patting your head gently. At the sudden touch your body froze.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out. Quick. Say something. Anything.

“It’s just that… I’ve been coming here every summer for the past few years and I’ve never seen anyone living in that house. So, I was surprised.”

“Yeah, my dad wanted us to have some family time far away from home. So we rented this house.” You nodded in response as you looked towards the great villa.

His eyes followed your gaze as he put his face maybe a little too close to yours. You gasped at direct attack and he smirked. Damn if he’s cocky.

“If I were you I wouldn’t that.” You suddenly found the courage to say something that made sense.

“Do what, monkey?” you almost smiled at the nickname, but you forced yourself not to.

“Look at girls like that. People talk easily around here.”

“Well, if I were I wouldn’t stare at a guy standing on his balcony while being on a ladder. Wouldn’t that be something to talk about in this small town?”. Touché.

You felt defeated but you didn’t break the eye contact.

“I guess we both have a lot to learn.”

“We certainly do.”

As the tension grew you were starting to feel your heart racing again. The effect this guy had on you was inexplicable.

“Listen y/n.” you never knew your name could become such a blessed harmony until you heard him say it.

“Yes…?” you responded hesitantly.

“Since you seem to know this place very well… wouldn’t you like to show me around sometimes? In return I’ll forgive you for the monkey accident.”

Well, if that didn’t sound like the best idea ever. Your immediate reaction was a great big smile, by which he also was surprised. You linked your arm with his.

“That seems like a great idea. Come, let’s go get an espresso.”

He held on to you arm tightly and then took your basket from your hands.

“Let’s go.”

 a/n: my first fic aaa hope it’s good 💚

ps: if you have any requests feel free to send them!

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - party animals

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six Part Seven

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 1600

warnings: Y/N’s bitching about people misinterpreting skate punk culture

music: neck deep - serpents (mark hoppus remix), good charlotte - i don’t wanna be in love, metro station - wish we were older, sum 41 - in too deep

The party was a success. The people did remember early Fall Out Boy, and they did still love them. Gerard Way’s name was still ringing bells in people’s hearts – the only thing Y/N was unhappy about was the fact that they completely mistook the idea.

“I mean… this is not an emo party”, she repeated for the thousandth time. Damon was at her side, just as he’d promised. He was at the very best disinterested in her youth’s culture. In fact, she remembered him mention once, Damon started feeling really tired exactly in 2006, and this outburst of depression made him migrate to north for some time, before returning to Mystic Falls. His silver-green eyes were snapping from one shape of human to another, he wasn’t really listening to her.

“They’re all misdressed…” she gasped. “Except… ah! That’s Mal. He always looks like he’s about to break his nose on the asphalt”.

“Why?” Damon asked absent-mindedly.

“Because he’s about to go skating”.

“That’s the guy?” Damon nodded at Mal, eyes focusing on him.

“Yeah”.

Music was blasting, and people were dancing. They were shaking, thrashing their heads. A couple of immortal hits already made the whole place sweat a little, their cervical vertebrae did not feel good about that.

Mal was chatting with a girl. The system Y/N was remembering people was, she remembered the kind of troubles they were in. This one, Cindy, or Sandy, she once failed to submit not five, not six, but ten papers in a row, and a group of teachers was very unhappy with her. Y/N could not really help her, except to say that she should probably stop partying and go study. Not a lot of time actually has passed since she was a student at a college herself; but she was never a party animal. She had problems with her studies because she had a cluster of minor disorders, from eating to insomnia.

From the looks of it, he was all over the girl. Wide smirk, and the way he bent to her slightly; his eyes were watching her expression closely, and the thin silver chain he always wore under shirt gleamed faintly in the blue lightning.

“I thought you said he was stunning”, Damon sneered.

“I never said stunning. I said adorable”.

“He’s very, very usual, Y/N”.

“Well, compared to you, maybe. Not all people tend to look like fucking Renaissance statuary, Damon”.

Damon sniffed, ruffling his invisible feathers.

“So, what don’t you like about him?”

“He looks like a man with a plan. I don’t really know what’s going on in his head”.

Damon turned to her and eyed her with the usual oily look of a hungry lizard.

“Man. I thought your intuition is kicking in. And you just wanna hit it up with a guy”.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Please, please, just for once, just do what I ask you to. Just check him out. Did you find anything about Martha Hopps, by the way?”

“I did, stalker. She is a real human person and she lives in Mystic Falls. She moved in recently with her parents and two sisters. Which is, whatever, considering she’s almost twenty four, and they all live in one house”.

“They’re millenials. It’s normal for us”.

“You don’t live with your mum”.

“Yeah, because I don’t talk with my mum. So, is her family crazy?”

“They sure look lame. Hopps papa seems to have complete control over his daughters. Obsessive type”.

“Oh, god. What if he really is the bad guy?”

“They’re a bunch of boring Christians. Martha is not even that pretty”, Damon clicked his tongue and started looking for the table with the punch. “I think her sister, Laura, is way more interesting”.

“Who cares”, Y/N said tiredly. She felt awful for spying on Mal’s girlfriend, second-handedly. “What you think. Let’s go find something to drink”.

“What do you mean, find?” the vampire went indignant in a moment, “didn’t you organize the whole thing?”

“I did, but Caroline moved all the tables in the morning. I didn’t manage to monitor everything”.

Together, they moved through the crowd, floating like two ships in the sea of shaking heads. Damon led Y/N by the elbow to keep her on her feet, because In Too Deep came on, and the crowd went wild. Mal was still flirting with Cindy/Sandy as they left. Minutes later, Damon abandoned Y/N at the table, to observe and have fun, and set off to look for the guy.

His face was showing in the crowd here and there, shooting Y/N glances of confusion. Mal seemed to have vanished, and the vampire couldn’t find him anywhere. He shook his head in amazement; the music was irritating him. He listened to different stuff; Salvatore’s heart belonged specifically to indie rock of the latter decade. For some unknown reason. In a way, Damon was an essence of the Mystic Falls town.

Soon, Damon disappeared, too, leaving her behind. She didn’t mind much; they kind of fell out in these last months. Y/N knew that Damon always had her back regardless, but they just didn’t talk much these days.

A song came in, the kind of it, that usually makes you see yourself from aside, standing alone, at the table with beer and punch, while everybody grabs their dancing partners by the waists. The sick lamp went from orange to pink even, and then an interesting turquoise shade flooded the hall; people all looked like sparkling fish, in their hats and pins and bright ribbons.

Something pushed her in the back, and moved the table, and Y/N jumped off just in time not to be stepped on.

Mal came round the table. He looked troubled, and his hair was ruffled. There was an even blush on his cheeks, making him look like he was no more than nineteen.

“Is that sex hair, Mal?” Y/N snorted, refusing to empathize with his wild gaze.

“She’s here”, Mal uttered, “dance with me”.

They took each other by the hands. Y/N downed her cup and threw it back on the table. Mal combed his hair with one hand, looking above her shoulder, and pulled her closer to himself.

“Who’s here?”

“Martha”, he said without expression. The eyes on his face were incredible, pulsating, like he was extremely horny, or very distressed; Y/N saw eyes like that on vampires after they’ve just eaten. His hands and face, on the opposite, were sturdy, mechanical.

I gave her my heart, she didn’t want it,

Took it anyway, put a dark spell on it,

Since then I haven’t been the same…                              

He looked down at Y/N like he’s just realized he was holding her.

“Go talk to her. Or nah?”

“Nah. I have nothing to say to her”.

“Really?” she went on with distrust.

“She doesn’t know I’m here”.

“You mentioned. You think she’ll scream or something?”

He snorted. His eyes warmed up just a little.

“Nobody’ll hear her. It’s a loud party”.

Mal put his hand on Y/N shoulder and let it rest.

“You’re a good friend”.

“Been training for years. Still not sure though”.

“I think I saw Demi here”.

“Who?”

“Your ex-crush whom I disapprove”.

“Dude”, she grinned, “he left”.

“Very impressive individual. Masculinity and bulllshit oozing out of him. God, his balls must be huge. Looked like he wanted to chat, but I Houdinied the fuck away”.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, unable to stop herself from picturing everything he said. Mal was not completely wrong, and yet, the way he spoke about the older Salvatore was so poisonous you could die from listening too closely.

“Don’t like him, huh”.

“Don’t know him”, he nodded, “don’t really care. Just don’t let him hurt you. Why would he leave you alone? even I understand it’s not nice”.

“He didn’t come here to dance”.

“Why then?”

“Masculine stuff. Wanted to talk to somebody. Or check up on me. I don’t know”.

“Uhh, Y/N”, Mal sighed, sincerely enough. She got a desire to give him a hug, like a human, as a friend. Just because she hasn’t hugged anybody for a while. Because it’s been a month, and they got pretty close, attracted to each other like two wandering bog lights. So, she just did it. Wrapping her arms around him, Y/N pulled him close, and laid her head on his shoulder. Mal didn’t push her away, but the song ended, so they just stood. Mal smelled like candy again, and his skin, clean and white, had a trace of female perfume. Y/N didn’t know what to make of him. She wasn’t really jealous. She wasn’t really anxious. Their embrace existed outside their world. Mal still smelled of trouble. Y/N never for a second supposed that there wasn’t something utterly and vividly wrong with this guy. She just didn’t care enough.

“All that heart trouble”, Mal said suddenly, “just makes me wanna dance. Let’s get smashed. It’s Good Charlotte, isn’t it?”

“Back it up now, you’ve got a reason to live. Say, I don’t wanna be in love”.

“I like me a gal who knows all the lyrics to all the shitty songs”, Mal grinned wide, and they separated a little, but did not leave each other’s sight.

“This song is not shitty”.

“Nah”, Mal yelled, as the dynamic, loud part of the verse started, “some music is crap, and it’s good. Remember the motto of your favorite dudes”.

Y/N laughed. A little bit more of music, less light, and they were dancing like monkeys, waving their hands and thrashing their heads, a couple of happy, careless children. They managed to trick the whole college into listening Metro Station for fifteen minutes straight.

[cooperjones2020]

What’s Past is Prologue, What to Come, pt. 5

Summary: He wanted to hit whoever made Betty cry. He wanted to hit Betty so she’d keep crying. Interrelated vignettes from Jughead Jones’s obsession with Betty Cooper. Dark!Jug, Creepy!Jug, Stalker!Jug, generally Sociopathic!Jug.

A/N: Do we know when Betty’s birthday is? For the sake of this chapter, we’re going to pretend it’s in the summer/near the summer.

TW: implied violence, baby Jug being a sociopath (for this chapter specifically, check the other tags on ao3)

(parts one, two, three, and four)

ao3—>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11394858/chapters/26649090

“This is how my dad had his Jason Blossom murder board before it was trashed.” Kevin pushed a pin into the cork board and turned around. They were in the Blue and Gold office during their lunch break, Betty dragging Kevin into what was normally their time together. But, if it helped the case, he supposed he could put up with it.

“Any leads on who did that? And what they were looking for?” Jughead asked, before returning to chewing on his thumb nail.

“Nope. No fingerprints.” Kevin moved to face Betty. “But they stole a bunch of files, background checks, and all the video and audiotapes of police interviews.”

Before she could respond, Jughead heard the sound of the doorknob turning. His head whipped to meet the new intrusion before Betty or Kevin did. Trev Brown leaned in.

“Oh. Hey, Betty.” He gave an awkward little wave and smiled at her. Everyone smiled at her.

“Trev, hi.” Betty stood up, pulling down the back of her sweater. Her back was turned to Jughead, but he could hear the happiness in her voice.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay. We’re just, ah, working on—”

“Our murder board.” Jughead couldn’t resist. He raised his eyebrows and stared at Trev til the other boy blinked.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Absolutely. It’s a date.” Jughead felt all the blood drain to his feet. “I mean, I’ll—I’ll see you there. Bye.”

“Uh, see you.” Trev backed out of the room, still smiling at Betty.

“Uh, bye.”

“Going on a date with Trev. Does Mama Cooper know about that?” For the second time that day, and ever, Jughead had a reason to be thankful to Kevin Keller. He wouldn’t have been able to put into so many words. Or any words. A toneless roar filled his chest cavity.

“Kev, I’m not on house arrest,” Betty spluttered. “Okay, she’s out of town at a Women in Journalism spa retreat. Anyway, I mean—it’s not a ‘date’ date.” Betty moved toward the back of the room, away from the two of them.

He found his words. “You just called it a date. You literally said, ‘It’s a date.’” This was the most stereotypical conversation he’d ever been a part of.

“That’s just my cover. Really it’s an intelligence gathering mission. We should focus on the one thing we have access to that your dad doesn’t—the kids at Riverdale High. You know, maybe Trev knows something about Jason he didn’t think was important.”

So Jughead let her talk him down, let her suck him back into the case until he could ignore the voice inside him that wanted to hit something. Mostly because he didn’t have another choice in the moment. He could feel his heartbeat in the air around them.

One year, Betty got an American girl doll for her birthday. For over a month beforehand, she had subjected Jughead to repeated viewings of the catalogue—Archie wouldn’t sit still long enough to make it past the first couple of pages. She’d gotten a Truly Me doll. And it was truly her, right down to the blonde hair and green eyes and the silly pink sweater it wore.

For a few weeks, she took the doll with her everywhere. It accompanied them to the playground and the woods. It even came on the day trip to the beach Mr. and Mrs. Andrews planned. She’d annoyed Jughead that day. She wouldn’t swim with him. She insisted the Betty doll couldn’t get wet, and instead sat on a towel brushing the doll’s hair.

He’d never been to the beach before. He couldn’t swim like Archie. Normally when he was scared, Betty was there to hold his hand without him having to tell her. He didn’t know how to tell her. So he stood in the water up to his waist and watched Archie splash in the waves and Betty sit on the sand. He tried to play catch with Archie and Mr. Andrews but he wasn’t good at throwing. Every time he tried to get out, to go sit with Betty, Mrs. Andrews would shoo him back toward the shoreline, telling him Betty was okay and he should swim. He knew she was okay. He wasn’t.

Betty had broken the unspoken rules that gave him order and made up for all the things that happened when he wasn’t with her and Archie.

Then one day, Archie told him Betty was grounded. She’d lost her Betty doll. Archie had been able to hear the sound of Mrs. Cooper yelling right through his front windows.

That night, when his dad had passed out and his mom had locked herself in the bedroom with his sister and a blaring television set, Jughead snuck out of the front door of the trailer. He slid through the darkness back to Archie’s house. He had a knack for opening the gate silently and creeping along the fence line so Vegas wouldn’t hear him and bark. He scurried up the ladder and catapulted his backpack into the treehouse ahead of him. Once inside, he crouched on his heels and pulled out the Nancy Drew binoculars and his pocket knife.

Betty sat on her bed, reading a book. Her nose looked swollen. Betty being grounded wasn’t a new occurrence, but it was one Jughead always took full advantage of. It was his favorite of Alice Cooper’s regular rotation of punishments. When she was grounded, she was easier to watch. He always knew where she was. He always knew she was safe. Alice Cooper may have yelled but she never did anything more.

He wanted to keep Betty safe so no one could hurt her. So no one else could hurt her. But him. He didn’t want her to hurt a lot. Not a lot. Just enough for her face to turn red and the tears to well up. Sort of like she looked like now. Like when his father grabbed his mother’s wrist too tightly. Not a lot, just a little.

He reached back into his backpack and pulled out the Betty doll. Her hair was all messed up from being inside the bag. He used his fingers to smooth it out. He turned her upside down and watched the little plastic eyelids open and shut.

Then he balanced her on his knee and pulled her skirt so it bunched with the pink sweater. He picked up his pen knife with his other hand and carved a crown into the Betty doll’s plastic thigh.

The worst thing about hope was that it grew like a weed. Since he’d found her diary, Betty Cooper had consumed even more of his thoughts, waking and asleep. He was right when he thought she was getting better after Archie gave her feelings back to her. But he hadn’t foreseen the other things the journal would tell him, the ways it would rearrange the pieces of her in his mind. He also hadn’t foreseen Trev Brown. Trev Brown did not fit with those new pieces.

And so, he had to make sure Trev Brown did not screw those pieces up. Not when he’d just begun to probe their meaning. So, he sat in his usual booth in the diner, laptop out, headphones on. No music playing.

Betty waved at him when she came in, Trev holding the door behind her. She looked so beautiful in her soft pink sweater—a new one, he noticed. And her lips were a few shades darker, a little shiny looking. He couldn’t decide if he was angry she’d dressed up for her not-date or thankful that he got to see her. So he kept his headphones in and pretended he didn’t notice her wave. Then she sat with her back to him in a booth two rows up.

Perfect. Just close enough that he could eavesdrop.

After a few minutes of small talk that made Jughead want to eat his napkin, Trev said, “I think it’s great what you guys are doing for Jason.” Here we go. He hunched forward so it would look like he was typing away furiously, but really it brought his head that much closer to the back of Betty’s.

“You two were on the water polo team together. Were you guys close?”

Trev leaned forward at that point and dropped his voice, so Jughead couldn’t hear what he said. But Betty’s voice rang clear as crystal in his ear. He was pretty sure he could be dead and he’d still hear Betty’s voice.

“Do you know why?”

“I thought it was about your sister, to be honest. They’d been dating a few weeks when he changed.” Jughead risked a glance up from his computer to see Trev’s face. He looked like a kicked puppy, desperate and nauseating.

“Changed? In what way?”

“We stopped hanging out. He wouldn’t call me back, and then—” Jughead couldn’t hear what Trev said next, but he saw Betty’s ponytail swish back and forth. “Anything he could sell for cash, he was hawking.” Trev’s volume had increased, but now it dropped to a whisper.

The next thing Jughead could make out was Betty saying, “And all of this started after Jason and Polly got together?”

Over the edge of his laptop, Jughead saw Trev nod. Bingo. He knew Polly was involved. Now he just had to look surprised when Betty told him.

Betty stayed for another forty-five minutes or so. Not that he looked at the clock. They talked about school and sports and Betty’s work to restart the paper. What Jughead supposed normal teenagers usually talked about.

After they paid their bill, Trev offered to walk her home but she demurred, saying her mom was expecting her at the Register. When Trev got up to leave, Betty flicked a glance at him before going to the bathroom. Any other day, he would have gotten her silent signal to stay. That Alice wasn’t expecting her. That she was waiting for him. Any other day and he would have rooted himself into the cracked vinyl of the booth, ready to plant himself until Betty released him.

But not today.

Jughead quickly closed his laptop and stowed it in his bag. As soon as the door to the diner had closed behind Trev, he hazarded a glance at the door to the women’s bathroom. It was still firmly shut. So Jughead slid out of the booth and hurried after Betty’s not-date.

Trev Brown wouldn’t be bothering them again.

[lukeysgirl]

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.2

Part T W O 

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 2.5k+

AN: yay, next part! im hoping to make this series as intriguing as possible, so please do bear with me! i know it’s starting pretty slow, but i wanna develop this story well enough for your lovely minds! please do get it at 100 notes please, as it delays the quickness of releasing parts xx please enjoy this one ! 

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E 

Tuesday

“Y/N!” You felt defeated, listening as Savannah exclaimed words to you at the lick of 8 A.M. The two of you resided in the library, as first period was typically a literacy hour for seniors. The library was like Belle’s fairy tale, the entirety of it coming straight out of Beast’s castle. The entire library was circular, with 2 floors worth of dark oak shelves of books. In the center of it all, first floor, resided the desk where the librarians sat with boredom. There were students already ornate inside, keeping quite with several works of literature sprawled along the rectangular desks provided. 

“It’s too fucking early,” you muttered, keeping in mind to be quiet as you were in the library. Every Tuesday morning, you took up the job of getting the books left to collect dust on the desks and place them back in their appropriate shelf. “Can’t be bothered to talk about this right now.” 

“Des said there were no notes on that tree yesterday!” Savannah began, repeating yesterdays ‘eventful’ news to you. “This is specifically for you!” A librarian suddenly appeared at one of the aisles of shelves and shushed Savannah. She sheepishly muttered an apology before trailing you once more. 

“Or maybe we got the wrong timing of the song,” you mumbled, spewing out a possibility. You didn’t admit you were right about it anyways. 

“I thought you said it wasn’t a hard song to decipher,” Savannah mocked. You rolled your eyes, rolling the cart of books as you parked it by another table. You began gathering the books sprawled on them, checking the checkouts before placing them on the cart. “Y/N, you’re the one to receive those notes.” 

“Oh no, how tragic,” you sarcastically mumbled, reading the checkout of a book to see the dates. You placed it on the developing stack of books you were creating. “This stalker should’ve chosen someone who actually gives a shit.” 

“Secret admirer,” Savannah corrected. “Also, he probably didn’t have a choice. He probably fell for you without even trying, Y/N. It must be his destiny to chase you.” You sighed, leaning across the desk to ask a seated kid if he was reading the book that was just sat there. He nodded no, having you nod before grabbing the book. 

“Man, you won’t let up,” you groaned, pushing the cart towards the CD area of the library. Although it’s only a series of book audios and music, people tend to leave books on the desks as well. “How about go be useful and find the other two? They’re probably on the second floor.” Savannah nodded, rushing away from you as her skirt danced from the sudden velocity. 

Relief washed over you as you slowly entered the section. You found several students with headphones plugged into CD or cassette players. You tried your best not to distract them as you found books just spread all over vacant tables. You checked out 7 of them before firmly placing them on your cart. You then saw one book that caught your attention. 

Everything, Everything. 

It was currently one of your favorite books. The entirety of the story sent goosebumps all around your arms every time. You loved the way the author captured love between a boy who was outside by choice and a girl who was sheltered in by force. And the fact of the matter was that you were going to read it again. 

You opened up the book to the very first page, just for your breath to be taken away. 

The entirety of it was covered by white post-it notes. With each one, there was part of a whole drawing made with what looked like paint. You held the book up and a bit far from you to widen your eyes even more. It was a cherry tree, one of the richest hues of pinks and browns. You didn’t know what to say or think, looking around to see anyone suspicious. But there was no such face. 

Checking the checkout paper of the book, you saw that it was as well covered in a white post-it note. And it read: Why won’t you come to the tree, Y/N?

You blinked, removing the note real quick to stuff it in your pocket. You looked around once more before turning the page of the book. You flipped through the rest of them, seeing slivers of white on the first 10 pages before returning to the one you stopped at. 

Before anything, I just wanna admit how grateful I am that you opened the book. 

Turn page. 

I love this book, and I hope I don’t sound too insane, but I wish we were them. 

Turn page. 

Olly can freely be outside whereas Maddy was forced to be inside. 

Turn page. 

But for us, it’s the twisted opposite. 

Turn page. 

You choose to shelter yourself away from others while I’m stuck on the outside, desperate for an entrance. 

Turn page. 

I just want to dive into you, Y/N. 

Turn page.

I want to see you at your most embarrassed moments. 

Turn page. 

I want to listen to you sing when you listen to your favorite band. 

Turn page. 

I want to see you dance while cleaning up your room. 

Turn page. 

I want you to become my everything, everything. 

You quickly removed the notes from the book, cautiously putting them in order as you stuffed them into your pocket. You didn’t even know what to think. But it was obvious this boy has had his eyes on you for a long while. He must be a stalker-- knowing what books you like, knowing when you steal insignificant items. 

As you continued your book checking, you began gathering several aspects of this case to get closer to knowing who this person was. It was obvious that this person had to be in your year, seeing as you barely interacted with the lower grades, let alone anybody else in your class other than your best friends. This person also is musically talented, seeing as he wrote a song and plays guitar. He also must have a fairly fluent schedule to be tying notes to a tree fairly far away. Also being able to sing that song during your English class provokes some curiosity. 

Fuck, you thought as you slammed a book closed. Why am I thinking about this so much? I don’t care! You huffed your way through your library job, just on time to go to your next class. 

“Y/N, he’s asking you to be his everything, everything!” Savannah whispered cheerily, having you groan as you dragged your eyes left to right on your text book. History had been the only class you shared with all the girls, having it be the hardest class to focus on due to their hyperactive energy as a whole. “How can you not go insane over this?” 

You rolled your eyes, glancing up from your read to see Savannah’s ecstatic face before you. You 4 had always put your desks together, having you be in front of Savannah, next to Alexis, and diagonal to Des. You looked up at Savannah, seeing as her blonde hair danced down until the tips had touched her desk. 

“He’s some creepy stalker, Sav,” you whispered, diverting your eyes back down to the page. “I don’t care for stalkers.” 

“So then you won’t go to the tree because you’re scared?” Alexis dared to test, having you look up and blink at her once. “Someone who wants to break through to your shell?” 

“Alexis, fear is a social construct,” you began quietly, turning the page to the topic of World War II. Some of your black nail polished chipped on the page. “Anyways, they obviously don’t know what they’re getting into.” 

“They do if they’ve accepted the challenge,” Alexis began, having you feel your heart skip one beat. “You just have to close the books and take the chance.” 

It was absurd in your head. The idea of someone attempting to approach you. The brainiac of the year, the girl who cares more for literature than love. It’s not like you asked to be an overachiever anyways. Many people misunderstand you, hence why your friend group is handpicked wisely. 

“This boy won’t like me once he sees my colors,” you spoke briefly, turning another page. Des was quick to look at you and grab your hand, feeling how smooth it was. She smelled of coconuts today, probably from that new Chanel perfume Savannah had bought her. 

“You’ll never know if you keep him in the black and white, Y/N,” Odessa said calmly. You were hesitant, but looked up from the textbook to see your friend. She had a soft expression, giving you a reassuring smile. “He wants to mean something to you, more than these black and white books.” 

“How do I know he’d want my colors then?” You asked her, pure curiosity dawning you. 

“Because,” Des began, her smile much wide now to reveal her clean, white teeth. “You must’ve been a different shade he’s never seen before.” 

Today’s lyrics were ‘be my everything, everything.’ 

The song was especially provoking your mind today as you entered your Anatomy class. Luke, of course, wasn’t present just yet. So you took it to yourself to open your notebook and stick all your notes onto the last page of it. You didn’t want it to crumple anywhere, so surely your notebook was the best idea. 

“Why does he want someone like me?” You whispered to yourself, forgetting that you were now in a loud, but crowded, classroom. 

“Why does who want someone like you?” You blinked a few times before tilting your head slightly up. You were taken aback to find Luke’s face just a few inches from yours. His elbows planted on the table, with his hands used to keep that stupid head up. But his eyes were consuming you in a trance you didn’t ask for. 

“How about putting that curiosity into anatomy, Luke?” You scoffed, looking to see a substitute take a seat at Ms. Lee’s desk. You were already disappointed, frowning at the obviously nervous substitute as you rose from your seat. 

“My priorities are ordered differently than what you’d like, Y/N, sorry,” Luke said, zero sympathy on his tongue as he trailed you. You walked over to the desk without a word, picked up the assignment stack and began to hand them out. “So anyways, someone likes you?” 

“It’s none of your business, Hemmings,” you began, quieting down to give him the cue to lower his voice as well. 

“Why do you choose to be so cold like this?” Luke asked in a hush tone as you handed out the work to a duo table. You glanced over at him, seeing his lanky figure bend to meet his head with yours. His hands were stuffed him those skinny jeans pockets as he trailed you. You also notice pairs of eyes now watching you due to the blonde boy’s presence around you. 

“It’s not that I choose to be cold or am cold anyways,” you said quietly while hanging out more of the papers. “I’m just not focused on that sorta stuff right now.” 

“What, love?” Luke announced ponderously. You choked. Halting, you look over at Luke and give him a good stare. His eyebrows were a little tilted, but going upward towards the middle of the two. His ocean eyes glowed, but there was a dullness in it that was obvious. As of recently, you could tell that they no longer shine like they used to. Attending school with him for a good 3 years made you awful familiar with his expressions and change of mood. 

“I wouldn’t call it love at all,” you began with a shrug, looking away as you entered the other aisle of tables. “It’s just a small, stupid crush out of pure boredom, I’m sure.” 

“How do you know how another person feels about you?” Luke began. “I mean, it’s their feelings, not yours. So how do you know the level of how much they care about you?” 

“For once thing, they’re a secret admirer, therefore a stalker too shy to confront me,” you muttered quietly. “So they obviously don’t care as much if they’re just hiding their identity. Probably for their own little cruel joke or something.” 

“Or maybe they love you too much to reveal themselves to you,” Luke suggested. You looked over at the blonde boy, seeing as he was distantly looking down at the beige tiles. His bottom lip was pushed out, shiny with a layer of Blistex smacked on it. “They don’t want to disappoint you, maybe, with who they are.” 

You studied Luke for a good moment. His ocean eyes were now soft, no longer stern or really curious. They were wandering off, probably lost in some sort of thought. His face was just staring wistfully to the ground, like his very own words caught him speechless. And, you could admit it to yourself, too: his words were of pure sentiment. 

“Hemmings,” you began as you handed the final sheets of paper to the shared table of you and Luke’s. “D’you reckon you can do me a favor?” 

“What does it consist of?” Luke asked as he took a seat beside you. You looked down at the sheet of paper, focused on it fairly well while holding the conversation you began with Luke. He began tapping the table with the tips of his rough fingers. 

“So my secret admirer/stalker happens to be musically inclined,” you began, having his tapping stop as he studied you intensely. “And I don’t know shit about lyric meaning too well, so I was wondering if you could... um...” 

“...Figure out the meaning for you?” Luke finished, having you nod as you began filling out the sheet. You grabbed the note with the lyrics from your notebook (credits to Des, of course) and handed it over to Luke. You explained to him what you had so far, noticing his attentiveness with nods and ‘mm.’ You gave him most of the period to read it, allowing you to finish the work as he did. 

“So did we go wrong anywhere, or?” You asked, having Luke begin to open his mouth to utter words, But before he could, the dismissal bell rang as all the students, including the sub, flooded out of the room. As you packed your things, Luke was quick to place his hand on top of yours to stop you, feeling the mountains of arid callouses of his hand. 

“Wait up for a few minutes?” Luke suggested, having you reluctantly nod as all your classmates poured out of the classroom. As you zipped your book bag closed, you noticed Luke swiftly go to the door and close it. He even taped a piece of paper over the small glass window of the door. 

“You could tell me tomorrow, you know,” you said simply, taking a seat on the table rather than the chair as he slowly walked up to you. Luke grinned, taking a seat beside you on the desk. 

“I would, but I know you wouldn’t want to use any more energy on me within the span of 2 days,” Luke began. “So I might as well get this over with so you can be done speaking with me.” 

“O-oh, yeah...” You stuttered. Although you didn’t care for Luke Hemmings and his wild antics, you couldn’t help but falter from his words. You knew how careless you were, but you didn’t realize you let off such a cold aura. 

“Anyways, this guy probably wants you to leave right at the beginning to lunch,” Luke began, having you frown in confusion as you watched his blue eyes study the sticky note. “Eat before three could be eat but not at lunch, considering how long it takes to go to the tree then back to the school.”

“How did you get that conclusion from just 3 words?” You asked, pure curiosity rolling off your tongue as you stared at the perfectly chiseled jawline of the boy. You watched as he let out a simple sigh, his rose lips slightly parted to breathe calmly. 

“It’s only a guess, just like yours,” Luke said simply. He handed the note back to you without meeting your eyes. He stuffed his hands back in his pockets as you shoved the note in your pocket. “You’ll never know until you try.” 

“What if my attempts prove to be vain?” You said quietly, watching as Luke stood from the desk and slowly began for the door. His curls danced with his movements with ease, shining a dirty yellow from the after school sun. He freed one of his hands to let sit on the shiny, gold doorknob. But he stood there, with a smile forming on his lips. 

“Then remind yourself of August,” Luke said quietly, looking over to give you a soft gaze. “Let me know how it goes if you go to the tree.” And with that, Luke Hemmings had escaped through the door, ripping the paper off of the window before he took his exit. 

“Popular schmaltz,” you murmured, holding your face with one hand as you felt blood surge right up your cheeks. 

please do give me any sort of feedback or reactions right here and ill see ya the next part x 

[yeaharrys]

Finding Finley / Chapter Three

“Oh Finley, when was the last time you seriously dated someone? You’re almost 24, I’m just trying to jump start something!”

“Wow, I didn’t know being 23 and single is a crime now.”

For Finley O'Connor, love comes second, much to her mother’s dismay. For Harry Styles, life couldn’t revolve without love. When the pair are set up on a blind date, they make a pact to help each other get the thing that is apparently missing from their lives. But how long will it take for them to realise what truly is missing?

A story about being 23, blind dates, and finding who you truly are.

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Chapter Three: The Friend Request

Saturday mornings were my favourite. It was my one of my only chances of being completely alone in my flat and therefore one of my only chances of solitude. So, despite the fact that I rolled into bed in a drunken state not long after midnight after walking home from the station, I still forced my tired self out of bed when my alarm chirped at 7am.

In theory, having a flatmate seems like an awesome idea. You have someone to split rent and bills costs, someone to help with the household chores, someone to come home to. In practice, however, it's not so simple. Alice was my flatmate, and calling her intense would be putting it lightly. I found her advertisement for a flatmate in the local paper and on a whim decided to follow up on it. The flat was great, good location and spacious. I signed on to the one year lease with her almost immediately. This is something I would come to regret in the following weeks.

Alice was a clean freak. A no-food-in-the-bedroom, no-drinks-without-a-coaster, no-items-in-the-cupboard-without-a-label type of clean freak. And while it was endearing at first, five months later and I was almost always on edge when I was at home. One thing out of place, and Alice would be shooting me daggers and making my life all that much crappier for the rest of the week. So, that's why I came to cherish Saturday mornings. Alice always worked the Saturday morning shift at one of the local cafés so that meant I had until 12pm to relax around the flat before going to hole myself up in my room for the rest of the week, the only relatively Alice-free zone.

I shuffled into the immaculately clean kitchen and grabbed the loaf of sliced bread from the freezer (labelled WHOLEGRAIN, EXP: 18 SEP 2017) and threw two pieces into the toaster before boiling some water. A good cup of tea would immediately scrub the hazy state my mind was currently in. Whilst I wasn't hungover, the shots last night meant I woke up with a small ache in the back of my head. The lack of sleep probably didn't help either.

Once my tea was sufficiently brewed and my toast coated in peanut butter (EXP: 11 JAN 2018), I settled myself on the lounge and pulled up my laptop. The real reason I loved Saturday mornings so much was that it was one of my only peaceful, distraction-free times to write. Script writing to be specific. It started as a topic of interest when I began to expand my film watching horizons as a teen, and three elective classes at uni later had me hooked. I was completely enamoured with the fact that every great movie started with a great script. Whilst it was just a hobby, I couldn't help but love crafting and blocking out scenes of my wildest imaginations. And whilst writing had become an important part of my life, I preferred to keep my hobby on the down low. This made those few hours of being home alone all that more precious. These past few weeks I had been re-working my own version of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. After spending a lonely Friday night watching it on Netflix I was struck with inspiration and decided to take the characters into my own hands.

Whilst munching on my toast, I clicked through and deleted any unimportant emails, checked my iMessage as I couldn't be bothered getting my phone from my bedside table and logged onto Facebook. I made it a point to check my social media, mainly as my mum insisted on tagging me in as many posts as possible and if I didn't promptly reply I would have a phone call from her asking why I was ignoring her.

This morning there was only 2 notifications. And, to my surprise, a friend request. I clicked on the illuminated red (1) and audibly laughed when I saw who it was. Harry Styles. I pressed accept without hesitation, and against better judgement, clicked onto his profile.

I caught myself smiling as his full profile loaded up. His profile picture featured him grinning cheekily at the camera, his arm thrown around a boy with blonde hair who was gripping a pint of beer. I scrolled down his page, various photos and posts littering his wall. I saw the same three or four faces cropping up with Harry, it definitely looked like he had a close knit group of friends.

I had scrolled all the way back to 2014 when I saw a picture of Harry with a girl. A quick glance at who was tagged confirmed that it was Isabel. Gorgeous was an understatement. Her hair, a light shade of brown with a perfect amount of golden highlights, was cascading down over one of her shoulders. She was wearing a simple red dress, but on her it looked tailor made. It was a candid shot, both of them looking into each others eyes with their faces split into laughing grins. You could feel the love radiating from them both just from looking at the photo. It was almost hard to believe that two years later they would be broken up.

I was just about to close the tab when a message box popped up at the bottom of the page. I almost spilt my tea when I saw who it was, like he knew I had just spent the past 20 minutes thoroughly combing through his Facebook profile.

Harry Styles: well hello there, early riser

I chuckled to myself, my fingers hovering over the keys as I formulated a response.

Finley O'Connor: hello stranger. same can be said to you, i'm surprised you are awake after all those shots

Harry Styles: you may be shocked to hear that i can actually handle my alcohol

Harry Styles: i was almost afraid you weren't going to accept my friend request

Finley O'Connor: i'll be honest, i almost didn't accept based on the fact that you had already found my profile without me even telling you my full name last night. stalker abilities on point?

Harry Styles: hahahaha

Harry Styles: i will also be honest, i knew your last name before we even met last night. your aunty basically gave my mum your birth certificate lol

Harry Styles: i also may have stalked you on fb before last night. felt like i shouldnt add you until i met you though, didn't want to be a creep

Finley O'Connor: ah, so that's how you knew who i was when i walked in last night. creep status has definitely achieved

Harry Styles: oh don't act like you havent just been stalking my profile

Harry Styles: i know i have on yours. did you enjoy tea at the langham last month?

I laughed. At least I felt a little better about my shameless Facebook stalking.

Finley O'Connor: omg

Finley O'Connor: how do i block people on facebook???

Finley O'Connor: just kidding. i scrolled back to 2014 so beat that

I decided to move from the lounge to my favourite writing spot, the dining table. At this time of the morning, the sun was always at the perfect angle to warm my back as I typed away. I settled into the chair, opening up the Word Doc containing my work in progress. Before I could type a word though, the Facebook message tone blipped.

Harry Styles: find anything interesting?

I contemplated for a moment whether I should mention the Isabel photo. Considering how candid Harry ended up being about his relationship last night, I figured it wasn't unapproachable territory.

Finley O'Connor: yes, actually. an old photo of you and isabel

I stared expectantly at the small chat box, waiting for the dots to appear to signify he was responding. The seconds ticked by and I began chewing my lip. Perhaps a wrong move? I clicked back to my half written script, trying not to fixate on something so small. However, when the message tone pinged again a couple minutes later, I scrambled to click back to the page.

Harry Styles: yeah there's still a few photos scattered through there, ones she hasn't deleted yet anyways

I didn't know how to respond. I could sense it was still a touchy subject, not that I blamed him. But, he ended up responding for me.

Harry Styles: speaking of....

Harry Styles: we're you serious about what you suggested last night? i know we were both a little tipsy...

I raised my eyebrows. I had forgotten about the drunken pact we had made on the Croydon platform late last night. I actually had some second-hand embarrassment from the idea I had hatched, why did I even think it was a good idea?

Finley O'Connor: oh that pact thing? we don't actually have to do that lol. just a bit of a laugh you know

Harry Styles: what?? no i already have someone in mind to set you up with

Now it was my turn to delay a response. Was he being serious? Was this something I should actually involve myself into? I mean, I had met Harry once and all of the sudden I'm supposed to trust his taste in men for me? And on top of that, he's supposed to trust me to help him win back his ex-girlfriend? I was half-wishing I could've just kept my drunken mouth shut last night.

Harry Styles: hello?? fin?????

Finley O'Connor: i mean.... if you're really serious about it, then sure

I hoped I wasn't going to live to regret this.

Harry Styles: brilliant

Harry Styles: wanna grab a coffee? discuss logistics??

My eyes flickered over to the time displayed in the top left hand corner of my laptop. It had just ticked past 8am, meaning I had 4 hours of non-Alice time ahead of me. Coffee would cut into that. I sighed as I clicked back over to my half-written script, my eyes skimming over the last few lines I had typed out. I guess I could miss my writing session for one week.

Finley O'Connor: have somewhere in mind?

apologies for a short chapter, i decided to split it up, hopefully this wasn’t too boring for you?? let me know your thoughts! thanks for reading :)

[ahnminhyk]

capsize. - chapter 4: the colours

Fandom: Skam Pairing: Noora Sætre x William Magnusson Soulmates AU (Romantic and Platonic)

What was Noora supposed to do now? Under normal circumstances, she might try to get to know the person, maybe see if it was worth a shot. But that person was William. And she couldn't just go after him, for a variety of reasons. First of all, she didn't like him at all. From everything she'd heard from Vilde, he sounded arrogant and selfish and insanely spoiled. Not exactly her type. And secondly, Vilde. They'd ended up having sex after all, even after the big reveal for the both of them, which just went to show how much he probably believed in the whole thing anyway. But Noora couldn't do that to Vilde, especially since it was clear that her infatuation with William was not going away any time soon.  

Read on ao3

What was Noora supposed to do now? Under normal circumstances, she might try to get to know the person, maybe see if it was worth a shot. But that person was William. And she couldn't just go after him, for a variety of reasons. First of all, she didn't like him at all. From everything she'd heard from Vilde, he sounded arrogant and selfish and insanely spoiled. Not exactly her type. And secondly, Vilde. They'd ended up having sex after all, even after the big reveal for the both of them, which just went to show how much he probably believed in the whole thing anyway. But Noora couldn't do that to Vilde, especially since it was clear that her infatuation with William was not going away any time soon. 

It'd been two weeks since that encounter at Eva's house, and despite his clear signs of disinterest, she kept pursuing him. Noora thought the was no way Vilde could come out of this unscathed, but she wasn't about to contribute to her pain. The whole situation was messy, and she didn't want any part of it. It was best for everyone if Noora just stayed away.

So she made a decision. She would just ignore it. She didn't need a soulmate anyway. Look at where it'd gotten her parents, after all. She was just fine pretending the whole thing had never happened. Everything was exactly the same. Except now, she could see colour.

It took some getting used to. She sometimes found herself staring at something she'd seen a thousand times before, but that looked totally different now. Eva was right. It was like rediscovering a world you already knew. That part excited Noora more than enough to compensate her lack of interest in her actual soulmate. She imagined revisiting Madrid now, see all the places she loved in an entirely new way.  

She pushed every thought of William out of her head and focused on that. She didn't want to think about him at all. She figured if she didn't think about him or acknowledge the whole thing, they would just go their separate ways and that'd be that. Not everyone stayed with their soulmate anyway. Some people just met theirs and things didn't work out, so they left each other alone. Being soulmates wasn't enough to make two people stay together. Noora wouldn't kid herself like that. And it wasn't like she wanted to spend her life with someone like William, even if he was supposed to be the one person the universe deemed was tailor-made for her. The universe didn't get to decide that.

"Do you like this shirt?" Eva asked her. They were in her room, Noora on the bed, and Eva sorting through her clothes. Noora looked up from her phone and looked at the item in question. She recognised the shape of it, but the colour not what she'd expected.  

"Oh," she let out. She thought she'd known more or less how it looked, but this was a surprise. She saw the confusion on Eva's face at her outburst, and was quick to remember that she was pretending not to see colours. "Huh, what colour is it?" It didn't make much of a difference. Noora wasn't supposed to know what any colour looked like.

Eva gave a little laugh at her reaction. "Huh, red. Why?"

Oh. So that was what red looked like. "No reason. Keep it, it's nice."

Eva gave her a weird look before going back to her closet. "Did you hear Vilde today? Talking about William on and on."

Noora rolled her eyes. She wished she hadn't. All they ever heard about these days was that name, that guy. It was hard to ignore his existence when she was reminded of it twenty times a day. "For someone who's so keen on finding a soulmate, she sounds pretty hung up on this guy." Noora couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for lying about William to her friends. But it was for the best.

"I don't see why her having a little fun is a bad thing. It's just sex."

"Is it? Because it seems to me she's just one creepy letter shy of stalker."

Eva laughed. "I'm sure it's not like that. It's just that she lost her virginity to him. You always get attached to that person."

"Yeah, but... Well, you've only had sex with Jonas. And he's your soulmate. That makes sense to me. Vilde doesn't."

"Yeah well, when does Vilde make sense to anyone, really?" Eva put a hanger back in her closet and turned to Noora, a slight frown on her face. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

Noora froze. "Care? I don't care. I mean, I do. About Vilde. I just feel like this could end badly."

Eva shrugged. "It's just sex, Noora. I know you don't get it, but you will when you have it."

Right. That didn't make her feel better.

The bell rang. Noora zoomed out of the classroom. Her mind was not in the right place for school, but thankfully the day was over. She headed for her locker to drop off her things, but ran into Vilde on the staircase landing. "Hey," she greeted.

Vilde was looking out the window at something outside, and was startled by Noora's voice. "Oh, hi."

Noora stopped beside her, trying to see what she was looking at. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just looking for William."

Noora raised an eyebrow. Oh, boy. "Why?"

Vilde looked at Noora. She could see in her face that she knew Noora wouldn't understand and would probably scold her, but still she said. "I really think we might have a good chance, you know. At being together. We just click, I don't know. You probably don't get it."

Noora scoffed. "Oh, I get it. I get that he's got you obsessing over him when he's probably not giving you the time of day. Honestly, Vilde, you can't do this to yourself. He won't just stop sleeping around for you, that's not how guys like him work."

Vilde physically deflated. Noora's shoulders sagged. And then she noticed the other's sweatshirt. The Penetrators logo jumped out at her. "Turn around," she ordered. Vilde frowned, but did it. Just as she expected, William's name was bolded on the back in red. It was even worse a sight than when she saw it on other girls in a darker shade of grey. "Vilde, why are you wearing that?" She didn't answer. "You can't just walk around wearing that sweatshirt hoping he'll notice. Dozens of other girls wear that on any given day. You're just walking around like a prize."

"I'm not a prize, Noora!" Vilde cried.

"I know that! But everyone else will only look at you and see yet another girl who slept with William. Do you really want that?" Noora knew she was probably being harsh. But she could see Vilde going down the rabbit hole fast, and she didn't want her to get hurt when she hit the ground. "He's not even your soulmate, Vilde. He's not just going to stop seeing other girls for you."

"He could be my soulmate, you don't know that. You can't see what I see," Vilde countered weakly.

"If he were, you would've been shouting it from the rooftops." Well that, and Noora already knew it for a fact he couldn't be. But she couldn't tell Vilde that. She just couldn't.

The girl sagged. "Yeah... You're right, I know you're right... But it's just... I just can't help but feel like if he doesn't want me, what makes me so sure my soulmate will, you know? It's not like you meet them and they're just forced to like you. It doesn't work like that."

Noora would know. "Listen, Vilde. You don't need him. And he can't give you what you're looking for. Not really. The right guy will give you everything, I promise."

Vilde looked at her and smiled weakly. After a while, she nodded. "Yeah. You're right."

Noora smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Of course I'm right."

"Eskild, come on, you've been in there for two hours!"

Noora stood by the door of the bathroom, waiting to go in. But when Eskild went in, he took over it completely for way longer than any human could possibly need a bathroom. She couldn't figure out what it was he did in there that could possibly take so much time. "Eskild!" She called again angrily.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out and saw a new message from an unknown sender. Opening it, she frowned at the contents.

Have you been avoiding me or something?

What the hell?

                                                                     Who is this?

Noora's heart raced at the thought of possible senders.

The reply didn't take long.

Your soulmate ;)

Wonderful. So, it wasn't a stalker. Just an asshole.

                                       How did you get my number???

I asked around.

A classmate of yours gave it to me.

Noora's brain worked through every person in her classes she'd given her number to, but no one jumped out.

                              Tell me their name. It appears I have                                   some contact management to do.

Come on. Won't you give me a chance?

She scoffed out loud.

                                                                   Why should I?

                                       You're sleeping with my friend.

Because apparently we're a perfect match.

And you'll have to be more specific.

Unbelievable.

                                                                              Please.

                                             We're NOT a perfect match.

                                          We're not even a match at all.

                                        We're polar opposites of every                                                  spectrum known to man.

The universe seems to disagree with you.  

Noora was practically slamming her fingers on the screen.

                                         Well then , screw the universe!

Playing hard to get, then?

                                                              One of us has to.

What's the point?  

                          The point is for you to leave me alone.

                                               I don't want to talk to you.

You can't just ditch me like this.

                                                                         Watch me.

And then, Noora blocked his number. She didn't need him texting her like that, trying to come after her. She didn't care he was supposedly her soulmate. The universe had made a mistake, and she didn't feel like dealing with it.

"Alright, I'm done!" Eskild called out as he opened the door.

"Finally!" Noora burst out angrily and stormed inside, slamming the door behind her.

"You're welcome! Jesus..." She heard Eskild say outside.

Why was she letting William get to her like this? Well, it didn't matter. She didn't plan on seeing him again, or talking to him, or texting him. She wanted nothing to do with him. Not one thing.