my notebook was just there and suddenly i had a pencil in my hand

hallelujah

Title: Hallelujah 
Pairing: Tyler/Reader
Rating: Mature
Warnings: CHURCHBOY TYLER. Dirty talk, daddy kink, shyness, needy!Tyler, fluffy shit, all sorts of fun I hope you’re gonna like.
A/N: You guys have been begging for this, so I worked it up as best as I could. I really hope you all like it, because it was fun to write.

Originally posted by lightninglime

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{Special}College!AU x K.A.R.D

no one asked for this,,,,but i love them,,,,support don’t recall + ohnana!!!! 

J.Seph 

  • major: poetry 
  • sports: swim team 
  • really wanted to join the poetry club,,,but he got to shy to show up to the first meeting and jiwoo was trying to drag him into the room but he was like noOOOOOooo 
  • for a literal poetry major,,,,,,,,he never has the nerve to share any of his stuff out loud. there was a poetry slam night on campus and everyone was like you should enter!!!!! but he like,,,,,couldn’t and in the end somin went up and read his work and it was BEAUTIFUL and everyone was like “you have such talent!!!” and she was like um,,,,,,,i didn’t write this it was - but when she tried to point him out it turned out he just fled and somin’s like dammit i thought jiwoo and matthew would keep him put
  • as shy as he is,,,,he still has a really nice aesthetic going on. very simple, casual but still fashionable and people always ask to take pictures of his outfit and face and he’s like ,,,,um,,,,,,,why,,,,,,,,,and they’re like “do you have instagram???” and he’s like yes but i don’t really use it,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
  • everyone thinks he’s hot but he’s oblivious to it basically
  • all his poems are about ,,,,, like ,,,,,,,,,, love,,,,,,and nature,,,,,,and like,,,,,,,crying in nature because you’re in love
  • he’s actually super emotional and deep but no one ever gets to know him because he’s really shy and tries not to talk much
  • even the members of his swim team are like “bro, you should tell us like your hobbies or your ideal type” and j.seph is like “,,,,,,,,,breathing is nice,,,,,”
  • and you had one class with j.seph on prose poetry,,,,,and even though he never shared out loud in class you had to do a group critic and ever since you read his poetry,,,,,,you had basically Fallen in Love
  • with his style, his flow, his choice of words,,,his voice in his poems is so strong and beautiful that you felt like you were looking at a painting and not words on a paper
  • and you’d begged him to submit something to the campus art journal but he had declined and it had left you heartbroken
  • but you didn’t give up,,,,even after your classes if you’d see him you’d be like !!!! hi i was wondering if you changed your mind-
  • but he’d just shake his head shyly and tell you that really, he couldn’t publish his work in the journal
  • and for a while you’d try to bug him when you saw him but you didn’t overdo it 
  • and at some point you had to give up because you didn’t want to come off creepy, even though you really at least wanted others to read and feel what you felt with his poems
  • and at some point you end up sharing a study table with somin and you know her as one of j.seph’s only friends and you’re like “hi,,,,this is going to sound weird but is j.seph,,,,,,,,,,not an open person?”
  • and she looks up from drawing and she’s like hmm what do you mean
  • and you tell her about the experience you had with his poetry and suddenly she seems really interested and she sets down her pencil and she’s like wait here!!!!
  • and about twenty minutes later she comes back holding a notebook and she’s like “ive had this for a long time, but it’s a poem i read by j.seph at a poetry slam a while ago. it’s the only poem i have of his but!!!! you could maybe publish it??? i really want him to be recognized by more people as a poet!!”
  • and you thank her and get all excited as you leave the building because omg the editor of the journal is going to LOVE it but then you try to read the poem,,,,,,,,,but you can’t bring yourself to do it,,,,,
  • like the words are right there waiting but you feel horrible because,,,,,you didn’t get j.seph’s consent. and it feels like you’re stealing from him
  • so you decide that you can’t publish it, instead you search the campus for him so you can return it
  • and you find him sitting on the steps outside of lecture hall and he’s writing aimlessly in his notebook and you’re like “um excuse me-”
  • and once he sees you he’s already like ‘im sorry, but i-” and you’re like i don’t want to bother you, but your friend gave me this ,,,,,,it’s yours though so im returning it. i didn’t read it by the way,,,,,
  • and when he takes the paper cautiously, opening it up he’s a bit shocked and he’s like “,,,,,,,it’s my poem” and you’re like yes and he’s like “wouldn’t you want to read this - you’re always asking me to show you my writing” and you shrug and you’re like “im asking you because poets should want to show off their writing. i have no right just looking at without your permission.”
  • and with that you bow your head in a goodbye but as you turn you suddenly feel his hand wrap around your wrist to stop you and you look over your shoulder
  • and j.seph is like “,,,,,,,,,,,,if you want,,,,,ill let you read this one.”
  • and your eyes light up and you take a seat beside him in such a hurry that you don’t notice that your so close your knees are brushing and you begin to read muttering the words to yourself
  • and j.seph is feeling a bit hot under the collar because you’re close and also reading,,,,,his work
  • and it’s a bit much for someone kind of closed off like him but when you look up all you can tell him is that you’re speechless. again. like when you first read his stuff
  • and j.seph’s ears turn red and he’s like AH don’t,,,,say that
  • but you point to a line and you’re like i love this!
  • and that’s how you end up spending like two hours sitting there talking about this one poem and somehow j.seph can feel your sincerity and that’s all it takes for him to open up to you
  • and before either of you knows he’s showing you more of his work
  • and only when you realize it’s getting dark out do you get up
  • and j.seph is like shyly,,,,,,,,like “i don’t know about publishing these in the journal,,,,,,but id love to show you more of my,,,,,,,,poems,,,,,”
  • and you clap your hands and you’re like yes!!! please do!!! and your smile makes j.seph’s heart beat
  • and your first date is basically at a cafe sharing some sweets and you gushing over his work and j.seph getting even more shy 
  • but also loving the feeling of,,,,,,having someone admire his poems
  • dating college!j.seph: staying inside all day at a library or study room and working silently on your separate projects but secretly holding hands under the table, delicate kisses where he holds you like you’re made of glass, book shopping dates, getting teased to death by matthew till both you and j.seph are flushed red, matching couple tees, sharing a drink and j.seph still getting worked up about a public indirect kiss LOL 

BM (Matthew) 

  • major: health law
  • sports: has tried all of them and has gotten bored of all of them so he just knows a bunch of athletes and is friends with them. like him and jackson from the fencing team and amber from the women’s basketball team,,,,,,but also jae from the schools band LOL
  • got into law and it was a shocker for like eVERYone because isn’t he just,,,,,,,the jock stereotype who should major in something like nutrition or physical education 
  • but nOPE matthew is seriously passionate about law, especially health law that has to deal with reproductive rights and drug safety. like he seriously just doesn’t understand why people are so hellbent on having control of other peoples bodies or making a certain medication highly addictive just to freakin suck money out of people LIKE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD
  • and everytime they have to study cases for papers or tests he literally seathes with anger and asks the teacher 30243 questions that usually just come down to “matthew, the law let them.” and matthew is like not to sound like a law-anti but the Law IS Stupid. All Governments are Shit
  • everyone in the class:
  • the teacher:
  • matthew who is now standing on the table with the crumpled case in his hand: ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,ill just sit down now
  • but his passion is a good thing because law can get boring and dense, but he’s so amped up about it because he needs to know what’s the best way to help people not get wrapped up in trouble,,,,and be able to keep their damn human rights
  • he also works nights at a popular bar off-campus and his friends are always there (the boss loves it because the $$$$$ comes piling in. also matthew is,,,,,,,,Hot,,,,,,,,there are many people just there to appreciate his looks so hey even more $$$$$$)
  • but matthew also gives out free drinks like his life depends on it and dabs everytime a customer compliments him like what friendly giant tbh
  • also let’s all take a moment to hold hands and think of matthew in a cute bartender outfit ok moving on
  • when he has time he works out at the campus gym but it’s always at super super late like 3-4 am when he gets off work
  • and you also happen to work out at weird times because thanks college for draining you with studying and the only time you have that’s free is the middle of the night
  • and you notice matthew, it’s hard not to as he’s standing over six feet, and you think “oh someone else is suffering with me”
  • but halfway through your run on the treadmill you make a very big mistake,,,,,,you look over and see matthew doing push-ups with one hand, and then switching without getting up to the other hand,,,,,,and the way he looks
  • cut-off sleeveless tank, loose basketball shorts and sweat running down a chiseled jawline you damn near trip over your own feet
  • because okay,,,,,,,,he’s hot,,,,,,,,
  • and you’re like no no focus on the work out but it’s impossible,,,,,,,because when you look back you see him lifting weights, his back big and wide, the muscles strong in his arms and you’re damn near drooling honestly
  • and this goes on for like two weeks because everytime you show up to work out,,,,it’s like 3:19 am and it’s just you two and matthew smiles and greets you and then starts working out and you can’t not watch,,,,,,,,,it’s like addicting 
  • and at one point you’re like whatever and as you see matthew finishing up you drop your jump-rope and you’re like “hey can i ask you something?” and he turns around with his usual smile, wiping the sweat from his neck and he’s like “sure!” and you’re like “let’s make out, if you want, like right now”
  • and matthew’s eyes go wide only for a second because he drops the towel from his neck and smirks and is like “i thought you’d never ask”
  • and that is how you end up making you in the empty campus gym and matthew is as good as a kisser as he looks,,,,,and he’s good at other things Which I Will Leave Up to You to Imagine
  • and as you’re leaving,,,,,,the sun rising slowly on the campus you’re like “um,,,,,,,see you again soon?” and matthew is like “you know it!”
  • and you two make out every time you see each other which is like 3 times a week at the gym and it’s great and it’s fun
  • but also you talk,,,,,,,and matthew is hilarious and not afriad to embarrass himself and oh shit this is going from a hookup to a crush
  • and you’re super scared about telling him,,,,,because he’s so,,,,,popular what if he already has someone else,,,,,someone better in mind
  • and you don’t want to ruin the great thing you have going (great thing being physical only) and you’re like telling yourself to not ruin it
  • until you’re sitting in matthew’s lap and suddenly he pulls back from your kiss, arms slipping from under your shirt and he’s like “listen ive been thinking, we never meet up outside the gym and i wanna introduce you to my friends-”
  • and you’re like wait hold up he’s talking like we’re,,,,,in a relationship
  • and matthew can see the confusion on your face and his smile drops and he’s like “unless,,,,,,,,,being something serious is uncomfortable for you?” but you shake your head so much you’re scared you might crack your neck but you’re like “no!!! i do want to be something serious, i was just surprised i thought you’d ,,,,,,,,only thought of this as something on the side”
  • and matthew grins and he’s like “no way, i don’t make out with just anyone. also you’ve seen my - well,,,,,,,,you’ve seen big matthew and that’s nothing something many people can say”
  • and you’re like oh my god did you just call- whatever, yes id love to ,,,,, meet your friends and do some stuff??? together??? like dates??? and you and him are grinning like idiots in love hehe
  • dating college!matthew: long snapchat stories of you guys being a cute couple and trying out new resturants or going to the amusment park and buying matching headbands, wearing his big clothes, couple work outs, matthew always using your legs as his personal pillow, wild parties where you both get tipsy and spend an hour debating who grinds better and making a very embarrassed j.seph the judge, being silly dorks that are super touchy and pda is at an all time HIGH, couple rings 

Jiwoo

  • major: neuroscience/pre-med
  • sports: women’s lacrosse 
  • she is FIERCE and nothing scares her. not the other lacrosse teams she has to face. not the judgmental looks people give her when she says she wants to become a neurosurgeon. not the way people snicker and point out her bold sense of fashion 
  • she’s her own person and she makes it known, because she’s a hardworker and she’s going to get into the top med school in korea just freaking watch her
  • and she’s gonna do it wearing fishnets, a motorcycle jacket, and heavy army boots like who said all girls have to dress a certain way??? and yes that’s a tattoo on her upper-arm like what are you gonna do about it????
  • matthew is always like holding jiwoo back from getting into fights at the bar he works at because if some guy as much as whispers something nasty/disrespectful/just plain gross under his breath about her or any girl in the vicinity she’s up and ready to throw hands
  • and matthew literally just wraps his arm around her torso while she’s kicking and going “let me GO” and he’s like “ow ow ow you’re so strong ow ow but thank god you’re short OW DID YOU JUST BITE MY ARM”
  • but she really studies super hard and she knows her stuff and the teachers love her,,,,,because she’s always the first to be done with her work and she really genuinely wants to be a surgeon to help people
  • ,,,,,,even though some of them are like “why,,,,,do you dress,,,,,,,so,,,,,” and she’s like “because i like it. what does that have to do with cognitive brain disorders? why does my appearance have anything to do with my passion and talent?” and the teachers are like ok ,,,true,,,,,,
  • you really look up to her because she’s so outspoken. also she makes even the scariest older classmates grovel at the knees like for instance pre-med ken made the mistake of cracking a joke about jiwoo’s resting poker face and she was like “coming from you who can’t even keep still in his seat for more than three seconds like some kind of over-energized rabbit, i don’t see whats so funny?” and ken was like i got it i Will Shut Up Now
  • and you see her a lot hanging around the computer lab of the library, probably to work on her labs and stuff and you don’t think she even notices you
  • because she’s always bickering with matthew or laughing with somin but,,,,,,,one day when you peek over you end up making eye contact
  • and you hide right away behind your hair because oh no she saw,,,you
  • but it’s too late and you can hear her boots marching across the floor and you feel the tap on your shoulder
  • and jiwoo literally spins around your computer chair and is like “heY,,,,,do you want to say something to me? you always stare at me funny? is there a problem”
  • and you’re like UH,,,,,,,turning redder by the second and matthew is already sighing across the room and getting up to get jiwoo but you just mumble out that no,,,,,no problem,,,,,,,you just think she’s really pretty
  • and the whole room turns to look at you two because oh god,,,,,,you just called jeon jiwoo pretty??????? no one has ever had the guts to approach her let alone,,,,compliment her
  • and you’re like This is The Day I Die but jiwoo,,,,,just clams up and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out and she’s like uh uh uh,,,,,,,,,,wh,,,what did you say?
  • and you’re like “im sorry please don’t be mad i think you’re really pretty and cool so i can’t stop looking at you but it’s nothing mean or hateful please omg,,,,”
  • and jiwoo puts her finger to your lips and you’re like oh no im dead but is?????? is she blushing and she gets up suddenly and she’s like “let’s,,,,step out.”
  • and you follow her out of the computer lab down to a bench outside on campus and you’re shaking with nervousness but jiwoo won’t look at you and she’s just like,,,,,,,,,,,
  • “ok,,,,,listen i have never been confessed to so this is weird but,,,,,is it true,,,,,,” and you’re like ??????? what and she’s like tucking her hair behind her ear trying to seem uninterested and she’s like “that you think im pretty?”
  • and you’re like “yes of course, i’ve thought it since i first saw you,,,,i think you were giving an underclassman his lunch back when someone stole it from him??? i thought you were so cool and so cute-”
  • jiwoo: “cute?”
  • you: “y,,yeah cute, pretty, beautiful,,,,,,,you’re all of that to me.” and this time you’re 100% sure she’s blushing
  • and suddenly jiwoo is like “are you free tonight?” and you’re like um yes why and she’s like there’s going to be a party at the bar matthew works out,,,,,,,do you wanna come ,,,,,,,,,,with me?
  • and you’re SPEECHLESS because is this HAPPENING RN and jiwoo is like “give me your phone. im gonna give you my number.”
  • and that night you meet up with jiwoo and the j.sep + somin outside of the bar and jiwoo is like “stay close, ok?” and you’re like holy,,,my heart is beating so fast
  • and you’re kinda shy but jiwoo is like “let loose, c’mon!!” and as you’re dancing together she grabs your shoulders and pulls herself closer to you and you’re like ghldjsfgfdf and she’s like “try to look a little happier - you said im pretty right, and now im dancing with you, isn’t it amazing?”
  • and you’re honestly starstruck you’re like “yes, im so happy. i feel blessed”
  • and jiwoo playfully pushes your arm but she feels this warmth in her chest because,,,,,,being so special to someone feels so nice,,,,,,
  • dating college!jiwoo: quizzing her on hard science terms you can’t pronounce, letting her try out makeup on you, laying upside down off the couch and watching horror movies together, pda making jiwoo shyer than usual, having jiwoo tell matthew that if he even DARES to make a move - she will shave all that hair off his head 

Somin

  • major: interior design 
  • sports: no time, she spends all of her free hours at her internship with a famous seoul furniture designer and she comes back to her dorm only to pass out on her bed, jiwoo always finds her without a blanket 
  • originally was interested in fashion design, but people aren’t her strongest suit so she became more interested in making pretty things,,,,,,,,that didn’t have to be modeled on someone but instead,,,,,inside a house
  • finds fabric magazines more thrilling than gossip magazines 
  • gives off a very mannered, but friendly field. she’s called a ‘goddess’ by underclassmen in the major because when she works she looks so pretty and concentrated and the way she handles cloth and drawing ,,,,,, it’s so like gentle 
  • keeps two sketchbooks: one that’s tidy and clean for class and the other that’s a mess for her own ideas
  • likes working in soft pastels,,,,,,,,,,bright patterns annoy her. so when matthew shows up in his hawaiian print button downs she’s literally like Go. Change
  • her internship is really hard because she’s an assistant to this designer who thinks they’re a prodigy or something and is always making somin run around and do needless tasks and jiwoo is always like somin. i want to fight your boss
  • you’re also an intern,,,,but not to the designer but to their marketing team and so you always feel terrible seeing somin being nagged at or asked to go buy coffee for like the tenth time
  • and you think she’s really sweet,,,,and patient to never ever snap or say something mean behind the designers back
  • but you also worry because when finals come around you can see somin is skipping meals as she’s losing weight and keeps coming in with bags under her eyes
  • and you end up seeing her kind of stumble on her way to the kitchen in the designers studio and at first you brush it off that she’s just sleepy but you can’t just leave it at that
  • so you go to the kitchen to see if she’s ok and you see her???? laying on the floor????? passed out
  • and you panic, falling to your knees and getting her head in your lap and you’re like “somin??? somin???”
  • and you pull her up into your arms and stand up and you can hear her kind of coming too and you like get her over to a chair
  • and get a cup of water and some snacks and you’re like “somin, let’s drink this ok?” and very gently you get the cup to her lips 
  • and she’s already like conscious but she looks so so so weak and you unwrap the snack and encourage her to take small bites
  • and when she’s done,,,,with a bit of energy restored she shyly tries to hide and she’s like “im sorry you had to see me like this”
  • and you’re like “somin,,,,,,,,,you should ask for a day off. it’s finals, i know how hard it is but you can’t torture yourself to this point.”
  • and somin nods but you know she’s not going to listen to you 
  • but before you get up to leave, she thanks you and you’re like feeling your heart break because someone who does so much deserves a break,,,,,
  • but since she doesn’t want to take one you start to take it upon yourself to make sure she’s eating at the internship and you always give her fruits or candy and you’re like eat this on your way back to campus!!!!
  • and when finals are over,,,,you’re happy for you but also somin
  • and one day she comes over to hand you lunchbox she’s made herself and she’s like !!!!!! for helping me,,,,,,all this time
  • and you guys eat together for the first time and it’s kinda like an impromptu date and you even get her number
  • and you learn about somin’s passion for designing homes and you think she looks so cute getting excited talking about it
  • and when you walk together to campus one night,,,,,you feel her take her finger and lock it around hers and you both are giggling,,,,but it’s so cute
  • dating college!somin: having to remind her to take her sketchbooks because she always forgets where she puts them if she takes them out of her bag, forehead kisses while she’s working, sitting up until really late with tea and just talking about what makes you happy, bubble baths together on off days, having jiwoo get super protective over you two, somin always plays with your hair, you find out she secretly really likes to dance and you guys have a dance off in her dorm that matthew and j.seph walk in on,,,,,,,,,and then join it becomes a competition, telling her she’s doing her best and you know she is and that’s enough <3
Notes – Zach Dempsey x Reader

Summary: 13 Reasons Why. On tape number 7, as we all know, is the chapter of Zach Dempsey and the “joke” that makes Hannah with the note in her bag.

I heard this song while I was writing.

Words: 2590

Reader’s point of view.

Enjoy it!


Your name: submit What is this?

What were they debating? I listened to many voices, each giving their opinions on the subject that was written on the board. It had turned out to be a suggestion from some of us, anonymously, it might even have tried one of my ideas, but I was sure I had not written anything and put it in the teacher’s bag. I went back to reading the blackboard, drugs, which is so much seen and boring. As if none of those around me knew the subject perfectly, and worse, they had put it into practice. I shrugged and continued to scribble in my notebook as I listened word after word, it was unbelievable that some defended the fact of being killed that way, and they did it in front of an authority. What a bah, at last was the life of everyone.

The bell rang, I sighed, relieved that the torture was finally over. I didn’t complain about the class, it was good as long as the subjects were of the same quality. Not any nonsense that we have been informed since we have “enough maturity” to cover those issues. It was urgent for me to be in college.

“Remember to check your bags!” Exclaimed the teacher in a jovial tone.

I smiled, it was a little exaggerated enthusiasm. I knew how many notes I would have in my bag, maybe one or two, I was safer than one. To get rid of some sermon, Skye and I made a pact, I left a note in her bag and she did the same in mine. We were friends, not intimate but whenever we took the paper we were giving a look and smile of complicity. And there it was, unfolding the piece of paper with a simple hello and an emoticon :P I laughed and put it in my pocket. I had another, I unfolded it, Sheri, and another … Zach? I frowned, he had never left me a note; instead, I thought I didn’t even know i existed for him. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he checked his bag, on the contrary, I knew he was on this planet and at school. For a few seconds I noticed his face of disappointment and I waited patiently to get something out of his bag, but nothing, now understood the reason of his expression. What the hell? How could someone as known as Zach Dempsey, basketball star, not have a note? In what world had we fallen? As far as I was concerned, the sportsman was the most beloved, even a Troy Bolton in person.  I buffet in my interior, how curious.

I bit my lip. I had never stopped to leave a note to the aforementioned, I thought that, with so many that would have, mine would be one more of the pile and insignificant. Because i liked him a lot, but, i wasn’t a cheerleader or someone with a notorious talent. I hated it when Mom dragged me to gym classes. And give encouragement? I barely and could give them myself before stepping into this jungle every morning.

“Another rabbit?” I heard to my left.

I turned to see Sheri and Hannah smile at the small drawing the latter held in her hands. I smiled when I saw it, how funny and tender. Hannah started to laugh. Apparently it was not the first time she received one but she seemed to love it.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. Both girls turned to see me and nodded.

I left the room even without reading the little note of Zach, I was dying of the emotion to know that said but also filled with fear. The main rule of notes on paper bags was that they should only leave positive messages, so it was more or less certain, never really known.

At lunchtime I was sitting with some friends with whom I didn’t share many classes, but we got together from the first year and they were very nice companies. In my hand I still held the paper already wrinkled by my nerves. They all knew about the class I took and also my taste for a sportsman, almost everyone encouraged me to read it at one time, others, wanted to keep an eye on it and warn me if it was worth that I knew its content or if It was just a bunch of crap. In the end, I took courage and decided it was time, however, before opening the paper I heard an angry scream on the other side of the cafeteria.

I turned. Zach Dempsey was standing in front of the person who had heard the scream, when it moved, we all realized that it was Hannah Baker. The place was silent, making that moment more uncomfortable between the two of them, and even for me. I had never seen those two together and to be honest, the reaction I got wasn’t good at all, I mean, Hannah was really beautiful, I could not compare to her. I crumpled the piece of paper again and hid it in the depths of my backpack. Whatever I said there, it would only serve to excite me.

Zach left the cafe in silence, without turning to see anyone. I also did it, but on the opposite side from where he had left.

Two days later

“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed as I quickly stood up from the bench where I was resting with Skye. I had passed olympically from the cafeteria.

“What?” My friend seemed surprised by my reaction.

“I forgot my hearing aids in the communication class”

It was unforgivable that I would walk in this jungle without the faithful company of music. I just couldn’t believe I forgot them, they were my best friends. I said goodbye to her and I almost ran down the hall, there was a chance that I would never see them again and the money I had, I was saving for something else, if I invested in new hearing aids, I would have to practically start Of zero my savings, which wasn’t much by the way.

I dodged the people I ran into in the hallways. I looked like the devil’s soul, but I felt that with every second they were alone at my desk, more danger ran. I stopped to recover the air a few meters from the living room door. I wasn’t an athletic girl and this was too much of a stretch on my part, I needed to sit down soon.

When I looked to the front, I discovered that Hannah peered almost desperately into the classroom. I missed myself and I hit the lockers hoping to see what happened. She made several gestures, surprise, indignation but, at the end of all, sadness. But what was happening? I took a step with the intention of approaching her and investigating what she was spying … or who. Suddenly, the identity of the “stranger” was revealed. Zach came out of the classroom with a paper in his hands and the blank expression, almost guilty, seemed nervous. Had he finally received a note? So why his reaction like that?

“Why me, Zach? Why me?”

I jumped. I hadn’t realized how much the boy had advanced, but most of all, that Hannah had walked almost to my height. I felt her tear-filled eyes as she faced the boy for what to know. As in the cafeteria, we all fell silent, apparently this couple had a lot to show. I dared to look at Zach, even with the paper in his hands and his serious countenance, stopped in the middle of the hall and watched the one who had shouted at him, I couldn’t decipher the way he looked at her, but I could still feel guilty … Or maybe regret, it was hard to tell, Zach was a guy full of surprises.

Finally the tense atmosphere dissipated when he broke the bubble. He turned and left without even responding to Hannah. She turned, too.

“Hannah” I said without thinking, but she didn’t hear me and disappeared at one of the corners of the hall. I felt bad even though I didn’t know exactly what it was all about.

At the end of class, I decided that I didn’t want to go home soon and I remembered that for the moment the auditorium would be empty, the practices would not start for forty-five minutes, enough time to finish some homework or just read without the annoying murmurs Which were heard in the study area. I just wanted silence, to be with my music and the notebook in my lap. As I predicted, the place was empty, I smiled as I climbed the steps to be in the middle and proceeded with what I had planned, however, my concentration wasn’t in the equations in front of me, but rather in what had happened in the hallway does only a few hours. As I watched, Zach was a good guy, maybe something childish from time to time, but i couldn’t imagine that would bring against Hannah but above all, what will have done. I bit my pencil, he had a note in his hand when he left the classroom … What if it was not for him? What if it wasn’t from his bag? I bit the pencil harder, why did Hannah spy on him? why she? I got an idea of ​​what might have happened and maybe it would be related to what happened in the cafeteria.

My heart began to beat faster. I understood that he had some interest in her, of course. A hint of disappointment hugged me and I realized that I still hoped he would look at me, but how to do it if we have not even crossed words at any time? Or at least not to any class. I sighed.

I turned off the music on my phone, ready to leave. Being in school made me think about everything that happened here; At least at home I could be distracted by Netflix or loud music and hundreds and hundreds of homework. As he heard me around again, I heard the bounce of a ball, I looked up. Right in front of the basket I recognized Zach’s body, especially for the height. My heart raced on instinct and I hated it. So, I had two options, to leave like a ninja, that is to say, without being heard or to be seen, or to leave the shyness and cowardice and finally to speak to him. I bit my lip but cheered.

“Zach!” I exclaimed as I approached him.

He dropped the ball and turned to raise his eyebrows. Yes, I’m talking to you. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Hey, Y/N” He greeted me as if greeting one of his friends. Well, it was a start.

“You’re good? You look kind of annoying ”

Conversation. I really needed some conversation.

“I’m fine.” He hesitated a little. “Did you read my note?”

His note? Holy sh*t! I had completely forgotten, had to remain in my backpack, crushed by my books and other nonsense. I bit my lip. My face was a poem and I knew I had given the answer to his question when he chuckled.

“I’m sorry” I whispered “It’s … it surprised me, I mean, I didn’t even think i existed for you”

“Why do you say that? You look like a great girl. I like your opinions in class, when the subject interests you”

I blushed. Zach Dempsey had watched me, and more than that, he seemed to know me at least a little of what I could have imagined after this conversation. I smiled. He was undoubtedly speechless.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Y/N”

He took the ball and walked to pick up his backpack and jacket. What? Had that been our whole conversation? I stood there as he left, then noticed that a piece of paper had fallen to him.

“Zach, wait!” I shouted but not hoping to be heard.

I went to where he had collected his belongings and took that forgotten paper. I know I should not read it, not even open it, but I was curious, whether it was the one Hannah had been angry about or was simply a task that was aimed at there. Anyway, I opened it and read its contents. My heart was broken as I read every word Hannah expressed there, her feelings, emotions, how she was happy to receive his drawing of rabbit every time we had communication, as a small detail illuminated her interior … and that Zach had snatched her away, so my conclusions weren’t so far-fetched. Zach Dempsey stole the bag notes from Hannah Baker!

With tears in my eyes and anger at something that didn’t belong to me, I ran to the parking lot, I knew the sportsman’s car and I was glad to find him, but above all, to him without leaving. He was throwing his backpack into the back seats when I confronted him.

“Why did you do it, Zach?”

He looked at me confused. I handed him the note and he took it, deserved to keep it as a constant reminder of his acts of immaturity. All because of a rejection? I had lived with at least three and that wasn’t stealing valuable belongings from each of them. I clenched my hands in fists, perhaps mine were simple jealousy, that his attention was on her not me, or perhaps the actions he did. I didn’t know and I didn’t stop to find out.

“You didn’t have to read this, Y/N.” He shook the note in front of my nose and tucked it in his pants pocket.

“I didn’t, but I did. Why are you so cruel? Why do that?”

“It’s just silly, I don’t know why you take it so hard” He opened the driver’s door “Besides, it’s supposed to be Hannah who should be here, you have nothing to do with this”

“Did you at least understand what that letter meant?”

I hated a lot when someone hurt someone else’s feelings, especially in such a stupid act as the sportsman had carried out.

“I’m sorry, alright? Is it what you want to hear? I won’t mess with that stupid bag ever again”

“You don’t have to apologize to me” I said seriously.

“But at least it made you happy, didn’t it? What I wanted to get when you read my note”

“What?”

Zach got into his car and started off at full speed exiting the parking lot.  I was stony again, staring only at the smoke that the car had lifted when it left. Make me happy?

Hyperventilating I knelt on the floor and began to pull my things out of my backpack wanting to look for that note. When I finally found it I unfolded it, wanting to smooth it, but the pile of wrinkles indicated that that was already impossible. I felt a lump in my throat as I read what I had written.

You look pretty in that color. Maybe someday you want to go out with me, because I want to go out with you.

“Oh, fuck!” I whispered, reading those words more than once.

I looked back to where I had seen her car one last time and I felt like the dumbest person in the world. Why had not I read the note when I had the chance?

3

But what if Betty was new to town and she was a lone wolf just like Jughead? Can these two come together to help fix the damage done onto them by others?
****

It was…. different.

The town was small. it was small and it was quiet, very different to the busy Harlem streets she was used to, it unnerved her. Nothing was supposed to be this perfect, she had learned perfection always came with a cost. What was the cost exactly? Well …she was gonna find out.

Her father had always said “mystery calls to you Elizabeth Cooper, you can either choose to answer it or leave it ringing.” Smiling at the thought of her father, she shifted the suitcase in her hands. He had been a good man, Loved her more than anything, and would do anything for his family. Which he did.

“Elizabeth?” She looked up at the sound of her mothers voice, she had a questioning look on her face and reached out to place a palm to her forehead “are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

Betty shook her mothers hand off
“I’m fine, just thinking.”

Her mother never pressed her, she had learned that the hard way a while back, it wasn’t wise to question Betty, it would just set her back and she would lose it. Sure maybe it was immature but she figured she deserved a little leniancy.

“Were here.” The beautifully put together blonde woman smiled at her equally beautiful daughter.
The house was huge, it was massive. Her eyes instantly zeroed in on the room up top with the bay window. She felt a hand being placed on her arm “you can have that room.” She smiled gratefully to her mom. Taking a deep breathe, she steeled her shoulders and gripped her suitcase
“Well, what are we waiting for?Ready to enter the belly of the beast?”

Rolling her eyes and smiling, Alice cooper led Betty through the doors. Looking around Betty felt herself smile for the first time in hours. The walls were a dreamy white and the furniture was rustic and beautiful, everything was simple and clean. It was perfect.
“Now I know, it’s very big for just the two of us, but you’re father wanted us to have it. We were all going to move in here together.. it’s what… I” choking up Alice took a deep breathe and excused herself, Betty knew that meant she needed to cry. Feeling the guilt rip her stomach, Betty ran up the stairs to look at her new room.

Shit.

It was huge and roomy, painted a light yellow, her favorite color. She closed her eyes and angled her head to the sky, swallowing a lump in her throat. He knew she would’ve wanted this room, he painted it for her, her drawings and paintings were hung on the wall in beautiful frames. Thank you dad.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she started unpacking her suitcase. She only had one suitcase for all of her things, they didn’t have much back home, all of her dresses and shoes fit into the one large rolling bag.

Suddenly she heard music from outside her window, her curiosity peaking, she looked through the shifty curtains. It was two boys, a redheaded one was facing her playing a guitar in the house directly across from hers and a dark haired boy facing away, all she could make out was the gray beanie. Great her neighbors were boys her age, she just knew her mother was going to want to introduce them. Suddenly the music stopped and the boys looked to be packing up, getting ready to go out she assumed.

As she continued unpacking, she pulled out her sketch book and pencils with an unenthused “ta da.” Gripping the book to her chest, she made her way downstairs.
“Mom I’m going out to explore, I’ll be home in a few hours.” She called Into the living room.

“Okay honey, try and make some friends!”

She rolled her eyes uttering,“ no promises” before she shut the front door.

Where should she go? What did people do around her?

After about twenty minutes of wandering she came across an old fashioned diner. Perfect. She could shack up in a back booth and work on some of her drawings.

As soon as she entered the diner, she spotted a familiar beanie. It was the boy next door. And he was…

Staring at her. Hard.

Choosing to ignore his gaze, she moved to the booth diagonal to his, he was typing on a laptop, a coffee by his side and his sleeves rolled up.
He really was quite attractive, his wavy long hair underneath that ridiculous hat, the piercing blue eyes she felt staring into her shoulder, and the absolutely sinful Lips.
Okay Betty, get a grip. She smiled to herself shaking her head slightly and moving back to her sketches.

Meanwhile Jughead was struggling to control his straying thoughts. Never had a girl stolen his attention like this, sure she was beautiful, actually she was absolutely gorgeous. All silky blonde hair, long tan legs and bright green eyes, but there was something else, something about her made it impossible to look away. She was the type of girl you write stories about, fortunately for him, he wrote stories more than he breathed.

Suddenly archie was sliding into the booth across from him “check out the new girl, she is something to look at right? I’m pretty sure she’s my new neighbor. The coopers. It’s just her and her mom.” Coincidentally the smell of gossip brought the one and only Veronica lodge to his once comfortably secluded booth.

“Total smoke show for sure. But rumor has it her dad was murdered in front of her. My sources tell me that’s why they moved here.” Veronica looked over to the blonde frowning. “Poor thing.”

Jughead hated rumors, they pissed him off, especially about the girl he felt an unexplainable connection with. “How do you even know anything about her Veronica? She moved here this morning, don’t go spreading rumors until you get it from the actual source. That girl.” He said with a nudge of his head.

Veronica was unphased by his icy tone, raising a brow “so that’s your type hmm? Well let’s go chat her up, shall we?” She stood and wiped her skirt as Jughead desperately tried to get her to stay
“Veronica! No! Leave her alone” he whispered panicked.

“Oh relax jugs, I’m just going to be polite.” And she was gone, already halfway to The beautiful blonde.

Both of the boys at the table watched as Veronica spoke to the mysterious new girl. About two minutes later she came back to the table smiling
Archie looked at her expectantly “so?”

She just smiled again “I asked her to come sit with us and she pretty much shot me down. No. not pretty much. She definitely shut me down.”

Jughead looked confused “and that’s making you smile because..?”

Veronica laughed “she’s awesome, totally reminds me of you Jughead, except for the fact that she seems like she’s totally cool, no offense. She said she preferred to work on her art alone, people were a distraction, but when she finished her sketches , she would come join us.”

Jughead glanced over at her again. He was the exact same way, whenever he was writing something new he had to have complete focus and silence.

After two burgers and four chapters, he felt a shift at the table. Looking up expecting to see Archie, he started speaking

“Dude, I don’t think…” his eyes caught on the beautiful bright green ones staring back at him and giggling.

“I haven’t been called dude in a very long time, I mean I’ll take it, but most people call me Betty.” She gently placed her sketch book on the table and jughead resisted the urge to grab it and flip through the pages.
Apparently he could no longer speak, that ability was now gone from his life.
She seemed to take his silence as a bad thing, and quickly started playing with her fingers
“Your friend.. Veronica? I think it was. She invited me to come sit, I totally understand if you’re busy, do you write?”

The simple question seemed to Knock him out of his stupor. “Uh.. yes. I write stories, I’m currently working on one regarding riverdales secrets.” He mumbled out

Her eyes lit up and she leaned over the table slightly “I’ve been wondering about all the things This little town has to hide. Can I read it when you’re done. I’m always down for a mystery.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm
“I’ll let you read it, if you let me look at your drawings” he said confidently.

She placed an open palm over her notebook and stuck her free hand out, wiggling her finger tips
“You got a deal….?”

“Jughead. Jughead jones.” He prepared himself for the ridicule that always came with his first name. But she just smiled warmly

“You got a deal Jughead jones”

As soon as their hands touched, he felt an unfamiliar tingle, no way , this was not some teen romance, this was riverdale. This was him.
He looked into her eyes to see if she felt it as well, sure enough she was staring at their joined hands wide eyed.

“Well look who’s getting all cozy. I told you Jughead, she’s just like you. Only cooler.”

Kevin, Veronica and Archie were all standing over the diner table and smiling at the pair, pulling his hand away he whispered for only Betty to hear

“Welcome to the Scooby gang Velma.”

Fanfiction - Happier

I wrote this short thing for the needle wizard, pencil sorceress and all around magnificent friend, the lovely @outlanderedandoverhere. Master Seamstress shares with me the love for Ed Sheeran and I couldn’t resist the urge to have her doing a happy dance over this. Enjoy! X

Happier

I entered the small coffee shop, unfolding my scarf as soon as I felt the merciful warmth of the heating system, aiming towards a quiet table at the corner, as I shook off snowflakes from my curls.

As I waited for the small waitress to bring me my cranberry scone and a large cup of steaming tea, I opened my notebook and started reading the notes I had taken. It was a very hard case, a young patient with a rare tumor compressing his bile duct – presenting with jaundice, looking like the most recent character of The Simpsons. The previous surgeon in charge of the case had announced it to be unresectable, which gave him about three months of life expectancy. At the age of thirty, you are seldom ready for your life to end – least of all without throwing a good fight.

And that was what I was planning to offer him – a risky procedure, only done in the past by a handful of surgeons in the country. If it worked, he would be cancer free – and it was my job to guarantee it worked. I had barely slept the last couple of nights, immersed in planning the surgery to the finest detail.

I loved my job, fiercely – even in the moments I hated it. I never lost the tingling on my palms when I held the scalpel or the sudden feel of a jump inside my belly, like I had missed a step, whenever I finished a hazardous procedure. Besides, it was a very welcome distraction from the wreckage of my personal life.

I sipped my tea, delighted with the smoky taste of the Highland blend, strong and homely on the back of my tongue. It reminded me of the taste of his skin against my lips and I swallowed hard, slightly shaking my head to disperse unwelcome memories.

The bell above the door rang, a small tornado of snow allowed in as new customers entered the cosy place. I bit the back of my pencil, tilting my head to better discern an approach, as I mobilized the invisible pancreas before me. I smiled, seeing the vessels and ducts so well exposed in the eye of my mind, ready to be conquered, and raised my eyes to ask for a second congratulatory scone.

I saw his back but recognized him immediately – I had kissed that spot just behind his ear, where his hair curled at the nape, countless times.

He was wearing his pilot uniform underneath his overcoat, the flight captain’s hat placed next to his elbow on the table. I had a sudden flash of his hands placing that hat on my head, a playful smile on his full lips, his slightly callused hands roaming my otherwise naked body. No.

Without thinking, I was already making myself small on my table, shrinking to the point where I could almost hide under the tasteful tablecloth – wishing I had gone to another place, in another time, in another world.

Only then I noticed he had company - a cute blonde girl wearing stewardess clothes, her lips painted red to match the satin scarf prettily tied around her neck in a bow. She sat in front of him on the table, a complicit smile plastered on her face, as he talked – probably sharing something about a recent trip.

He was always coming and going, flying around the world – I remembered all too well setting my alarm to the middle of the night, just so I could listen to his voice in Tokyo. Kissing him goodbye – there had been so many goodbyes, not enough hellos – before he left to New York. Texting him, unsure where in the world he was exactly – but painfully aware it wasn’t by my side.

The nights became so long, always craving, always wondering. I felt split in two, half of myself scattered in the wind, travelling on the air - while the other half was forced to anchor it, bearing down, struggling with heaviness. There weren’t enough kisses to ease the constant ache, as much as he tried – and he had tried.

“Do ye not want me anymore?” He had asked me on the final night, broken – Oh, so broken.

I hadn’t answered him and in my silence he took his leave, shoulders hunched in pain. In truth, I couldn’t fathom a time when I wouldn’t want him – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? I kept wanting and wanting and wanting, wanting so much everything hurt, wanting so much I feared I would physically break.

The flight attendant touched his hand – to my horror he didn’t shy away from it. It lingered there, natural and possessive, and I felt the scone doing cartwheels inside my stomach like a flour acrobat.

She leaned over and told him something, slightly sticking her tongue out in mischief and he laughed. Throat and lungs and vocal chords, clapping and singing, an orchestra on a perfect rendition of amusement. Standing ovation from the crowd. Claire Beauchamp dead in the audience.

He used to laugh like that with me. Jamie always laughed with his entire body. He was that kind of man – whole in everything he did. I recalled the sensation of his laugh as I laid my cheek on his chest, a scientist studying the mechanisms of happiness. For a moment I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand, foolishly disturbed by the realization I didn’t hold his laughter in exclusiveness.

Jamie looked happy. I could see the outline of his smile, the corners of his mouth turned up in contentment. Had he been that happy with me, once? Before I filled our lives with insecurities, demands and frailties?

She squeezed his hand – fingers touching, skin meeting, hearts melting? - and got up, putting on her elegant coat. With a swish of blonde hair, she kissed his cheek – clearly no amiable kiss demanded such duration, in my opinion – and with a light caress on his forehead, left him finally alone.

He looked around, searching for the waitress to ask for a refill and – of course – spotted me. It was like standing on stage, two spotlights beaming on us, everything else left in darkness. Jamie glanced at me and I proudly endured his gaze, asserting that I saw his happiness and wasn’t shaken at all by it. Liar.

Slowly I made my way to his table, a slug crawling on a lettuce leaf, ugly but brave. I seemed to be ken on eating every crumb of my cake of sorrow and then smile, pretending it was sweet.

“Hello, Jamie.” I greeted him, bracing myself on the notebook I carried. His hair was somewhat shorter than the last time I had seen him, a couple of months ago, his uniform impeccable, the tie on his neck just a bit loose. I used to make his knots and suddenly panicked, fearing that the blonde girl was a master of turns and twists, able of fixing his heart as well as his tie.

“Hello, Claire.” Jamie replied, his voice cautious. “How are ye?”

“Good.” I smiled nervously. “Are you back from work?”

“Aye.” He fidgeted with the mug in front of him, a soft hesitant smile on his lips. “Just got back from Brazil. It was a wee furnace there.”

“Ah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to come up with other pleasantries I could share with him. Do you smile in your sleep when she touches you? “You look good. Happy.”

“What are ye asking me, Claire?” He avoided my gaze, his face abruptly serious.

“Nothing.” I replied in a hoarse voice, well aware that he could spot the tears forming on the corners of my eyes, in the fountains of my soul. “Just that. You looked happy with her.”

“She’s a good lass.” He glared at me, his eyes outrageously blue and intent. “She understands what life is for me. I feel that I can talk to her.”

“As you couldn’t talk to me?” I tried to smile again and failed miserably, the glass of my face polished and glistening, reflecting the thousands of small sorrows hidden in the corners of my eyes.

“I told ye all my soul and heart.” Jamie lowered his eyes, grabbing his hat. “In the end it wasna enough. That is my utmost regret, Claire - that it wasna enough.”

I stood there, speechless, as he gathered his things and left. I thought of the bleeders that elude the most capable surgeon, the cardiac arrest that lasts forever, the hands inside where we are most private, touching the core of what we are, unable to reach what had been lost. I slammed my heart at him as he closed the door behind him – “Jamie!” – knowing all too well I had no one to blame but myself. I had traded all for nothing, convinced it was a worthy bargain – blind, blind, fool.

I crawled home, shaken to the very marrow of my bones, oozing love and loss – sticky and queasy with it. In medical school they had told me how the brain works to protect itself – the clever barrier surrounding it, the plasticity, the temperature regulation – and yet my brain seemed decided to finish me, incessantly playing memories of Jamie, smacking me with my own recklessness. I had no self-preservation left, for I loved him to the atoms of me.

I had seen him happy without me – there was joy there to be sure, in knowing him well. But the pain was almost unbearable, no last redoubt of magical thinking left, where I could hide and pretend we would find our way back to each other. He was gone. Pushed away by my own two hands.

I collapsed on the couch, curling into fetal position, making myself small and smaller. My ears were filled with the sounds of my own heart and I willed him to stop, to let go of beating, to be still and let me be.

He kissed my cheek on our first date. I kissed his lips on the second. Loved all of himself by the tenth. My heart leapt when I saw him, tall and gallant in his uniform, almost running to hold me in his arms at the hospital. When he told me flying was his second favourite thing. When he told me I was first. Red Jamie, my Jamie.

A knock on the door, fast and rhythmed. A secret code for the lover coming.

I padded to the door, afraid and wanting. Hopeful.

I opened the door and he was standing there, snowflakes turning into rivers on the brim of his hat. He reached out with his hand and I took it, already knowing I’d never let go again.

“I was happier with ye.” He whispered in a husky voice. And I remembered it all, the happiness and love I’d known, waiting in him as kisses on his lips.

Pain Split || Peter Parker x Reader [[soulmate au]]

{soulmate au where you and your soulmate share each other’s pain…however there is one extra catch: evidence of their injuries may show up on your body as well… (this mainly applies to bruises, open wounds and broken bones are never shown, but they can still be felt by your soulmate)}

Here’s the promised soulmate au for Peter ;w;

peter parker is my waifu and i will never stop writing for him ;w; he’s such a gr8 boyfriend material that i swear i’m falling more in love with him every time i see him.

i’m so hyped for homecoming man, sooooo hyped [♥]

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine.**

——

A shot of red hot pain felt blooming across your abdomen forces you to wake up in the middle of the night. You let out an involuntary groan, lifting up your oversized shirt to see what was wrong.

Upon seeing the ugly purple and blue bruise spread out across the wide expanse of your skin, you whimper and gently touch at the surface. When you applied a bit of pressure to the unknown bruise, you felt yourself jolt in response, making you nearly cry out at experiencing the intense pain.

Just who the hell was your soulmate and what were they doing each night?

Keep reading

The Notebook Ch.1

Title: The Notebook
Character: Lin X Reader
Prompt: When the reader runs into Lin in the airport, (literally “runs” into him), an accidental notebook swap occurs in the confusion, and they go home with each other’s work.
Word Count: 2,859 (wowie)
W/T: none???
A/N: wow it’s been a while. Two things; 1, this is literally a dream I had. 2, I blame @secretschuylersister for wearing off on me enough to write this.
~SJ

———

The blinding lights and bustling streets of New York only seem like background noise to you at this point in your life. You’ve lived here since you graduated college, and it hasn’t been as bad as you’d originally thought. Sure, the towering skyscrapers and ceaseless shouting or honking outside of your apartment was much different than the silent cricket chirps outside of your family’s home back in Missouri, but it was a much needed change.

In fact, living in New York has changed your life completely. You were still the same kiddo from the small country town back home, aspiring to do great things. You still said “y'all”. You still lived off of sweet tea. You still had all of your little traits you’d gained from growing up there. But once you hit New York? “Culture Shock” was really the only way to describe it.

It seemed like you were never alone in the “City that Never Sleeps”. The streets were never empty, the lights glaring from the billboards outside of your window were your new night stars, and you always saw something new everyday. It’s was probably one of the best places for you to be with your dream job; writing. A new thing seen on the side of the street fueled a new song lyric, a new poem, a new story, and new something. You were constantly jotting stuff down in your favorite black notebook, usually adding to your current project; a musical.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want me to go get you something before you leave for the airport?” Your roommate’s voice inquires from the opposite side of the dining room table, her head resting in her hand defeatedly from her work. You don’t even bother to peal your eyes away from your page, frantically scribbling down yet another lyric for one of your main characters. “Nah, I’ll probably just grab something quick on the way to the airport. Thanks though, Ky.” She raises an eyebrow at you, obviously doubting that you will. “Uh huh. Like all of those other times that you’ve said that you’ll get something to eat on the way out, and proceed to not go out, continue to write in that stupid notebook of yours, and stay up until I wake up the next morning?”

“Okay okay, you’ve got me there.” You breathe, allowing for her to pull the black leather bound pages away from you. “But what can I say, Ky? I’m basically a writing machine, I just can’t help it. There’s too many ideas locked up inside of my mind to not write them all down. I wanna share them with the world!”

“You can keep writing about those silly little characters you’ve got after you eat something, Y/N. There’s my leftovers in the fridge I’ll let you have if you eat them right now.” Kylie offers, gesturing to the stainless steel door behind her. “Yeah yeah, okay. No need to blackmail me here.” You retort, rolling your eyes and nudging her aside. Slipping your hand around the cool handle, you yank the door open and pull out the white styrofoam box, ready to devour it in order to keep writing. “You never talk to me about anything besides your stupid musical now, Y/N. I wanna talk about other stuff.” Kylie huffs, flopping into the wooden chair across from yours at the table.

“That came out of nowhere.” You chuckle, settling back into your spot, this time eating instead of writing. “I know, but I feel like you’ve just been kinda distant lately. I don’t think you’ve actually talked to me about your life for at least a month-oh my god you’ve never talked to me about your love life. Tell me. Now.” Kylie gushes, her eyes widening at the thought of not knowing. “I’ve never talked about it because it’s non-existent.” You joke through a mouthful of a quesadilla. “When was your last relationship?” She questions, her eyebrows furrowing slightly with concern. You simply shrug. “Last kiss?” “Never had one.” “Last time you were in love?!” “Does the kid I hated in 1st grade count?”

“Oh my god, why have you never told me that you’re helpless?!” Kylie cries, flailing her hands around frantically. “I didn’t realize that my love life was a big deal to you?” You snort, suddenly reconsidering if you should’ve just lied to her and said you had a boyfriend. Wow, that actually did make you sound really lonely. Nice going. “Um, hello?! Being in love is one of the-no, IS the best feeling in the world?!”

“Love is a choice, not really an emotion, KyKy.” You correct, gently pointing your fork at her in correction. Or at least, that’s what you’ve always known it as. Throughout high school, you saw relationship after relationship go strong for a solid three months, and then crash and burn because the “feeling just wasn’t there” and they’d already moved on to a new lover. You never understood how people could just hook up because of “a feeling”, and then not try to fix it if they thought it was that important. It’s always seemed like it should be an effort from both parties, not just “run with this instinct”. That and everyone in your school were a bunch of idiots.

“Wow. Okay I need to take you out with me sometime, you’re going to get a boyfriend to call your own.” Kylie breathes, making it sound like it’s going to be a hassle. “Hey! I’m perfectly lovable, thank you very much.” You snap, narrowing your eyes at her. “Oh are you now, little Miss No-Love-Life?” She throws back just as quickly. “By the sounds of it, you really aren’t.”

“Well it’s not just that nobody’s ever had a crush on me, I can name off a couple. It’s a matter of them not sharing the same ideals and such as me.” “Oh, please do go on. I’m curious of what these ideals could possibly be.” Kylie teases, leaning into her hands playfully.

“Simple. None of them have ever understood my love for writing, how I need to throw my thoughts onto paper, how I want too make something out of thin air.” There were a couple of people from high school you can remember having a bit of a thing for you, but at the same time you can remember how you cast them away way too quickly when you got to know them. In retrospect, you were probably kinda cruel to them, but you’ve always stood by what you learned from growing up. Your stubbornness wasn’t about to give in on the one thing that you’ve always loved.

“Oh, so you want someone who’s just as insane as you about writing, so that you two can die together because you forgot about your needs for survival? Got it.” Kylie laughs, still in disbelief that guys had crushes on you. “Whatever, Ky. Just give me my notebook back already, I’ve gotta get going.” You fume, shoving the empty takeout box at her from across the table. “Okay, geez. Didn’t know you were such a crabby person when you’re away from your paper.” She sighs, handing back your notebook. “Most people would get upset if you held their child hostage.”

“Wow, you really are obsessed with that thing, aren’t you?”

“Goodbyeeeee Kylie.” You draw out, wrapping your hand around the handle of your luggage, and tossing your backpack over your shoulder as you head for the front door. “Waitwaitwaitwait.” She fumbles, racing towards you. She wraps her thin arms around you, embracing you tightly. “Stay safe, Y/N. And find yourself a boyfriend while you’re at it.” You roll your eyes jokingly and hug back, the resentment from moments ago melting away.

“Okay, now get going you lug. I want the apartment to myself for as long as I can get.” Kylie finishes, gently pushing you out the door and into the complex’s hallway. “Whatever. I’ll see you in two weeks, you snot.” You call back, rolling your bag towards the elevator.

Tucking an earbud into your ear, you bury your phone into your pocket and pull you pencil out from behind your other ear, already jotting some more stuff down about your main characters and their backgrounds. Maybe have them meet at a party? No, that’s too High School Musical-y. Maybe in the park? Meh, cliché. What about if they just run into each other somewhere-literally run into each other? That’s a good one, adds to the comedic effect. Would their best friends push them back together? Is there going to be a huge fight, or will there be a tragedy for one of them that makes the super withdrawn? Why not both? Will one of them die in the end? Will one of them leave and fall for someone else? Will there be a happily ever after-ew no. Happy endings always happen by happenstance, and it’s just not logical. That doesn’t happen in the real world. No happy endings.

Thoughts continue to flood through your mind and onto the paper as you hit the outside of your apartment building and whistle for a taxi, hoping that one stops within the next five minutes. Luckily, the first one manages to see you and pulls over, letting you climb in the back. The driver’s gruff voice calls to you, “Where ya headed?”. “JFK.” You quickly respond, scratching something out on another page just to rewrite the idea. “Ya don’t sound like yer from ‘round here, little lady. You headed back home or sometin’?” He asks curiously, his voice rather warm and inviting, like your favorite uncle or something.

“Is it that easy to tell?” You laugh, forcing yourself away from your journal for a little bit to keep a conversation with him. “Trust me, lil’ lady, I’ve had ma fair share of outta-towners in this her’ girl. Ya sound kinda southern, but not really. Midwest maybe?” He guesses, tilting his dark sunglasses down to look at you from his rearview mirror. “You’re good.” You nod, smiling at his correct answer. “That’s what I thought.” He smirks, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Anytin’ in particular yar’ leavin’ for?”

“Nothing more than returning home for a couple of weeks at this point. Maybe busting with some old friends, who knows.” You answer distantly, the thoughts of what could happen at home overcoming you for a moment. There’s so many people you haven’t seen in what feels like forever. And you haven’t seen your dog in ages, either. “Simple 'nuff. Wish I could go back home fer’ a lil’ bit, ya know? Get ta visit with ma Nana again, see how she’s been doin’.”

“How long has it been since you’ve gone home?” You question, taking in his features as you do so. A bit larger, receding hairline pretty evident, dark sideburns, and an impressive beard to match. They all seem to fit his voice perfectly. “Uh, let’s see her’. Probably when I graduated, so… Eleven ye-nah, that’s too short. Probably somewhere closer ta fifteen or so, s'uppose.” He draws out, scratching his curly beard. “Fifteen years?!” You instinctively blurt out, instantly regretting it. “Ya, I’ve been stuck up her’ in da Big Apple fer’ a long while now, ya know? I just haven’t really given myself a chance ta get outta her’. Glad ya can, doh. Helps lift ma spirits a bit, seein’ ya off.”

“Speakin’ a which, her’ ya are, lil’ lady! The famous plane port of da Big Apple!” He presents, parking the cab along the curb next to the front entrance. You blink a bit, taking in the sudden appearance of the airport and its towering parts. “Oh wow. We got here fast. How much do I owe you?” You start pulling your wallet out of your backpack, but a gentle, calloused hand sets itself on your shoulder. Slightly confused, you turn towards the front seat, only to be greeted by the same smiling face as before.

“No charge fer’ ya, lil’ lady. It’s been a bit since I’ve had a good ol’ conversation with someone, ya know? Ever'one her’ is always in a rush and snappy, wantin’ ta get somewhere quick. Thank ya for given ma a good laugh today.”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mouth has opened to try and deter him, but nothing comes out, which only makes his grin wider and more toothy. “Now get a move on, lil’ lady. Don’t want ya ta be a missin’ dat flight of ya’s cuz’ I’m bein’ nice.”

Flabbergasted, you slowly climb out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk, bag and notebook in hand, and watch the dandelion yellow taxi pull away, leaving a thin cloud of exhaust in its wake. You glance down at your watch, the minute hand hovering over the 6 is all the indication you need to start booking it to your gate.

Weaving between as many people as you can while still jotting stuff down about that taxi driver in your notebook, you hurry across the airport, trying to multitask and catch your plane all in due time. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, considering everyone was clearing a path for you as you plowed towards them.

Well, except one person.

Your notebook goes clambering to the glossy tile floor as you topple to the ground, your backpack slipping off of your shoulder and your luggage rolling out of reach. Your back crashes against the hard ground, and your lungs collapse in on themselves for a moment on impact. Thank god you had the wind knocked out of you for a second, because if you hadn’t, you probably would’ve said something utterly embarrassing about the rather cute guy on top of you, his face inches from yours.

“Oh shi- I’m so sorry! Here lemme-uh-…” He fumbles, trying to push himself off of you as quickly as possible without making it more awkward. He manages it, (somehow), and offers you a hand, which you take, a bit dazed from the impact still. Wow, he’s stronger than he looks. “Uhhh…” He sounds off, awkwardly brushing some invisible dust off of your clothes. “Sorry about that. I get kinda caught up in my head sometimes.”

“No, it’s fine, I do too. I should’ve looked where I was going in the first place.” You apologize, leaning down to pick up your notebook. “Oh, let me get that for you.” He instantly states, snatching it up in his hands. “Huh, this one looks like the one I have.” He chuckles slightly, patting his pocket for a second before going into a panic. “Wait, where is my notebook?” He stammers out, spinning around to look for it.

“Oh, is this it?” You ask, picking up an identical notebook to yours next to your slightly rolled away luggage. His face immediately softens at the sight of it, his eyes almost brightening. “Wow, we really are a mess, huh?” He laughs nervously, swapping notebooks with you.

“Y/N.”

“Lin.”

A single best of silence passes between the two of you, before your watch beeps at you. You glance down to it to see that your flight leaves in five minutes, and panic washes over you. “Sorry Lin, but I don’t wanna miss my plane. Nice talking to you!” You shout over your shoulder as you take off in a dead sprint for your exit, which is now within sight.

Frantically waving down the flight attendant like in the movie Home Alone, she graciously reopens the door to the plane for you, and you quickly take to your seat, pushing your carry on into whatever overhead space you can find.

The seatbelt light flickers on overhead, and you try to settle into place. Luckily, not many people are on the flight to St. Louis, so you have the row to yourself. The flight attendants flow into the isle to do their normal routine of safety, but you tune them out and set your notebook on your lap, digging out a pencil from your backpack, ready to write again. That taxi driver really gave you a new idea for a character that helps advance the plot of your musical.

Flipping open to a random page, you skim over everything, trying to find the right area to start again. Let’s see, Laurens and Hamilton have a thing for each other, Angelica has a thing for Hamilton, Jefferson is a magenta ass-wait. Since when did you have a Laurens? Or a Hamilton? Or an Angelica? Or a Jefferson? When did they all develop a thing for each other? This handwriting doesn’t look like yours, it’s too nice for scribbles.

You thumb through the other pages, becoming more and more frantic as you see the same penmanship sprawling across the other yellowing pages. Where did all of your work go?! When did it get replaced with this- this- what do you even call this?!

Then it hits you. The clumsy yet cute man that tackled you. The awkwardness of the encounter. The panic over notebooks.

Oh no.

Lin has your notebook.

And you have his.

———–

Please give me feedback on this story, because I’ve been away so long!

Tears Are What Makes You Human

I’m the one they tell stories about.

Never more than a hushed voice, or a hurried whisper in passing, but I know. In my classes I always have at least one spot open on either side of me. In line at the cafeteria the older students look back to make sure they aren’t taking the last thing they think I might want. I know no one’s birth name, not even those I might consider a friend.

I know exactly when the change was too, in how my fellow students view me.

My dormmate had disappeared for a night before returning, pupils a little too slitted to not be like Them, but who was I to say anything? The change was not unusual at campus, and Hay had been more depressed than before anyway. Staying out late, carrying more candy than iron or salt.

No one said art majors weren’t already a little Lost.

We had never really gotten along greatly, but he had been a grounding presence for me, an easy source of chatter to draw me out of the math calculations that consumed me. I don’t know why I chose Elsewhere U as my university, seeing as I had planned on being a civil engineer, but I had been drawn into the beauty of it when I toured the campus. Our group of 15 had returned as a group of 16, but details.

After Not Hay had taken over, I noticed small things. Batteries missing from my calculators, thrown in the waste bin and covered with crumpled papers. All the fruit gone from our shared mini fridge, replaced with food that looked a little too ripe for the season. I started eating at the cafeteria more often after that. My side of the room was always left untouched, but I still left more ramen seasoning packets under my pillow and in my dresser. July had told me it was better to be safe than sorry, words that campus lived by.

Not Hay would try and help me with my homework sometimes in exchange for me playing a small tune my Nana had taught me on a fiddle that had been passed through generations, but they weren’t much help. I always told them I appreciated the effort though, a small nod of my head that could be interpreted as a bow.

But that’s not why I’m the one they tell stories about.

The finals for the first semester of the year had creeped up on me, resulting in many nights staying awake on at my desk fueled by nothing but energy drinks and cafe mochas as I worked on advanced quantum physics questions. I had just wanted to build bridges, not understand how the universe worked on a quark scale. I could tell I was upsetting Not Hay by the icy looks I felt on my back. Not that Not Hay slept.

I don’t remember how long I was in the library before, or how I got so far back in between the shelves of books whose names I couldn’t pronounce, but I had found a desk and an outlet, and honestly what more did a university student need as they crammed for their final that was worth 75% of their grade.

I had been working over the same problem for over an hour, several steps needed to find the final value but I was stuck on the very first one. I could have been muttering to myself, or maybe They had just sensed my panic. I hadn’t spoken to anyone in several days, even if I had seen Not Hay most of the time. Not Hay never seemed to speak while I was in the room, something I had been thankful for at the time.

“Are you alright?”

The voice had started me so badly I had marked up my paper with a twitch of my pen. I remember trying to find my voice, knowing it was rude to leave a question unanswered. The girl in front of me seemed to take my silence as an answer anyway. She had looked over my station of worn down pencils, crumpled up papers, and my long empty coffee mug I had taken to stabbing in distracted worry, intelligent eyes scanning my notes before looking at me again. Her freckles reminded me of constellations, the way they appeared and disappeared across her pale skin like stars.

“Are you happy?”

Her voice seemed to come from behind me, even as I was facing her. Looking back, she could have been trying to get me to make a deal with her, but at the time all I could do was cry. No one had asked me if I was happy for years, my family pushing me to follow the lineage of engineers before me and my classmates too caught up in their own studies to notice.

I didn’t answer again, instead letting my head fall to the desk as I sobbed. A cold hand was placed on the crown of my head cautiously. That was all the invitation I had needed before I had thrown myself at the girl and sobbed in her arms.

I missed my final.

Not that it would have mattered.

I had cried myself to sleep, for once not dreaming of failing out of school, but instead of a tall and spindly creature with hair as fine as spun silver and eyes as white as snow. They soothed me, the same voice as the girl from before ringing through my ears. When I woke up I was much closer to the entrance of the library than I had been before, my textbook and notebooks stacked neatly and my coffee cup gone.

I looked at my notes, unable to read anything.

I don’t know if it had been a curse for dirtying Their clothes with my tears, or a pitied gift meant to free me in exchange for my tears, but either way I grew to be grateful for it.

I switched majors after a brief conversation with a guidance counselor. I could still do everything up to basic calculus, and so decided I’d look at teaching careers instead. I had always liked children, and the small town at the bottom of the hill had opened a new primary school suddenly.

But that’s not why I am the one they tell stories about.

They tell stories about me because I had been given the Sight when the Fair One had taken my ability to cry.

I have been having lovely conversations with Not Hay lately. About riddles and dances, all smiles and twisted words as students hurry by us, pretending not to hear the hiss in our voices.

[x]

bfl (boyfriend bestfriend lover)

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

star of the show: NCT’s Jaehyun

word count: 1,545 words

Originally posted by why-jaehyun

opening line: “Although your boyfriend is highkey a manipulator and gets petty at times, you still love Jung Jaehyun for being there for you when you need it the most.” 

*happy birthday jjh you make me swerve too hard for you but I still love you very very much, you dimpled cutie.* 

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veritatem inquirendam [seek the truth] (frank castle)

(gif source)

(original request: AU in which Frank is younger, and he and reader are college students. There’s a heated debate in class and everyone disagrees with Frank except the reader. After that, Frank starts paying more attention to the reader and hanging out with her after class, until he realizes he’s falling in love but she has no idea he is until her best friend tells her.)

(this is terrible i LOVE college frank i love this soft soft boy. what a nerd. i hate him. no warnings on this one except mentions of food and some sexism early in the story!!!)

(tagslist: @doct0rstrange, @caryled, @kurtwxgners, @atari-writes ! if i’ve forgotten you or you wanna be added to the tagslist, just send me a message!!! <3)


The professor is wrong. She knows it, but she can’t say it. You can’t say “you’re fucking wrong” in front of a classroom of fourty kids. Instead of speaking her mind, she bites her tongue and clicks the cap of her pen up and down, up and down, trying to tune out the professor’s voice.

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Closer - Archie x Reader

Archie x Reader request 

Reader: Y/N 

This was a quick idea that came to mind after someone requested with something that didn’t have to do with Jughead as the romantic entanglement. Hope you guys like it. 

Word Count: 1250


You sat there waiting for the bell to ring, doodling in your notebook. You looked up as your eyes were drawn to the bright red hair in front of you. He turned around, “Hey, do you have an extra pencil?” This had become a weekly occurrence, enough that you already had an extra pencil handy. You handed it to him.

Biology was rather just a run of the mill class. And with the exception of the time Cheryl Blossom had admitted to know something about Jason’s murder, not much else was exciting about it. 

 *ring*

The final bell rang and you couldn’t help to notice that Ethel, your lab partner, was absent. While looking back up from your drawing, you had noticed that Cheryl wasn’t in class either. You gave a slight exasperated sigh knowing what the teacher would do next. 

“Y/L/N! Andrews! Your partners today and for the assignment”. 

Archie turned around and gave a slight smile before grabbing his books and joining the seat next to you. 

You could feel your nerves tense up. Here was the new star of the football team and one of the nicest guys forced to talk to you for at the next 50 minutes and for predetermined time after. You had a crush on Archie for as long as you could remember. You could pinpoint it back to the 6th grade. Back when it was just one classroom and you were assigned to sit with each other. You would help him with his math and he would make slight little jokes with you. 

As he sat down, you couldn’t shake the nerves of how he made you feel. The class passed by in a haze, with you just trying to focus on the sheet in front of you. And then you were given project proposals on a presentation that each partnership would have to present the following week. 

Archie quickly looked over the sheet, “do you want to do this at my place?”

“Uhhh sure”, the few words barely tripped out of you mouth. 

“Okay. Will today work? I’ve got a game tomorrow”, the next bell rang and everyone around you started to grab their stuff. 

You slowly got your books together, “Yeah, that should be fine”, you were trying to find some confidence in your words. 

“Alright, I’ll find you after school”, Archie gave another smile and a slight wave and then headed of class. 


It was the end of the day, and the last bell had rung. You were at your locker putting away your books, slowly trying to prepare yourself for Archie’s. You had to get out of your head and you thought, “just focus on the assignment and you’ll be fine”. 

“Ready?”, you looked behind the door of your locker and there was the flame red hair in front of you once again. 

You nodded, “yep”. You just kept thinking that you probably had to get more than one word out if you were actually going to do the assignment. You made your way out of the school with Archie about one step in front of you along the way. 

A few moments went by when Archie finally decided to break the silence. “So…how’s your art going?”, he gave a slight smile while looking to you. 

You tried to match his step now and while slightly amazed that he had remembered. “Good. There’s a student show next week but I’m still deciding what paintings to choose”, you returned a similar smile. Your turn to talk - “How’s the music?” 

“Going well, I think. I’m writing everything down now and I’m trying to get more creative with my lyrics”, you could tell he was happy to talk about it. 

For some reason you blurted the word, “Poetry”. 

Archie looked a little confused, “what?” 

“You should read some modern poetry, it will get ideas flowing and you can get more complex lyric structure ideas ”, you felt a little nervous again. 

“Oh. That’s not a bad idea!”, Archie seemed a little chipper now. “So. Is there something you’re working on now?” 

“Uh yeah. It’s this contemporary mash up of ideas put together. The main color scheme has a lot of reds and warm tones but it’s a mixture of this thing in my head,” Your hands were expressing your words now. “It’s like a combination of a galaxy, a black hole and then lightening but also has this cellular texture to it”. Your realized you were rambling. “It’s just something abstract that I couldn’t get out of my head….” 

“I get that”, Archie seemed a little surprised by how much you were talking but nodded along to it. “Sometimes I get a lyric in my head and it bugs me until I can get it down on paper and have a tune to it”. He gave a bigger smile. 


You were finally at Archie’s as he unlocked the door and headed back to the kitchen. You followed suit. He placed his backpack on the counter and you plopped yours in a chair, digging out your science notes and the paper with the project on it. 

“So who do you like?” Archie seemed chipper again while you lightly blushed.

“…what?”, you weren’t sure what he was talking about. 

“Artist wise. Like, who’s your favorite painter?”. His curiosity seemed natural.

“Oh”, you were trying to keep your cheeks calm now. 

“Probably a tie between Egon Schiele and Chuck Close….I suck at portraits so I envy them and their style for it”. 

He gave a small laugh. “I have no idea who those people are”. 

Your giggle followed his laugh. “Here”. You popped out your phone and showed him artwork from both of them. 

“Wow. The size of his stuff are crazy!”. He had your phone in his hand now.

“Yeah he has this whole pulley system to hoist himself up”, you showed him a photo of how Close structures out his paintings. “See?” Suddenly you realized Archie’s whole body was hovering over you. 

Your face got slightly blushed again. His face looked back at yours, his eyes intent into your pupils. Suddenly his eyes looked to your lips for a second. He looked back up and then back down to them again. Before you knew it, Archie’s lips were on yours, his hand slightly around a side of your neck. The kiss was long, but sweet, sincere even. You just felt his gentle lips on yours. 

“Uhhh…Arch?”. Upon the words heard you both split your bodies away from each other in a flash. 

“Dad! Uh…hi! We’re just working on a project…” his eyes drew back to you and you were beating red. 

“Yep. That’s exactly what that looked like….uh and you are…”. 

“This is Y/N…”, Archie slightly gestured his arms to you. You gave an awkward wave. 

 “Oh I remember you. You were in elementary school with Archie right?”, Mr. Andrews hadn’t seem to catch the motioning that Archie was doing to get him out of the kitchen.  

“Yep…that’s me”, your eyes barely looked at Mr. Andrews. 

Finally realizing that Archie was embarrassed “Well I’ll be in the den if you two need anything”. He grabbed his stuff and headed to the other side of the house.

Both Archie and you looked at each other and gave a small laugh simultaneously. “Well that was memorable”, Archie’s hand was slowly trying to reach yours now. 

 You smiled down at his hand, “that it was”. You gave a gleeful smile again.

The Great Backpack Switchup

@ushibakawaka: aww you’re too cute, this request wasn’t bad at all! I actually really loved it! Thanks for requesting, I hope you like it(:

Originally posted by visual-17

Pairing: Mingyu/Reader

Genre: don’t be fooled by the summary, this is pure fluff

Summary: In which a tampon, a notebook and a dildo lead Mingyu to his future girlfriend, or a sex addict, either is valid. 

Author’s Note: I may have made this a lot weirder than I should but oh whales, I think it’s funny. Do you guys care for profanities by the way? I have a sailor’s mouth constantly, so I never really censor myself but if you guys want me to start putting in a warning please let me know! I don’t want to offend anyone!  And just a side note: I’m not going to be able to write every request I get, just because I don’t get inspiration to write from the scenarios that are requested. Don’t be offended! I just suck at being creative sometimes. I do keep the idea in my drafts just in case an idea suddenly pops into my head! 

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Be My Valentine? (Stark!Reader x Peter Parker)

Word Count: 2265

Summary: The reader and Peter secretly like each other, and plan to hang out on Valentine’s Day. As friends. *wink*

A/N: Just a little Peter imagine I felt the need to write. I love me some Peter Parker x Stark! Reader! WOO! Enjoy this babes!


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Upgrade

Summary: Genos gets a minor upgrade, and Saitama is intrigued.

Words: ~1300

Rating/pairing: General. Saitama/Genos fluff, pre-relationship

Note: I wrote this mostly to try and get something written. It’s silly with just a touch of feels.

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Flower Girl and Star Boy

pairing: john laurens x reader!

word count: 2880

warnings: bad fluff, there might be a swear or two in there somewhere idk

summary: john laurens moves into the house next to your uncles and you grow up together, getting to know each other every sunday after church. he loves drawing, stars, and his turtle, Washington. you couldn’t help but become enamored with this boy; you just hope he feels the same way about you…

a/n: basically this was an idea that came to me after seeing all that wonderful fanart of John bein made of stars!!! i also hc john as a serious #artist for whatever reason, so that’s where that part of this came in. i hope this okay, it’s not really hamilton-related but it has ya boy in it!this is also probably bad, sorry - also sorry if something like this has been done before…


After church every Sunday, your family went to your uncle’s estate, where you then stayed until after it got dark to spend time with the relatives you wouldn’t see often otherwise. You didn’t really like it there – you felt so small and insignificant in a house full of adults and your older, taller siblings. But there was one thing you liked about it – in the backyard of your uncle’s house, there was a field of flowers of all different kinds, sprouting up from the soil. Every Sunday after dinner, before you left to go home, you would go into the back and admire the flora stretching out in front of you, a sea of scattered pastels and greens and whites.

Except one day, it was different.

The house to the right of your uncle’s had been on sale for as long as you could remember, which was surprising, because you didn’t understand how anyone could pass up this view. For whatever reason, no one was biting. However, you noticed two months ago that it had finally been bought, by a family your uncle said was ‘nice.’ You hadn’t seen anyone from the family yet, adults or otherwise, but on this early evening day in late May, there was a young boy, sitting in a lawn chair, sketchbook in his hand and a straw hat resting atop a mountain of curls. He looked around your age. Stepping tentatively through the grass, not to disturb any flowers, you walked over to him.

“Hi,” you said softly. “Are you one of the kids who just moved in here?”

The boy looked up at you, and the first thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful collection of freckles spread across his rosy cheeks and nose. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m John Laurens.”

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too busy lying to myself (to see your color)

Sort of based on the prompt: You get an ‘impression’ of your soulmate when you turn 18 or something but all I got was a strong smell of bananas or an overwhelming feeling that Thatcher was a good prime minister or an image in my mind of a fucking unicorn.

In a world where you get an impression of your soulmate at a certain age, Trini tries to navigate life and what it means that she saw a pink pterodactyl flying through the sky for her impression.


AO3 - Link

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2

Betty Cooper sat at a booth at Pop’s diner as she impatiently twirled the spoon inside her nearly-melted milkshake. With one quick flick of her wrist, the dainty peach-colored watch told her it was getting very late. Where was he? She thought to herself. The blonde had a date that was supposed to begin more than half an hour ago, it was nearing the hour mark. Maybe he was in trouble? Traffic? The possibilities of the disasters were endless. But she checked her phone and there were no missed calls or text messages.

She leaned back into the booth and tugged on the sleeves of her gray sweater. The ponytail bobbed as she looked around the diner. Perhaps he had arrived and was sitting on the opposite side? Highly unlikely though since it was just her and a family of four inside; waiters and cooks were the only other occupants. She hoped they weren’t judging her too harshly for waiting for her nonexistent date. Any other stranglers would be easily spotted.

A frown pressed over her plump red lips. She had decided to change up her lipstick color instead of the same pink tint. The teen had on a navy blue dress that was a little fitting to the body, something that wasn’t usually part of her wardrobe. She had on flats with a cat face at the tip. After eating a spoonful of the melty milkshake, she was ready to leave.

Betty opened her purse and took out a couple of dollar bills, laying them on top of the table. She grabbed her phone and clicked the messages icon. Opening a new message, her fingers moved furiously over the keypad. “Thanks for the date, ass! Not!” But then she hit the arrow, erasing the message. “I hope everything is okay. Maybe next time?” And she clicked send, dropping the device into her small purse.

"You still have some shake left?”

It didn’t take long for her to register whose voice that belonged to. The green-eyed girl glanced from the glass to her friend who wore a lopsided smile.

Keep reading

im not ashamed sneak peak 3

a crude drawing of a hand with writing on all sides sits on a whiteboard. dots between words, a poorly drawn fish on each side, and colored pencil skills that should probably be much better if this movie took place in a high school, but in Im Not Ashamed Alternate Universe, everything is out of place.
“ive always been drawn to hands” the Christian Girl muses

“i think its because its the way that we touch people.” unlike a real high school, where everyone would look up and possibly jeer at this potential sexual innuendo, everyone remains painfully indifferent. you can feel the awkwardness in the room. one girl is fucking passed out on the table. jesus christ rachel, ever heard of a intruiging opening sentence?

the camera pans out to Dead Girl and the rest of the uninterested class. Everyone looks like they left high school 4 years ago, especially this one chap in the corner. My oh my that’s motherfucking Keurig Careless!!!!!!!! his hair: freshly shaven in true skinhead fashion, arms: fucking ripped to shreds, legs: stunted, face: 40 years old. he is picking at the callouses on his hands on top of a hilariously thin blue notebook. What The Fuck? Why is his notebook so thin. How come dead girl has 2 binders and a piece of paper and a pencil and everyone else has a single notebook? did she try to cram it all in in one class? i suppose this would be the best place next to study hall, because im guessing most Inspirational Life Changing Speeches in this class are just as boring

“compassion is the greatest form of love that humans have to offer” christian audience gasps at the wise-beyond-her-years rachel faux scott. actually compassion is one of the only forms of love u can offer but whatever floats your goat, Fakechel.

“I have this theory that if one person goes out of their way to show compassion, they can start a chain reaction”
thats so deep rachel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hOLY shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nazi and dildo’s heads perk up at the word “chain reaction”. nnnnyess huehueheuhehe,,,, that is what Wiiii are going to do,,, a chain reaxtion to Blow this SchooL up hehuehueheuhe. the audience screams in desperation and horror. perhaps? perhaps this speech will change their minds?? perhaps rachel will convert them to godliness… yes…

“how do you know that trust? beauty? and compassion wont make the world a better place to be in?”
this is the most generic pep talk ive ever heard? like, if someone put a gun to my head and told me to recite a speech that you would find in an american girl magazine so he could write a letter to win the affections of said gunman’s estranged daughter, this is the shit i would say.

“tomorrows not a promise… but its a chance…”
we see the teacher looking at her proudly. also theres a girl that looks Exactly like Rachel in the background looking at her? is that her force ghost or something

“.. you just might start a chain reaction”
she grins. shes such a deep thinker.

the students roll their eyes dramatically, not focusing on rachel whatsoever. well that was for nothing.
she continues smiling in the silence. uhh…

..

..

“and whats behind all this is my faith” she puts down her arms to reveal a huge-ass cross necklace. This is like, margaret white style shit. its probably as big as her palm? minimalism. minimalismmmmmm….

“im a christian!” she says, smiling. obviously. every girl that wears mormon clothes like that, cross necklaces, listens to britt nicole at maximum volume while walking through the hallways at school and crying whenever she sees someone dressed in black and calls them “lost souls” is a christian girl, okay? it’s like coming out in a high school nowadays like… everyone’s gay, rachel. every single person is gay so you can chill out.

they pan to the jock guy.

and then to dylan with his psycho stare

and then to eric with his condescending smoulder

“im not trying to be weird or convert anybody or anything like that HUEHEHE,,, i just wanna be real with you guys…. Dudes, i just wanna be Cool and Swag with u guys, Ya dig?? just tryin to kick it chilly willy with my brUhs, ya see what im sayin… and let u know who i is, dawgs”

she stares again at the indifferent class. see? nobody cared. she smiles awkwardly. the second hand embarrassment is slaughtering me. my fucking eyes. please. rachel.

“jesus gave his life for me… and i will give my life for him…………………………………………….

………

"just wanted to get that out there”

she takes her crude hand drawing and promptly returns to her chair.

“thank you rachel.” the teacher says. the audience is aware of her purity and innocence, but also strength and endurance.

rachel sits at her desk with a sigh, plopping her notes onto her table in preparation for the next speaker.

“up next we haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaveeeeeeee….”

“eric and dylan.”

they look up with her, eyebrows raised and knuckles cracked. this video will fucking destroy. this video will fuckin KILL BITCHES!!!

“lets watch their videyyoh… on how they would change the world…”

the teacher pops the dvd labeled “hitmen for hire” into the tape player. she turns off the lights and walks to the back of the class. the tv statics like some sort of Lost Episode creepypasta.

jeffrey dahmer sits on a chair, facing the viewers
“people are always bullying me, i dont like it”
he swirls the chair and two trenchcoated bad bitches walk into the view of the screen. 

Rachel’s disapproving and paranoid eyes rest on the screen, concerned about what this could be about…. this… this isn’t about changing the world for the better? what the heckeroni??’

the video plays in the background as twink nazi smiles condescendingly at rachel. bitch whatcha gonna do? we had to listen to your bullshit

“you know we cant have weahpons on the skewl grounds.. but if you can get them away, we’ll take em’ out for ya. for 2000$, we’ll get rid of them. permanently.”

a white hat nerd walks up the stairs, neandering around, listening to 50 cent in his headphones when suddenly

eric and dylan are pointing pvc-pipe guns at him!!! shitty sound effects play as the jock is defeated.

the classroom is slightly more alert, putting their hands over their mouths in Horrified Shock! , but dead girl is still, of course, dead.

gunshots ring through the room as rachel turns to the teacher “do we have to watch this?”

dylan does a finger gun at the television.

“no, we don’t.” the teacher says. “OOKAAAAAY i think we’ve seen enough!” the teacher yells, turning off the tv

“thaaaaat” dylan begins “would make the world a better place”

O.O

afterwords, rachel’s a-skippin up the stairs, smilin bright like a diamond, when suddenly, 

shes confronted by two trenchcoated figures, cloaked in the darkness of the stairs. they corner her and yell “what’s your problem? >:O”. love this. love how eric and dylan would probably go cry in their room if someone interrupted them, they wouldnt confront them. literally the only time they had balls in their ENTIRE LIVES was nbk, so they wouldnt confront rachel…. just Sayin….

“what?” :0

“i know you did that.” eric snarls

“did what?” :0

“i didnt stop your stupid jesus speech” HOly Shit!!!! boyyyyy HE SAID IT!!!!

dylan speaks up “you think youre better than us?

"no :O… no im not better than anybody.” wow and shes humble????? she has zero flaws omg i love her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! mom i wanna be just like rachel when i grow up.!!!!!!

“oh i know youre not” he gets closer….. cloooserr….

they stare. lock eyes. dream weaver begins to play in the background…

“i gotta get to class.” she stutters, holding back tears.

“youre just like aaahll the others” dylan jeers, striking her in her single nerve,,,, her utter originality,,

“compassion!” eric says “yeah thatll work!!!” wow what a fucking demon??/ what a devil gosh darn!!!!!!!!! i hope he dies at the end of the movie. i hope Both of them die at the end of the movie. that’d make this movie have the BEST ENDING EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ill pray abt it hold on!

the scene fades to black

request: the8 badboy!AU, highschool!AU ; insp. by the 6th prompt here!

pairing: minghao/you

a/n: *sweats* after 6 months of not writing a scenario, i am back!!! honestly i got a bit carried away so it’s a bit lengthier than usual, so i hope this makes up for it since this is my first minghao fic :’) 

2,684 w.

The sound of hurried footsteps and hushed voices outside your bedroom window is what pulls you away from your hour-long studying session. It’s five minutes past midnight and you’re reviewing your notes in preparation for your chemistry test in the morning, but now that your attention is elsewhere, you realize that further cramming will do you no good. You sigh and shut your notebook, stretching your arms behind your back as you get up to see who (or what) could be making such a ruckus outside your house this late.

When you peer outside your window, you barely make out the outlines of three hooded figures running straight for your backyard door. Your eyes widen as you watch them shove it open and run deeper in until they’re out of sight. You freeze in place as panic washes over you because oh my god they’re going to break in and murder me why do I have to be alone tonight out of all nights?

You grab your phone and rush into the master’s bedroom where a window gives the perfect view of your backyard. Creeping closer to the window and peaking through the blinds, you see that the three of them are standing in the middle of your backyard, two of their backs turned to you. The other figure is facing you, but you can’t quite make out their face.

“Did we lose him?”

“I don’t know. But it’s best to hide here until we’re sure.”

You sigh in relief. So their intention isn’t to break in.

“Minghao? What do you think?”

Minghao? You squint your eyes as the figure takes off his hood. Even in the darkness, his fiery red hair is visible and your jaw goes slack. Minghao’s in several of your classes, though he hardly shows up for it to feel that way.

“Yeah, let’s just wait here.” He cards a hand through his hair and looks around as if sensing your gaze.

You’re about to step back from the window just in case he sees you, but something in the corner of your eye makes you stop mid-way. Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can see that your garden—or what was your garden—has been trampled on. You’ve been tending to that garden for months now, and anger builds within you when you see some of your peonies limp in the soil.

You spin on your heel and down the stairs, clutching your phone in your fist. You make your way over to the living room where the backyard door is, flicking the backyard light on in the process.

You yank the door open and step out, pointing an accusatory finger at the three boys, “Hey!”

The three of them look at you in alarm, but before they can say anything you continue, “Look, I was going to let you guys off for trespassing after you leave and all, but how are you going to repay me for my garden? I’ve been working on it for months! And you,” you point to Minghao, “there’s a chemistry test tomorrow! Did you even know that? Actually, do any of you know how expensive it is to maintain a garden like this? Why my garden? You guys are so careless!”

By now you’re heaving from your mini-rant as the three boys stare at you in shock. You cross your arms. “Well?”

Much to your dismay, one of them has the audacity to laugh“Come on,” he nudges the one standing next to him. “Let’s get out of here.” He shoves his fists in the pocket of his hoodie and brushes past you like it’s nothing. “Nice pajamas, by the way.”

You blink a few times before looking down at your current attire: a Hello Kitty pajama set you got for Christmas two years ago with fuzzy slide slippers to match. Feeling your face warm, you glare as Offender #2 joins Offender #1′s side.

“Let’s go, Minghao. You have a test to study for, remember?” he snickers.

And then they’re off, leaving the way they entered, not even sparing you a glance. Minghao watches as you sulk over to your garden. You can feel his eyes on you as you kneel down to pick up a crushed peony. “Just go,” you murmur, standing up to walk past him. “Jerks…”

“Hey,” he calls out right before you close the door behind you. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“How?” you frown. Even though Minghao’s always had the reputation as the school’s “bad boy”, you never paid attention to such labels. But now that you have a reason to dislike him, you’re starting to believe the rumors. Maybe he truly is just a delinquent who causes needless trouble. “I’ve been growing this garden for mo—”

“For months. Yeah, yeah. You’ve said that already.”

Your glare deepens.

“I’ll find a way. But for now, I have to go.” He pulls his hood over his head and for the first time, looks you in the eye. “It’s ______, right?”

“Huh?” you ask, surprised that he knows your name. He looks at you expectantly and you clear your throat. “I mean, yeah. How’d you know?”

He smirks. “It’s pretty hard not to know the name of teacher’s pet, don’t you think?”

_ _ _

Unsurprisingly, Minghao misses the chemistry test the next day and doesn’t show up to class for the days that follow. You twirl your pencil between your fingers, chin resting on the palm of your other hand. “He’ll make it up to me my ass,” you mutter, remembering the amount of peonies that died at the hands (well, feet, technically) of those three impudent boys.

When class ends, you’re out the door, ready to go home and take a nice nap. With both of your earbuds in, you scroll through the music in your phone until you find a song you like and press play. You walk for five minutes until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

When you turn around, Minghao’s staring down at you. This time, his hair’s dyed a whitish grey that contrasts against his black hoodie.

You pull out your left earbud. “What do you want?”

“Here,” he holds out a mini succulent plant. “We’re even now, right?”

Frowning, you take the succulent from him and eye it. “This is your idea of making it up to me?” You narrow your eyes at him as he shrugs. The succulent is admittedly cute, and as you inspect it more, you notice black ink written on the bottom of the vase. Curious, you tilt it backwards until the words becomes readable.

Seokmin Lee :^)

Pausing, you look up at Minghao, to the succulent, and back at him. “Wait,” you say slowly, realization hitting you. “You stole this?”

You shove it back in his hands and glare, angry at yourself for actually thinking he could be true to his word.

“I got it for you,” he says simply, not understanding why you’re so upset. “You don’t like it?”

You look at him like he’s crazy, but his unwavering stare makes you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Forget it,” you say. “Just put it back where you took it from.” You shove your earbud back in your ear and continue your walk home.

When you open your backpack to do homework later that day, you find the succulent sitting inside the space between your notebooks. 

_ _ _

Minghao, for reasons unknown, has become increasingly adamant on compensating you for the garden he and his friends ruined. Last week, he tried giving you a rose before you pointed out that it was clearly plucked from the school’s garden. You figure that it’s a pride thing that drives him to do these things; otherwise, a rebel like him and a straight-A student like you would never have crossed paths again following the incident last month.

Today, it’s a pack of sunflower seeds.

“You know these are for eating, not for growing, right?” you deadpan, looking up at him. “I can see you’re really trying. But what’s done is done, so you can stop feeling indebted to me or whatever.”

Minghao opens his mouth to speak, but you continue before he can, voice much softer this time. “You’re nicer than your other friends. I appreciate it.”

“Nice?” he frowns. “I’m not nice.”

“Then why do you keep doing this?” You purse your lips, clutching the pack of sunflower seeds embarrassedly. “People think you like me. Someone saw you give me the rose last week. You know how fast rumors spread in this school.”

“Let them think what they want,” he counters, expression unreadable. You’ve never felt so vulnerable under someone’s gaze. “Plus, some rumors turn out to be true.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck. “What do you mean?”

Minghao shrugs, feigning cluelessness. “Dunno.”

The words come out before you know it: “Do you like me?” You bite your lip immediately after the words slip out, mentally cursing yourself for asking such a forward and ridiculuous question.

Minghao, however, seems unfazed. “Wanna date?”

You definitely weren’t expecting that. At a loss for words, you can only pray that your face isn’t as red as it feels. Minghao looks amused as your mouth opens and closes as you struggle for a response.

“I don’t date,” you say lamely. “I’m focusing on my studying.”

Minghao quirks a brow. “So no?”

You feel as if your heart rate’s increased tenfold and your mind’s gone blank, and all you can see is Minghao watching you grapple with words like you suddenly forgot how to speak and why in the world isn’t there a class on Dealing With A Minghao 101?

You and Minghao are polar opposites. You study diligently and get good grades, never skip class, and are well-liked among teachers. Minghao’s known for his cold indifference and causing all sorts of mischief outside of school. You’re not very popular, either, so you can’t find any plausible reason as to why Minghao would want to date you.

“I… I don’t know,” you manage to choke out after what feels like an eternity. “I barely even know you.”

“Isn’t that what dating’s for?” For someone so relaxed, he’s strangely persistent.

“I mean,” you start. “We could maybe… study for the upcoming chemistry test together?”

Minghao scoffs and you look away sheepishly.

“What was I expecting,” he mutters. “Fine.”

_ _ _

You’ve never felt so many eyes on you before. It’s a rare sight, so you can’t be too mad at the staring students. Had it not been for your suggestion, Minghao would likely never be seen in the library, let alone with you of all people. There are papers splayed over your shared table, but so far you’re the only doing the actual studying. He’s been staring at you for, you glance at the clock hanging above a shelf of books, the past thirty minutes.

“Minghao,” you sigh, looking up from your notebook. “What’s the difference between molarity and molality?”

“Your nose twitches when you study,” he says plainly.

You give him a pointed look but before you can retort, a smirking figure grabs your attention.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The pretentious Jihoon has his fists in his khaki slacks and his chin up like usual. “______ sharing her smarts with someone? Who would’ve known,” he muses. “Tutoring will only slow you down. We’ll see who lands the highest score this time.“

“Actually, tutoring shows you’ve mastered the material well enough to teach it,” you roll your eyes. “And I’m not even tutoring him. We’re studying together.”

Jihoon scoffs, grumbling a “whatever” before stalking off.

“Who is that punk?” Minghao asks, eyes still on his retreating figure.

You shake your head, brushing your hair out of your face. “I guess you could call him my rival. He’s been like that since we were in the fifth grade.”

“The competitiveness or the rich kid look?”

“Both,” you reply sadly.

Minghao adjusts his baseball cap so that his bangs flatten above his eyes. “Want me to beat him up?”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him. You can’t decide what’s scarier, his threat or the fact that he’s actually serious. “No, don’t do that,” you frantic. “I don’t want you beating anyone up.”

Minghao doesn’t look satisfied with your answer but doesn’t say anything. The next ten minutes are spent in silence, you reading over your notes and doing practice problems while Minghao idly scrolls through his phone. He gets up, sliding his phone into the pocket of his bomber jacket, and tells you that he’s going to the bathroom. You nod without looking up, letting him know you heard him.

"Finally, he left,” you hear someone a few tables away breathe out in relief the moment he’s out of sight. “I was going to leave myself if he didn’t.”

“Dude, same.” His friend shudders. “He’s so scary.”

You try to pay them no mind as you train your attention on your studying, but as they continue their Minghao-slandering you realize that you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over.

“What was he doing here, anyways? He should just go back to his shady business with his gang or something.”

“Tell me about it. And why was ______ with him? He probably threatened her into it.”

You slam your pen on the table. All eyes darting to you, you turn to the two gossipers. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to study,” you force a smile. “So if you could please—”

And what they ask next is all it takes for you to snap.

“______, is everything okay? You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

Feeling the anger coursing through your veins, you stand from your seat, palms laying flat on the table. “What do you two know about Minghao? Have you ever even talked to him?” You don’t care if you’re drawing more attention to yourself as you press on, “You have no right to judge him. He has feelings too, you know. What makes you think that I’d have to be feeling sick to want to be with him? You guys are so judgmental! You guys are such…” you remember what Minghao said earlier, “…punks! You guys are nothing but—”

“______, that’s enough.”

Alarmed, you turn around to see Minghao standing there with his usual expressionless face. You turn back around consciously and shut your eyes tightly; just how much did he hear? Would he be proud that you stood up for him? Angry that you caused a scene?

Minghao tugs on your wrist, “Come on.”

Wordlessly, you pack up your things, head laying low in shame though you ironically don’t regret a thing. Swinging your backpack over your shoulder, you exit the library after Minghao.

“Um,” you cough, trying to catch up to him, “how much did you hear?”

“All of it,” he says casually, looking down at you. “You like me, don’t you?”

You stop walking and blink up at him. Minghao peers at you over his shoulder and you swear you see stars.

You suck in a breath and, feeling brave, say, “Well, we’re dating, aren’t we?” You rejoin his side and feel proud when you see him looking shocked this time.

But the surprise is quickly replaced by a smirk as he throws his arm over your shoulder.

_ _ _

“Geez, who knew gardening could be this tiring,” Junhui, previously known to you as Offender #1, sighs, wiping away a drop of sweat from his brow.

“Don’t forget expensive,” you remind him, using your hand as a shield from the sun.

“Can we take a break?” Soonyoung (Offender #2) whines, fanning himself. “It’s hot!” He tosses the trowel on the soil and let’s out a groan.

“No stopping, punks,” Minghao scowls, and you can hear Junhui mumble “he’s turned soft” under his breath.

“Hey,” you elbow Minghao, “you should be helping them. You did this too, remember?”

“I tried making it up to you, didn’t I?” he challenges.

You end up shoving Minghao into the soil, but thankfully this time the peonies are unharmed.