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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

aflame (iii).

pairing: firefighter!rengoku kyoujurou x cook!reader

genre: fluff, modern! au

word count: 2374

iii. home visit

It’s absolutely freezing.

For the rest of the day after you had made up your mind to visit Kyoujurou’s house, you had been so nervous that you had proceeded to burn three eggs, serve a customer potatoes instead of tomatoes, and nearly set your stove on fire.

Kyoujurou would be disappointed.

Luckily for you, the customers had all happened to be your regulars, and so had been more interested about your ‘budding romance’ with Kyoujurou than getting upset. After an endless amount of teasing and you coming dangerously close to burning the pan, Aoi had finally decided to ban you from taking any orders.

“Just go and make some porridge for Rengoku-san. I’ll take care of the rest of the orders.” Aoi had said, shooing you out of the kitchen even as you had attempted to resist with all your might. “The dinner crowd has almost all been served, so I can manage the rest!”

And that’s how you had ended up here, with a large thermos of chicken soup and porridge in a bag, standing in front of an apartment complex in a part of town that you’d never been to before. Blowing on your chilly hands, you pull out the slip of paper from your pocket to check the address one more time. You swear that if you ever find out Shinazugawa-san has pranked you, you’re going to fill his ohagi with the sourest umeboshi you can find.

This is it.

The place looks rather well to do, you note as you step cautiously into the building, with nicely potted plants and ambient lighting in warm tones. You’re proud to say that you only missed the button in the elevator twice, both of which can be blamed on your freezing hands instead of how ridiculously nervous you feel the closer you get to his home.

“Unit twenty... unit twenty...” You mumble as you walk along the corridor, glancing up at the numbers on the doors. “Unit twenty should be right... here.” You stop before an apartment and glance up at the door.

Should you call him? What if he isn’t home? What if he’s asleep? Hesitant, you raise your hand to the doorbell and press once very gently, hoping that you aren’t disturbing his rest.

A few seconds of nerve-racking silence pass before there’s the sound of something falling over from inside the apartment, followed by a startled yelp of “aniki, you’re supposed to be in bed!”

Right, his message had mentioned a younger brother. You’d never really wondered if Kyoujurou had any siblings, but now that you think about it, he does seem to fit very well into the role of a big brother.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! Just focus on your homework, Senjurou!” A familiar voice calls out, and for a second, you desperately feel like running away as your nerves surge once again.

Your feet, however, stay rebelliously rooted to the ground.

Before you can take off at a sprint, the door swings open.

“Good evening, how can I help you–” Kyoujurou’s words trail off when he notices that it’s you standing at the door, wearing what’s possibly a painfully awkward expression on your face. He’s dressed in a pair of sweats and an oversized graphic tee with the words ‘Kimetsu Firefighting Crew’ on the front, his cheeks slightly flushed and hair thrown back in a messy ponytail.

He stares at you.

You try your best to smile naturally.

“G-good evening, Rengoku-san.” You manage to get out, trying your best not to stumble over your own words. Inside, you’re wringing your hands, wishing for the ground to just swallow you up whole. When his eyes lift slowly to meet yours, your breath catches in your throat.

How can one man look so beautiful even when he’s sick?

“Chef-san?” Kyoujurou’s voice is a little raspy, as though he’s spent the entire day asleep. It only serves to muddle your mind further with just how attractive he sounds. His eyes are wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

At his question, you swallow, nerves twisting uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. “Well, you said you were sick and I was worried about you, so Aoi got your address from Shinazugawa-san earlier.” You hold out the bag, lips suddenly dry. “And you mentioned that you wanted to eat my cooking... so I brought some porridge and chicken soup over for you.”

Kyoujurou doesn’t answer for a few seconds, staring down at your proffered bag with his lips slightly parted. Unable to bear any more of this awkwardness, you thrust the bag into his hands with a forced ‘I hope you get well soon!’ and immediately turn on your heel in an attempt to flee. Before you can so much as take a step, however, you feel warm, callused fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

His skin is so warm against yours.

“Your hands are freezing. I’m sorry that you had to come all the way here in this weather.” Your heart thumps wildly, breath trapped in your chest like a fluttering bird as Kyoujurou encases your hands in his larger ones. He brings them to his lips so that his breath dances hotly over your skin, golden eyes flickering up to meet your gaze. There’s something unreadable in their depths. “This might sound selfish of me, but would you mind if I say that it makes me terribly happy?”

What?

“Oh, brother, who is this?”

Wide golden eyes meet yours from under Kyoujurou’s arm and your first instinct is to squeal at how adorable his younger brother looks. The only downside to his appearance is that Kyoujurou’s hand releases yours gently to take the bag; you miss his warmth immediately. “Senjurou, this is–”

“Older brother, you didn’t tell me that you were dating someone!”

“This is Chef-san from that eatery I was telling you about – wait, what?”

“Wahh, it’s you! Brother talks about you a lot, so I feel like I know you already!” The miniature version of Kyoujurou chatters, his voice surprisingly low for a child. Aside from his voice, he almost looks like he could be a carbon copy of Kyoujurou, except that the lines of his face are gentler, his eyes softer. Right now, they shine with excitement, reminding you of a puppy wagging its tail. “It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Rengoku Senjurou, aniki’s younger brother.”

Rengoku-san talks about you to his little brother? Hopefully only good things, you think nervously.

“Nice to meet you too, Senjurou.” You give a wave of greeting, heart in tiny pieces from just how radiant Senjurou’s smile is. Is it a Rengoku family trait? “Have you had dinner?”

“Not yet, I was going to microwave some leftover stew after finishing my homework. I wanted to brew him a soup,” he points at his older brother, “but he forbid me because I have an exam to study for tomorrow. He was whining about wanting to eat your food earlier, so I’m really glad you came!”

A surge of happiness rushes through you and you have to fight to contain your smile. “It’s no problem, really. I hope you enjoy the food I made, there’s enough for the two of you if you want it.” Having done what you’d set out to do today, you take a step back and wave, your heart light in your chest. “Then, I’ll be going first.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Kyoujurou’s sudden question takes you by surprise.

“Well, no, but I was intending to once I got home–”

“It’s getting late and you must be tired from working all day. Eat with us, I’m sure there’s enough for three.” Kyoujurou says, and you glance at him with wide eyes. His smile softens as he looks at you. “Please.”

How are you supposed to be able to resist him when he does that? Silently, you nod your head, not trusting your mouth to speak.

“That’s great! I’ll go set up the table.” Senjurou takes the bag of food and disappears into the apartment with a little skip in his step. Both you and Kyoujurou watch him scamper off, before Kyoujurou suddenly lets out a gentle chuckle. “For a moment there, I thought the two of you had forgotten about me. He’s been excited to meet you for awhile, but it seems that you get along amazingly well with him already. Thank you.”

“He’s a sweet child, there’s no need to thank me.” You hum, then turn to smile shyly at him. “Well, are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, yes! Shoes at the door, come on in.”

The initial step into the Rengoku household is full of trepidation, but the warm and homely environment puts you at ease almost immediately. The walls of the hallway Kyoujurou guides you down is decorated with multiple pictures of the Rengoku family since Kyoujurou’s infancy, and you have to stop yourself from gushing over how cute he was. Further down the hallway, the largest portrait hanging on the wall catches your sight – a beautiful woman with long dark hair, dressed in a traditional kimono, hands folded in her lap and a serene expression on her face.

You can’t look away.

“Oh, that’s my mother.” Kyoujurou says, suddenly, and you turn to see him staring at the picture wistfully, a small smile on his face. You nod quietly. “She’s very beautiful. Is she home?”

“No, she passed away from an illness when I was younger.” Kyoujurou explains in reply, and you immediately hasten to apologise, horrified.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking and ended up being insensitive!”

“It’s alright!” Kyoujurou reassures you brightly, grinning as usual once more. “You couldn’t have known. My mother was a lovely woman and a great cook, I would have liked to introduce you to her as well. Unfortunately, it seems that only Senjurou inherited her skills in the kitchen.” He chuckles a little at that. “I’ve never had much luck with a stove.”

You giggle slightly at his words, and Senjurou’s head suddenly pops out from behind the corner. “Brother, Chef-san, let’s eat! The food will get cold!”

The two of you share a smile, before following him to the kitchen.

After dinner, you insist on staying back to help wash the dishes with Senjurou, Kyoujurou shooed back to his room to rest in spite of his pleading to join the two of you. Perhaps it’s something to do with genetics, but the younger Rengoku son is remarkably easy to talk to, the two of you dissolving into casual chatter as you soap the dishes.

“Brother always talks about the new dishes you let him sample, I wish you could teach me how to make some of them too!” Senjurou tells you, rinsing some of the plates under the tap. You laugh. A corner of your heart flutters, unbearably shy at the thought. “Rengoku-san does? What does he say about them?”

“He says you’re the best cook in the world.” Senjurou babbles excitedly, and your face flushes at the unexpected praise. Sure, Kyoujurou has said that to you many times, but you thought that was just him being polite, or simply how he is to everybody. “And that your cooking is so delicious, it tastes just as good as Mother’s!”

You pause, turning to glance at Senjurou. The younger boy notices the shift in mood, the bright grin he’s wearing melting into something more nostalgic. “I was really young when our Mother passed away, so I don’t have many memories of her. But one day, Older Brother brought back some of your cooking to let me try, and he said it tastes just like Mother’s.” Senjurou’s gaze is gentle as he looks down at the soap suds swirling in the sink. “I feel closer to my Mother when I have your cooking, and I’m sure that Brother, who knew her for longer than I did, feels that even more strongly than I do.”

You look down at your soapy hands, lips pressed together in shock. Is that how much your cooking means to him? You never knew...

“Father was never around much after Mother died, so it was mostly Big Brother who raised me. He’s always taken good care of me, but because he’s so strong, no one really thinks that he needs support. Knowing that he takes comfort in your cooking makes me feel relieved. ” Senjurou continues, before he turns to look up at you with a hopeful smile. “That’s why... I hope you’ll keep cooking for him.”

“Mmn.” You hum, voice suddenly thick and your eyes prickling a little. A mixture of emotions swell in you. Senjurou suddenly looks alarmed, waving his hands. “Oh, I’m not saying that you have to or anything, I didn’t mean to force you to do something you might not want to – ”

“No, it’s alright. I love cooking for Rengoku-san too.” You smile at Senjurou and pat the top of his head. His face scrunches up cutely at your touch, before he beams back at you. “He saved my life, you know.”

Senjurou gasps. “Brother told me about it before! He’s so cool, I want to be like him when I grow up.” Suddenly, he glances at the doorway to the kitchen before leaning in close, hands cupped over his mouth conspiratorially. You bend down slightly to bring your ear closer to his lips, curious.

“You like Older Brother, don’t you?”

“W-Wha–” You panic instantly, nearly dropping the plate in your hands as you flail about. Senjurou giggles, clearly delighted at your response. “Am I really that obvious?”

Senjurou nods, and you bury your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Don’t tell him,” you squeak, unable to look him in the eye. Senjurou pats you on the head reassuringly.

“I won’t.”

A few more washed dishes later and a promise to teach Senjurou how to make baked sweet potatoes, you leave the Rengoku home with a heart far lighter than you’d come in with. On the way out, you catch a glimpse into Kyoujurou’s room – he’s curled up on his bed, arms wrapped around a pillow as he sleeps peacefully.

The sight alone makes the entire trip worth it.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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erensonly · 3 years

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Cuddle Buddies (Bakugou x Black! Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Chapter 5: FaceTime?~

1, 2, 3, 4

Alright, let me tell you something. When you actually sleep, like really get some decent sleep, you will refuse to wake up, solely because you don’t sleep as much as you should. So when you felt your phone vibrating endlessly, it kinda pissed you off. Rolling over, you grab your phone.

Bakuboy💥

gm dumbass

get up big head

get up im walking you to school

ARE YOU IGNORING ME??

Big Head🐥

why tf you blowing up my phone??

needy ass

ill text you when im ready

Walking to the bathroom, you handle your business, hop in the shower, and put on your uniform. You walk to your vanity and just look for a minute, not knowing what to do with that mane on the top of your head. So you go with a simple looking, but actually kinda hard hairstyle. A slicked back ponytail.

Finally finished, you fix your edges and grab your lipgloss and mascara. You know the drill. Walking downstairs, you see a big ass pomeranian talking to your mama. Why is he here?

"Good morning mama," you walk towards her, kissing her cheek. "Why are you here?"

"Because I can. Your mama let me in."

"Duh. Lets go. Bye mama"

"Yeah, bye mama." This cocky fuck. Dragging him out of the house, you punch him in the stomach. "Don't call my mama 'mama'. We ain't married."

"Don't hit me." He bonked you on the head. Like deadass bonked you on the top of your head. "And if I marry you, I can call her 'mama'."

"I- No comment. C'mon before we're late."

Finally arriving at hell, you go to sit down and plan how much you're going to pay attention today. Then Denki walked up to you. You two hadn't interacted much besides small talk here and there. He was cute, kinda pervy, but cute.

"Hey Y/N!"

"Hey Denki. You need something?"

"I was wondering if I could... maybe get your number?" He was very shy. It was adorable.

"Yeah." Taking his phone, you put your number in his contacts. "Text me, kay?" You smiled and turned back around. Then, you noticed it was colder than Santa's ass crack. Putting your arms in your shirt, you put your head down, waiting for Aizawa.

"Damn, it's cold in here." You hug yourself closer, trying to trap any body heat in. One thing you hate to be is cold. Cold is bad. Very bad. Then, you felt a tap on your thigh. You were going to kill this boy one day.

But he handed you a hoodie. Maybe he won't get killed yet.

"Here big head. I saw that you were cold." Awww he was shy.

"Thank you," you muttered, flustered. If you weren't black you would've been blushing, but you can't. The hoodie smelled good. You ain't never smelled something so heavenly in your entire existence. Putting it on, your mood was instantly lifted, but you wouldn't show it.

~Timeskip to lunch ~

Grabbing your bento box, you walk the cafeteria. Looking for an empty seat you hear someone yelling. "Big head! Come sit here" You look to see the Bakusquad sitting at a table together. Walking towards them, Bakugo scoots over so you can sit next to him.

"L/N, hey!" Denki said.

"Hi Denki!" Then you saw a pink blob, a red rock, and tape dispenser. "Hey Sero. Wassup Mina. Kiri, hi," You said to everyone, facing your attention towards each person. Opening your bento box, you see some wonderful, delectable, delicious gumbo and garlic biscuits. You grab a spoon out of the bento and start to eat, then you notice everyone staring at you.

"What? Is there a problem?" Then they all looked away awkwardly. "No... Of course not."

"So what are y'all looking at?" Looking at them confused, you realize that they had probably never seen someone eat gumbo before. "OH! Y'all wanna try it?" Everyone nodded their heads. Usually, you didn't share your food, but they were curious so maybe this one time you could share. Grabbing an extra spoon, you give everyone a spoonful.

Their eyes lit up instantly. "Big head, what is this?" Everyone looked at you expectantly. "It's called gumbo. It's really big in the States as well as other places. You like it?"

Without even answering, he grabbed your spoon and bento and took another bite. This motherfu- You looked at everybody else. "You guys like it?"

"Y/N, this is amazing! I need to have more of this."

"I can probably get Mama to make some more and you guys can come over and eat."

Then you turn and see this blonde bitch still eating your food. He completely pushed his food aside and started gobbling yours. "Damn! Slow down, this ain't even yours." Taking it back you eat more of it. Enjoying it, you feel someone staring at you. Mind you, everyone has been talking throughout the whole lunch break up to this point and whoever was staring didn't stop.

"What Bakugo? You want some?" He turned around flustered. Of course would be flustered, emotionally constipated bastard. "Here," you push the bento towards him to let him eat again. Before he could start eating again, you take the spoon. "Say thank you."

"Tch," he scoffs. Giving him a look, he mumbles, "Thank you, dumbass." Better. "You're welcome, asshole."

"You two are cute." Mina. Of course she would say that bull. "I know I'm cute, I don't know about him though." You started to laugh at Bakugo. The punched your thigh and kept eating. This big ass hedgehog just punched me. Cocking your hand back, you slap the back of his head. As soon as Denki, Kiri, and Sero heard that you hear: "I like ya cut G."

That pissed Bakugo off. He started yelling and cursing at us, drawing attention to the table. Ew, attention. "Shut up! Stop yelling you damn hedgehog. You got everybody looking at us like we some damn fools. Be quiet!" Silence. "Thank you."

It's time to go now, grabbing the spoon and the box, you start to walk back to the classroom. Noticing you still had the hoodie on, you realize that Mina wasn't only talking about you sharing your food. Discombobulated, you put your head down and wait for everyone to get back.

~Another timeskip because I'm too lazy to write anything else for this part~

Finally, the end of the day. No more being social with people. You start packing up as usual. Getting ready to walk out the door, you realize to still had the hoodie on. You started to take it off, then a hand stopped you. "Keep it." Unsure, you look at him. "Are you sure? I can give it back if you want it."

"If I wanted it back, I would've taken it already. Keep it, big head."

"Thank you. Now, let's go" Grabbing his wrist, you drag him to the exit. It was the usual route, and more bickering amongst each other. Finally at home, you say your goodbyes and start to open the door when you felt a tug on your hand. Then a kiss on your cheek.

He snickered. Was he copying you? Sneaky fuck. "Text me," was the last thing he said before walking away towards his house. How dare he be so smooth all the time. You were gonna catch him slipping one day.

Walking inside, you start to unwind. Sitting down at your desk to get started on the homework you didn't finish in class, you remember to text Denki and Bakugo. Now you were distracted. You and Denki sending memes and tiktoks, and you and Bakugo with your usual bickering and casual flirting.

After you finished your homework you went to lay down. Then, you got a text from Bakugo.

Bakuboy💥

FaceTime?

Before you could respond you had an incoming FaceTime call. Answering the phone you propped your phone up , grabbing your bonnet/scarf and started to wrap your hair while you two started to talk.

"What are you doing, Big head?"

"Wrapping my hair so it stays protected while I sleep and because it saves time so I won't have to do too much in the morning."

You continued to answer his questions about your hair. You two had been talking for hours, about everything and anything in between. Eventually, you heard a snore. He was sleeping. Looking at the time you saw it was 3:53 A.M. Sinking further into your bed, you slowly start to fall asleep.

You finally felt at peace while sleeping since It had happened. You could get used to it.

And that is a wrap. This piece of crap shouldn't have taken 3-4 days to write but it did. As always, I hope yall enjoyed it. And thank you soooooo much for 400+ reads on Wattpad. I really appreciate it. I go on wattpad everyday, and everyday there is a new surprise for me there. When we hit 500 reads, I will try put out a new chapter everyday for a week. Thx for reading ♥

#black reader #bakugou x black reader #kenmasblackwife #bnha #mha #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader

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teruthecreator · 4 years

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Red Lines, Blue Hearts

hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes.

reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!!

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The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red.

Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did.

His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused.

Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time.

“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).

Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear.

Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother.

It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks.

Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently.

The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain.

The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty.

So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet!

Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but--

You know what? Never mind.

He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?

After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.

A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined.

Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him.

“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.”

“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!”

“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder.

“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!”

“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful.

“‘M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!”

“I-It was, though--”

“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see.

“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness.

“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.”

Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next.

Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away.

They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed.

And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue.

#taz graduation #maplekeene #taz grad #taz fitzroy #taz argo #sir fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #ignorance cloud on #chaos!fitzroy au #accesscodex

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antisocial-af · 3 years

Text

SH HS AU Part 1

Quick Explanation:

This series will only be posted on here(Tumblr). I will continue it on my own time but this is sort of drabbles or ficlets from this universe that pop up in my head. I won’t be posting them as a fic anywhere else this is the only place and this will be the only fic I do this way. Thank you for your time.

Rating: G

Wordcount: 724

Tags: High School AU, Teenagers, Meet-Cute, and Malec.

Summary:

Follow the lives of the teens at Alicante High School and sometimes the teachers. This part is Alec’s meeting with Magnus. Enjoy o/

Story:

Alec groaned internally as he looked down at the chemistry worksheet. The school day had just started and he was already ready for it to be over. Or at least for this period to end. Alec carefully peeked over to the other students and noticed his adoptive brother trying to copy someone else work again. Alec rolled his eyes and sighed he had hoped Jace would’ve learned to do his own work now that they were Seniors.

An intrusive knock came before the classroom’s door flew open as Coach Garroway followed by a pair of students Alec didn’t recognize entered the small classroom.

“Can I help you, Mr. Garroway?” Mr. Starkweather cocked his eyebrow at the sudden intrusion.

“They’ll be joining your class,” the coach informed Mr. Starkweather and handed him two folders. “They both just transferred to the Senior class from a different school.”

“Alright,” Mr. Starkweather confirmed as he turned to the new students. “This will be your homeroom, you are going to start and end classes here as well as be here for any of your science classes.”

“They have their schedules, don’t worry,” Coach Garroway answered for them before smiling at the two new boys.

“Good,” Mr. Starkweather accepted before he turned to his class and rang the annoying bell he kept on his desk to call for their attention. “Everyone, I know it is rare this late in the year but we have some new students joining us.”

The science teacher gestured to the new pair and prompted them to introduce themselves with a small impatient wave.

One of the boys rolled his eyes and grumbled.

“Excuse my little brother,” the other spoke up. “He gets shy in crowds.”

“Stop saying that, idiota.” the younger one defended himself.

“Raphael we talked about it,” Coach Garroway gruffed from behind them. “Even if they can’t understand you it is still not good to call others idiots.”

“Magnus can understand me though,” Raphael supplied rolling his eyes.

Alec watched as Coach Garroway fixed another look on the students that caused him to roll his eyes but nod. The scene reminded him of similar times when he has to break up his younger siblings’ fights at home. Alec kept looking but his gaze always fell back to the older brother of the two, Magnus.

‘That’s a magical name,’ Alec thought to himself as he let his mind fantasize. ‘Like a prince in a fairy tale.’

“My name is Magnus Bane and this is my younger brother Raphael Santiago,” Magnus introduced them with a slight flourish of his hands. “We transferred here from out of state and I hope to join this school’s drama club or choir.”

Alec’s gaze followed Magnus’ hands as he started to hear the whispers from the girls behind him and he couldn’t blame them.

“Why don’t you both sit next to Lightwood,” Mr. Starkweather ordered as he looked around the room for any empty chairs and finally pointed to Alec’s area. “Right now it’s a study hall period for those who ‘forgot’ to do their homework since you both don’t have any I don’t care what you do as long as you stay quiet and no phones.”

Alec watched as they both approached him and jumped a bit when Raphael slunk into the chair behind him.

“Here you go,” Magnus’ melodic voice guided his vision up into the most stunning brown eyes in Alec’s teenage life. “You dropped this.”

Alec gulped and nodded as he looked down at the pencil Magnus was holding out.

“Oh,” Alec blushed before trying to blink away his embarrassment. “I- Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling,” Magnus offered it back with a wink before he slipped into the desk to Alec’s left.

Alec slinked down further into his chair and wished by some miracle his varsity jacket would swallow him up and away from this. Magnus for sure thought he was an idiot now. He couldn’t even answer him properly. Alec hoped the other blamed it on it being early in the morning.

As the clock kept ticking in the classroom and the science questions seemed more and more like a foreign language, Alec started to wonder if someone was rewarding or punishing him when Magnus transferred to his school. All he did know was he wasn’t going to be able to finish homework now.

#antisocialaf #malec #malec fanfiction #my writing #shhsau

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mcgrathandwives · 5 years

Text

Maria Hill A-Z

Honestly can she just wife me already?

× A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

Maria at first doesn’t show any PDA, she’s more of an ‘all about the job’ kinda gal, y’know? She’s comfortable with affection around the Avengers and Fury but anyone else is a no go. She does it solely to keep you both as safe as she can.

× B = best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

Ofttt, it’s hard to pick just one. There’s your first date, your first ‘i love you’, your first mission together or there’s the first morning she woke up beside you, your birthday, your first anniversary.

But her favourite, her absolute favourite memory would have to be the day you both moved in together. Boxes surrounded you both, laughter could be heard throughout the apartment, Maria had finally got you to agree that moving in together would be beneficial for you both.

The day itself couldn’t have gone any better, the moving went well, Tony and the other Avengers helped, Steve, Tony, and Bucky doing most of the heavy lifting whilst Bruce and Sam navigated where everything was going. Nat and Wanda didn’t do much but laugh at them but the two of them did hang back to help Maria unpack the kitchen stuff. Peter and Clint helped you carry the last of the boxes from the truck. Scott came by with pizza for everyone, after that they left with the promise of coming back once you’re both settled in. There were still a few boxes left, they could wait. Both of you sank on to your couch, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer.

× C = cat or dog person (this is pretty obvious)

To me, Maria Hill screams dog person.

× D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

Keep working with Nick and the Avengers for as long as needed but really she just wants to have a semi-normal life with you.

× E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

If she isn’t working or at one of Tony’s parties then, she’s spending all her time with you. Doing absolutely anything you want, from cooking together to just getting in the car and seeing where it takes you.

× F = first date (what was it like?)

Maria counts it as the first date and you really don’t have the guts to argue with her. It was your first time at one of Tony’s parties, you came with Natasha, she’d been trying to get you to work up the nerve to at least talk to Maria.

Maria, however, was having the same issue with Steve and Tony. They’ve been trying to get Maria in the same room as you. Eventually, as the night passed you both found yourself’s at the bar. Stealing glances at each other until you finally snapped, swigging your drink. Making your way over to her, “If I try a cheesy pick-up line do you promise not to fire me?”

She was quick to shoot back, “I can’t promise that.” From that moment onward you tried your best pick up line on her, it made her laugh. The minute you heard it, you knew then and there that you needed to hear it daily. After a few drinks together, Tony had seen to it that everyone paired up and started to dance, Maria, extended her hand, dragging you with her. She walked you back to your apartment that night and asked you on a second date.

× G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

Poor pick-up lines, your back and forth banter with Tony and Thor and honestly how quickly you got Fury to like you.

× H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?)

She gives hands down, the best hugs on the planet. She’s always the big spoon and will, without a doubt always pull you into any hug she can manage. Even at work.

× I = instrument (do they play an instrument?)

Honestly, I see Hill being a guitarist or at least was before her time with SHIELD

× J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

You.

× K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

Maria is nothing but a passionate person, she’s just got a lot of love to give and will happily give it all to you. She’s got absolutely no problem, pulling you into a kiss the minute you walk through the door or into the same room.

Her hands will make their way over any part of you she can reach, from sliding them into your pockets or slipping them into your belt loops- just to pull you closer. One sits on your neck as the other finds itself in your hair or both find comfort on your face as she pulls you both as close as she can.

× L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

Blushing, she’s a blusher y’all. She’s also a stubborn woman. She won’t tell you how she feels because that’s just how she is, she needs a lot of encouragement or to be physically forced into a situation where she needs to tell you exactly how she feels.

× M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

Absolutely anything to do with Fury. She doesn’t talk much about her life before SHIELD, but since you both got together everything positive she mentions involves him, any milestone she’s hit herself, Fury’s always been right there by her side.

× N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

Discussing work at dinner. She doesn’t mind bringing work home with her- if anything she does it the most but the golden rule is it stays out of the kitchen.

× O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

She didn’t really have much of a plan for herself until she fell into her SHIELD life since then she’s just wanted to climb the ranks.

× P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

WORLDS. PROUDEST. MOTHER.

She’s crazy involves, she’s everything you could ever hope for from talking to your bump, painting the nursery, going to all the doctor’s appointments, to getting involved with their homework, going to every school event, full on sobbing at every milestone they hit, sobbing even more once she gets her arms around them. Maria’s all about her family, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her kids and they know it.

× Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

She always says nothing can surprise her anymore since she’s fairly open to every possibility of anything non-human existing.

× R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

Maria does it all. Flowers, surprise dates, chocolates, she’s not exactly big on Valentine's days since she showers you in all of her love daily but will always have something planned, normally something small that means something to the two of you.

× S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

You, because she’s cheesy like that.

× T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

You’re always subconsciously touching, it’s become second nature to the both of you. Holding hands, entwining your fingers together as your both going through the work on your tablets, swinging your legs onto the other's lap, resting your heads on each other's shoulder.

If you’ve had a hard mission, she doesn't like to suffocate you in affection but needs to be in the same room as you, just you know she’s there. You need a sense of normality when you come back, it helps you deal with whatever happened, but if you need it then she’s more than happy to wrap her arms around her.

If she’s been on a rough mission then the only place she wants and needs to be is with you. You’re there the minute she steps off the Quinjet, all through her medical, the debrief and then you’ll drive back home, never letting go of her. The second you get home, she’s dragging you to the couch. She just needs to let everything out.

× U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

You- you’re forever falling over her stuff, files, clothes, shoes. Anything and everything is left laying around.

Maria- she can’t stand you making random noises especially if she’s doing paperwork

× V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

There are albums of photos, polaroids, framed photos littered around your apartment and there’s plenty of videos and copies of your photos saved to a secure hard drive, you’re spies after all.

× W = wedding (what was the wedding like?)

Simple, intimate, all the Avengers (new and old) and the entirety of SHIELD attended and Fury officiated the entire thing. Maria looked breathtaking as usual and you scrubbed up well thanks to Tony.

× X = eXtra (what’s an interestingness fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

She needs to sleep on the window side of the bed as well as being a fan of Frank Sinatra.

× Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, sent, word anything)

She hates the word moist only because Tony’s said it so much to annoy Steve and Bucky.

× Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

She’s not a light sleeper but is fairly alert if there’s a lot of movement on the bed.

She loves tucking her head under your chin and falling asleep on your chest as you play with her hair. Listening to your heartbeat really helps her calm down. She knows you can handle yourself in any situation and that you’ll do anything to protect her so she can let herself be her around you.

#maria hill x reader #maria hill headcanons #maria hill fic #maria hill hcs #i'll be posting more tomorrow #this took 4 tries to post so here's it worked.#queued

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taediuswrites · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Agreements

A writing commission for a friend. Their directions: a story between a vampire lawyer and a fae teacher, with all other details to be left to my discretion.

I liked this, a lot.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1500

Want to commission me? Check out my commission page here!

“von Reiter! Baby! Hey, can you help me out with something?”

As a voice is heard behind the closed wooden door, upon which was emblazoned ‘Edvard von Reiter, Attorney at Law’, the sole inhabitant of the office glances up from his papers. The moonlight shone in through a window, yet only a candlelight illuminated the office otherwise. Papers sat piled high upon a mahogany desk, and vials of reddish-ink were lined up next to quills- a veritable high-speed signing station. Glasses are shifted up the man’s nose through a sharp-nailed finger pressing to the bridge; his other hand reaches up to sweep ebon-black hair atop his head, down to brush his dark tailcoat into place. By the puzzled look on the sharply-dressed man’s face, whoever was beyond the door was an unexpected visitor this evening. “Enter. How may I assist-”

No time to finish that sentence. In a blur of colour, a figure throws wide the door, dashes in, and slams it behind them. The bell that sat atop the frame jangles wildly, ringing out discordant notes, until some moments pass and silence comes again. In that same time, the figure dashes towards the chair, hovering behind it.

Immediately, the man’s eyes half-lid, and his brow falls again. Lovely. A fae.

“You know, for a vampire’s office, this place is positively clean!” A voice more high-pitched than it sounded behind the door rings out from the winged little creature. Blue skin was offset by verdant adornments, vines and leaves coiling around a lithe form. A shock of purplish, leaf-like hair sat atop their head, and pointed ears seem to perk as the figure took in their surroundings. “You’d think there’d be dust and papers scattered about, a bloodstain, maybe, but this is-”

A sharp clear of the throat cuts the fae off, the attorney folding his hands upon his desk. “Do you have a case for me, or not?” von Reiter replies. “I am a very busy man.”

“Right! Right. The name’s Elvina.” The fae pauses to bend their upper body forward in what might be construed as a bow. “So, you know all about the rules and laws and all that un-fun stuff, right?”

Von Reiter dips his head in response. “That is, indeed, my line of work. Explain to me the situation, and we shall proceed from there.” A piece of paper is fwipped from a stack; a quill dips into blood-red ink, and his chin lifts to encourage the other to speak.

“Excellent!” Diminutive hands clap together once, a surprisingly bell-like sound echoing out. “So! I was...eh- summoned by a mortal, right? Wizard, lovely chap, nice and amicable. Wanted their children to learn aaaaaall about the magic that runs through the worlds!”

“An understandable choice.” Notes are scribbled in shorthand, von Reiter’s eyes not leaving the fae. “And an intriguing choice of professor- but, continue.”

“Why, thank you! See, I knew you would understand. A-hem- but there’s a little...snag. Tiny one! Really, almost insignificant-” Here, an index and thumb come dangerously close together. “I noticed that one of the kids- lovable little scamp, but not the best at his homework, not by far, let me tell you!- wasn’t doing so well! So, I may have- may, mind you!- invited him to come home with me for some...extra lessons!”

The scratching of quill to paper suddenly stops. Perking up, von Reiter redoubles his focus on Elvina, eyelids coming close in a narrow squint.

“...And I left a little...gift behind!” Elvina smiles, bright, yet nervous.

“...You what.”

Finally, the fae comes to the desk proper. They rise over the chair, arms folded over their chest as blue-hued fingertips drum in anxiety. However, they did not sit in the chair before von Reiter’s desk; rather, they ‘sat’ in mid-air, hovering gently above it through the fluttering of glitter-spewing wings. “And maybe the wizard was a little bothered by it. Maybe. Really, I don’t see what the big deal is.” This comment comes with a roll of too-bright eyes. “The child was failing in their lessons, so it’s only right that, as their teacher, I take them for personal tutoring.”

A hand runs down the lawyer’s face. Had his skin not already have achieved its ghastly pallor a hundred years ago- or about that, since after a while, one simply stops counting- he would have paled considerably. He had a feeling where this was going, and thoughts roil like a tempest through his mind. Such flagrant disrespect for the rules of this realm! Such gross mishandling of a delicate situation! And yet, the realization hits that he should not be surprised in the least by this, considering this would-be client’s peoples’ predisposition towards trickery.

That did not mean, of course, that he could not be disappointed.

With a heavy sigh, von Reiter shifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he regards the fae. “Allow me to get this straight. You are a-”

“Teacher, yes,” Elvine cuts in. “Magical theory, history of the Wilds, so on and so forth. Go on.”

A blank stare precedes von Reiter continuing. “...And you were instructing human-”

“Children. A wizard’s children, specifically, thank you!”

“...to which one of them was failing in their lessons.”

“Really, you’d think a magical child would be better at understanding magical history.” Elvine’s hand lifts to roll at the wrist, as if to summon understanding.

Lips peel back, revealing sharp canines, as von Reiter sucks in a strained breath. “And as such, to help one of them…’better understand’...

“I knew you’d get i-”

Both hands suddenly rise, and slam down upon his desk. “You kidnapped the child!?”

That got the fae startled; arms and legs flail, and they tumble from their place in the air to the chair below them. The sudden action sends a shower of glitterdust across the room (something that, no doubt, would make the vampire’s forehead vein bulge in annoyance if his blood yet flowed). “I- I didn’t kidnap them!” they shout back, arms lifted in a defensive posture. “I simply- intended to expose them to the fae side of things! It’s hands-on teaching!”

“Hands-on?! You spirited the child away and replaced them with a changeling!”

“It’s what we do!”

That brings a scoff, and for von Reiter to stand, one hand outstretched over the desk. “Show me the contract?”

“I-” Blinkblink. The silence is palpable as Elvina looks back towards him, head slowly canting off to one side in confusion. “The, ah… the contract?”

His stare bores back, levelled directly on the fae’s eyes. “The contract. Between you and this wizard. The deal to instruct their children. You did bring a copy of it, yes?”

Once more, the fae blinks, unevenly this time. Pointed ears begin to droop, slowly but surely. “Ah...heheh. The...contract, right!” Their hands slip from their arms, beginning to pat down at the pockets of their ‘clothes’. “Yes, well- I- I mean, I may not have a copy here, precisely…”

Von Reiter waits in silence.

“And- you know, us fae- we really deal more in pacts than contracts! All that paper- truly, it’s a waste of the trees! We hate to damage the, ah- the trees, and...ah...”

“You do not have one, do you?” he says back, the words affixed firmly between a statement of doubt and a question in hope that maybe he would be wrong this time.

Gradually, Elvina’s smile creeps upwards, while the rest of her body shrinks back in awkward timidness. “...Not...exactly…”

Reaching behind him, von Reiter sweeps his tailcoat down. His cravat is adjusted- the cloth came undone, just a touch, in his outburst- then with gradual, purposeful motions, he sits back onto his chair. “And you thought to seal this pact with no formal proceedings, so that you might do as you pleased with your ‘lessons’. Am I on the mark?”

Elvina’s face contorts in a grimace. They cringe back, consigned to their fate slumped in the leather chair. “...Yes. You know, you’re quite sharp. I see I’ve come to the right man…!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” von Reiter responds, already moving another slip of paper from the myriad stacks. Once more, his quill is dipped, and he begins to write in long, fluid strokes. His attention has finally shifted away from the fae to focus on this task in particular.

“Right. So...will you help me out?”

The vampire’s eyes shut. Slowly, he draws in a deep breath. An unnecessary gesture, of course, as he did not truly need to breathe, but yet, there was something to be said about showmanship when it came to the fae. Whether he could see it or not, Elvina did, indeed, cringe back once more- until he releases that selfsame breath, and opens his eyes again. “Do get comfortable, Elvina,” he eventually responds, drawing an ‘X’ and a sharp underline at the bottom of the page. “This is going to be a very long night.”

#writing #writing commission #personal #writers on tumblr #commission

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lights-up-divine · 4 years

Text

Rebellion, Shall We?

When students get fed up...

We were all sitting in class. Stone walls let in the early autumn drafts, so all of us were wearing the thin sweaters and barely-there jackets provided to us. All of the girls were trying to keep from shivering. Wooden floorboards lead to a wooden platform at the front of class. Ms. Rochester was droning on and on about the topic of the week, rows of glazed over eyes were gazing vaguely in her direction. Out of the exactly twenty people in the room, only three people were really paying attention. The three pre-chosen girls who were taking notes. Even though everyone’s eyes were on the teacher, their minds were on the vents. And when the time would come.

I was sitting in the first row nearest to the door, three seats down. Though I couldn’t see everyone in the room, only the teacher could do that, I was monitoring everything. From the scratches of the three pencils on the paper, to the mummers that were rising up from the back of the classroom. Turning around in my wooden desk, I silenced the mutterings with a look. It may have seemed like I did it on a whim, but I made sure that the teacher wasn’t looking. And I had to make certain not to jingle the chain that bound me to the desk. They were there so that no one could leave unless the teacher unlocked you. On a regular day when nothing was scheduled to happen I bet three people would have been either thrown out of the room, hit with the steel meter stick, or both even though we were only half an hour into class. But this was not a normal class, not in the slightest. None of us could afford to get in trouble, at least not until….

One of the notetakers dropped their pencil, it was almost time.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” I looked down at my antique watch, watching the second-hand tic down, “Six, five, four,”

Two of the girls slipped on masks, with the teacher none the wiser. Ms. Rochester had always had trouble looking up from her lecture book.

“Three, two, one.” I finished my count and held my breath. And it seemed like nothing happened.

I thought I smelled something, but those wearing masks felt it first. They fidgeted but didn’t cough, and I clenched my fist as I saw eyes begin to water. We couldn’t have done all of that for nothing, no it couldn’t be. When the teacher seemed unaffected, I had to blink back the water in my own eyes.

“Damn it, don’t tell me this was all for nothing,” I thought to myself, but just as I was giving into despair the teacher started coughing.

“And if you...and if you....just,” the teacher couldn’t even continue the lesson, she was coughing so much.

Ms. Rochester started doubling over, but still tried to continue the needless lecture. For a second I thought she had more endurance than I thought. That she was going to power through while having the reaction. I was wrestling with the fact that my initial impression of her was wrong when Ms. Rochester excused herself to the infirmary. Just as the mask-wearing girls were just reaching their breaking point. We received the vague instruction to copy from our textbooks and for a few minutes we were all quiet and compliant. But once the footsteps disappeared sighs were let out all throughout the room. Slipping the key from my pocket I unlocked my chains in a practiced motion. With an excited chill, I calmly walked to the front of the classroom, and stepped up to the teaching platform.

“Thank you, everyone, for being such model, model students today,” I started, almost laughing at how well my plan had worked out, “We could not have done this without Ms. Rochester not suspecting a thing. And the quiet environment you all created was perfect. All of you head down to the cafeteria, GiGi will have secured the cookies by now, free of charge ~of course~. Gwen, Vivian go to the Cedar Dorm, room 341. I’ll exhort you two there. And let me commend you two even though we got your EpiPens in the raid last week it’s still very brave of you two to come to class today. You guys get something very special later, trust me. And I want to emphasize to all of you, even though I’m being maddeningly vague about why we did all this, relax, everything I do, everything I ask you all, to do has a purpose.”

Once my speech was completed I went around unlocking everyone from the desks. Everyone started to head out of the classroom once they rubbed their ankles a bit. Normally I would have went on. As a sort of prelude to my speech later that night. Some verbal baiting about what I would announce that night, I needed to foster some curiosity after all. But I had more important things to deal with than my speech. With haste, I gathered up my backpack and started to escort Vivian and Gwen out the door. Though it was only when the door to the class opened and people started wandering out, did I remember I had something else to say.

“Oh right!” I said, slipping on my projecting leader voice once again, “We’ll be switching note-takers tonight, so Cecile, Sera, Phoebe, you guys are off duty.”

There was a large murmur of discontent at that announcement, but I smiled when I heard three sighs of relief throughout my fellow students.

“No matter how big of a victory we just earned,” I thought to myself,” They’ll always find something to complain about.”

True to my word I walked the two coughing students out of the building and to the aforementioned dorm. The corridors of the buildings were identical, the walls were identical, and after a few turns, even the art of the walls looked the same. It was only when I got outside of the building did I breathe easy, but even that had a dark side. As I walked on the historical cobblestone paths I saw the grass, grass the painstakingly maintained by students in detention under threat of violence if even one blade was out of place. Trees blanketing the mountains in the distance were landmarks I could never get to. Through the brittle ivy, I saw the walls, walls that both blocked me in and kept me sane. I didn’t know how I would manage outside of the walls, and just that thought made me squirm.

Cedar Dorm wasn’t too far away, but by the time we were climbing the stairs, I was half carrying Gwen. Without knocking I kicked my way into room 341, ignoring the two half-dressed girls tangled around each other on one of the single beds. Placing Gwen on the bed and making sure Vivian was comfortable on the floor, I started digging through the boxes that were piled in the corner of the already cramped dorm room.

G. Harris

V. Derintime

I found them both in the first box and for a brief second, I thought about reconsidering my views on God. Luckily the moment passed. In quick succession I stabbed the corresponding EpiPens in the corresponding girls, and after a few minutes their couching began to subside. Thanks to the masks the reactions weren’t severe, so they wouldn’t need actual medical attention. Still I needed to make sure they were both okay, and by that, I mean someone else would have to make sure they were okay. And she should already be helping. When I turned back to the room I saw that the two girls had extricated themselves from each other, and were looking concerned at the two girls who had been stabbed, finally, they were doing their jobs. The washed-out plaid sheets on one of the beds were tangled, while the other identical bed was still occupied by Gwen.

“So the peanut dust worked?” Rebecca who had been on the bed asked, clearly trying to cut the supposed tension in the room.

I internally snickered. Whatever people choose to do in their free time was none of my business, but I could never understand why so many of my fellow students choose to spend so much time in bed together. That and why they had been so focused on jamming their tongues down the other’s throats to get the EpiPens ready in advance. But I supposed that everyone had to have their escapes.

“Like a charm, Ms. Rochester will be in the infirmary for a while,” I told her, selectively leaving out the heart aching few moments when Ms. Rochester did react to the allergens we deliberately pumped into the vents.

“And one of our biggest competitors, out of the way,” Rebecca nodded.

Bee who had been in the bed with Rebecca glared at us. She had been tending to the girls who had peanut allergies, taking their temperatures, that kind of thing. Covering them with blankets and administering more remedies, “How can you categorize this as a success? Gwen and Vivian almost didn’t make it here.”

“Perhaps if the EpiPens had been ready ahead of time, or if you two met us in the hallway they would be in better shape, “ I told her in a casual tone. I had struck below the belt. I knew that, but I didn’t like how she had said that. Sure I had taken some risks, but they would all payout in the long run. They just had to have patience, they would see that they would have to.

Bee shut up after that, and I felt a bit bad. But not bad enough to apologize. Instead I watched her as she tended to the girls. “Wounded in an attack.” That’s what I would tell everyone when I gave them their special reward that night. “Brave.” That’s the word that I would use. Even before they recovered fully I was composing my speech.

“Bravely they walked into the scene of one of our surprise attacks. Knowing that even though their allergies may be severe, the cause was more important. That we would take care of them. And that is my promise to you, to all of you. I will take care of you! It may take some sacrifice, it may take some work, but all of you, all of us will be okay!”

I sighed, it wasn’t quite right. “Okay” was a bit of a passive word, but I knew that I would figure it out by the night. In the meantime I sat down on the floor and started on my homework for the day. In the past, I would have gone to my own dorm, but…. Ever since I had started all of my little uprisings people would walk in and out of my room without warning. It hadn’t really mattered that my roommate didn’t know the meaning of locks before, but now it was a real pain in the neck. Like I would be just sitting on my bed reading and someone would walk in, demanding that I get them the letter their boyfriend from back home had sent. And of course, I would try to placate them, telling them the date of the next mailroom raid. But of course, they would argue, and eventually, they would take my advice and wait for the next raid, but only if I gave them some black market chocolate. It would take like half an hour and after only three minutes of homework or reading or whatever I was doing someone else would pop in. And the cycle would start again.

That’s why I had started hanging out in other people’s dorms to do everything, even sleep. I kept a spare uniform in my backpack so I didn’t even have to go to my dorm to change clothes every day. Now that I thought about it I hadn’t been to my dorm all that week, my clothes supply was almost through. And of course, there was another reason I hung out in other people’s dorms. I thought about that as I watched Bee and Rebecca C. try not to kiss each other as they hung around. Bee was the closest thing we had to a nurse aside from the school nurses, and they would never join our side. But Rebecca, Rebecca was someone I hadn’t thought would shack up with Bee. She was one of the first leads I had ever trusted enough to organize a raid, one of the last raids of the black market to be exact, but we hadn’t talked one on one in a while. It was fun to sort of spy on my close associates and friends, at least for an afternoon. Because what were they going to do, tell me to leave?

The afternoon passed quickly, with homework and studying. School was never a high priority for me, but my role made it important that I never let my grades drop again. A grade drop would mean a referral to the councilors, and I couldn’t afford any unwanted attention to myself. 5:00, I knew that the “study groups” were meeting. The designated note-takers from every class were sharing the notes, everyone copying them in their style just in case of any surprise note checks. 6:00, the “study groups” were dispersing and people were starting their nightlife routines. Blackmarket stores were opening up in dorms across campus, selling and bartering off everything from chocolate to stamps. Of course with my representatives watching their every move for overcharging or faulty products. I shuttered and my pencil shook when I thought of monthly tax collecting coming up, but steeled myself with the fact that we would have scored our big victory by then.

“Right everything will be better by Monday night, or we’ll all be in the principal's office,” I told myself, as an ultimatum of sorts.

7:00 Vivian and Gwen were well enough to leave. Still, it had been a traumatic experience so I gave them a couple of signed sick notes. It was enough to get them out of a day or two of classes. The notes were a prize in their own right, I could see the admiration in the eyes as I casually pulled the notes out of my backpack, but they weren’t their ultimate prize. 7:30 I was done with my homework and felt fully prepared for any pop quizzes. Rebecca and Bee were fingering each other under a blanket, and I figured it was high time for me to go.

“The meeting’s at 9:30,” I reminded them, though I'm not sure that they were listening, “I need both of you there.”

I could have stopped by my dorm and gotten some rest, but the meeting that night was way too important. So I walked to the art building. And even though curfew was officially at 9:00 I was getting some weird looks from every passing teacher. If the rest of the campus was drab, then the art building that drab with a layer of yellow. For flavor. Identical, by the book, 100% on the report card art pieces were hanging, decorating, and generally brightening up the space. Of course, the halls were dark and empty. Officially all campus buildings closed at 6:00. But if you were “checking on your art piece” no one would bother you. And finally I was there, the Gallery.

It was as big as a small auditorium and absolutely chocked full of art. Craft class tapestries up on the walls and paper lanterns glittering from the ceilings made this room everyone's favorite hang out in the school. When they could get in, technically it was only open during parent visitation week and board meetings, but stealing a key was child’s play. Feature dividers were up all around the room for the sole purpose of hanging up paintings the school found acceptable. Quietly just as I practiced and had done over and over again I pushed the feature walls out of the way so that when all of the girls were gathered there would be standing room. I even used all of the muscles that I had gotten from swimming to push all the sculptures into a corner as well. But not before I committed the layout to memory. When the art teacher went into the Gallery the next board meeting, nothing could be out of place. At the same time, I knew that across campus Emma D. was preparing the space for the meeting after the big meeting. A gathering that some of my more funny friends called the “After Party”. Once I was done clearing the room I sat on the stage that was intended to hold statues, waiting for people to file in.

The first was the cafeteria/kitchen team. Ladened with folding tables and “Midnight snack” they started setting up the spread for that night. Nothing too fancy just grapes, cheese, a bit of cured meat, but they were still better than what we got on a regular basis. I talked them up as they were working, just polite chatter, nothing serious. But I made sure that the girls’ lead GiGi would be at the After Party that night. Girls seemed to be drawn to the snacks by smell and soon the room was full. Normally with so many girls in such a space would have been deafening, but all of them knew the importance of silence.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I said when I finally stood up on the stage, “As always we will start with the most mundane topics.”

I started with the freshman. Group A, then Group B, then Group C, then Group D. Picking note takers for all of them. It was by random draw so I had no say in the choices yet people still thought that I was picking favorites. It was even worse when I got to the sophomores. For yet another week I wasn’t chosen as a notetaker and I honestly thought that some girls would start knocking down tables. Bee calmed them down just in time though. The juniors and the seniors went much easier and pretty soon we were done, with the issue of note takers at least.

The complaint period was also a bit testy.

“My teacher is being so mean, poison her too!”

I told her that the poisoning was a one-time thing. The purpose of which would be revealed later in the meeting.

“I had to give Elly K. $5 and a kiss for a bag of skittles!”

Once I made sure that she wasn’t talking about the chocolate kiss I told her that I would look into it. Or more accurately I would have someone else look into it for her. Conveniently for her, Elly K. wasn’t at the meeting that night, I would make her face justice though. I promised the girl that.

“I have detention and three papers to write this week!”

Once I had thoroughly berated her for procrastinating so much, and not actually working in her study group I gave her a solution. No handouts from the cafeteria for a week and I would have someone write her essays. And I felt the future headache I would have when thinking of something to give the essay writers.

I announced for more comments or concerns, seeing as there were none I moved onto my main point.

“I’m sure that by now you have heard of our operation in Ms. Rochester's classroom” I started hearing the whispers blossom as I mentioned what was already on everyone’s mind, “To quell any rumors I will tell you what happened. Our brave field operatives Fiana and Emma B. released peanut dust into the vents that led to her classroom. As any sophomore in group C would know Ms. Rochester is very allergic to peanuts. The operation was a success, Ms. Rochester ran out of the class and Laurel K. the infirmary helper told us that she is stable.”

Cheers erupted when they learned of the operation and I paused to let them continue. Sophomores especially knew of the shame when Ms. Rochester forced them to put their own food in the trash and watched as she spit in it. When she tightened the desk bindings in response to a single sound. But getting back at a mean teacher wasn’t the reason for the operation. I thought about the look on her face as she raced out of the room. At least that wasn’t the only reason.

I put on my commanding leader voice once again, “But the real stars of the operation were the ones who really risked it all. Vivian D. and Gwen V. were in the classroom. And for those who know them, you know that these brave girls are allergic to peanuts. I gave them the option to cut class, I would have taken care of everything. But Gwen and Vivian are brave, they knew that only a totally normal class could get Ms. Rochester to let her guard down. They elected to stay in class and expose themselves to the peanut dust. Bee had their EpiPens but still, it was a risk. A risk that they have not been rewarded for yet. So Gwen, Vivian come up here, it’s time to get your just deserts.”

More cheers for Gwen and Vivian and I could feel the two girls’ popularity soaring. They pushed their way to the front, and I invited them to step up on the podium for me. Gwen’s black curls bounced as she climbed up and Vivian had to stifle a gasp. That was what I was aiming for, to seem larger than life. Once they were up beside me and staring out at the crowd, I started talking again.

“This operation highlights the one thing I have said to you time and time again as this year has gone one,” I told them, making sure to put emphasis on every word, “That we will dominate with school. It may take risks, it may take years, and it will take sacrifice, but we can do it together. And believe me, what I give to these brave girls is only a taste of what you will all receive in the near future.”

And with that, I pulled the ultimate reward out of my pocket. Two cell phones, one in a marble case and one in a flower case. And I handed them to their respective owners. The room was silent as Gwen turned on her phone, and I saw tears in people’s eyes as the start-up tone rang out throughout the room. Vivian actually did start crying when she looked at her lock screen. When the awe in the room hit its peak I spoke again.

“This weekend we will get all of the technology that this school has taken from us back,” I promised everyone, conviction filling every inch of my voice, “Ms. Rochester was only a test, this will be the true exam of all of us and all of the progress we have made. We will break into the Principal's storage room, take every piece of technology from the latest iPhone to the smallest Fitbit, and return them to their owners. Expect your phones by Monday or me to be in detention, that is my promise to you all this night!”

I stepped down from the podium and the room lit up with the closest thing to a roar they could manage an hour past curfew. Vivian and Gwen followed behind me and I whispered something urgent to them before the crowd swept me away.

“Tell me right away if someone takes your phones,” I told them quickly. And seeing the confused look on their faces I explained further, “Some people won’t be able to wait until Monday for contact with the outside world. Don’t let your phone’s out of your sight until Monday, tell me if you can’t find them.”

They nodded and I tried to dash out of the room. But still, I was accosted by people all the way to the door. Naturally, even though the meeting was over people were still milling around the room. We always staggered our exit time so there weren't hundreds of girls going back to their dorms in the middle of the night. I mean the shadows would be full of girls hiding in them. As always I was in the first group but even though the meeting ended at 10:00 I left the Gallery at 11.

I used the walk to the After Party to compose myself, think back about what I had said.

“Maybe I laid it on a little too thick with the brave stuff,” I said to myself, staring up at the moon.

Since I had announced the plan publicly there would be way more opposition. Even though the team leads and student government had known about it for weeks, I could tell that it would be a rough After Party. Still I walked all the way to Cypress Dorm, knowing that there would be hell to pay in the morning if I wasn’t there.

The Cypress Dorm was exactly like all of the other dorms scattered around campus. Three stores of red brick and small windows. With only the occasional dying planter box to break up the monotony. I climbed the stairs two at a time to the third floor, where I stopped at room 372. Redundantly knocking as well.

Hearing nothing inside the room I knocked again and hearing nothing I knocked a third time. An exasperated “come in'' echoed from inside the room. Stifling my smirk I walked inside and found the usual cluster of people in the usual configuration. Room 372 was used for storage so old furniture was stacked haphazardly across the space with only the cobweb scaffolding to keep them upright. Making it seem cramped and dim, even though the lights were on. In a rough cluster of chairs near the door were most of the people I could count on. Team leads and special representatives chatting while desecretelty sipping on the best champagne we could find in school. They quieted down a bit when I entered the room, but didn’t stop their chatter entirely. I couldn’t tell if it was because they weren’t surprised that I was here, or if they were just tipsy.

But the main group near the door weren’t the only people at the After Party. The regulars, the student council, and ones who always gave me trouble were standing a bit farther away. There were other chairs of course. In fact they were standing around some of the best chairs in the room. Real antiques, plush and velvety, but they were just standing around. Instantly silent upon my entrance I could feel that it would be a rough meeting. Breaking the tension early I gravitated toward the person who I knew would have the most to say.

“Harris!” I greeted our student body president with a small hug acting like we were friends, even though everyone knew that we weren’t, “I heard about you getting Mrs. Gogomine to let off on the group punishments, good work you really are made for diplomacy, huh?”

Elenore Harris had been student body president since I was a freshman. Always trying to make reforms on her own. Slightly longer lunch breaks as rewards, and landscaping for only the worst offenders. Everyone had seen her as a radical reformer who would change the school for the better. At least that was until I came along. Now she had been relegated to the wayside a bit, and her only job seemed to be raining me in. Or at least try to anyway.

Harris pushed me off of her, “Don’t play with me Valencia! You're about to step on the hornet's nest and you’re still trying to play games!”

I smiled grimly when she used my first name. As student body president it was only natural that everyone treated her with respect. And even though we didn’t have the best relationship I still called her by her last name and usually, she did the same to me. But when we were really going at it, when she was really mad at me, she would switch to my first name. The subtext heavy in her tone. You’re not a leader, I am. You weren’t elected, I was. You can’t accomplish anything, I can. She was so infuriating sometimes.

“It’s high time we stepped on the hornet's nest,” I said, not exactly raising my voice but adjusting the gravitas to make sure that everyone in the room knew that this was addressed to them too, “They’ve been stinging us for years. And you just want to leave them be? Looks like you may be more of a hornet than I thought.”

It was an old jest, but something that she needed to be reminded of. The reason that I didn’t run for student government when I first got into the school was because I didn’t want to be part of the establishment. When I first started raiding the kitchen and petitioning students to help me that was the answer that I got.

“Just run for an office,” they said, “Make changes when you get elected.”

It always infuriated me when I heard that. I was young and I was even more angry than I was when I was talking to Harris at the After Party. The student government was just a place for us to pretend like we were making a difference. A little play place in the real world where we could make believe that they cared about our opinions. I don’t think that I could ever be part of something like that. And then more than ever that sentiment was growing. Everyone was looking at Harris like she was a tool of the establishment, and I could tell that it was starting to grate on her.

“Hornet's nest or not,” Harris said, I could tell she was regretting using that metaphor, “Doing what you're doing, taking back everyone’s technology, that will ruin this entire….”

Harris paused for a moment while gesturing around the room at the team leads and important people in the rebellion, “What do you call this a rebellion? When we get caught red-handed in the principal's storage room this little rebellion is over. And all of us are getting in-school suspension plus yard work for the rest of our time here!”

I sighed and backed up. Taking a seat on a bursting apart couch near the entrance where everyone in the room could see and hear me with perfect clarity. A cracked flute of champagne was already sitting on the end table, waiting to be drunk. Lifting it to my lips I took a sweet sip, not breaking eye contact with Harris along the way. With a sigh, I placed my arm around the girl next to me and smiled, smiled as if the entire room was mine.

“If you bothered to read any of the memos and plans I sent to your room you would already know that there is no chance of us getting caught. But I suppose you’re too busy upholding the status quo to care about any of my changes.”

What I really wanted to say was “get out if you don’t like what I was doing”, but couldn’t. As inept at politics as I was, I knew that Harris’s support was a thing that I needed. Even if she gave it reluctantly. And besides, even if she was just a mouthpiece of the principle half the people at the After Party still looked up to her. I needed all the help I could get if the techno-raid was to go off without a hitch.

Harris sighed as though I was a screaming toddler in the aisle at Walmart, “You know that I want change but this isn’t the way to get it. It’s too much of a risk.”

She had softened her tone and as much as I wanted to bring her in and tell her what I really felt. That I didn’t really want to do this, but that the students needed change. That if I didn’t do something soon everything that I had worked for would crumple. But I knew, I knew, that whatever she was saying was just a ploy to get me to admit that I was wrong. Instead I took another sip of champagne and didn’t relent.

“Please Harris,” I told her using a tone that said I thought that she was as stupid as she thought I was, “Read the plan and then make comments. You sound a bit ignorant otherwise.”

Plays on her intelligence normally worked and before I knew it Harris was sitting down on the one the chairs she had abandoned and reading the plans that I had meticulously typed up on my stolen typewriter. The thing was pretty dense so I knew that it would take her some time to even skim it over. With Harris busy I turned my attention back to the team leads.

“So GiGi, how goes the kitchen?” I asked her, even though I knew full well how it was going. It was going great. The previous girl I had entrusted the kitchen team to was too cautious. We barely had enough snacks for even the meeting every week, let alone for cookies between classes. But GiGi was clever and brave, she knew the kitchen inside and out, and she had been getting the job done swimmingly. Even though I didn’t need her to tell me, I had gotten her official report just the previous day, it's good to start with positive news.

GiGi knew this too because she smirked at me, “Valencia, darling, it’s amazing. Come next week and we’ll be able to cook our own food when the chef ladies aren’t there.”

That statement earned her fistpumps from everyone around her. Not having to eat cafeteria food would be amazing, even though it wasn’t that bad it was soulless. Making our food would be a big morale boost as well. Having heard everything from GiGi I turned my eyes toward the person who I had draped my arm around when I first sat down. I knew her name was Rosane, but other than that nothing. In fact I didn’t even know why she was even at the After Party, or how she knew about it. As far as I knew she wasn’t even a team lead.

I offered my other hand for her to shake and looked down at her from my position on the couch, “I’m Valencia Ruiz I don’t think we’ve met.”

Ignoring the absolute absurdity that I would have my arm around her we have never officially met and that fact that she most definitely already knew my name Rosane shook my hand and introduced herself.

“Rosane Bearson, I’m a freshman in group C,” she said which raised a few eyebrows from me. Being a freshman she was likely the youngest person in the room. I wondered who trusted her enough with a team that she would need to attend the After Party.

“Oh I’m not an actual team lead,” she told me, quick to figure out what I had been thinking, “But since Ana B. is sick she said I need to lead the classroom team until she gets better.”

I nodded as the situation became clear to me. When she first got sick I hadn’t sent Ana B. a get well soon card, I sent her a congratulations card. It wasn’t everyday someone got strep throat and the flu at the same time after all.

“Ana must trust you a lot if she wanted you to lead her team,” I told her, masking the fact that I was a little pissed that Ana hadn’t told me that she had assigned a random freshman girl to lead one of the most important teams in the rebellion, “You must be a very capable girl.”

She looked down and blushed and it was only then that I realized how flirty I must sound. Still, I hid any discomfort by asking her my standard question.

“And how are the classrooms, Rosane?” I asked her.

She switched over to a more business-like tone as well. Which only made me giggle internally, “Well everything seems to be going well for now. Distribution of sick passes is down by about 20% but we’ve only been distributing them for a few months now so I think the hype has gone down and we’re reaching a baseline.”

Her report pleasantly surprised me. Even though she was only a freshman Rosane seemed fairly competent. I took a mental note to add her to a leadership position when one opened up. She would be an asset if I kept her around. Unfortunately I didn’t get to tell her how smart she seemed because Harris finally finished reading the action plan.

Harris sighed in a way and got up. Every eye seemed to be on her when she approached my little corner of the room. Sensing her intentions Rosane got up from the coach and a few seconds later Harris replaced her. A pang of sadness went through my chest as she walked away, but I knew that it was for the best. The time to sip champagne and pat ourselves on the back was over. The time to plan our next move and debate was best had begun in earnest.

I took a sip of champagne as Harris began to speak, “I’ll have to admit Valencia this plan could go off without a hitch.”

Though I knew that that was hardly the end to her statement I smiled nonetheless. If the plan warranted a complement from even Harris then I knew it was as close to flawless as I could muster.

“But the steps to make this happen are unreasonable,” and leave it to Harris to find a flaw anyway, “Poisoning an entire school is not how we should operate.”

She said “we” as if she had contributed anything except complaints and legitimacy for the rebellion.

“We’re not actually poisoning anyone,” I told her for what I assume wouldn’t be the last time, “Just making it look like we are.”

“But what you’re going to do to the student council room….”

We went on and on like this for the better part of half an hour. And I seriously started to wonder why she had even the whole thing if she was going to ask me to basically repeat every paragraph. She wanted to be assured that there wasn’t going to be too much damage, all of the fires would be in controlled areas and we would monitor them for the entire day. That we wouldn’t actually hurt everyone, terrible smells alone couldn’t harm anyone and those who experience phantom symptoms would go to the infirmary and be treated. That they wouldn’t notice all the electronics were gone, they would be replaced with fakes as soon as we left. Since I had been expecting this I had answers for everything. Eventually even Harris had nothing more to question.

“Alright let’s put this to one late vote,” Harris said and I couldn’t tell if it was a last ditch effort to stop the techno-raid or if she was just that invested in democracy.

Fifteen hand up, a total landslide. Harris reluctantly raised her hand, and it was unanimous. The After Party started to clear out after that but quite a few people stayed behind to finish the rest of the champagne. No one ever came into the storage room except other students so it would be fine. I was one of the first to leave. Saturday would come sooner than I would have liked so I needed to get my sleep in while I could. And besides, I was already a little tipsy from my flute of champagne.

I walked out of the storage room and then out of the building altogether. Taking the back paths I made my way towards nowhere in particular. As I walked under the moonlight I saw Rosane walking in the bushes, practically invisible from the windows. A great idea came to me when I saw her but I was really curious about something else. Everyone knew the importance of sleath while wandering after curfew but walked in the bushes alongside little-used paths, that seemed like overkill.

“Is there a particular reason you're communing with nature at this hour, Rosane?” I asked her hoping that my tone underscored curiosity and not accusations.

Rosane seemed surprised when she realized that I was behind her but she answered right away, “The principal's own apartment is above my dorm building so I always have to be really careful when sneaking back in.”

I nodded, “Speaking of dorms, can I sleep at yours tonight?”

This time Rosane didn’t just seem surprised she genuinely jumped when I asked.

“Oh, I’m not... I mean not that you’re... “ she stuttered out and I immediately realized my mistake. The alcohol must have been messing with me because I usually didn’t ask like that. Still I tried to play it cool.

“I mean I need a place to crash for the night,” I laughed, “My place is always too crowded in the morning. Nothing more nothing less than a place on your floor until 5:00 tomorrow.”

Rosane realized her mistake though I couldn’t blame her for making it. In the dark I saw her shrug, “Sure I don’t mind. And my roommate always goes to the Gallery meetings so I don’t think she will either.”

No matter how much alcohol I had drunk I always needed to make sure that I had consent and not just begrudging acceptance, “Are you really alright with this? I know it’s a lot to ask. Believe me, I won’t be mad at you if you say no.”

“Yeah it’s fine but follow me and be as quiet as possible.” she said disappearing even farther into the foliage.

I followed her through dirt paths that I didn’t even know existed and through grass that wasn’t even stomped down in the slightest. And after ten minutes I was sitting on the floor in a dark room, the noises of Rosane changing in her pajamas echoing through the darkness. Even though the lights were off I imagined that it was a typical freshman dorm. Sparsely decorated and family photos on the nightstand. As if seeing icons of their parents every day would make them come back. Come back with tears in the eyes regretting the day they ever banished their daughter to a prep school in the middle of new england nowhere. Come back, back with the proclamation that they finally loved their daughter. But by the time they turned into sophomore the family pictures were gone and the room had a bit more personality. Everyone always started decorating once they realized that their parents weren’t coming back for them.

Once I heard the telltale sounds of Rosane finally falling asleep I started to undress. Since she was already sleeping I didn’t want to risk changing noisily, but I still tried to make myself comfortable. I took off the school uniform maroon pants along with the matching jacket. The stupid asoct that they made us where I used to wrap up my pants and jacket into an impromptu pillow. And the last thing I took off, much to my relief, was my bra. And with that, I finally laid down on the carpeted floor curled up under the blanket that Rosane had given me. Sleep came easy for me, I knew that I would need the rest to do everything again the next day.

Saturday came earlier than I had expected. By the time dawn broke, I was standing in my room trying to come up with an outfit that would be both good for getting around fast and look impressive. After a bit of deliberation, I decided on an oversized polo completely unbuttoned, revealing a bit of collar bone that would definitely get me dress coded. My usual skinny jeans would suffice, but I couldn’t go anywhere without my slightly heeled suede boots. Because after all what was more important stealth or clicking around in my boots? The answer was obvious to me as I tiptoed out of my apartment, grabbing my backpack along the way, careful not to wake my roommate. I didn’t know what she would do if I woke her up early again.

Dew and grass stuck to my boots as I cut through the lawn to get to the path. A teacher that I didn’t know walked past me and gave me the hairy eyeball but I kept my gaze facing forward. No class didn’t mean no punishments, so I tried to act innocent. Which was the truth, technically I hadn’t done anything wrong yet. But still, you never knew who would stop you just to send you back to your dorm to change. I made it to the Hemlock Dorm without encountering any more teachers. That was the benefit of traveling at the crack of dawn I guess. Room 003 was in the basement, one of the least desirable rooms out there, and only used as a punishment for the most outspoken “troublemakers”. The dorms weren’t cleaned, they were barely heated, and they had no windows. Terrible for living in, but perfect hiding places.

Click, click, knock-knock, click-click, slam. The “secret” knock for the mobile kitchen was quite elaborate and a bit redundant but so was the girl who lived in it. Throwing the door open like a treasure chest Citrine laughed when she saw me and I couldn’t help but laugh back. With temporary tattoos covering every visible inch of her dark skin and a shock of pastel green hair Citrine was one of the only people at school that I really called a friend. She pulled me inside and shut the door, dramatically engaging the four locks that she had on the door before pushing me to the floor and shoving a bowl of oatmeal into my hands.

“Dude!” Citrine said with her usual brand of excitement for everything while flopping down at the floor next to me, “I can’t wait to get my phone back! Half the time Mrs. Grimes isn’t even in ISS . I'll be able to use my phone to kill time. I have so many otome games downloaded on that thing.”

While she was talking I took a bite of my oatmeal, brown sugar-cinnamon, my favorite kind. I was always grateful when she made a bowl for me when I visited.

“You won’t be able to use your phone in class,” I pointed out to her with my sticky spoon, “It’s almost guaranteed that you’ll get caught that way.”

Citrine rolled on the floor dramatically and I laughed a bit, “Of course I know that Valenc. But can’t a girl dream of bigger things than this...”

Getting up from the floor Citrine struck a longing pose, “Bigger than being relegated to guard a fridge day and night. Bigger than living in a basement with no contact with the outside world. Dream that one day, ONE DAY, I will be free! Free to not waste away my youth with books in dim light. But waste away my youth in front of a screen as nature intended!”

Once her monologue was over I clapped lightly. Too bad the school was so straight-laced and didn’t allow clubs, Citrine was a born theater kid. By fridge, she meant the industrial refrigerator I kept in her dorm. The school had been throwing it away but deception and proper planning had put it into our hands. Some of the mechanics class girls had fixed it up and affectionately named their neon painted beauty the Midnight Snacker. But speaking of refrigerators...

“Anyway how are the eggs,” I asked her, finishing up my last bite of oatmeal.

Citrine adopted a grin that told me that she was either about to stab me or jump out a window. Luckily she did neither and instead opened up the refrigerator. Almost instantly I coughed, the smell was overwhelming. In between coughs I asked...

“I thought you kept them in a bag?”

Citrine brought out a black shopping bag tied with the best knot that we could muster, “I did, but the smell is escaping. No matter how much we try to hide it, nothing will keep these eggs from contaminating everything they are around them, it is their destiny!”

I rolled my eyes, “Just give me the eggs, Citrine.”

She did give me the eggs. She threw them at me and after a fumble they were safe. And up close they were even more eye-watering and nausea inducing. Dry heaving I suddenly regretted eating that oatmeal. I had come prepared for this from my backpack I pulled out a trash bag and wrapped the eggs in that. Then I pulled out an even smaller backpack and put the entire black mass in that. Citrine and I talked a bit. About school and homework. About if or when we get to go home. About everything we could think of. But the moments of peace ended and I had to leave.

Back outside I took a few deep breaths of cool air to rid my system of the eggs and the basement’s musty funk. Everything would officially start around noon but I still needed to prepare the headquarters of the day. And I couldn’t wait to get the backpack with the eggs off of my chest. On the walk to the other side of campus, there were considerably more people out. Early birds and overachievers mostly heading to the library. I pushed past the small stream of people, ignoring the looks at my two backpacks.

For the techno-raid that day our base of operations would be in the Gonner Building. Brick, four stories, the usual but what was most important was that it would empty all weekend. I went around the back and knocked sharply on a side door. Then realizing my mistake I just walked in. It was easy to forget that most people didn’t wake up at 5:00am like I did. I walked down the hallway until I got to the first classroom. Once inside I started to prepare the room. By the time Bee walked into the room I had pushed the desks to the side of the room and written our plan of action on the whiteboard.

Bee walked in pushing a shopping cart with Rebecca C. inside. Fire-resistant blankets were also in the cart and a box of supplies, but we would use those later. Instead of the cart and its contents I focused on the people so brazenly walking into the room. As if they hadn’t skipped the oh so important After Party.

“Nice of you to come,” I said once Rebecca had jumped out of the cart, “I thought you two would be too busy to help out today.”

Bee didn’t bat an eyelash, simply heading over to the whiteboard to look at what she would have to do. She and I both knew that it wasn’t really her that I was mad at. From her, that sort of thing was expected. Instead, I turned my gaze to Rebecca, the girl that was supposed to be my second in command. Rebecca smoothed out her tucked in t-shirt as I looked at her. I didn’t want to look too mad though, instead, I smiled at her. Rebecca seemed to know what my smile meant though because she looked a bit scared.

“Listen Valencia,” she said, clearly attempting to cover her ass, “I was really busy with homework on Thursday so I couldn’t go to any of the events.”

If I was less of a shady bitch I would have accepted her apology and let her go. If the situation was less important I would have told her off and let her go. Unfortunately for Rebecca, this was the most serious thing our uprising had ever tackled, and she hadn’t spoken to me in two days.

“Even if you were busy on Thursday,” I said, my tone saying that I knew that she was busy, but not with homework, “There was always Friday.”

She tried to stutter someone out but I cut her off, “I counted on you and I told you to be there and you weren’t! This is not acceptable Rebecca.”

With a sigh I announced what I had made reality the day before, “You’re not going to be leading the Fire Team today. Instead, you’re going to be in here managing supplies.”

Rebecca seemed genuinely shocked. She never thought I would go that far, and I hadn’t either. This was for the best, but Rebecca couldn’t see that.

“What!” she was so loud I think that she had forgotten that we were there in secret, “Bee didn’t go either and she’s still on the FireTeam! What justice is that?”

“Bee wasn’t supposed to be leading the most important team in this entire operation,” I told her simply.

I could tell that she was hurt, but I couldn’t take back my words even if I wanted to. With a look of pure betrayal, Rebecca stormed out of the room. Bee looked mildly concerned but I couldn’t care less. The job I switched her to was just a filler role, and I didn’t think that Rebecca would stoop so low as to give us up. For the time being, I didn’t care about what she did.

More people started streaming into the room around 10:30 just as I told them to. Roughly dividing themselves into their three teams for the operation. The Fire Team, the Gas Team, and finally my team, the Retrieval Team. Everyone on the Fire Team seemed a bit confused that Rebecca wasn’t there, but the new lead Courtney D. explained everything to them. Once I was sure that everyone was there, twenty-one people in total and the supplies had been counted and divided up I stood in front of the blackboard. One final review of the plan and then it would be time to go. Since we didn’t have a way to communicate with each other over distances, the plan and the competence of the people implementing it were only preparation we could do. But seeing over at the faces looking at me with such beautiful determination I had no doubts that we would succeed.

“We have worked hard for every opportunity afforded to us,” I told them, feeling as if it was high time for a speech, “Every day we struggle for purchase on the mountain that is this school, just trying to make it to a place where we can rest. For a place where we can just be ourselves. Unfortunately, true freedom is a long ways away, and there are many, many more obstacles in our path.”

I had brought the mood down, then I tried to bring it up, “But this raid will bring us closer than anything we have done before. Finally we will be able to contact the world beyond these walls other than the mail they swear they deliver. Every student in this school will have back what was stolen from them!”

“Most of you were there at the Gallery last Thursday,” I looked pointently at Bee, “And you heard my promise, my vow. That by the time this weekend is up they will be holding their phones in their hands. I have no doubt that I spoke the truth in the Gallery, that you and I will shape the truth in our hands. What I promised to the students is not a lie, and I know all you will make sure of that!”

A single cheer erupted from the room and I smiled. Once I was done with my speech the Gas Team left the room to go out and start the plan. We would have no assurance that they would succeed, but I knew they would anyway. They would have to.

“Alright guys I know I don’t need to say this but dictation really does help me visual things,” I told my team, we were waiting to leave, “When we get to the storage room I’ll pick the lock, I know how to do it without making it too obvious. We get in, grab all of the boxes labeled ‘student tech’, and get out. The principle keeps everything very orderly so it won’t be that hard to find them. Ten minutes inside of the room, no more no less. On the way out cover everything with the blankets and put them in the cart. If we get stopped, let me do the talking.”

Some of the team nodded but most of them just acknowledged me blankly. I knew that I was rambling, that I was talking just to talk, but I couldn’t resist talking more. Telling them more things that they already knew just to fill the tense time between when the Gas Team left and when the Fire Team was supposed to go out. Instead of giving in to the urge and making even more of a fool of myself I started pacing around the room. It was always like this when I led a raid. Even though I hadn’t done it in a while it was still the tensest thing in the world. Millions of possibilities rushed through my head, all the ways it could go sideways. No matter what I had said to reassure Harris the plan I put forth was risky, risky enough to fail.

Before long the Fire Team went out. This was the part that I had paid the most attention to. Their job was to go out and set four very strategic fires away from the sight of our retrieval. The student council room, one of the basement rooms, the board meeting room, and a kitchen. Arson was a crime, and a major one at that, so there was no way they could be caught. Spreading the smell of rotten eggs in the vents had already made everyone think there was a gas leak. Students placed in every major gathering site on campus would fake the symptoms of gas poisoning, and judging by the pounding of footsteps to the infirmary the nocebo effect was taking hold. Even with Rebecca off the mission there was high chance everything would go as planned. It was what happened if things didn’t go according to the plan that I was worried about.

I watched the time on my watch carefully. A minute passed, then two, then three. Not wanting to sit around more than was necessary I started heaping the fire-resistant blankets into the cart. By the time ten minutes rolled around things were much more chaotic outside the classroom and we were all ready to go. The route to the principal's storage room took us directly away from one of the fires. Smoke was pouring out the window of the student council room, but I could see no flames. That was the plan, all of the sites of the fires were easily controllable; it would have been dangerous otherwise.

Quickly and taking as many disused paths as possible we made it to the storage room. Just as I had said picking the lock was a difficult but hasty process and before long we were in. The information I had gathered had told me that the electronics that were taken from students upon enrollment were stored in the room, but it hadn’t told me what else was stored there. “Confiscated goods” didn’t cover the scope of what we saw there. Gifts from back home taken away for bad behavior, sculptures that hadn’t been up to code, even jewelry that had been forcibly taken. All of the things my fellow students treasured sat in the room, discarded like the trash the administration thought we were. Heirloom necklaces and broken glasses alike crunched beneath our shoes as we walked to the back. It was all I could do to not pack everything in the cart and then come back for more. But there was only one thing we were there for.

Neatly stacked boxes labeled by grade level stood against the far wall. The principal knew that there would be hell to pay if a student’s parent asked for their daughter’s phone and didn’t get an answer, not that any parent of these students would care enough. We didn’t turn on any lights as we stacked the boxes under the blankets in the cart and replacing them with our decoy boxes. Thinking that I wouldn’t see them in the dim several of my team members tried to open a box, looking for their own phones and tech, but I gave them a firm look every time I heard cardboard rubbing together. They must have thought that I had a will of steel, not opening any of the boxes before we left the storage room. But the truth was much sadder, it was easier to resist opening one of the sophomore boxes when I knew that there was nothing in there for me. Having given me what they thought was a proper education my “parents” had never bothered to give me anything else. Not even a flip phone to call them with, actually they probably hoped that I wouldn’t contact them at all.

Daylight flooded into our dark adjusted eyes when we left the storage room. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, and light breezes were blowing through. Every fire seemed almost under control and we were well underway to having a normal Saturday again. They were dealing with the distractions faster than I had thought so we walked quickly with the cart. Eyes forward, trying to seem as innocent as possible. In any other situation, our act would have worked, but the distractions had been a double-edged sword. Teachers were too preoccupied to be present on the paths as usual, but any we did encounter were on edge and cautious.

“Why are you girls not in your designated emergency situation spots?” Ms. Troy asked us, just as we were out of sight of the now re-locked storage room.

All eyes darted to me when she asked that, and I was glad that I had practiced my plausible excuses the night before but still…

“Ms. Harison told us to take these to the library just in case anything has sparked up,” I told her, my tone even and believable.

Ms. Harison was an unofficial librarian. Technically she was an English teacher, but all of her classes were spent in the library. She shelved books, she arranged library events, in all but name she was a librarian. Making her the perfect person to have told us to take fire resistant blankets to the library. Ms. Troy let us go after that, her critical gaze turned upon other students who were actually wandering around innocently. We were stopped twice more before we got to the back door, each time I gave a different excuse.

Once we got into the back door our pace increased exponentially. The door was locked behind us and blankets fell off the cart in our dash to the classroom. When we got there suddenly everyone who had been lounging around stood for attention. Perfume hung heavily in the air, no doubt to mask the stench of the eggs. A pile of sooty clothes blocked the cart’s path but by that point, we didn’t need it. Everyone and anyone available in the room jumped up to help us. Bee was busy spreading aloe vera gel on the small burns that had been received, but even she stared at the treasure we had reclaimed. Blankets forgot the boxes were piled on desks in a more organized way than I thought them capable of. Seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen all grouped together. And when all of the boxes had been unloaded everyone stood with their respective grade levels.

Tears in her eyes one junior girl, I knew her name was Hollie, took a box cutter from her pocket. All eyes were on her, happy sobs escaping from her mouth. It broke my heart to do what I had to do, but it was for the best.

Crossing the room from the sophomore section in an instant I grabbed her wrist and twisted a bit, causing her to drop the box cutter, “You’ll get your stuff by Monday.”

Shocked gasps escaped from everyone around the room. I shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up, after the Peanut Test I gave two of the girls their phones for risking agitating their allergies . Clearly, everyone who had helped out in the Techno-Raid thought they would get the same treatment.

“What!” Hollie screamed at me, cognisant of the fact that we had to be quiet but communicating all of her outrage in one word, “This is our raid, this is our reward! I thought you were going to give out the tech?”

Kindness was in my eyes as I listened to her yelling at me. Still, my tone was firm with no room for persuasion, almost teacher-esque in an ironic way, “You’ll get your stuff on Monday just like everyone else.”

Roars of dissent blossomed from around the room. I wanted to glance over at Bee for support, but I didn’t want anyone to turn their rage on her. Instead, I listened to the complaints for anything I could say to placate them.

“We worked so hard for this!” that was a no go, I couldn’t deny that they had all prepared and executed everything perfectly.

“You owe it to us!” technically I could argue that I didn’t owe them anything that they did what they did of their own free will, but they were more likely to tear me to shreds than calm down if I said that.

“There's no harm in giving them to us early!” now this, I could work with.

“I checked on Gwen and Vivian yesterday,” I told them, lowering my voice so they couldn’t hear me unless they calmed down, “In the one day that they had their phones there had been four attempts to steal them. The second they pulled their phones out at the lunch table they were excluded from conversation. You say there’s no harm, but there is. Two people with early tech access aren’t too much but, almost two dozen? You’ll be torn to shreds. Even if it’s only for a day I assure you your dorms will be broken into, and I guarantee that half of your devices will be broken.”

Everyone seemed to realize what they had been demanding, but I wasn’t done, “I didn’t just steal back these devices to give them away. I stole them so that we can feel like we matter again. That we aren’t just rats trapped in the cage that is this school. We’re people, and people deserve freedom. And given that a school prison break is impossible I thought phones were the next best thing. If I let you loose from here with your devices, chaos will ensue. And before I know it the students I try so hard for will become phone hunger animals, degrading themselves for just a taste of the true freedom that they deserve. I wish I could reward you all in the way that you’ve more than earned, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Monday.”

I had ended the way I had begun, but this time everyone seemed to get the message. Hollie picked up her box cutter and started cleaning up with everyone else. Some of the more comedic among us began to sing the Clean Up Song, and before long we were full fledged chorus and the room was back to the way it was. Baring the twelve boxes still elevated on desks. Once we were done I handed out their advanced reward. Gift baskets full of contraband. Sick notes, pocky, candles, and anything else I could find to give them. Everyone accepted their baskets with grace, but I knew what they really wanted. Having given out the baskets I adjusted my backpack on my shoulders and tapped Bee on the shoulder.

“This classroom, 9:15 Sunday night, bring Rebecca,” I whispered, making sure that only she could hear me.

With that, I left the classroom and then the building. Heading to whoever’s dorm was closest. After a day like that, I could sleep for days. And I almost did. Sunday passed in a blur of naps and essays and before long I was walking back to the classroom. As always I was there early, not just because I loved punctuality, but also because I didn’t want anyone in the room without me. And besides I was the only one who had the key. In the time it took everyone to get there I made sure all of the boxes were undisturbed. Besides a little nick in one of the junior boxes from where Hollie tried to open it, everything was Gucci.

When I heard steps coming from the hallway I realized how I must look. Wide-eyed and smiling like an idiot in the products of my own handiwork, not like someone in control at all. In a scramble, but trying to be quiet so they didn’t hear my scrambling I hopped up on the teacher’s platform. The steps were becoming even more prominent, so instead of coming up with any natural looking power pose I hopped up on the desk. Sitting down, legs spread, hoping that I looked large and in charge.

GiGi was the first to arrive, looking as amazed as I felt upon entry.

“Amazing isn’t it?” I said to her, getting only a noise of excitement in response. Immediately she raced toward the senior boxes and I had only a second to stop her, “Not so fast, wait until everyone’s here.”

She didn’t look as disappointed as Hollie had, probably because she knew it wouldn’t be long until the boxes finally got opened up. Luckily we didn’t have to wait for long. Ana B. had recovered from her flu in time to sort and return all of the electronics. Which was a relief for me. Even though they were all handpicked by me, I didn’t know if I could trust most of the other team leads for a task as momentous as the one we were doing. Tall, and with a grown out afro by some lists Ana was considered one of the most gorgeous girls in school or sometimes even the most. But I didn’t see her that way. On a mission she was firm and careful, doing rounds she was kind and patient, and during After Parties everything she said was well thought out and careful. In short there was no one I trusted more, besides Rebecca and Citrine of course. Rebecca, I didn’t know about anymore though.

Completely coincidentally, Rebecca was also the last person to show up. Citrine had already sauntered in when Bee walked in yawning. I had expected them to come together, given the thing they were together, but she was nowhere to be found. 9:30 rolled around, she still wasn’t there. Thinking that she was ghosting me for kicking her off of the Fire Team I started without her. Instead of stooping down to the level of everyone else, I climbed onto the desk to be even higher. Apparently, my heeled boots weren’t enough height for me. Succinctly as I could I started to explain how things would work. Pick out each phone and look in the copy of the student directory, write the information down on a sticky note and organize everything by dorm. Once things were sorted we head out and deliver the goods, packed neatly into individually labeled paper bags.

By the time I was done speaking Rebecca was sulking around near the sophomore boxes. Uncharastically I didn’t remark on her late entry, and instead trusted that she had picked up everything she needed to know. With a sad sigh, I hopped down from the desk, landing on the solid floor and not the platform. Not wobbling a bit in my heels.

I took some inspiration from Hollie and wretched open the boxes one by one with a box cutter. A pile of black screens and pastel cases, it was beautiful to us. We could have started for hours, just bathing in the glory of what had been so deprived of ourselves for our lives as students. But we had a job to do and only one night to do it. Everyone was responsible for two boxes.

Grab a bundle of tech, look in the directory, write the information down on a sticky note, stick the note on the bundle, and put it in the bundle in the dorm’s appropriate pile. Six of us working in tandem, it didn’t take that long. We started around 9:35 and everything was in its proper place around 10:30. After that it was wrapping. I wanted everyone to be anonymous, to have no one know who had delivered their cell phone. But the wrapping portion of it all but signed our names on the cell phones. Citrine wrapped everything in a bright yellow bow, and a lipstick kiss. While GiGi stuck scratch and sniff stickers everywhere. I swear if you didn’t know the importance of what we were doing, you would have thought we were doing an arts and crafts project.

Once names were written on all of our bundles we headed out. Under cover of darkness we set out to deliver our packages. Three dorms to each of us, scatter after we finished what we needed to do. I was on my own for the rest of the night, and I breathed a bit easier because of it. With the night breezes pushing my loose coat around me, I hoped that it looked like a cape. After all, I had never felt more like a superhero then in those moments.

Starting from the top and working my way down to the basements it took me half an hour to deliver to the dorm. On the way dodging any midnight snackers or people who simply couldn’t sleep. By the time I was done with all of the dorms it was after midnight and I was already hearing excited noises rising up in the night. Thinking that everyone would be too busy to bother me I decided to sleep in my own bed that night. My roommate was already asleep in her bed next to the door, while my bed under the window had collected dust. For the first time all month, I slid into my pajamas. Content in the knowledge that even though what I had done was risky, my students, my people, my friends were happier for it.

If you all loved Valencia as much as I did leave a comment. and if you didn’t have a stunning day!

3 notes · View notes

petersmparker · 5 years

Note

Congrats on 100 followers❤️ Would it be okay to do a Peter x Reader with these: G – “God, you really are a terrible liar.” L – “Let’s just pretend that this didn’t happen.” W – “Would you believe me if I said that I have feelings for you?”

Thanks Ciara!!! At first I wasn’t sure how to do all three but now it’s 1500 words 😂

Thank you for requesting (and for your patience)!! I hope you like it!

You and Peter have always been pretty touchy compared to most friends. To some that probably seems a bit weird, but to you it’s what comes naturally. You’ve always been compelled to show physical affection to others limitlessly, but there are few who you believe will respond comfortably to it. MJ is content to allow you to hold her hand, Betty thinks a hello kiss on the cheek is cute, Ned will respond to a hug with great enthusiasm. It’s nice to be able to show your friends that you love them in such simple, easy ways.

Peter is the easiest of all to dole your affection out to. You learned early in your friendship that he’s responsive. He adapts easily to what’s around him. Any attempt at affection you ever gave to him was met with a willingness to add it to the itinerary. He’s just that kind of person- good at interacting with people in a way that suits them.

That was something you always appreciated that about him, even before you were close friends. A trait you loved before you began to realize that maybe you had started to view Peter as someone a bit more special than a friend.

To your great misfortune, that only made it hurt more when you noticed that Peter had been drifting away from you recently. He begins to let go of your hand quicker when you hold it. Starts to sit on the other end of the couch when he comes over to watch movies. Transitions into giving you awkward nods before you can even try to give him a hug to say hello. Stops asking you for adjust his collar for him when you tell him it’s messed up.

It feels like Peter’s gotten sick of you after several years of nothing but positive responses, and it hurts. You let him pull away, though. What other choice is there? You hate the idea of forcing your physical affection onto him when he no longer wants it, and you’d been worrying for a while now that with your steadily growing feelings that you were taking advantage of him, somehow by maintaining the old behaviors. Maybe this was just the world giving you an out before the concern could overwhelm you.

Peter receives the space that he clearly wants. You’re sad for a while, but know that it’s best if you learn to adjust to the new dynamic. It’s hard to have to remind yourself not to reach for his hand when you’re walking to the train or fix his hair when he comes out of gym class with it falling into his eyes, but you do it.

This continues for a month before it’s unexpectedly interrupted. It’s a friday night following a downright excessively crime-filled week. Peter had been out much later than usual four nights in a row. Today he ends up at your place just before midnight, exhausted and overwhelmed, and asks to copy your Spanish homework.

“I know how to do it,” he promises, pulling out his worksheets, “I honestly just don’t have the time or the capacity to do it right now.”

You don’t mind, even offer up your history assignment too, and his tired eyes brighten. He looks like a mess. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him so disheveled- dark circles, healing cuts, and messy hair all prominent to you in the lamplight while you watch him work. You’re tempted to reach over push the curls away from his forehead, but abstain.

“Oh, come on,” he groans when he goes to put his work back in his bag, “I forgot about physics.”

You aren’t in the same class and therefore can’t help him, but Peter sticks around until he’s finished the assignment anyway. He finishes about an hour and a half after he’d arrived, seeming even more exhausted than when he arrived. The three page physics assignment had truly done him in. He looks like he’s barely awake by the time his bag is packed. You’re quick to let him know that he’s free to stay the night, since tomorrow is a Saturday, but he waves away your offer.

“I’ll probably be fine,” he reasons, shouldering his bag as he enters the hall of your apartment building.

You aren’t prepared for him to lean in to kiss your cheek when he does, and by the look on his face when he pulls back, apparently neither was he. Like he’d done it without thinking in his sleep-deprived state. It’s something you used to do to him on occasion. One of the only things he hadn’t attempted to do back.

“Uh. Sorry,” he blurts, eyes wide, “I just-”

“It’s fine,” you quickly say, heat rising to your cheeks terrifyingly fast.

“Yeah. Let’s just pretend that this didn’t happen.” He suggests, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you on monday.”

His words bring a bitter taste to your mouth, but you let him go. Pretend it didn’t happen? What the hell? After a month of him pushing you away he kisses you and wants to move on like it didn’t happen? It’s hard not to be a bit frustrated at all the conflicting messages he’s sending. Sure, he was tired, but it’s not like kissing you had been a habit for him. Not like it had been one for you. There’s no way that could have been just muscle memory.

You’re bothered and confused all weekend, Peter too occupied with his Spider-Man duties to see you. Monday comes with a newfound resolve to ask what exactly happened both friday and in the last month, and that’s exactly what you do when you meet him at the train station in the morning.

He’s looking a bit more well-rested, a bit cheerier, and when he turns to say hello you feel kind of bad about planning to throw a wrench in it all.

“Are we going to talk about friday?” You ask, giving him the opportunity to own up and diffuse at least some of your anger right off that bat by admitting that the kiss happened.

He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, looking apologetic. “Yeah,” he says.

Peter is an intelligent boy.

“I’m sorry,” he continues after a beat, “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t have,” you agree, folding your arms, “Not after all this time I’ve been trying to teach myself how to be less affectionate with you. It’s not fair to me, Peter. And what is even up with that? Why did you suddenly decide to change?”

Maybe it’s not fair to put him on the spot, but you’ve been wondering nonstop for a month and you’re at the end of your rope. He looks ashamed when you’ve finished speaking, head dipped down to stare at his shoes. The sight of it brings you a bit of guilt, but you maintain your stance, trying hard not to crumble. You’d like an explanation.

“Would you believe me if I said I had feelings for you?”

The bitterness returns to your tongue as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. Part of you wants to turn around and go home, rather than get on a train with Peter and spend the next thirty minutes pretending he didn’t use such an untrue excuse. Why would he want to pull away from you the way he did if that were true?

“God, you really are a terrible liar,” you state, shaking your head in disbelief, “If you got sick of me, just say so. It really sucks, but I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

Peter steps forward, eyebrows knitted together. “Y/N, what?” He sputters, “I’m not messing around!”

You’re unconvinced and hurt by his decision to persist. Against your wishes, your eyes start to burn and water. You wipe furiously at them when you say, “Cut it out, Peter-”

He surges forward, snatching your hand away from your face, and kisses you. Your eyes are blown wide in your surprise, frozen still where you stand. Peter’s hand is warm against your skin as he continues to hold it out of the way, and his lips are even warmer. Your face heats faster than metal in a fire. He pulls away after another month has passed by you, face resolute.

“Oh,” you yelp, and immediately feel your face get even hotter. How lame.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, fingers loosening their hold on your hand, “If not, I’m sorry for that, too.”

You shake your head, a little too urgent. “No! No, that’s- that’s great. I’m happy.”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughs, upper body sagging in relief, “It occurred to me halfway through that you might have to slap me.”

It’s very difficult not to laugh at his response. He brings a hand to his face like he’s embarrassed when he adds, “I was just worried that if I kept being touchy while I had this big crush on you it would be creepy. It didn’t occur to me that you might like me back.“

You giggle along with him, bitterness melted out of you. All this time, he’d had the same concern. He’d just acted on it first. How ridiculous.

From behind, your train screeches to a stop as it reaches the platform. Peter dips forward once more to peck you on the cheek. "Ready to go?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling lighter than you have in a while, and take his hand. “Let’s go.”

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nishi-key · 5 years

Text

evergreen (G; for the middle blocker kindaichi yuutarou)

my piece for the middle blocker zine, which i only bothered to post now because i completely forgot that my blog is my portfolio. i received my copy of the book recently. thanks to everyone who made it possible! it’s absolutely gorgeous!!

rest of the fic under the cut. it’s...a bit of a read.

The plant is a young purple shamrock, for now nothing but clumps of tiny triangular leaves sprouting out from the soil in an overly-large pot.

It’s a present to Yuutarou for his thirteenth birthday, and though it’s not exactly on his wish list, he takes and looks at it as though it’s the vast, fragile universe—and it is, in its own special way, he figures. It’s a life smaller than he’ll ever be. He now holds its existence like he holds his food or homework or volleyball, and for a boy without much of a concept of what life is beyond these things, it feels incredible.

His mother names the flower with a bright grin on her face. “I got it for you because it’s one of the easiest plants to keep at home,” she tells him, “but the woman who sold it to me said it’s magical.”

Yuutarou raises an eyebrow.

“No, it’s true! It’s a magical shamrock that’ll watch over you, and everything you do. Take care of it well enough and it might just have something to say about your luck and successes.” She winks.

He knows better than to believe her; he’s not a baby, and he’s not about to get manipulated into poring over a bunch of leaves under the impression that it’ll give him a better life. He does thank her for the thoughtful present, though, listens to her drone on about how to keep it alive and promises to try his best with it as he takes it to his room and places it on his desk. Not a bad spot, he thinks, and makes a mental note to water it for the first time. Maybe later.

The plant is doing fairly well, from the looks of it.

It’s like owning a pet, having a plant under his wing, only not as cute and cuddly. It’s more of a new, relatively simple chore he carries out without the need to get nagged. It’s nothing special, nothing remotely interesting, so when his friends find out on the first day they come over, it’s anything but momentous.

"Wait, your mom said it was magic?" Kunimi asks once he finishes relaying the story, now months old.

"Yeah. I guess she was just trying to find a way to get me to give it lots of attention. Dunno why she bothered; it’s not really that needy." Yuutarou shrugs.

Kageyama stares at it with more wonder in his eyes than Yuutarou had when he’d received it. "You should take care of it, magical or not," he says, gingerly touching the tips of the flourishing dark purple leaves. "It’s pretty big, having to keep something alive like this."

"I know. I will," Yuutarou assures him, and relishes in his small smile and nod—not a sliver of doubt in the back of his mind, though there should be, about how well both he and Kageyama’ll be able to keep the important things alive as the years go by.

The plant is generally satisfied, and gradually gains more color, the pinkish white of flowers beautiful amidst the purple.

He doesn’t become a popular guy by any means. He’s easily the tallest kid in the volleyball club but his attacks don’t make the crowd go wild, and they never defeat Shiratorizawa. He’s pretty good at English and Science but his Math teacher always tells him he should do better. He’s welcoming and conversational but his circle of friends is small, his confidence and complete trust concentrated only on two in the bunch.

He wishes for more, as anyone would, and sometimes he finds himself looking at his plant (which beams along with him at every compliment Mom gives), thinking of the magic, but he instantly feels ridiculous, knows that wishes are for people who don’t know how to take action.

So he tries to stay content instead, and like this—with his friends’ bravery and Mom’s cooking and Dad’s advice—the years fly on by.

The plant was fine yesterday. It was.

In their third year, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, Kageyama gets mad at him.

"What the hell? That sucked," he says, eyebrows already knitted, after Yuutarou spikes one of his tosses and lands it out of bounds. "Did you slack off over break or something?"

"Huh?" Yuutarou blinks at him. It’s three thirty and barely anyone on the court has jumped, let alone found a reason to get frustrated. "No? I—we both just miscalculate sometimes, or do something wrong without meaning to. It happens.”

"Try again,” Kageyama instructs, or maybe orders, but Yuutarou doesn’t want to think of it like that. “And make it score this time.”

"I will, I swear."

The image of the calm, collected Kageyama’s deepest scowl to date unwarrantedly plasters itself onto the forefront of Yuutarou’s memory, stays there all the way home. Maybe it was a bad day, he thinks, tells himself that everyone has the right to lose their cool when things don’t go their way—and right at that moment loses his own when he sees his plant sagging.

It isn’t even that bad; the flower stems are only a little bent and the leaves a little wrinkled, but his breath hitches and he drops everything and sprints downstairs so urgently that Mom has to sprint back up with him to make sure he doesn’t trip on his own feet and die trying to bring a plant back to life.

"It’s not the end of the world, Yuu," she tells him, caressing his back as he attempts to rejuvenate his charge. “These types of plants can look under the weather when the temperature isn’t quite right. It happens."

He drinks her words in the way he wishes the plant drinks the water, feels himself cooling down in its place. A little too cool perhaps, when he stares at the moist leaves and sees a poorly-spiked ball and glaring blue eyes and realizes that it isn’t hot at all, but he shuts his eyes, listens to the soft echoes in his mind:

“It happens.”

The plant is healthy again. It just needed a little water.

A 500-yen coin greets him on the floor of the hallway the next day and he picks it up, turns it in his fingers, stares at it for long enough that a still-sleepy Kunimi somehow finds time to join him.

“Find that on the floor?” he asks. “Keep it. Looking around for the owner and the Lost and Found are too much work.”

“Is that really okay?”

“Think of it as a reward for all the effort you’ve been putting into Math lately.”

Yuutarou, unable to argue with the logic and his desire for a reward, pockets the money.

Right before lunch, they’re handed back their tests, Yuutarou’s sporting a high 95 circled in red right beside his name. He grins from ear to ear when he sees it, offers the paper to those who ask to see, and practically brandishes the thing in Kunimi’s face when they meet up to eat.

Kunimi smiles in earnest, says, "Looks like today’s a good day for you," and it’s the best thing Yuutarou has ever seen.

At practice, he runs faster and jumps higher than ever before. His teammates clap him on the back, tell him he’s doing good today, and he makes conversation about Nationals because it feels right. His grin is almost permanent on his face, until a serve hits Kageyama’s and all hell breaks loose, the livid setter grabbing a trembling wing spiker, several inches taller, by the shirt.

"You have the nerve to talk about Nationals," Kageyama demands, above the litany of apologies, "with a serve like that?"

"Kageyama, calm down!" Yuutarou cries as others yank Kageyama’s hands away. "It was an accident, okay? He said he’s sorry."

"That’s not the point!"

"We’re going to get better," Yuutarou continues. "That’s why we’re here at practice. To improve. Better to make all the mistakes here and correct them so we don’t repeat them when it matters."

It comes out of nowhere, but it works. Kageyama pauses, his balled fists relax, and he averts his gaze, clicks his tongue and mutters an apology before turning away. Yuutarou supposes it’s good enough, but his stomach twists in not-so-subtle knots when their captain sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him he did well, and the rest of practice feels like floating on air.

When he gets home that evening, his shamrock is thriving. He isn’t sure why that scares him, ever so slightly.

The plant is fluctuating from bright and beautiful to complete garbage.

"You don’t think it’s actually magical, do you?"

They eye the plant on the desk, still and harmless, like it’s a monster on top of Yuutarou’s desk.

"What makes you think it could be?" Kunimi asks.

"Whenever something good happens to me, I get home home and see it perfectly fine. But whenever something bad happens, it looks dry and sad,” Yuutarou explains. “I can’t figure out if it reacts to what happens to me or if my day is determined by how it’s feeling."

"That’s dumb," Kageyama says immediately, like Yuutarou hadn’t just finished honestly speaking his mind. "There’s no way a plant can be magic. You probably just pay more attention to it on your good days and end up neglecting it on your bad ones so it reacts to how you treat it. Simple enough."

Yuutarou frowns. "These types of plants don’t need to be watered all the time. They’re really easy to keep alive."

"Then why’s yours dying every other day?"

"It’s not dying!"

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because—" Yuutarou yells until he realizes he is, and he pinches his mouth shut, because arguing is too much work. He exchanges glances with Kunimi instead, thinks maybe they won’t be inviting Kageyama over next time.

He sees the both of them out half an hour later, silently eats his dinner and washes up, and when he once again steps inside his bedroom, his shamrock’s flowers and leaves are falling.

The internet is packed with good reads on effective plant care, he finds, and he stays up after doing his homework to go through them. At practice, he messes up the timing for the block and brings the other team to match point. He hears his teammates sigh.

I’m a terrible blocker, he thinks, and he doesn’t look them in the eye for the rest of the day.

Online sources are limited and inconsistent, he decides, so sometimes he spends his breaks in the library, reading up on plants and how they work, the effects of temperature on their consistency and growth, the effects of anything at all to their resilience. In the hall, two sprinting boys knock him aside in their haste, and he apologizes to their retreating backs.

I’m such a pushover, he thinks, and in class he shrinks in his seat.

Science tells him nothing, so he scours for reliable material on the unexplainable, because that’s what his plant is. It follows no rules, it’s unpredictable, and it’s ruining his life. If he can’t control the magic, he cries in his mind, he can’t control his life.

"Yuu, it’s getting really late. You can do that tomorrow. Go to bed," says the person who brought this magic to him, standing by his doorway minutes before midnight. "If you don’t sleep early, you’re not gonna reach six feet."

Yuutarou has nothing to say to that; he buries his face in his book.

"Yuu. Can you hear me?"

He frowns.

Mom does too. "Okay, well, if you feel like talking tomorrow, I’ll be here. Get some rest, okay?"

She closes the door as quietly as she can, and the click of the lock shatters Yuutarou’s cold facade as well as his heart. I’m an awful son, he thinks, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

At practice, Kageyama’s mood only plunges, and Yuutarou doesn’t know what to do with him either. He sends tosses that are too fast and complains when no one can get them. He talks about getting faster, where’s the improvement, we have to win, we have to win—until the we’s become I’s, what used to be fun and challenging now a mere test of strength against what’s apparently a beast, a monster.

Yuutarou’s patience plunges too. No matter what, he thinks, I’ll never be worse than this guy. And he feels better about himself.

The plant has recovered.

Everything on the court gets worse the louder Kageyama yells, and when tournaments roll around, he’s the only thing Yuutarou’s sure he can block out. He hates that he has to; he still tries to treat Kageyama the same as before, but the minute he hears that sharp voice demanding he move faster jump higher match my pace, he cracks just a little bit more, and he’s well past breaking point.

He has been for a long time; he’s known that since he and Kunimi first spoke privately with their coach.

Their final match of the year, as a team, is no different. He tries and he tries but there’s nothing he can do about the monstrous toss. His jumps are futile, his words don’t go through. The time-outs don’t clear any of their heads. Kageyama never listens, never slows, and Yuutarou’s tired of moving too slow for him.

So he doesn’t move at all.

He stops in his tracks, keeps his eyes on Kageyama’s focused ones and watches them change—wide in anticipation, wider in surprise, even wider in confusion—as the alarmingly-fast ball rises and falls for the last time. Kageyama is benched, and the glare he used to direct at Yuutarou and the rest disappears under the shadow of his fringe, and that’s the last that Yuutarou needs to know about that.

They lose, of course. But the defeated look on Kageyama’s face convinces Yuutarou he’s won something. He feels stronger as he heads home, like he’s conquered a heavy weight on his shoulders, like he’s done something right for the first time in his life. The night sky is dark but it’s as though the clouds are making way for a bright sun overhead, one that tells of a future where nothing will ever make him feel so small again.

He heads up to his room in high spirits, but in the moment he opens his door he also reels back, drops all of his things, and tries to blink himself out of what he hopes is a cruel dream.

The plant is dead.

“It had to be a pest or something,” Mom says. “I can’t imagine how else this could have happened.”

The once-beautiful leaves of his shamrock are curled in on themselves, shrunken and weak, holes drilled into them like they’d been set ablaze. It makes Yuutarou feel sick but he can’t tear his eyes away, only blinks the wetness out of them as his chest grows heavy and his stomach sinks.

"We’ll do a little more research on this, okay? I remember reading that these kinds of plants can resurrect, or something like that. Maybe it still has a chance."

"Please throw it out."

Mom seems to stop breathing. "What?"

Yuutarou sucks in all the air he can find. "Let’s just throw it out."

"Ah—but—" She pauses, then gently rubs his shoulders. They’re higher than hers already. "Okay. Okay. Let’s just get a new one, yeah?"

"No."

"No? You don’t want to replace it?"

"I don’t."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He feels her gaze on him, piercing and studious, but she doesn’t say anything he doesn’t want to hear. She sighs, takes the pot, and moves to head out the door. "I’ll bring this to the yard for you, all right? Dinner’ll be ready soon. Oh! And how was your game?"

The question sets his skin on fire, punctures his heart like it’s a dying purple leaf. "We lost," he mumbles, turning away. "We lost."

The plant has been buried underground for quite some time.

“Okay, Kindaichi, your turn!”

He steps to the front of the line and grabs a ball from the cart, tries to calm himself down even in the face of Oikawa’s toothy grin. It isn’t Yuutarou’s first time hitting his sets but the nerves never leave, and every run-up for a spike is like the moment of truth, make or break, match point.

He knows it shouldn’t be, and it makes a difference, but when he runs and swings and ultimately misses, he still clams up, turns to Oikawa with a barrage of excuses and apologies ready to leave his mouth, and the only thing that stops him is Oikawa’s still-smiling face.

"Your timing’s a little slow, huh?" he says. "Think you can go a little faster than that?"

The word ‘slow’ makes him want to shrink. But he looks at Oikawa’s patient gaze and reminds himself this isn’t middle school anymore. This isn’t Kageyama anymore, and Yuutarou is six feet tall, has a voice he’s used only a few times before, a voice that might as well wilt and die with his shamrock if he doesn’t ever use it again.

"Maybe," he says, but before Oikawa can beam too much, nervously adds, "but right now, can I not?”

Oikawa’s smile vanishes for the first time, and Yuutarou has to conceal his cringe for the better part of a minute before it comes back, wider than ever. "Well. I appreciate your being straightforward," he says, clapping a hand on Yuutarou’s shoulder, and Yuutarou has to work on controlling his gape instead. "I’ll accept that answer for now. Practice with me so I can get your timing right, okay?"

The yes that escapes from Yuutarou’s smiling lips is as loud as it is elated.

The plant is doing wonders for the garden soil it’s buried in.

Somehow he finds himself standing in front of Kageyama again one day, his own team fresh from a loss in their practice match. It’s odd to see him clad in black, but that’s the least of Yuutarou’s problems, now that the King of the Court stands before him wearing a different kind of crown.

He hadn’t come up with that nickname but he’d embraced it all the same, and when he’d heard that Kageyama’s school was coming over, he’d been intrigued rather than enraged. It would make for good entertainment, he figured, getting to watch Kageyama yelling at people he isn’t required to care about, and a good way to know for sure that where he is and where Kageyama is truly are meant to be different.

But that’s not what he sees, and ultimately, he ends up here, yelling at Kageyama and not the other way around, because Kageyama is different—from his faces on the court all the way up to the lightning-quick toss he now manages to score with. It has Yuutarou’s fists trembling as he screams, "Don’t apologize!" in front of a bashful King’s face, and he honestly can’t believe he has to.

What other things come out of his mouth, he doesn’t remember. They might be a little cruel, a little untrue, a little overconfident of him, but it helps him hold his head up high, and look Kageyama straight in the eye as he nods in agreement with everything Yuutarou had gotten off his chest, and says:

“Next time we fight, we’re going to win again.”

The we is a shot right through the heart. The way Kageyama leaves with his new partner is a dagger to his back. But as he looks to the ceiling, despite the feeling of defeat, he can neither help his smile nor understand why. He retreats to his own team with Kunimi, thinks about how Kageyama has changed, and how he isn’t the only one who has.

The plant is a dwarf lemon cypress, a fair height and vibrant green, and it’s been growing in a pot inside one of the second story bedrooms for the better part of a year now.

He finds it after another devastating loss to Shiratorizawa, and the first thing he thinks is it’s so beautiful. His eyes are still a little puffy from the tears but he stares at the bright leaves all shaped like miniature trees, gently runs his fingers through them, feels his heart swell.

“Oh, you found it.”

Mom stands by the doorway, leaning against the frame and smiling at him. Yuutarou shouldn’t be surprised—it’s her room, after all—but his mouth can’t make words and his eyes are wide, only able to stare at her.

“Purple was pretty, but also pretty depressing, so I figured you could use something green this time. The color of life, environment, renewal, and growth,” she says, like that stare had demanded an explanation. “And I thought it might be nice to get something taller, so you can get taller and tower over everyone on the court.”

The smile on her lips and in her eyes is so warm, and Yuutarou sniffles, breathes out a laugh. The first thing he thinks to say is incomprehensible, something he never would have asked three years ago. “So it’s magic too?”

“Hmm. The saleslady didn’t say it was magical this time.” Mom stands beside him and rests a hand between his shoulder blades. “But I’d say that the plants never had the magic from the start. It’s the amount of love and care you give it to keep it alive despite everything that happens in your life, good or bad, that makes it magic. Agree or agree?”

This time, Yuutarou’s laughter finds its voice. “Agree.”

“Do you want to move it to your room and take over now?”

“I’m fine with keeping it here for a while.”

“Okay. But only until you turn twenty; that’s when I’m legally allowed to stop caring about you so much.”

“Aww, make it thirty.”

“Too much! Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-nine! I’ll help you with it anyway.”

Mom’s shoulders shake with her giggling. “Fine,” she says, and Yuutarou leans on the shoulder he used to cry on as a child.

The plant has thrived even more since its discovery, basking in the heat, surviving in the cold.

“Captain Kindaichi sure handled that arrogant first year pretty well earlier, huh?”

Yuutarou snaps to attention and raises an eyebrow at the grinning teammates that surround him. “What?”

“The first year who yelled because our play wasn’t ‘the best we could’ve done’. You pulled him aside during the time-out and talked to him, right? Nice, nice.”

“It wasn’t much,” Yuutarou says, hunching over and pulling ahead of rest of the group leisurely strolling on the lamp-lit sidewalk. “And it’s not entirely new either. Kyoutani-san was like that to the third years back then, and Yahaba-san learned to deal with him, so I should be able to do something like this.”

“Yeah, we know, we’re just complimenting you, dumbass. Where’s our thanks for thinking you’re the best captain we could’ve hoped to have this year?”

“Well, thanks,” Yuutarou deadpans, but he doesn’t walk any faster. “I never asked for compliments, though. A captain’s only as good as his team, anyway; I lead, but we all do our best together. And when I inevitably screw up, you’re all there to pick up the pieces.”

“Or,” Kunimi interjects, sending a slap to his arm, “you could stop being all mature for a second and learn to take a compliment.”

The rabble erupts in a chorus of laughter and haphazardly-thrown punches, and he makes a face at them, glues their grins to his memory, and announces that they’re making a stop at a nearby store for some snacks, captain’s treat. Only for a while though, he emphasizes once the cheering dies down, so he can still get home in time to help Mom with dinner.

The plant has seen bad days and better days, but it grows. And it’ll keep on growing; Yuutarou will make sure of it.

#haikyuu!!#kindaichi yuutarou #middle blocker zine #m'writing #weebing #a really late post #boy this was a hard fight #mostly because i had to perform blood sacrifice to keep it under 5k sdfjksjf #this was pre-sportsfest before i learned how to keep my words at the minimum

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totaltozier · 6 years

Text

Just Another Day: Chapter 2 - Stranger Things/IT Richie&Mike Twins AU

NOTES: Here it is! Chapter 2! I love writing this fic so thank you for all the positive feedback!! This chapter is sort of a filler but I left you all with a nice cliffhanger! Also if you haven’t noticed, this takes place in modern day but still holds the same events from season 1 and 2! Mike Hanlon is in this chapter but they all call him Mikey to differentiate from the two Mikes! Also, the title is from the song Just Another Day by Oingo Boingo!

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

Happy New Year Everyone!

Mike’s hand flew to El’s as soon as the high-pitched alarm started blaring. Their eyes met at the contact, her normally bright eyes washed over grey in fear. He squeezed her hand in reassurance before scanning around at his friends to make sure they were making their way out of the building.

“Guys let’s go!” He shouted. The whole cafeteria was full of confusion and chaos as everyone tried to make their way through the dark to the glowing red exit signs.

They all shuffled their way through the crowd, gripping one another’s shirts and bags to keep each other close. Once outside in the daylight, the group gathered around an oak tree outside by the parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Max demanded once they all caught their breaths.

Lucas grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “An earthquake?”

Ben sat down on the soft grass, crossing his legs. “In Hawkins?” He questioned. “Knowing this town, it was probably something bigger than that.”

They all exchanged looks. It had been almost two years since they last dealt with the Mind Flayer. Things had gone back to normal. Will didn’t have any more episodes. El was finally able to go to school with the rest of them. They were all able to sleep peacefully at night.

“Muh-maybe an experiment wuh-went wrong in the science lab?” Bill suggested, trying to ease everyone’s minds off of the dark past they shared.

“Hopefully.” Dustin replied.

As they waited for the alarm to clear, they all ended up on the grass below the tree trying to find ways to kill the time. Ben and Beverly were reading the new poetry booklet they were assigned for their literature class as they rest against the tree. Mike watched as El paced back and forth in front of him. Max, Dustin, and Lucas figured they might as well get a head start on the homework they were assigned from their earlier classes. Will, Stan, and Bill were sharing an old comic book and discussing their favourite characters. Eddie was sat against the tree with his legs out in front of him with Richie’s head in his lap, playing with his soft curls.

The fire alarm finally stopped beeping, although there was still a ringing sound in everyone’s ears. There were teachers walking around informing the children that they could not go back into the school yet for safety reasons.

“Holy fuck, how long have we been out here for?” Richie asked the group as he stared up at the clouds in the sky.

Stan looked down at his watch. “Well it’s almost one forty-five now so about an hour and a half I guess. Last period starts in like twenty minutes.”

“Why can’t they just let us go home?” Will asked.

“We could probably just leave and no one would notice!” Beverly answered.

“I think they’d notice us all getting on our bikes and riding away-” Dustin added but was cut off by the sound of a siren approaching.

The group of kids watched with wide eyes as three police trucks pulled up to the school and officers hopped out. Amongst the group of men was Hopper. El stopped pacing as she saw him slam the door of his truck.

She started to head over to her dad, jogging towards him and leaving the rest of the group behind. Mike quickly followed her.

“Dad!” She called out as he opened the door to the school, about to walk in.

“El?” He answered. He let the officers behind him enter the school. “Go back with the rest of the students.” He instructed.

“What’s going on?” She asked, ignoring his request.

Mike came to a stop next to her. “We’ve been outside for like two hours, what is happening?”

Hopper sighed. “I have no idea. We just got a call from the principal saying that there was an emergency and to bring the police team with me.”

El and Mike looked at each other with concerned eyes.

“You two have to go back where you came from though. This could be dangerous.” Jim added.

“Dad, we’ve done dangerous before.” El reminded him.

“Yeah, and things have been fine ever since. Look honestly, you guys should just head on home. Tell your friends to go home too or to our house, where ever.” Hopper said. “I’ll be home later, okay? Stay safe.”

“Okay.” El replied and with that Hopper reopened the door and headed into the school. The two teens stood there for a few moments peering into the dark halls but unable to see anything going on inside.

They walked back over to their group of friends and told them what Jim had said.

“O-okay let’s g-go then! It’s a long wuh-walk to the cabin!” Bill stated as he stood up from the grass.

“We should walk past the farm and grab Mikey on our way over,” Stan suggested. “We can update him on all this weirdness.”

The group of kids looked around to make sure the teachers weren’t watching them before slipping away to the main street. They decided that they would retrieve their bikes later, having Steve drive them back that night and ride them back home.

It took about thirty-five minutes to walk to the farm. Luckily Mikey had finished up his home schooling for the day and was able to slip away from the farm for the afternoon. The group filled him on all of the strangeness from earlier that day.

“And what, you guys think this could be linked to the Mind Flayer?” Mikey asked his friends as they approached the cabin.

“Well we’re not sure, but I feel like it could be linked” Dustin explained.

El ran up the steps to the front door and unlocked door, holding it open and letting her friends follow in. The large group centered themselves around the living area. Beverly, Ben, Lucas, and Will sat down on the couch, Bill and Stan pulled up the chairs from the kitchen, Max placed herself on the arm rest of the couch next to Lucas, Richie and Eddie squished onto the reclining chair together, while Dustin, Mike and Mikey sat down on the small area rug. El perched herself on the edge of the coffee table.

“What if we’re reading too much into this?” Max offered. “Like Bill said, something could have gone wrong in the science lab easily.”

“Exactly,” Stan agreed. “I mean Richie practically blew up the lab last week with his genius idea to not pay attention to a word the teacher said!”

“Hey! I was being a great scientist, I knew what I was doing, Stanley!” Richie defended. “Besides, how else was I going to get Miss Anderson’s attention?” He said with a cheeky grin. Eddie elbowed him to get him to stop talking.

“I don’t really want to think about this” Will spoke up.

Everyone’s eyes shifted to Will. The boy had been through a lot dealing with the upside down and the Mind Flayer. Things had mostly gone back to normal since Eleven closed the gate, sealing away the upside down and everything that lurks within. It had been years since that night but the group of kids could never erase the memory from their minds.

Mike saw the fear behind Will’s eyes and instantly understood. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of things stirring up again. No one really did.

“Sorry Will, let’s talk about something else.” He said.

“Let’s play a game!” Beverly suggested.

“Hopper got me the new version of Just Dance, we could try it out?” El asked.

The group gave out a round of agreement and Dustin and Lucas quickly jumped up to move the table out of the way.

They all took turns playing Just Dance, each kid doing their best. Mike watched his friends goofing around, giving it their all. He went up against Richie, his twin calling it a ‘dance battle to end all dance battles’. Richie was a horrible dancer, but inevitable Mike was much worse.

“You’re shit at this, Wheeler!” Richie chirped.

“Shut up, Trashmouth! You dance like an old woman!” Mike threw back.

“Yeah? I learned it from Eddie’s mom!” Richie laughed as he continued to copy the danced moves shown on the TV.

“Beep Beep, Richie!” Eddie groaned from his spot on the chair.

“Don’t worry Eds, your dance moves are way better” Richie looked over his shoulder to give Eddie a wink. Richie’s sure he saw him blush but he didn’t say anything.

The twins finished their ‘dance battle’ and took their seats, breathing heavily beside on another. Their scores popped up on the screen followed by a sound of disappointment.

“You guys are actually the worst!” Beverly announced. “Watch and learn from the pros!” She pulled up El, Max and Dustin and the four of them chose a song.

Somehow the four were actually the best at the game, Dustin holding the high score proudly. They were halfway through the dance, each of them holding an almost perfect score.

“Here comes the golden bonus!” Dustin alerted the others as he waved his arms about in time with the music.

“Don’t distract me Dustin!” Max countered back as she jumped in time.

“And five, six, seven, eight-” Eleven was cut off by the sound of the cabin door flying open, hitting the wall beside it.

Everyone stopped moving and whipped their heads to look at the door. Hopper stood there, breathing heavily with wide eyes.

“We need to talk.” He stated. “Now!”

Taglist:

@alwaysmebeforeyou @88-shooting-stars @aburbules @rrichiettozier @deebaddee @kaitlinlexiepxrrini @lulibeanss @nonblogsense @parkeriddikulus @bevvverlymarsh @crazycharlie03

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darkhymns-fic · 6 years

Text

Poetry Isn’t Your Strong Suit

Lloyd's feelings for Colette could no longer be denied, but how else could he express them to her than just through second-rate necklaces?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Genis Sage, Raine Sage Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: Someone showed me a prompt and I ran with it.

Lloyd knew that he liked Colette ever since he was little, but it was only at thirteen years old that he was finally able to put his feelings for her into words.

Kind of.

Colette had sat at lunch alone when he first saw her, hair so bright that it reminded him of the polished metals his dad would use to craft. After that, his young mind then began to process other things; the way her voice lifted whenever she saw Noishe at the village entrance, how her white dress stood out in the classroom against the brown oak of the walls, and the day she held his hand when she brought him to her grandmother, hoping to share with him the baked cookies her family had made.

There were other girls in the class that he thought were also pretty, especially Professor Raine and her silver hair. But before he could join her fan club with the other boys, she had yelled at him loudly in front of everyone for sleeping during a lesson, and then gave him extra math assignments as punishment. The way she had shouted had been so frightening, which took away any pretty shine Lloyd once had for her.

Colette never shouted – sometimes she barely said a thing at all, and it took a few days for Lloyd to have her speak to him beyond simple polite greetings. After that, she would make faces at the math questions he showed her, and always marveled at the tiny little carvings he drew on the school desk (until Professor Raine found out and had him sit on the floor for the rest of that week). And when she smiled – when she really smiled, and not the kind she showed to adults from the Church or nodded with while in class – it made him happy. How her teeth would show, how it stretched her cheeks, and how bright her eyes would become, so much so that he tried to do all he could to keep them shining.

There would be many girls around with pretty hair, but no one smiled like Colette. On her last birthday, she had smiled so much, holding the necklace he made for her, shaped like an uneven star. It didn’t seem to matter to her that it wasn’t as good as the work his Dad would do. She had held it tightly between her fingers, and the feelings that he had been building for her in his chest, suddenly filled him to the point of overflowing. Something that made his heart beat fast, that nearly made him reach for her hands again until he held it back.

Lloyd wanted to tell her how he felt, but he was never very good at words, and…. he was afraid of saying so to her face. He then asked the smartest person he knew for help – his eight-year old best friend.

“You want to write what?” Genis asked. Both boys were seated before the small pond in front of Genis’ home. There was a tiny mound of pebbles placed between them, each trying their hand at skipping stones. Lloyd had the stronger arm to flick the stone straight past the pond’s perimeter, while Genis just lopped his own straight into the water.

“Just… like, a letter.” Lloyd didn’t look at Genis, keeping his eyes on the water and suddenly feeling very, very self-conscious about the whole thing. “For Colette. I want to write something for her. And I think I need your help doing it.”

He didn’t have to look to know Genis was frowning. “Sis says that your handwriting’s really bad.”

Lloyd started. “She’s not supposed to tell you that!”

“Sis tells me everything! And I’ve looked at your homework enough to know that already.” Genis continued their game, throwing another stone, once again smacking into the center of the pond. “I mean, I guess Colette might still be able to read it. What did you want to write her? Are you going away somewhere?”

“Um, no,” Lloyd said, confused. “Why?”

“People send letters to others when they’re far away, dummy. But you see Colette every day, so I don’t see why you need to? If you want to tell her something, just tell her!”

“I can’t… um…” Lloyd messed up his aim, the stone going off course to the left. “I can’t really say it out loud. Writing it just… seems easier... And you’re good at all that word stuff!”

A pause. “Just tell her you like her already.”

Lloyd’s stone hit right into the moss-covered fence, missing the pond completely. “How did you know?!” he asked, in awe of Genis’ insurmountable knowledge.

“Lloyd, after so long hanging out with you, how could I not know?” Genis finally succeeded in skipping a stone, hitting three splashes before it sunk. “Also, sis told me.”

Lloyd decided to be a little sulky at this, bringing his knees to his chin and staring ahead. “Jerk.”

Still, that was one hurdle overcome, and it gave the boy an opening that he took advantage of before it went away.

“You should just write my letter for me!”

“What?” Genis cried. “I’m not doing that!”

“Well, you owe it to me for being a jerk!”

“How was I a jerk?!”

Lloyd stood up, hand still clasping a pebble. “For saying my handwriting is dumb!”

Genis followed suit, his young face turning a light shade of red. “When did you ever care about that? And it’s true anyway! Besides, me writing your love letter for Colette is super weird!”

Lloyd stuttered out, “It- it’s not a love letter! And don’t say that so loud!”

“Oh, come on! Everyone already knows!”

“No, they don’t!” Lloyd countered, but struggled to think of a follow-up. It took him a full five seconds, fists clenched as he wracked his brain for something good to say. “And what do you know? You’re… only eight after all!”

Genis rolled his eyes. “That’s so lame.” With that, said eight-year old then turned around and lopped numerous pebbles into the lake, which shocked Lloyd to his core.

“That’s cheating! You can’t do that!”

“It’s my pond! So, it’s not!” Genis finished by crossing his arms, standing tall with a smug smile. That stance sparked a competitive beast within Lloyd, one that always seemed to come out whenever they played games together.

“Oh yeah?” He wound up his arm, aiming it at the pond again. “Check this out then!”

“Boys!” A shout reverberated from the house behind them. Raine had both hands on her hips, staring daggers at the children. “Please quiet down while I’m working. You two have been yelling the whole afternoon.”

Raine’s interruption was sudden. Her shout especially threw Lloyd off balance. Just when he was about to throw the stone, he wobbled and threw it at a completely opposite direction – toward Raine’s head.

“Ow! Lloyd!”

Lloyd had never run out of a place so fast.

Genis had come by his home the next day, lugging a giant textbook in his arms, and saying no words about his sister. He dropped it on Lloyd’s worktable, making the structure rattle from the weight. “That’s a thesaurus,” Genis said to Lloyd’s befuddled expression. “To help you find good words for your letter to Colette.”

Lloyd looked blankly at the book. “…Do I have to read all of it?”

“No, just find the page of the word you want to say, but better. It’s in alphabetical order.” Genis then raised an eyebrow. “You… do know your alphabet, right?”

“I’m not that dumb!”

“I’m just making sure!”

The book was as thick as one of his dad’s arms. Lloyd was wondering just how exactly Genis was able to make it through the long trek in the forest while carrying that around. He was good at magic, but shouldn’t he need at least one hand free to do any of that…?

Genis answered his unspoken question. “Sis came with me. She’s just outside.”

“Oh.” Lloyd grew nervous. “Um, is she…”

“She’s fine, though she’s got a nasty bump on her head.”

Lloyd was already not looking forward to Monday.

“Anyway, just use this so you can write your love letter to Colette. I even bookmarked the pages with the words you might want. Like ‘nice’, and ‘pretty’, and ‘the’…”

“I told you, it’s not a love letter!” That sounded so uncool! “But, um, thanks,” he said in a more somber tone.

Genis smirked. “Don’t think too hard on it anyway. I’d help, but Raine wants to try out a new recipe today and I have to make sure she doesn’t melt our cooking pot again.”

Lloyd had intense sympathies for his friend just then. “Sorry.”

Before Genis turned to go, he said, “If you really don’t like what you wrote, I guess I could try writing your letter for you. It’ll be really weird, but only if your letter is that bad. You’d have to rewrite it in your handwriting though. Colette would at least recognize that it wasn’t your writing for sure.”

Lloyd was tempted to jump at the chance. Since Genis let him copy his homework all the time, how was this any different? But then he thought about it, and about Colette’s smile. Is that something Genis would even notice?

“Thanks, Genis,” he said simply, still mulling over his thoughts, barely noticing when his friend finally left the room.

After that, Lloyd put all his willpower into just trying to open the humongous book. He immediately regretted this decision. He already had to write. Why did he need to read, too? Couldn’t he just copy one of those dumb love poems that the Professor made them read for literature class and be done with it?! Not that it was a love poem to begin with!

Lloyd sat at his desk, eyes glazing over the pages, idly noticing the bookmarks that Genis had placed. Why did he want to write this so bad? When he could barely write an essay to save his life, and his grade?

Colette had been so busy with her Church duties lately. She left class early to attend even more lessons, walking a far stretch of land to the temple. Despite how long Lloyd would wait for her, hours after school was already over, the sky would start to darken once she returned. So little time left together before he had to march back home with a whining Noishe. Colette would always apologize on those days, her hands unconsciously touching the necklace he made for her. If only he could have made a better one, if only he could say something that would make her magically stop apologizing and thinking everything was her fault.

He hoped that this letter would make her happy at least, if he couldn’t do all that. He wanted her to smile without fear, and he wanted her to cry whenever she wanted. There were tears in her eyes when he and Genis found her on her birthday, seated on the grass, away from the village. But she had wiped them away before they got close. Lloyd wondered how often she held those tears back. He wanted to tell her that she could cry in front of him if she needed to.

There were too many things that he wanted to say. He dug his fingers through his hair and pulled at them in frustration. “Argh, why does writing have to be hard?”

But like when he made her the necklace, he decided to push through. His skills may not be the best, but he could at least try! He searched for a piece of paper and pen, both so dusty from their lack of use. “Okay! I’ll do it!” he shouted to no one in particular.

It was the first time Lloyd ever pulled an all-nighter.

Lloyd could barely think straight the next morning.

The problem with getting little sleep was that it made his journey to Iselia a bit harder. Luckily, no monsters attacked him this time, and Noishe was more than willing to guide the boy. He was so tired that he was nearly falling asleep atop the dog. Colette, who liked to greet Lloyd everyday (and his cute doggy!) was waiting by the village entrance for him. She immediately noticed the bags under his eyes.

“Lloyd, you look so sleepy,” she commented with worry.

He smiled at her tiredly. “I’m okay, just… had to do chores and junk.”

She smiled back, going over to pat Noishe’s head, scratching behind his big ears and laughing as she did so. Her shoulder brushed past Lloyd, just against the inside pocket of his jacket.

The letter was in there.

Colette didn’t seem to have noticed it. “Ready to go?” she asked him, already starting on their way to the schoolhouse.

This was the time to give it to her. His hands still ached from holding the pen for hours. Bunches of balled up paper littered his room, which would result in an angry Dirk later for not cleaning up. All he had to do was hand her the paper he held close to his chest and tell her what he felt. He had done it so easily with the necklace, despite how much his heart trembled. But the way she was looking at him, so expectant, suddenly froze Lloyd’s limbs.

“Uh…” he started, throat all dry. Noishe sneezed behind him, making him jump. “Um, uh, y-yeah! Let’s go!”

Ah, damn it.

Colette was already leading the way as Lloyd followed her. He could call out and stop her at any time, but his hands were shaking. He had worked so hard on this! Just give it to her!

His numerous chances completely vanished once they finally walked into the classroom. Immediately, he was greeted to Raine’s face – and the small bandage on her head.

“Good morning, everyone,” Raine said as she was seated at her big desk. Sharp eyes latched onto Lloyd quickly. “Good morning, Lloyd. Glad you could join us.”

Wow, that bump really was big! Lloyd winced at the sight, shifting nervously on his feet. “Sorry about… um..” Why could he suddenly not talk today?

“It’s fine. Go take your seat. And Colette, you don’t need to be late yourself just because Lloyd is, too.”

“I- I know! I’m sorry.”

Lloyd watched forlornly as Colette rushed far to her seat, all the way on the other side of the classroom. He had missed his chance…

“Lloyd.”

“Uh, yeah! Sorry!”

It was normal for him to barely pay attention in class, but never before had his mind buzzed so much as it did now. Lloyd’s desk was shifted all the way to the right wall, ever since the ‘desk carving’ incident where Professor Raine thought it best that his acts of vandalism would not be spurred on by a gleeful audience (ie: Colette). Lloyd shifted every so often, unable to take sitting there for six hours until he could finally give it to Colette… but then, didn’t she have to go to the temple later for her Chosen stuff? Argh, he was never going to get it to her then!

Lloyd glanced at the blackboard ahead and saw Raine writing down some math equations. So boring! He knew Colette didn’t like math that much either. Sometimes, he would pass her notes while in class, usually with badly-drawn pictures of dogs (he could carve well enough, but drawing wasn’t his strong suit). But now she was rows away, so that was a bust. Maybe he could have handed her the letter then…

A brilliant idea lit up Lloyd’s mind.

“So, we will be going over the basics once more.” A collective sigh from most in the classroom. “Yes, I know most of you have this down by now, but this will be a good refresher. As well as help catch up those who are behind.”

A furious crinkling of paper whispered from Lloyd’s desk, but luckily Raine’s voice was louder, overpowering any other sound. Genis heard it however, turning around to spy at his friend who was bent over his desk. He was folding up something. Was he making those paper cranes again? Lloyd knew he could just do that during art class, didn’t he?

“Now, from the beginning. When you have one apple, combined with another apple…”

But Genis had never seen Lloyd work so hard on those things before. Being around two rows ahead of Lloyd, he couldn’t see very well, but strained his neck trying to anyway.

“Obviously, it amounts to two apples. This only increases the number of said apples, and not, as some would say, their apparent strength. Numbers can denote different values, and they are not equivalent for all situations.”

Lloyd sat up straight suddenly and seemed to smile at his own handiwork. It was a simple paper plane, though one miles better than what Genis could ever make. Then Lloyd turned to his left, one where Genis knew Colette was sitting.

That was how he was going to deliver his love letter?!

“Ms. Raine,” spoke up one student, a girl with thick glasses, who sat just ahead of the young Chosen. “Would it be alright if I can open the window? It’s getting very humid.”

Lloyd didn’t notice Genis’ open-mouthed stare. This was the best thing he ever thought up! He didn’t have to wait for who knows how long to give this to her. That and he wouldn’t need to just stand there awkwardly while she read it either.

He paid no attention to what was happening up front.

“Alright, Laura. You can do so. Now, let’s review fractions.”

Lloyd calculated the arc of his flight, and then flew his paper plane with careful force. Not like skipping stones, but he was usually better at this. The plane circled just above Colette’s head.

Then the window opened.

The breeze was a bit sudden, ruffling the pages of some open books. Colette brushed back some loose strands over her ear to keep them from flying in her face.

She never noticed the plane above suddenly change direction.

“Aw man!”

Lloyd’s cry of dismay was a bit loud, attracting numerous eyes. The paper plane continued to fly drunkenly above the ceiling, buffeted by light winds before it finally decided to settle on a flat surface with a less than graceful landing.

And it did so on top of Raine’s desk.

Raine looked to it, then back to Lloyd. “What’s this, Lloyd?”

The boy went very pale. Wow, this… did not go as planned at all.

The kids in the classroom then started to voice their own theories on the mysterious paper.

“Is it those doggy drawings again?”

“I bet it’s a gross picture of Ms. Raine!”

“No, it’s a love letter to Ms. Raine!”

“He can’t do that! He’s not in the club!”

Raine ignored all the mutterings and went to pick up the paper. “Well, if this is so important that you needed to interrupt our lesson, Lloyd, then I suppose you won’t mind if I share this with the rest of the class.”

“Wait!” Lloyd shouted. He got so frantic that he jumped right onto his desk, flailing his arms. “Don’t look! That’s not-!”

“Lloyd Irving, get down!

Raine already unfolded the paper plane, not checking if Lloyd heeded her words. He didn’t, standing stock still as she read aloud.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, out of a million people, I chose you…”

Genis slapped his forehead. “You started off with that?!”

“I – I was stuck on the first sentence, okay?” Lloyd yelled.

Raine continued, her voice completely stripped of all emotion.

“Please take my hand, and also know, that whatever you say, I will like the…” Raine squinted. “More? Moist? Oh, it’s ‘most.’” She sighed. “Lloyd, your handwriting has improved, but only slightly…”

The other students laughed, pointing at the boy who was still standing tall on his desk. He quickly scampered back down, but Raine continued to read. Did she know no mercy?!

“The rest doesn’t rhyme, but I want to say, I really like you and want to see you smile. But if you want to cry, that’s okay, too. You are…” Raine squinted her eyes again, though this time in confusion than out of any reading difficulty. “The superlative lassie with the prevalent aortic pump that myself comprehend of.” Silence followed shortly after.

“Wow, and it started off so romantic, too,” a student critiqued aloud.

Genis turned to Lloyd. “Why.”

“I was using the thesaurus like you said to! I wanted to sound all smart!”

“You could’ve just said heart!”

There was apparently more, as Raine’s eyes scanned the lower parts of the letter. But then she folded it up, deciding enough was enough. “Lloyd, while I am flattered you feel that way about me, please don’t throw your proclamations of love around in the classroom. Someone could lose an eye.”

The kids laughed, shouting popular love rhymes as Lloyd looked down, his face red. Though a few remained pointedly silent; the boys of Professor Raine’s club, muttering vengeance for Lloyd taking their beloved’s attention, Genis who was still wrapping his head around it all, and Colette, her eyes still that bright blue. Lloyd had sneaked a quick glance at her, and immediately felt like complete crud.

“Now, I appreciate a man that can transcribe his thoughts neatly. So, we will be going back to our handwriting lessons, Lloyd, after school.”

“Now he gets private lessons too? Come on!”

Unlike the other boys, Lloyd was not so thrilled. This was just another punishment, with even less time he would have with Colette. He looked back to the girl, but her eyes were forward again as Raine restarted her lesson. He hoped he hadn’t messed anything up.

Next time, he was just sticking with jewelry.

Genis couldn’t help but feel bad about the entire thing.

The day dragged on, Raine’s lessons already erasing the previous incident with little impact, except to Lloyd’s pride. The boy had tried to sneak away when class ended, but not before Raine called out to him.

“Now, Lloyd. If you really want to see me smile, you will do these extra lessons for me.”

Most of the class had already left, Colette earlier than most, as she once again had gone off early for Temple training. Only Genis straggled, as he always did to talk with his sister. He watched as Lloyd sulked, walking up to the front of the class.

“You know that wasn’t meant for you,” Lloyd mumbled, still embarrassed.

Raine’s face betrayed no surprise. Instead, she spoke, “Of course. I saw her name on it, no matter how sloppily written it was. And I was there when Genis decided to hand you our thesaurus, after all.” Then, her voice turned a fraction softer, preceding her words with a sigh. “I suggest you tell her your feelings in a more discreet manner, preferably not during class time.”

The boy had no defense to that. “Fine. Sorry.”

Genis wondered then if he really should have written the letter himself.

Lloyd was already morosely writing out sentences on the chalkboard once Genis left, the excuse given to his sister that he would start making her dinner. Despite being only eight, he was a fast learner when it came to cooking (and most other things too, of course). Besides, when one lived with Raine, learning to cook was a necessity.

Instead, he went down the path that led to the temple, where the shore was outstretched. He wasn’t really allowed to go out by himself, but his window of opportunity was short! He had to hurry before Raine would finally leave the schoolhouse.

He barely turned the corner to go outside the village before bumping into someone.

“Genis! I’m sorry!”

Colette had landed on her back, looking up at the young boy with apologetic eyes. Genis remained standing, looking down at her with some bewilderment.

“You know, Lloyd has a point. You really do apologize too much!” He reached for her hand, trying to pull her up as much as his little body was able to. Colette mostly got up through her own strength, but she thanked him all the same.

“Hey, Colette, I actually wanted to tell you something. Is now a good time?”

“Oh, of course!” she answered, hands clasped politely. No priests were with her now, not even her grandmother. This was probably the first time Genis had ever seen her walk by herself from the temple. “Grandmother had to finish up some things,” she said to the question in his eyes. “And they say it’s good training if I walk around this place by myself more often. So that I can prepare for my journey!”

She said this with such positivity that, for a moment, Genis saw something in her eyes. But it vanished so fast. Perhaps it hadn’t been that important.

“It’s about Lloyd and his letter, from today.”

“The letter he wrote to Professor Raine?” She smiled again. “She is really pretty though.”

“But that was for you!”

Colette paused, hands still clasped before her. Genis couldn’t read her face. He decided to just explain further.

“Lloyd wanted to write how he felt about you, but he’s so thick-headed and just didn’t give it to you like any normal person would. He even asked me for help and everything. So, all those things about red roses and your smile and…” A sigh, so much like his sister’s. “Aortic pumps, were for you. This is so weird for me to talking about, but Lloyd’s my friend and I just thought you should know!”

Colette remained silent. Genis then wondered if maybe this was the worst thing he could’ve done for his friend actually, but not like the other options were much better! “You don’t have to tell Lloyd or anything if you don’t like him back. I don’t think he’s going to be writing anymore love letters anytime soon.”

“I do, though.”

Very soft, a breath, one that was swallowed up by the ocean’s waves from far off. Even Genis’ nimble hearing could barely make out a sound.

“I do like him. A lot. So much… I’m sorry.”

Genis considered. “And you’re apologizing… why?”

Colette shook her head, though kept on her smile. It was wider, showing a bit of teeth, and her cheeks stretched enough to create dimples.

“I’m really glad all those things were for me. I’m so happy.”

This worked out even better than Genis had hoped for. He really was smart! “Great! Then you can tell him too and be all happy together.”

That smile faltered. Colette looked off to the side, where her home was. The sky was painted with hues of orange and gold, inviting a certain sleepy air to the world. “I, well, I can’t.” She looked like she would say more, but instead just shrugged.

Genis already had to cut short his self-praises. “Huh? Wait, why can’t you tell him?”

“I can’t.” She repeated. Then a shaking of her head. “I can’t.”

Genis blinked owlishly. Everything that had suddenly made sense to the smartest kid in class just as abruptly didn’t at all. “What? I don’t get it. If you like Lloyd, too, then why not…”

Colette smiled, with closed lips, and her cheeks as unstrained as possible.

“I don’t want him hurt, that’s all. So, keep this a secret between us, okay?” Hands fiddled before her, clasped together so tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, well… okay.” Genis frowned, then just let out a tired breath. “I really don’t get you older kids though. Is this how I’ll be later?”

Colette giggled. “You’ll be great, I think!” She pressed her hands down her dress, addressing any invisible wrinkles. “Um, is Lloyd still in the village? I was hoping to see him after, but my training always lasts really late now.”

“He’s getting tutoring from sis, and suffering.”

“Oh no! Poor Lloyd.”

“I think it’s going to be done soon though. This is usually the time she gets hungry.” Then Genis flinched. “Argh, I have to start making dinner!” Before he rushed off, he said to Colette, “I bet Lloyd would be happy to see you!”

It was the last thing he could do for his friend, despite all this weirdness about feelings and secrets. He was glad to see that Colette nodded to that idea.

“I’ll go see him right now!”

“Great! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

While he rushed through Iselia, already catching Colette going through the school doors, Genis really had to wonder. Maybe this was what love was about, after all?

But what do I know, he thought to himself, pushing all the questions aside. I’m only eight years old, after all.

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #genis sage #raine sage #fanfiction #one shot

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fanatic-writers · 6 years

Text

New Kid in Town: Welcome to Hell

A/n: So I got this request awhile back, and I adore it, so I decided to make a series based on it. I’ve seen High school AUs done and since I am an official high school student, I thought it’d be fun. I have no idea how long this will be or how regularly I’ll update it, but in honor of my first fic coming out around Thanksgiving, I thoughtI’d double post. (Don’t get used to it) -G

Request: Loki, Thor, Frigga, Odin, a family story about Loki's first school day! They live on earth, they are mortals not gods, Loki's best friend could be one of the Avengers!

(I’ll get to the other Avengers and friends as the series goes on)

Pairing: as of rn all pairings are platonic, but that is likely to change.

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He hated it here, granted he had only been here for a few weeks, but he already wanted to go back home. He supposed this was his home now, but he didn’t think it would ever feel that way. It had taken him awhile to make friends of his own back home, and here he figured he’d be stuck in the same l pace as he used to be. Friends with people who were idiots because his brother was friends with them.

“Loki,” his mother called “you’re going to be late and how would that look? Late on your first day,” she trailed off

The boy pulled on a green jumper and made his way to the kitchen quickly grabbing a piece of toast and heading out the door, his brother was already waiting and as always socializing with some girl.

“Wait, so your name is Thor?” she held in a laugh “I’m sorry I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“It’s fine it gets weirder,” Loki heard his brother say

“Our mother’s name is Frigga, and our father is named Odin,” Thor informed her

“And you control thunder and hit things with hammers?” she asked, “Also, our?”

“Ready to go Thor?” Loki piped up joining the two despite not wanting to

“Let me guess your name is Baldr?” the girl said turning to Loki

“No,” he replied, annoyed by this new girl

“His name is Loki,” Thor said

“Well I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” she informed him “You two want a ride? I usually stop for coffee, and I wouldn’t mind getting you something as a welcome to the neighborhood thing.”

Loki looked over to see his brother with a wide grin and rolled his eyes, he’d much rather freeze on the walk to school than go and get coffee with their neighbor. She walked them over to her car which to Loki’s surprise looked like shit. She looked like the kind of girl whose parents would buy her whatever she wanted but instead she had an older car marked with a few dents. As she opened her door, she climbed across the seat to unlock the other door and slip up the front seat to let Loki in.

“It looks a bit cramped, but I have short legs so. Oh, and if there's any garbage back there you can just… throw it somewhere. Sorry, it's kind of a shit hole, but it wasn’t too expensive, and my parents made me buy my own car after I accidentally hit one of theirs while trying to park my other car.”

“It’s alright,” Thor replied sliding into his seat.

Loki tucked his legs to his chest in anticipation of having his feet crushed but was surprised when the seat only slip back half as far as Thor’s was.

Y/n turned around and smiled at him “Told you, short legs.” and with that, they were off.

After hearing about the story of how she got her car and seeing the dents on the side, Loki had to admit he was a little afraid for his life but, for the most part, the drive was boring and safe. The girl pulled up to the drive-thru for their coffee and despite the large bill paid for the three of them. The only complaint was the lack of cupholders. They even arrived at school 15 minutes early which was great because the brothers had to meet their ambassadors aka an over glorified student that probably didn’t even want to show them around.

“You guys need help finding lockers or anything?” she asked when they got into the school. Loki immediately darted off hoping that was enough of an answer. After a few minutes to get his bearings he made his way to the office and was face to face with the girl that had brought him here.

“You’re in luck,” she smiled as she showed him a slip of paper with his name on it “I give the best tours.”

Loki rolled his eyes but followed her around the school as he was told.

“So you probably got the run down the other day like most transfers, so I’m basically going to tell you who to avoid and what classes are the worse, which is all of them let's be honest. You’re in math and chem with Tony so if you have trouble you can always copy his work, he also does homework for kids but he charges, and it’s not worth it. And you have English with Nat and me so that should be fun, Wanda is in our class I think you’ll like her.” she lead him from class to class, and as much as Loki tried to not like her it was reasonably hard considering they were more alike than he initially thought.

“Question,” she stopped in the hallway “do you hate this place? And be honest.”

He hesitated slightly “yes.”

‘Good,” she smiled “you’ll fit right in.”

His first class wasn’t so bad he had to take a mandatory art class and their was a quieter girl that he sat next to, despite not being able to draw at all he couldn’t help but try when sitting next to someone who seemed so naturally good at it. Per her duties Y/n was waiting for him after every class, they had English together right before lunch.

“You’ve got a few options,” she told him “sit with me and my friends which I can almost guarantee you’ll hate considering my friends are ass holes, sit with the other transfers or go and talk to Wanda and sit with her and her friends. I know it sounds like I’m pushing you out but she is actually one of the most interesting people I’ve met she’s from Sokovia, her accent is beautiful, and she is honestly the smartest girl I’ve ever met.” Y/n pointed out the girl that was in Loki’s art class, and he nodded.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he walked over to the girl “mind if I join you?”

She was nose deep in a book “go ahead,”

“We have art together, you’re an amazing painter,” he commented trying to break the ice, but it seemed Wanda was more interested in her book than him. He looked over to see Y/n and her friends laughing, he should’ve sat with them, there was still one open seat he could still infiltrate their group. He sighed and moved to the seat which was taken by Thor just before he got to it.

“Brother,” Thor smiled “I didn’t realize you were going to sit with Y/n.”

“I didn’t realize he was either,” A redhead piped up

“Oh shut it, Nat,” Y/n said, “you were a transfer once too, and the only reason we’re friends is because Wanda introduced us when you moved here.”

“Yeah well, I was a cool transfer,” Nat smirked “He’s from England,” Y/n countered

Loki rolled his eyes “I could just go sit with Wanda,”

“Oh please that’s social suicide,” Nat said

“Clint sits with him, and that doesn’t stop you from liking him,” another boy came up to the table and sat in his seat.

“I don’t like Clint,” she said “It’s common knowledge, and the new kid is going to have to figure it out.” the boy replied

Y/n sighed as the conversation carried on and moved to stand beside Loki. “What do you want to do because I can pull up a chair or I can introduce you to Wanda or Clint or whoever else you want to sit with.”

“You run this school doesn't you?” Loki asked

“No that would be Skye and Maria,” the girl said pointing to a table filled with more jocks and cheerleaders “my group is full of the outcasts, the jock that is a senior but didn’t make team captain or varsity, the girl that’s good at art but not good enough, the math nerd who’s loaded and is entitled af, and the musician who isn’t going to pick up a violin after she graduates.”

“And Wanda’s group?”

“They’re the artists, the nerds that are actually nice, and the people who actually have talent.” she informed him “They know the way this school works better than anyone else because they’re able to watch everything from the sidelines. Some see joining their group as social suicide but really if you want to fit in with a group theirs is the place to be, not ours.”

Loki nodded and walked back over to the table which had a few more people sitting at it now.

“If it isn’t richy-rich,” one of the boys at the table chimed in

“I’m just here to introduce one of the new students,” Y/n said visibly tensing at the nick-name

“Not good enough for you like the rest of us?” the same boy said

“Clint,” Wanda muttered, “not now.”

“This is Loki, he’s from England. I figured he’d prefer your group to mine.” the girl said like nothing was wrong and left, Loki could still feel the tension as he took a seat. “It’s nice to meet you,” the other boy said “I’m Bruce, and that’s Wanda, and if you hadn’t figured out, he’s Clint. Scott should be here soon.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Loki said

“It’s really not, don’t pretend it is,” Clint said

“Clint,” Wanda said again

“What, we all know he’s only here cause Y/n doesn’t want to ruin her perfect group. They’re the ‘cool’ outcasts, and we’re the other ones, the leftovers. The ones who don’t have enough money or street cred to be with her and her friends.”

“She seemed nice,” Loki muttered

“She is,” Wanda spoke up “she just has funny ways of showing it. I wouldn’t tell you to avoid her but,” she sighed “like she said you’re probably better off here.”

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A/n: I hope you guys like this series idea, I have no idea where it’s going so if you have suggestions let me know! -G

tag list: @17marvelousfreak @error-404-found @r-alexandra01

(If you’d like to be added let me know!

#tony x reader #tony stark #loki #thor #wanda maximoff #bruce banner #steve roges #natasha romanoff #loki x reader

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pacman-tattoo · 7 years

Text

connect [rich g. x fem!reader x jake d.]

( Can you do a Poly Rich x Fem Reader x Jake fic? Preferably where the reader is a big geek and likes to cosplay. (Probably met when reader was doing the costumes for the play) )

ok but i love this

ok this also went from ‘big geek who likes to cosplay’ to ‘geek, likes to cosplay, does costumes for drama dept. and knows shit about theatre’ because i couldnt resist tbh

this is 10,000 words. brb gonna go die

pls dont expect this from me since this was just something that i got rly rly into writing and got rly carried away

warnings: uhhh none that i can think of other than general language but let me know if im forgetting stuff

Alright. You could do this. All you had to do was come up with costumes, take measurements, make everything by yourself, and have everything ready in time for dress rehearsal to begin - along with keeping up with schoolwork, going to Hobby Lobby (which, thank fuck you were getting a huge discount for, because otherwise you’d basically be destroying your own shit in order to make anything) to get everything you needed, and basically do everything your average person needs to survive. So basically, you were ready to die a bit more inside and start multitasking - and lose sleep, but that was normal. What wasn’t normal was the show you were doing costumes for. When Mr.Reyes mentioned doing Midsummer, you imagined you’d be spending your nights sewing costumes for fairies - not... zombies. But you forced a grin and told him you’d do your best, and clutched your sketchbook to your chest, the paper with the cast list and roles jammed in, and the script for the play sandwiched between binders in your bag.

This was fine. You’d go and watch one of their rehearsals to get an idea of how long everyone would have between costume changes, and Mr.Reyes would be speaking his vision to you as you would hastily scribble notes down, basically becoming a bobble-head as you tried to take into account everything. You’d start doing homework during classes, read online for whatever book and bullshit your way through any quizzes. Maybe you could copy some (or almost all) answers off of Christine if she’d let you. Then eventually you’d start spending your last class taking a nap with Christine in the drama room while the rest of the class did whatever - or working on whatever schoolwork you could if you weren’t tired.

The things you did for costume design.

Christine was the first person you measured. She’d been through this numerous times before, telling you her height and weight happily and smiling at you. Her smile fell at one point as you were measuring her chest.

“You might want to be careful, [y/n],” she said softly, “I mean, I don’t mean to be rude but...” She glanced over to where the rest of the cast sat, chatting among themselves. “I don’t think they know how this works?”

“You don’t sound rude!” You chirped, “they’re new to drama, right?”

She nodded. “I don’t mean to sound mean or anything - I just thought I should warn you that someone might take offense to you asking their weight? Sorry, I know that sounds kinda weird-”

“Nah, it’s cool, Christine,” you shrugged, “I’ll explain that this is just for me to know and that this won’t be shared with anyone else. Thanks for the heads-up, though.”

Christine only smiled. After her, you had Jake Dillinger next on your list. He gave you the information you needed without question, and you took to measuring. After the awkward silence began to creep in between you, he finally spoke.

“Do you do this a lot?”

You hummed as you looked up. “Measuring people?”

“Yeah!” He smiled, “like... costume stuff.”

You nodded. “It’s kind of my passion.”

Jake smiled at you. God, you knew how many people would kill to have Jake Dillinger even look their way - and here you were, tape measure around his waist without a second thought to it while you were fairly sure you had at least one pair of eyes on you. It didn’t click until half-way through measuring his inseam that some of these people probably have never seen anyone taking anyone’s measurements.

Well, this was going to be fun.

Next was Rich Goranski. He raised a brow when you asked for his height and weight, but the moment you were about to launch into your ‘I need to know this because it’s legit important for costuming-” speech, he shrugged and told you.

“You do realize how this looks, right?” He said, slightly smirking while you slightly slapped at his leg. “What?”

“Move your leg.”

“What?” He repeated, before moving his foot slightly, “oh.”

“How does this look, Rich?” You said, looking back up at him.

“You don’t know?”

“Enlighten me.”

After a pause, he only frowned. “Never mind.”

That’s what you thought.

Jeremy was fine. He might have been somewhat awkward for a second, his eyes kept flickering from a spot on the wall to you as you measured anywhere below his waist, but he was quiet and didn’t ask questions and let you work - taking any instructions without hesitation. Brooke was similar, although much happier and barely hesitated to give you her weight and height. Heck, she actually complimented you on your dress at one point - something you’d made earlier in the year. Jenna was similar, although much chattier - which was definitely fine. You actually liked it, compared to how quiet everyone else had been while you’d taken their measurements.

Then came Chloe. You’d known about her and Jake’s relationship in the past, so maybe that was why she’d been glaring at you the entire time you basically breathed around Jake. But she smiled.

“Height and weight?”

She hesitated. “Why?”

You sighed. “This will stay between you and me - I just need it for costuming reasons.”

Chloe clicked her tongue before answering your question. Barely half a second later, she spoke once more. “I saw Jake was talking to you.”

“And so did Christine and Rich and Brooke and Jenna.” You shrugged, “look, Chloe, if you’re trying to say there was anything going on - there wasn’t. I took his measurements, he asked if I do this a lot, and I told him I did since costumes are my thing. Heck, we haven’t talked before today, so if you’re worried about anything between us-”

“I’m not worried,” she snapped. “I just-” She frowned as she watched you fumble with the measuring tape, “I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas since Jake obviously has his eyes on someone else.”

You finally looked up after straightening out the tape. “We’ve barely ever talked before. I’m not going to fall in love with him after one talk.”

Chloe only stared at you for a moment, before letting you finish up your job. You shut the folder you kept, making sure all the papers were secure, shoving your measuring tape into your pocket, and snatching your bag from a chair. You thanked them for being patient, forcing your smile as you make a comment about how you’ll pick up supplies and get things done as soon as you can, only receiving a halfhearted response from everyone but Christine and Mr.Reyes, which managed to evoke something from both Jeremy and Jake, which in turn managed to get the rest of the cast to give you more than you’d expected.

Well, that really showed you how fickle people could be. Not that you needed it - but still. You weren’t sure whether it was Jake or Jeremy that made them change their minds, but you left without thinking too much into it.

You had work to do.

A week later and you’re already buried in your work. The contents of your room have practically been shoved into the closet as you invested all your time into each little detail in each costume. You spent your days either working on small details while in different classes, spray painting shoes during drama, or scribbling in answers to homework due the next period (or day, if you were lucky), courtesy of Christine. If you had a chance, you’d crash on the small, cheap couch in the drama room for a bit, and then you were back home and sewing and (rarely) burning your fingers on hot glue.

It was hell, but it was worth it.

The rustling of paper and plastic bags caught your attention, snapping your attention away from the warming glue gun, which wasn’t warming up fast enough for your liking. There stood Christine, admiring the different pieces of costumes that were strewn about - the bare bones of Brooke’s dress that still needed the bows fixed and lime green details, Christine’s own dress hanging on a hanger only needing tiny touch-ups, a shirt you found for Chloe that you had yet to touch, and one of Rich’s costumes already near completion.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You need a break. C’mon,” she said, sitting on the edge your bed, “I brought food... and more hot glue sticks.”

“Yes!” You smiled, hopping up. You shoved your backpack from it’s spot, sitting cross-legged as you took one of the Chipotle cups from her.

Christine sat on your bed, unfolding the bag as she hands you your usual order. You thank her and almost immediately break into your food. Sometimes you wonder how you ended up with such a great friend, considering she lets you copy off her work without question during your sleepless weeks and memorized your order (not that you haven’t done the same, but still). Then again, ten years of friendship have made the two of you this close. Sleepovers and doing theatre together until high school - when you decided you didn’t like doing it as much - and movie nights where the two of you screamed at stupid horror movies or shifted uncomfortably at random sex scenes or jammed out to movie musicals; all built up your friendship over the years, even if there were a few fights from time to time. In the end, you two were closer than anyone else you two knew.

“Jake asked me to come to his Halloween party on Friday,” she said as she opened the container containing her own order.

“And?”

“I think I might go.” She shrugged, “he’s so sweet, [y/n]. He suggested that we go as prince and princess.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled, “do you still have that-”

“Renaissance costume? Yeah,” she smiled, “it still fits! I mean, it was only a year ago, but still.”

“Well... have fun, I guess,” you shrugged. She stared at you.

“I was... actually going to take you with me? Jake said it’d be okay, and you’ve been pretty stressed about all the costumes, and I just thought you could use a night out-”

You traced circles into the condensation forming on the cup, awkwardly taking a sip. You did have a costume, so it wasn’t like you weren’t prepared. Albeit it be based off of a video game character, it was still something. “People are gonna say I’m a geek.”

“So? People know that I’m a theatre geek. Besides, if anyone says anything, at least you have the satisfaction that you made your costume yourself!”

You eyed the pair of long-fall boots in the corner of your room, the portal gun you’d ordered resting against them. Maybe you’d at least ditch the portal gun for Halloween - you didn’t want to risk damaging it, considering the house would probably be full of drunk teenagers. You looked back to Christine.

“I’ll go if we can have movie night on Saturday. Me, you, and a couple bags of discount Halloween candy,” you brushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“No horror movies,” she said. You frowned.

“Fiiine. No Singing in the Rain.”

She was taken aback, “but [y/n]-” She paused, “actually, I have something better. I’ll pick you up.”

The backyard was the quietest place, for some strange reason. The music wasn’t threatening to knock pictures and paintings off of the walls, there wasn’t the blazing heat of a hundred teenager bodies - quite the opposite, in fact, and you were wishing you brought some sort of jacket - and the lighting was dim. Sure, it wasn’t dead silent - people littering the porch and lounging around the pool (or, if they didn’t care enough, they stripped down to next to nothing and jumped into the icy water before letting out a scream at how fucking cold it is), but it wasn’t too much. You sat in a porch swing, hugging a pillow and swaying back and forth as you wondered where Christine was. Maybe you’d convince her to leave a bit earlier than the two of you had planned, and you’d crash in her bed since fuck the couch, the couch is always cold.

The swing suddenly jerked back, sending you immediately gripping onto the back and arm. When you turned to confront the fuck that decided to throw themselves into the spot next to you, you were met with the familiar face of a certain boy who asked you if you realized how ‘this’ looked when you measured him. He sort of grinned at you, as you sink back into your spot, clutching the pillow closer to your chest. Just what you needed: Rich Goranski.

“Y’know, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he began suddenly, not caring to greet you, “but Christine n’ Jake both mentioned you were around here somewhere, so...”

“I’m taking a break.” You ran your thumb over the corner of the pillow. “From costumes,” you added on, “Christine’s making me.”

He nodded and smiled again. “Good. You deserve to let loose sometimes.” He paused, “who are you?” You looked at him, before he just gestured toward your body.

You glanced down to your costume. “Just a video game character.”

He didn’t respond at first, but the moment your attention drifted back to the pillow, he spoke. “That’s cool. I’m Jason,” he said, “from the movies? Friday the 13th?” The mask gleamed in the low light from overhead, and you could barely see the red streak peeking out slightly from underneath it, boldly standing out against golden brown.

You sort of smile. “I know. I like horror movies.”

“You do?” He sounded genuinely surprised. You didn’t blame him, honestly - especially with the reaction you had earlier when all he really did was sit next to you.

“Yeah. I mean, I get fucking terrified, but they’re still good.”

He chuckled a little, reaching up and pushing at the edge of the slipping mask, poising it back at the top of his head, “you wanna grab a drink?”

“I’m fine.”

Rich pressed his lips together, obviously not expecting you to reject his offer. He pushed back slightly, basically swaying the swing back and forth slowly. “You do costume shit often?”

You had to admit - you weren’t fond of his word choice. But you shouldered your thoughts, squirming uncomfortably against the wood, “yeah. Kind of my passion.” You nearly decided against it, but you were already speaking, “I made this,” you gestured slightly toward your outfit. “And the boots, too,” you tapped your fingers against the metal curving out of the back.

He didn’t speak, just staring. “Can I?” He reached out a hand. You slowly nod.

You barely knew Rich Goranski - at least, personally. He sprung up during sophomore year and was Jake’s friend, and has slept with numerous girls if the rumors surrounding him were anything to go by. Plenty of people didn’t catch his attention - you and Christine were never the object of his eye, as were many of your friends - but the ones that did seemed to be the popular, gorgeous girls that seemed fawned about by everyone. You heard about how he was one of those guys who’s focus was basically getting into girls’ pants and to watch out because his fingers like to roam or some bullshit.

But here he sat, right next to you, tracing over the detail of your boots. His attention didn’t wander to your thighs or chest or anything, and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he let out the softest gasp at the metal curve of the brace of the boots. Rich seemed genuinely interested, soaking in every part of what would be a complete cosplay if you had your portal gun - and heck, you kind of regret not bringing it if your boots were enough to stun him. For a moment, the cool Rich Goranski who makes stupid sexual comments faded away. For a moment, you saw someone else.

And within a moment, his hand jerked back and he was gone. He leaned back, gave you a half of a grin, and eased back into his usual cocky, too cool for this shit persona. “I’ll, uh, see you later,” he stood, the swing drawing back a little too quickly.

The swing threw itself forward, and you nearly fell out if it weren’t for Rich, quickly catching you by the shoulders, his fingers warm against your bare skin. He chuckled softly, tracing circles in your skin with his thumb.

“You alright?” He said softly. You dumbly nodded, movements slow as you leaned back. He smiled again, and for a split second, you swore you saw the fainted, thinnest pattern of a circuit creep onto his features, etched out across his freckled cheeks ever so faintly. “Good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to someone as cute as you.”

His touch lingered a few seconds more before he stepped away, making another comment about how he’ll see you later. The warmth of his touch seemed to haunt your skin, the circles he traced feeling as if it had been tattooed there, just as a reminder that that was real and Rich had just been talking to you. You dismissed the thoughts quickly, standing slowly and stretching, bones popping softly. You’d find Christine and see if you two could leave. Passing out in Christine’s room sounded amazing, and the promise of sleep sounded like it might be able to wash off the ghost of a touch.

You eventually found her on the couch, talking to some kid in a cyborg costume - Jeremy? You remembered his face and his body too well, honestly, but his name seemed to slip your mind - albeit it looked more like he just wore a onesie to the party as a last minute option. You couldn’t really judge - he seemed happy. Whether it be from the fact he was talking to Christine, because who wouldn’t be happy talking to Christine, or because he was at this party or because whatever, you couldn’t be sure.

“Hey, [y/n]!” She smiled, “you remember Jeremy, right?”

Awkward kid that kept getting nervous when measured below the belt. “Yeah. Hi,” you said, sinking into the spot next to Christine, waving at Jeremy. He sort of awkwardly smiles - that sort of smile that’s just oozing with damn it her friend is here. The sort of shit you often saw in movies.

“Anyway, you were saying?” Christine said, looking back to Jeremy.

He stared, looking from her to you before deciding on whatever he was about to say. “I was wondering if, uh, you wanted to go out with me?”

Oh shit, he actually went for it. You looked to Christine, before snagging the keys out of your pocket after seeing how tense she had immediately grown. You whispered, “I’ll go get the car. Meet you in five.” And left the living room as quickly as you could.

Thirty minutes later and you’re almost to Christine’s house, listening to her ramble about how Jeremy used to be kind of a sweetheart in the past - he didn’t really talk to her, but he was “kind of adorkable” whenever she saw him. Awkward, but adorkable. And now he’s changed and he’s changed from a dork to a dick sometimes, being one of the popular boys who hangs out with Rich and Jake.

You ditched your boots in the car, following her into her house, listening to her now talk about the shit that Jake pulled and how she dumped him after seeing that he wasn’t over Chloe. Within the next few thirty, you had showered and had donned the comfiest of pajamas and crawled into bed next to Christine.

When you woke up, she was crying.

“It’s Jake.”

buzz

“They’re saying Rich burned down his house-”

buzz

“Jake had to jump out of a window-”

buzz

“[y/n]-”

You took her phone, it buzzing to life endlessly against your palm. Rumors were flying, blocked by your palm “hey, c’mon. Halloween candy, movie day. Singin’ In the Rain. Alright?”

Her arms were wrapped around you within seconds, her face hot with tears and buried in your neck. “... Yeah. Alright.” She felt your arms wrap around her, and you peek at her screen. Numbers she didn’t know, numbers you’d never recognize, kept spitting rapid-fire across the screen.

You shut off her phone. Sure, none of it was directed toward her, but jesus it was a lot to take in - especially because you knew where Christine’s mind was, even if it wasn’t an active thought. There went multiple roles - roles she and Mr.Reyes probably couldn’t handle alone. You traced circles in the thin fabric of her shirt.

“Everything will be alright.”

click click click

“He-ey, [y/n]!”

click click click

Was it rude to speed up when the other person was on crutches? Well... at least you had somewhat of a reason. You were Christine’s friend, and you still weren’t completely sure how she felt about him - so you’d play it safe and avoid him as best as you can. But you slowed eventually, turning to face him, smiling a little.

“Hey, Jake,” you said, awkwardly shoving your hands into the pockets of your dress, rocking slightly on your heels. “... How are you?”

He doesn’t seemed phased by the fact you were kind of ignoring him, but smiles ever brighter now that you are talking to him. “I’m great!”

For a second, you swore he didn’t even realize he broke both of his legs. “That’s good.” You sort of smiled, “where’s Chloe?” Fuck, why did you ask that-

“I’m... not really sure. Probably with Brooke,” he said, “hey, have you finished any of my costumes?”

“You’re still in the play?” You asked slowly, before he nodded.

“Yeah! It’s been pretty great, and I can still do most of my stuff, so... why not?”

You nodded slowly, “I’ll talk to Mr.Reyes about a costume parade tomorrow, since almost everything's done,” dear fuck, was that a lie, “and I’ll make any fixes necessary!”

Jake nodded, still smiling. He had no idea what a costume parade was, did he? Whatever - he was smiling and he’d learn eventually.

Time to buy as many energy drinks and stay up finishing every costume you could. Scratch that, finish every costume because you needed to. Would Christine probably get mad you were pushing yourself like that? Probably. Were you going to tell her? Nope. At least, not until after everything was done.

“Tomorrow I won’t be here to help you all with costume changes.” You announced, standing next to a rack of costumes backstage, “so I ask that you all please be careful and to help each other if possible. Yes, you might miss a cue since this will be the first time,” you ignore the look Christine gave you, “but I will be here specifically to help with the quick changes after that. I’ve spent weeks making these costumes with quick changes in mind,” you plucked Jeremy’s reversible off of a hanger, “which is why I’ve kept most things simple and things that don’t need much help getting in and out of. For example, this-” you hold up the jacket- “is what’s called a reversible.”

You slid your arms into it, it hanging slightly longer due to Jeremy being a bit of a string bean, “on one side, it looks like this. But,” you removed the article of clothing, flipping it inside out, “it becomes this when reversed. Hence the name: reversible.”

At the lack of questions, you went on. “I assume you all have been informed of the costume parade? Basically, all you all will be doing is trying on your costumes and I’ll be discussing any changes that need to be made. Understood?” You barely had any reaction, before forcing another smile and continuing, “good! I’ll be sitting out in the audience, so just come line up at the front of the stage when you’re all in your first costumes.”

At the lack of any protests, you were out n the audience, planted in a seat next to the kid who does lighting - Josh. He didn’t look up, eyes pinned to the phone in his hand as he switched from app to app, not really giving a shit. Eventually, after moments of dreadful silence, he looked over to yu and smiled a little.

“Costume girl, right?” He said, and you realized the smile had been more of a smirk, as if he was planning something. You shrugged off the thought - he wouldn’t be that stupid, messing with any of your costumes... unless he had a death wish.

“Yeah. Lighting boy, right?” You replied. If he wasn’t going to even ask your name, you wouldn’t use his.

But he chuckled. “Yeah. Right.” He looked back to his phone. “So I hear you and Jake are... something.”

What the fuck. “We aren’t? Where did you-”

“I dunno. I don’t just ask a cute guy’s best friend shit about how to woo him when I like him,” he shrugged, “I get my friends to do that shit so that I don’t fuck it up halfway through saying his name.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

He cut you off, “plus, not naming any names, but a certain someone kept blabbing about how Jake never shuts up about you sometimes.”

You rested your hands in your lap. How many times had you and Jake actually talked? Then again, how many times had he and Christine said a word to each other?

Jake was cute - you couldn’t deny that. But... did you really know him? At all? The question weighed down on you - and to no one but Christine, it was obvious you were distracted as you made small comments about each costume. You all but completely skipped over Jake, dealing with the thought that he was talking about you proving to be more difficult that you first hoped. Soon enough, you packed up your shit and left, practically dashing to the school parking lot, jamming your key inside the car and throwing your shit into the passenger seat.

Jesus, fuck, you needed to be alone. Just for the rest of the day. You had plans you had to take care of tomorrow.

The hospital was quiet, the only noise being the soft bustle of nurses and family members or friends and such. Your steps felt like they were echoing around you, your bag hanging low on your back as you searched for Rich’s room. Eventually you find it, knocking softly first before slowly pushing the door open and slowly walking in. The lights were dim and you almost left, only to end up lingering for a moment. Was he asleep? Or... had he not woken up?

The pale light of a cloudy morning flooded in the room, brushing over Rich’s features and causing the faintest glint of light to reflect onto the floor from one of the balloons. You felt like an intruder, standing in near silence as Rich breathed, burn scars creeping slightly up his neck and into sight. How badly was he hurt? Hell, how did the fire even start? He was fine when he was talking to you, wasn’t he? Fuck if you knew. Part of you was glad that you and Christine had left earlier - but still rested the pit of dread in your that maybe you could have stopped this or something. Maybe you could have helped him, even if you weren’t sure how. The gentle, doe-like eyes that greeted you as he stared in wonder at your effort, your sleepless nights, your patience - all wrapped up in a pair of fancy cosplay boots. His eyes were burned into your memory.

You should go. Maybe you could come back in a few hours and maybe Rich would be awake-

“.... [y/n]?”

It was broken through a yawn, but Rich had definitely called your name. You turned away from the door, and his eyes were on you, squinting as he tried to make out your features before he suddenly smiled at the sight of you. You sort of smile awkwardly, walking in but pausing a the light switch, reaching up only to be stopped by Rich.

“Don’t. I... like it dark in here.”

Whatever. His decision, right? Your hand fell back to your side slowly, and eventually you walked over to his bed. You hesitated to speak at first, but finally settled on the only question you could muster up, s you wrapped your fingers around the straps of your bad awkwardly. “... How have you been?”

He frowned slightly. Oof. Probably not the best question to ask. He answered with a soft, “I’m here.”

“A lot of people miss you,” you said, cautiously sitting at the foot of his bed, ready to move back up if necessary. He doesn’t say anything about it. “If anyone wanted to find your locker, they could. A lot of notes and shit are all over it,” you forced a smile. “It’s really sweet, honestly.”

He doesn’t respond at first. Rich just sat there, eyes on you as he tried to think of something - anything - to say. Gone was that cocky, flirtatious exterior for a moment. He was unsure, trying to muster up any words. “What have they been saying about me?”

Holy shit, Rich Goranski has a lisp. You sort of smiled at the thought - what a cutie. “Different shit. I... think there’s a couple people try to curve the rumors, but-”

“Yeah. I get it.” He frowned.

“Rich?” You were going to regret it, you knew it, but you couldn’t shake the desire to ask. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer again.

“The play’s going well,’ you said, breaking the silence.

“Good. Is... Chirstine mad about-”

You cut him off quickly, “no! Definitely not, dude. No one could be mad at you.”

“What about Jake?”

“Jake’s... Jake. He hasn’t been holding anything against you, honestly,” you said slowly.

“How’s Jeremy?” He suddenly asks.

“Jeremy? He’s... still Jeremy, I guess.”

“Alright.” He paused, studying your face. How tired did you look? Fuck, you knew you should have put on something - just enough makeup to cover the bags under your eyes at least. “Have you been sleeping?”

You tensed at the question. Maybe not as much as you should... Fuck, you downed a energy drink just an hour ago to give you the strength to live through Sunday and not sleep until five in the afternoon.

Apparently, your silence was enough of an answer. “Go home and sleep,” he said softly, “I’ll still be here, i-if you want to come back-”

“Yeah. I’ll be here the day after the show.” You stand, “we can talk more then, alright?”

He nodded. He wanted to say something, but he left the words unsaid as you slowly leave the room. He looked over to the bear sitting on the table next to his bed, and frowned. “Fuck.”

Jake missed one of his cues the first night you helped him. Could he help it? He had a cute girl helping him in and out of his costumes. He liked the way you’d gently smooth out a wrinkle in a shirt or the way you’d smile after making sure everything was right. Was it stupid that he thought about your fingertips running across his chest as you blindly found the edge of his jacket, and that the fact your arms were around him for barely a minute drove him crazy? Fuck, he wasn’t sure, but you were cute and it distracted him because you were so serious about this and he didn’t wanna mess up but how could he focus when he had a cutie like you hanging around him, specifically there for him. Everyone else was fine on their own for the most part - maybe you had to zip up Brooke’s dress and help Jenna at least once, but other than that, you were the center of his attention.

Was it bad that he really liked that? Fuck if he knew.

He was going to ask you out. Sbarro? Sbarro. Sbarro was a good option - who didn’t like pizza? He at least knew you did, considering one night Mr.Reyes ordered pizza for all of you before the second run through of the night. Then again, maybe Sbarro wasn’t a good idea then - you’d probably be tired of pizza. Maybe just the mall in general - he’ll try to pay for you if he can and maybe you two could just talk and maybe there wouldn’t be someone to steal the attention away with their performance art.

Did that sound needy? Fuck, it probably did. He’ll have to figure out how to ask you out. Hopefully Christine didn’t say anything to you - then again, she didn’t seem like the person to, and... she was oddly okay with him subtly bringing up the idea of dating you.

"I can’t believe it,” you hissed softly, “I spent weeks making costumes - and now Jeremy doesn’t even fucking show up!”

Jake frowned. You were pissed.

“I mean, Jake, you broke both of your legs and you’re here. I just... I don’t know,” you murmured. Your gaze fell to the floor, your arms crossed across your chest as you held back tears. You worked so fucking long and Jeremy just straight up blew off the entire play. Now Mr.Reyes had to make time to get through Rich’s changes, and Jeremy’s and-

Jake’s hand was on your cheek. “Hey,” he cooed softly, “it’ll be alright. Jeremy will be here - he wouldn’t blow off something this important.”

You looked up at him and he was blown away. God, you had beautiful eyes. “You think so?”

“Yeah!” He smiled, slowly tearing his hand away from your cheek, gripping the handgrip tightly. He hesitated for once, unsure about the timing, but decided hes go for it. “Hey, [y/n]? I was wondering if maybe you’d-”

“Jeremy!”

The two of you looked up as Jeremy strolled in, usurping your attention away from him. He could tell it was taking everything to prevent yourself from marching over to him and chewing him out. Maybe he’d tell you after the show - give you time to calm down since you were practically burning, hatred oozing out of every pore. He watched as you stared, watching Jeremy talk to Christine, holding up something before watching her turn and walk away from him.

“Places for scene two, people!”

Jake left you standing alone, seething as you stared down Jeremy. If looks could kill… Jake left you after a few moments, hesitating slightly.

You kept staring at Jeremy. Something was off. He seemed… anxious, uncertainty beginning to practically drip from every inch of him, his hands still clutching some pink shoe-box he had drawn out of his bag. What was wrong with him? He used to be different - acting cool and so sure, save for Halloween night. He moved, intending on running out on stage - something that’d ruin the show for sure - and before you could stop him, Mr.Reyes was already there, hand curled around his arm, fingers digging in and likely leaving bruises. He spat something in his face, only to push him back, exiting onto the stage.

“[y/n]!” He said, voice shrill as he grabbed you by the shoulders. “You haven’t drank from that beaker, right?”

You’re confused, staring him down. “Dude, that’s a prop - I’m not going to-”

“Good! Fuck, I need you to go out there and take the beaker-”

“Jeremy, that’d ruin the show for Christine, I can’t-”

“No, you don’t understand-”

“I’m sorry that some of us care about the show! Seriously, call time was an hour ago and you’re late-”

“[y/n], I wouldn’t-”

You were caught off guard by the sound of Brooke’s voice becoming rougher as she spoke her lines, filled with an newfound passion. You looked back to Jeremy. “What. Did. You. Do.”

He tensed immediately, “I need you to get that beaker.”

You nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He tore away from you. You’d apologize to Christine later, as you crept into the shadows of the curtains, putting on the headset, hearing soft humming.

“Josh?”

He’s immediately quiet, “huhwhat-” and, you assume, scrambling to sit up. “What? You aren’t supposed to be on here-”

“I need a blackout on stage.”

“Uh… it’s not the end of the scene? I mean, I’d do it but I don’t have a death wish right now since my life’s been pretty baller-”

“Fuck, Josh, I need-” The door swung open, and in strolled some nerdy looking guy with glasses and a red hoodie, holding up a bottle of red soda. You nearly snapped at him if it weren’t for the relief that immediately washed over Jeremy. You grew silent as you watched the two talk, Josh questioning everything as you then watched Jeremy go near silent before beginning to attack his friend - Michael, you were pretty sure. You whipped off the headset, tossing it down as you went to try and stop him.

“Jeremy! What the hell-” You managed to say, only to be met with the cold wooden floor seconds later.

He had shoved you away, before he tearing himself away from Michael. “It’s taking over my body,” he said, “I need your help - I’m sorry!”

Michael was immediately after him, managing to somewhat hold him down. He nearly spoke to you if it weren’t for the familiar click of Jake’s crutches - and maybe it was better than he ask Jake, considering how Jeremy flailed against Michael’s grasp and considering you probably wouldn’t have been able to do shit with Jeremy writhing like that.

“Jake! This is gonna sound weird but -” he was cut off for a moment, tightening his grip around Jeremy’s wrist as he struggled, “if I hold down Jeremy, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew Red?” He didn’t wait for an answer before tossing the bottle over to him, immediately returning to the task of keeping Jeremy down.

Jake stared at the bottle, eyes catching a glimpse of you. He looked back to Michael, “actually… that doesn’t sound weird at all.”

Pain overtook him, spiraling through his head as the bottle slipped from his grasp. His head hung low with his face scrunched in pain, before it suddenly evaporated from his features, and he looked up. He felt…

Pretty fucking amazing, honestly.

“Jake?” You said softly, standing as you stepped over. “Are you alright?”

When he looked back up to you, you recognized everything. The familiar, faint circuit pattern you swore you had seen on Rich seemed to disappear within seconds. And he smiled at you, unnerving you completely as he reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“[y/n], I feel boss.” He didn’t stop smiling. Dear god. “No,” he said quickly, “I feel more than that. Here, watch-” He said, throwing down his crutches. You nearly scrambled to pick them up if it weren’t for Jake stopping you. “Don’t. I don’t need them anymore.”

Jeremy piped up softly, staring at the phenomenon before him. “It… healed your legs?”

Jake only chuckled softly, “no! But I can’t feel the pain anymore - it’s awesome!” He smiled, “you could be like this too, y’know. Painless,” he lowered his voice as he looked to you, “happy. [y/n], you could be pretty boss with-”

“What’s wrong with me now?” You said, staring at him.

He seemed at a loss for words for a second. “Nothing! But you could be more-”

“Jake,” you tore away from him slightly, “I’m fine with the way I am. I don’t need,” you motioned toward his head, “whatever you have to change me.”

He seemed rejected. The moment Brooke and Chloe walked in, however, you had stumbled into his arms, scared from the sudden appearance. He didn’t feel content, though. There you were, in his arms, warm underneath his touch, and he didn’t feel as good as he should feel.

The voice in his head snapped at him. Kiss her, was spat into his ear, or... get her the Mountain Dew yourself. She’ll be much happier if you-

Then you were gone, out of his arms as you moved out of the way of everything - trying your best to avoid anything. Everything. You were fucking terrified and it showed in your eyes and in the way your arms were folded too tightly across your chest as you only took in everything that occurred before you. Michael had sprinted out after seeing the bottle resting at Jake’s feet, the pool of red soda hiding in the bottom. When the other four circled around him, you broke out of your spot, shoving past them.

“Michael!” You had cried, arms ending up around him as the two of you fell back. When the group parted around you, you were awkwardly squished against him, both of you completely disheveled. You didn’t notice Jake’s eyes pinned to you, the voice in his head cooing it’s bullshit as it mocked him because look at her, she’s all over Mell - she probably likes Michael because Michael Mell is a loser who likes video games and Michael wasn’t like him-

When Christine walked backstage, she was positively glowing. You went to say something, only to realize there was something so fucking wrong and that wasn’t Christine. She was too rehearsed - as if every step had been laid out in front of her, every motion planned down to the exact millisecond, her smile plastered onto her face as she approached Jeremy. She said something to him, and he just stared in awe. You balled your fists, Michael’s hoodie becoming crumpled in your hands. He reached up, fingers brushing over your arm.

“[y/n], right?” He said softly, “look, fuck, I’m sorry-”

You watched Christine lift the bottle to her lips, drinking. And then she screeched. One right after another - Chloe, then Brooke, then Jake, Mr.Reyes, then Jenna - and finally, Jeremy. And then they all collapsed around you, leaving you and Michael to cling to each other as you two let out a scream.

Well. You two were fucked.

A month later, your friend group had grown from just Christine and a couple other people to include not only Jake and Rich, but the rest of the play’s cast. Jeremy and Michael were giant nerds and you actually had plans to go to a con with them, them maybe also in cosplay if they could pull something together in time. The three of you spent the day sending endless selfies to the group chat of you all in last minute cosplays. At some point you fell asleep in the backseat of Michael’s car, and when you checked the group chat later, found a picture with “she slep” underneath it. You expected to see some sort of comments from anyone else, but only saw a “let her slep” from Christine. You shrugged it off.

At least, you did until Rich was sitting at the end of your bed one day, watching you sew a dress for a Zelda cosplay you’d been planning for months. It was only in the bare bones stage, but he was entranced with your fluid motions. He was supposed to be focused on math homework, pestering you with questions over content if he needed it. Heck, that’s why he was there - you were going to tutor him unless he waved you off, telling you to work on your cosplay and he’ll ask questions if he needs it. But he ended up getting through two problems before he gave up, watching your face as you furrowed your brow, humming softly as you continued to work. Fuck, the amount of concentration you had was adorable.

… Adorable? No. No, you weren’t adorable. Well, you were, but you and Rich were only friends. He liked Jake, didn’t he? Jake was cute and tall and kind of interested in him except neither of them made a move toward each other because… because.

Because Jake was conflicted. Rich didn’t know it, and neither did you, honestly - but Jake often sat between the two of you, his heart aflutter in his chest as he realized almost daily that he was absolutely smitten with the both of you. But he was convinced you didn’t like him - you liked Michael because Michael was kind of a dork and you were kind of a dork and why wouldn’t you like Michael? Michael didn’t try to convince you to change yourself. Michael didn’t try to convince you that you could be better if you took some… weird thing that caused a voice in his head - hell, he still wasn’t sure what happened that day. But he remembered what you told him, burning with anger as you recounted the shit he said to you only to realize that wasn’t him and profusely apologize.

Jake liked you. Jake liked Rich.

Rich liked you. Rich liked Jake.

You liked Jake. You liked Rich.

Fuck.

And there you sat, Rich’s eyes practically burning a hole in your back as you worked, not knowing that you were busy shoving thoughts about how soft his hair looked sometimes and how you kind of wondered what it’d be like to kiss him out of mind. He didn’t know your fingers fumbled and that you sort of ended up nicking your skin - not terrible, but breaking the skin enough that there was a bead of blood as you hissed. You heard the clatter of Rich’s binder hitting the floor, breaking up as he’s beside you within seconds, taking your hand in his own.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, “sorry-”

“Fuck, hold on- where are the band-aids?” He said. You stared at him, before softly chuckling.

“I’ll be fine, Rich. It was just a little nick.”

He stared at your finger, before his eyes met yours after a moment of hesitation, “you sure?”

You couldn’t help but smile - was he worried about you? “I’ll be fine, dude. Unless you wanna kiss it and make it better or some shit,” you laughed softly.

Dear god, did you not know how much he wouldn’t mind doing that? Even as fucking joke, it was probably the closest he’d get to kissing you honestly. He couldn’t fucking help staring at you and wondering what it’d be like to smash his lips against yours and run his hands through your hair or what it’d be like to explore every inch of your skin. His thoughts kept running elsewhere and you chuckled as your attention wandered elsewhere. What were you-

“You should probably clean up your binder, Rich.”

He followed your line of sight, only to find that his math binder had snapped open upon hitting the floor, papers askew. He sort of smiled, the warmth of his fingers leaving yours as he walked over, picking it up and throwing it onto your bed. He carelessly snatched up his papers, not caring whether shit got folded or crumpled as he shoved it all into the open plastic - he’d just fix it later, probably.

“Did you finish your work?” You asked softly, bouncing on your heels. He looked to you, swiftly nodding -which was a lie, but you didn’t know that.

Before you knew it, he shoved his messy folder back into his backpack and left you, making up some excuse about how he needed to get home or whatever. He was gone before you could protest in any form, not giving you a chance to muster up any possible excuse for him to stay a bit longer.

And you had to wonder. What made him leave so quickly?

“So… let me get this straight. You like Rich.”

“Mmhmm.”

“But you also like Jake?”

You turned over, resting on your stomach as you watched Christine look through her closet, trying to find a cute shirt. “... Yeah.”

“Why don’t you tell them that?”

“Christine-”

“No, [y/n],” she said, “tell them that you like both of them?”

“Christiiiine,” you whined, “then I’m gonna ruin everything because they probably don’t even like me or - if they did, I can’t have two boyfriends, can I?”

“Who says you can’t?” She shrugged, pulling out a black shirt with flowers on it. “It’s called polyamory-”

“I know about polyamory,” you cut her off, “but I don’t know about Rich or Jake- I mean, they’d probably laugh at the idea, right?”

She frowned as she looked back to you, “why don’t you just… ask them?”

�� “Christine-”

“Just… try?”

What you didn’t know was that Christine knew. Jake and Rich trusted her enough - and honestly, who didn’t trust Christine? She was an angel and you often considered yourself blessed to be her best friend, honestly. Jake came to her days before you did, mentioning something about how you were cute and vaguely mentioning Rich in the same, love struck way. Rich, on the other hand, had been blunt - asking her for advice straight out only to be told the exact same thing she told you: to talk to both of you.

The situation was this: you definitely weren’t going to make the first move. That means you had to actually mention the idea and kind of confess your feelings for the both of them and essentially make the first move, which was just a thought that absolutely terrified you. Rich wasn’t going to say anything either - more out of the fact he wasn’t sure how to bring up the idea that he’d basically be down for banging both of you (without saying it like that, since he wasn’t sure how you’d take it considering he was... kinda serious about it) without blurting it out. And Jake wasn’t going to say anything, mainly out of the uncertainty about how to bring up the topic at some point.

So that left Christine with the decision that she’d try to push the three of you together, with some help. She may have vaguely mentioned the idea to Jeremy, and eventually managed to convince the rest of the group to get on board with this little scheme. They’d find a way to push the three of you together, since it was beginning to get blatantly obvious that there were mutual feelings between the three of you.

One day, you and Jake and Rich ended up at the mall all at the same time, the rest of the group nowhere to be found. Then one-by-one, texts came in, an excuse given to why the rest of them weren’t there. Sure, it was weird, but Rich won you and Jake stuffed bears out of a claw machine after betting that he could beat the machine, and the three of you ended up getting pretzels so the trip wasn’t a waste at all.

One night you ended up sitting in Jake’s hotel room with both of them, watching some crappy movie. You forgot about the homework due the next day, the impending weight of a test in a few days or weeks, the world outside passing by. For once, you were content. Rich was happy, his head in your lap as you absentmindedly messed with his hair - which was definitely as soft as you thought it would be, honestly, what is his secret? And Jake had rested an arm around you, pulling you closer to him slightly, his other hand resting near Rich’s. You’d barely remember the movie, as you sort of sunk into Jake, his warmth lulling you to sleep. Rich looked up as he noticed you slowing to a stop, your head resting on Jake’s shoulder. He couldn’t lie - he was pretty sleepy too, but the sight of you snoozing away was adorable.

The next morning, you woke up tangled up with Rich and Jake, the awkward imprint of a zipper going down one of your cheeks, and Rich’s arms around your waist and his face pressed against your back. You didn’t want to move - the both of them sleeping soundly. So you didn’t - or at least, you avoided moving as much as you could. You only listened - the rise and fall of Jake’s chest underneath you, his breathing soft and quiet, and Rich at your back, shifting in his sleep, snuggling closer to you. Everything felt tranquil, as if the world wasn’t bustling outside with the business of morning. As if the only three people that existed were you and Jake and Rich. You smiled a little - because, well, that was a thought. Eventually you shut your eyes and somehow managed to realize one thing.

You loved both of them.

The group was conflicted. Because on one hand, the three of you were extremely close and seemed like everything had been resolved and that this was happening. On the other hand, none of you said a word about any of it. No announcement that hey we’re all dating, that’s cool right of any sort, no kisses, nothing that would give anything away. Because, apparently, you three weren’t dating. No matter how much Rich’s hands rested at you and Jake’s hips, sometimes squeezing gently to get any sort of a reaction from the both of you - usually a gentle nudge from you while Jake would become slightly flustered and glance down to Rich. You had the habit of bringing the two of them little things more often than anyone else - setting down one of Rich’s favorite energy drinks in front of him on the days he needed it, or bringing them both coffee and muffins in the morning. Jake would get invested in what you or Rich was doing - plans, current problems, anything and everything.

So then there was a bet. Christine said you weren’t dating officially, and Jeremy sided with her. Jenna had bet that it was just a secret. Michael shrugged and said it hasn’t happened - and after a moment, Brooke agreed. Chloe didn’t bother to look up from her phone, hanging onto every word.

“Why would they hide it from us?”

“I dunno, maybe they’re just nervous-”

“Rich would have blurted it out by now, and [y/n] tells Christine everything.”

“Exactly!”

“[y/n] doesn’t tell me everything. She still has her secrets and I have mine-”

“Christine, we all know that’s bullshit.”

“Oh my god, they’re dating,” Chloe said, breaking the conversation up, “and Jake’s not going to say anything about it yet because this is new to him. Rich respects that, and [y/n] obviously wants to tell Christine but she doesn’t want to ruin everything. Let. It. Go.”

The first time Rich had kissed you was after a convention. You had just gotten back to your house, fumbling with yours keys when he had turned you to face him, smashing his lips against yours. Your keys hit the ground, your hands finding their way into his hair and he tugged you closer to him. It was sloppy and quick, but you didn’t care. Thirty minutes later, you were curled up with your head on his chest and dressed in the softest pajamas, looking up at the phone in his hand as he texted Jake to get his ass over here.

The first time you and Jake kissed was the following morning as the two of you were up before Rich and the house was empty, so breakfast seemed like a good idea. Besides, Jake had bragged enough about his boss cooking skills, it was time to put them to the test. So while Jake searched your fridge for ingredients, you sat on the kitchen island, humming as you watched him. At one point the two of you began making small little comments toward each other, before Jake ended up standing between your legs, forehead against yours. You had closed the distance, pressing your lips against his for a quick, gentle kiss.

A gentle kiss that ended with Jake all but on top of you, hungrily kissing you. Rich swinging into the kitchen was what broke you two up. He chuckled, made some comment as he walked over, getting a quick kiss from Jake - and then another from you - before the three of you teamed up to make breakfast.

And by team up, you and Rich watched Jake make pancakes.

The group found out one day when you had accidentally sent a selfie into the group chat, Rich in the background with a dog that was definitely too big to be called a puppy, captioned with “jake our bf is paying more attention to this puppy than me and i dont blame him” and then a quick “ hurry up and get here before we buy a dog love you” before you shoved your phone in your pocket. You realized your mistake the moment there was a symphony of buzzes and chimes, and you saw literally everyone but Jake or Rich.

“Rich?” You croaked, pulling his attention as your nerves bundled themselves tightly, your hands shaking, “Rich, fuck-”

He was up and to you within seconds, “babe? You alright?” He said softly, only to look to your phone once you held it up. “Wait-”

“Rich, Jake didn’t want us to say anything and I fucked up and texted the group chat and not him a-and he’s going to hate me-”

So Rich did what he could: he called Jake, and within the next hour, the three of you were sitting on the bed in near silence. Phones kept buzzing will calls every so often - Christine being the most predominant of the names that popped up. Jake wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wasn’t mad - you didn’t mean to and he saw how upset you were over the entire thing. Sure, the three of you probably would have waited a lot longer to say anything to the group, but at least that wasn’t a problem anymore, right? That picture of Rich was cute.

Speaking of Rich, he had been the first one to break, checking his phone. After all, everyone could learn to love the real Richard Goranski and his lovers. Instead of happiness or anger, you and Jake were met with Rich’s silence. When you looked, you saw why.

First came a chorus of “i knew it” in varying forms, before then there was the realization that none of you had responded. Then the chat turned to love: Christine beginning with saying she supported you three, and then there was just messages upon messages of how they supported the three of you, that they wouldn’t go parading this around the school because who the fuck would do that, that they’d all be here when you all finally decided to say something.

You had to wonder how you came to have so many people like this in your life. First Christine, who you had years of friendship solidifying your bond stronger than steel. Now you had two boyfriends who you adored more than anything, a constellation of pure love developed between you three as you had nights where you three would just sit around and watch dumb movies and eat pizza while making stupid jokes, or dates around the town where the three of you played Pokemon Go and argued about who’s team was better over lunch. The days where you and Rich would find Jake at work, making jokes about how he worked at Dick’s Sporting Goods (one time of which Jake responded with how Rich is “sporting goods,” which ended that conversation as you laughed and Rich grew flustered) or when you started working at Pinkberry and you had both of them with the rest of the group “bothering” you during work. And dear god, how you loved the rest of the group. They all supported you all, refuting any rumors before they could really take off (especially Jenna and Chloe, the two being extremely fast to stomp out anything before they could really start blazing). The three of you had undying support from them: something you all were grateful for. Heck, you had noticed that Christine had put stars by your, Jake, and Rich’s names. When asked about it, she smiled.

“You guys are a constellation. That’s what poly relationships are called!”

For the first time in months, you realized how loved you were. Jake had pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, arms around your torso. Rich pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips, arms wrapped around you and Jake awkwardly as the three of you laid in near silence, the soft chatter from the TV filling the room.

“Hey... Rich? Jake?” You mumbled, “I love you.”

They had both smiled. “We love you too.”

since people wanted me to mention them:

@love-doesnt-discriminate @fly-like-a-grayson @heatherchandlxrs @linslovelylocks @1two-player-game1

sorry if i forgot anyone!!! this is just based off of the list i have

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