#not because i threw paper airplanes at the teacher but because girl is not doing so poggers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quackeroos · 4 years

Text

paper airplanes | p.parker

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Summary: peter wants to talk to y/n to clarify what he heard, but she avoids him like the plague. (PART 3 of Locker Notes)

Warnings: swearing, break downs

Words: enjoy 5.4k of word vomit

A/n: Sooo I haven’t made a masterlist of this yet which kinda sucks lol. I’m gonna fix it soon, so I’ll let you guys know. Also, I’m planning to release a new Peter Parker x reader mini-series! I haven’t started writing it yet but the plot is already laid out, I just have to start writing it lol. Anywaaaay please leave some comments and your thoughts about this and what you think might happen next. Constructive criticism is also DEEPLY appreciated. ❤️

*gif is not mine

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Dude, you’re staring again.”

Peter whipped his head towards Ned’s direction, awaken from a daze. His face contorts into confusion as he hummed out a reply. “What?”

“You’re staring at her again.” Ned nodded off towards Y/n Toomes, who was peacefully eating her lunch with different kinds of paper and midliners scattered across her table. She was twirling a pen in her hand and was pursing her lips every now and then, struggling to comprehend the formula on her textbook.

Peter kept quiet and slurped his carton of milk, anything to divert his attention from her mannerism. The teenager started observing her after the ‘Parker Therapy’- which was months ago- seeing as she wasn’t really who people thought she was. And now, after the little ‘locker note’ incident, Peter started noticing the little mannerism that she does, and he would be lying if he told himself that he didn’t find her attractive. And after hearing the soft mumble that escaped her lips, Peter was starting to question a lot of things. One of which were how he saw her; friend or… something more?

“Why don’t you just talk to her Peter? I mean, you’ve done it before haven’t you? How hard is it to go and do it again? Just go up to her and say, ‘Hey Y/n, can we talk?’.”

“It’s not that simple, Ned.” He sighed, “It’s hard to communicate with her- she doesn’t open up easily. It took me a while back at the rooftop, so I don’t think I’m gonna get those answers anyway.”

“So, what now dude? Are you gonna just sit here and stare at her like a love-sick puppy?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah definite- wait. A love-sick puppy?”

“Dude, you’re literally crushing on Y/n Toomes! How come you haven’t noticed it yourself?”

Peter shakes his head frantically, afraid of the students that flocked around them who might have heard, and God was he hoping that they didn’t. “Sssshh! Dude! It’s not like that, okay?” It was hard to survive high school with Flash already on his back, and he didn’t want to start another Middle school incident that involved Flash telling everyone that he liked Millie Chapman. And let’s just say, it involved Millie giving him the finger and moving to another city. But did he really like Y/n Toomes? Ned might just be overexaggerating. He liked Liz. Liz, the senior girl who has been nothing but kind to him and Ned since freshman year. Liz who was a dear to everyone and made sure the decathlon team would win every competition. Liz, who was so out of reach. But isn’t that what dates are for? To get to know the person better? Peter chose to believe that.

“I like Liz. I’m still gonna ask her to homecoming.”

Ned gave him the ‘yeah right’ look, not fully believing what he said. “And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

Peter was caught of guard. Dang, he hadn’t decided on that one yet. He always got stuck on being himself and some grand romantic gesture for her. He cringed at the thought. Does Liz even like grand romantic gestures? Peter was stuck in a loop.

“I honestly don’t know, man.”

***

Chemistry period came and half the class were almost dozing off. It was when the doors burst open all the students woke slightly, making them jump in their seats, as well as the teacher. Peter pushed the drawer and hides away his stock of web fluid, attention now at the door.

“Sorry, Sir. The Student Council had an urgent meeting.” Y/n said in heavy breaths. Her forehead was glistening with sweat and her hair was a bit of a mess. She held her books, papers, and binder in one arm. Peter could feel her heartbeat beating loudly from where he was sitting.

“Do you have your permit?” She fished out the piece of paper from her binder and hands it her teacher.

“Alright. You can go ahead and take a seat beside Parker.”

Peter’s ears perked up at the mention of his name. He met her eyes and just how he first saw her, her eyes were unreadable. Everything on the outside was unreadable. But he could feel her heart race faster and louder once he saw him. And he could’ve sworn that he caught her tighten her grip on the books and binder.

Y/n mumbled a silent ‘Thank You.’ and made her way towards his table. Setting down her things and taking the seat beside him. She purposely moved it a bit farther from him and this did not go unnoticed by Peter. He somehow got hurt by this little action, and he didn’t know why.

The teenage boy tried to distract himself from looking at her. It already made him nervous about the thought of bringing up their recent conversation and the fact that she was right beside him was not helping at all. Peter bounced his leg, stared at the board, and tapped his pen against the desk, anything just to distract his unanswered thoughts.

“Stop that.” A voice pulled him away from his mind. His neck craned a bit towards the source. Y/n’s brows were furrowed, and she wore a frown. Her eyes remained on the board as she wrote on her notebook. “It’s fucking annoying.” She mumbled the last so she wouldn’t be heard by the teacher in front.

After her cold warning, Peter kept to himself. He could feel the embarrassment rise to his ears. Great, how exactly am I gonna talk to her now? Peter could only wish they were still on that rooftop, conducting their little Parker Therapy. Back then it was easier to reach out to her, seeing as she was vulnerable and transparent. But the Y/n he was sitting with now? She was this intimidating block of ice who doesn’t have any intention on making contact with him.

Because of her cold exterior, Peter wondered even more about how she came to like him when she doesn’t even show it? Peter had only felt her heartbeat now, but he could’ve sworn he also felt it during their first encounter. He knew Y/n was good at hiding her feelings, so it wasn’t a surprise when he hadn’t notice it right away.

But are his suspicions correct? Does Y/n Toomes like him? He had to know the answers, or else the thoughts would be plaguing his mind for weeks.

The bell rang, and as soon as Mr. Nelson dismissed the class, Y/n shot up from her seat and quickly gathers her things and headed straight for the door. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed that Y/n was avoiding him like the plague.

“Y/n, wait.” He called out and reached for the sleeve of her beige sweater. But it slips from his hand as she tugs it away from him.

“I have to get to class.” She replied blandly and leaves the room.

And with that simple act, it confirmed Peter’s assumption.

***

“Why don’t you just write her a letter again and slip it into her locker like the last time you did with Liz?” his tanned friend suggested, ripping out a piece of paper from one of his notebooks and started folding the corners.

“First of all, you slipped it in her locker. Second, she’ll probably think someone is playing a sick joke on her.” Third, she’ll easily know that it was him

“Then how about you wait for her after school? She always stays late for Student Council and Homecoming planning.”

“I’ll come off looking too weird.”

“Text her?”

“I don’t even have her number!”

Ned huffed, “I don’t know dude. I’m all out of ideas.” He finished folding the paper and threw the plane out of boredom. The paper airplane glided across the classroom and crashed pathetically at the corner of the room. Peter eyed the origami and he lit up at the idea that came into his mind.

“Ned, that’s it!” he jumped up from his seat.

Ned, confused by his sudden outburst, “What did I do?”

And before he could even question his best friend again, Peter was already out the door, his shoes squeaking against the newly polished floor.

***

Y/n Toomes wasn’t a difficult person to find, despite being a busy girl who had a lot on her plate. If Y/n wasn’t at the Student Council room, she would either be in an empty classroom, the rooftop, or the library.

Peter found her at the library.

She was hunched over a book and like the sight from the cafeteria, notes and midliners scattered her table. Nobody dared to sit with her, even though the library only had a few students in it. The librarian walked over to her table and conversed with her for a bit. The girl smiled as she nodded at the old woman and she gladly returned the gesture to her.

Peter found her smile contagious, it also made the corners of his lips tug upwards. God, he felt like creep. Snap out of it Peter! He takes out the paper airplane he made beforehand and smoothing out the wrinkled corners. His head peeks out from the bookshelf and aimed it towards her table. He really hoped this would work. With a deep breath, he throws the paper and quickly hides behind the shelf, taking cover.

The paper glided swiftly across the room and successfully landed on Y/n’s table and immediately caught her attention. Peter watched silently, his heart pounding in anxiety. He couldn’t bear to watch, so he left the room and decided to wait for tomorrow to come. She held the origami in her hand and looked at her surroundings, curious and wary of a possible stalker.

The paper airplane had her name written on it, and she could’ve sworn she had already seen the handwriting before. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that someone threw this at her, it was done on purpose. Her curiosity getting the best of her, Y/n unfolds the paper and reads the scribbled note.

We need to talk. I need to know something, and you have to clear it out for me. If you don’t mind, I wanna do another therapy with you. We can talk at one of our classes together or at the rooftop.

I’ll be waiting, Stranger. ;)

The note crumpled in her hands. Y/n could feel her face become red; either from embarrassment or annoyance, she didn’t know. Hadn’t she made herself clear to him that she didn’t want to interact with him at all? After their conversation at the gates of the school, Y/n wanted nothing more than to disappear from his line of sight, become invisible to Peter Parker and forget about every interaction they made. Even their little “Parker Therapy” that still held a place in her heart and mind.

Peter was the first person she felt comfortable around with in a long time. Sure, Liz’s Mom was a dear, she felt a bit comfortable with her, and she was thankful for her, but she never really felt close to her, despite everything she does just to make her feel at home and loved like how her parents did.

Peter Parker was the first person who felt a bit like home, even though she had only met him personally on that first encounter. God, what has become of her? Getting attached so easily to a guy she barely knew? Y/n had started noticing the little things Peter did during class, lunch and after school. She was everything she thought he would be; a soft nerd with a heart of gold. And it only made her fall for him even more.

What happened to her? She fell into a dark abyss, that’s what.

And in a span of a few months.

Y/n needed to forget about having feelings for him. She realized that as soon as her feelings dawned on her. He was already interested in someone anyway. So why bother with trying to get his attention or confessing? She has too many things to prioritize anyway. And dealing with a broken heart or having any romantic feelings for a softie nerd is not on table. It has to be locked away and thrown to a trench- never to resurface again.

But another problem resurfaces: She was going to have to confront Peter Parker tomorrow.

***

To say that Peter Parker was worried was a little understatement, he was actually terrified. How long has it been since they had that first heart to heart session? Months? Probably. And their last conversation didn’t at all go smoothly. He could still remember her flushed cheeks, her hot tears falling, and her hiccups. And deep inside Peter he felt hurt seeing her like that. Why though? Was it because she was crying or because he was guilty?

Why the hell would I be guilty? Peter was confusing himself even more.

He was pulled away from his thoughts when he saw Liz walk through the halls. She was beautiful, and Peter couldn’t tell himself to stop staring. They briefly made eye contact and she smiled at him, making his heart go thump thump thump. Peter woke again from his daze when he saw Y/n following behind her cousin. She wore a yellow-knitted sweater, mom jeans, and a pair of white Converses that were a little bit worn out. He saw that same style on countless of girls he would pass by, it was ordinary. But why did she stuck out of the hundred of students that were passing by?

Her eyes flick towards him and he held the eye contact. There was something unreadable in her eyes but he could hear the familiar beats he heard yesterday. Gradually increasing in pace as they held the eye contact even longer, and Peter could feel his own heart beating too. Y/n gave him a sullen glance before walking away in a much faster pace. Peter stood there, feeling his heart.

What was happening to him?

Y/n dumps all her textbooks inside her locker then takes out her notebooks and other things needed for the day. She could feel the little organ inside her rib cage jump up and down in excitement. She placed her hand to calm it down- and it helped, but just a tiny bit. Why was he staring? Why the hell was he staring? Secretly, she peeks from the door of her locker, just to make sure if he was still there.

He was, and Peter was also looking.

The slam of her door made the passerby students and the ones beside her jumping at the sudden sound. Y/n walked fast, not caring if she were to bump in some students every now and then. She had to get away from Peter Parker. There was no way in hell she was going to have that conversation with him.

Y/n found herself at peace in English class. Sure, the teacher was a like a fly when discussing the lesson and it kinda bored her classmates out because of the pieces of literature and the constant discussion on proper grammar, but Y/n enjoyed it. Chemistry and English were her fortes, besides being (a little bit) bossy. She was about to take a short nap, after not getting any no thanks to the paper airplane she received yesterday. The lesson was easy after all, and Kevin Mullan, who was twice her size, was perfect coverage for her nap session.

She was about to lay her head on her desk when something pointy poked her arm and landed on her desk. It was another paper airplane. In her head, Y/n was screaming fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! While on the outside she was staring at the folded paper like a bomb waiting to explode. Her eyes calmly searched the room for a familiar mop of brown hair and puppy-like eyes. Lo and behold, there he was, Peter Parker, who was sitting at the farthest seat with a sheepish smile and an awkward wave.

Since when did he take this class?

Her sleep-deprived state wasn’t helping her at all. She was starting to forget the littlest things to avoid him at all cost. Peter had more than one classes with her this year compared to last year.

His face egged her to unfold the paper airplane, and slowly she did.

Did you get the other one? I really have to talk to you. There are some things on my mind and you’re the only one who can answer them. It’ll just be another Parker Therapy, so it’ll just be the two of us. What do you say, Stranger?

She turned to him and finds that he had been looking at her the whole time with an expectant look on his face, his knee bobbing up and down, and his habit of playing with his pen. He only did that when he was anxious about something.

Deep inside, Y/n wanted nothing more than to go up on that rooftop with him and spend the rest of the day talking more about their experiences and relating to each other. But she knew what she had to do, or else it would be even harder to forget about the feelings that were building up.

And so, she writes down her response, crumples the piece of paper and throws it back to Peter, who had easily caught it even though he had been taking notes. Y/n didn’t wait for his reaction, so she turns back towards the front and laid her head on her palm and started to doze off.

No. That was a one-time thing, I’m not doing that again. And stop calling me with that nickname. It pisses me off.

Peter gulped and the slightly threatening note. He could hear her menacing tone and the icy spit by just reading her response. He kind of expected it though, like last time. She wasn’t an easy egg to crack, so it was going to take a lot more than just two paper airplanes to get the response he wanted. Peter was sure he was gonna get more than just spiteful words coming out of her mouth after this.

She felt another poke on her left arm, and the familiar texture of paper resting above it. Y/n’s head was starting to boil. And not getting desired sleep plus Peter Parker’s constant letter sending was surely to drive her to her wits’ end.

I’m not gonna stop sending these if you don’t say yes. :)

God how she hated him. Her eye twitched while reading the taunting note. The smiley face at the end almost look like it was laughing at her vexation. Who was he to think he can do this to her? They weren’t friends, not even acquaintances. They just happen hit it off at the rooftop and know a little more about each other than other people who surrounded them.

What the fuck do you want from me, Parker?

Again, like before, she crumpled the paper and threw it to his desk a little bit more harshly, and he had caught it perfectly, with a smug little smirk dancing on his lips. All the more reason for Y/n to get pissed off. This little shit! Peter knew he was really gonna get it this time. The nerve that appeared on her forehead said so and how she was now harshly writing on her notebook, tearing it, and crumpling it into a ball. It was too late for him too notice the incoming paper, and this time - it had already hit him in the face.

“Ms. Toomes!” the teacher yelled.

Her voice boomed throughout the classroom, catching the attention of everyone. Peter winced at the sound of her shrill voice and the pain on his nose that he was sure would leave a small mark. What was in that paper? Rocks? he rubbed the sore spot.

“I didn’t start this, Ms. Warren!” Y/n’s voice loomed over the now silent room. “Parker was passing notes during the discussion.”

Ms. Warren raised an accusatory brow. “And what was in the paper?”

Her lips sealed shut and stared silently at the adult. She didn’t want to tell the whole class what Peter was up to, but she wanted him to finally stop. Should she tell her? “Go on, tell us. What was in the paper that had you two throwing it back and forth?” the teacher pressed. She could feel his anxious stare drilling at the back of her head while Peter waited for a reply.

“N-nothing, Ms. Warren.” she mumbled quietly in shame.

The teacher didn’t say anything, instead, she takes the pink pad from her table, takes her pen, and gives the pink slip to her. Repeating the action, she gives one to Peter also. He didn’t protest, just silently took the paper and bowed his head in shame. Y/n was the first one out of the door, pushing through the doors to get to detention before he does.

Upon entering the room, Peter already sees her sitting at the farthest corner of the room with her head laid down, hair covering her face like a curtain. He felt guilty, partly because he was the main of cause of both of them getting detention. He noticed it before, that dark circles were under her eyes and the vibe she would give off when entering school was a little off. Peter can notice a stressed-out person when he sees one, and Y/n was in fact under the weight of it all. The guilt added more. I’m a horrible and selfish person.

Once Mr. Dell excused himself to go to the restroom, Peter moved to the seat beside her. He leaned close, close enough to hear her soft snores (which Peter found adorable) and smell her signature scent, which smelled heavenly. He carefully places the bottle of raspberry iced tea and the breakfast sandwich he had bought from Delmar’s on the way to school. There was barely any space left on her table, so Peter tried his best sneaking it inside her backpack without disturbing Y/n from her peaceful state. She shifted in her seat, and her hair uncovered half of her face. Peter froze at her sudden motion and studied her for a moment before proceeding to place the food.

Y/n felt something move in her bag, either there was something inside of it or someone was stealing something from her. She stirred awake, eyes slowly opening, and a wave of soft brown tufts greeted her. She knew that wavy lock very well, and the signature scent that she had become hooked on. A part of her wanted to jolt up and make him back away, at least until after detention. But the other part was just keeping her, to just stay, pretend to sleep and maybe he’ll go away on his own. And whatever it was that he was putting inside her bag, she can throw it out any time.

And so, Y/n stayed.

The shuffling in her bag stopped, but his presence was still near. She wanted to open her eyes a little, just to take a peek if Peter had gone back to his original seat. But the hair in her eye made it difficult to do so and it was starting to itch her eyelids. She badly wanted to scratch it away. Planning to just go ahead and do it (he won’t even notice she’s awake anyway if her eyes are closed) she scratched away the itch, which relieved her for a bit, only for the sensation to come back. Y/n flinched when she felt her strand of hair move away from her eyes, and it caused her eyes to open.

She had expected Peter was the one in front of her, what she didn’t expect though was how close he was to her face. Close enough for her to see his freckles scatter on his face like stars that could be connected and make out constellations, see every strand of eyelash that she could count if she wanted, and the pools of chocolate brown.

The same thing could be said for Peter. He didn’t know what drew him in to do what he did and lean in closer to observe her features. It was the first time he was examining Y/n’s features up close. His palms became sweaty, and he gulped at the proximity. Was he supposed to be this close? Her scent became intoxicating the closer her got and he was starting to get addicted to the smell of old books and a bit of jasmine

Realization dawned upon them as soon as they felt each other’s breath on their skin. Y/n jumped away from seat and had her back on the wall, Peter moving a seat away from hers with eyes blown wide at the sudden shock. Both teenagers were flustered, hearts pounding and heat rushing up to their faces.

“What the hell were you doing?!” she screamed at him.

“I-I uhm...” he started pathetically. “I wanted to give you some snacks? You look like you haven’t eaten breakfast or slept, so- so I just thought I’d give you mine. I’m not even that hungry anyway, and I ate some cereal before I left. I mean oatmeal! Not cereal, ‘coz ah-uhm... Never mind. A-And I noticed you were scratching your eye, so I moved your hair out of the way so you could sleep better, and you kind of just... woke up.”

Y/n frowned. “That still doesn’t explain why you were literally inches away from my face, Parker.”

Because I wanted to look at you. “Uhmm.. I-I was there because.. I-”

“You know what, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical. Just keep yourself on the other side of the classroom.” She zips her bag open, removing the contents Peter had placed inside. “And I’m not some charity case, so you can just go ahead and keep your food.” She slings her bag on her shoulder and moved three rows ahead of her previous seat. Hopefully the distance she placed was already clear to Peter that she doesn’t want him near her. But Peter only moves more, but just a row behind her so that he wouldn’t overstep the imaginary boundary she had placed for herself.

“There’s also something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.” He started expectantly. “We can keep this to ourselves, so you don’t have to-”

“Whatever it is, Parker, I don’t want to answer it okay?”she cut him off easily. “ If it’s about Liz, you can go ahead and talk to Betty about that. If it’s something related to homecoming, approach anyone from the committee. If you want to talk about putting the both of us here in detention, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“It’s about you, actually.” he spoke softly. He hoped that saying this, it might intrigue her into talking to him. Openly, just how things were at the rooftop. “I didn’t mean to hear it, but I did. And... And it kind of- confused me? I wasn’t even sure if I heard it right but-”

“Peter, I really don’t wanna talk to you right now.” She exhaled tiredly. He was taken aback by her sudden change in tone, the change in the air, and the way he said his name. That was the first time he heard her say his name. “I know you’re trying to get me to open up to you just like in the rooftop, and that you have a lot of questions regarding me. But I really don’t want to, okay. I’m tired, and I’m hurting.” Physically and Emotionally, she thought.

“Can you just... go back to how you were before we had that talk? Go back to being Peter Parker who knew me as Liz’s cousin, co-head for the homecoming committee, student council member, and the bossy foul-mouth sophomore, just like how everybody does. Just... give me the peace of mind, okay. I’m stressed, I’m tired, I’m drained and everything in my body hurts, and I just can’t deal with you.”

Y/n panted once she burst it out. It was only half of the thoughts that kept her awake, but she figured it was enough information for him to know. She didn’t want to give out that she liked him, that she needed to keep her distance, or that she was hurting because of him.

Peter stared at her dumbfounded. Had she always been super stressed out? Was he so caught up on knowing the truth that he hadn’t notice Y/n was already about to explode? He tried piecing everything together, he hadn’t fully understood everything that she said. The only thing he had caught on was that she was tired, in pain, and she doesn’t want to deal with him. That she doesn’t want to talk to him. Is this her closing herself off or was all the exhaustion finally hitting her and Peter had just set her off? He felt the guilt weigh down on his chest and he did not like the feeling.

The ringing off the bell cut through the silence, and the heavy tension in the air went away. Mr. Dell hadn’t come back from his trip to the restroom (Peter assumed he went for number two). It was time for them to go to their next class, and Y/n took it upon herself to go and leave the room.

“Whatever it is you plan on asking me, just forget about it, okay?” she lets out a tired sigh. “What you heard about me, what you heard me saying, or anything, drop it. I don’t really care how people look at me now, what they think of me, or what they think they know about me. Because honestly, I’m tired of everything, and I just want to finish this school year.” She took her bag and left the room, running into Mr. Dell, who had just returned from the restroom. Y/n acknowledged him before leaving the detention room and went on her way to her next class.

“Aren’t you leaving, Parker? You’ll be late for class.” Mr. Dell called out to him snapping him away from his thoughts. He fumbled with his response and quickly exits the room.

Everything was a blur for the rest of the day. He saw her every now and then in the hallway and in lunch, but she would avoid his gaze and look on straight ahead. The stress was still clear on her face and body language, but she held her head high all throughout the day and managed to fool the people around her. Everyone but Peter. That was the thing he had acquired after seeing Y/n vulnerable two times.. And he knew that she was keeping everything together just to get the day done.

By the time Peter got home, he was alone. Aunt May was still at work and would be a little late than usual because of workload, so he was all alone with his thoughts. He was deeply confused. He didn’t get the answers he was hoping for, but something tells him that she had left crumbs in the middle of her sentences. He was piecing it together, but he couldn’t. Girls were hard to understand, he couldn’t grasp anything Y/n was trying to say, and it frustrated him not knowing anything. God, how he wished May was here to help him understand.

He eventually became tired and wanted to just forget everything. Maybe then he wouldn’t be overthinking everything. Peter went out for patrol to clear his head. It eventually worked, but that was until he saw the familiar yellow sweater walking just below him. Y/n was walking down the street, with bags that held different kinds of arts materials for Homecoming. He couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes. She stopped by a black car and opened the back door, loading all of her purchases. Before getting in she looked around warily. Peter could tell that she must’ve sensed him watching her. Luckily enough, she didn’t look his way and went inside the car, driving out their parking and going home.

Peter got back to his apartment and May was already home, cooking up meatloaf. He changes back into his clothes and went out to join his aunt for dinner. He ate, he did a bit of his homework, brushed his teeth and went to bed. It took him a while to finally get some shut eye, and once he did, he dreamed of getting lost again in pools of familiar e/c eyes and the smell of old books and jasmine on a rainy day.

Peter slept with a warm feeling in his heart despite his troubled mind about the girl in the yellow sweater.

enjoyed this story? let’s talk about it!

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add yourself to my taglist!

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker x you #peter parker angst #spiderman #Spiderman: Homecoming #spiderman x reader #spider man homecoming #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker gif #peter parker series #ari's works #locker notes #locker notes by quackeroos

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rankdisasster · 5 years

Text

punch-drunk love

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“dUDE drunken confessions are my favorite trope!!!! I can so imagine a post-starcourt billy au with a reader who maybe was his friend beforehand but they never really acted on their feelings. the reader gets a phone call at like 2am and billy's just like "listen,,remember all those hours we spent in detention with mr kaminsky? I would do it all again if it meant just sitting beside you because sometimes I look at you and I just see goddamn gold. are you sure you're literally not the sun??" requested by anonymous.

word count: 2,454

warning(s): swearing, drinking

a/n: HECK YEAH MAN I wrote this shit up in like two hours, and I’d even be open to continuing it to like a part two if anyone wanted. drunk Billy in fics is always angsty and mean, but I wanted him goofy and soft!! thank you for adding cute ideas to the drunk call trope <3

—

Billy huffs as he clumsily grabs the next bottle and unscrews the lid with his teeth, spitting it out on the ground carelessly and taking a good chug. It quit burning his throat as it went down a while ago, and now he just feels the weight on his shoulders finally give out. His body wiggles as he tries to stand up from the couch he’d been surfing the whole night, and he gives a lighthearted chuckle to himself at the pleasant buzz flowing. It’s getting to that point of his binge drinking where mistakes are going to be made. He has a persistent urge to break the rules, to do something he’s never had the courage of doing sober.

After no thinking at all, because who the fuck needs a brain when you’ve got booze, he picks up the phone and dials a number he’s sure as shit hasn’t forgotten and will never forget. A smirk plays on Billy’s face, a cocky, shit-eating grin that spreads like he’s the goddamn Grinch and even shows the whites of his teeth while twirling the telephone wire similar to a schoolgirl calling their crush. It rings for about thirty seconds, until he’s hung up on and directed to voicemail.

“Fuck! Don’t be a fuckin’ drag, Y/N. C’mon,” he whines as he kicks the cabinet by his knees, then hangs up and spins the rotary dial to yours again. He licks his upper lip deviously and takes a sip from the bottle he had opened, and waits for your sweet voice on the line again. All hope is lost when there is no answer once more, so he just curses and nearly chucks the phone out of desperation. Billy also thinks of leaving another voicemail this time around except more lengthy and demanding, something to grab your attention and make you talk to him again. That’s all he wants, after all. It’s been months since he’d even seen your pretty face sitting in the desks sideways, and he regrets not kissing the smile you always wore when he had you right there in front of him in detention every week.

Before getting to know you he’d settle for trying to make you laugh in the bleak silence of Mr. Kaminsky’s classroom, attempting to balance a spoon on his nose or throwing paper airplanes your way. Billy figured you were just laughing at his antics out of politeness but didn’t care to actually speak to him, that is until you threw a crumbled piece of paper at him one sunny day in regular boring shitsville of Kaminsky’s. It took him by surprise, considering it flew right to his face while he was zoning out, and he reacted by flailing in embarrassment before exclaiming a defensive “WHAT THE HELL?”. It was the most unique companionship the boy had ever had that followed after your laughing and pointing a finger at him. He had to give it to you, it was pretty funny. When he recovered from your attack, he shook his head with a small grin as he unwrapped your note, reading “heads up” in that adorable sloppy handwriting.

After that, the rest is pretty much history. Billy was hooked to goofing around with you more often, and you both always made it a point to get in trouble just to spend time together in detention. Considering this wasn’t hard at all for the blonde boy, getting into fights with guys or taunting the girls, even falling asleep mid-lecture, detention was another place to call home. You, however, chose how and when you got caught.

Billy never really did gather up the courage to say what he was thinking about day or night, how pretty he thinks you truly are and that you don’t even know it, which makes it that much more special. Not to mention the countless numbers he’d done howling with laughter at a comment you made, feeling like he just got a workout after laughing so much. He never got to tell you that those moments are all he’d look forward to day in and day out. That if his dad smacked him around if he misbehaved the slightest bit at home, or if teachers were ruthless and judgemental in every class, then he could take all that. He could take the whooping and the ass beatings and the name calling, if it meant he got to spend two hours fucking around in detention staring at you. A place where nothing is supposed to happen, and no one interesting usually attends.

Billy’s made progress gulping half his bottle, now picking at a protein bar from the kitchen, trying and failing to open the impossible wrapper. He almost decided on just eating the whole damn thing, fuck the wrapper, until the obnoxious blaring of the telephone rings. He’s quick to react, as drunk as he is, and tosses the snack he planned to scarf down before tripping to get to the phone. He picks up and holds it to his ear.

“Hello?”

There it is, that voice again.

“Heeeey. Hey there, little miss thing. It’s Billy Boy,” he draws out each word, trying to sound suave even if he hiccuped a little when he greeted you. Copying the same movements he did when he first tried ringing you up, he tangled the wire between his fingers and stared at the table dreamily, imagining you in your comfy clothes. Smiling and cozy.

“Woah, uh, hey Billy. It’s been a little while, what’re you up to calling this late?” you inquire over the phone, and he pictures you rubbing your eyes before stretching and yawning and he just wishes so bad that he got to see that madness.

“Mm, no no no. I’m curious about what you’re doin’,” he replies suggestively, smacking his tongue in his mouth.

“What? I’m sleeping, dude. I’m all for this reuniting thing, but could’ya please just have waited ‘til morning like a normal human being?” you say, growing a little frustrated at the randomness of the call and his ambiguous intentions.

“No Y/N! It’s top secret stuff, believe me. Fucking important that I call you now, at,” he bends over backwards to check the clock that glows on the microwave, “two fifteen in the morning. We never just talk like we used to, y’know since we graduated and all,” Billy complains like a petulant child, not hiding it in his voice that he’s pouting.

There’s a second of silence, and he slurs out your name to see if you rudely hung up on him again, until you speak.

“Are you calling me drunk?”

“Nuh-uh, silly goose. I never said that you were drunk,” he snorts, having to regain his balance after getting too excited and almost falling over with the phone still tucked in his right shoulder. He hears a long sigh being let out on the other end.

“Oh for fucks sake—“

“You always get so mad when you’re cute, d’you know that? Wait. I mean, fuck, lemme try that again,” the boy squints and puts his fingers on his temple to try to focus. “You’re really hot when you’re mad. There. Nailed it,” he finishes.

“Oh my gosh, you poor thing. Dude, you’re shit faced,” you crack up. “This is gonna be even funnier in a few hours. Not for you, I mean, you’ll probably have a killer hangover, but I for one am enjoying this.”

“Oh yeah? You like it, don’tcha cutie pie?”

“Sure do. Tell me more, Casanova.”

“Mmm yeah, I’ll tell you more. Right after you tell me what you’re wearing,” he chews on his lip, thinking that this is all going perfectly to plan. You double take, then decide to play along just for shits and giggles.

“Okay, you asked for it. I have my old Hawkins High gym t-shirt on, and some Spider-Man sweats on too. Oh, also some slippers, because the floor is cold,” you finish, hoping he’s satisfied.

“Noooo, c’mon. Fuckin’ lame-o. I wanna know what’s underneath,” he whines after not getting the kind of answer he wanted to get. Getting horny was always a given when he had a couple drinks, but what with having absolutely no filter and you right there on the phone, he’s getting irresistibly antsy. Wishing you were right next to him, so he could claw at your clothes and whisper his dirty thoughts into your neck.

“Fat chance there, hot-shot. What was it you were saying before? Oh yeah, about how I’m awesome and beautiful. Wanna keep goin’?”

“Ugh. Fine. If y’like lame sweet talk, then listen up, sweet cheeks. Remember all those long hours in Kaminsky’s? That old man would bitch at me for breathing, and like, existing. So, like the fuckin’ moron he is and the fuckin’ nuisance I am, I would get assigned to be there every day. I coulda ditched lots of times, just sneak through the window if he turned his bald head around or somethin’. But I never did. ‘Cuzza you. In fact, I’d do it all over again. Wanna know why?”

Billy’s now crashed into the nearest chair by the island in the kitchen, staring up at the ceiling and itching his crotch like the drunken mess of a boy he is. The clock on the microwave now glows the numbers 2:28 AM.

You’ve been stunned to silence, not quite knowing whether to laugh anymore or take what he’s saying truthfully or with a grain of salt. They always say that after someone’s had a few, that those are the times they spout about what’s really on their mind all the time.

“I-I don’t know about this, Billy.”

“Nope! Try again,” he giggles, putting the phone in a comfy spot nestled by his ear as his clumsy hands struggle to unbutton his shirt more for better comfort.

“...Cause of, cause of me?” you peep, unsure of yourself.

“Ding ding ding! Give the pretty girl a prize!” he claps his hands when they’ve fully undone the confines of his t-shirt, then laying back and sinking impossible further into the chair. He reaches for the bottle that has yet to be finished, and licks his lips as he realizes how thirsty he is for more.

“Billy don’t — stop it. Stop drinking, I can hear you. You’ve had enough,” you calmly advise, growing more nervous at the heavy weight this whole conversation has thrown at you. Since when did Billy feel this way?

“Aww, takin’ care a me. Such a sweetheart,” he marvels, blushing but keeping the bottle in his grasp. “You wanna know somethin’ else?”

“No, I don’t think I do. Not until we can discuss this when you haven’t been drinking.”

Billy chooses to ignore that and goes on.

“I’d just — when I looked at you, in detention, where we were like a thousand percent of the time together, I just. Can’t help but see goddamn gold. You’re the goddamn sun, you know that? I’m talking to the sun right now,” Billy suddenly wants to be held and nurtured, feeling tears well up in his eyes and his nose begin running funny. He doesn’t feel so good anymore.

Things are quiet on your end. Billy doesn’t know what your silence means, but it doesn’t seem too good.

“Y/N? When you looked at me, d-did you ever like, feel the same way? Look at me like that? Like I’m the sun?” he asks, desperate for your validation and then sniffled as the tears now started running down his cheeks in waves. He’s a hot mess.

“Billy... you never talked to me outside of detention. Like I didn’t exist, or I wasn’t cool enough to hang out anywhere else. I never knew...” you trailed off, trying to fight off your own tears and the overwhelming feeling his confession had given you.

“Y-You were so cool, I woulda hung out with you more if I wasn’t such a fucking bastard, or such a goddamn coward. But I miss you, and I wanna kiss you everywhere and I wish you could hold me all th’time,” his self pitying erupts to sobs as he finally lets go of the bottle that he clutched between his hands. It rolls into the floor, thankfully not breaking on the way down, but the contents begin leaking out onto the rug. Billy has yet to notice, still fumbling over his words and thoughts. He regrets getting this blasted now.

“Billy?”

“Hmm?” he mumbles, still not quite over himself as he hugs his bare chest, shirt still remaining open.

“Of course I looked at you like were the sun. Anybody who didn’t, like Kaminsky, or your fake asshole friends, they all don’t matter, okay? Please let me know if you’re hurting. Have you been home alone drinking?”

“Yeah, I have. And, and’ya really actually mean it? That stuff you said?”

“I would never lie to you. I’m really tired, and I’m so sorry for doing this to you, but I have to get back to bed,” you say, reluctantance in your tone as you sigh prettily in his ear once more.

“I’m gonna, I’m sleepy too. Real sleepy. Talk soon?” Billy asks, sounding about as hopeful as a child on Christmas Eve.

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

“Mmmkay. G’bye, pretty girl.”

You let out a breathy laugh at that, then say your farewell, advising him to drink a glass of water and take an Advil before hanging up. The blonde drunk is absolutely exhausted, the whirlwind of emotions that you and the alcohol had put him through had knocked the boy right out. He face plants into the cushions of the couch for a minute, getting close to sleep until a sudden twinge in his gut pulls him up awake. He then makes a run for the bathroom, slipping on the spilled booze on the floor from earlier, and barely makes it in time. He pukes up all the drinks he had for a good five minutes, heaving sickly into the bowl and helplessly clawing at the toilet seat for a better grasp.

Once he’s sure that he has nothing left in his stomach to give, he sits up and scoots to the wall for support, wiping his mouth and hissing in disgust at the bitter taste it left. He gets comfortable even in an odd position, sitting up with his back against the wall right next to the toilet, and decides that this is where he’ll sleep for tonight. As Billy yearns for a much needed deep drunk sleep, he mumbles to himself under his breath about Y/N and her smile and the sun.

—

edit: there will be a sequel, writings in progress ! do not panic I swear this isn’t supposed to end bleak and depressing, I just wanted to show Billy being a hot mess. at first I kinda thought oooh this ending’s fine, if ppl want a sequel ig ill do it, but after reading it over myself I kinda went “the fuck?? this boy deserves to be happy” so I'm gonna do it. if anyone wants a tag as usual, just let me know ! & thank you for the sweet comments and reblogging, I can't be more thankful:)

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine

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notalwaysthevillian · 4 years

Text

A Different Side of Hogwarts

Warnings: Deceit, manipulative family members, crying, panic attacks

Word Count: ~2k

Pairings: Platonic LAMP at the moment

Masterlist

Chapter 23 | Chapter 25

Chapter 24

After the fiasco that was Patton’s Christmas gift, the four boys started to hang out once more. Roman did still hang out with the boys from his house, but now he’d let them know first.

One snowy day, the four of them were hanging out in the library. Patton was watching the flurries go by outside the window, while Virgil sat curled up next to him, doing his best to nap. Logan was reading a book about spells on the nearby bench, telling Roman about some of the spells he might enjoy, as well as some of the sillier ones.

“There you are.”

Virgil snapped awake in an instant, eyes landing on his least favorite brother. Patton could feel Virgil trembling ever so slightly and shifted to hide him a little better.

“Is there a reason you’re bothering us, Devin?” Logan asked, a bored look on his face. “Calypso can see us, so anything you try to pull will be nixed immediately.”

Devin threw a scowl Logan’s way. “If I really wanted to do anything, I know how to distract teachers. And I’m not here for any of you. I’m here to deliver a message to Virgil.”

“Fro-from who?” Virgil cursed his voice for shaking.

“From Nana.” Devin said sweetly, his smile growing when Virgil froze in place. “She noticed that you hadn’t hung up her Christmas gift yet. After all, it took a lot of time and money to get her portrait done.”

“I -”

“Better do it soon, before she comes for a visit.”

With his message delivered, Devin turned and left the library.

Logan moved to kneel in front of Virgil, taking note of his accelerated breathing. “Virge, squeeze my hands if you can hear me.”

There was a tight squeeze on Logan’s hands, even though Virgil’s eyes were slightly unfocused.

“Okay, I’m going to tap a rhythm on your wrists. Try your best to breathe with it, okay?”

Logan started tapping a 4-7-8 rhythm. It took a few minutes, but Virgil started calming down. The others could see his eyes refocusing, filling with tears. He threw himself into Patton’s arms, soaking his robes in an instant.

“It’s okay.” Patton said, rubbing Virgil’s back in small circles. “We’re here, V. We’ve got you.”

Roman hovered off to the side, unsure of what to do. “Should I get his brother?”

“No!” Virgil cried out, loud enough to attract the attention of Calypso.

She looked up from the desk with an irritated look before she realized what was going on. With a flick of her wand, a small paper airplane landed on Logan’s shoulder.

Do you need help?

Logan looked back and shook his head, grateful that the teachers were respectful of Virgil’s anxiety issues.

“Virge, I didn’t mean - I meant Preston, not that snake-faced liar.” Roman explained, anger building inside of him. He wanted Devin to pay for making Virgil cry. “I can get him, but only if you want me to.”

“No.” Virgil choked out, much calmer now that he knew what Roman meant. “He - he doesn’t need to be here. He’ll just worry.”

“He’s your brother, that’s how they’re supposed to act.” Logan backed away slightly from the Hufflepuffs. Virgil needed some space to breathe. “Remy might be annoying, but if he was upset I’d want to know.”

“I doubt he’d know what to do either.”

Logan’s mind whirred as he thought back to what Devin had said. The other three looked up when Logan face-palmed. “I’m such an idiot. Virgil, your grandmother gave you a portrait of herself. I’m assuming she means to keep an eye on you through it?”

Tears burned in Virgil’s eyes again, but he nodded. “If she finds out I’m still friends with you guys...she’ll disown my dad. He only got his job at the ministry because of her and I’m scared that she might do something to get him fired.”

“That witch.” Three heads whipped toward Patton, shocked to see how mad he was. “I can’t believe that she’d be so manipulative. You’re supposed to love your family, not...UGH!”

“Shh!”

“Perhaps we should move this to one of our rooms?” Logan asked, giving Calypso an apologetic look. “Probably not your room, though I don’t know how much the portrait can hear if it’s not hung up.”

Roman let out a sigh. “We can go to my room. The other guys won’t be there anyway, they’re taking extra flying lessons so they have a better chance at being on the team next year.”

The four of them left the library and headed up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Virgil clung to Patton the entire time, jumping at the slightest noises.

It hurt Patton’s heart to see his best friend like this. How could a family member be so awful? Sure, sometimes he fought with his sisters, but they apologized and made up fairly quickly.

The Fat Lady looked at them as they walked up, her face morphing into a motherly look as she laid her eyes on Virgil. “Are you alright, young man?”

He nodded, staring at the floor.

“We’re working on it.” Roman told her. “Skiving Snackbox.”

The portrait swung open, revealing the common room.

Patton didn’t seem fazed as they climbed through, but Virgil and Logan were taking it all in. Neither of them had been here before.

A roaring fire warmed the room, as well as adding some light. Two armchairs and a large couch made that section of the room one for studying or sleeping. Logan rolled his eyes as he noticed his brother lying across the entire couch, snoring away.

On the other side of the room, there were a few tables shoved up against the wall. Logan suspected they’d normally be out for study, but currently they’d been moved to allow room for a few games. He spotted wizard’s chess and gobstones, but there were a few he didn’t recognize.

“Who brought in Ticket to Ride?” Roman asked one of the players.

They nodded toward one of the girls playing gobstones. “Zoe did. Muggles have some fun games.”

Before Roman could get sucked into a conversation, Patton pulled him toward the back of the room. There was a set of stairs that neither Logan nor Virgil had noticed. “Come on, Ro. We need to figure this out.”

“What are we figuring out, exactly?” Virgil asked as they made their way to Roman’s room.

“How to keep hanging out, but not make your Nana mad.”

“Pat -”

Virgil was cut off as Patton spun to face him, a look of determination on his face. “Virge, we’re your friends. We’re going to help you with this.”

“But -”

“You don’t think you’re worth it.”

A silence fell over the group as Virgil looked to the floor, confirming Logan’s deduction.

Of the three, Roman was the first to speak up. “Virgil, you are worth it. I’m sorry if I made it seem like you weren’t. If any of us did.”

“I forgive you.” Virgil said, choking on the last word.

Patton quickly brought them up to Roman’s room. Once Roman was sure that no one was inside, he shut the door and locked it.

“No one will be bothering us for a while. And if they do, we’ll at least have a second before they come barging in.”

“What do we do?” Virgil asked, his breathing becoming rapid once more. Patton grabbed his hand and tried rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “If Nana finds out…”

“She won’t.” Logan and Roman said in unison.

It was the first time they’d ever truly agreed on something. But as they looked at each other, they knew they were right. They’d do anything to make sure that Nana wouldn’t find out.

“How?” Virgil croaked out, feeling a lump swell in his throat.

Patton switched to rubbing circles to throwing his arms around Virgil instead. Virgil leaned into the embrace.

“We don’t have to hang out in your room.” Logan said, gears whirring in his mind.

“There’s plenty of other places.” Roman chimed in, working off of what Logan was thinking. “Either tower would welcome you guys in, since you’re not Slytherin.”

“If we choose other places -”

“-she won’t find out.”

Drying his tears, Virgil nodded. “If I have to put that portrait up, then I don’t wanna be in there any more than I have to.”

Over the next hour, the four of them made a list of multiple different places they could hang out that wasn’t Virgil and Patton’s room. The length of the list allowed Virgil to relax, even if it was only slightly.

“There’s still one question I have.” Logan said as he rolled up the parchment. “Why hasn’t Devin told her that you’re still hanging out with us? It doesn’t make sense for him to keep it to himself.”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m sure he has something planned.”

“Virgil, why don’t we head back to our room?” Patton said, shooting a stern look at Logan. “If you want, I can hang up the portrait so you don’t have to look at it.”

“No, I should do it.”

As the two Hufflepuffs left, Logan frowned. “What did I say?”

“Virgil is clearly not on good terms with his brother. Bringing him up probably wasn’t the best idea.” Roman was laying upside down on his bed, twirling his wand around his fingers.

“But doesn’t he want to know why?”

Spinning around, Roman sat up. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Devin is holding this over Virgil. Using it to torture him.”

“But why would a brother do that?”

“If I had one, maybe I’d know.”

As they began to bicker, Patton and Virgil were making their way down the stairs. Virgil remained eerily quiet. Patton wasn’t sure how to comfort him. He had such a close relationship with his sisters. He couldn’t imagine someone being as horrible as Devin, or as bad as Virgil’s Nana.

Once they were outside of the Great Hall, turning to head down to the kitchens, they heard fast footsteps coming toward them.

Virgil spun around instantly, breathing easier when he saw that it was Preston.

“Though he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping,” Preston said, shooting a look at Remy, who was slowly walking up to them, “Remy told me everything. Nana...I knew she gave us those portraits to spy, but I’d forgotten about your muggleborn and half-blood friends. So stupid of me.”

“Preston -”

Preston shook his head. “No, don’t tell me it’s alright. It’s not. You shouldn’t have to put up with her. If mother or father would just grow a spine!”

“We can’t do anything about it.” Virgil mumbled, staring at his shoes.

Preston kneeled down in front of him, forcing Virgil to look at him. “Not yet. But as soon as there’s something I can do about it, I will. Okay? If I get out, you’re coming with me.”

Virgil threw himself into his brother’s arms, doing his best not to start crying for the fourth time that day.

Once Virgil had calmed down, he looked at his brother. “Since - since when are you and Remy friends?”

“Since I snogged him in an empty classroom.”

Preston rolled his eyes, the slightest hint of pink on his face. “That never happened.”

“But you wish it did.” Remy said as he helped Preston and Virgil to a standing position.

“No, I do not.” Though Preston’s tone was irritated, there was a bit of fondness shining in his eyes. “Perhaps you’re projecting?”

A blush burned on Remy’s face. He scoffed before heading off down the hallway.

“He pretty much annoyed me into being his friend.” Preston said, giving Virgil one last squeeze before running off after Remy.

Disgusted at the thought of Preston and Remy snogging, Virgil made his way to his room, with Patton in tow. He popped open his trunk, staring at the fabric-wrapped portrait.

“We can do it tomorrow.”

Virgil shook his head, reaching out with trembling hands. He unwrapped the portrait, wincing as he saw Nana walk into the frame immediately, a sinister smile on her face. She didn’t speak, but he had the feeling she wouldn’t need to.

Carefully hanging the portrait on an available nail, Virgil felt his gut twist.

Nana was up to something.

And he had no clue what it was.

#ts deceit #manipulative deceit #manipulative family #crying #panic attacks #adsoh #a different side of hogwarts #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #preston night #remy page

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tjkiahgb · 5 years

Text

Episode Recap: 3.16, “One Girl’s Trash”

I love when this show deals with serious topics. Just lays out a minefield and dares me to make jokes around it. Guns? Fine! Homophobia? Sure! Racial stereotyping? Let’s do it!

I mean, no, wait, it looks like I’m saying “let’s do racial stereotyping.” Please don’t do that! It’s bad! I’m saying let’s make jokes about the episode which contains... oh forget it, I’m just going to start the recap. Nobody quote me out of context, okay?!

Anyway, remember how the gang was criminals last episode? Well, the justice system works and it works fast.

Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, and Jonah, as part of their community service for garbage theft, pick up trash in a ditch.

Well, they pick up about one in every five pieces of trash. The rest of it they just kind of leave behind.

Cyrus’s allergies are killing him. Buffy’s foot is killing her. Jonah’s miserable. Everyone’s having a bad time.

Well, everyone except Andi, who’s treating this trip through a trash-filled ditch like a trip to the crafts store.

What kind of madman just tosses a pile of paper towel tubes in a ditch? You’d have to have been saving up paper towel tubes. For a while, too, because there’s seven of them, and it takes me like at least a month to go through that many paper towels.

So you go through a roll of paper towels and go, okay, I’m going to hold onto the tube for some reason. A month passes and you go through another roll. Another month, another roll. Seasons pass. You keep stacking up the tubes. They’re piling up in your kitchen. One day, seven-plus months into your project, you look at the tubes and decide, you know what, I’m going to take my tubes for a walk today. So you put on, I don’t know, I assume a full three-piece suit and top hat, and you’re walking down the street, cradling your stack of paper towel tubes and suddenly, you see it. A ditch. A ditch full of trash. You look at the trash. You look at your tubes. Your beautiful tubes. The tubes you’ve dedicated the last half-year of your life to collecting and then you decide, this is it. This is what I’ve been saving them for. I finally know their purpose. And then you full body huck them into the ditch and walk away.

What I’m saying is, if I’m Andi, I’d leave those tubes alone, because the lunatic who did this is still out there, and they might come back for them.

Andi stops and asks if it’s okay for them to keep all this garbage.

Sure would’ve saved them all a lot of trouble if anyone bothered to ask this last week, but at least we know their rehabilitation is working. They’re using their brains now and thinking through their actions, and that’s how you prevent repeat offenders.

They all head to The Spoon after putting in three hours of hard time. Andi brings her bag of trash and sits it at the table.

Why not? It worked for Trash Can Buffy.

If I ran The Spoon, I’d stop this right here and right now. First they brought in a trash can. Now they’re bringing in literal bags of trash. You don’t put an end to this and next thing you know they’ll be dumping their garbage from home on the floor. These kids are going to single-handedly knock your health code rating down to a C.

Jonah excuses himself to go talk to Amber. He tells her he won some tickets from a radio show to a Go Kart track.

Which is a weird contest. Don’t most radio shows give away like, VIP passes to concerts?

“You’re tuned in to 95.4. Other stations may get you backstage to meet Beyonce, but we’re the only station in town that’ll get you day passes to Racer’s Edge! Limit two rides. But if you ask the food vendor real nice and tell him that Beardo and the Hound Dog sent ya, he might give you a free pretzel! His name is Greg. He’s a cool dude. Aw aw awwwooooo! *a series of wacky stock sound effects* *someone saying 95.4 four different ways*”

Amber is thrilled anyway. She’s excited to be getting anything from Jonah.

Amber quickly recovers by saying she “would love to” and is saved from getting any follow up questions only by the grace of having said that to Jonah, who has no interest in such things.

Jonah returns to the table, where he learns Buffy is hangry. Now, I’m not up to date on all the new young folk slang, but I do believe that’s when you feel a bit like an airplane hangar. “I’m feeling very large building with an extensive floor area, typically for housing aircraft right about now.”

Amber comes over and slaps the check down on the table. Andi’s like, we haven’t ordered. Amber says it’s a preliminary estimate. Andi’s like, that doesn’t make sense but Amber plays it cool.

JUST READ THE PAPER AND DON’T TELL YOUR FRIENDS WHAT IT SAYS AND COME OVER AND TALK TO ME. I mean, let me get you all some bread to start.

Andi reads the secret note. It says to meet Amber in the back. Now. Andi excuses herself to go talk to Amber.

Watch my bag, she says, like someone’s going to make off with the loot. A thieving opportunist who sees a chance to add to their collection of worthless junk makes a daring dash, snatches the bag off the chair, and flees the restaurant in a bold heist. Gone in seconds.

Or maybe she’s just worried someone from The Spoon is going to do their job and throw the bag in the dumpster where it belongs.

Andi makes her way to the back and talks to Amber. Amber tells Andi she told Jonah she loves him. To which Andi is like...

...but in an empathetic way.

Andi’s like, you said those words? Amber says unintentionally but Jonah still smiled anyway.

Andi says that’s just what he does. That he’s the only known person with resting happy face. That his demeanor is almost always one of joy. And not just any joy. The sort of vacant joy where you try to look behind the eyes to figure out what he’s thinking but there’s nothing really going on back there. He’s happy just to be alive, and doesn’t want to, or perhaps can’t, think about it much more deeply than that.

Amber’s like, whether that’s true or not, he didn’t recoil in horror when I said it, so that’s a victory in my book. And looking to build off that victory, Amber asks Andi what would happen if she said she loved him for real.

Amber wants to know how it could be a bad thing to say you love someone. I mean, one answer might be if you’ve been in a middle school relationship with that person for only like, a couple weeks, and they’re notoriously weird about commitment and you don’t want to freak them the heck out.

Amber is undeterred. She decides she’s going to do it and she thanks Andi for encouraging her to go for it.

At Bex’s, Bex washes dishes. Bowie comes in and realizes she’s not wearing her engagement ring. Bex took it off while doing the dishes so it wouldn’t fall in the drain. This makes Bowie wonder, should they even still be wearing engagement rings when they aren’t engaged? Bex is like, they’re love rings and Bowie agrees to keep them.

At school, Andi’s class has been gathered in a circle of learning for an assignment from their teacher. They’ve each been given a slip of paper with a classmate’s name on it and have to describe their classmate without saying their name or using what they look like.

Andi volunteers to go first. Her classmate is from Philadelphia.

This kid figures out she’s talking about him.

This is a bad assignment.

I mean, even not going into what comes next, it’s a bad assignment. The teacher is doing this to prove the students are more than how they look on the outside, but by making the other kids pretend to be each other, you’re making them hit the most basic things they know about the other person.

Harris is going to go home tonight and think about how all one of his classmates had to do to pretend to be him was go, “Look at me, I’m a nerd from Philadelphia!” He’s going to be lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking, I knew it. I knew I mentioned I had a twitch channel to people too many times! C’mon, Harris! Get your head in the game. Better burn my Phillies t-shirt first thing in the morning.

So what did we learn? If you look at Harris, you might think: nerd, but once you really get to know him, he’s actually quite into graphic novels. Checkmate.

And let’s be honest, this is like the best the assignment was going to go. The worst the assignment could go?

Well, popular girl Kristina takes her turn. She’s like, oh, I don’t really know this girl. Um, there was the party she threw one time. That was cool.

Struggling to come up with a second thing, Kristina decides to dive head first into racism.

She says the person is probably good with computers.

Kristina, no!

Harris immediately steps in to throw himself under the bus as well.

Harris, no!

Andi’s like, no, that’s not me, but the teacher checks the slip of paper she gave Kristina and it is, in fact, Andi Mack.

I can’t believe how much Kristina just went for it. If I don’t know a thing about Andi and I’m sitting there, looking at her and pretending to be her, I fail the assignment before I jump to stereotypes.

“I like red sweaters and pants with holes at the knees?”

And if the teacher’s like, “Don’t use physical stuff,” then I go right to generic.

“I like certain types of weather, and hanging out with my friends and/or loved ones, and I don’t like car accidents or famine.”

And if I’m still being pressed to continue after that, I fake passing out. Or just keep going like, “And I... and I, um... and I-eee...” like I was thinking of something else but I’d try to make “And I” sound more and more like Andi and hope someone bails me out. I am the most popular girl in middle school, after all. People like me. They want to help me in the hopes that I’ll pay them attention. Perhaps let some of my popularity rub off on them so they may know what it feels like. God, to have such power. What I would’ve done with such power.

Anyway, point is, you had so many options, Kristina!

Later at Andi Shack, Andi tells Buffy and Cyrus about what happened. She says Kristina just thought, Andi’s Asian, so here’s a list of Asian girl things.

Andi says Ms. Frankel used it as a teachable moment about stereotypes, which, let’s be honest, is what she wanted all along. What was the point of the lesson if not to pivot to that discussion?

Andi’s upset people don’t see her as more than that. Cyrus, on his third straight episode now of questionable takes following “Bex and Bowie are manipulating you by saying your feelings are valid,” and “We should consider Mint Chip’s side of this argument as a business,” says that maybe Kristina thought she was complimenting Andi.

Okay, in fairness, that’s true. Kristina isn’t a malicious racist, she’s just a big ol’ dum dum.

Andi feels disappointed that while these kids have known her for years, they’ve never really known her. She decides to do something about it.

That night, Bex returns to the apartment to the smell of Bowie baking a four cheese lasagna.

I feel like I’m intruding on these two in this scene. I should go.

Andi’s not going to be there that night, so it’s just a romantic dinner for them.

First though, Bowie wants to know what they should do with Celia’s snow globe gift. He suggests putting it in a couple of places in the living room. Some are too visible, some too invisible.

Bowie’s like, maybe we can stow this shame globe away in Andi’s room?

The oven dings and the lasagna bails them out from having too much more of this awkward conversation.

Cyrus stops by Andi Shack that night with a box of stuff to help with Andi’s project, whatever it is. Andi still doesn’t know yet. She’s in the gathering stage.

Cyrus gives her the prison jumpsuit.

And the social experiment wristbands.

And the wig he wore at the party.

Oh, would you look at that, a very minor trip down memory lane and it’s already poking me in the heart. It’s all downhill from here, folks.

The next day at Racer’s Edge, Jonah and Amber do some racing.

Amber beats Jonah badly. She laps him. Which is sort of what you’d expect from her. She has that kind of aggressively-fast-driver energy. You know she’s going to wear out the horn once she starts driving real cars, and her car will absolutely have one of those overly antagonistic bumper stickers that says something like, “Drive FASTER or get out of MY WAY!”

Jonah tells Amber she’s so fun to hang out with. She sees this as her opportunity. She tells him she loves him, but is drowned out by passing karts. She tries again.

Jonah’s like, what? You want to race again? Okay! And off they go, leaving a lot of food on the table.

I hope they come back for that.

Later, Amber tells Andi what happened.

Andi says it’s maybe for the best Jonah didn’t hear her say love. Once you let the love thing out of its cage, there’s no putting it back in. Amber doesn’t want to mess up this relationship. She gets what Andi’s saying.

Andi walks down main street and spots Jonah inside Red Rooster. She heads inside and asks him for a frisbee.

Andi asks if he wants to go to The Spoon to hang out, but he doesn’t want to in case Amber’s there. Andi asks why he’s avoiding her.

Jonah tells her he heard Amber say love, but just pretended he didn’t, which I absolutely love. It’s the long con! Dude’s been oblivious for 14+ years, permanent smile on his face. Everyone knows this about him. So when the time came to deal with something he didn’t want to, what did he do? He kept the dumb smile on his face and played oblivious! And no one suspected a thing! It’s brilliant! He doesn’t realize how much in life he can get away with like this.

He’s worried though that he’s used up his “I didn’t hear you” excuse, so what’s he going to do next time?

Jonah thinks sooner or later though, he’s going to have to respond.

I honestly think Jonah can play this out as long as he wants. He just has to keep up the distractions. I lived with a family for three years by convincing them I was their cousin, and every time they asked me how specifically I was related to them, I’d say I had to go to the bathroom or needed a nap and then I’d disappear for two days. It worked like a soft reset. When I’d finally return, they’d have other questions for me, but not about my identity. Jonah can keep this up with Amber, he just has to commit.

Andi’s like, just because Amber said love, doesn’t mean you have to. Jonah’s like, hell yeah I don’t.

Honestly, good for him. Better than lying about your feelings just to appease her temporarily.

Jonah wants to know why it can’t just be fun instead of love. Andi says that for some people, it’s the same. Jonah’s like, well, if that’s what it’s going to be, I’m going to have to break up with her.

At Celia’s, Bex and Bowie run into each other. Bowie’s doing plant stuff. Bex is getting her wedding dress to return it. Bowie’s kinda surprised to hear that, but then he’s like, yeah, yeah, guess that makes sense, it’s just too bad I never got to see it.

Bex agrees to show it to him. Bowie turns to put something down and when he turns back...

Bowie loves the dress, and what’s more, he wanted to see Bex in the dress, and he wanted Andi to wear the dress when she gets married, and now none of this is going to happen because the wedding is off.

Bex wants to know why he didn’t say something before. Bowie thought he made it clear through his actions that he really wanted to marry her. Bex said he told her it was okay when she said they shouldn’t get married. He says it is okay because it’s what she wanted and he wants her to be happy. She wants him to be happy, too. He is happy, he just didn’t realize what seeing the dress was going to do.

Bowie excuses himself. Bex is left to think about some things.

At school, Andi has laid out her project.

Several questions.

1. Where did she construct this whole thing? Did she make this in Andi Shack? There’s no room! Did she make it in the backyard and move it to school?

2. Where did she get these giant panes of glass? They look expensive. And whether she moved the entire thing to the school from home, or brought all this stuff to school and assembled it there, this all looks incredibly heavy. Did she hire people to help her because I can’t imagine her doing this all by herself.

3. Did she get permission to put this in the middle of school? I would think so (hope so), but I just want to check to make sure someone knew this was happening ahead of time. Because, otherwise, a huge, mysterious object showing up in the middle of school with “DO YOU SEE ME NOW?” written on it multiple times feels vaguely threatening.

Kinda supervillain-ish.

And if I saw those paper towel rolls in the pile of stuff, I’d really start to panic. I’d think Paper Towel Tube Man was leaving the school a message.

Final question.

4. Why are Buffy and Cyrus dressed like they’re background dancers in a ‘90s R&B music video?

They look like they’re trying out for the school’s stage production of an old episode of Saved by the Bell.

I guess it’s fitting. Andi fashioned a bunch of garbage into an art project, and Cyrus and Buffy fashioned several different articles of clothing into new tops.

I’m just sad about how many neon predatory cats had to die to make Buffy’s, though I appreciate Cyrus making use of old wallpaper for his shirt instead of discarding it.

Anyway, they’re slightly confused about what they’re looking at. Andi tells them they have to see it from a different angle. She leads them upstairs.

They look down and see the project. They’re amazed.

No, it’s an Andi self-portrait.

This girl in the red is hands-on-chest amazed even though she has no idea what she’s looking at.

Well, either that, or she’s in tremendous fear about what this pile of garbage left in the middle of school means.

Andi’s teacher congratulates her on her project. So do Cyrus and Buffy.

And with just four episodes left to go, she might just be right.

#Andi Mack #Buffy Driscoll #Cyrus Goodman #Jonah Beck #Amber #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Harris Gurney #Kristina the Popular Girl #Ms. Frankel #episode recaps

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dreamsinthefoxhollow · 4 years

Text

School of magic

I am standing amid a crowd of students. Most are dressed in dark sweaters and brown robes. I feel kind of lost, but I banter with a few who are nearby. A cute girl smiles at me and I smile back. We all seem to be in our mid-teens. We are called in to a classroom as one large group. It has auditorium seating but is larger and feels more like an outdoor stadium. There are no desks, just bench seats. I end up at the lectern area on a low stage, where there is a very low desk with a dark set of sheets over it. I am being asked by someone sitting behind the desk why I am there. I explain, uncomfortably, that I am a just another student. I move around to their side of the desk. They try looking my name up on some kind of tattered paperwork. It almost looks like an ancient scroll.

A huge man with a beard leans over from the right and hands me a paperback book, while saying that my name should be on the paperwork under some "sub-page." He smiles amicably and I start to read the book. It is a very old book and front cover falls off as I open it. The first few pages are torn and blank. I reach the pages with the introduction but get distracted by the class.

Several teachers have gathered around me while I was looking down, and have been talking to the hundreds of students in the auditorium. I hadn't really been paying attention. I move quickly to a seat behind the teachers and sit at attention. I am at the back of the low stage. It is all introductions. Teacher x, teacher y, student areas, etc. I really should pay attention but I can't seem to focus. I look at my watch and the time seems strange. The hands are in a place I didn't think they should be. I notice an older, stern-faced teacher looking at me, but then she waves to everyone and announces that it's break time. We need to all return in fifteen minutes.

I leave by way of a back door so I can avoid the crowd of students and teachers, then walk around trying to collect my thoughts. Things just don't feel ... right.

Fifteen minutes are up really fast so I go back inside and sit in the same place I was sitting before. The same teacher comes over to me and nods, then tells me to get out of the seat and join the rest of the students. Around, not straight into them. I have to go around and stay out of sight.

I leave through the back door again then run up curving stairs that lead to the top of the auditorium. I run through a small room with heavy canvas curtains and find myself trapped there. It's like some forgotten crawlspace with steep drops down several stories and a bare interior. I can see straight down several stories, like down an unused airshaft. I have trouble finding my way through the heavy canvas curtains. They remind me of hanging sheets of skin.

I end up out in the lobby area we all had gathered when we first arrived, then run through and silently sneak into a door to enter the auditorium at the top. I find a place to sit in the darkness. I had wanted to get there fast, but getting lost cost me a lot of time. I feel they all think I just slowly walked, shameful of being told to get off the stage ad go around, not knowing I ran most of the way.

We are instructed to watch a short movie. It's about some school class tracking a wild animal to give medical aid. The animal is something I've never seen before. It's huge and white, like some kind of elk without antlers, but with the body shape of some kind of large cat. It's not a cat, though. The students following it are not wearing any protection or even have any supplies for subduing a large animal. The teacher says something about how we should prepare, because even though this is film, the beast's magic will affect us. I am just confused at everything, just before the world spins away.

I was walking along a train platform. Very few people were walking around, dressed in dark clothing. From the sounds and look of the place, I was in the 1930's in some industrialized nation. It was just a guess. There was a man sitting on a bench with his legs and arms stretched out and limp. He looks worn out. Exhausted. I approached and stood off to his left. My view was even with his face, and I could see my hand and sleeve.

I was dark-skinned. Black. I was wearing a brown uniform with gold stitching around the cuff of my jacket sleeve. It was like a military uniform. I was grown up, adult. I stayed motionless until the man noticed me. He looked up sharply, scared, then visibly relaxed and smiled. He said that I am a gift of the angels.

It all comes back to me in a rush. I had been helping him to get his family out of the city/country as a war was starting. I was helping though I was going against orders and doing it all on my own.

I left the man and followed the train tracks out of the building, then set off on a side path into the woods. It was countryside stuff. Tree groves and dirt roads and village buildings. There seemed to be heavy snow in places. I was following some tracks in the snow. A car with a wide wheelbase and very skinny tires. Or a cart? No? The prints in the snow could have been horses, or they could have been separate tracks of people walking.

I stopped when I found a large sign laying on the road. It was like a slab of thin, white wood. It wasn't very big, perhaps double the size of a regular sheet of paper. There was writing on it. I read it quickly. It was written by a child, or someone young. They were being taken away and were headed towards an airfield.

I rushed ahead on the snowy road. It started snowing. I heard an airplane engine growling in the distance. It was a propeller motor sound. It was revving up. I was too late. Again, I was watching myself from a distance, this time from very far away. I was running behind an aircraft as it was taxiing on a makeshift dirt runway in a snowstorm. Above me were bodies flying in the air with long black streamers behind them. Angels? One threw a streamer at the airplane as it left the ground, and the streamer wrapped around it, forcing it to fall back to the ground.

I startled awake. I was still in the auditorium. The film was off and the teachers were looking at all the students. They were also looking at me. I was shaking my head as if it were all a dream. I noticed all the other students seemed to have been having the same kind of reaction as myself.

A teacher spoke up, the same one who evicted me earlier. She said we had all been under a time spell by the creature in the film. Even though it was just film, the spell still affected us, just not as strongly as if we had exposed in person. She said we all traveled back in time a little and not to worry, as it was just one of our possible pasts playing out like a film, for us.

It had been a lesson in the disguise of a film. It was meant to tell us that there were things, here in this world, that could really mess with our perceptions. It was also a lesson to me. I had to be extra careful. I wasn't the teen sitting in the auditorium like I was pretending to be. I was something else. I was in disguise. I was messing with everyone's perception.

I wondered if the teachers knew who or what I was.

Class was over and we were dismissed. I just sat still as students filtered past me and out the various exits. I was waiting for them before I would leave. I just wanted to avoid the crowd. I kind of wanted to stay all to myself and not be seen. I noticed the stern-faced teacher looking up at me.

Someone came in through a lower entrance in the front of the auditorium, reminding me of an entrance for the player of a field sport. They were running and had a few people following. They were older teens and taller than most in the class that had just left. I could barely hear them telling the teachers that someone was coming to have a talk with them. The teachers all looked concerned, then looked up at the few students still in the auditorium. They told us to quickly leave and clear the auditorium.

All of us jumped up and made for the exits in a rush. There were maybe ten or fifteen of us left so we all made it out fairly quickly. I paused as I noticed a bright white light coming from the place the older students had rushed in through. It seemed like smoke was coming in with the light. Another student tugged my arm and I stumbled out the door with them. There were other teachers waiting in the lobby area, telling the students to hurry back to our rooms. I recognized the concern in their voices was bordering on bottled-in panic. I rushed around and ended up in the wrong group. By the time I was able to clear myself out from the rush of bodies I was far into the wrong area of the place and almost back inside the auditorium. I pushed through another throng of fleeing students, most much taller and older than I, and stopped at what looked like a large sleeping bag hanging upright against the wall.

I reached into the bag, pushing the opening of the bag apart, then reached down deep into the bag. I was trying to pry it open enough to see inside. I finally did only to find it was filled with sticks. Most had intricate designs on them, or had little red ribbons on one end, and some were shaped like Y's. I poked at them in confusion for a moment, then realized I had gotten into a bag of magic wands. Not only that, but they were all way above my level in the school. I shut the bag and realized the few older students still nearby were staring at me. One said something about it being impossible for a student like me to get into the bag as it was locked with a level magic spell. I ran the other way, to get away from the student, but still intent on getting to my room as instructed.

I bumped into a man who was walking through the lobby, and accidentally bumped him into a large round planter on the floor. He folded up and vanished into the planter like he was made of a thin plastic sheet. I stepped back, startled. Someone else ran up and I pointed and told them what happened. They nodded and reached into the planter to help pull the folded man out of the soil.

I ran again, trying to get my bearings.

I had to get to my room.

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deathlyhogwarts · 6 years

Text

The best prankster (James Potter x Reader)

Request: I’m not sure if you are still accepting requests, but if you are, can you please do a James Potter x Reader imagine? The girl is in Gryffindor but she’s very lowkey, and all she wanted was a proper education but there’s this stinking group of boys who always disrupts the class. She’s usually quiet and just brushes off the boys’ pranks until James Potter blew up her cauldron and she thought her grades were in danger so she retaliated. She’s stubborn like crazy and won’t stop until she wins

a/n: so these past imagines i've written are requests i got a long time ago. if you recognise your request, i'm really sorry. i almost abandoned this blog for good, but now i am determined to stay!

Warnings: probably some yelling/cursing

Masterlist

School was very important. Education was really important. At least, to you. You could've gone to a normal muggle school, learn about basic mundane things, which, weren't exactly useless, but most of them didn't require use in day to day life. When you got your Hogwarts letter you were bursting with excitement. Not only you were going to learn something new, but you were learning magic! That is why you wanted to be at the top in every class, you wanted to prove yourself worthy of being there, and also because purebloods always mocked you for that. You wanted to prove them wrong.

There was only one problem — four very, very problematic boys who called themselves "the Marauders"; very ingineous, what could you say. They caused some kind of trouble in every single class, whether it was just a little paper airplane thrown at the teacher or there was some explosion of some kind. Always trouble. Though, you never said anything, you let it slip past you, but it annoyed you very much. They were always a distraction from your education.

As you entered the Potions classroom, you got to your seat in the front of the classroom, being one of the first to get there. You arranged your stuff on the desk as the classroom filled with kids. The Marauders entering amongst the last, you couldn't help but notice they all had an amused expression on their faces. You scoffed. Of course they had something planned for today. You glared as James Potter smirked at you. Whatever they were planning you weren't going to let it ruin your class.

The professor entered, greeting the class, as he took his seat and started telling us about a potion called Skele-Gro. He explained the history of it and told some facts about it. He told us to gather the ingredients and start making the potion. After a few minutes he wanted to see how our potions came out, but as he tried to sit up, the chair got up with him. You rolled your eyes. So this was the prank? Pathetic.

"Who put a sticking charm on the chair?" Professor Slughorn asked calmly, but there was a warning tone in his voice. Of course, he didn't have to ask, we all knew who were the pranksters of this school. No one answered. "Perhaps, Mr. Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew would like to explain?"

Everyone looked at the four boys. Even they looked surprised. James got his hands up in defense and said: "We didn't do that, Professor." He sounded annoyingly sincere. So there was someone else who decided to be a prankster?

"Then whoever did this, would you care to explain yourself before I give you all Veritaserum and—"

Professor Slughorn wss interrupted by a really loud sound. You jumped from the sudden noise and then realised it was coming from your cauldron. Your eyes went wide and you started panicking. What did you do wrong? You never did something wrong, and even when you did, it was something small and it didn't sound like a dragon was about to give birth in your cauldron. Within a few seconds, your cauldron started shaking and excessively spreading smoke. Then it exploded. The potion was all over you and half of the students.

"Now that we did." You heard James Potter behind you and then he laughed. He had the nerve to laugh when half of your grade was spread all over the classroom.

You were furious. That was the last straw, you couldn't take it anymore. Who were they to think they could mess with everyone without any consequences? Red from anger, you turned so you were facing them. "You fool, you absolute fool! Who do you think you are, messing with my potion like that?! You think you're so funny and intelligent with all of your pranks, when, in fact, you are all just assholes!" And with that you gathered your things and got out of the classroom.

You were angry. You wanted to scream or punch someone, but you decided you were going to fight fire with fire. The Marauders didn't know what was about to come.

***

You decided to hit where it hurt most. You had a prank in mind for each one of the Marauders, each one being a planned, organised one. You went for light pranks for Remus and Peter, as they seemed the most down to earth. Especially Remus, he actually liked learning like you do, you noticed, and Peter, well, he usually got influenced by the others. They didn't annoy you as much, so you simply put a charm on Remus' books as to everytime he would try to open them, they would snap back closed immediately. Peter, you also put a charm on him as to everytime he took a turn on the corridor, he would appear in another one, and so he would get lost. That was easy.

As for Sirius and James, you had to really prepare this. You thought about it for a while and then something popped into your mind: what makes Sirius snob? His hair. So you sneaked into their dorm when they were off doing another prank and poured pastel pink hair dye into his shampoo and put a spell on it so it would last a week.

"Who in the name of Godric Gryffindor put hair dye in my shampoo?!" You looked up from your book and saw Sirius standing in the common room, a horrified expression on his face, but most importantly, his hair was pink. You hid your laugh as you buried your face back in your book. It was a good prank, but it was irritating how he managed to look annoyingly good even with pink hair.

James was next and last on your list. You were going to hit him where it hurt most — his pride.

***

You were in the hallway as were the Marauders and other students. You were leaning against the wall and watched them, as they all had smirks on their faces, even Remus, like they always looked before a prank. You already knew what was coming. Or rather, you knew what they thought what was coming. You've watched them for the past couple of days and saw what they were planning. What they didn't know, though, was that you twisted it.

You looked at James and as if feeling your stare, he looked back at you and his expression changed from mischevious to what looked like guilt. It was only for a second though, because their prey had just entered the hallway and he had to focus his attention back on his plan.

As the poor guy (that was not so poor thanks to you) passed, James quickly did a movement with his wand. You see, what was supposed to happen was a bucket of slugs to fall on the guy's head. As the guy passed by them and nothing happened, the Marauders' expressions changed quickly from mischief to confusion and they looked at each other in disbelief.

Then, in a matter of a second, a bucket fell on James Potter's head with a loud bang. He removed it quickly, looking bewildered. His head was covered in slugs and his hair was sticking out in every direction possible, thanks to a little charm you casted. Everyone laughed at him as he tried to remove the slugs from his face; even the rest of the Marauders chuckled lightly, but confusion was still very visible on them.

You quickly walked towards them and said: "Not so good when the one being pranked is you, is it?" You looked at all of them smirking and walked away.

As you were approaching the Gryffindor common room, you heard someone calling your name. "Y/N, wait!" You turned around and saw James running towards you, his face still covered in slugs and his hair still a mess. You wanted to laugh, but abstained with a very amused smile.

"Yes?"

"I, uh—that was clever," he said chuckling. "We all clearly underestimated you." He picked a slug from his face and threw it on the ground.

"Yeah, you did,", you said, crossing your arms at your chest.

"Come to think of it, I was going to apologise about Potions class, I thought you were so upset that you might not even give me a chance."

You frowned. "A chance at what?"

"Couldn't you tell? I was trying to get your attention. And that wasn't the only time, but for some reason you never noticed." He smiled. "Remember when I threw paper airplanes at Professor Flitwick?" You simply nodded. "Well they were aimed at you," he continued, "they even had a text written on them asking if you would go to Hogsmeade with me, but thank Merlin it was charmed to be seen only by you; if Flitwick would have seen that..." he trailed off.

You laughed. "I was upset at you, you know, I kinda still am. School means a lot to me."

"I've noticed." He nodded.

"And my grades are important to me."

"I'm sorry," he said and you believed him. His tone was sincere. "I didn't think it would go as far as to mess with your schoolwork."

You smiled. "I accept your apologies."

"So, would you like to go on a date with me? Without pranks, as hard as it is to say that."

You thought about it. The way you were always obsessed with them and their pranks, you always thought James was the most annoying one, which was really a reason to excuse yourself from thinking about him. Deep down, you were attracted to him, too. "Yeah, I'd like that." You smiled at him.

"Uh, can you help me with these?" He gestured towards his face and hair. "Since, you know, it's you that caused it," he joked.

"Of course," you said and took a step closer to him and reached for his face. You placed a hand on his cheek, while the other one picked slugs from his face. Very romantic, you thought.

He smiled cheekily at you. "You know, if we're gonna be like this everytime you prank me, please do that more often," he said. Indeed, you faces were very close and he was looking at your lips. You leaned in and your lips brushed.

"Nice, so now can you tell me how to un-pink my hair?" You suddenly pulled away, only to find Sirius standing a few feet away from us. Oh, you weren't going to do that very soon. He looked very good with pink hair.

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killervibe · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2: The Clique

Caitlin couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, she wasn’t even sure she could manage to blink, frozen numb. Her fingertips were white against her binder, gripping tightly to her notes as if it were her last strand of sanity.

She couldn’t do it. Not by herself, not when her hands were trembling and she was refusing to believe the truth, and she had to do it to protect him, and she had to stay where she was, walk the halls, wear her mascara, as if it won’t soon streak down her face—when all she wanted was to go back to yesterday and do it all over.

She fumbled with her cardigan, still shaking as she hung it on the hook, the school still too warm to wear anything but short sleeves. And when careful hands were on her back, spinning her around, her heart caught in her throat.

Cisco grabbed her hands, searching her face, his eyes were red-rimmed, and he had bags under them, a deep frown etched over, and she did that, she put it there.

“Caitlin, what’s happening, I don’t understand, why did you send me that text?”

Caitlin swallowed the lump in her throat, parting her mouth, but it was like her voice box had been ripped out, and she was helpless but to watch him stare at her, desperate for answers.

“Sweetheart,” he said softer, tone inflecting, and she flinched as he shook their joint hands. “Talk to me, please. It’s okay that you’re scared about something but please don’t push me away, I’m here.”

She tore away her gaze, feeling hollow inside, scooped out with nothing left for her to offer him. “These past two weeks—“

“—Were amazing—“

“—Were a mistake.”

He dropped her hands, horrified. “What?”

She couldn’t even recognize her own voice, when she continued, dull and stone faced. “They were a mistake. It never should have happened. We’re not a good fit, and should stay apart. I don’t like you the way I thought I did anymore.”

“Like?” he choked out, tears rimming under his big eyes. “You love me. I love you , since before I even knew what it was.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m done.”

Cisco’s hand went to his mouth, like he was trying to hide the sickness he felt. And Caitlin had to take her bag and walk away from him, leave him alone in the hallway to go to homeroom, so she did, forcing her feet to shuffle away, legs heavy like lead.

Mrs. DeVoe called attendance, and it was like every eye was on her, fear crawling up her skin. Caitlin stared down at her desk, waiting for her name to be called when Becky Sharpe sat down next to her.

“Hi, Caitlin,” she said cautiously. “Thanks for coming to see me but I was fine, just my usual, bad luck, you know.”

Becky had a bandaid over her nose, and Caitlin wanted to point out that it would do nothing for the break or to reduce bruising, but decided not to.

“The meeting wasn’t about you,” Caitlin said, flat. “It was about me. I broke up with Cisco.”

Becky’s eyes widened. She missed what followed, the aftermath, having had left early to be driven by her grandmother to the emergency room.

“Why?!”

“Because I had to.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, nauseous, and only opened them to raise her hand when Mrs. DeVoe finally called out her name.

“But you told me he loves you,” Becky whispered when call was over. “Why would you give that up?”

Hearing those words brought bile to Caitlin’s throat, and, suddenly, like a tidal wave, Caitlin was hit with terror over what she’d done. She scrambled from her seat, half grabbing her bag as she bolted, leaving her binder behind.

Her teacher yelled after her to demand where she was going, and the chattering classroom hushed over, craning their heads in unison to stare.

But she didn’t care, couldn’t care, wouldn’t care.

She nearly tripped in her shoes, and crashed violently when she cut a corner, her shoulder jabbing harshly against an edge as she sprinted to the ladies washroom. She threw her expensive bag onto the dirty floor when she got there, things smashing inside, and put her hands in her silver streaked hair, trying to breathe. She stared at her reflection in the badly washed mirror, and couldn’t recognize herself. The black on her eyelids, over her nails clashing terribly with her yellow summer dress.

How could she be so stupid? How could she think she could do both, one foot in each circle, like she could be the middle of a venn diagram. And why was she there in the first place? Why did she ever choose to ever think for one minute anything less than she knew was true?

Her mind was all over the place, not even able to hold onto a single train of thought. And then she couldn’t even do that, couldn’t even stand up anymore, shaking in this pathetic bathroom badly in need of renovations. Her chest was heaving and she tried to calm down, clutching her locket but broke down into sobs instead. Her back went sliding down one of the doors of the stalls.

This was it. There was nothing left. Nobody left. And everything is her fault. She was alone now. Utterly alone. No Daddy, no mom, not really, no Barry or Cisco. That’s gone forever. Broken, worse than last April, far worse, because she looked into his eyes and told him nasty lies, tore his heart in two, stomped on it and just walked away instead. And how could he ever love her again?

Who does she turn to now? And who would even care?

Only Lexi and her minions, and maybe Becky Sharpe, who was nice enough to hand her a kleenex when she needed one yesterday, but for all intents and purposes, didn’t really know her.

And, Lexi’s confession yesterday shook her. Caitlin threw up when she heard it, the fear in Lexi’s voice, and she knew that girl was defensive but she never knew why, didn’t understand why. And—She didn’t want to believe it, she really couldn’t dare, but what was Caitlin supposed to say, in the light of a second accusation? To let someone pour their heart out over their trauma and just brush it off like Lexi wasn’t sobbing when she’d told her what happened last Spring.

And so maybe she were the true loser here after all. And maybe she was blind to what everyone else saw, what the whole school warned her of last year that she turned her head from until she listened, and maybe letting Cisco back into her heart was weaknesses, or a desperate attempt to hold onto her innocence, before everything once dear to her was poisoned forever.

And she—She knew deep down this wasn’t right. That there was something wrong, but she didn’t know who to believe anymore, who to trust, but Cisco, liar or not, cheater or not, her boyfriend or not, was still Cisco and so she’d do anything she could to keep him safe.

And she wasn’t safe for him, she was the opposite. Caitlin wasn’t about to risk that, to put his everything on the line. So she had to give her phone to Lexi, and let her type in the words in the cafeteria before school started as the girls ate breakfast, after Lexi carefully asked why she hadn’t done it yet.

And when Caitlin said because she couldn’t, desperate to cling to the one good thing she had left, Lexi asked for her phone to protect you Caitlin, come on, we have to look out for each other. It’ll hurt today, but make you stronger. We can get through this together. Caitlin’s lip trembled, but she forced herself not to feel, not to look, unlocking her passcode, which wasn’t Cisco’s birthday anymore, because she changed that last May, and she buried her head in her arms on the table and stared at the graffiti scribbled there until Lexi said done.

Caitlin had taken her phone back, after that. Slid it into her pocket, put it on airplane mode and refused to see what came after.

Footsteps drew nearer down the hall then stopped. Caitlin looked up miserably when the door creaked open, bracing herself for whoever was about to see her in such a state.

It was Iris, and she stopped abruptly, her hand paused over the front zipper of her messenger bag, taking in the scene.

“Caitlin?” Iris hurried to her side, crouching down in her cute flats. “What’s wrong?”

Caitlin sobbed again, couldn’t help it, because she missed her but she missed Cisco too and how could she miss someone after screwing up her entire future with them?

“We broke up,” she gasped, burying her head in her hands. “We’re even now.”

“Oh my god, what?” Iris exclaimed, pulling her up. “Why?”

Caitlin’s mouth thinned in a straight line, and she pawed at the paper towel dispenser, trying to clean her face.

Iris went digging back into her bag, retrieving a makeup wipe.

Caitlin took it gingerly.

“Why won’t you talk to me anymore? Or to Barry?”

Caitlin ran the cold tap, and stuck the towel over her eyes, water dripping down her arms, as she took a shuddery breath.

She couldn’t tell Iris anything, Iris who was now the girlfriend of Barry, the best friend of Cisco.

The warning bell rang. Iris picked up Caitlin’s abandoned purse.

Caitlin reached for it, but Iris held it back.

“Look,” Iris said. “If this is about Lexi—“

“It’s not!”

“If this is about Lexi,” Iris continued, unafraid of being snapped at. “You should know she’s not the kind of person you are. She’s superficial, Caitlin, she’s all about playing games. It doesn’t matter how much she says she likes you, she’s the only person who wins.”

“This isn’t a game!” Caitlin wailed, the paper towel still damp over her forehead. She wished it were simple as that. That she could quit and put away a board into a cardboard box, and get back to real life, the one where she weren’t losing. “You don’t understand anything!”

Iris grabbed Caitlin’s wrist, jerking her hold on the paper down so she’d no longer hide her face. Caitlin startled, looking up at Iris staring sharply at her, eyes falling to her grip. “I don’t understand because you won’t tell us.”

Caitlin recoiled, yanking her hand back. “Stop pretending to care.”

She stalked out of the bathroom, breathing in shakily, telling herself to suck it up, and rushed to her first period class.

She walked into the science lab, trying to tell herself to calm down. It was chemistry. She was good at chemistry. And it was the first class of the semester, so most likely they’d review something really basic, like ionic compounds. She’d handle it. She’d totally be able to make it fine.

She’d be okay.

Caitlin kept repeating this in her head over and over until she half believed it, no longer on the edge of another panic attack.

She lined up against the wall with the rest of the class along the radiator, her classmates chattering as the teacher finally called them to attention.

“So,” Ms. McGee began. “As you can see this is the chemistry lab and we only have twenty five stations. This means every student will be assigned a partner for the remainder of the year. You will share equipment, perform experiments, write lab reports as well as complete two semester projects with your partner.”

Someone rose their hand. “Can we choose our partners?”

“No, it’s alphabetical order. Now let me do attendance. As your names are called I will direct you to the assigned work station.”

Caitlin was suddenly more alert, something going off at the back of her mind. She peered around at her classmates, looking for Becky, Lily or Ronnie, already calculating that she’d be paired with one of them.

The second half of the alphabet was prattled off. “Ronald Raymond?” The teacher looked at the remaining students, and Caitlin stepped back, shocked. Ronnie had never missed a day of school, rivalling Cisco for perfect attendance.

“Hmm,” their teacher said. “Well, he’s absent so Mr. Ramon, why don’t you take station sixteen instead?”

“Becky Sharpe, table two with the student teacher. We’d like to prevent further incidents, yes?”

Caitlin’s eyes grew with horror, at what that meant. “Miss Snow, you can go join Mr. Ramon.”

“What?” Caitlin blurted out, and the entire class went quiet, staring at her.

Cisco stopped tying his lab apron, looking up at Caitlin, weary, like he went through the longest day and they’ve barely started first period.

“Will that be a problem?” Ms. McGee prodded.

“Can’t I work with Becky?” she pleaded, shooting a glance at Becky, who had already somehow managed to spill three separate beakers, giggling nervously as the student teacher watched her like a hawk. Caitlin cringed. Her nickname was definitely not uncalled for.

“Miss Snow, I assigned you to table sixteen. I expect you to go there.”

Cisco remained quiet, and Caitlin felt stuck in her spot, glued to the floor.

“Miss Snow? Today please.” She looked back at her clipboard. “Lily Stein, table seventeen…”

Caitlin forced herself to shuffle her feet forward and sat at the stool. She dropped her bag to the floor and stared at the table blankly.

“Caitlin?” Cisco whispered. He put a hand to her shoulder, and Caitlin watched his hand there, just casually resting on her skin, like it belonged there.

It did.

It didn’t.

“This is just a class,” she forced out. “We’ll do our labs and that’s it, okay?”

“Caitlin.”

She looked up sharply, tears welling again in her eyes. “That’s it, okay?”

He held out her lab apron and she took it because she had to, then tied her hair up in a ponytail.

“So what,” Cisco said after awkward silence. “We’re just not even going to talk anymore? What the hell?”

They were going to do a simple experiment, testing out the equipment by boiling water with bunsen burners. Caitlin tried not to yawn, she’d been using bunsen burners since elementary school. She thought this was AP Chem.

“Oh the silent treatment,” Cisco noted when she didn’t reply, chuckling to himself as he turned on the bio-sink tap. “My baby sister knows that game very well.”

Caitlin took out her pencil case and dumped its contents out on the table, her lucky eraser falling out onto the floor, having shaken the bag a little too forcefully.

Cisco got it for her, placing it in front of her on the table. “You look very pretty today,” he said, and his hair rustled a bit underneath the band of his goggles. He blew at it, pulling his curtain of hair out of his face. “You always do.”

Caitlin furrowed her brows, digging her lead pencil into the paper, answering question one about required materials to perform the experiment in full sentences instead of the suggested point form.

“You should really tie your hair up. It’s a lab hazard.”

Cisco frowned. Caitlin returned to the worksheet.

Cisco plugged in the burner, and placed the beaker of water onto the platform, drumming his fingers against the desk as the gas flame ignited.

The water was just starting to boil when he took her hand. “Caitlin, what did I do? Did I hurt you? Because yesterday at lunch, it was like you could barely keep your hands off me, we were so happy, and I don’t understand what’s happened since.”

Did he hurt her? Does she even know who he is anymore? Does she really believe what Lexi said? What Cisco did?

It didn’t matter, she decided. In order for this to work, she had to act like he did.

She stared at his hand over hers. Soft, and gentle and she pulled it away, unable to believe she couldn’t have him anymore.

“I can’t—” she choked, her stool screeching back as she grabbed the handle of her bag and made a run for it yet again, throwing her apron onto the floor of the lab and bursting out the door, sprinting down the hallway.

She didn’t go to the bathroom this time, just kept going, turning corners until she made her way out the back door, ending up in the field.

She didn’t want to be here. She couldn’t be here. Not in chemistry class, not in the hallways, not even in that school. Her hands went to her face, but bumped against the hard plastic of the safety goggles, and she yanked them off. She took out her phone, wanting to dial her driver to pick her up, but hesitated.

Her driver would tell her mom she skipped school.

So she went to the App Store and downloaded Uber.

She dug through her bag for her debit card, realizing she forgot her binder in her homeroom class, and her compact mirror had smashed, shards littered at the bottom. She dug out the card from her wallet, walking distractedly to the bleachers as she organized her contact information, setting up her account and plugging in her payment method.

There weren’t any rides nearby, the closest car a good sixteen minutes away. She sighed, and raked her hand through her hair. The field was all but empty, a small gym class doing laps around the perimeter. She didn’t think she’d get caught, that people would find her here, but she wouldn’t know. Didn’t know what happened to runaways. She had always followed the rules. She had always done everything right, academically, anyways.

She’d get a detention. Or, her eyes widened, a suspension. A call home. Oh god, she was going to get yelled at. But it was too late to go back. Forget chemistry class, she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to show her face there again, her cheeks going red with downright mortification. She had talked back to Mrs. McGee, the teacher who she was eyeing on writing her letters of recommendation for Harvard.

She could only hope Cisco didn’t get excused to come find her, because she really ran out of words left to say.

Caitlin fidgeted, rubbing her exposed legs and missing her sweater left in her locker, wishing the minutes to go faster, staring at the icon of the blue mazda coming to pick her up from this hellsite so she could go home.

She didn’t notice the person walking up the silver steps of the bleachers from the other end, though she should’ve, the aluminum creaky, going taunt underneath her feet at the weight of another body making their way down her row.

“Hey, Caitlin.”

She squinted up at Eddie Thawne, the sunlight filtering through his blond hair, smiling down at her with his boyish charm. He threw his Adidas sports bag beside her and made himself comfortable, their knees grazed for a moment, Eddie casually leaning his elbows back on the bleacher behind them, stretching out his legs.

“You have free period now, too?”

Caitlin lied and nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Hi.”

They sat in silence for a minute, watching Wally West outrun his entire Sophomore class out on the field.

“Listen, Eddie…”

“You did the right thing.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, you did.”

Caitlin looked at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But it wasn’t my place. I did it to hurt Barry, but who I really hurt was you.”

Eddie shook his head and rolled his eyes like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing because he wouldn’t look her in the eye, his foot tapping against the bleacher in a measured beat she knew was a nervous tick.

“I never stood a chance. My head was in the clouds, dreaming up futures with her, thinking we’d go to schools together and stuff. It was naive as hell. You saved me from a lot of trouble this year.”

“But you still love Iris.”

“Yeah.”

Caitlin sighed and Eddie saw her shiver in her sleeveless dress. He rummaged through his bag and passed her his varsity jacket. She took it because she was freezing, slipping her arms through the giant sleeves with a murmured thanks.

“No sweat,” he said, giving her an appraising look. “New haircut?”

“You can say it.”

“Wasn’t gonna!”

“My dad hated it. Said it looked like I was--” she stopped and gave out a weak half laugh, rubbing at her own eyes, frustrating that all she could seem to do today was cry. “I was auditioning for the role of a space martian in an Ariana Grande music video. I didn’t even know he knew who Ariana Grande was.”

Eddie laughed out loud, his voice rich and friendly. “I didn’t even know that you knew who she was. Everytime I see you, you’ve got your head stuck in some book.”

“I’m not that bad.” She scrunched up her nose. “Cisco loves that stuff.”

Her phone vibrated, saying her ride was 5 minutes away.

“How are things with Cisco?”

And she had forgot, for a moment, why she was out here skipping class for the first time, skipping school without an early dismissal.

She looked away, staring at the green grass. “We’re not together anymore.”

“That’s too bad. You two were pretty solid.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I always knew Ronnie Raymond had a thing for you.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “...Uh. Yes, but—”

He saw her alarm and waved his hand at her, as if to say like, chill, I’m not telling you to get married.

“You should think about it. We deserve a second chance, you know? Iris isn’t my future. Maybe Cisco isn’t yours.”

Caitlin didn’t want to believe that.

Caitlin’s phone beeped again, she jumped up in the sun in another boy’s jacket, eyeliner smudged under her eyes, unsure what to do.

“I have to go—Uh, study.”

She tried to school her face neutral, like she wasn’t about to walk off the school property and get into a weird car with a weird driver she won’t know, hoping she wasn’t screaming I’m gonna ditch school for the first time right now because as you can clearly see, even if you are too nice to comment on it, I am an emotional wreck.

“...On the second day of school?”

“...Yeah,” she replied lamely.

She begun to shrug off Eddie’s jacket, but he waved her off again.

“Nah, keep it. We’re getting the new ones after practice today. You can give it back during another free period.”

“...Oh. Alright. Bye Eddie.”

Eddie slid on his sunglasses, “See you later.”

~.~

Uber wasn’t so bad. Her driver was steely quiet just like her own chauffeur. It was awkward, but she supposed that was the way it ought to be.

Caitlin climbed the steps to her house two at a time but paused at the entryway. There was mail in Caitlin’s mailbox. Flyers and enveloppes shoved haphazardly into the black rectangle with her address number embossed in golden script. It was jarring, she wasn't used to it, as silly as that sounded. Usually, she’d come home to find everything pristine, the mail already picked up by one of the house staff, and anything delivered for her already sitting neatly on her bed.

She reached in and took them out of the box, sorting through them. Most of it was junk, but there were lots of bills. Some for her mother, but most of them were addressed to her father, which panged her heart. One or two international cards with stamps in the corner were in the mix, and Caitlin realized they must’ve been late condolences from business partners of Tannhauser Industries.

She paused when she found a blue envelope with her name on it and maneuvered her hold on all the other items under her arm. Ripping it open, she found a sunny little card which read “I promise not to ask you how you are. Instead I’ll entertain you with gossipy conversation and weird memes.”

She nudged the edge open with her thumb, and read the rest. Her eyes began to burn with tears when she recognized the handwriting she’d been lying to herself that wouldn’t be inside.

Caitlin,

Saw this at a Hallmark where I was passing time after dropping Rosita off at her Ballet class. I knew you’d like the tea bags after that debate we had over whether black or herbal tasted better. Also, I think you deserve a card. I’d mail you one everyday but I’ve been informed back in 8th grade by a certain someone that was obsessive. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I Love you & hang in there. We’ll do this senior year thing together and it’ll be better than last time, I promise.

Cisco

Caitlin swallowed harshly, and sat down hard on the steps.

This isn’t fair.

Her breath caught as her fingers ran along the ink of his message but she couldn’t even look at it anymore, so she closed it, and covered her eyes with her palms. A sob slipped out, and then she couldn’t stop.

The front door opened, and a voice startled. “Caitlin! What are you doing home?”

Caitlin looked behind her shoulder, but no words came out. Molida’s surprised, stern face softened. Caitlin’s housekeeper hurried down the steps, sitting down next to her.

“Miss Snow, what happened?”

Caitlin exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do it anymore. So I left.”

Caitlin leaned into Molida’s side easily, her hair splayed against her shirt. Molida was warm and sturdy, with her arms wrapped around Caitlin. She may be the only person she had left in her corner. “Caitlin, I don’t understand. You’ve never skipped school.”

Caitlin looked up, meeting kind eyes and noticing the curly hair braided down her back. Molida had pen ink on her right hand, and three rings on the fingers of her left. She forgot how young she was. Only about fifteen years older than herself, and, Caitlin thought, not for the first time, that maybe her life would be better if Molida was her mother instead. She sort of was, in a way. Having started working here ten years ago. Caitlin was only seven then.

“I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t stay.”

“And why not?”

A car rolled leisurely down the street, and they both turned their heads to watch it pass by the gate. The sun was beating down stronger, and Caitlin no longer felt cold.

“I wasn’t ready to go back. It was so bad, please don’t make me go back.”

“Caitlin, it’s school. You love school, and you need to--”

“You’re not listening to me! I said, I can’t.”

“Excuse me?” Molida gave her a long, evaluating look. “...Okay. You’ll stay home. But I have to call your mother. And then I’ll call the school to excuse your absence.”

Caitlin bunched the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket into her hands, biting her lip, staring down at the pavement. She didn’t deserve that kindness, not after the way she snapped at her.

“Caitlin, I just want to help you.”

There was no way. Absolutely no way she could. Not with all of it. Not everything. Not...Not what really mattered. What really happened.

But her heart was twisting apart like a fraying rope, and she was tired and scared, and exhausted. Her hand went to her locket around her neck, trying hard not to think about the two people in it, the two she had now lost permanently, in very different ways.

Caitlin stood up silently and so did Molida, gathering the mail. Caitlin shielded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, meeting her gaze. “I don’t think you can.”

~.~

Caitlin didn’t know how she got here.

“Do you want another one?” Shawna asked, handing out a fresh red Solo cup. She wore a purple crop top, and skintight black jeans. Caitlin’s eyes lingered on silver rod of her belly button piercing, unsure whether to be awed or horrified. That couldn’t have possibly been painless.

“Well, Snow? I’m trying to be generous, here.” Shawna’s eyes were a little glossy, her hair frizzier, half falling out of the bun she’d had it piled high on top of her head.

“Of course she wants,” Lexi swooped in, taking the cup and placing it in her lap. Caitlin’s fingers curled around the cylindrical shape, staring down into its contents.

Caitlin sat stiffly on the couch of Tony Woodward’s parents’ home. She’d had three drinks already, two cranberry vodkas, the only alcoholic drink she’d learned she enjoyed at Lisa’s older brother’s birthday party last month. It wasn’t awful, but even she knew it was badly mixed, leaning heavily to the side of pure liquor. Her third drink was the half warm cup of beer thrusted at everyone who entered the door that made her grimace the entire time she tipped it down her throat. “What is it?”

“The hell do I know,” Shawna laughed, “I didn’t mix it.”

Caitlin glared at her.

“Oh come on, liven up. Isn’t that the point? Remember how fun it was, at Len’s party?”

Caitlin didn’t know, honestly. She was so drunk she barely remembered. Cisco kept giving her odd looks when she never took her sunglasses off the next day.

Becky Sharpe intervened, holding her hand out from the other end of the couch. “Hold up, if Caitlin doesn’t want to drink anymore then we let her do that, right? Like, I don’t drink anymore because I get alcohol poisoning from, like, one beer. So she’s fine. We can be sober buddies.”

“What the hell is the point of coming to a Tony Woodward party if it’s not to get trashed?” Shawna yelled. “You need to stop being such a prissy ass, Caitlin!”

The girls all stared at her expectantly as Flo Rida pulsated through the bluetooth speaker.

And it was like. Okay. So Caitlin was new at this, but it’s not like she was an alcohol virgin, right? She’d take dainty sips of wines from her dad’s cup at home occasionally, and she did drink two weeks ago and Leonard Snart’s party.

It’s just, it was a school night.

And when Lexi came over, pulling her out of bed and fixing her hair, telling her she knew what would cheer her up, she didn’t say no. She wasn’t even sure if she could say no. But what was the use analyzing that? She didn’t say it anyway, so what was the point? It’s not like Caitlin was in the mood to start playing around with pushing her limits with these girls.

She peered down into the cup.

Alcohol made people forget heartache, isn’t that what they said?

Caitlin took the glass and drank it all, then asked for another.

And then another.

~.~

“So when are you going to tell us whose jacket you’re wearing?” Lisa demanded, shrieking into Caitlin’s ear. She had finally returned from making her rounds with her lipstick smudged, making out with everyone who’d let her.

Caitlin blinked, looking down at her attire. “Oh my god.” She grabbed Lexi’s arm, shaking it. “Oh crap. It’s Eddie’s!?” she couldn’t believe she forgot. Why hasn’t she taken it off!? Everyone is going to start assuming stuff oh crap. Crap crap crap.

“Oh. My god??” Lexi jumped up and down on her seat cushion. “Spill the deets!”

Caitlin took another gulp from her cup and frowned, thinking hard. “Well, I think--Like. He was just being nice, you know. And he….gave it to me.”

Caitlin squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a little woozy. Was that what happened? It was, right?

“When?” Lisa implored.

Caitlin opened one eye. “This….morning?”

“Oh, my god. Ohmigod he likes you!”

Caitlin used Lexi’s arm for support to pull herself up. “No Because Iris! Doesn’t matter because Cisco.”

She reached for her cup again, but maybe it was Lisa’s. Oops.

“I thought you two broke up?” said Becky.

“No!” Caitlin exclaimed, getting up on her feet. “Like, listen, okay. I can wear this jacket if I want. Because me and Cisco aren’t like, infinite anymore. Not for now. Maybe never.”

“That’s right,” Lexi enthused, raising her solo cup to toast. “You’re an independent woman!”

Lisa whooped, toasting with Lexi.

“It’s stupid. It’s all so stupid. Why would we be infinite?” Caitlin ranted, starting to pace. “Every smart person talks about infinity like it’s a thing you know, like it’s real but they never got there. Infinite is like...Not….Achievable, so why are they lying?”

“That’s so deep,” Lisa fawned. “But I don’t get it.”

Caitlin nearly tripped, sloshing her drink over the rim. This place was so crowded. And it was crazy because she didn’t care about any of these people. It’s like what Shawna said. She was such a nerd. She didn’t branch out and talk to people. No wonder she had no friends! Look at all the people here, they were so cool and interesting, and they weren’t Barry and they weren’t Cisco so maybe she could start scratch.

Yeah. Caitlin was going to start scratch. Central City High School was pretty big, and half of her graduating class was crammed in this very house.

She decided to share this revelation. “Okay! But, I think it’s like--Just because, like. Some things don’t work! Okay! Sometimes they don’t! And you have to accept that! You just start over! Like that song!”

“Oh!” Lisa tilted her head, snapping her fingers and humming an indecipherable tune under her breath, trying to jog the words to memory. “I know! Thank U, Next?!?”

“Yes!” Caitlin clapped her hands. “Thank U, Next. You know? You just,” Caitlin stopped abruptly bumping into Jake Puckett.

His eyes went wide. “Snow? What are you doing here?”

Okay why is everyone asking her that. Is she like, on the non invite list or something. As if, Tony Woodward could make a list.

Jake’s eyebrows climbed higher, laughing with disbelief.

Ooooh no. She said that out loud didn’t she. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Ohmygosh. That was so rude.”

“I like you drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Caitlin asserted, “I’m--” She realized who she was talking to. “Hey! You. You….Gross….Ugh! Stop bothering Cisco! You’re not allowed to talk to me.” She shoved him hard out of her way, and he let her, surprisingly, turning on his heel. letting her go.

She made a beeline into the kitchen to get something for her throat, still grumbling about that jerk. Her throat was burning and she wanted water. But this wasn’t her fridge and this wasn’t her kitchen and she didn’t know where the nice glasses were. Also. She wanted ice.

But finding water was actually really hard, people were stuffed against each other around the table with liquor and she ended up with two more cups of stuff she spent that last hour and a half drinking.

Caitlin gave up after aimlessly searching for about five minutes, slouching her head over the counter by the stove.

Becky found her there moments later. “Hey, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head home. You wanna come?”

“Ughhhh.”

“....Is that a yes?”

She wanted Cisco to take her home. A violent shudder went through her, and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. She doesn’t understand why her head feels so funny and why she’s here and why the music is so god awful and loud. And why isn’t Cisco picking up her calls? She sent him twelve snaps and he hasn’t opened any of them so she deleted the app and then unfollowed him from Twitter. She looked up to tell Becky but she was gone.

Lexi walked in then, worming her way though the crowd. She glanced at Caitlin, then turned to Shawna who was closely behind her. “Oh my god. She’s a mess.”

“This is all your fault!” Caitlin yelled, banging her first against the table.

“Caitlin, you drank too much. God, when I said to have some fun tonight I didn’t mean for you to embarrass us.”

“I’m not!” she insisted, hiccuping loud sobs all over again. This wasn’t fun anymore. What was she even doing here? Was she out of her mind? She just wanted Cisco and she wanted to go home .

Tony peered in. “Is that Caitlin Snow screaming? Can she shut up? This house is loud enough, I’m afraid a neighbour is going to call the cops or something.”

It was as if Tony wished it upon itself and it immediately came true.

“Oh hell,” he cussed.

Loud voices starting making a ruckus over the music and the bluetooth was immediately disconnected. Kids started to scramble, ditching their friends in an attempt to run out undetected, and four policemen stormed in like it was a raid.

Shawna grabbed Lexi by the hand, pulling her through the back door in the kitchen.

Caitlin stood frozen, eyes wide with terror.

A police officer looked down at his notebook, “Alright, where’s Woodward? I know this is his house--” he looked up and nearly dropped his pen.“Caitlin?”

She looked up at officer West. That was a mistake. The look of disappointment on his face made her want to disintegrate.

“Change of plans,” officer West said to his partner, jabbing his thumb out at Caitlin. “I know this one. She’s a friend of my kid.”

Iris’s dad exchanged some words with his coworkers, then walked with Caitlin out of the house.

The cold air hit her too hard, like she had just stepped off a rollercoaster at a Six Flags. She swayed, woozy, and she had to rely on the large hands guiding her into the cruiser car. “Do you have your phone?”

“Its dead,” she slurred.

“Alright.” He strapped her into the backseat. Caitlin shrunk into herself, fisting the seatbelt, and hiding her face into the leather material. She felt like a criminal.

The ride was very quiet. Caitlin stared out the window watching all the lights whizz by.

Eventually, about five minutes from her neighbourhood, Officer West spoke up.

“Caitlin you are a minor. And you’ve consumed a hell lot of alcohol at an illegal house party unsupervised with a whole bunch of rough kids. You’re smarter than that.”

“I called Cisco. He didn’t pick up.”

Officer West adjusted his rearview mirror so he could look at her.

“Why didn’t he?”

“He hates me.”

“Why on Earth would Cisco hate you? Lovers’ spat?” He chuckled, but quieted when she didn’t answer. “Caitlin?”

“He hates me.”

“Kid, I don’t think you’re hearing what you’re saying. That boy is so ridiculously in love it hurts my eyeballs to watch. There’s no way that’s true.”

That angered her. Because she was hearing what she was saying, perfectly fine. And maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day very soon, Cisco’s blinding optimism she had fallen in love with will wither away, and for what she’d done to him, for the way she’s breaking the years they shared, there was no doubt in Caitlin’s mind that he was going to grow hate.

“Don’t you think I wouldn’t do something crazy unless my life was falling apart?”

Officer West paused, and pulled over on a side street. He twisted backwards and removed his black beanie.

“Caitlin. I know you’re struggling because of your father. You have real, raw pain in your heart and I understand that. My father died too when I was young and I was only left with my mother. But you need to handle grief in another way. A way that won’t put you in danger or isolate you. One with support and people who actually care.”

Caitlin blinked rapidly, her eyes welling with tears.

“But Grandma Esther loves you and Iris. You were still loved.”

Officer West’s face twisted. “You don’t think your mother loves you?”

Caitlin’s shoulders started to tremble and she pulled her legs up, dropping her head to her knees, unable to voice her thoughts aloud.

Nobody does anymore.

Joe made a grunting sound, and turned back around, turning on the windshields to wipe away the sudden rain.

“I'm gonna bring you home.”

~.~

Officer West got buzzed in through the gate and Caitlin’s mother came running down the front steps, meeting them down the driveway.

She gasped when she saw Caitlin and the state she was in. Her hair matted to the left, eyes incredibly red and puffy. And to make matters worse, she was still in Eddie Thawne’s jacket.

“Carla, did you know your daughter was not at home?”

Her mom crossed her arms over her satin robe, her reading glasses perched on the top of her head. “Our housekeeper informed me she had skipped school. It was my impression she was still here until half an hour ago.”

Iris’s dad frowned. “You never realized she wasn’t home?”

Mom shot him a look of disdain. “Officer West, I’m certain you’ve been in my home.”

“Yes I have,” he replied, without a beat.

“Then you know how large it is, and how easy one can slip away. Clearly, my child has lost the privilege to be entrusted with such responsibility of entering and leaving without permission. That ends tonight. Where were you?”

Caitlin shivered in the cold, eyelashes still clumped together from tears, as she looked up at her. “...A party.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “ Did Francisco put you up to this? And is that why you skipped? Some kind of senior’s prank? I don’t find that funny, Caitlin.”

“Cisco had nothing to do with this,” she said, tired. Caitlin pushed past her mother, “I told you I’m not speaking to him anymore. And I don’t want to talk to you either.”

She ignored whatever angered retort her mother threw at her back, going up the long driveway to go inside.

Caitlin was certain she was going to throw up, but she never did. She went to her bedroom and walked past her mirror. She paused, staring at her own reflection, feeling sick in a different way from the twisting in her stomach. She still had the black over her eyelids, and the black on her nails and the gaudy yellow sundress she now hates over the stupid varsity jacket.

She yanked it off, throwing it to the ground and pushing it out of her sight. It didn’t belong on her. She shouldn’t have taken it. It felt like cheating. It was wrong. And it was wrong to get drunk and it was wrong to go to the party and it was wrong to skip school and it was wrong to yell at Molida and it was wrong to snap at Iris and it was wrong to embarrass Cisco in front of the entire chemistry class. It was wrong to think she was worth one penny to him anymore, and it was wrong to miss his touch and his goodnights in her ear before drifting off to sleep like every night since he’d first learned how to use Armando’s ancient iPhone in the seventh grade.

But it wasn’t wrong to break up with Cisco. Her bottom lip trembled, and she turned her head away, unable to even look at herself.

She crawled into bed, curling into a ball on her side, with everything else still on. Even the lights.

#the flash #killervibe #tkv fic #cisco ramon #caitlin snow #lux et veritas

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nyamafriend · 6 years

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Story time

So I have realized I have never told stories of the weird things that happen in my school so here is a list of strange occurances that have happened at my school

• Once my language arts teacher looked out the doorway in the middle of class, said “do you ever get the urge to cartwheel down an empty hallway?” and proceeded to do a cartwheel down the empty hallway

• Once my friends and I were talking about the death of a character at lunch and the people behind us told the principals we were in some blood/suicide pact. • Someone once taped the face a a teletubby toy to the ceiling of our language arts room • My language arts teacher has almost fought a student • In 7th grade science (we were in advanced science by the way) someone stuck scissors in the electrical socket • Once my friends and I were at lunch and one friend (L) tried to take my other friend’s (B) food to which B responded with the loudest, angriest Nom-nom EVER • Someone threw a paper airplane in my language arts class (most everything is in language arts) and another person caught it and ate it • The other day someone in my study hall told the study hall teacher that if she didn’t let him go early he would jump out the window and she responded wth “please do” • Someone once asked our social studies teacher why there were no white people in africa. He buried his head in his hands for about 5 minutes • My friend B took us to the movies for her birthday and before that we went to the dollar store to get some snacks and our friend L ended up impulse-buying this squishy green train we named Nigel • Sometimes L brings Nigel to school and I occasionally steal him and end up saying “Nigel is in my locker” and probably scaring anyone around us • Once in orchestra someone we will call C left his cello out where I wanted to sit and when I tried to ask him to put it away it came out as “CELLO… MOVE… STUFF… SIT… YEAH… BYE” and my friend had to translate for him • My friend has a small crush on C and she said the only way it could possibly work was if their zodiac signs went together and when I asked him what his zodiac sign was he responded with “lizard” and walked away. We later discovered he was a cancer and to this day we are confused about his answer • My teacher once said if he ever had twins he would name them after superheroes so if he had two boys he would named them Peter and parker or bruce and wayne, if he had two girls he would name them gwen and stacey, if he had one boy and one girl he would name them scott and summer, and so on • In 4th grade our friend G accidentally cut B’s chin with scissors and almost got suspended because our elementary school did not tolerate “malicious intent” and it is now known as the scissor story of 4th grade That is all I can remember for now, but I am sure I will remember something else. I will make another post for everything I forgot

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rockyscactus · 7 years

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Bad Boy Part 2

He held onto your waist and pulled you back down before smashing his lips onto yours, "No thank you." He flipped you both over and got up before walking away, "Oh and...call me sometime...Y/N", he winked.

Your eyes went wide with horror as you laid on the floor of the school cafeteria, dumbfounded.

"Hey...Y/N right? I think you're in my swim class", a girl with strawberry blonde hair came up to you the next day.

You gave her a skeptical look. You weren't a fucking idiot, you knew why she was the tenth student in almost a year to talk to you today. You only gave her a genuinely fake smile, "Yes and you know what I think? I don't know your name, I finished swim class last year, and I know the reason why you're pretending to know me", you shrugged before continuing your walk to the memory filled cafeteria.

"She's the one he kissed?"

"It's gotta be some joke!"

"You're a fucking liar!"

"There's no way in hell that actually happened", were all things that were said that day. You half wished that it hadn't actually happened, maybe people wouldn't be approaching you left and right trying to be your best friend. Maybe people would also stop pretending that they were your friends since kindergarten. But maybe you wouldn't have had your first kiss yesterday--wait, no-- you definitely wouldn't have had you first kiss yesterday. People wouldn't pretend to know you and things would be normal again.

You walked through the cafeteria doors and looked at a crowd that was forming, you guessed that you were somewhat old news now. You did a double take before realizing that the crowd had formed around your table. The table that no one else had sat at in almost a year before Shawn. You let out a groan as you threw your hoodie over your head and proceeded to get your lunch.

"How's you day Y/N", the cafeteria woman asked you with a smile.

Great, her too! "Just peachy", you sent a fake smile her way before tucking your hoodie even further up your head and grabbing your lunch. You tried to find an empty table as you walked up and down the aisles, laying as low as possible.

"Hey there, princess", your hoodie was tugged from your head.

"What the fuck", you turned around to be faced with a smirking Shawn. You crossed your arms, "Will you please just leave me the hell alone. That kiss was nice and all but I really don't need you or your fake ass posse to make my life 'better' when it's really become a shit ton worse in a course of twenty-four hours", you hissed with your index finger against his chest.

"Woah, woah, princess, I didn't tell the whole world I had sex with you. I kissed you in front of the whole school. The same people that I can recall that you've called idiots, scumbags, and people you don't give a shit about, what's the difference now", he threw his hands out in exasperation.

"What's the difference", you let out a dry laugh, "I don't care about what these people think because they obviously couldn't give two shits about me, boy I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn't, maybe they actually care about you and don't give a fuck about me. Ever think that?"

"I liked you at first, I truly did, but I'm not sure at the moment because the girl who didn't give a shit about people isn't really here right now", he rolled his eyes.

"Well guess who doesn't give a shit about you and your stupid kisses, stupid leather jacket, and stupid messy hair? This girl, the same girl who you're claiming gives more than two shits about what people think", you threw your hands up as you began walking backward as he stayed silent, "Bad boy is baffled now, isn't he?"

The whispers are still happening, the acknowledgments....not so much. People really don't give a shit about girls who start scenes in the cafeteria, Mean Girls has ruined reality once again. This was fucking ridiculous! Actually, it was a lot like one of your books. Your Wattpad books to be exact, where the lonely girl meets bad boy and he fights her on the fact that she doesn't care about him, but in all reality, she just wants to live happily ever after with the douchebag.

You rolled your eyes at your thoughts as you doodled in your English notebook, 'Shawn Mendes is a leather jacket wearing piece of shit who is ruining my life', you wrote in it.

The person who sat next to you, Nicole Jensen, looked at your notebook with disgust as your eyes met with her glaring ones.

"Mind your own fucking business", you waved her off before closing your notebook and placing your head on your propped up elbow.

"Psst...", Jason Lopez, the guy who sits behind you, tapped your shoulder.

You turned your head in annoyance as he motioned to Shawn who was looking at your desperately. You rolled your eyes before mouthing, "Fuck off", and turning back around.

Five minutes later you felt something light, which you assumed was paper, come in contact with the back of your head. You ignored it and tried to pretend it wasn't there. Then it was a pencil, then it was a paper airplane, then it was a paper airplane with a pencil in it, then it was a fucking rectangular eraser.

You let out a loud huff before grabbing the eraser and turning it over to reveal in somewhat neat handwriting, "Princess?"

You turned your head to reveal a sad Shawn looking out the window, avoiding your gaze. You fought the urge to go through with your next move, were you seriously about to do this? You hesitantly wrote what you needed to on the eraser before tossing it back and returning your gaze to the teacher.

How did you let him take over you so fast? Why did you not regret it? Who the hell was this kid?

Your thoughts were interrupted with a buzz coming from your pocket. Shit! He did what you thought he was gonna do.

You slowly unlocked your phone and opened the text:

My stupid kiss, stupid leather jacket, stupid messy hair, and stupid self, says hi....princess ;)

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawnmendesfanfic #shawnmendesimagines #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #badboy!shawn #writing #bad boy

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iamwhelmed · 7 years

Text

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 2

This update is a little early, but I was looking through the outline and Chapter 3 might be more of a hassle so I’ll need more time to focus on it lol

Besides, this is where the story actually gets started >:D

It’s also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net!

Summary: With Isaac gone and Ed sent away to train, the club struggles to find some sense of normalcy, but so do Suzy and Collin-- and the rest of the school; the monster attack on Mayview Middle has some interesting consequences. Isaac, meanwhile, struggles to atone for betraying his loved ones, and the mission is not without difficulty and pain, not that he was expecting any less. It's just more than he counted on.

She'd turned the radio on in the background, just to listen to it as she practiced her spec shots. The noise was nice, distracted her from the way her shots hit the mark and echoed in the training area. It wasn't supposed to be so quiet. Everything-- everything-- had been too quiet lately.

She was only hardly aware of her grandfather's shift into the room, only knew because there was no feeling more grating than his eyes scrutinizing her every move. She wanted to blame her irritation on him, blame it all on how he threw off her game, her concentration. She took another shot as the last words of a current Top 10 track faded out, stopping momentarily until the DJ realized he had dead air and fixed it.

"Oh! Aaand there we have it! Gee-Man's Miss You Girl, as requested! Now, Josie, we have any weekend updates?"

"You bet we do!" A woman's voice, though chipper and bubbly, was mature and somehow mellow, not as grating as Isabel had been anticipating. "There are reports of accidents on 45 and Mayview Way, so if you're aiming to get out of the city, South is probably going to be your best bet." Isabel huffed and raised her fingers again, aiming at a target to her right, where her grandfather wasn't standing and seething with complaints and critiques. "Dannis Gibbsy is engaged to Laurel Con-- I mean, we all saw it coming after that season finale, but still." She couldn't quite find the mark, and it seemed the more she concentrated, the less certain her shot felt. She grimaced, tightening her posture and straightening up, telling herself again and again to just take the stupid shot. "And as for missing child Isaac O'Connor, police are yet to find any trace. If you have information please call in at--" Her lip curled. "His picture is up on our website. If you think you've seen Isaac O'Connor, once again, call-"

The shot hit the target by the bullseye, and blew it all up in a pit of red aura, like flame and electricity-- like a surge of power. She might have screamed when she let the shot go, and that might have been the cause of the twitch-- very slight, gone the next moment-- in her grandfather's eye. Isabel wiped away at the sweat along her forehead, and Master Guerra took a step closer. He was laughing, that genuine belly laugh that used to make Isabel giggle because it was such a happy sound; it annoyed her, now. "Very well, Isabel! Job well done! You must be training hard!"

She glanced at him from the side with lidded eyes, not even bothering to turn her head, as her wrist wiped the sweat from the edge of her face. "Yeah," he watched her as she straightened up and turned for the stairs, grabbing the towel she'd brought down and slinging it over her shoulders. She needed a shower, some soup, and a move she could turn on while she lounged around and ate chips for the remainder of the day. "Maybe."

Isabel sighed and ran the fresh towel through her hair, humming as she padded into her room, shutting the door behind her with the heel of her foot. The hot water had been soothing against her sore muscles, and perhaps even more soothing against whatever mood had been boiling in her before. Irritation had become a friend of hers lately, one that visited unannounced and stuck around until she did something, anything, to kick it from her system until the next day; usually this meant training overtime. It was all she could do to stay sane, not blow up on Max or Dimitri or Ed or even Mister Spender. She'd been overly sensitive (for her, anyway), she knew it, she just didn't know why.

Isabel ran the towel over the roots of her hair, lips coming together to smile as she tilted her head back and enjoyed the feel of her nails massaging her scalp. She'd needed that.

Now to just figure out what she wanted to watch…

The familiar ring of her cellphone and the resulting vibration from her nightstand made her head whip around, eyebrow raising, smile forming, as she crossed her room to get to it, leaving her towel to hit the floor (she'd hang it up later). She almost hoped it was a mission, or maybe some kind of investigation job. She could use the fresh air.

Isabel grabbed the phone and snapped it open with one flick of her wrist, bringing it to her ear without looking at the number. "Hello?"

"What's up, my Iz-dog?"

She snorted. "Ed!" She raised a hand to stifle the little bit of surprised laughter, but she was sure he heard it anyway. "Hey! What's up?"

"Waiting around for training to start. Homeschool is not as fun as you'd think it would be. Not a single one of my teachers let me wear pajamas to class, and only one let me go back to bed when I was done with my work," She snorted again, but let the her laughter run free so he could hear it. He probably wanted to, was probably trying to make her laugh "and that was only because I accidentally threw a paper airplane at their eye."

"Ed."

"It wasn't my fault! Once those things are out of your hand, they are out of your hand. I had no idea a paper airplane would become an issue of class safety and not conduct."

She shook her head and plopped down on the side of her bed, leaning back to rest her hand on the other edge of her twin. "Any clue when you're coming to visit?"

"Uh," she could imagine him leaning against the wall of Master Hashimoto's training room, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, head lulling to the side the way it always did when he was tired. She was willing to bet he had less energy than before, now that he was actually putting effort into his training. She wondered if he had time to play video games anymore, now that he didn't have to go to and from Hashimoto's and Guerra's an hour both ways. He always had enough time to call her-- once a day, no less. She was thankful, though she would have preferred seeing him in person. "Not sure! But I'm aiming to visit next weekend!"

"Really?" She shot up, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. That was too excited, too happy, too much. Her cheeks burned, but she kept her lips shut like she'd glued them. As much as she trusted Ed, as much as she knew he was a safe place and he would never, ever make fun of her… Isabel sighed and fell back against her comforter, a smile inching across her lips. "That's great! You know, you should bring your console back for the weekend. We never did beat that boss from-"

"Yeah!" He sounded as ecstatic as she felt, and it was a giddiness and a lightness she hadn't been accustomed to in a long time, enough that it unnerved her. "So, what's been up over there?"

She snickered. "Oh, I am so glad you asked…"

Isaac's phone was probably long dead by now. Max knew this.

It didn't stop him from staring at Isaac's contact information, squinting at it, hoping not-quite-consciously that there'd be some hint to go off of, some huge clue he was missing that could lead them right to him. There wasn't. Max shut his phone and let the hand hang leisurely over the side, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the urge to get up or go to sleep or something to hit him. All that came was unease, the sense that something was horribly, horribly wrong. It'd been that way since Isaac skipped town, but he'd managed to quash the feeling most of the day. It was just when nightfall came, and his dad was off doing whatever and Zoey was off doing something super-whatever, that he was left alone with his thoughts and that unease had a hand in all of them.

How was he eating? How was he drinking? Where did he sleep? Was he hurt?

Max groaned lifted his other forearm over his eyes, like blocking the light of his room would do anything. Those thoughts weren't daylight or nightlight manifestations and he knew it. They were always there, had been for the last month, beating on the back of his mind the way an annoying remix of a good song would stick with him.

And it all stemmed from the sinking feeling he had when he ran up the steps to that abandoned home and found only Doorman there.

I hurt Dimitri, could have hurt all of you, too.

I wanted you to hate me. I thought it was the only way to get you all to see me as something other than the club mascot…

Because I couldn't take the blame like I should have, I stepped way out of line and broke my own oath. Well, now I'm ready.

Max grinded his teeth, hand thrown across her face clenching.

I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for keeping me around while you did.

He rolled over to his side, making the decision to pass out before the unsettled hole is his stomach got any worse.

Meditating had gotten easier, way easier. He could balance without trouble nowadays, and Master Hashimoto rarely had to step in and readjust his limbs so that he was working his core more. He walked with a straight back more often than he slumped, and slept easier, too. The only issue laid with his concentration-- it ran from him and often times he felt like a hunter down on his luck. Some days were better than others, but the last week had been… particularly grueling. He tried to keep his mind on Isabel, on the lessons he'd learned since joining Hashimoto, but his mind would wander, and he'd start to feel agitated, and then--

Ed yelped as something hard and hollow knocked him upside the head, knocking him right off the plank of wood. He landed on his chin, legs up in the air, waving around as he struggled to catch up with reality. Ed winced and pressed the palms of his hands against the floor, pushing himself to sit up on his knees, then raised one hand to the sore spot at the back of his head. So much for being balanced. "Ow! Hey! What was that for?"

Master Hashimoto stood towering over him from behind, looking gruff with the scrunch of his mustache and the unamused, narrowed look of his eyes.

Ed pouted at him, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably. Hashimoto came around to stand in front of him, placing the cane before himself and setting either hand at the tip of its shiny knob.

"You would not have fallen had you not already been unbalanced." Ed exhaled and leaned back against the plank of wood, hands gripping at his calves. Hashimoto tilted his head. "I sense there is something troubling you."

"It's one of the other students." He knew better than to keep things from his master. At best it would delay the inevitable, and he didn't care to go through so many emotional hoops for the second time that year. "She said that I liked Izzy, like, like-liked her. I mean, that's ridiculous! I grew up with her! She's like a sister to me!"

Hashimoto hummed, fingers brushing against his long, flowing beard, which Ed often joked with the other students looked more like a well-groomed dog's tail- a show dog, the kind that got paraded around.

"Well, Ed, if you were confident in that, you wouldn't still be thinking about it."

No. Not him, too. Not even the freaking master!

Ed parted his lips to say something, but whatever was heating the blood under his cheeks was doing a good job of clogging his throat, too, and he dropped his pointed finger and clamped his mouth shut.

"Suzy."

"Hmm?"

"Maybe you should lay off on the tea" Collin said this as he poured her another cup.

Suzy took it in grateful hands, then tilted it up to take the smallest, innocent sip from its rim. It was black breakfast tea, her favorite, and she took it bitter more often than not, no cream or honey or even a small bag of splenda. "It's calming."

"It's caffeinated, just like coffee, and you've downed, like, ten mugs of it."

Suzy grunted and raised one hand to wave him off, which Collin granted with a roll of his eyes, retreating to the desk to set the eighth thermos down, mumbling to himself about the rush of energy he was awaiting with no great excitement. Suzy, on the other hand, was far more preoccupied with the taste, taking a moment each sip to roll the flavor on her tongue before taking another sip and repeating. She had to concentrate on that. Had to.

There was a knock at the door, and they both lifted their heads, momentarily distracted from the nothingness that was their schedule, and looked at it.

"Collin--"

"Already on it."

Suzy sighed and went back to sipping her tea. The journalism club hadn't gotten any visitors, not that she was surprised. Nobody had taken her up on her offers to publish their personal watched-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes story, and Collin had informed her multiple times on multiple occasions that they never would; though she'd been stubborn to admit it, Suzy had come around to admitting that Collin might have been right, and maybe people didn't want to relive that sort of thing for a school newspaper. She doubted it was a story at the door, and even if it was, the school didn't seem to be keeping up with club hours anymore-- not since the monster attack.

She took another sip, though she swallowed without tasting it first.

Collin opened the door and-- surprise, surprise-- Maxwell Puckett stood on the other side, one of Suzy's posters, the ones for Isaac, in hand, and held it up to his face. She blinked. "Hey, Max."

"Hi, Suzy. Quick question." He wriggled the poster around, glancing over her curled form almost sardonically with a twitch in his eye. His posture was stiff, like he was sore and he was trying not to move too much or he'd hiss, and his fingers seemed to have long-since wrinkled the top edges of the poster- a sign he was gripping it tighter than need be. "What good is this doing, exactly?"

Suzy huffed and set the mug down, setting her feet, which had been curled with her in the chair, to the floor as she stood up, patting out her shorts. "Well, it's something."

Collin sighed and let Max in, shutting the door behind him with a narrowed, almost annoyed, look on his face. "Do yourself a favor and don't get her started on that."

"I already told you guys. He's not in Mayview anymore!"

"Well, do you have any better ideas?

"No! But wasting this much paper" Max shook the poster around for emphasis "probably isn't helping anyone!"

Suzy balled her fists, rage coiling in her, heat rushing to her face and her hands and her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, back, just to defend herself and what she was doing, but Collin slipped a hand over her lips; against her better judgement, she let him silence her. He sighed, and glanced between herself and Max until he was sure he had the attention of both. "Okay, how about we all just agree that these posters aren't really helping," he looked at her, and she leveled him with a glare "but it's all we can do" He looked to Max, who scowled and glanced to the floor, lips thin.

After a moment, Max's eyes met hers, and she saw an uncertainty where before she'd seen irritation, a lack of confidence she didn't think she'd ever seen in Maxwell Puckett before. Though he hid it well, his jaw clenched, and she could feel his aura looming over them, even if she couldn't see it. It was an itch. His eyes drifted downward, to the poster in his hand, then to the floor again, and her eyes did the same. Collin lifted his hand from her mouth, and she mumbled. "How is Dimitri doing?"

Max blinked, eyes wider for a second as though surprised, but a small smile found its way to his face, even if it wasn't as genuine as he might've liked her to believe. "He's doing all right! He's fitting into the club like a glove!"

Suzy nodded and excused herself for a moment to get more hot, bitter tea.

Mayview was as sunny as she remembered it, though she'd always preferred it when the city was cold and overcast in the nigh of winter. Sometimes, when she had a moment to herself, she'd visit, like so. After all, she'd spent a great many years calling it home.

It was the place she hated most.

She brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, breathing in the scent of fall, which still smelled as she remembered it for Mayview-- Pumpkin, a few days closer to expiration than one usually preferred, alongside the dull spices and the staleness of the cold air that'd always swept her into dreaming of snow days, though she knew they were months away. It was a feeling she'd known intimately for other reasons as of late, the anticipation of something coming, the drive that'd been motivating her so long.

Then the sight of Mayview from the tallest hill faded, and she found with no sense of distress that the world around her had become clustered with holes in the sky in shades of deep blues and purples and tears in shades of black only she knew existed.

"Catriona."

She hummed, but did not turn her head.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a toned chest where she could feel a familiar heartbeat against the hammering of her own. "Something is bothering you, my love."

"Whether they're willing or not" she frowned and nibbled at her bottom lip "I simply can't find it in myself to kill these spirits for the sake of our mission."

He hummed, sound similar to her own in its sweetness but deeper in its rumble. "It is for the greater good, you must remember that. They see the way you and I do." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and a treacherous smile found her. "Though, I'd find it hard to believe anyone may resist you."

"Emmerich, you flatter me." She twisted in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and leaning into him. He was tall, taller than many men, though he stood like one, with claws round but sharp on each finger. His skin, though splotched with the same shades as his universe, was soft and felt as human as her own. She ran her hands over his head, one hand using its fingers to weave through the silk that was his cyan hair, wrapped in a horse tail. He smiled at her, and her eyes glossed over his black teeth. "We've already failed our first mission, what is to stop us from failing again?"

"Experience, my love" His hands squeezed her hips, a physical affirmation "and we did not fail. It may take more than one attempt, but it will be done."

She leaned up, and he leaned down, and she pressed her lips to his. There was no caution, no exploration- he was a part of her, and they knew each other better than anyone else.

Isaac winced as he laid down across another bus stop in what should have been another neighborhood. He was moving slowly, but that wasn't a problem when he had no destination. What is a problem is this cut on my arm. That spirit really took a swing at me. He glanced down at it, wincing as he took in the cold sting of blood, dying the material of his shirt a deep red. It'd stopped running a good hour ago, but it still stung like nothing he'd had before, and he'd have a hard time sleeping with it.

What was there to do about it?" He cautiously ran a finger over the wound, and hissed when the stinging multiplied. He'd have to steal bandages from somewhere. But where? A hospital? He couldn't do that! Other people, possibly worse off than him, needed those bandages and needed that ointment, and he couldn't very well walk into the clinic. That came with a mass of questions he wouldn't be able to answer, or even begin to think about answering. Isaac sighed and leaned upwards. He'd just have to figure it out come the morning.

Cheesesteak subs were a gift from God to men, and there were few things Spender was so vehemently convinced of. Day seemed equally as enthralled with her food, and she chomped more than happily into their late lunch-- his treat. It was a shame the meeting wasn't under less dire circumstances. Though each bite of his food was delicious, there was a sour taste to the back of his throat. Of course there would be something wrong, something he'd have to fix, and it would take time to figure out just how to go about doing that-- which wouldn't have been so bad, had he ever been in Time's favor. Day looked up, and he met her with a smile, though he knew she couldn't see it.

"So, Mister Spender, have you found that missing student of yours yet?"

He paused before taking another bite, licking his lips because they suddenly felt dry, and sighed. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."

Day paused in her bite, too, a small frown forming on her face. Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine." It wasn't. "Have you made any progress in your research? I know you've finished interviewing the student body recently. Did you find anything worth noting?" Perhaps it was too cut and dry, too to-the-point, but he needed to-- had to-- change the subject.

She blinked, and for a moment he thought he'd been too forward. Day's head tilted, and then she chomped into her sub, chewed, and swallowed hard before fixing him with a smile. "You trust me to be truthful?"

"Well, it's my school. I'll be finding out regardless."

"Yes, I suppose that's true! Hm hm!" She giggled and set her food down, using the napkin she'd set in her lap to wipe excess grease from her hands. "Especially with the magnitude of my findings."

His heart dropped. He'd been expecting something, of course, but he hadn't anticipated… well, something of great consequence. What could she have possibly gotten from a bunch of students scared senseless? "Oh? What did you find?"

"Well, the entire school, including your peers, Mister Spender, is traumatized."

Was that all? He exhaled, expelling all of the tension that'd strung up his neck and shoulders, let himself relax. "Oh, well, while that isn't good, it is what I expected. Trauma or not, we're going to have to come up with a really good excuse to explain why those things attacked our school" he looked to his sub, fingers tapping along the bun on either side "and what they were."

Day continued to smile at him, setting the napkin onto the table and leaning forward. "I'm afraid you won't have to make excuses, Mister Spender. We're well past that, unfortunately." He looked back to her, then, eyebrows furrowed, lips parting to ask for clarification. She set her chin in her hands, still, somehow, smiling even as the importance of her words hung over him, potentially like a guillotine. "From my findings, I've concluded that 70-80% of Mayview Middle have begun exhibiting early signs of paranatural ability."

#Paranatural #Isabel Guerra #Edward Burger #Maxwell Puckett #Isaac O'Connor #Richard Spender #Agent Day #maxaac #edsabel #pnat #The Monster Trilogy #WOHT

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minnuet-archive · 5 years

Text

Ink

(This is probably stupid and shitty because I wrote it, like, in the fourth grade or some shit.)

I got off the plane. It was like a sea of robots, all waiting, checking their electronics, most not talking, but the few that were, were talking on their phones or about money and business. I frowned, and then saw a girl that looked nice. I checked my watch. It was 11:59 pm. The girl walked over and said something that I thought was her introducing herself as Sofrina. “Hola, mi nombre es Sonia.” I replied. She looked at me, a bit confused, but not quite hopeless that she could understand what I was saying. Then, my mother pulled me by the arm and scolded me for talking to strangers. I apologized. Then, I herd a faint voice saying it was time to go. It sounded like my mother, but the words weren’t coming out of her mouth.

Suddenly, I was in my room with my mother shaking me awake. “Estas son tus ropas. Venga a desayunar, luego prepárese para su primer día de escuela.” she said. I sat up in bed and blinked the dream away. I was now excited. I had applied for a program called DACA so I could go to school in the United States. To apply though, I had to be 15 or younger. The night I had arrived, I had been one minute away from turning 16. I got my clothes on, ate my breakfast of bread with honey, and got ready for school like my mother instructed.

I took a deep breath and walked into the school. As I walked through the halls, people looked at me and muttered things to each other. I kept walking and looking around until I bumped into a girl. I turned around and apologized, looking down at my shoes. Then, I looked up at her face. I instantly recognized her as the girl from the airport, Sofrina. By reading her face, I saw that she recognized me as well somehow. I was very good at reading faces. Most of the time I could guess what people were saying by the movement of their lips or the shape of their eyes. She tried her best to speak in Spanish and asked me something. When I told her I needed help finding my classroom, she didn’t understand, but realized what I meant when I pulled out my schedule.

She walked me to the classroom. I walked in behind her and went to the teacher’s desk. I asked her, “¿Dónde debería sentarme?” She held up her pointer finger, typed something into the computer, smiled and pointed to the seat next to Sofrina’s. I smiled back and thanked her, then sat down in my seat. I opened my binder, wove my fingers together, put them on my desk and grinned, waiting for the teacher to speak. Other people snickered and threw paper airplanes.

The day went by quickly with each teacher telling me to copy Sofrina’s work and try to talk to her about it, since I was sitting next to her in every class. I asked Sofrina if she knew any Spanish. She frowned at first, but then the ends of her lips turn upward into a slight grin. She waved goodbye and I waved back. She then walked away. I jumped on my bike and rode back home.

When I got home, I went to my room and started my homework. I struggled with it since I had to write in English. About an hour later, my mother walked in on me closing up my binder and said that dinner was ready.

I sat down at the dinner table and looked at my plate. I had a cheese enchilada with avocado, rice, and beans. My favorite. My mother asked what school was like. I told her that the day had been pretty uneventful, except for that the Sofrina, from the airport, goes to my school. Once I was excused from the dinner table, I got ready for bed and fell asleep.

The next morning, I sat up in bed. I grinned. Today was going to be a good day. I just knew it. I walked out the door and got on my bike. When I got to school, Sofrina was standing at the front gate.

“¿Que tal fue tu noche?” she asked. I was quite surprised. I responded that the rest of my day was good. She grinned and handed me something wrapped in a beautiful green tissue paper with a lavender ribbon. I opened it and I saw a book. I looked at the cover. It was a Spanish to English dictionary. I smiled and read the note on the inside cover. She had written a Spanish and English version of it. She also got herself an English to Spanish dictionary so that we could talk. We went to our first class and it was much easier to do classwork.

When we got to our writing class, the teacher assigned a writing project. She had us get Chromebooks from a cart in the back of the class. At this news, I frowned. The teacher asked Sofrina what was wrong, and she asked me the same thing in Spanish. I told her that I hated computers. I like typewriters much more. When you are using a typewriter, you have to think about what you’re going to write, because if you mess up, you can’t just press delete. Sofrina translated and the teacher frowned. She talked to Sofrina and Sofrina said that I could use a typewriter, if I brought it from home. I frowned again. I didn’t have one. I told Sofrina that, and she translated. The teacher said I could write for now, until I figured it out.

The day went by fast. When I got home, I talked to my mother about getting a typewriter. I told her I would buy it with the money I earned in Mexico and the first few weeks here. She said ok, so I got my shoes on as she grabbed her purse. She asked me where I wanted to go and I said that there was a pawnshop on the way to my school that had a beautiful typewriter in the window. As we walked, I told her about Sofrina. Earlier in the day, I had gotten Sofrina’s number. I asked if I could go to her house tomorrow, so she could help me learn some more English. My mother said yes. We walked into the pawnshop and I went to the counter. I looked at the words I had copied out of my Spanish to English dictionary and asked if they still had the typewriter that had been in the window a day ago. The person at the counter smiled and nodded then, then walked into the back door. When he came out, he was holding a typewriter. I pressed a key. It was a bit rusty, but it worked.

When I got to school the next morning, I went straight to my language arts class. I still had a few oil smudges on my cheeks from oiling and fixing my typewriter. I sat in the middle of class, typing away at my story. The teacher had insisted that I write in Spanish, but I had refused, hoping to learn some new words. Every time I thought of a word I didn’t know or even just doubted myself, I would check in my dictionary. My next class was art. I instantly took out my typewriter and got the paint from the middle of the table. I took my story out and put it into my bag delicately. I painted the typewriter turquoise, but painted the keys gold. On the back, I painted a book with a lavender cover and handmade paper, the kind I would make with my art teacher when we were in Mexico. I smiled sadly. I missed my art teacher so much. We would paint clay pots together and she would walk me home after class. When I was done, we had 15 minutes left, so I painted black and white pandas on the two sides. I love pandas. I smiled at my work.

The bell rang. I walked out to lunch with Sofrina. When we got to our normal spot, a place behind the 9th grade classrooms under a tree, she asked me to take out my typewriter. I put a new piece of paper in it. She told me a sentence in Spanish and asked me to type it in English without using my dictionary. I got through 2 sentences before I made a mistake. She asked me to type out another sentence. She kept asking me to do it again, until finally, I got 7 sentences done without making a mistake. She grinned widely and hugged me. She then told me she had a challenge. She asked me to say it in English. I gulped. I spoke very slowly. “My name is Sonia. I am 16 and go to school at Solar High in Maine. I love to write, but don’t know English very well yet. I also love art and I don’t use computers unless I have to. This is a practice and Sofrina helped me rehearse.” She smiled and I smiled. I knew some English.

The rest of the day, I streamed sentences of English. I had never told anyone this, but I really wanted to be an author in the U.S.

When the end of school came along, I ran home and told my parents about today. They smiled, congratulated, and hugged me. I went back to my room and tried writing a short story in English. I stopped writing and took out a new ink cartridge for my typewriter. When I was about to put it in, I stopped, brought it up to my eye level and smiled. My hopes, dreams, and future were all within reach.

#queerandimmortal #typewriter #learning languages #new school #new friends #writing #spanish #DACA #mine

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the-letter-e · 7 years

Text

Missing You and You Only

“I’m glad you could make it,” Ethan rasped, his voice groggy from the morning and arising from the dead of sleep. Truthfully, he hadn’t had that peaceful of a sleep in a long time, more specifically, in a couple months -since the last time he was home with you.

Peering through the blinds was a harsh burn of the Los Angeles sun, which you’d woken up to way too early for how jet-lagged you were. Maybe it wasn’t the sting of light coming through the window and lighting the entire room that stirred you from sleep, maybe it was your boyfriend whose naked body clung to yours, legs intertwined, a heavy arm draped over your waist, sticky from a few rounds of love making a mere five hours earlier.

You weren’t sure how the time slipped away from each of you or how you’d gone so long without seeing him. Ethan and Grayson were spending more time in Los Angeles, the city of stars, and that was okay you thought, because they were stars. Two of the brightest.

Knowing Ethan had his hands full filming and exploring the many opportunities he had in store for himself, you begged and begged and begged your parents to let you fly out to LA. It was a challenge, however, and you had to use your best persuasion tactics, telling your mom that you’d incorporate the sight seeing into the environmental science paper you had to write for Monday and promising to call at least 3 times a day. You basically had an entire PowerPoint prepared in case things went south, ready to put on some teacher glasses and whip out a meter stick, but after awhile, they came around. Not easily, but they did.

Your parents didn’t really understand why Ethan and Grayson lived in New Jersey, but also lived in California. They didn’t understand social media or how it worked or what it was all about. They usually stared at you blankly with furrowed brows when you’d explain with excitement how they were basically the Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio of YouTube.

They didn’t get it.

What they did understand, was that you were young and in love. They could see it, clear as day, that you were head over heals for the boy who broke your blue crayon in the second grade and who once, in the fourth grade, tied the class bully’s shoelaces together for calling you ugly after a brutal haircut you endured when Cindy got bubblegum stuck in it. The boy who picked on you when you got braces, yet he had braces of his own. The boy who asked you to prom even when he no longer went to school himself by ordering the biggest pineapple pizza you’d ever seen with “I know this is cheesy, but will you go to prom with me,” written inside the box. You were low key mad that Ethan picked a night you weren’t wearing makeup, but it was a total Ethan move and you were glad it wasn’t pancakes.

You’d have to be blind, or at least somewhat of a horrible parent, to not notice the way you sang in the shower or danced through the halls of your home after a movie date with the boy with the weird, purple hair. Your mother was always there to put back the pieces when you and Ethan broke up, which happened more times than you’d like to admit, but she was also there to share in your happiness when you got back together, the way you always did.

All of this in consideration, they agreed to let you fly to see him, but only for the weekend. You nearly cried pulling them into bear hugs because one weekend was one weekend more than you thought you’d ever get. And if everything went smoothly, maybe they’d let you go more often.

Ethan answered your FaceTime that night with a shaky hand, not able to say hello before he saw the wide smile on his girlfriend’s face and the slight sparkle in her eyes. His heart was fluttering against the inside of his chest as you explained to him that your parents were all in, even offering to pay for the trip, which was a bonus because you were planning to use what little money you saved babysitting, working as a lifeguard in the summer, and dog walking, although Ethan insisted you not waste a dime.

As soon as the final bell rang on Friday afternoon at a school that felt a little more empty ever since your favorite pair of twins left it, you scattered to your locker quicker than usual, which is saying a lot considering you all but run out of the building on any average day. Stuffing books and notebooks into your backpack, slinging on a jacket, and slamming your locker shut was all it took before you raced home to your waiting suitcase and mother who was driving you to the airport.

Sitting in the passenger seat, with your legs crossed, you halfway listened to your mother speak into your ear, the other being occupied by headphones. The butterflies in your stomach were basically procreating until you were all but consumed by them. Leaning forward, you flicked the seat warmer on, hoping the heat would help calm your nerves.

“Remember to check in with your father and me.”

You started cracking your knuckles, a nervous habit. “I will, don’t worry.”

You wouldn’t dare do anything that could potentially jeopardize the chance of seeing Ethan again.

“No drugs, not booze, no gangs, okay?” Your mother spoke, keeping both hands at ten and two. “And please, please no sex. You are unsupervised in a big city, hunny, stay out of trouble.”

You quickly rolled your eyes while she continued to stare at the road. “None of that mom, I promise. I’ll be good.”

You had to lie a little, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

“Okay, because I spoke with Lisa and she knows you’re staying at the apartment this weekend. She’s keeping Ethan under a watchful eye, okay? We moms have eyes everywhere, so no funny business.” She said, wagging a finger.

“Yes, mom! I get it,” you exclaimed, growing more and more annoyed. “It’ll all be fine. I promise.”

She threw her hands up in defense quickly before placing them back on the wheel. “Okay, I trust you guys, I just worry.” Then she turned to you with a small smile. “How you feeling? Do you have butterflies yet?”

You nod, a nervous smile playing back at her. “So many, mom.”

“Is that his sweatshirt you’ve got on?”

It was your favorite sweatshirt of his that you stole, but you weren’t too sure if he even noticed it was missing. That was something you did often, especially now that it was rare that you were home together. It started with a couple of his cuttoffs, hell you still had one of his from middle school from the first time you were official, then eventually your habit turned into an obsession -hats, watches, sweatshirts and sweatpants, but most of all, flannels. You took and took and took and sometimes you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

The best part was that Ethan didn’t really care, in fact, he loved that you kept little pieces of him with you. By now, he knows that if you leave his place wearing one of his shirts and tuck the one you were previously wearing into your purse, he wasn’t getting it back. He’d poke fun at you for it, but it made his heart happy.

“Yes,” you giggled, stuffing your hands into the front pocket. “It still smells like him a little.

She laughed with you, a little blush forming on her cheeks. “You sure do miss that boy, don’t you?”

You wanted to scream it at the tops of your lungs until it hurt, or cry for no reason until he was standing in front of you. Ethan was your favorite part of every day, whether he was laughing through a screen or kissing you in person.

“More than you know,” you breathed, every bone in your body aching for him.

She reached over and placed her delicate, loving hand on your leg, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then I’m so happy you’re doing this. I know everything with you and Ethan hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but it’s so great to see you making an effort. I mean, how many other teenage girls do you know would fly across the country just to see their boyfriend for two days?”

You forced a laugh so you wouldn’t start crying. Your nerves were making you pretty emotional and it wasn’t every day your mom got real with you. Staring out the window, you realized she was right. You couldn’t name anyone else who would do that, but then again, you and Ethan were your own species of people.

“I hope he knows he’s very lucky to have you.”

“I’m pretty lucky, too, mom,” you blushed, tucking yourself deeper into his sweatshirt.

You tried to sleep on the plane, but you weren’t lucky enough to score a window seat and what little luck you need to get an aisle seat, you didn’t have either. Instead, you were crammed between a mother and her crying infant, and man who smelled like pork sausages. Not to mention, the plane went through turbulence what felt like every ten minutes.

You urgently put in headphones, blared some music, and flipped through pictures on your phone, pretending the sausage man’s head wasn’t slowly falling towards your shoulder as he snored away into a dreamland you should be in as well. Since it was about a five and a half hour flight and the clock was behind in California, it would be about 10:30pm when you landed.

10:30 turned into 11:13, but none the less, when you sluggishly wheeled your suitcase behind you through the airport, with tired eyes you searched for Ethan. There were a lot of people and it became almost impossible to spot him, although you were positive his whiskey colored eyes and purple strand of hair would always stand out in a crowd.

You sent him a quick text, but your phone was still adjusting from being set to airplane mode for so long. You yawned, approaching a vending machine before sticking a crinkled dollar bill into the slot. It shot back out at you, causing you to groan, and before you could grab it, two fingers plucked it out from under you.

Your eyes lit up when you looked up at the face next to you. The hairs on your arms stood up and goosebumps escalated throughout your skin, starting from head to toe. It seems you found him when you were no longer searching.

“Save your dollar,” he spoke, opening your palm and placing it in your hand. You noticed the stubble growing around his jaw. Damn, his jaw. “I have a shit load of candy in the car you can eat. You name it, I got it.”

“E,” you breathed, feeling the lump in your throat start to form, the burn behind your eyes causing them to glaze over.

He smiled back at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of the messy bun on top of your head. “Hey, Giggles.”

With the mention of his favorite nickname for you, you were putty in his hands. Ethan easily scooped you up, gripping you tightly to him as your arms clung around his neck. He sighed into you, taking a big whiff of you in to savor in his lungs, the smell of your watermelon shampoo and the familiar scent of his own cologne on your clothes.

“Nice sweatshirt,” he told you, setting you back on your feet and swiping a tear off your cheek. “Where’d you get it?”

You laughed, still sniffling back some tears. “Shut up.”

“I missed your laugh.” He leaned in, staring at your lips.

You cupped the space by his neck, your thumb grazing his cheek, before kissing him, your lips fitting together like honey to a bee.

“God, I missed this,” you spoke into his lips. Pecking his lips a few more times and then a few more times, and then a few more times after that.

The drive to Ethan’s apartment was peaceful. It was getting pretty cold in New Jersey, but California was perfect. It was warm but the the breeze you were touching outside the window was a nice mix between temperatures. A summer breeze in the dead of November.

You stared out the windshield in aw, leaning forward to stare up at the brightly lit skyscrapers that danced down every road Ethan turned onto. He’d had this apartment for a while now, yet this was the first time you’d ever been here. Your nerves turned into excitement. Excitement for Ethan who got to live in such a beautiful, fun place with his best friend. They had the world in their hands and now, even though just for the weekend, you got to be a part of that.

“This is so beautiful,” you spoke in admiration.

A smile pulled at the corner of Ethan’s lips while he slid his right hand off the wheel and into your lap, tangling your fingers together. The majority of the drive was silent while you admired your surroundings, loud music playing through the speakers, and every so often he’d draw your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles.

Ethan struggled to unlock the door with you sucking tender love bites to his neck with your arms wrapped under his arms to lightly scratch at his chest with your fingernails. And you chuckled. When he groaned, it only spurred you on more.

Finally, he managed to get you two inside, throwing his keys on the counter. You didn’t see him take his shoes off, but you stayed near the door while he turned the light on to slip out of yours, trying to be polite.

“Where’s Grayson?” You asked.

Ethan laughed, opening the fridge to grab two water bottles. You took it from him when he offered with an extended hand. “Sleeping. It’s half past midnight, babe.”

You forgot all about being tired, so your eyes bugged out when you checked the time glowing green on the stove. In your head, it was about three in the morning. Twisting the cap, you drank a few gulps of water. It felt nice.

“You must be exhausted,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders to guide you down the hall, wheeling your suitcase behind the two of you with his other hand. “My bathroom is right here if you need it or if you wanna shower. Or you know, we could have a shower maybe?” He offered, wiggling his eyebrows as he gestured towards the door.

You were too enthralled with the apartment to react to his comment. It was a total Ethan and Grayson apartment, and sure, it could totally use your special touch of decorating skills, but it was theirs and only theirs, and that was something really special.

“You each have your own bathrooms?” You gawked.

“Grayson’s has a bathtub.”

You both erupt into a sea of laughter as he opens the door to his bedroom. The first thing you notice is a framed picture of you and him on his desk. It was taken the time you went to the local carnival and a goat ate three dollars out of Ethan’s pocket at the petting zoo. The two of you were smiling into the camera, the sunset in front of you casting a tan glow to each of yours skin.

Sitting down on the bed to take his shoes off, Ethan mumbled, “That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.”

Your fingers trailed down the frame, ghosting down the sides and into the divot where a chip lies on the corner. “We don’t take enough.”

“We can while you’re here,” he took your arm, pulling you over to sit on his lap, your knees placed on either side of him. “I plan on giving you the grand tour tomorrow. Show you some of my favorite spots here.”

You leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss. “Can’t wait.”

He didn’t feel like any kiss was going to be enough, so he kissed you deep and slow and pulled you even closer to him. He knew he missed you with every fiber of his being, but he had a lot of distractions to settle him. He had his brother to make laugh and the fans and the videos, but he didn’t realize that spot in his heart that was solely reserved for you was hurting so much until you were straddling him on his bed, in an apartment he’d never shared with you quite yet.

It was odd, how long you could spend apart, yet you could both so effortlessly mend together again, like two sides of the same coin.

A tiny piece inside Ethan was driven off the edge when you bit down on his bottom lip, nails digging into the back of his neck. A low, almost inaudible growl erupted from the back of his throat, but you heard it, heat rising to your cheeks. You kissed along his jaw and you thought you could really get used to the scruff grazing against your lips.

His hands were exploring the area that was underneath your shirt, he had stripped you of his sweatshirt long ago by now, tossing it aside. Slowly but surely he began to lift the fabric upwards, pulling it through your arms and head, fully exposing your chest to him.

“No bra?” He questioned, not really caring for an answer before running his thumbs over the tips of your nipples, making you bear down on him a little harder. The soft grind of your hips left him sighing.

When his tongue glided along your chest, you took the opportunity to reach for the fabric on his back and pull it up towards his head. He helped to quicken the process, pulling himself out of it, reaching behind him. Your fingertips instinctively skimmed down his abs, tracing divot by divot by divot.

You moaned into his mouth when you felt how hard he was getting underneath you. You missed Ethan, his laugh, his smile, the way he ran a hand through his hair, the way he ran his hand through your hair, but god damn, you missed this, too.

He hooked a hand under your knee, shifting you towards the mattress. “Lay down,” he panted and you did as you were told while he stripped out of his own pants, dimming the lights to a much more comfortable setting. You giggled, skimming out of your leggings until you were completely bare, scooting up towards the headboard.

“Fuck,” Ethan groaned, stealing glances at you through hooded eyelids, fumbling to tear open a condom and slide it on. In seconds he was crawling over you, running a hand up your thigh until it was only moments away from where you wanted it most.

In between rough, sloppy kisses, you managed to squeak out a soft, “Ethan,” desperation evident in the sound of your voice.

“Hmm?” He teased, a smile tugging on his lips and you wanted to slap it off of him. It has been way too long for him to be teasing you, dangling his scent and his fingers and lips in your face just to take it away from you.

When he leaned down to kiss you again, you grabbed at his hand, pulling his finger to your mouth to glide down your tongue slowly, making eye contact with his hazy whisky orbs. He let you lead his hand back down to where it fit so perfectly between your thighs.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered lowly, finally touching you where you craved. You gasped as the tip of his finger lightly swirled over your clit. He sloppily laid kisses over you lips, neck, and down to your chest while you wrapped your legs around his waist. Breath heavy.

He kept a steady pace, circling and circling until the ripple of orgasm boiled in your stomach, approaching faster than you could say his name. A smile danced on his face when your toes curled, back arching off the mattress, nails digging into his skin. Your legs were shaking when you unhooked them from around Ethan and he massaged a hand over them, a proud look still on his face.

You hummed into his mouth, turning each of you over so you could crawl on top of him. Easily, your knees were straddling either side of his hips again and you could feel his hot breath on your shoulder when you planted kisses to the side of his neck. Ethan’s hands slipped around to your butt, guiding you down on him slowly. The tip went in and you pulled away, a sharp pain shooting straight through you.

“It’s been awhile,” you whispered. You placed your hands on his chest to angle yourself up a little bit better.

“Just go slow.”

You subconsciously nodded, inching down again, going at an unbearably slow pace. When you were completely sat down on top of him, you each sighed out at the familiar stretch and the way your walls clenched around him. You wished he could feel how wet you were for him.

Gradually, your pace picked up and you were bouncing up and down on him, knees sliding outward to grind closer and closer, creating friction. Every once in awhile you’d stop bouncing to slide forward and backwards and clockwise circles. The hair by his pubic bone lightly tangled with your clit, a cherry on top to this already delicious sundae cone.

“Shit, keep going,” Ethan hissed, biting his lip before sitting up so you were face to face with him. One of his hands found his way behind you again, edging you back and forth. He was so deep, you thought, and it only made you grind faster. Harder. “Come on.”

He knew you were close by the way your eyes glazed over with a light film of tears and your mouth fell open slightly. He loved to see you take charge and use him to get to where you wanted to be. It made him feel good when you felt good.

When your orgasm rippled through like ocean waves, you hugged your arms around Ethan’s neck, biting down at his shoulder. He thrust into you, letting you ride it out before turning you back on the mattress, hunger in his eyes when he stared down at you.

He wiped a tear that had fallen from you out of pleasure, then hooked one leg under his arm. It was easy for him to slide right back inside of you, and you jerked from how sensitive your last orgasm had made you. He started thrusting into you pretty slowly, knowing how tender you were.

“More, Ethan.” You begged, slapping a palm to his lower back repeatedly a few times.

He didn’t need to be told twice. If he was being honest, he could have come just by the sound of her voice. Soft, caught between a whisper. You locked your arms under his. With every thrust of his hips, you were surprised that you felt another orgasm bubbling inside of you. You usually never came without some sort of friction on the outside, like his finger or yours or the friction of you on top of him. So when you were anxiously clutching around him, Ethan’s eyes went dark with lust, lulling him to an orgasm of his own.

“Shit,” you clawed at Ethan, tears forming in your eyes again as you brought your hips to his, riding out the rest of this dizzy haze. “You feel so good,” you cried.

Ethan was so consumed by everything, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your breasts bouncing in time with his movements, the slight smell of sex in the air, and your climax leaving you breathless and shaking that he could only bring himself to kiss you while he spilled himself into the condom. You rocked your hips slowly to help get him along.

“I love you,”

You giggled, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Somehow you two managed to go at it a couple more rounds, lulling each other into sweet moments of bliss, satisfying one another’s needs and wishes. Ethan had to admit you were getting much better at communicating with him what you wanted. You’d come a long ways as lovers.

You hardly got any sleep, and wow, you hadn’t been this tired in a long time, but sleep didn’t seem as important as spending every waking minute you could with your magically delicious boyfriend. Sure he hogged all the blankets that night during the little sleep he did get, and the sound of his snoring could wake an entire neighborhood, but being alone with Ethan in his bed, in an apartment he had only just introduced to you, you felt more at home than you did in New Jersey without him.

“I’m glad too,” you said, tugging the sheet tighter to your body.

“You look really pretty this morning,” he said groggily, rolling onto his back with his arm out so you could easily find your place next to him.

“Love you, E.”

He planted a kiss to your temple, shutting his eyes once again. “Love you.”

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xopheliasunflowerx · 7 years

Text

Valentines Day (Stiles Stilinski Imagine)

Summary: Happy Valentines Day, your least favourite/favorite holiday! But don’t worry Stiles will make sure that’ll be your favourite/favorite day ever.

Pairing: Stiles X Reader

Warning: none

Song: Sabrina Carpenter - All We Have Is Love

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Season: Maybe Season 2 or season 3?

A:N: Sorry for the late update for Valentines Day but I quickly wrote this since I couldn’t think of anything on the actual day. But happy late Valentines Day!

~*~*~*~

Oh great, today is your least favourite/favorite holiday of them all, Valentines Day. Ew! You hated Valentine’s Day so much it makes you sick to your stomach. Well you have your ex boyfriend to blame, you went out and brought him some chocolates and sweets then all of a sudden he dumps you to go out with your cousin, who told you that she wouldn’t date him! Now every since then you hated the holiday.

So you walk down the halls of Beacon Hills seeing all of the couples smooching each other’s faces off, pink and purple heart shaped balloons written with I Love You or Be My Valentine. This just made you sick to your stomach, made you wanna gag.

That is until you see your locker, the locker covered in pink with heart shaped balloons surrounding it. This surprised you so much, but you felt nothing like you forgot everything that had happened to you. You walk closer to the balloons and open your locker to see that there was a heart shaped card that fell out of your locker. Confused as hell you picked up the heart shaped card and to be met with messy hand writing but continued to read it.

You blush as you bite down your lip. Your heart started to beat faster and faster as if it’d fly out of your chest. You close your locker and turned around to be faced with Lydia Martin, your best friend of course.

A smile reaches to her lips as you knew what she was about to say. Here we go.

“Naw! Does Y/N have a secret valentine admire? Here let me read it.” She said as you roll your eyes and handed her the note. Her eyes widen as she looks up at you. “I recognise/recognize this hand writing!” She said as you frown.

“So you know who this is? Great, is this a prank or for real?” You asked as she smirks giving back your love letter.

“Sorry Y/N, but it’s definitely for real.” She said as your eyes widen, you thought that this could’ve been a prank.

“How do you know that?“

"Because I know this person, and he likes you a lot. Just get ready for more gifts.” She said as she starts walking off leaving you stunned.

“More gifts?”

~*~*~*~

You sit down at your table for lunch as you began eating. Before you knew it a paper airplane lands on your table leaving you stunned. You turn around to see who threw it but you couldn’t spot anyone.

You pick up the paper airplane and open it to see a note written in it.

‘Why on earth is a beautiful girl like you sitting alone? You should be around models.’

You smile a bit as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. You shove the letter into your pocket and get up to go to your locker for your next class.

~*~*~*~

You sit in your english class where nothing barely happens. You sit with your hand supporting your jaw as you watch your teacher explain about techniques you use for to write things.

Before you knew it another paper airplane flies onto your desk. You frown once again and you turn around to see who threw it but no one looked suspicious enough. You then unfolded the paper airplane and read the messy hand writing.

‘English is such a dull subject, but with you in my sight you make everything much more better.’

You blush a bit but that gave you a hint of who this person is exactly. He’s right behind you. You turn around to face the boys who are behind you. You see Greenburg but he was looking at the bored, so not him. You see Jackson but nothing seems off with him, Scott seems to notice you and give you a sweet smile as you give him a smile back. Then you face Stiles who has a goofy smile on his face, he then looks up to face you but then he bites down his lip and blushes.

You and Stiles have been friends for almost two years. You met him while doing a project in science class and then failed the project because Stiles added something else and then it blew up. You still laugh about it to this day which feels like it was yesterday. He also happened to help you when your ex boyfriend dumped you for you cousin, he was there whenever you felt down or sad. You then started to develop feelings for him, but you knew that he liked Lydia. But could Stiles be the secret admire? You hoped so…

Then all of a sudden the bell rings meaning that the period is over. You quickly packed up your things and walked out of the classroom to go your locker.

You open your locker to see a red rose with a note attached to it. You smile widely as you picked up the rose to smell the rose. You smile happily and began to read the note.

‘The day is almost over, but my love for you will never end. Even if you don’t like me back.’

You then had an idea. You knew who it was, well hopefully and you want to tell him. So you went to find the boy that had you head over heels for.

~*~*~*~

“Do you think she liked them? What if it was too much things? What if she didn’t liked them? What if she figured out it was me and doesn’t like me back? Scott you made me do this and i’m blaming you for this!” Stiles said, panicking as he walks around in circles back and forth. Scott sighs as he looks at his best friend.

“Stiles calmed down! She loved them, trust me. In English when she looked at you, I heard her heart rate picked up.” Scott said as Stiles looked at him.

“Or it could’ve been mine!”

“Or maybe it was the both of you guys. I could feel the tension of love whenever you guys are around each other. Her heart picks up whenever she sees you or talks to you.” Scott said as Stiles sits down as his knee starts tapping.

“Seriously Stiles! It’s so obvious that she likes you and you like her! I can’t believe that you both haven’t noticed yet!” Lydia snaps as Stiles inhales a deep breath and looks up at her.

“Is it that noticeable?” He asked as Lydia and Scott sighs angrily.

“YES!”

“Go and talk to her about your feelings before I grab your ear and drag you to her house and make you confess to her!” Lydia threatens him and he immediately nods as he gets up.

“Oh would you look at the time, I’m pretty sure that Y/N would be doing soccer practice.” Stiles said as Scott frowns in confusion.

“Does Y/N even do soccer practice?” Scott asked as Lydia shakes her head.

“No she doesn’t, Stiles she’s at home go now before I count to three.” Lydia said as she holds up three fingers counting.

“Th-.” Before she could finish Stiles was already gone.

~*~*~*~

You are in your room listening to music and doing your homework. Since your parents are out for date night since it’s valentines day, and your brother Danny with his boyfriend Ethan on a date, all there was left was you having no one for the holiday.

But that’s fine, you knew that he would come and pick you up? But you thought that it was just a silly thing to think about.

But you never knew that it was ever actually gonna happen right now.

You hear something thrown at your window, you look over at your window curiously.

“Maybe it’s just the wind?” You told yourself and continued with homework. Until you heard it again. But you happened to see it this time, the object that was thrown at your window happened to look like a banana? Now your confused.

You walk to your window to see Stiles and an flying apple almost hitting you in the face.

“Stiles what are you doing?” You asked as he smiles nervously at you.

“I need to tell you something!” He shouts as you sigh crossing your arms.

“Can’t you tell me tomorrow?” You asked as he shakes his head.

“No! I need to tell you now! Those valentines gifts that you got today, they were from me! Those hand written notes that you got, were also from me! And them things I said in them, they’re true, all of them are true! You make my heart beat rise every time I see you. You make me so nervous whenever I’m around you. You make me fall over stairs because I don’t focus on where I’m stepping, I’m focus on you. I know that you might not like me back but I wanted to tel you now before the day ends. So please Y/N Māhealani will you be my valentines?” He asked you as you blush and smile ever so widely.

“Yes, yes!” You shout as Stiles smiles widely and fist bumps in the air, screaming happily like he scored a goal in lacrosse. You can tell that he was happy.

“Stiles what are you doing here? On my front lawn? Dancing around like an idiot?” Your brother Danny asked him as he stops what he was doing and looks over at him.

“Well it’s my dance practice and I was showing Y/N?” He said as you giggle. Danny nods and looks at you weirdly.

“I don’t even want to know.”

Danny then walks inside as you smile at Stiles happily.

“So wanna get some dinner with me?”

“Of course you dork.”

Masterlist

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagines #dylan o'brian imagine #Scott McCall #valentines day #valentines #sabrina carpenter #ALL WE HAVE IS LOVE #imagines

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lesbianrewrites · 7 years

Text

Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 03

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Chapters will be posted every other day around 9-10pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

The Letters From No One

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Hayley her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Hayley was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Petra, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport: Hayley Hunting.

This was why Hayley spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Petra Polkiss was going there too. Hayley, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Hayley. “Want to come upstairs and practice?”

“No, thanks,” said Hayley. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she’d said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Hayley at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Hayley watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Hayley didn’t trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

* * *

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Hayley went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. She went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

“What’s this?” she asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if Hayley dared to ask a question.

“Your new school uniform,” she said.

Hayley looked in the bowl again.

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”

“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Aunt Petunia. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.”

Hayley seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High — like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Hayley’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

“Make Hayley get it.”

“Get the mail, Hayley.”

“Make Dudley get it.”

“Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”

Hayley dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Hayley.

Hayley picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives — she didn’t belong to the library, so she’d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Ms. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Hayley saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

“Hurry up, girl!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Hayley went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

“Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk …”

“Dad!” said Dudley suddenly. “Dad, Hayley’s got something!”

Hayley was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon.

“That’s mine!” said Hayley, trying to snatch it back.

“Who’d be writing to you?” sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

“Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!”

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Hayley and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

“I want to read that letter,” he said loudly.

“I want to read it,” said Hayley furiously, “as it’s mine.”

“Get out, both of you,” croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Hayley didn’t move.

“I WANT MY LETTER!” she shouted.

“Let me see it!” demanded Dudley.

“OUT!” roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Hayley and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Hayley and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Hayley, her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the address — how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?”

“Watching — spying — might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

“But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’t want —”

Hayley could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer. … Yes, that’s best … we won’t do anything. …”

“But —”

“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took her in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before; he visited Hayley in her cupboard.

“Where’s my letter?” said Hayley, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. “Who’s writing to me?”

“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly. “I have burned it.”

“It was not a mistake,” said Hayley angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.”

“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

“Er — yes, Hayley — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking … you’re really getting a bit big for it … we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.”

“Why?” said Hayley.

“Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff upstairs, now.”

The Dursleys’ house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom. It only took Hayley one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around her. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor’s foot; in the corner was Dudley’s first-ever television set, which he’d put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, “I don’t want her in there … I need that room … make her get out. …”

Hayley sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday she’d have given anything to be up here. Today she’d rather be back in her cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his newest game system through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn’t have his room back. Hayley was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing she’d opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Hayley, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There’s another one! ‘Ms. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive —’ ”

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Hayley right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Hayley had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Hayley’s letter clutched in his hand.

“Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Hayley. “Dudley — go — just go.”

Hayley walked round and round her new room. Someone knew she had moved out of her cupboard and they seemed to know she hadn’t received her first letter. Surely that meant they’d try again? And this time she’d make sure they didn’t fail. She had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Hayley turned it off quickly and dressed silently She mustn’t wake the Dursleys. She stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

She was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Her heart hammered as she crept across the dark hall toward the front door —

“AAAAARRRGH!”

Hayley leapt into the air; she’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to her horror Hayley realized that the big, squashy something had been her uncle’s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Hayley didn’t do exactly what she’d been trying to do. She shouted at Hayley for about half an hour and then told her to go and make a cup of tea. Hayley shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time she got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon’s lap. Hayley could see three letters addressed in green ink.

“I want —” she began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before her eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

“See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”

“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Hayley. As they couldn’t go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Hayley found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Hayley in amazement.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today —”

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Hayley leapt into the air trying to catch one —

“Out! OUT!”

Uncle Vernon seized Hayley around the waist and threw her into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!”

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

“Shake ’em off … shake ’em off,” he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn’t stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He’d never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he’d missed five television programs he’d wanted to see, and he’d never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Hayley shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Hayley stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering. …

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

“ ’Scuse me, but is one of you Ms. H. Potter? Only I got about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Ms. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Hayley made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked her hand out of the way. The woman stared.

“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

* * *

“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

“Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

“It’s Monday,” he told his mother. “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television.”

Monday. This reminded Hayley of something. If it was Monday — and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television — then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Hayley’s eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given her a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Still, you weren’t eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn’t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he’d bought.

“Found the perfect place!” he said. “Come on! Everyone out!”

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

“Storm forecast for tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. “And this gentleman’s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!”

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

“I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle Vernon, “so all aboard!”

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

“Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Hayley privately agreed, though the thought didn’t cheer her up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Hayley was left to find the softest bit of floor she could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Hayley couldn’t sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Hayley she’d be eleven in ten minutes’ time. She lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Hayley heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although she might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she’d be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and she’d be eleven. Thirty seconds … twenty … ten … nine — maybe she’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three … two … one …

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Hayley sat bolt upright, long hair whipping out in front of her face as she stared at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

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