#like I was so close to just crying in front of my sixth grade class

[just-rogi]

God middle schoolers are MEAN I’ve been callled literal fucking slurs by adults that have hurt less than my middle school girls saying

‘miss behind your back the seventh graders say you are annoying and weird :/‘

like holy shit that’s fuckjng gutting bc I KNOW they mean that shit

[my-castles-crumbling]

Swiftie Anon

Hi guys! I got an ask from an anon that might be triggering so I'm copy-pasting it here so I can put a 'read more' button. I'm naming them Swiftie Anon because they said Taylor really helped them.

TW: SH, SI

Hi Cas, hope you’re ok, because I sure as hell am not. Trigger warning, like mentions of self harm and stuff like that I think.

I’m a seventh grader and recently I’ve been thinking about killing myself a lot more than I usually do. During the pandemic I was in 3rd grade and I kinda realized how much life sucked, but when I went back to school in 5th grade, I realized that this hadn’t occurred to anyone else. I kind of brushed it off bc I’ve always been sort of a pessimist but then I sixth grade I started having suicidal thoughts, I think. I just felt really done with everything, I didn’t want to draw or read or write, and my parents were pissed all the time, it felt like my friends were bored of me (I have abandonment issues from all my friends in elementary school leaving me) (I think)and I thought it would just be easier to not exist anymore, it wasn’t that good. I discovered Taylor, the angel that she is, she just felt…like a friend, like she was right there, you know, and I’ve been mostly okay-ish since. But school fucking sucks and in 7th grade I had to do a presentation in front of my class and I started crying and hyperventilating, I couldn’t even stand up. I think I have anxiety idk. I’ve always been shy, and I’ve hyperventilated before when my parents were yelling at me about stuff and my arms started bleeding because I was digging my nails into them. My parents found out at conferences and I got grounded. my brother knows bc he walked in on me crying and hyperventilating once but he’s leaving for college next year and idk how the fuck I’ll stay together without him. My younger sister and I are really close, but I don’t want to drag her in onto this stuff. And ik once I get to high school it’ll be even worse bc high school sounds horrible and I might be all alone again bc I might not go to the same high school as my friends

I haven’t said a word about this to anyone voluntarily and I know I can’t tell my parents. I always lie on those surveys you get at the doctor, and my parents are always saying I should have a more positive outlook on life and try to be happier and it makes me so pissed bc I am trying as hard as I can to be happening but nothing fucking works.

idk what do with myself anymore, a teacher mentioned college today and I almost broke down sobbing bc I don’t think I’ll let myself live that long. It’s just…really hard and everyday feels like years. Should I tell someone? I’m not as bad as I was in 6th grade, but I know I should be getting help somehow. But I suck at asking for things and I can’t trust any adults.

sorry for the rant, I just need some advice. And a virtual, pat on the head or something, idk.

---

Hi hon!

First, (with your permission), I'm like to give you a virtual hug, because it sounds like you're dealing with a lot <3

I'm gonna be really real with you right now: You need to ask for some help. You have a lot going on, and some really heavy feelings, and you don't deserve to be dealing with them at ALL, let alone by yourself.

You're young, and you have SO MUCH life left to enjoy, and suffering through it like this isn't fair. So I'm going to share something about myself with you, okay?

When I was younger, I was very depressed. I was in a bad relationship and I felt very trapped, and I got to a point similar to you.

One day, I got so overwhelmed that I sort of realized that I either needed to ask for help or I would end up making a really bad decision. So, I asked for help.

Again, I'm going to be real: It was SUPER scary. I had to see a lot of doctors and I cried a lot. But after a lot of work, I was able to get better, and now, years later, I am in a (different) healthy relationship, and I have a job and a pet, and I'm here talking to you.

I know this sounds stupid because it's like some feel-good story and right now I'm sure you feel less than great. But I say this because you NEED to ask for help, even if it is difficult. Because there are real things past this feeling. A future job, a future relationship (if you want), a future pet, future kids (if you want). They're all very real and achievable and this feeling is temporary, even thought it feels so permanent right now.

So I'm going to give you some options, since it seems like you don't want to talk to your parents:

Talk to a doctor. Doctors are trained to help you, and they have a lot of resources.

Talk to a trusted teacher. Teachers can sometimes be amazing resources as well, and a lot of them want to listen when you ask to talk.

Talk to a different adult (aunt, uncle, coach, someone!) that you feel close to that will help.

Call/text/message a hotline. Here is an example of a hotline you can talk to via messaging, text, or phone, depending on what you prefer.

But you need to ask for help, because you DESERVE to be happy and living your best life.

It would make me super happy if you message/inboxed me an update, whether you're doing better, worse, or the same! I'm so proud of you for reaching out and I'm cheering you on!

[spacebetweenheartbeats]

to all the boys i loved before: two

he was my classmate. he was one of my best friends. he was also my first love - still is.

dear ayush bhatt - where do i start with you?

i will do my best to write about him, to make you know and love him as much as i did, but forgive me if i fail to do so. he shines as bright as the sun - and i might be unable to capture his brilliance with my words alone.

i met him seven years ago, in fourth grade, but we only talked two years later, as two ambitious sixth graders hoping to achieve great things in this world. despite belonging to the same section, and the same friend group, we'd never talked before. shocking and unbelievable, but true.

we sat together at school, and we quickly became the best of friends; we were both witty, shared a lot of interests and i thought he was one of the most charming people i'd ever met - still is. i'll never get over how quickly he wormed his way into my heart, even if as a friend.

he quickly became my best friend - he was smart, and kind and was willing to listen. he probably didn't understand much as to why i was so worried about the way i looked or my diet at age eleven, but he'd listen. and that's what i wanted. i wasn't looking to be judged or given advice, i just wanted someone who'd let me ramble for hours.

somewhere between the shared lunch hour and the whispered conversations to avoid being caught by the teachers, i fell in love with him.

if you've ever heard the quote - 'i fell in love with him the way you fall asleep; suddenly, and then all at once' - it would be apt for my situation at the time.

i don't even know how he wormed his way into my heart, but he did. i'm willing to bet it wasn't even that hard for him - he probably just smiled at me the way he always did, like we had a secret nobody else knew, and i fell.

i kept quiet throughout the year, of course - it was 6th grade, and everybody was confessing to their crushes. if he had rejected me, i don't quite think i could have dealt with the fallout and the ruination of a friendship i held so close to my heart.

and then we got shuffled, and we stopped talking.

we both made new friends, and our promises of remaining friends and eating lunch with each other and exchanging books soon fell by the wayside. we drifted apart - while we still said hi and exchanged small talk, our previous closeness had been eroded. he had new female friends, i had new male ones.

it was ok. i dealt with it the way you'd deal with a handicap - by ignoring it and working your life around it. i stopped going down shared corridors, choosing to go by the longer path - stopped going to the basketball grounds because i knew he's going be there, excelling as he always did at basketball. i hid away in the library, or in corners of the school nobody frequented.

in 2020, i made the decision that i would put him behind in my past and leave him as nothing more than a good memory. and then the lockdown hit.

the lockdown in india made it a lot easier to strengthen that decision. there were online classes, and we didn't see or talk to each other during that two year period. for all purposes, ayush bhatt and mira harris were no longer, and had never been anything.

when schools reopened for tenth grade, he wasn't the first thought on my mind. he was maybe the fiftieth or sixtieth, no one's counting. and then i saw him at school, and it hurt.

he'd grown taller - before, i was taller than him, and always made fun of him for that - and while his height changed, his smile hadn't. it was still beautiful, and it still bewitched me and made my heart ache for the things and time i'd lost.

i saw him around after that - we assumed the relationship of two acquaintances who were friendly enough with each other. every time i saw him, it would feel like somebody kicked me in the gut and the air had left my lungs and i'd have to start taking deeper breaths because i didn't want to cry in front of him.

i didn't have to worry about that after a while - the board exams happened, and we stopped talking completely. no time to - we were constantly studying, and revising and trying to do our best. we both did well, of course - he scored a 100 in math and 93.8% overall, and i got 94%. and now i've left school for fiitjee (derogatory), and he stayed back at school.

where are we now?

i know you probably expect us to have stopped talking completely. this is supposed to be a post about the one who got away, a boy i used to love before and miss to my heart's content.

but we haven't.

we still talk, over emails. ridiculous, but true - it takes nearly two weeks for him to respond to any of my mails, but he does reply. we talk about our lives - four years ago, i used to know a lot of things about him. i know that he got into playing chess, got sucked into the iit dream, and got a girlfriend. now, he knows quite a lot about me; my depression, dislike for MPC and the little things that make my life worth living.

i don't think he knows he's one of them.

i love him even now. he'll never know i loved him, or still do - to him, i will be a casual friend he drifted away from, and nothing more than that.

he's a little like the sun. he shines so brightly, i can't even look at him without flinching - and he's not mine to belong to, because the sun belongs to nobody. i don't regret any moment of it - i'd do it, live 2018 all over again if god let me.

maybe i will meet him in person again. maybe in another universe, i'll fall just as hard as i did in this one.

i love you. i'll find you in another universe.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Notice Me

Request: Hey Millie :D As I said before, I am subtly crawling my way into your inbox for the first time. After carefully combing through everyone's masterlist, I realised none of you lot had my baby Oliver Wood. So, here I go. Can I please request an Oliver x Reader fic, a bit maybe angsty, but happy ending where the reader is hot tempered and likes Oliver, but he is too invested in quidditch to realise her feelings? Thank you, hun ^^ - @heloisedaphnebrightmore

A/N: My first Oliver fic and it’s for the Queen of his fics! I’m only a tad nervous!!! Thank you so much for trusting me with this request, I have loved writing it even if I am uncertain about his characterisation. ALSO I have shamelessly stolen a nickname from Outlander as a way to fuel my crush on this particular scot. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, panic BUT FLUFF AND OLIVER BEING A CUTIE

Word count: 2.3k

The ticking of the clock insisted on taunting you by getting slower and slower as the lesson progressed. Your knee began to bounce as you counted down the minutes until the bell rang and you could leave the classroom.

You throw your things into your bag as you rush out of the classroom; all the time hoping he would be waiting.

“Sassenach,” A thick Scottish accent calls out, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You grin at the familiar sight of Oliver Wood waiting for you outside the classroom; leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets with the sleeves of his uniform rolled up. You approach him; his hand outstretched for your bag which he shoulders when you hand it to him.

“You know,” You start, “You’re going to get in trouble for calling me that.”

He smirks at you, “I don’t think I will, I’m too loved for that to happen.”

You nudge his side with your elbow, “I don’t believe that for a minute, Wood.”

Oliver throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, “Hush you, let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving.”

You laugh, “When aren’t you?”

“I’ll have you know; I’ve got to be big and strong as Captain of the Quidditch team.”

You snort, reaching to his other side and squeezing his bicep, “Sure you are, Ol. You’re big and strong.”

“You wound me, woman.”

“Take me to lunch, Wood,” You giggle.

Oliver pulls away from you, bowing down to you, “As you wish, my lady.”

You shove him to the side, but he comes back to you, his arm landing back on your shoulder, “You’re a shit, Oliver.”

“But you love me.”

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

Falling for Oliver Wood happened fast. It happened fast and it left a mark.

It happened between one blink and the next, you’re sure of it.

Thinking back to it, it had to happened when he smiled at you one morning in the Great Hall through Sixth Year. His smile lit up his entire face; bringing out the innate kindness that radiates from within his very core. His brown eyes sparkled and between one drink of orange juice and the next, you had realised you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

Simultaneously, everything made sense and your heart stuttered with the fact, but your stomach dropped, and your mind went into overdrive.

Did he already know?

Was he just pitying you?

How would he react if he found out?

Does he feel the same?

You worked through each question internally; barely finding enough to answer one of the questions suitably.

So you let yourself sit with your feelings, wondering whether they were just a temporary crush.

A year later, they hadn’t disappeared, and it was no longer a crush.

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

You loved Oliver Wood for a lot of reasons; he was kind, he was charming, he was attractive, and he was passionate.

Especially about Quidditch.

But it seemed that he only had eyes for Quidditch, and whilst you love his passion for the sport – making sure you attend every match and helping him plan strategies, you just wish he would notice you a bit more.

For the last month, conversation only seemed to revolve around Quidditch and its strategy and its history.

And as much as you love the brunette, there was only so many times you could be brushed over before deciding enough was enough.

----------

It came to ahead on a Saturday evening. For the fourth evening in a row, Oliver was ranting about Quidditch strategy and whilst you appreciated the passion he has for the sport – it being one of the things you love about him – you wish you could have a conversation about something else.

“Oliver?”

He hums in answer; still extremely focused on the piece of paper in front of him.

“I need to talk to you.”

He hums again, eyes still on the paper.

You clench your hands into fists, willing yourself not to ball up the paper and throw it into his face. You clench your teeth, “Yeah, I was thinking about asking out Marcus Flint from the Slytherin team.”

It was a petty attempt at jealousy. It was a petty attempt at getting a rise out of him.

It was a desperate attempt to get his attention.

“Oh?” is all he replies, crossing something out on the page, writing a name above it.

It’s then that you realise, Oliver probably isn’t going to ever see you as something more. He’d only ever see you as someone to discuss Quidditch strategy with.

The realisation feels like a blow to the face, and you rock back in your chair from the force of it. You look at Oliver, but he hasn’t noticed a thing. Why would he? He’s bent over the strategy for next week’s match; figuring out the team’s weak points and thinking of solutions.

You blink fast; the sadness coursing through your body and bringing tears to your eyes. It felt as if your heart had been ripped out and smashed to pieces on the very floor of the common room for the entire house to lay witness to.

Yet for them, nothing has changed – they continue to talk, to study, to laugh.

For you, everything’s changed.

And the room is becoming too warm and the walls are becoming too close. It’s all too much, and you need to leave.

You need to get out now.

Clearing your throat, you whisper, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”

Oliver waves still bent over the plan for next week. He didn’t notice the way your voice breaks, or how vague you were when saying goodnight.

Rising from your seat, you fight back the gathering tears until you’re in your room.

There, you let them fall in heart-wrenching, chest crushing sobs. Mechanically, you take off your robes and replace them with your pyjamas. Your blind to it all; the tears falling too thick and too fast for you to see clearly.

With your wand in your hand, you brokenly whisper a charm to close the curtains surrounding your four-poster bed, desperate for the privacy in which you could let yourself fall into your pit of despair and hopelessness.

You feel ridiculous for having fallen for someone who’s first love would always be a sport. You hide your face in your pillow; letting the cotton of your pillow case muffle the sobs that will not stop falling from your mouth.

--------

The morning brings sore eyes and sad looks from your dorm mates who had heard your muffled sobs and put two and two together pretty quicky. You smile at them, softly apologising, before taking your things to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There you get a look at the damage. Your eyes already seem duller; the colour dimmed from the agony of your realisation.

Enough, you berate yourself. You have shed your tears, and now it was time to figure out the next move. As you’re brushing your teeth, you think over your options.

You could talk to Oliver but the idea of potentially ruining your friendship has you backtracking.

Running a brush through you hair, you have another idea. You could simply work to get over Oliver whilst maintaining the friendship. You had been friends for over a year before you started having feelings for the Scot; surely you could return to friendship, right?

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

Breakfast feels stilted and awkward on your end; you pick at your food; your appetite having disappeared overnight.

Oliver watches you with a funny expression on his face. His eyes flicker between your face and the full plate of food in front of you, “Sassenach, are you alright?”

You want to cry at the use of your nickname, “I’m okay, Oliver. Just not feeling very well.”

He reaches across the table and presses the back of his hand to your forehead; feeling for a fever or anything to explain this change, “You feel fine…” he trails off, eyebrows furrowed.

You bat his hand away with a short laugh; your temper attached to a short fuse with how little sleep you got on account of crying late into the night, “Oh hush Oliver, you are a worrywart! I’ll be fine when I get to class.”

Oliver frowns at your outburst and at the way you bat his hand away from your forehead. He doesn’t get to air his concerns though; you grab your bag, taking a sip of the orange juice, “I’ll see you later on.”

For a long time after you leave, Oliver stares at the doors of the Great Hall wondering when exactly he had started to lose you.

-------

The week passes slowly; like trudging through the deepest mud.

Every time your mind slipped into a daydream with him featuring at the main character, you brought your focus back to the lesson and your work. If this carries on, I’ll have the highest grades in the year, you thought to yourself sarcastically.

You pull away gradually; protecting your heart from the inevitable heart break should Oliver ever find out about your feelings.

He makes it hard though; he continues to meet you outside classrooms and will always carry your bag whether the load was light or heavy – he always insisted. He carries on with the little touches and grabbing your hand at random parts of the day to pull your attention to something he’s noticed, and he always, always talks to you about Quidditch.

And all you want to do is scream at the teenager for making it so damn hard to fall out of love with him. For making it so hard to stop the racing of your heart or the daydreams from your mind. For making it so hard to stop the butterflies that erupted with each lopsided smile and his pronunciation of your nickname.

But you don’t; you remain silent, wondering if he’ll ever notice the shattered remains of your heart caged in your chest.

-----------

The day felt like it was going to be uneventful; if this what getting over Oliver felt like then you were tempted to ask for a refund.

Your lessons pass slowly; the Professor’s making it their aim to drag out the teaching material until the very last moment before NEWTs.

When the ball finally rings signalling lunch, you place your things in your bag mechanically, swinging it onto your shoulder as you leave the classroom.

You sigh as you notice there’s no sign of Oliver waiting for you. You blink back the sudden onset of tears; this was your call, you berate yourself.

You don’t see who grabs you until your pulled into an empty classroom.

You glare at the familiar brown eyes of Oliver Wood, “Oliver!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” You state, head held high, eyes never leaving his.

“Bullshit,” He shouts, “You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I miss you. What’s happened for you to pull away like this?” He asks, his voice breaking a little.

Hearing that break in his voice, you want to take him into your arms and apologise for letting him think the worst.

But your head overrules your heart.

“For Merlin’s sake, Oliver! How could you be so blind?” You cry out.

“Blind? To what?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for your next few words, “Oliver, I like you. As in more than a friend.”

His eyes widen as he takes you in with entirely new eyes.

The silence is deafening; it’s pressing down on you like a heavy stone. The weight of it making it somewhat hard to breathe. The longer he’s silent; the worse it gets for you.

“If you’re going to reject me, you better get on with it,” You snap; dread settling in your gut like a lead balloon making your short temper, shorter.

Oliver seems to shake himself out of his trance at your words, “Why would I ever do that?”

You throw your arms wide, your bag falling to the floor, “I don’t know… because you don’t feel the same?”

“But I don’t… I feel the same.”

Your arms drop to your sides, “What?”

Oliver nods, “I feel the same.” At your bewildered expression, he continues, “I thought you knew.”

“Oliver, you don’t notice anything unless it starts with the letter Q and ends in H.”

He frowns, “That’s not true!”

“Oh? Prove me wrong then, Wood.”

He grins at the challenge, “I noticed you. I haven’t noticed anything but you since we became friends. Merlin, (Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since Sixth Year when you told me to get myself together after we lost a match against Hufflepuff.”

His accent gets thicker the more he talks; he’s getting worked up and the brogue becomes something else.

“Since Sixth Year?” You interject, a small smile breaking out across your face.

Oliver nods, blush painting his cheeks.

You sigh out a breath of relief, “Thank Merlin, I’ve liked you since then too.”

“Then why were you pulling away?” He asks in a hurt tone.

You drop your eyes, “It was my way of trying to get over you.”

“Get over me?”

“It didn’t work!” You rush out at his hurt look, “I don’t think there’s any getting over you.”

Something resembling relief falls over his face, and your heart flutters at the sight of it.

Oliver takes your hand in his, tangling the fingers together. A simple action but one that held so much promise.

He takes a step closer to you; his other arm circling your waist.

You decide he’s taking too much time.

You drop his hand to wrap both arms around his neck pulling him down for the kiss you’ve both hungered for, for so long. He laughs in surprise, but his arms quickly circle around you, his lips responding to your hungrily.

“So you’ve always noticed me huh?” You ask when you finally pull away, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“Sassenach, how could I not?” is all he replies before kissing you once more.

*******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​

[stxrrywildflower]

figlia

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - the team meets rossi’s daughter for the first time

warnings - none

word count - ?

note - figlia is daughter in italian

you sat in your final class of the day, drumming your fingers nervously along your thigh as your other hand was playing some random game.

it was still incredibly early in the morning, only ten am. you had just finished your final exam for your last class. school was done for the year when the last bell rang at 11. until then, your classmates had time to finish their finals before relaxing.

the way your high school worked was that finals took place over three days; monday, tuesday, and wednesday. you had five classes and each day was assigned two final exams until wednesday only had one. usually you had early dismissals on these days and today was no different. the school kept you for an extra amount of time on the last day so they could grade your last final and put together everyone’s report card. in just one hour, you could collect your final grades from the front desk and your summer vacation would begin.

you were honestly bored out of your mind. naturally, you decided to text/annoy your dad, david rossi. the entire family line was slightly complicated. all the mattered was that rossi was your biological dad while your mom was out of the picture. despite not having a mom to grow up with, rossi provided everything for you and was the best dad you could ask for.

“hi dad!” you first texted

“figlia! how’s school going?”

“i just took my last final. waiting to get my grades and then i’m allowed to go. anyway i can stop by quantico? i need a father-daughter lunch after this week 😔”

“you’re going to have to take the train in. i have some paperwork to do but i’m sure i can arrange something. how do you think you did on your exams?”

“i’m not sure if i want to talk about it.”

“that bad huh. i’m sure you did great y/n. you spent a ton of time studying.”

“hopefully you’re right.”

with that, you closed out of your messages app and went to book a train ticket to quantico. thankfully, there was one just twenty minutes after school ended which would give you enough time to get to the train station.

it was slightly nerve-racking that you would be visiting your dads work. while you were well aware of what rossi did for a living, he had never once allowed you to visit as he didn’t want you exposed to the graphic images and people he delt with every day. you knew you were a secret to the team and had no clue who anyone was.

the next hour passed by suprisingly quickly. when the bell rang, practically everyone in the classroom you were in let out a sigh of relief. it did, however, take a bit to get your final grades as your last name was rossi.

finally, one of the women at the front office handed you a file folder with a smile and a “have a good summer.” you waved goodbye to your friends before exiting school without a look back. you put in your earbuds and shuffled a random playlist as you walked to the train station. the train was right on time, you boarded with ease, no problems with your tickets.

you toyed with the edge of the file folder you were given back at school. sure, you could wait and look at your grades when you were with or dad. or, you could do it now and either celebrate or seek some form of comfort. you ended up choosing the later. with one final deep breath, you opened the folder up. your eyes darted down the page, a feeling of relief washing over you.

every single final exam you took, you passed with flying colors. only two out of five weren’t perfect scores. even then, they were both 98’s. you felt like crying, tears of happiness of course. all of the assignments moved your grades up to even higher a’s. all the nerves you felt about school melted away. now, you just had to tell your dad.

it took close to twenty minutes for you to arrive in quantico, virginia. the fbi building was right in front outside of the station. you walked along the sidewalk, holding your backpack close to you. there was only one entrance which greatly help you figure out where to go. the woman at the front desk was slightly suprised to see a teenager walking in but still greeted you with a smile.

“hello! can i help you?”

you nodded, “i’m here to visit my dad, david rossi. he mentioned a family file so i should be in there.” after a few seconds of typing, the woman smiled once again. “alright, i just need to check your bag real quick and then you’re good to go.”

after handing your bag over, you stepped back. there wasn’t anything bad inside, all just some school supplies and personal items. “you’re good to go, head over to the elevators and go up to the sixth floor. through the glass doors is the bau office. up the stairs is your fathers office. but i’m sure he’s most likely out and about,” the woman explained. you thanked her once more before making your way over to the elevators just as she had directed.

the ride up to the bau floor went by faster than you would have liked. you didn’t know why you were so nervous. it was just your dad and the people he worked with. when the elevator doors opened, it was just like the woman described.

before heading in, you looked through the glass doors. inside, your dad was talking to a blonde woman and then a skinny brunette man. you held your backpack a little tighter before pushing the doors open and walking in.

your dad noticed your presence immediately, standing up with a bright smile. just like the receptionist in the first floor, the entire bau team was incredibly confused on why a teenager was in the bullpen.

“figlia!” rossi greeted, hugging you tightly. you smiled at your fathers embrace. the entire team was even more confused. no one was entirely fluent in italian but they all knew a few words. rossi had all rubbed off on them. “daughter?” spencer mouthed to morgan.

once pulling away, you handed your dad the file folder. “have you looked yet?” rossi questioned. “yeah i have. not telling you until you look yourself,” you responded.

“alright well we can head up to my office. i’m sure you’d rather do it without prying eyes,” rossi smirked. you followed him up the stairs and down the catwalk. while your dad moved to sit at his desk, you had sat down at one of the seats. the room was silent, as the door was closed. that didn’t stop the stares from those at their desks. you were sure you would meet them later.

just like at school, you tapped your hands along your leg as rossi opened the file and scanned it. a proud smile broke out on his face as he stood up once again to hug you a second time. “you aced them!” your dad exclaimed.

“it only took many hours of studying and you having to make me pasta to calm me down but yeah, i did it,” you replied, feeling rather emotional.

a few stray tears flowed down your cheeks. it had been a really tough couple of days before that week. there had been a few nights where you completely broke down.

rossi was extremely proud of his daughter. just like you had said, you were extremely stressed out the weeks leading up to finals. on the bright side, it did give him some time to test out new pasta recipes. naturally, like the dad he is, rossi wanted to brag about you to the team.

“are you alright with meeting my team? it’s kinda inevitable since you’re already here but i figured we could do it now,” your dad asked. “sure, i know they’re confused. the skinny kid and the other guy have been looking up here and then talking.”

your dad chuckled at your observations. “alright well you can head into the conference room and i’ll bring everyone up.” after grabbing your bag, you stood up and exited the office. the room rossi mentioned was just a few feet from the office. all eyes were still on you as you walked down the catwalk.

by now, hotch was out of his office and down with the rest of his team in the bullpen. “hey hotch,” morgan called, “did you know rossi had a daughter?” the unit chief, who was reviewing a file with emily, turned towards morgan. the slightly confused expression on his face was a pretty good answer. “technically yes, only because it’s mentioned in his family finals. but other than that i’ve never met her and he’s never mentioned her at all. so yes and no,” hotch answered.

the group went silent as you emerged once again, heading to the left while rossi went right. “what?” rossi questioned the expressions on everyone’s faces. “you have a kid?” gracia asked.

“yeah i do. and she’s up in the conference room so you can all meet here,” rossi explained. within a few short moments, the team stood up and followed the senior agent up the stairs.

meanwhile, you were walking around the conference room, looking at the various decorations and furniture in the rooom. finally, you settled down in one of the chairs and used your foot to spin you around.

“y/n?” you heard your fathers voice from behind you. after spinning around, you stood back up and leaned against the table. rossi joined you by your side.

“this is my team,” rossi started, “from left to right that’s hotch, j.j., emily, derek, spencer, and penelope.” you waved at all of the new people, your smiling face matching there’s.

“it’s really nice to meet you y/n, i would say we’ve heard a lot about you but you’ve kinda been a mystery until today,” j.j. spoke up. “yeah well dad likes to keep me out of his work,” you explained. the team had to admit, it was really sweet seeing you call rossi ‘dad.’

“so why did you chose today of all days?” emily asked. “i finished school today and got my final grades. dad has been really helpful with studying so i wanted to let him know i passed.”

rossi scoffed, “she didn’t just pass, she aced all of her finals.” you nudged your dad with your elbow. “humble much?” you teased.

“what can i say, i’m just so proud of you, filgia,” rossi finished.

[carolina-bleus]

~Something You Read: From Rick to Michonne~

“I cannot believe he actually logged into class this morning from his bed! I think he’d just woken up like five minutes before. He could barely hold his eyes open and had bed hair and everything. Who even does that?” Michonne scoffed.

Rick chuckled. “That sounds exactly like something Shane would do.”

“Mr. Horvath even had to tell him to put on a shirt...which got a lot of grumbling from some of the girls.”

“You included?”

Rick outright laughed at the look of disgust Michonne shot him through his phone’s screen.

“Richard Sutton Grimes, I am offended! You know I have better taste than that. No offense to Shane, but it would have to be the end of the world and we’d have to be the last hope for continuation of the human race before I’d even consider him anything other than a smug nuisance.”

“Ouch! So I’ll take that as a no.”

“Take that as a hell no!”

“Michonne Colette Richardson with the potty mouth! I’m gonna tell your mama and daddy.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? I get grounded and confined to the house and not allowed to go out with my friends? Too late, Miss Rona already beat them to that,” Michonne replied glumly.

“Yeah, it sucks. I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our senior year of high school. I thought everything would be back to normal by now.”

“I don’t even know what normal is anymore.  I certainly hope this isn’t our new normal...going to school online, not being able to hang out and only seeing each other “face to face” through a screen in class or during phone calls.”

“I never thought I’d say this...and if you tell my mama, I’ll deny it...but I actually miss school. Not the work,” Rick quickly added. “I miss interacting with everybody, even Eugene and his mullet.”

“Really, Rick? Of all the classmates you could name, you pick Eugene...and his mullet...and not me?”

“You know you’re not just my classmate. You’re my best friend, Michonne. Of course I miss you.”

More than you even know, Rick thought.

“I miss you, too. The two of us haven’t been in the same space in what feels like forever and I’m over it. We don’t even get to go the mountains for Christmas this year,” Michonne lamented.

The Grimes and Richardson families were extremely close. The teens’ parents grew up together in King County and had been close long before Rick and Michonne were born. The families had been planning to spend Christmas break in a vacation home rented out for the holidays. But, now instead of a big Christmas celebration in the mountains, the families were doing as they had for Thanksgiving and keeping their celebrations small and confined to immediate family. Gift giving was even different this year.

The families decided to keep it simple and follow a modified version of the five-gift rule. Each household pulled the name of someone from the other household. The gift recipient told the gift giver what category they wanted their gift to represent. Luckily, Rick and Michonne pulled each other’s names. But even if they hadn’t, they would have managed to get a gift for each other a gift anyway. Michonne wanted “something you read” and Rick asked for “something you want.” Michonne’s gift was already wrapped and ready on Rick’s nightstand.

The canceled vacation and altered holiday routines were just another reminder of how different things were this year. Rick and Michonne had been inseparable since they were babies. They’d seen each other just about every day before pandemic brought their in-person interactions to a halt. The physical separation was something neither teen had really gotten used to even after so many months.

Michonne sighed. “You think it will be like this when we get older if everything does go back to normal and we can get on with our lives?”

“What do you mean?” Rick asked.

“We’re about to go off to college in some form or another and start the next phase of our lives. Do you think this is what it will be like...never seeing each other except through calls or whenever there is a holiday?”

“You think we’re going to grow apart?” Rick asked with a tilt of his head.

Michonne shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope not. But I never thought I’d live through a pandemic either. Life’s funny that way.”

“I know you want to explore the world and go to all these exciting places during and after college. But what about later? Do you think you’ll come back home? To your family?”

To me?

Rick had been in love with his best friend for as long as he could remember. He’d never quite found the words to tell her. He thought maybe he’d ask her to prom and do it then but prom most likely wasn’t going to happen this year. Rick worried if he’d even get the chance to hug Michonne again before they went off to different colleges next fall.

“You mean come back home to live?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah.”

“Is that what you’re going to do...come back home after college?”

“That’s been the plan.”

“Have you ever thought about living somewhere else?”

“Not really...but I guess I would for the right reason.”

And the right person.

“What reason would that be?”

You.

Rick shrugged. “I guess I’ll know when I know.”

Michonne looked away briefly before clearing her throat. “Oh...well, we don’t have to worry about that for a little while longer, anyway.  Soon it will be Christmas break. And then it will be New Year’s Eve and we can put this hellish year behind us and start looking forward to the future...wherever that takes us.”

“Michonne, I---

A knock sounded on Rick’s door.  It opened and his mom stood in the doorway.

“Honey, I know it’s distance learning but you still need to get some rest for tomorrow. Michonne, you do as well,” Mrs. Grimes added, knowing without question who Rick was talking to this late.

“Yes ma’am,” the teens replied in unison.

“Alright. Goodnight you two. Love you both.”

“Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, Auntie Suzanne.”

Once his mother closed the door behind her, Rick turned back to the screen.

“Rick, what were you about to say before?”

“Oh...umm...just that I hope you like the Christmas gift I got you.”

“You always pick out the best gifts, so I’m not worried. Well, I guess we better head to bed. Talk to you in the morning before classes?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Michonne.”

“Goodnight, Rick.”

The best friends ended their call and Rick slouched down with a sigh. He had been about to confess his feelings to Michonne right then and there. Her conversation about them growing apart scared him. He didn’t want to lose her.

But what if telling her how I feel pushes her away?

Needing to get his feelings off his chest somehow, Rick tore a piece of paper from his notebook, grabbed a pen and began to write.

Dear Michonne,

You’ve been my best friend since before we could talk and I hope you remain so even after I tell you what’s in my heart. Michonne, I love you...I’m in love with you. Whew! It feels good to FINALLY say that. I’ve loved you since...well, honestly, I can’t think of a time when I didn’t love you in some way.  Every moment that’s meant something in my life has had you in it...holding my hand when I was scared on our very first day of school, when you helped me study for and win the spelling bee in third grade, when we took down the school bully, Phillip, on the playground in fifth grade, being each other’s first kiss in sixth grade and each other’s date for our first high school dance, sitting and crying with me when my grandpa died from the virus, stressing about applying to college early decision and celebrating together when we both got into our dream schools. The serious moments, the fun moments and everything in between...you’ve been there.  And somewhere along the way, my love for you grew beyond friendship.

I can be my whole self with you because you bring out the best of who I am and you inspire me to want to be even better.  You’re the one person I can tell anything and everything to without hesitation. You’re the only person I want to tell everything to. So, you’re probably wondering why I never told you how I feel. Well, I haven’t told you for the same reason your question about us drifting apart scared me...I don’t want to lose you. I can’t imagine...I don’t want to imagine...us not being in each other’s lives. I didn’t want to risk pushing you away or making you feel weird. I still don’t want that. But this year has taught me more than ever that life is short, time is precious and you have to let the people in your lives always know how you truly feel about them while you can.

Whatever you feel for me, please know that your happiness and our friendship are the most important things to me. And I want us to always remain friends, and in each other’s lives, whether or not we ever become a couple. I know we’ll be walking different paths for the next few years, but I hope those paths always lead us back to each other.

This is my first love confession I’ve ever written so I’m not really sure how to end it. I guess, thank you for reading it.

Love always,

Rick

P.S.- If you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to say anything. We can just pretend this never happened.

Finished, Rick neatly folded the paper in half, wrote Michonne’s name on the front, and placed it on his nightstand beside Michonne’s gift.

Now the question remains if I’ll ever give it to her.

*****

Before Rick knew it, there was only one more week until school let out for the holiday break. He’d decided to have a change of scenery and attended school in his dad’s study today. Returning to his room, Rick plopped down on his bed and reached for his phone that he’d left on the nightstand. To his horror, the phone was there, but Michonne’s gift...and more importantly, Michonne’s note...were both gone.

“MAMA!”

“What?! Why are you yelling?”

“Mama, where’s Michonne’s gift?”

“Your Aunt Sheila and I did our socially distanced gift exchange this afternoon. I dropped their gifts off on their porch and ours were waiting there in a box. I already put them under the tree.”

“So you got Michonne’s gift from me off of my table?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to the piece of paper that was there as well?”

“Well, it had Michonne’s name on it, so I put it in a nice envelope...since you neglected to do so...and added it to her present.”

“Oh, Mama, you didn’t,” Rick groaned.

“Yes, I did. It was beside Michonne’s gift. It had her name on it. It was meant for her right?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was.”

“So why are you looking like I just destroyed your world?”

Because you may just accidentally have.

“Uh...it’s nothing,” Rick hedged. “I uh...I just wanted to exchange gifts in person.”

Mrs. Grimes nodded sympathetically.

“I know sweetie. We all wanted to do that this year, but we have to take the necessary precautions to keep everyone safe.”

Unfortunately, my heart might have just become collateral damage.

The morning after he wrote it, Rick had decided not to give Michonne the letter. He still felt the same way, but he just couldn’t run the risk of his confession altering their friendship in a negative way. However, now all he could do was wait and hope Michonne didn’t take an early peek at her gifts like she used to do when they were kids.

Rick looked at the date on his phone...December 10...fifteen days until Michonne opened the letter. He smiled wistfully at his lock screen.  It was picture of him and Michonne that she forced him to take on the last day they saw each other before their world got turned on its head. They were lounging in the hammock in his family’s backyard just talking about their hopes for senior year and beyond. It had been a perfect afternoon. He’d almost told her how he felt then but backed out at the last minute. Now the decision to tell had been taken out of his hands.

Man, I hope I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life.

 *****

As the days to Christmas dwindled down, Rick didn’t notice a change in Michonne or their interactions. They still spoke every morning and every night and she acted the same as always. Rick didn’t know if that meant she hadn’t yet read the letter or that she had and was just not saying anything because didn’t have any romantic feelings for him.

Rick had tried to bribe Michonne’s younger brother, Noah, to find and destroy the letter. But that ended in utter failure. Noah couldn’t find the letter and he got yelled at by Michonne for snooping around her room. But Noah was true to his word (and the fifty dollars Rick sent to his cash app) and never implicated Rick in the plot.

~Christmas Eve~

Rick’s nerves were shot.

One more day until I know if I need to ask to go live with Granny Grimes down in Florida to finish out senior year.

Rick hadn’t spoken to Michonne at all today, which was a rarity.

Maybe she’s avoiding me.

Rick trudged glumly down the stairs so lost in thought that the sudden ringing of the doorbell scared him.

“Did y’all order food?” Rick called out to his family.

“No! It might be a package though,” his father yelled back.

Assuming the delivery person left the package on the porch, Rick pulled open the door without hesitation. He nearly fell over when he saw who was waiting.

“Michonne?! What are you doing here?” Rick started to push open the storm door, but caught himself. “Wait, a second.”

Rick grabbed his mask off the hallway table and put it on before stepping outside. The teens stood on opposite ends of the porch.

Michonne offered a small wave. “Hey, Rick. I came over because I wanted to see you.”

“Why? It must be important if you came in person.”

Oh, man. Is she going to break my heart in person?

“I promise to explain. But, first, I need you to answer some questions.”

“Questions? Why?”

“You’ll see.” Michonne pulled out her phone and unlocked it. “Okay, have you experienced any of the following recently...fever, cough, or headaches?”

“No.”

“Good. Fatigue...muscle or body aches...loss of taste or smell?”

“No.”

“Sore throat...nausea...diarrhea?”

“Michonne!”

“Rick, just answer the question.”

“No.”

“Has anyone in your family experienced those symptoms recently?”

Rick shook his head. “No.”

“Where have you been in the past fourteen days?”

“I’ve been home.” Stressing out over a letter.

“You haven’t gone anywhere outside? Not even to the grocery store?”

“Other than the porch or backyard, I’ve been in the house.”

“Good. I’ve haven’t gone anywhere for the past fourteen days either. I’ve been in the house and avoiding anyone who doesn’t live in my house...basically a self-imposed quarantine.”

“Why?”

“So I could do this.”

Michonne removed her mask and walked over to Rick.  She reached up and removed his mask, smiling at the question in his eyes before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his lips. After a moment of shocked delay, Rick quickly responded by wrapping his arms around Michonne and deepening the kiss.

Needing a breath and a moment to process it all, the couple slowly broke off their kiss and stared at each other with twin smiles on their faces.

“I take it you read the letter?” Rick asked.

Michonne nodded. “Exactly fourteen days ago.”

“You read it the first night?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’ve never had anyone confess their love for me before...at least not outside of a daydream. I needed time some time to deal.”

“And do you feel the same way?”

“Rick, I quarantined for fourteen days just so I could kiss you. What do you think that means?”

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

Michonne rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

“I love you, too, Rick.”

“Romantically?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Michonne shrugged. “It’s the same reason you didn’t. I was scared and I didn’t want to lose you in case you didn’t feel the same way.”

“But we both feel the same way. So...we’re a couple?”

“Almost. There is something you have to say first.”

“What?” Then it dawned on Rick and he flushed, suddenly shy. “I wrote it in the letter.”

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

Rick chuckled at his words being thrown back at him, before he turned serious.

“I love you, Michonne.”

Michonne’s face lit up with a smile that took Rick’s breath away.

“Now, we’re a couple,” she declared.

Rick took Michonne’s hand and led her over to the porch swing.  The couple drew close under the blanket Rick’s mom kept there for the chilly winter nights.

“Guess I won’t have to open any gifts tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?” Michonne questioned.

“Christmas came early. I have everything I want now.”

Michonne smiled and pulled Rick into a hug.  When they separated, a sudden question occurred to Rick.

“Hey, did you open my actual gift I got you to read?” Rick asked.

“Not yet, I was waiting until tomorrow. I only opened the letter because I thought it was a card. I’m glad I didn’t wait though because that letter was truly the best thing I’ve read in my entire life.”

Rick blushed happily at Michonne’s words. 

“Well, maybe you’ll read something even better one day.”

“Like what?”

“Our wedding vows.”

Michonne’s eyes widened before she smiled sweetly, “Yeah, maybe one day.”

The couple shared another kiss before they cuddled against each other and slowly rocked in the swing, enjoying the Christmas lights shining across the neighborhood.

@richonnefics

[veiledsilver]

Top five moments you've felt like the universe was messing with you.

Oh boy everyone get ready this is a long list. In descending order, from mildly funny looking back on it to "oh god oh shit oh fuck":

5. Catfishing: College Edition

In 6th grade, I decided to apply to colleges early to see how they were like. I was scared that if they knew I was too young, they'd arrest me. So I created a gmail account as my persona, a white 12th grader named Emilie Alexander. Emilie was planning to go into nursing, dating a high school linebacker named Kyle Kenderson, and deathly allergic to bee stings. If she even came near a bee, she would die.

This part was of the utmost importance.

See, I was constantly paranoid that one day, the jig would be up- I might forget that my fake last name was Alexander. Or the college dean might come knocking at my door and tear up my home in his mad search for Emilie. If that happened I would fake her tragic death, presumably caused by one big fucking bee.

I secretly collected my information. What nearby states were the prettiest to visit. Which colleges were the safest and most affordable. How often they held courses that I liked. In my emails with colleges I tried to sound as mature and professional as possible.

Then, one day, a college member asked me what high school I was in, so they could check my records.

My blood froze.

It was time to bring out the bee.

In response to their question, I sent an email that was like this:

"Dear Mr. McLaughlin, I was a proud graduate of- ugh! Ah! Kyaaaa! Uwaa! W-w-what's this... huge goddamn bee doing here?! Eek, pardon my foul language! It's just that, as I told you earlier, being stung by a bee would kill me.... and now it's stung me thrice (three times)!!

What do I do?! I can't die... I've always wanted to attend your beautiful college...

But this is... the end...

Mr. McLaughlin...

*looks at you sadly*

Tell... my mother... I loved her...

*dies*"

He never responded, probably because he was rendered speechless, but I never touched that account again.

My private gmail for fun stuff like tumblr still has "Alexander" as a surname, though.

4. Wild and Authentic

Alright. Alright. So. My art teacher in middle school.

Right off the bat, they endeared themselves to the tumblr art kids- they proudly used they/them pronouns, dyed their hair vibrant colors, deeply encouraged OC creation, and was chill with any art style even if it was anime. Mx. Mason was very cool, except for one thing.

We had complete artistic freedom when it came to their assignments, EXCEPT FOR ONE THING.

Drumroll, please.

Take a deep breath if you must.

Ready?

...

Cats had to have extremely distinct whisker pores.

YES, they believed that modern depictions of cats were too streamlined. Too... idealized. As a cat owner themselves, they were convinced that society's vision of cats did not do their feral feline ancestors justice. In making their faces flawlessly smooth-furred, we were stripping the cat of its true nature.

I found this out the hard way, when I was drawing warrior cats fanart for class (it was of Firestar cuddled in the arms of an orange haired anime catgirl who was his reincarnation in my first ever comic series, Warriors Neko Desu! ♡ Heart Academy Dokidoki).

Mx. Mason came over to look at my magnum opus, and I expected them to have their socks knocked off at my artistic talent. They lifted up my drawing for all to see, and I smugly leaned back in my seat.

Only for them to launch into a passionate lecture about how, in neglecting to draw whisker pores on cats, I was DENYING THIS FICTIONAL CAT OF ITS WILD AUTHENTIC SELF.

My friends absolutely lost it when I told them this story, and there was a period of time when all our discord nicknames were wild and authentic too.

As for Firestar and his counterpart Hoshineko Orenji-chan, I never did give them wild authentic whisker holes, but that's to be expected of a kittypet, I guess.

3. Stan Jungkook Or Whatever

A couple years ago, my family and I flew to Seoul, South Korea, to visit our relatives and teach me more about my heritage. It was very nice! I got to visit shrines and festivals and palaces, and I was in awe that this was what my ancestors had once seen in their daily lives.

Then, when we went to the modern side of Korea, I realized just how much I didn't fit in.

It was clear that I didn't know how to act, or how to speak Korean, and I spent my days fumbling around and getting scammed multiple times by salesmen. But I clowned myself the most... during an interactive event with kpop stars.

They had this experimental event where holograms of the boys would sing onstage and dance in place of the actual idols. Before the show began, girls could stand in booths that scanned their appearances, and holograms of THEM could dance onstage with the hologram boys.

I didn't know this.

When Cousin Ae-cha told me to step inside one of the machines, I thought I'd be hilarious and stand backwards, so it would scan the back of me instead of my front. As I walked out, I saw other girls putting on their best makeup, cutest clothes, and most expensive accessories, and I slowly realized that I was in danger.

But the danger didn't come until halfway through the concert, where the boys looked eagerly off-stage and a holy staircase appeared and all the hologram girls descended from heaven. There were cherry blossoms. There were roses. There was me, among the crowd of beautiful airbrushed girls, walking backwards.

I felt the judgemental gazes of twenty girls and their mothers.

Each boy danced with a girl, who got a cute animated moment with special effects, and sang about how they found a dream girl to have a true love romance with. Finally, all the girls vanished except one, and it was me.

One of the boys didn't dance with any girls, and now he was all alone in the rain, feeling dejected that HE did not find his true love girl to have a dream romance with. Then the rain stopped, the sun came out, and I emerged. Still backwards.

He was thrilled and sang about how my face (that he didn't see) stole his heart, and now everyone in the audience was giggling, and he slowly brought me very close to kiss me... but because I was backwards, his nose was cutely nuzzling my hair.

The audience members- at least the adults- were now laughing their asses off. His lips met the back of my head, and together we vanished into the wind.

I'd say I couldn't show my face there ever again, but I never did show my face, so... hm...

2. Horrid Little Temptress

If I wasn't a minor, I'd need a drink before starting this story. Sadly, I cannot drown my sorrows- and neither should you after you hear this, because it's only fair.

Mrs. Appleby was my Spanish teacher in like, 9th grade. Even the wild and authentic art teacher thought she was insane. Appleby forced kids to brew tea for her and yelled at them when they didn't get it right, and I thought she had a chronic squint until I realised she just did that to mock me and my Asian eye-folds. She forced us to watch Dora the Explorer to "absorb knowledge." Everyone fucking hated Mrs. Appleby.

But the worst thing she ever did... was during the school festival.

See, whenever she's angry, she zooms right into kids' faces to scream at them. Her wrinkled flesh would blot out the goddamn sun and all you see are her bloodshot yellow eyeballs so victims just stayed rooted to the spot like cornered animals or something similar. This is important.

Because when she was sampling her own brownies (read: hoarding them so no one else could eat them), one parent foolishly decided to grab one and she thought it was a student and she grabbed his wrist so hard she could've nearly snapped it and... and... zoomed into his face.

Except she underestimated his height and kissed him by accident, but it was more like her mouth was sucking in his face like a vacuum.

His wife was shrieking like an ape. His kid, my classmate, saw his social life flash before his eyes.

In her defense, she did not mouth to mouth with him on purpose and afterwards she cried in the bathroom and when I foolishly followed her in to comfort her, because I am a teacher's pet through and through, she snatched the paper towels I got for her and wailed that she was a-

A-

HORRID LITTLE TEMPTRESS.

If I had decided to not be kind, I never would've heard that string of fucking words. But I did. And I paid for it dearly. The end.

1. Violence IS The Answer, Sometimes

Thomas, my dearly detested.

Back in sixth grade, I used to have a crush on him because he had the surfer boy look with nicely tanned skin and pale blond hair and the clearest aquamarine eyes I've ever seen. He also liked surfing and swimming. He seemed like the perfect little trophy waifu except for one absolute dealbreaker.

He and his parents were extremely conservative and so, when I told him I liked him, his response was basically "haha no you're a [slur] and would probably eat my dog."

I was horrified and ran away to cry. But then, by the next day, I decided I needed to punish him. Thomas walked in before class started and I was waiting for him with these hands. I kicked him so he doubled over, slammed his face into his chair's seat, and quickly clambered on top of him to SIT ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. He started shaking and twitching and trying to pry me off, but eventually he went limp and stopped moving.

I thought he fell asleep, but Mohammed, another classmate who was bullied by Thomas, told me that Thomas might never wake up again (not that he was very sad about this. I didn't know until later, but Thomas said slurs at him too).

While I was sitting on the guy, he'd straight up passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Screaming and crying, I told our homeroom teacher that Thomas suddenly fainted, and she was the type of Caucasian that thought all little Asian kids were sweet and innocent, so it didn't even cross her mind that? It might've been me? Who sat on his head when she walked in?

He was sent home early that day. I had to go to a different school next year because Thomas's mom threatened legal action. The only reason I didn't get punished further was because my rich cousins out-Karen'd her and donated a huge amount of money to the school to keep them quiet.

Anyway, I never did anything that insane ever again, because something like that is enough for a lifetime. My cousins made it clear they would never back me up again. I was sure this whole event would be put behind me, too.

But last fall, during my first day of online learning... who did I see in my zoom meeting... BUT THOMAS! I had my mic and camera off, but the moment he saw my name, his face went pale. His soul would've left his body, but then it would've gone to hell, so it wisely decided to stay inside.

Still, out of shame and embarrassment, I never turned my camera on for the rest of the school year.

[kalimagik]

Should’ve Said No

Sirius Black x Reader 

Marauders Era 

Based off the song “Should’ve Said No” by Taylor Swift

<3k

Warnings: Angst and mentions of cheating

A/N: I’m back with another song based fic because that’s one of the few places that I draw inspiration from. I had a three hour car ride, listened to this song on repeat a million times, so in short, this fic just wrote itself! If you enjoy it, like, reblog, comment, or follow (I think you get the gist so far!) It’s my first time writing for Sirius, so I hope you all like it! Happy Reading <3

-

-

I knew the risks that came with catching the eye of Hogwarts’ biggest playboy. I knew his reputation. I had stayed away for a decent amount of time, but the boy finally wore me down at the end of sixth year. He asked and asked. He said he was done with his play boy life. I said yes. Everyone was surprised I said yes. Hell, I was surprised that I said yes, but it was worth the risk. Sirius Black had my heart in his hands. He was careful with it too, almost delicate. 

Then seventh year kicked in and so did the beginning of quidditch matches and parties. I did as much Common Room rotating for the parties as the next girl, but the one time, the one time I decided that school was more important, he wasn’t strong enough to not ruin everything. Let me go back for a minute. 

Lily came up to me during lunch the other day, I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday, and sat with me at the Y/H table. 

“Did you finish that Transfiguration homework Saturday?” she asked me casually, but seemed to have a little bit of a tremor in her voice. 

“Yeah, Remus was a ton of help. Thank you for telling him that I needed him even though I didn’t want to ask. How was the party?” I asked, thinking nothing of it. It had been Gryffindor’s turn to host, but I wanted to get a good grade in my N.E.W.T. level transfiguration this year, so studying took precedent.  

Lily grew quieter suddenly. 

“That bad, huh?” I giggled, judging her reaction. “Where’s James?” 

I was still so daft. So stupid to think that everything was normal. Lily’s boyfriend and my boyfriend were best friends. It brought us closer than ever and it made me happy. Sound began to fill the Great Hall as others came in for lunch. 

“He’ll be along. I just wanted to talk to you,” Lily piped up again. “Are you almost done? Could we go to the loo to talk for a minute?” 

“What is with you, Lil?” I was worried now. Lily was usually such a happy presence to be around, but that day, something was off. I gathered my things, following Lily to a bathroom a little ways from the Great Hall. What was she so upset over? I hoped she was alright. “Oh, look! There’s James and Sirius!” 

I had started to call them over, but Lily quickly pulled me through the door of the bathroom. 

“Seriously, Lily. What’s up? Did James do something? Should I warm up my wand?” 

“He didn’t do anything, Y/N.” I just stared at her, mouth slightly opened. I was wracking my mind over what had potentially happened that had her acting this way

I realize now that I was so worried for her when she was just being protective over me. 

She finally spoke. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but you deserve to know. He isn’t going to tell you, Y/N/N, but I like you and it isn’t fair.” 

“What are you rambling on about?” 

“Sirius cheated on you…” she finally blurted out. My whole body went numb. I didn’t even hear her say who it was with. I later found out it was Marlene. That was a whole other beast to deal with. We were never that close anyways, so it didn’t surprise me. 

Like I said, I knew his reputation. 

“Y/N/N? It was at the party. I don’t know if he was drunk or what. I wasn’t paying much attention. He begged me not to tell you and James even begged me to give him the chance to tell you. I did. It’s been nearly 5 days and he hadn’t and I couldn’t just watch him with you, acting normal. I’m sorry.” 

I realized then that I hadn’t said anything yet. I stood there, staring at the sinks behind Lily. I didn’t even look at her. My gaze shifted to my face in the mirror. The color had drained from my face. I couldn’t even see any emotion in my features. I could only feel my heart shattering into a million pieces. 

Then Lily asked those dreaded words. “Are you okay?” I looked at her, a blank stare still ensuing, “Oh, no. You’re mad at me. I am so sorry, really. I didn’t want to tell you all of this.” 

Words finally found their way to my lips. “I’m not mad at you, Lily. I’m mad at him. I’m going back to my room. I may see you tomorrow. I don’t know.” 

I bolted to the door and for the crowded halls. I didn’t want to be with anyone anymore. I heard Lily calling to me over the noise. “But, we still have classes today!” 

I wasn’t going to classes. I was processing. Processing was allowed right? I just found out that my boyfriend, correction, my now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me. I would face him later, but for now, I needed time to myself. 

With classes continuing, my room was completely empty. The moment the doors shut, the tears began to roll down my face. I scanned the contents next to my bed. There were those stupid flowers that Sirius had given me the previous Friday. 

I stood in front of them on my night stand. I felt all the hurt and anger that had been numb explode. They burst. My hands acted on their own accord. I picked up the flowers in my hand. They were so delicate, but the anger flowed through my veins and instinct threw them against the wall. When the noise of the limp plants didn’t give me any satisfaction, I followed the flowers with the vase. The smashing sound of glass against the wall was all I needed to hear to know that I was broken inside.

 I skipped my afternoon classes, falling into a heavy sleep, exhausted from the crying. It felt like a hippogriff had run me over. I got up to use the bathroom later and assess my running makeup and horrendous bed head. It was bad, but I didn’t care. I enchanted the door so that no one could come in. They’d only be able to enter when I gave permission. I just needed to be alone in this school that was now seeming all too small.

 When I skipped dinner too, I knew someone was bound to come searching for me eventually. Only, I was expecting Lily or one of my roommates to knock on my door. For some reason, the idea of Sirius coming to talk to me never crossed my mind. 

I heard someone attempt to push against the door as I curled up under my blankets. I felt like they would protect me from the world. 

“Love? I know you’re in there,” Sirius called out to me from behind the door. “You skipped classes and dinner.” 

His voice was so calm. Surely Lily told him that I knew the truth about his weekend. He should be a mess like I was right at that moment!

“Go away. I’m not feeling well,” I lied. I wasn’t ready to confront him then. I wasn’t ready to even look at him. 

“Evans told me,” he sighed. I could hear his fingernails scratching against the wood. Another pause. “I know you know.” 

“Then you know why I don’t really want to talk to you.” I couldn’t help but let the blunt words take the place of my gasping and sobbing. I’d rather him hear the harshness in my voice than any of the hurt. 

“Y/N, darling. I will take it all back if you just give me one chance. It was a moment of weakness, love. With the party and the alcohol, it just happened. It meant nothing though.” 

I had no response for him. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. 45 minutes may have passed. Sirius tried to speak to me a few more times. I even heard him trying to counter the charm I used to lock the door, but he couldn’t. He had no choice but to leave. 

I endured the cooing and sympathies from my roommates, but I hated it. I hated feeling like this. I hated feeling hopeless. This wasn’t my fault. I was a victim, but I’m not weak. 

I couldn’t sleep all night, so I silently moved around the room and placed all of Sirius’ things in a bag. His records of the muggle music he adored, the remnants of the flowers, even the pictures of the two of us. I didn’t want them. 

I marched down to breakfast with the strong intent of telling him off in front of everyone. Everybody in this bloody school knew what had happened by now. I’m sure Marlene basked in the mess she caused and would tell anyone who wanted to hear about it. So, I wasn’t going to let our break-up be ruined by rumors. I’d let everyone witness it first-hand. 

I combed my hair. Redid my make-up. This didn’t hide the fact that I had been crying all day and night, but I don’t care. I needed to do this.

So now, here I am, standing outside the Great Hall. Students from all the houses are eating their breakfasts and I’m holding this bulging bag. 

I feel Lily Evans’ bright green eyes on me as I walk down the length of the Gryffindor table to where she was sitting with Sirius and the other Marauders. From the short glance towards her, I can’t tell if she is scared about what I am going to do or proud. I don’t really care at this point though. I am here on a mission. 

“Pads,” Remus whispers as he is the first one to see me walking towards the group (aside from Lily). 

I’m carrying this bag and just thinking to myself how strange it is to think the songs we used to sing, the smiles, the flowers, and everything is just gone. His dark, piercing eyes met my own. He doesn’t look like a mess. He looks perfect like he always does. This recognition just fires the anger that has been building up inside of me all morning. 

“Y/N? You’re up! Excellent!” Sirius smiles at me. He reaches out to take the bag from me as if he’s helping. “I was thinking perhaps we could have a chat this morning before classes? We could go to the courtyard.” 

I examine him. He seems different to me now. He was pretending like nothing was wrong while he was in front of his friends. I can read him. I know this. 

“I don’t think so, Sirius. Those are your things.” I spit out at him, pointing to the bag now in his hands. Hoping that I am wearing a blank face, I watch his fall. I know he can tell what I’m feeling through my Y/E/C eyes. He always did say that they gave me away every time. 

“I told you last night though. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Scoffing, I can’t stop myself from shaking my head. “No, Sirius. Yesterday I found out about you and even now just looking at you feels absolutely wrong! I heard you last night. You say that you’d take it all back given one chance. It was a moment of weakness-” My arms were flailing as I began to yell. I’ve never been capable of keeping my voice down. I know I’m loud. “And you said yes!” The words bellow out of my throat and I feel like they echo. I don’t know. I’m mad. I’m not finished either. 

Sirius looks at me as if he wants to speak, so I have to cut him off quickly. 

“You don’t get to talk yet.” 

The silence of the Great Hall was deafening. I know that everyone is watching us. Although, I am feeling extra strong. Maybe all those girls that Sirius screwed over in the past were sending me their strength. 

“I was studying the night of the party. It was the first one that I missed and you messed it all up! Here’s what should have happened.” My hand motions are taking over as the words roll off my tongue. I didn’t even plan any of this. “You should’ve said no, you should’ve gone home, you should’ve thought twice before you let it all go. This school is so damn small that you should’ve known that word about what you did with her would get back to me!” 

Maybe I shouldn’t have just pointed to Marlene at that point…oh well. Put my focus back on Sirius. 

“I should have been there in the back of your mind. I shouldn’t be asking myself why all of this happened. You shouldn’t be sitting outside of my room begging for forgiveness at my feet. If you would’ve said no, we would still be together. I did everything right! This is your fault!” 

His eyes widened at my words. I can’t look at him anymore. I’m not eating breakfast, but it’s fine. I would be on a high from this for at least a little while. I could probably get through my morning classes. I don’t have any with Sirius, so that wouldn’t be a problem. I do have them with Remus, so that could pose an issue, but with what I am feeling right now, I can take it. 

“Y/N! Wait up!” Lily’s red hair chased me from the crowded hall. Her face was lighting up everything else. “That was awesome! I mean, Sirius isn’t looking too great, but you were fantastic! I think some people wanted to applaud you on your way out.” 

My high began to fade. I didn’t mean to make him feel awful. I just didn’t want to let it seem like he could walk all over me and what he did was okay. It isn’t okay! Cheating is one of the lowest things a person could do! 

Lily could see the uncertainty on my face. “Was I too hard on him? Should I have done that in private?” I could feel my eyes begin to puff and redden again. 

“He deserved it, Y/N/N. What he did to you wasn’t in private, so I think this is justice.” Lily smiled. 

That smile quickly fell. I turned to follow her line of sight. Sirius stood there, just looking at me. He was being quick to run up to me. 

“Can we please talk?” 

“That’s not a good idea.” 

“I said I’m sorry. It’s all in the past!” His eyes are pleading with me, but I just can’t do it. “I want to be with you, Y/N! I have wanted to be with you for the longest time. It was just a moment of weakness. If you could just give me a chance, please?” 

“You hurt me, Black.” I needed to stop and cringe. I used to only call him by his last name and it felt wrong to be using it again. “You can tell I’ve been crying, just look at my eyes! I’m sure everyone can see it. And you know all the right things to say! You’ve always been good with words. That’s one of the reasons I fell for you. But do you honestly expect me to believe that we could ever be the same after this? You should’ve said no, Black.” 

I turn to walk away, Lily being supportive next to me, but something is tugging on me, a question I didn’t realize I had, so I turn back to Sirius. 

“I need to ask you something before I go. I can’t resist. Was it worth it? Was she worth all of this?” 

Sirius hung his head. I haven’t seen him like this since he decided to leave home, and I was just a friend at that point. “No. She wasn’t.” 

I nod, accepting the fact that he understands that he messed up. Maybe, in the future I can forgive him for this and even be friends, but like I said, we could never be the same. Walking away right now seems like the best option for me though. With Lily beside me, I am going to go to classes and I am going to heal and move on. I said my peace to Sirius Black. He made a mistake, but I would not be the victim of the next one. 

[h2bakugou]

LMAO This happened to me a while back, sadly. But a Bakugo x reader where his gf is supposed to do a presentation but since her partners (who’s always done the talking) aren’t here, they’re supposed to present it by themself? she gets really nervous and cries? OFKDKD she gets through it though and in the end bakugo comforts her? thank you! 💘

a/n: oo this is a good request! thank you for the request love! i’m going to be trying my hardest to get as many requests as i can done here in the next week so i can open requests up

summary: during a class project, you’re doing a presentation, and on the day of class presentions, your partner isn’t here and it’s a little tough to get through, but bakugou is quick to comfort you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, a teeny bit of angst

wordcount: 935

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

The class project was pretty easy. And working with Mina was easy too. You were both able to work very well together and make good progress when you worked on the project in class.

Mina had agreed to do most of the talking when it came to the presentation part of the project. You were grateful. You’d agreed to say a little something to put in your effort.

Until the day of presenting came around and Mina was sick. she just caught some common cold and took that one day off from school. She felt bad, but there wasn’t much else she could do.

She gave you a good pep talk, but you were still feeling nervous about now having to present the entire project on your own.

- - -

Upon the day of the project's deadline, you were sat in your seat, shaking your leg. You were nervous, and anxious, and you didn’t want to present. You would’ve taken the minus ten points had it been your own project, but you didn’t want to selfishly lower Mina’s grade all because you were nervous.

It was just something you’d always dealt with. Everyone else always did the talking because you contributed most of the work, which was completely fine with you.

You’d gladly do all the work for the project as long as you didn't have to speak. Something about speaking during the presentation was so stressful, what if you said the wrong thing, or messed up a word, or took too long reading a slide? 

It was all just a big mess.

Bakugou could feel the palpable anxiety radiating off of you. You were nervous and he could tell. Being your boyfriend and all, he had this sort of sixth sense when it came to you.

He knew you like the back of his hand.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” Bakugou whispered to you. You turned to look at him and gave him a weak smile. His reassuring measure helped, but you still had to go up there.

“Thanks.” You whispered back, gripping the little print-out you’d made to read so you didn’t have to turn back and read the slides.

You hadn’t made it past the first paragraph. Your eyes kept leaping from the paragraph to focus on other things and then hopping back to try and finish the paragraph.

You weren’t getting very far.

“(Y/n), Mina, you’re up.” Present Mic called, since Mina wasn’t there, only you rose from your seat, feeling the eyes of all your classmates fall onto you.

“Mina not here today?” Mic questions and you nod.

“She’s sick.” Kaminari informs Present Mic and he nods. 

Your presentation is pulled up and you stand at the front of the class. You’ve known these people for a few months now, you’re all very close, but for some reason, standing up here, looking back at them...

They look like strangers.

Struggling to swallow the lump in your throat, you’re handed the clicker to switch the slides and you begin. Clicking to the first slide you open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

Closing your mouth you begin to feel your stomach-churning. This was too much for it being something so ‘simple.’ Why was this hard?

You begin to try again but still, no words come out. It’s too much and the silence is deafening. You want to cry, and you can feel the tears falling down your cheeks. You set both your papers and the clicker down on the podium and excuse yourself out of the classroom.

Bakugou rushes out after you, without even asking Present Mic.

He sees you in the hallway, standing near an open window, grasping the window sill.

“Hey.” Bakugou calls to you. You respond to your name by glancing at him. he can see your puffy red eyes and he doesn’t waste any time coming to comfort you.

“It’s alright.” Bakugou hugs you, his hand stroking the back of your head. 

“I just froze- it was so scary.” You mumble against him. 

“I know.” Bakugou pulls you away just enough to move your face to look at him.

“I can’t even do a stupid presentation.” Your eyes water again as you look up at him.

“You’ve kicked villain ass before, you’re strong, don’t put yourself down.” Bakugou presses his lips to yours, giving you a soft kiss.

You kiss back and feel your nerves crumble away.

Pulling away, Bakugou’s thumbs wipe your cheeks clean of tears.

“Take your time, it’s not a rush to get it done, okay? I’ll stand up there and if anyone laughs I’ll blow them up!” Bakugou’s signature smirk played on his lips and you let out a laugh.

“You can’t blow them up!” You hug him, thanking him for helping calm you down.

“Watch me.” Bakugou chuckled, walking back to class with you.

Bakugou stood by you just like he said he would, and you managed to get through your presentation. It was tough, but at the end of it, you received a perfect grade. Mina was proud of you as well.

“I knew you could do it.” Mina smiled, giving you a hug. She was conveniently feeling much better the next day, but she was truly under the weather. You were happy to see her feeling better.

And it was all over anyway, no need to be mad at her when you no longer have to present anything.

Bakugou made a promise that he would try his best to be your partner next time to help you overcome your nerves. You were looking forward to it.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[multifandombookstore]

Evil Russians

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader Genre: angst, fluff, smut Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE, evil Russians being evil, smutty fun time  Summary: After secretly liking each other for so long, it’s only fair that they confess after being held captive by evil Russians. 

As a senior in high school, I’d say I’ve accomplished quite a bit. I mean, I can’t really tell anyone about these accomplishments but they happened and I feel, well, accomplished.

It is a little weird being friends with middle schoolers, but they’re very cool middle schoolers! 

Anyway, now everything is calm and peaceful. Plus, it’s summer! Summer is literally the best. Though, I had to get a job. And, of course, the king himself helped me to get a job. Scoops Ahoy is actually pretty chill, literally and figuratively. 

The best part is I get to hang out with Steve, my crush since freshman year. 

I’ve been best friends with Nancy since we were practically in diapers. We grew up together, seeing as how I live across the street. When she and Steve started to become a thing, my heart was practically ripped from my chest. 

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I have feelings for it. Mainly because my heart is no longer in my chest because it’s been ripped out. 

Thanks to her though, Steve and I became friends. So, I guess I can thank her in that aspect. 

When they broke up though, I had never been happier. I couldn’t tell them that though, but I was. We were all still a team though, working to defeat evil. 

When Nancy got with Jonathon, I finally told her about my feelings for Steve. She felt like a jerk but I told her it wasn’t her fault, seeing as how I never told her till now how I felt about him. I’m just glad I have someone to go to when I want to rant about Steve. 

Anyway, Steve got me the job and we’ve only gotten closer. Plus, I gained Robin as a new best friend. Steve lowkey hates it but I don’t care. Robin is really cool and I don’t see why he can’t see that. 

As of right now, Scoops Ahoy is as chill as ever. Steve and I are on our break right now, hiding in the back and eating ice cream. Steve gets up and starts to head to the front when he hears a familiar voice, his face lighting up. He slams the door open and shouts, “Henderson!”

I quickly stand up as well, dashing upfront with a big grin. 

“You got the job!” 

“I got the job!”

“Toothless!” I screech as I appear upfront, running to him to hug him. He groans as he returns the hug, playfully scowling at me. 

“I told you not to call me that anymore,” he whines as he pulls away, smiling as Steve comes up to do their handshake. 

I giggle and shake my head, going around the counter to get him some ice cream for the munchkin. “How many children are you friends with?” Robin teases Steve. I snort and playfully elbow her as I start to scoop ice cream up for Dustin. 

We then all sit down in a booth, Dustin beaming as I hand him his ice cream. “You’re a goddess,” he whispers to me, licking his lips as he eyes the ice cream before digging in. 

He then starts telling us about his girlfriend, my heart soaring for the little dude. Things take a turn when he starts telling us about the Russians. I was intrigued instantly.

Steve was not though. He had trouble believing such a thing, despite what he’s seen and done. That is until Dustin started telling him that they’d be American heroes and get all the girls they want. I hide my frown by eating some of Dustin’s ice cream which he didn’t mind at all. 

That’s when the chaos issued. We spied around the mall looking for suspicious people, following one dude who ended up just being a pilates instructor or something. 

We then started to decipher the message that the Russians were using to talk in secret code. Man, without me, they’d be completely lost and would’ve gotten nowhere.

We then got the annoying girl to climb into a vent and let us into the storage unit the evil Russians are using. That ended up being an elevator. And that ended up trapping us underground. 

Then, one thing led to another and now, I’m tied up in a room by myself. 

I don’t bother shouting for help, knowing it’s pointless. A general came in and started to interrogate me, trying to ask who I work for and basic kidnapping the enemy questions. Not to brag or anything, but I’m a great liar. I told them, unknowingly, exactly what Steve told them. 

With each lie, they slap me across the face. I bite back my tears, laughing instead to appear strong. Or crazy. Either is fine in this situation. Eventually, they had enough of me and left, probably to interrogate Steve. 

After sitting in the uncomfortable chair for who knows how long, two men come back into the plain room and pick me up. They then continue to drag me to a different room, throwing me into it. Luckily for me, and not so lucky for Steve, I land on top of him. 

Not that he would’ve felt it, seeing as how he’s knocked out. My heart breaks at the sight of his swollen face and all the blood. I call his name as I lightly shake him, feeling myself on the verge of tears. 

As soon as the general comes in, I start to yell at him, asking him what he did to Steve. He slaps me across the face for the nth time, my already lightly bruised and red cheek feeling the sharp sting. 

A man then picks me up, practically throwing me into a chair and starting to tie us up. I struggle as I call out to Steve. 

“Steve! Steve, can you hear me? Steve, wake up! Hey, don’t touch him!”

The men leave after I spit in the general’s face, smiling cheekily at him. As soon as they’re gone, I start trying to wake up Steve again.

He wakes up eventually, my body relaxing a bit knowing he’s okay. “Steve! Oh, thank god! Okay, I have a plan!”

He smiles to himself, lightly shaking his head. You always have a plan. 

I explain the plan to him, hearing him agree that getting the scissors is smart. We start to hop over towards them before falling over, my eyes tearing up.

This is hopeless. We are legit going to die. Here of all places. After everything we’ve been up against. This is what kills us.

My body starts to shake as I cry, biting my lip hard to try and get me to stop. 

Steve starts to laugh, turning his head to try and look at me. “Are you laughing?” he asks while chuckling. 

I then sniffle, his laughter instantly dying. 

“Hey, woah. What’s with the tears, Shortcake?” he says lightly. I smile at the pet name, my crying calming a bit. He started calling me that for two reasons. 

1. I’m shorter than him 

2. Strawberry Shortcake is my favorite ice cream flavor to eat while working  

“It’s just...I can’t believe I’m going to die in an evil Russians’ basement with you. After everything we’ve been through. That’s just insane.”

He chuckles a bit, shaking his head. “We aren’t going to die here. As you said, we’ve been up against much, much worse.”

I calm down at the sound of his voice, biting my lip. “Can you...talk some more?” I whisper, sniffling again.

Steve goes quiet and I start to blush. That’s so stupid. I go to tell him sorry and that I’m stupid when he starts to talk. 

“Do you remember in gym class when the boys were playing basketball and that stupid Hargrove guy kept smacking the ball out of my hand and shoving me to the floor?”

I sniffle once more and nod my head, wishing I could wipe my face. “Yeah, why?” I ask softly. 

He laughs as he starts to shake his head, smiling as he recalls the day. 

“After the game was over, you marched right up to Hargrove and challenged him to a one on one game. Everyone thought you were way out of your league. You only played basketball in sixth grade and absolutely hated it. But you challenged him anyway.”

I close my eyes and picture it, remembering it like it was yesterday. 

“You said whoever gets a basket first wins. He was so cocky, smirking at you as he stared down at you with his stupid, flirty eyes.”

You laugh at the last part, feeling much better than before. 

“One of his ugly friends through the ball up for you both. Billy didn’t even bother jumping. He just let you get the ball, smirking that horrible smirk of his. As soon as you started running towards your goal, he followed after you.” 

You start to smile more, waiting for the climax of the story. 

“He ran in front of you when you reached the free-throw line, jumping to block your shot. Your sly self faked the jump and then jumped as he came down. You shot that ball right into the net and left everyone speechless. You then sashayed away from him with a proud smirk on your face, right over to me.” 

I let out a happy sigh, reminiscing on the face Billy had when I faked him out and made the shot. 

“It was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen you do.” 

I instantly go speechless at that, my jaw hanging open. “That, out of all things, is the hottest? What about when I took your spiked bat from you and hit the Demogorgon right in the face? That did nothing to you?”

He laughs loudly at your response, nodding his head even though you can’t see him. “No, no. That’s hot too. I can’t brag to people about that though.”

He once again renders me speechless. Does he brag about me to people? When I don’t give him a response, he keeps going. 

“(Y/n), there’s something I’ve been mea—”

Just then, the evil Russians return with their doctor. They give us some weird looking blue shot and then leave again. Steve and I sit there for a long moment, trying to figure out if we feel any different.

That’s when we start acting like crackheads on steroids. 

“You know earlier when I called you hot?” Steve asks while giggling like a fool.

I giggle and nod my head, laughing harder when I remember that he can’t see me. 

“Yeah,” I say after I calm down my laughter. 

“Yeah, well, you’re like really hot,” Steve says as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said in his life. 

I giggle at his words, finding him absolutely ridiculous. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you’re insanely hot,” I argue. 

He calms his laughter to chuckling to reply to me. “Yeah, well, I think you’re, like, crazy hot.” 

It then goes back and forth like that until we are interrupted again. The general and his men come back, trying to ask us questions again. We once again give them nothing, only angering the general more. 

Alarms then start to go off. I can already tell that Steve is smirking up at the general. Everyone except for the doctor runs out. I start to mock the siren, making Steve laugh and the doctor to get annoyed. 

It didn’t take long for Dustin to bust in and shock the doctor, sending him crippling to the ground. 

“Henderson!” Steve shouts happily at the same time I call out, “Toothless!” 

The young boy then goes about rescuing us, bringing us to a movie theater. I happily munch on the popcorn as we watch the movie, completely confused as to what is going on. I go to take a drink of the soda we got when I realize it’s empty. 

Steve drank it all. 

“Stevie!” I whine too loudly, making people shush us. Steve and I turn around and shush the people right back, making us giggle. I then get up to go get something else to drink, Steve following right after me. I drink from the water fountain for what felt like forever until Steve was complaining that he wants some too. 

I pull away and step to the side, allowing Steve to drink from the fountain. He pulls away after a moment and complains that he has to pee. I snort at him as we walk to the restrooms, saying dumb stuff on the way. 

I sit in one of the stalls as he pees, making fun of him for the way it sounds. Out of nowhere, we both feel sick. I lean over the toilet and empty my insides into it, hearing Steve doing the same thing. I groan as I hold my head, flushing the toilet. Steve didn’t sound any better than I did. 

Once we start to feel better, we start to talk again. We mainly talked about all the stupid stuff we said while drugged. We laugh afterward, eventually calming down and falling silent. 

“Hey, (Y/n),” Steve calls softly from his stall. 

I look up towards his stall as if I can see him. “Yeah?”

It’s silent for another minute until he speaks. “I don’t know if you remember or not...but back in the evil Russians’ basement, we kept going back and forth about how the other is hotter. Um...”

He trails off again, making me frown. I can feel a blush settling on my cheeks at the memory, mentally moving that memory to my longterm memory. I never want to forget that moment. 

“Before the evil dudes came back, I was going to tell you something,” he says softly. I remain quiet for a long time, my heart starting to race. Is this going where I think it’s going? 

“(Y/n), I like you,” he whispers so softly that I have to strain my ears to hear it. My jaw unhinges to the floor I’m sitting on, staring at the stall wall in shock. I almost yelp when he suddenly slides under the wall, looking at me with furrowed brows as he waits for my response. 

I guess I take too long because he quickly starts to back-peddle, a dark, embarrassed blush coming to his face. “Oh, uh, sorry! Please ignore that. Oh jeez, sorry. I-”

“Harrington, shut it. If we both didn’t just puke up our intestines, I’d kiss you right now.” That definitely makes him stop rambling, a wide grin coming to his face. 

“Can I kiss you anyways? I’ve been dying to kiss you for the longest time,” he begs. Your nose wrinkles as you stand, dusting yourself off before offering him a hand. He takes it and you help pull him up as you respond. 

“Not happening, pretty boy. As soon as we brush our teeth, I’m all yours. Until then, how about a hug?” I offer. 

He grins brighter than the sun as he quickly wraps his arms around my shoulders, my arms going around his waist. We start to crack up when someone comes into the restroom and sees us standing in the open stall hugging. 

Once we defeat the mind flayer, a heavy weight left my body. We defeated a new enemy, hopefully for good this time, and Steve and I confessed to each other. 

I don't think I've ever felt happier. Steve insists on taking me home after the ambulance checks us out, giving us permission to go home. I accept, wanting to fall asleep in his arms. 

Unlike Nancy's parents, my parents are pretty chill and don't care that I have a boy up in my room. They trust me, so they trust my decisions. They just want him to be gone by a certain time and to keep the door open, but other than that, they don't really care. 

I let Steve take a shower in my shower while I go to take a shower in my parent's room. Before I go to take mine though, I get some of my dad's clothes for Steve to borrow. I let him use his pajama pants, that have strings that he can tie tight seeing as how they are two completely different sizes, and a random, old shirt. 

I come back to my room and set the clothes on the bed for him, letting Steve know before going to take my shower. Halfway through my shower, I curse myself for being so dumb.

I got Steve a change of clothes but forgot my own. Gosh, it's like something out of a cheesy romance movie. 

I finish up with my shower and wrap the towel around my cold body, grunting as I quickly go to my room. My parents are downstairs watching a movie, so I didn't have to worry about them seeing me. 

I just had to worry about Steve.

I was hoping that I could beat him to my room and get dressed before he finished his shower but when I open the door, Steve is fully dressed and lounging on my bed playing on his phone. 

"Man, girls take such long showe- oh..."

My face goes vibrant red as we make eye contact, my heart lurching up to my throat. We stare at each other for a long moment before his eyes starting to wander, looking at the water droplets that are dripping down from my hair onto my bare skin. 

He clears his throat before quickly turning away, rolling over on the bed to give me some privacy. "Sorry," he says softly. I smile at his apology, giggling as I head over towards my dresser. 

"For what?' I tease, getting out pajama shorts. I toss those on the opposite side of the bed before closing that drawer and pulling out another one. I get out a pair of old underwear before pausing, biting my lip. I put them back and pull out a pair of my nice, lacy panties.

Just in case.

Steve starts to stutter at my question, not really sure what he's apologizing for either. I chuckle at his stuttering, walking to my closet and getting a hoodie out. I decided to skip on the bra seeing as how we are just going to be chilling in my bed. 

"I'm just teasing," I reply as I walk to my bed, making sure Steve's back is to me before dropping my towel. I see him tense when he hears the towel, hit the floor. I quickly slip on my panties before slipping on my hoodie, sliding my shorts on last. 

"You're good," I say as I pick up the towel to dry my hair. He slowly rolls over to look up over at me, smiling when he sees me. 

"What?" I ask with my own smile, a blush growing on my face. 

"Nothing, nothing. You just...you're so beautiful," he whispers, smiling like the dork he is. My blush only gets worse, playfully hitting him with my towel. 

"Shut up! You're just trying to get into my pants!" I jokingly shout, making sure to be quiet enough so that my parents don't hear me. He laughs in response, tugging me onto the bed. He pulls me flush against him, smirking down at me. 

"Maybe," he jokes, looking serious as he says it. I stare up at him wide-eyed, trying to think of a good response. With our bodies pressed so closely together, I began to wonder if he could feel my pounding heart against him. 

Before I can think of anything a moment more, his lips meet mine. All coherent thoughts leave my mind after that. I hum into the kiss, slowly deepening it. He hums back when he feels my tongue slide out, gratefully accepting it into his mouth. 

We make out like that for a while, simply holding each other as we let our mouths explore the other's. After a while, our hands start to wander. His hands slip under my hoodie, staying respectfully on my hips. I internally groan at how much of a gentleman he is, wanting him to take charge and ravish me. 

I pull my hands away from his abdomen to pull his hands to my breasts, moaning when he gets with the program. He flips over me, squeezing my breasts as he pulls away from my mouth to kiss down my neck. I pant as I stare up a the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around the fact that we are actually doing this. The amount of times I've daydreamed in class or have woken up wet from a wet dream of him is ridiculous. 

Finally, those dreams are coming true. 

I moan louder when one of his hands leave my breasts to go to my heat, rubbing me through my panties. He brings his head away from my neck to look down at me, shushing me gently. 

"You have to be quiet, baby. The door is open and I'd rather not be shot by your dad if he catches us in this position."

I nod my head, taking a deep breath as I bite onto my lip. "Have you ever done...this before?" he whispers to me as his fingers rub over my clothed clit. 

I shake my head as I let out a shaky breath, my hands tightly gripping my covers. "No...not with someone else, anyway..." I reply sheepishly. His eyes widen at my words, for many reasons. 

For one, he's glad that he'll be the first one to be with me. Second of all, not with someone else but with...

He smirks devilishly as he pieces it together. "Do you have toys?" he asks in a new tone I've never heard before. It's deeper, darker. 

"I, um, uh..." I stutter out, trying to find a good way to deny his accusations. 

He practically growls as he moves my panties to the side and slips a finger inside of me. "God, I knew you were hot but this is just insane," he says lowly as he pumps his finger. 

"I can imagine you lied out on your bed, pumping one of your toys in and out of y-"

I quickly tig him down to keep me from moaning. Dirty talk is one of my weaknesses. A sound leaves his throat as he slips another finger inside, making me moan against his lips. He takes the chance to slide his tongue into my mouth, his free hand pinching one of my nipples. My head gets dizzy at all the different sensations, my body starting to shake. 

Before I can stop myself or warn him, I'm cumming. I cover my mouth as I do so, knowing I'll end up being loud. 

His eyes widen as he watches me, his fingers slowing down as I clench around them. After a couple of seconds, he feels his fingers get wetter and hears the squelching noise increase as he moves his fingers. 

He pulls his fingers out slowly with wide eyes, watching his fingers retreat from my core. He opens and closes his fingers, watching the strings of my juices drip down his fingers and make his hand even dirtier. 

I watch him with half-lidded eyes, my breathing making my chest rise and fall rapidly. He slowly brings his fingers to his lips, making eye contact with you as he licks at his fingers. 

I can't help but moan, shaking my head as my hips jolt up towards him. I bring my hand to his pants, palming him through his bottoms. He stops licking his fingers at that, grunting as he looks down at my hands. 

He bites his lip as he wipes his hand on his pants before slipping them off. I gape when his member springs free, hitting his abdomen. I forgot he's not wearing any underwear. I mewl at the realization, bringing my hand to his hard member to start pumping it. 

He bites his lip as he watches my hand move, his body tensing. I then bring my hand to my mouth, licking from my palm to my fingers before bringing my hand back. My hand now easily glides up and down, his hips jutting forward occasionally. 

After a couple of minutes of giving him a handjob, he shakily pulls my hand away. He brings his hands to my shorts, looking up at me through his long hair. 

"Can I?" he whispers, voice thick with want. I quickly nod my head, wanting nothing more. He slowly slips my shorts and panties off, groaning at the sight of my dripping heat. 

"God, you can't be real," he groans, pumping his member as he stares at my opening for a moment before looking up into my eyes. 

"Condom?" he whispers, smiling when he sees my flushed cheeks. I always get flustered so easily. I gulp at his question and shake my head, licking my lips. 

"No. I didn't exactly think that I'd be having sex with Steve The-Hair Harrington," I joke, my voice shakey from excitement. His face falls at my words, quietly cursing. 

He starts to pull away from me, okay with doing oral, before I stop him. "Hey," I say softly, bringing his eyes to mine. "I trust you," I whisper.

His eyes widen, his body going rigid. "I...you...what?" I giggle at his stuttering, running my hand through his hair. 

"I trust you. Just, please, don't cum in me," I tease. His face breaks out with color, making me giggle more. He nods his head though and brings his hips down, rubbing his member through my slick to get himself wet enough to not hurt me when he pushes in. 

When he finally does though, both of us can't help but moan. He then starts to thrust nice and slow, wanting it to be slow and sensual for our first time. We smile softly at each other before we start to kiss, this kiss being as slow as his thrusts. 

Even with the slow pace, I cum quickly. I'm not used to this in any way and plus, I've already came once, so I'm sensitive. He moans quietly when he feels me clench around him, knowing I came again. 

He hisses as he gets close, quickly pulling out and jacking off until he cums on my stomach. 

We pant as we stare at each other with lidded eyes, Steve slowly falling to my side. 

"Great. Now, I'll have to shower again," I joke as I cuddle into him, making him chuckle and kiss my forehead. 

MASTERLIST

[asmo-ds]

Opposite Day (Part 1)

||An “Obey Me! Shall We Date?” fanfic||

Authors note: I haven’t written fan fiction since the sixth grade so this may be a bit rusty. The last fanfic I wrote was an “adopted by larry stylinson” fanfic and it was god awful. Anyway enjoy this and lmk if y’all want more!

TW: lots of fighting and breaking things, MC runs away, swearing

(MC POV)

My eyes shoot open at the crack of dawn, just before the chaos of the house of lamentation is bound to take place. This is the only time of the day where I don’t have 7 demon brothers clinging to my sides and dragging me into their personal affairs.

For the most part I don’t mind their little escapades, but when they barging into my room the second I open my eyes, I can become quite irritated. Luckily (after days of watching everyone else’s sleep cycles) I have found an hour where nobody in this damn house is awake. 4am. Levi falls asleep around now and Lucifer wakes up in about an hour. 4 am is not the typical waking time for young human girl, but if it means I can get a moment to myself, I will gladly do it.

I quickly slip on some socks (because sleeping in socks is weird and if you do then I don’t trust you) and tip-toe through the silent halls.

When I arrive at the kitchen I let out a small sigh of relief. I continue to tip-toe through the kitchen and to a cabinet. I grab a few granola bars before quickly heading back to my room. I do this every morning so that even if a certain someone feels they need to eat my serving of breakfast before I get down there, I won’t pass out from malnutrition in the middle of classes.

I sit on my bed with my legs crossed. I feel at peace and close my eyes, relishing in the quiet morni-

CRASH

“MAMMON WHAT THE FUCK?!” I hear asmo’s voice screech. I feel disappointment as I realize today I won’t get my hour of quiet time. I quickly shove my granola bar in my mouth as I hear two pairs of feet racing down the hallway towards my room.

Before I have time to even stand up, Mammon throws my door open and slams it just as quickly.

“MC! Hide me please Asmo is gonna kill m-“ he pleads before the door is broken off it’s hinges by a certain lustful demon.

Before I have time to think say something are both wrestling on my floor in full demon form.

“Mammon that watch went perfectly with almost all my outfits why the hell did you sell it?!” Asmo screams as he throws his fist at his brother, ultimately missing and instead knocking over my desk lamp.

“I was gonna buy ya another one! Honest!” Mammon responds before being shoved into my dresser, which proceeds to fall over.

When it falls over my secret candy drawer opens and reveals itself to the world. Though Asmo and Mammon are too busy fighting to notice it, a certain ginger woke up as the scent of it was suddenly released from its confines. He comes racing in and immediately begins to devour my candy. Belphie follows after him, rubbing his eyes sleepily and coming to lay on my bed, completely disregarding the fact that I am on it still. He lays his legs across my lap and I let out a sigh of annoyance.

“Beel! That’s my candy! I got it from the human world I won’t be able to get any more for a really long time!” I whine knowing that Lucifer would never permit me to take a trip home for something so insignificant in his eyes.

“Sorry MC, I can’t help it my stomach won’t let me stop.” He responds with a mouth full of chocolates. He continues to eat them and I feel my heart sink a bit. Before I can get anymore upset though Mammon tackles Asmo onto my bed, breaking it in half causing all four of us to end up on the floor.

“Would you stop making a racket I’m trying to watch the new episode of I accidentally altered my friends personalities out of annoyance and now I have to fix it before they are permanently stuck like that but I can’t hear it if you normies are breaking things right next door!” Levi suddenly comes storming in, already in his demon form.

“Shut it ya stupid otaku!” Mammon responds before Levi runs over and joins his and Asmo’s wrestling match.

Satan comes in next, also in demon form, which causes me to curl into myself as I try to avoid the four violent demons and get the sleepy one off of me. I sigh once more before I feel a very dark energy enter the room.

Lucifer stands in full demon form while everybody freezes in place. Dread suddenly setting in as they realize they’d woken up the eldest brother.

“It is the crack of dawn and yet I already have to stop you fools from bickering and destroying the dorms.” He growls as they all cower back in fear.

“H-h-hey Lucifer we were all just playin’! Right guys?” Mammon stutters our trying to ease the situation.

Lucifer responds yelling something about pathetic excuses. I cant hear the exact words though as my ears ring and I feel hot tears of frustration burn down my cheeks.

“SHUT UP!” I surprise everyone and myself and with my sudden outburst. It was only then that they all realized I was crying. I wiped my eyes and sniffled before letting out a sob.

“MC, I know you are upset but that is no way to talk to y-“ Lucifer begins before I shove him out of the way and run to my doorway. Before I leave I turn to them all.

“You are all rotten demons! You’ve destroyed all my stuff once again and I’m so tired of being apart of these petty arguments!” I scream out. I see a small amount of regret, guilt, and worry in their eyes for a moment before I turn back around walking out of the room.

“I wish you could all just be decent for more than three minutes!” I yell, continuing down the hall and out the front door of the House of Lamentation, instead making my way to Purgatory Hall.

[flowerflamestars]

Would you write a HC of Nessian being that childhood enemies to lovers in high school? I can only trust you with it

Trust accepted and golden. 

-Okay, okay, so on the very first day of first grade, Cassian met the prettiest girl in the world. Little Nesta was absolutely one of those tiny polite children who has a vast hidden well of rage and imagination only displayed when playing witches with Elain in their mother’s garden. She’s quiet at school, utterly shy.

Cassian, meanwhile, is a gremlin. He’s energetic! and sweet! Dimples and curls, an enormous smile. He runs right up to the new girl on that rainy late summer day to introduce himself.

And trips. The Prettiest Girl in the World- as he tells Az, later, while they hide in Rhysand’s treefort- gets mud all over her perfect first day of school dress. 

- Baby Nesta is not okay, okay? She has no idea what to do with this friendly boy. She wants him to stop talking to her. She’s sure her mom is going to be disappointed when she comes home with her white dress ruined, and it’s her first day at a new school without Elain.

Cassian keeps apologizing, but it is Not Okay. 

-Nesta decides she hates him.

- Three years later, Nesta destroys Cassian in the spelling bee. Cassian begins to tip from the Prettiest Smartest Girl in the World is incredible to, the Prettiest Smartest Girl in the World keeps beating me at everything and I want to win JUST ONCE

Once, because he’s pissed. Once because then she’d be looking. Cassian just wants Nesta to look at him, and by sixth grade this feeling goes from earnest to furiously incandescent. 

HEAVY ON THE FURY

- Jump ahead, to the very end of middle school, the Archeron’s mom dies. 

Cassian is a happily adopted foster kid, former orphan who just barely remembers his parents. He finds out, and carries around this horrible heavy feeling in his chest all day like he can’t swallow. 

He wants- he doesn’t know- he wants to say something. But Nesta isn’t at school, and they aren’t actually friends, but he just wants to say: someday. He wants to tell her what his foster moms told him: that it’s okay to cry. (He cannot imagine perfect, smart, Nesta Archeron crying). Whatever you feel is okay.

Entirely by accident Cassian runs into her at the local library. Outside, crying on the sidewalk, arriving just in time to watch her hurl her water bottle at the cement.

Cassian, being Cassian, brings it back to her. 

It turns out pretty girl tears are terrifying.

So he very quietly hooks it back onto the pretty lavender backpack Nesta has carried around for the last three years- his is purple too, not at all to be weird, just because- and sits down on the sidewalk too, a couple feet away.

And Nesta is Not Okay. Her mom is dead, and she doesn’t know what she feels because it’s huge and terrifying. Everything hurts and she’s so, so angry and that stupid water bottle lid doesn’t really fit anyway, because it’s actually Feyre’s lid on Nesta’s bottle, because their Aunt doesn’t know anything and doesn’t know them, and Nesta only has that stupid baby backpack because their Dad spends all his time at work so he doesn’t know that before Mom got sick Nesta and Elain got new backpacks every year, whichever they wanted, and they always matched, but Elain’s ripped last summer and their dad had his assistant get a new one but it’s pink and Elain hates pink and it clashes with Nesta’s-

Cassian watches the Pretty Perfect Girl curl in on herself and scream. 

This, in the end, is when Perfect Girl becomes Nesta.

Cassian is is panicking, okay? PANICKING. His ability to comfort other people is 85% knowing when Azriel is overwhelmed and 15% hugging his dog during thunderstorms. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do for Nesta- so he just grabs her hand. 

Holds on, like Az did without laughing at him when Cassian cried that his adoption had gone through.

And Nesta hangs on, so hard it really actually hurts. He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong, or why, and Nesta is so grateful that hurts too. He’s always so loud and laughing, and Nesta has always hated it a little, thinking he was laughing at her.

(he was not)

The complete simplicity of that sweaty grip is just enough that Nesta can think. And poor baby Nesta thinks. 

She has to go inside and return all the sisters books so they don’t have a fine. She needs to figure out how to cut Feyre’s bangs because she’s running around like a sheepdog because Dad didn’t remember to schedule her a haircut. Elain will help. And Nesta will help Elain water the houseplants because Mom loved them and Dad told the maids they’re fake but they’re not, only the ones in the living room are. 

And Nesta- Nesta has a plan.

-They go in the library. If the volunteer behind the desk is making faces at Nesta’s tearstained face or grubby, iron grip on the boy beside her, Nesta isn’t going to acknowledge it, because Mom always said rude people didn’t deserve attention.

Nesta picks out her books, Cassian silently follows. And then he walks her home. They live in the same neighborhood, so it’s fine- but whats not fine is Nesta still hasn’t said anything, and Cassian just wants to say something-

But what happens it this- Nesta carries half the books in a grip so hard it looks painful. Cassian knows its probably painful, because she’s really hurting his hand now. 

Cassian will look later at the imprint her tiny fingertips had made and feel like his whole body is fluttering- but now, now, she’ll steal his half of the books like it’s nothing and stomp up the porch steps of her house, right past a wilting delivery of lilies slowly dying before her front door. 

She won’t say thank you. Cassian won’t say goodbye.

But Cassian will think it’s okay, it’s okay- because Nesta wasn’t alone like he’d been alone.

The blue door slams shut, and they don’t speak again until junior year of high school.

- Nesta Archeron is seventeen and ready to eat the world raw. She’s top of her class. She has goals, she has terrifyingly perfect hair, and she is not going to let anything stand in her way- especially not the fact that she ran for junior class president and tied, with Cassian.

-Cassian has become very, very Cassian in the intervening years. He’s popular but kind, a loud laugh that echoes down halls. Smart, but not a stratospheric over-achiever like Nesta. College is a year away, but everyone know’s he’s going to get an athletic scholarship. 

They run in very, very different circles.

-Listen, it’s not even on purpose- it’s just that something about Nesta’s horrified expression and color-coded organization and perfect fucking red lips makes Cassian his most insane golden retriever self. He can’t help himself. 

They have to work together. They fight constantly. 

But Cassian’s fighting, at seventeen, is like 80% teasing and 20% very real, very earnest flirting. 

And maybe- maybe Nesta knows that and it makes her even grouchier.  She has a plan, okay? She’s on track to graduation top of her class. She’s going to Standford, then Harvard. She’s going to be a surgeon. 

It’s not so far away she can’t still be there for her sisters. Elain wants to go to Berkley and obviously will because she’s brilliant- Feyre will only be alone for one year, but she’s already all set for that to be her study abroad year, so she won’t be trapped at home in their empty house. She’ll be in Spain, and then she’ll go to art school. 

All three Archeron sisters will be of age to pull from their enormous inheritance left from their mother- they will never need to ask anything of their absent, silent, bastard father ever again. It’s just a matter of waiting.

Nesta is on track, and she can’t get distracted.

But Cassian- Cassian really seems to think Nesta doesn’t remember him. As though she could forget, as much as she wants to, that absolute disaster of a boy who was the only person in the world who made Nesta feel like she wasn’t responsible for everything.

Of course, that little boy grew up to be beautiful. 

Of course, now he’s a goddamn menace who’s a clear foot taller than her with broad shoulders to match. Of course, that enormous kind smile sits even more tantalizing on an older face. Of course his dimples are so deep they flash when he grimaces at her student council timeline, broken down for the next two years.

- Azriel, Nesta’s AP chem lab partner, bound forever in respect by mutual silent competence and scorn for the assholes who sit behind them who keep lighting things on fire, says nothing about any of this until Nesta comes into class holding an enormous rainbow concoction like it’s going to explode.

Together- perennially left to their own devices by a teacher who really does not know what to do with them, and maybe fears they both know the coursework better than she does- they stare at the rainbow sprinkled whip cream mountain, slowly melting into the equally bright froth of the drink. 

Some of them are heart-shaped. 

Azriel breaks first, and asks, “Cassian?”

And Nesta, sweet baby ice princess Nesta, numb from being swooped upon by a giddy, grinning, blushing 6′4 quarterback who darted out of the culinary building to force this into her hand and run back away says: Does he think I’m a lesbian?

This is the moment Azriel’s soul actually leaves his body. 

The visceral cringe is so apparent Nesta keeps talking: I mean, the rainbows? why? 

It’s just close enough to a wail that Azriel decides to take pity on this whole new level of romantic idiocy. He proceeds to explain it’s a unicorn frappuccino? maybe? probably? not that he could advise actually consuming anything Cassian makes.

Nesta’s big What the Fuck face does not fade, so Az finally goes: he’s trying to get your attention. 

Nesta: He has my attention. I see him every day. 

Azriel, thinking about how much fun telling Lucien about this will be, imagining his very beautiful boyfriend howling with laughter: Right, and why would he want more?

Nesta: Because he’s a menace?

Az:

Nesta:

Az:

Nesta, glaring with heartfelt intensity at the melting hearts and stars, food coloring weeping: Because he wants my attention. That- that bastard.

Az, opening his mouth, only to be cut off by Nesta furiously unzipping her bag:

Nesta: that stupid fucking- are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? He- HE- he made me go to a soccer game last week and called it OUTREACH. 

Azriel, watching Nesta tap her phone at top speed: Are you...texting Cassian?

Nesta: that motherfucking, stupid, college admission essays- I’m going to-

Az: Nesta??

Nesta: Do you know how much of a disaster he is? Do you know how much of my time he has wasted? He wants my attention, he has my fucking attention. Why didn’t he say so?

(In the background, the boys behind them have, indeed, started another fire)

Three buildings away, Cassian, vibrating with a frequency that can be seen from space: Mooooor, you don’t understand. She’s so smart, she’s going to be trauma surgeon.

Morrigan, trying in vain to get a full rainbows worth of food coloring off her pearlescent manicure: Cas, you literally want to be a nurse. 

Cassian: Exactly

Morrigan gives up on her nails, distracted from Cassian’s lovelorn expression by his silenced phone flashing repeatedly: Who’s sparkle heart sparkle heart bomb peach firework sparkle heart? 

Cassian, flailing: 

Nesta, here expressed as sparkle heart sparkle heart bomb peach firework sparkle heart: Coffee. 3pm, Sunday. Yes?

Cassian, chewing on the inside of his cheek: Yes! Did the senior class shunt all their work down again?

Nesta: Not to work.

Cassian, life flashing before his eyes, thinking it was the sprinkles?!!

Nesta: A date.

Nesta: Is this supposed to taste like sour candy? 

- They go on the date. Cassian overcomes his transcendent nervousness by getting into a pretty squabble with Nesta over the book they’re currently reading in AP English. 

(The entire argument is a false premise, he loves Jane Austen. Nesta knows this.)

- Nesta takes him to this beautiful coffee shop that is like 70% just a lush tropic garden. 

(Elain sees them coming and has to literally duck behind the counter to laugh. Lucien, her shift partner and dearest friend, watches the whole song and dance of ordering, sitting under a flowering tree and staring at each like lunatics with utter glee, ready to rely every detail to Az)

The Thing is, they keep fighting. They keep fighting, but Cassian’s smile gets softer and softer, his laugh brighter and brighter. The arguing is turning into banter and Nesta is actually? having? So much fun?

- The thing is, Nesta needed a plan to survive. 

But maybe- maybe Cassian was there all along. Maybe, if she can’t be distracted, the obvious answer is to stop letting him make her crazy and- and let him in. 

Maybe, she can hold onto responsibility for everything and still let someone else have a little responsibility for her.

Maybe, Cassian is exactly what she needed. 

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, popsicle181!

Apologies once again for the delay on your birthday gift, @popsicle181​! We hope you had a wonderful birthday back on the 5th, and that you got all you wished for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a story just for you!

For: popsicle181

Prompt: I would love anything with a college theme (maybe a first meeting) if possible.

Authors Note: I would like to apologize for the late submission of your birthday drabble. But I wanted to make sure that you received the best story possible and I hope you don’t mind the little journey we’re taking.  There are many bonds, the bonds of friendship, the bond of family, and the bond of love. Some bonds can never be broken. Special thanks to Norbertsmom for her encouragement and beta skills

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

Kindergarten: 

Katniss held her father’s hand tightly.  “Papa, do I have to go?”

“Yes half-pint, you have to go.”

Tears filled her eyes. “But I don’t want to leave you and mama.”

Her father kneeled down in front of her. “Tell you what. It’s not going to be easy for your maw and me to let you go to school for so long, but I can’t be selfish. I can’t keep you home and not let you learn anything. Especially since you want to be a big sister. And one day when you do become a big sister you’re going to want to read to them, and help them with their homework.”

Katniss looked down. She did want to be a big sister.  Livi Bard had a baby brother she got to help take care of. Katniss wanted someone to sing to, to play with, and wanted to teach all the things her mama and papa taught her. “I do want to read the baby stories.”

“Plus, if you learn how to write, we can write a song together.”

Her little head popped up, “Really!”

“Yeah.” 

Katniss looked at the massive building. “Okay papa, I’ll go to school. I need to learn to write a song.”

With that resolved Katniss marched purposefully into the building and went about her day. She learned how to hold a pencil and was tracing her name when she heard a soft cry in the room. Turning her head she saw a small boy hiding amongst a fortification of blocks. A group of boys were snickering at him. They ran away after the teacher appeared. 

Katniss stood up in her chair to peer at him. His round little face was angelic and his blond curls were a riot. His eyes were wide and filled with tears.  His pale cheeks were splotchy and he bit his lips to keep from crying in earnest. Katniss felt a deep stirring in her heart for the little boy. Getting down, she walked over to him and sat down. She didn’t like hearing other kids cry.  She began to build up the fort around both of them all the while humming. She noted the sweet smell of cinnamon. He reminded her of the snickerdoodle cookies her mama liked to bake.

“Twinkle, twinkle…” Katniss sang, “little star-”.  Her father sang to her whenever she was having a bad day. She hoped it would help the little boy. Katniss leaned over him and took a brick as she sang softly.  He stopped making noises as she finished her song. 

“You have a pretty voice,” the shy boy said. His tear filled eyes glanced at her with awe.

“No I don’t,” Katniss wrinkled her nose, “My papa has a better voice. Why were you crying?”

“The other kids were making fun of me, because of my name,” he whispered.

“What’s your name?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

Katniss nodded. 

“My name is Peeta.”

"I like your name."

 His blue eyes widened, awe in his voice, "You do?"

Katniss smiled.

"What's your name?"

Katniss shrugged. “My name is Katniss. It’s a plant that grows in the mud. Do you want to be my friend?”

“Sure.”

From that moment on Katniss was attached to Peeta. They were best friends all throughout Kindergarten. They were a team, coloring, defending the smaller kids in class from the bullies. 

Peeta learned Katniss became cranky when hungry, he always brought an extra cheese bun to share for snack. Katniss learned Peeta's favorite color was orange. She gave him all of the shades of orange from her crayon box. 

They shared their lunches together, and when Katniss got sick in class Peeta sat with her inside of the nurses office. He held her hand until her father came, and one day in class when Peeta tripped Katniss caught him before he fell into a chair.

“Peeta and Katniss sitting under a tree K - I - S - S- I - N - G…” one of the kids snickered one day. 

Katniss narrowed her eyes, becoming mad by the taunting.

 “Maybe one day we will be in love and get married and have the baby in the baby carriage. We’ll always be together,” Peeta replied.

Katniss snapped out of her anger. She turned to him and the thought of having Peeta, just like her mama had her papa made her happy.  “Always?”  

His gaze was unflinching, yet filled with tenderness. "Always."                                                 

The words formed a bond deep within her little heart. They were a team before but after this, they became inseparable. Nonetheless as all stories have a beginning, they also have an ending. Theirs had to come to a stop as Kindergarten came to an end. 

During play time on the last day of Kindergarten, they sat with their little arms wrapped around each other, as if trying to absorb as much as they could of the other.  When dismissal time came, they were not excitedly speaking about summer plans. Katniss sadly sat with Peeta in the class holding his hand.

“Peeta,” the Kindergarten teacher called. “Your father is here to pick you up.” 

Katniss squeezed his hand tighter.

“I’m sorry Mr. Mellark, Peeta’s normally picked up by his brothers.  Your son and Katniss have quite the bond. They are a pair of star crossed lovers,” the teacher explained. “They are so sweet.”

Peeta and Katniss stood, tears gathered in her eyes. 

“Promise you’ll remember me.” Peeta hugged her.

Katniss who at first didn’t want to go to school had discovered a reason to go to class everyday. 

“Always.”

“Here.” Peeta gave her a heart with a picture of them together,  he’d spent hours in class drawing. 

Katniss gave him an orange ribbon he liked.

They tearfully separated on the last day. Each one staring at the other over the shoulder of their respective fathers.

Sixth Grade:

“Dear Katniss,

I couldn’t believe it when I read you are in Mr. Raj’s class.  I am also going to be in Mr. Raj’s class. It’s going to be so much fun this year we are going to be in the same school and I heard Mr. Raj is a great math teacher.”

Katniss couldn’t believe her eyes.  She put down the letter. After they separated in Kindergarten, Peeta found out her address and he sent her a picture. It was a surprise to see the carefully drawn picture from her friend. It lifted Katniss' sadness. Her father encouraged her to draw him a picture in return. In six years the bond that began in Kindergarten grew. She learned Peeta lived in a very affluent part of town. Her home was humble in comparison, a two bedroom home that her father was restoring.  She and her baby sister Prim shared a bedroom. 

She was sitting at the study desk in the living room reading her letter.  Prim was already asleep in their room upstairs. Her mother walked by humming as she carried a laundry basket upstairs.  Katniss was trying to figure out what to write to Peeta. 

“So what did young Master Peeta write?” Her father joked sitting next to Katniss.

“Daddy.”  Katniss could feel the sting of the blush hitting her cheeks.  Her father learning her pen pal was well off he joked that Peeta was richer than Mayor Undersee. Katniss didn’t like it but her mother often told her that her father was only having fun. 

“We’re going to the same school in the fall and we’ll have the same math class.”

Her father whistled. “That’s pretty important stuff.”

“Yeah,” Katniss breathed. 

“What are you going to tell him?”

“I was going to say how happy I am and about how this summer you taught me to use the bow and arrow.”

“Well don’t stay up too late.”  Her father stood, and ruffled her hair. “I’ve got to change that cable, it’s frayed,” he said pointing to the floor lamp by the garbage bin.  

Katniss nodded.  She began to write, but what she wrote didn’t sound good. She tore the paper from her note book and threw it in the trash. Time began to  tick away, as the trash bin filled up. Katniss sleepily glanced at her letter, she yawned and she placed her head on the table. 

Coughing, she woke up to see her room was filled with smoke. Getting up she saw the trash bin was on fire. The curtain caught fire and Katniss screamed. Moments later her father ran down the stairs. Katniss ran from the desk into his arms. 

Her father tore open the front door,  and put her on the sidewalk, “Go to the neighbors house and call the fire department.”

Katniss nodded, and took off as her father ran back into the house.

“Mr. Wyler, Mr. Wyler,” Katniss pounded on the door.  Tears streamed down her face. 

“Katniss.” Mr. Wyler opened the door.

“My house is on fire please call the fire department!” 

“Alex what is it?” Mr. Wyler’s wife asked.

“Call 911,” Mr. Wyler said, stepping outside to look at her home.

Katniss ran back home. but her house was burning. Her father ran outside with Primrose. “Stay with your sister, I’m going to get mommy, okay.”

“Daddy,” Katniss yelled. Mr. Wyler pulled her back. Katniss turned to her sister and put her arms around her. That was the last time she’d seen her father alive. The fire was started by the floor lamp. The frayed wires lit the papers from the waste bin on fire. It was her fault for not being able to write, to communicate well. She blamed herself for her parents deaths and she closed herself off. 

Katniss vowed she would never allow others into her heart, for fear of losing them. Katniss and Primrose moved to another town with their uncle Haymitch Abernathy. She pushed the memory of Peeta away. She eventually met another boy named Gale, but she never let him get close and pushed him away at every opportunity.   

 College:

Katniss hated college. She wanted nothing more than to quit and go home. But to be honest she didn’t really have a home anymore. After her parents died and Katniss and her baby sister moved in with Haymitch nothing was the same. Haymitch wasn’t really her uncle, but he was the person her parents entrusted the care of their girls to in their will.  Haymitch and his wife were not a typical married couple, they always bickered. Aunt Effie detested uncle Haymitch's geese. UncIe Haymitch reminded Effie on a daily basis that they lived on a farm.

Kathiss was going to stay on at the farm helping Haymitch run the place, but Haymitch changed all of those ideas when he showed her her parents’ last will.  Going to college was the one thing her parents wanted for Katniss and Prim. Unbeknownst to Katniss, their parents had a college fund for each of the girls. 

The fund and her scholarship she won for archery had secured her place in Panem University. Katniss was a shy person by nature and the bustling nature of the university overwhelmed her. While other freshmen met and became friends with the kids around campus, Katniss avoided people, people like her roommate. 

 The first few days, her roommate Clove was your average girl next door. Then precisely at midnight on the Saturday of that first weekend she shaved her head. The next day Clove painted her half of the room black, and she bought a set of paring knives that she used for target practice.  Katniss was eternally grateful when on the following Monday Clove found a guy and moved in with him. Clove took all of her clothes and most importantly, her knives. 

For the past 2 weeks the room was quiet and peaceful. Katniss didn’t have to put up with Clove’s screeching music. And although she enjoyed  having a room to herself, Katniss admitted to herself she was lonely. She missed her sister.  She missed the familiar sounds of Haymitch's geese. The click- clack noise of Effies heels,  as she walked on the hardwood floors. She even missed Haymitch and his cantankerous ways.

Katniss' internal strife must have shown on her face because her sister was trying to make her feel better. 

“Cheer up Katniss,” her baby sister said through the computer screen.

Katniss grimaced. Only a handful of people could tell what she was really thinking. She effectively hid her real feelings often. Life had taught her that putting her real self out there only caused hurt and pain. Her sister, her uncle Haymitch, and Peeta knew the real Katniss. Thinking about the boy with the warm blue eyes always caused flutters in her stomach. 

Katniss shrugged.

“Look, I know you didn’t want to go to college, but trust me. Little things always lead to something bigger.”

Her sister was always spouting encouraging statements, like the one found on those posters.  Katniss rolled her eyes. 

“You are in a real mood tonight.” Prim grimaced, then said, “I hate to do this to you but do you remember when I did you that favor…”

Katniss at first frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You know when you and Gale wanted to go hunting for deer in the middle of the night? Remember I told you you’d owed me.”

Katniss blinked, she remembered that night. She stupidly wanted to go, thinking it was purely to hunt. It turned out all Gale wanted was to drink beer and try to make out with her. She’d given Gale a shiner when he tried to make a move on her. Gale was embarrassed to admit she’d given him a black eye; he said he ran into a branch. That was the beginning of the end of her so-called friendship with Gale Hawthorne.  Prim had covered for her that night.

“What do you want you little shyster?”

Prim gave Katniss that grin that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Her sister was typically the nicest person unless she was on one of her missions then Primrose was ruthless. 

“You must promise me the next time you go out you will speak to the first person you see.”

Katniss opened her mouth to protest.

“Katniss!”

Prim’s stern voice caused Katniss to shut her mouth. She mumbled, “Fine.”

“Good.” Her sister looked so proud of herself. 

“Prim!” Katniss could hear their aunt call, “Time for dinner!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go.” 

The screen went dark and Katniss flopped herself on the bed. Her eyes narrowed. There was no way she was going to complete the task Prim set up for her. Katniss became grinchlike in her thoughts. There were ways of avoiding people. She’d done it in high school. Gale was an anomaly. He wouldn’t leave her alone after he found out how good she was at hunting. He was annoying as the gum that got stuck to your sneakers. 

Sitting up, Katniss grabbed her pen and paper and jotted down a few notes:

eat breakfast at five in the morning 

get to class just as it began 

sit in the back of the class

buy lunch & dinner when the crowds are gone 

Study in the library at odd hours 

Wear a hoodie so that no one can talk to you. 

Wear your headphones so it looks like you’re listening to music 

With her plan set, she began to systematically avoid people. Katniss even purchased things like crackers, jelly, and peanut butter, chips and salsa to munch on so that she didn't have to leave her dorm room. During the week, she used shadows and stillness to get across campus to avoid the  crowds. Everything was going to plan, except for the week of Thanksgiving break. Katniss didn’t have enough money to go home, plus there was a massive snow storm forecasted. Katniss decided to stockpile some snacks from the student commissary that Wednesday evening. 

The campus was empty as nearly everyone left by the morning as to not get caught up in the blizzard. Katniss had one last class that ended at four-forty-five. Professor Coin didn’t let anyone out until the end of the class; the woman was merciless. 

Going to the commissary was a risk. However Katniss was low on supplies, and she needed something to drink and eat. If the snow storm was as bad as predicted, the school cafeteria would not be opening. She also hated the cold and she wasn’t going to leave her dorm room until Monday morning.

Katniss hoped there wouldn't be a lot of people cramming the small building. Those left on campus were probably like her, doing last minute shopping.  Katniss rushed out of class. The snow fell quickly and was accumulating. 

She got to the commissary and thankfully it was still opened. She rushed in and rebounded back against a solid form. 

“Woah,” a deep voice said. 

Katniss blinked as the world swayed as she fell backwards. Suddenly she came to a violent stop, and her vision came into focus;  she noted blond curls, warm blue eyes, and a gentle smile. She picked up on the strong scent of cookies. She looked at him then saw they were near a display of cookies and baked goods. A wave of nostalgia wafted over her as cookies and baked goods always reminded Katniss of her childhood friend Peeta. 

“I got you.” 

Katniss didn’t like to be touched. She’d clocked Gale for stepping into her personal space when they went on that phony hunting trip. However, being held right now caused her entire body to tingle. She felt the way her cheeks burned. Katniss was sure they glowed redder than an apple. 

“Are you okay?”

She wasn’t much of a talker and all she could manage was a little nod. 

A wave of familiarity hit Katniss. She shook her head, trying to understand what odd dimension she’d stepped into.  Much the way certain scents brought forth certain memories, there was something about the guy holding her that didn’t cause her to feel that instant rejection.  She didn’t mind his touch. 

Unlike Gale who had a current of negativity about him, this boy had a current of good. Katniss thought maybe she’d fallen and hit her head. She must have been in a dream like state, as everything around her blurred and the music that was always blaring in the student run commissary was silenced. Only they existed in this small bubble. He was handsome and debonair. And Katniss couldn’t help but give a  virtual stranger a slightly goofy smile. 

“Here, let me help you.” 

Katniss questioned why his voice caused her heart to palpitate like the beating drums from Jumanji. “Ahhh…’ the guttural sound that came out of her was sure to make an impression on the guy holding her. The more she stared at him the more attractive he seemed. 

“It’s okay,” he said holding her shoulders, as she slipped on the wet floor. 

He helped  her become upright and Katniss noticed how broad his shoulders were, how masculine his hands were. She also noticed his eyes were that elusive blue that changed color with his mood. Right now his eyes were a cheerful robin's egg blue, as he grinned at her. 

“Sorry.” Katniss blurted out embarrassed by her lack of coordination. 

"It's okay the floor is wet from the snow." 

"My friends call me Peet, not, P- E- T- E but P- E- E- T."

The spelling was unusual but at least his nickname wasn't painful. Gale called her catnip out of spite, because she decked him. "Katniss."

Peet's blue eyes widened at her name.

"I know it's not a usual name, it's a plant."

"It's a tuber that grows in the marshes with a creamy colored flower." He blushed and he rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed by what he was going to say next. "I know alot about flowers. I decorate cakes for a living."

"I hunt with bow and arrow," Katniss blurted. She opened her mouth and closed it, she felt giddy suddenly like when she was a child and the world included her parents.

"I sound like a geek." His cheeks became ruddy. Peet looked over her shoulder, “Man it’s coming down out there.”

Katniss blinked and forced herself from awkwardly gawking at Peet to the door she just came through. “Crap,” Katniss bemoaned. A few inches had fallen. 

“We should hurry up.  I’m in Crumpet Hall just across the way. Where do you live?”

“Greenly,” Katniss muttered. 

Peet gave her a low whistle. “That’s way across campus. If you don’t hurry you won’t get to your dorm room on time.” 

Peet was right, if she didn’t leave soon she wouldn’t make it to her building across campus. Her mind turned to the shelves, she needed to do a power shop, and get out. Thankfully there weren't a lot of people in the commissary.  “Thank you,” Katniss said. 

She hurried down the aisles quickly picking up what she needed. When she got to the cash register Peet was paying for his food.  She kept on staring outside at the snow. The visibility was getting worse.  Once done, Katniss bundled up to go outside. 

“Will you be okay walking all the way to Greenley?”

Katniss turned to him. “I hope so.”

Both set out in the snow. The path that led from the commissary to the dorms was blanketed with half-a-foot of snow. The cold wind bit at her cheeks and it was getting harder to see. 

"KATNISS!" Peet yelled out to her when they got to the fork in the path.

Kathiss stopped walking, he was only an arms length away. He got closer to her, as the snowfall dampened the sound of his voice.

"You should come with me,” Peet shouted. “I have a suite, my roommates are gone for the break. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

She trusted Gale because he was her hunting partner, but didn’t trust him outside of the woods. Her instincts about Gale were spot on. After they fell out he started going out with Madge, the mayor's daughter. Then he began the name calling.  Looking into Peet’s eyes she wasn’t sure she should trust him.  Just then she heard thunder and she jumped out of fright. 

“It’s getting worse out here, we need to get to safety,” Peet said. “I lost my brother in a snowstorm!” He held out his hand to her.

Katniss heard the desperation  in his voice. Learning he’d lost someone caused her to acquiesce.  She took his hand. 

Together they walked toward his dorm room. A walk that normally took five minutes took nearly fifteen. Peet waved his ID card in front of the scanner to get into the building. Once inside, the warmth stung their cheeks, but it felt good. 

“Come on, my room this way. I can throw your coat and stuff in the dryers downstairs.

Katniss followed him through the winding corridors to his room. Using his ID card he opened the door to his suite. There were two doors and off to the side a small living area and a kitchen with another door. 

As he walked toward the kitchen Katniss saw Peet had a limp. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He put the bags down. He sat down. “I have a fake leg,” He knocked on his leg.

Katniss would have never guessed that he had a prosthetic. The more she got to know about him, the more intrigued she became. “I’m so sorry.”   

“It was a long time ago.” Peet shrugged. 

The walls in the kitchen were painted a soft orange. The color struck something within her and once more she was hit with a sense of familiarity. She continued looking around at the kitchen. He had things that no average college guy would have. 

There was a set of professional knives inside of a case.  Stainless steel pots and a cast-iron pan hung neatly from a wall. There was a marble block and a wooden rolling pin neatly tucked away in a corner. And his spices were lined up on the counter.  Saffron, thyme, Rosemary, allspice, clove, ginger, caraway, cardamom, nutmeg, dill, cinnamon we're just a few names she read. As a hunter knowing your prey’s environment helped you figure them out. Seeing Peet's environment led her to believe that what he said about being a baker was true. He was honest.

"I'm going to go get some towels and if you give me your coat, like I said, I can toss it in the dryer."

He walked out of the room as she removed her coat.

 She was only removing  her jacket, but for some reason it felt so intimate, as if she was peeling back a layer, exposing her soul. 

She should have been terrified; she was in the dorm room of a stranger. Yet there was something compelling about Peet, an underlying sweetness and goodness that she found in only one other person, her sister. Like an old pair of shoes, comfortable and familiar. 

“Here,” Peet said, handing her a fluffy robe. “It’s a bit chilly in here, my roommate always complains that if I could I’d have the thermostat set to zero.”

Katniss wasn’t expecting  robe, but she took it, handing him her coat.  When he walked out she sniffed his robe, it smelled of cinnamon and it made her smile. Her father always smelled of fresh pine. Katniss slipped on the robe and instantly felt a warmth that spread from her inside out. The door opened and Peet walked back in, he smiled at her, and his eyes turned a dark blue. 

“Good, are you hungry, I’m going to make us some bread, maybe some cupcakes.”

“You don’t have to,” Katniss protested.

“It’s nothing. I made dough earlier. I've been letting it rest. I just have to sprinkle some herbs on top.”

It sounded wonderful, but Katniss didn’t want to give him any more trouble. “It sounds like a lot-” Katniss was going to say more but her stomach growled.

“Yup that settles it, grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and cupcakes.”

Katniss nodded. 

“Have a seat, the remote is somewhere by the T.V.,” Peet said, washing his hands. 

Taking her book bag, Katniss sat down in the living room. There was nothing on the television; all of the local channels were covering the snow storm.  Her phone pinged with a message.  

It was a message from Prim asking her if she was fine. 

Katniss looked up at Peet. She asked herself if she was fine, and for the first time since coming to college Katniss could honestly say she was fine. She replied to her sister.  With a soft smile on her face, she began watching him cook. 

Peet’s movements in the kitchen were efficient, like the chefs she’d seen on TV.  He took out several cookie sheets and put them down on the counters.  From the fridge he took out  tomatoes, peppers, and a bowl covered with a dishcloth. He set the oven to preheat.  

Katniss moved from her position to the kitchen table so she could watch him. His hands were steady and quick as he put tomatoes and peppers on a cookie sheet. He sprinkled the tomatoes and peppers with olive oil, seasonings, salt and pepper, before putting them in the oven.  He next set to work on the bread.

Fascinated, Katniss watched on as Peet took off his sweater and the white t-shirt he was wearing showed off just how fit he was. His back muscles moved under the t-shirt as he worked on the cupcakes. Peet was making them from scratch and not from a box.  Her mouth watered. If it wasn’t for the pinging sound of her phone, Katniss would have continued to gawk at Peet. 

It was Haymitch telling her to be safe. Katniss and her uncle had a strange relationship. They understood each other, but they never talked. Haymitch instincts were as good as her own. He never liked Gale.  She sent back a thumbs up emoji. Glancing up, she knew instantly Haymitch would like Peet. He had that inherent goodness Prim had, and Haymitch had taken to her baby sister immediately. 

“You don’t remember, do you?” He asked as he put water in the  kettle to boil. 

 Katniss found this question odd. “Remember you? We’ve just met.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure we met before.” 

He chuckled, then turned to face her. “You gave me this,” Peet took out something from his pocket and looked at it fondly. “You disappeared on me.  I could have used a friend.” 

He put the scrap of faded ribbon on the table and Katniss' eyes widened. “Peeta.”

���When I saw your eyes I thought it was you, but then you said your name and I just knew. There aren’t many Katniss’ in the world.”

Katniss eyes filled with tears. The boy she’d been writing a letter to, that caused the fire was standing before her. Though he wasn’t unscathed, he lost a brother and leg. “My parents died. We had to move.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“You wouldn’t have known; you were a kid. We were both children.” Katniss couldn’t move, however the ribbon mocked her. He carried it all of his life. The drawing he gave her had burned in the house. She didn’t know how to feel. 

“That winter break I lost my leg and my brother.” He looked down, his eyes turning dark, a midnight color as he recalled the painful memory. “We snuck out of the house to play in the snow in the middle of the night thinking the storm was over. The snow was so heavy we got lost getting back to our house. My brother covered me with his body, it’s why I lived, but I lost my leg.”

Katniss looked at his legs before her eyes moved up to his face. He looked just like she felt, in need of a new beginning.

The whistle of the kettle forced him to turn around. 

“Why are you stuck here for the weekend?” Peeta turned to hand her a cup of tea. 

Katniss took the cup, and debated telling him the truth. He’d been honest with her. There was no reason to lie, besides she wasn’t a great liar. “I didn’t have enough money to go home,” Katniss automatically followed her answer with a question. “ What about you, why are you stuck here?”

“Nobody wants me home,” Peeta said. 

Katniss frowned. It wasn’t the statement itself, but the way he said it, as if he was unloved. “Why?”

He turned around and shrugged, “I’m not needed.” 

The smell of the apartment filled with the lovely scent of oregano and broiling tomatoes.  Peeta shaped up the bread in his hands as if he had been doing it all of his life.  “Anyone who can cook like you is worth their weight in gold. Right now my aunt is preheating the oven to cook the frozen dinners she purchased.” Katniss looked down at her idle hands. “I haven’t had a cooked meal in years.”

“My mom, she blames me for the death of my brother. She was relieved when I decided to come to Panem. She wasn’t at the train station when I left.”

Hearing how cold his mother was caused Katniss to pursed her lips. She stood and on impulse she hugged him from behind. All of those childhood sentiments filled up in her heart and all that he’d told her made her understand something. Prim was right, she needed someone in her life. And the universe had brought her friend back to her, despite all of her careful planning. 

Peeta turned around and hugged her back. She stood on tiptoe and sniffed the collar of his shirt and the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla caused her to feel at home. She closed her eyes. 

“I’ve missed you,” Peeta murmured into the crook of her neck. His hot breath fanning the sensitive skin, making her feel alive. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” Katniss replied.

“I’ve never forgotten you, Katniss.” 

Katniss could feel the rush of heat to her cheeks as she blushed and butterflies filled her stomach. 

Peeta pulled away and then he grinned. “I better get you fed. If I recall you got really testy when hungry.”

Katniss laughed, then sat down. She picked up the ribbon. Primrose was right; from something small something great had happened. One day, she decided, she would tell their children of how a little ribbon led to a love of a lifetime.

FIN 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Rivals

A/N: @obsessedwithrandomthings​ requested some Neville angst in the form of enemies to lovers from me so here is what I hope is Neville angst! Honestly, it’s more rivals with a lot of unresolved sexual tension but I still hope you like! She also made this wonderful banner! I also don’t know if you can tell but I am really inspired by greek mythology and witchcraft lore in general (I'm a historian, what can I say?) and this fic is full of it so if that’s not your thing, then I apologise! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Rival professors

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, gets a lil bit steamy

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a man on the earth that could infuriate you more than Neville Longbottom.

And you had known Draco Malfoy for over a decade.

There was a history between the two of you; a natural hatred that came with the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, but there was always something more. A deeper attraction that ran between the two of you despite how hard you rejected it.

He felt it too; and he fought it with every breath.

You thought you would get some reprieve upon your appointment as the Divination professor at Hogwarts, but as you entered the staff room your first week there, Neville Longbottom was stood speaking to Headmistress McGonagall.

“You have got to be shitting me?” You cry.

“Professor (Y/L/N)!” McGonagall admonishes.

“I’m sorry Headmistress, but seriously? Longbottom?”

“I’m not thrilled about the prospect of working with you either.” Neville drawls.

McGonagall looks between the two of you, a small frown pulling down the corners of her mouth, “I do hope you’ll get along in front of students.”

You glare at the tall brunette, “There’ll be no issue with that on my part, Headmistress.”

Neville returns your glare with just as much acid, “The one thing we’ll agree on then.”

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

It’s the little things he does that bother you; such as smirking at you from across the Great Hall or taking the last of the milk in the staff room. Neville knows exactly how to get a rise out of you, and he does an excellent job of it.

The rivalry that had seemingly ended upon the end of your education, promptly started back up again.

Constant competition broke out between Neville and yourself: who got the higher grades? Who had the highest pass rate? Who got the most laughs out their students?

It never ended. He would goad you, and you’d goad him right back. Practical jokes would be played on each other often. You were both frequent customers at the Weasley twin’s joke shop where materials were hoarded, and plans were formed.

McGonagall watched the two of you bicker in the staffroom; a regular occurrence. She watched the both of you argue from across the room with a fond look on her face. The rivalry would always be present between the two of you; and she was surprised – to say you were a gifted seer, you had not foreseen the palpable tension between Neville and yourself.

She watches the back and forth between the two of you; head moving as if watching a muggle tennis match. Insults and jibes are thrown between you both and yet, despite the bitterness of the words, there was no major malice in your voices.

McGonagall sips at her tea, rolling her eyes at the two of you. She supposes that it would only be a matter of time now.

----------

The week before term starts you get a letter of rejection in your notice box. Your application for the money for new textbooks had been denied. You scrunch the paper in your hands; feeling the all too familiar emotion of frustration running through your veins. Your argument for the textbooks was sound; it would be easier for the school to purchase the materials for the students than to rely on the students to use their own money.

You knock on the heavy, wooden door of McGonagall’s office; entering upon hearing her grant permission. “Headmistress, why has my application for new textbooks been rejected?”

“We’ve had to siphon funds for the Herbology trip.”

You see red, but keep a lid on your temper in front of your boss, “Pardon?”

“Divination is an elective subject; Herbology is compulsory through all seven years.” McGonagall reasons.

“So because of that, my students have to use textbooks that are falling apart?”

“We can add the material onto the reading list if that makes anything better?”

You sit back in your chair, “Term starts in a week. Students will have bought their books already. The very reason I applied for the textbooks was so that students didn’t have to buy them.”

McGonagall holds her hands up, “I’m sorry, Professor.”

You sigh through your nose, standing to leave, “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”

Anger rises within you; all directed at the maddening Herbology professor. You understood that Herbology was a compulsory subject, and that it was very useful in determining a student’s future career as a Healer or a Potioneer. But Divination was becoming increasingly popular among the muggleborn students who grew up knowing the tales of tarot reading, palmistry and clairvoyance. And after the war, so many students sat in the class hoping for a relief in their grief – to find an answer to the well-asked question, do they find peace?

You confront Neville in the staff room, “The reason I cannot get new textbooks for my Sixth Years is because you’ve used the money for a trip to London to meet Herbert Beery?”

“He taught Herbology here before Professor Sprout, it is a worthwhile trip!”

You pause the rant sitting at the tip of your tongue; letting his words settle. “Repeat those very words for me, Longbottom.”

Neville frowns, “What?”

“Repeat. Those. Words.” You enunciate; each syllable pronounced.

“Herbert Beery taught Herbology here before Sprout. It’s a worthwhile experience for students interested in taking the subject further.”

The cushion in your hands hits Neville in the face. He looks at you astonished as you shout, “You’re taking students to meet an ex-professor?”

“What aren’t you understanding about this?” Neville questions as another cushion hits his face, “Stop doing that!” he yells.

“Why didn’t you bring him here?! He knows the school; it’s known territory! And it would have saved enough money so I could get my textbooks!” You throw more cushions at him; enjoying the way he has to dodge them. “You didn’t think this through at all, Longbottom.”

“Calm down, (Y/N). Your students can always buy the textbooks.”

“Not this close to term starting!” You throw yourself down onto the couch with a groan, “You’re an arsehole.”

Neville glares, “This trip is a once in a lifetime experience for my students. Herbert Beery is officially retiring from the field after this lecture.”

“And yet you couldn’t invite him to Hogwarts?”

“No.”

You stand, shoving his shoulder as you pass him to leave. “I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed I am. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Leaving him there, surrounded by couch cushions, you take a breather in the courtyard. Inhaling the fresh air, you start to see things more clearly. It seems that a friendship would never exist between the two of you; the rivalry stemming from Hogwarts running so deep that it could never be breached by kind words and actions.

A plan forms in your head for the perfect revenge, and it would mean a visit to Diagon Alley.

---------

If there was one thing that your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught you, it was if you were going to prank someone, you had to make it a good one. George and Fred Weasley are more than happy to help you enchant the chalk; neither asking too many questions – they see the mischievous glint in your eye and know not to interrogate too much.

Neville walks into his classroom to find his students already sat in their seats. He lets them continue socialising as he sets up his materials for the day; this lesson focusing on the theory behind Herbology rather than hands-on practice. He grabs his chalk from the bottom of the board, proceeding to write the date and title before turning to his class, pulling their attention away from their friends and on to him.

It takes him two minutes to notice to amused expressions and the stifling of laughter.

It takes him five minutes to figure out why.

On the chalkboard behind is a caricature of his face on the body of a baby Mandrake. He’s crying big, fat tears that make their way down the length of the board before turning to dust at the bottom.

Neville can feel his face heat from the anger building within him and coursing through his veins, setting them alight. He knows exactly who’s behind this, and it isn’t any of his students.  

--------

Your class settle into their assigned seats; the crystal balls already placed in the centres of their tables. Once upon a time, students would groan at the sight of them, but now they regard them with interest.

You grin at your students, knowing what lesson they had last, “How was Herbology?”

Thomas Wadsworth in Ravenclaw begins to laugh, “I knew you would have something to do with it, Professor.”

“Was it obvious?”

He shakes his head, “Not really, but everyone knows of your rivalry.”

“How did he react?”

Shea Bard in Gryffindor raises her hand, “He went very red and muttered some curses before teaching us something else.”

You rub your hands together, “What else? Was it funny?”

“Very,” Shea nods, “But we didn’t dare laugh, no-one was in the mood to get a detention no matter how funny it was.”

You clap your hands together, pleased with the outcome. You’d have to send a thank you card to the Weasley twins for their genius minds.

“Why do you have this rivalry with Professor Longbottom?” A voice from the back asks.

Other students turn their eyes from their crystal balls to you; more interested in this topic of conversation rather than predicting their neighbour’s future.

You shrug, “We’ve never liked each other. He’s a Gryffindor and I’m a Slytherin.”

Thomas scoffs, “That can’t be it, surely? Give us something more, Professor.”

“What more is there? We went to school together and we never got on.”

Shea smiles, “With all respect Professor, you have to be aware of the tension between the two of you.”

“Tension?” You question, eyebrows furrowing.

Thomas raises his hand, counting the syllables off with his fingers, “Sex-u-al ten-shun.”

You stare wide-eyed at your class. Shea frowns, “Oh man, you weren’t aware of it were you?”

You clear your throat, “I have to know, how did my personal life become the topic for this class?”

“Since you won’t make a move on Professor Longbottom.”

“Thomas!” You chide.

He frowns, “I’m only saying what everyone else was thinking. It’s so obvious you fancy each other, it’s sickening.”

“Professor Longbottom and I have never gotten along. The most you’re going to see out of us is rivalry and cold stares.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, “Okay, Professor. If you get together before Christmas, Frances owes me Butterbeer for a month.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your bet in mind, Thomas, thank you.” You drawl with an unimpressed look, “Let’s get back to our crystal balls shall we?”

And just like that, the conversation over your personal life and your relationship with Neville Longbottom was over.

--------

The sound of your classroom door slamming shut has you jumping in your spot. You press a hand to your chest; trying to slow your racing heart as you take in the angry figure of Neville Longbottom.

“I know it was you.” He states, enunciating every word as if they were its own sentence. “I know it was you that planted the enchanted chalk in my classroom.”

You place a hand on your heart, grinning, “I am hurt that you would accuse me of such a thing, Longbottom.”

He stalks towards you, pressing you into your desk. He’s so close that you can smell the dirt from the greenhouse; it’s become the scent you associate with him.

“I spoke to the Weasley twins.”

Your grin shifts into a sly smirk, “The jig is up, you’ve caught me red-handed.”

The atmosphere between the two of become charged. The electricity in the air becoming magnetic; stirring something deep within your gut. Your eyes run over his face; taking in the widened pupils and the deepened breathing. He’s feeling it too; feeling it just as intense as you.

You resist the urge to drag him in for a kiss. You resist the urge to taste him; to memorise every inch of him with your fingers and mouth.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You ask, voice breathless. He pushes himself away from you, stepping away quickly as your words land.

Neville storms out of your classroom; running both hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. You watch him leave, trying to slow the racing of your heart to no avail. He had no idea the reaction he could pull from you, but you were also unaware of the reaction, you could evoke from him.

You push your hair back from your forehead as you analyse your feelings for the Herbology professor; wondering when they had started to lean more towards to love than hatred.

You need to consult someone or something whether it be your cards or your tea leaves; everything feels so gnarled and scrambled, it felt impossible to make heads or tails of it all.

----------

Neville begins to enact his revenge a week later.

It starts with sitting next to you at the weekly briefings; sitting close enough to you where you can feel the warmth exuding from his body – sitting close enough to you where his thigh presses against yours. Through the briefing, he’d lean into you, whispering into your ear, asking for your thoughts. You clench the hand that’s resting on your thigh, and you feel rather than hear Neville’s amused snort at your action. He pulls away when McGonagall calls the end of the briefing and you’re left feeling suddenly cold at the lack of his touch.

He then moves onto catching your eye at every meal time. Upon which he smirks, running a hand over his jaw, not missing the way your eyes track the movement of his fingers. You turn away with a frown, drawing Professor Flitwick into a conversation about the latest journal on charms.

He decides to interrupt one of your lessons on the second day of his revenge. He enters your classroom using the ruse of searching for a student. Your mouth dries as you run your eyes up and down his body. His work overalls are tied at the waist; his muscles gloriously defined by a tight white t-shirt spattered with dirt from the plants, and the tattoos he got in memorial for the second wizarding war stand out against his lightly tanned skin.

In the years you had known Neville, you had watched him transform from a bumbling teenager into what could only be described as a Greek God.

The expression that falls across his face as you take in the sight of him makes it very clear to you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You refuse to let him see how he’s getting to you. You shift your attention back to your class; not missing the way Thomas Cresswell points at Frances Bainbridge across the room, calling for the outcome of their bet. You roll your eyes at Thomas and Frances as you let the student Neville came for leave the classroom.

-----------

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him on the third day of his revenge.

He smirks, “Absolutely nothing.”

“If this is your revenge for my prank, it’s messed up, Longbottom.”

Neville’s eyes widen; his face the picture of perfect innocence, “What makes you think that?”

He walks away before you can answer, leaving you questioning the last week of your life.

You finish your week confused and frustrated. The feelings that had always been present for Neville were riled up; you were thinking of him more often, remembering how his thigh felt pressed against yours and the attention he paid you from across the Great Hall at every meal time.

Your heart races every time you think of him, and your stomach erupts in butterflies. You  spend your free periods thinking of how he would feel pressed against you, and how his stubble would feel under your lips. More often than not, you would find yourself with your head in your hands, cursing the day you ever let the Herbology professor into your life.

----------

It was the very last thing you wanted to do, but it was something you needed to do. A headache had been brewing now for three days, ever since Neville cooled off with his revenge for your chalkboard prank. The headache was making you sharper with your students that you intended to be.

This wasn’t a usual headache though; it had stemmed from your witches-eye - becoming a seer’s headache very quickly. The only way this could be relieved was to fall into it; opening your eye and being shown what you needed to see.

You find Neville in one of the many greenhouses dedicated to Herbology. He stands over the freshly potted Mandrakes, sprinkling fertiliser on them. You lean against the door to the greenhouse, rubbing the centre of your forehead. “Longbottom, I wouldn’t usually ask this of you, but I need access to the restricted greenhouse.”

Neville frowns, “Why would you need to go there?”

“There’s a plant I need. Would you please take me?”

“It’s nothing dangerous is it?”

You shake your head, refusing to speak as it would give away your lie.

Neville takes a set of keys from his pocket, searching for a minute for the lesser-used key. You follow him as he leads you to the restricted greenhouse. Such as with the library, the greenhouses had an area controlled against student use for it grew plants that were not only dangerous, but deadly. Mandrakes were one thing - the plants grown here had helped dark wizards gain fame, fortune, power, and all at a cost.

Neville waits at the door as you walk through the greenhouse, looking for the pale yellow flower covered in veins. You find it in little to no time at all, picking a few flowers from the plant. A petal would be fine for now; Henbane could be deadly if used in large quantities. Taking more than what you needed was your way of assuring that you wouldn’t need to bother Neville again.

You make your way back to Neville, smiling smally at the questioning expression on his face. “Did you get everything you need?” he asks.

You nod, patting the little bag in which you had stored the Henbane flowers, “I got it. Thank you, Neville.”

The walk back to the staff room is in silence. You make to walk back to your tower, ready to start the drying process for the Henbane flower, but a hand grips your wrist. You turn to find Neville holding you in place, “You’re being careful, aren’t you (Y/N)? There’s a reason that greenhouse is restricted.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, “I’ll be fine, Neville. Thanks for your concern.”

You walk away before he can say anything else.

--------

Nothing felt clear; everything felt frazzled and vague. It was as if the very threads of your life had become a tangled, snarled mess. Your realisation of your feelings for Neville had left you in a lurch; you’ve caught him watching you multiples times now – all with a puzzled expression on his face, as if reliving the restricted greenhouse and the revenge from your prank on him.  

Your hands run over the top of scrying bowl. The bowl had been handed down to you by your grandmother who had been a powerful seer; it depicts the Triple Goddess in her three forms – maiden, mother, crone.

Incense fills your office; the scent of the Black Henbane given to you by Neville. Henbane had been demonised for centuries; scholars noting that it was used in ointments and could help with conjuring of spirits.

You inhale its smell; your witches-eye opening, more sensitive in the right environment. So few witches possessed the gifts of a seer, it was rare for you to use your talent – usually letting the prophecies and such come to you naturally.

But this was needed. You needed answers for why your tea leaves were conflicting and why your tarot readings were not making sense.

An ethereal voice calls out in greeting, signalling that you had reached the other side, “You called me, daughter.”

“The path is foggy, and I’ve lost my way. I thought I was certain but now I’m not.”

“There is no way forward that does not have him in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The one who gave you the Henbane to call me forth. He is with you through it all.”

Neville? Neville.

“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”

“Do not be too sure, daughter.”

Your eyebrows pull together, a puzzled expression taking over your face. You knew your feelings for the professor had changed; had felt the long dormant passion flare again but there was nothing to be done about it.

The pull of the spirits is intoxicating; you can feel their hands on your shoulders and arms, caressing your face, pulling you closer and closer – begging you to help them find peace, to answer their questions, to help pay the ferryman but you cannot.

A male voice shouting your name has you refusing the screams of the spirits.

The voice shouts again; it’s closer now, corporeal hands shake your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your trance, but there’s no luck.

The goddess bids you farewell before everything falls black.

----------

Your vision comes back to you slowly; black spots still dancing across your view of the vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. You groan at the pounding in your head, bringing a hand up to rub at your forehead.

“(Y/N)?” A male voice asks; a familiar voice.

The feeling of a cool cloth being pressed to your forehead has you sighing in relief, “That feels nice.”

Neville’s face comes into view; his eyes run over your face, checking for what – you don’t know.  “You’ve been in contact with higher powers – that’s why you asked for Black Henbane, isn’t it?”

You take the cool cloth from him, “I needed to see something.”

“You put yourself at risk doing this.” Neville bluntly states.

You groan, “I know.”

“Was it worth it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, “Did you get your answers?”

You nod, averting your eyes – focusing on the vaulted ceiling rather than the man sitting next to you. Shame washes over you from the tone of his voice – reproach mixed with something akin to worry. You smile a little, “Neville Longbottom,” you tease, “Were you worried about me?”

“What was so important that you needed to contact higher powers? You know how addicting they can be!” He chides; ignoring your question completely.

You purse your lips, refusing to answer.

Neville leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, “What was so important?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“I was the one who found you, did you know that? I found you bent over your scrying bowl, talking to spirits and the higher powers. It was me who pulled you out before they could take something more permanent.”

“And I’m grateful for that, Neville.”

“But you won’t tell me why you had to consult them?”

You push yourself into a sitting position slowly; pausing only to stave off the wave of dizziness and nausea. Neville stands, his hands outstretched to help but you wave him away, telling him you’re okay. He doesn’t look like his believes you, but he steps back, nonetheless.

“I needed some answers about my future, about my feelings. It’s all so blurred, even my tea leaves don’t make sense!”

“So you decided to use your scrying bowl? (Y/N), you had trouble with this when we were students.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?”

“We weren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.”

“You noticed me?”

“I always notice you, that’s how I found you. You asking for Black Henbane had me consulting my own textbooks and when I read it was used to help see the future more clearly, I followed you.”

You both lapse into a heavy, charged silence. Neville throws his hands in the air before setting them on his hips as he paces the two steps in front of your bed. You want to groan in frustration; want to scream and shout but it would do no good.

“What are we doing, Neville?” You finally ask, voice tired and head foggy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean us. The pranks, the teasing, the unresolved tension.”

Neville sits back down, crossing his arms, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You pull the cloth from your forehead, glaring at the brunette, “Oh that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”

He glares in return but doesn’t say a word.

“We have been dancing around this for years, Neville. I’m sick of having to pretend I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You shake your head, “You piss me the fuck off, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He whispers.

“So what do we do?”

“Honestly, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Neville states, confidence running through his body.

“Dinner?”

“What’s wrong with dinner?”

You bite your lip, running your eyes over him. He’s standing again, as if unable to sit still through this conversation. His eyes are bright with happiness and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on; he’s entirely delectable. Merlin, in for a penny, as the muggles say, “How about we skip dinner and go to back to my rooms?”

Neville leans in close; his breath fanning over your face. He smells like recently mown grass, freshly fallen rain, and a hint of lime. It’s intoxicating. His eyes search yours for permission; you granting it as you tilt your face up to meet his, you close your eyes at his proximity, taking it all in. He lightly brushes his lips against yours, with a feather-light pressure that has you chasing him for more. He pulls away with a light chuckle at the look of frustration on your face.

“After dinner,” he promises.

The note of promise in his voice has your breath quickening and your toes curling. In the time that you had known this man, you had hated him but now, all you did was crave him.

His touch, his look, his attention. The goddess had promised you that there was no version of your future without him in it, and now...

And now, you were more than ready for that future.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You murmur, breathless from the thoughts running through your head.

---------

A month later:

Neville finds you in your classroom writing the information for your first lesson of the day on the board in chalk. He leans against the door as he closes it. Neville watches you; his eyes running over every curve and dip in your body, thinking of how less than twelve hours ago he was worshipping it with his mouth and hands. He bites down a groan at the memory; your gasps and moans echoing in his ear – he can still feel the dull ache of the scratches on his back, from your fingernails reaching for purchase.

He struts over to you; enjoying the surprised yelp that leaves your mouth as his arms wrap around your stomach, but he loves the way you soon relax into him, your hands coming to rest on top of his. Neville presses a kiss to the crook between your neck and ear, smirking against your skin as he hears your breath hitch.

Neville leans close, his mouth to your ear, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

You hum happily, arching into the touch of his hands as they trail lower, starting to undo the fastenings to your skirt.

You knew he would come; you’d played another prank on him, but this time you knew what the outcome would be.

You turn your face, pressing your lips to his cheek before trailing them across his jawbone, enjoying the look of your lipstick staining his skin. “What did you have in mind?” you whisper, breathless from the excitement coursing through your veins.

He smirks as he bends you face down over your desk.

*************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​ @summer-writes​

[marawritingstuff]

SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates.  I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written.   Come on, Amelia, no sleeping.   Time to write the memoriam.   Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here.   Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.  

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her!  Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style.  She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade.  Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts.  The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest.  As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air.  Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends.  Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence.  There is not much I can say now.  Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe.   We were both smart, extremely smart.  Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.”  Group projects were the new fad in education.   My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening.  When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help.    Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent.   I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school.  Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad.  Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students.  I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle.   However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began.  They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker.   Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in.  The unmistakable sound filled my ears.  “You Are My Sunshine.”   Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete.   She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her.  As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing.  At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers.  At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered.   Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off.      Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more.  One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me.  She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley.  Cute.  Assigned Seating.  I scanned the desks.  Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat.  The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo.   There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia.  A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling.  At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line.   When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back.  They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry.   That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine.  I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people.  Cheerleaders forming pyramids.  Football players making touchdowns.  Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance.    After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared.  My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees.  She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times.   Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything.   The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian.   Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD:   APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE:    SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead.  My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations.  You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze.  Screams and tears.  My mother hugging me.   Calling Susie.  It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now.   Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony.  The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me.  I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers.  The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car.  The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days.  One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother.  If I had only listened to Susie.  Or opened the e-mail.  Or done…anything.  

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled.  I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep.  As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold.  She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.”  The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole.  From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items.  The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out.   Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school.   Everyone scattered.   I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground.  Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away.  This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break.  Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week.     Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine.   When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving.    Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress.  Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium.   Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm.  Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights.  A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.  

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day.  She is survived by her grandmother.  Funeral arrangements will be announced.  Grief counselors will be made available in the main office.  School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye.  However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground.  Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth.  I sat in Susie’s car staring.  I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral.  Susie backed out but let me take the car.   Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left.   No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole.  As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within.  The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats.   Nothing worked.   Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers.  Books flew from students’ arms.  The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song.  My grandmother adored Nat King Cole.   Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system.  No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.  

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting.  There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall.   I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident.  Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over.  The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg.  He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status.  I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back.  However, the yearbook distribution had to be done.  On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye.  Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office.  Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class.  Susie should have been smiling back at me.  Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same.  Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors.  Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry.  I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer.  I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking.  Goodbye Jennifer.  

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year.  Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom.  No one objected.  Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities.   The question is will Sunshine be with us?  Will she stay at the school?  I don’t know the answer to that.   I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64: Chapter 2

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

But a lot can happen in six months.

Tumblr: x x

Ao3: x x x

May

Tryouts came and went with an excellent turnout, the best Katniss had seen ever. And in true Miss Trinket fashion, the assistant director had sought out the theatre and dance kids with the promise of getting to perform such an iconic story on the biggest stage they’ll ever have the privilege to perform on. Miss Trinket wanted the drama, the flair, and she didn’t have to go far to get it.

Even more surprising was that they actually showed up and were actually pretty good. Katniss had had her doubts when seeing the likes of musical star extraordinaire Finnick Odair saunter into the gym where auditions were being held, wearing that arrogant smile she always saw on him, but after seeing what he and the other theatre and dance kids could do with a flag, she admitted she was wrong and focused her energy on earning her place as captain.

Between her and Miss Trinket’s determination, Athens Ridge Marching Gladiators might have a good chance of finally beating Capitol Heights this year at PSU!

“We’re looking promising,” she told Leevy as they put together their instruments. It was the day after final rounds of auditions and she couldn’t stop thinking how at the end of today, Miss Trinket would post who was on the team and Katniss would finally know if she was made captain or not. She had done her best, she kept telling herself, and now it was out of her hands. The wait was killing her, though, and her poor bladder was taking most of the brunt, the constant need to pee every two minutes distracting her in all her classes today.

Had she proven to Miss Trinket that she was enough to be captain?

Her legs twitched closed, the need to pee returning.

“You should have seen Finnick Odair twirl a rifle,” Katniss said to distract herself. “It was insane how good he is! I always thought he was a bit full of himself, but maybe he has a right to brag. I’m pretty sure Miss Trinket’s going to use him as one of the spotlight guards.”

Leevy’s eyes widened, her thick-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose a bit. Her crush on the performer was not an unknown fact to Katniss. “Oh, do you think she’d have him play Romeo? I bet he’ll be Romeo. He’d make an incredible Romeo.”

Katniss snorted. “I’m sure he’d be up to the challenge.” Finnick Odair not wanting the titular role would come as more of a shock to her. Miss Trinket hadn’t revealed much about how she wanted to choreograph the show, but if last season’s Cirque du Soleil and Alice Through the Looking Glass the season before were any indications of how she envisioned next season’s show, she would be using color guard to visually tell the story of the star-crossed lovers. Miss Trinket always had “big big big plans” for them all. There was no way she’d pass up on someone talented like Finnick.

Mr. Abernathy gave the two minute warning before rehearsal started up and the girls leaned toward each other to tune their flutes. As they made adjustments, Katniss wondered who would play Finnick’s Juliet. Madge, maybe? She was a good height and her years of ballet served her well, being the lead spotlight guard two years in a row. Or Glimmer? She grimaced at the thought of Glimmer Macklemore being the lead spotlight, believing it would go straight to her head. Glimmer was by far one of the worst human beings Katniss has had the misfortune of knowing all these years, but the girl was graceful. “Like a swan on water,” Miss Trinket was known for saying about Glimmer’s talent.

I hope it’s Madge, Katniss thought, glancing slightly over at her friend who sat further down the row from her, Madge’s cheeks slightly puffed as she tuned her oboe. Yes, Madge would make an incredible Juliet.

*******

All her thoughts and worry over color guard went away during what ended up being a long and brutal rehearsal. It was hard worrying over who’d play Juliet to Finnick’s Romeo when Mr. Abernathy was out for blood. He was yelling at everyone today, not pleased that they had a concert in another week and sounded like a beginning band. What made the rehearsal even worse was much of his agitation was directed at her and the two solos she had. Over and over he made her play in front of the whole band, walking her through the notes, asking her snidely who controlled the tempo. By the time he threw up his arms in defeat, her face was a completely different shade.

“Sign up for a practice room, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy told her after her sixth attempt at a difficult run. “And maybe work on your fingerings instead of drooling over Finnick Odair, huh?” He moved his attention to his next victims and was just as merciless.

Slumping low in her seat, her throat tight with choked back tears, Katniss focused hard on her music, pretending she was just practicing when really it took all her strength not to cry. Snickers from the brass section could be heard, or maybe she was just paranoid that the whole band was laughing at her. Either way, no matter how hard she kept her attention on her music, forcing back tears from spilling over, she couldn’t hide how dark her face must look right now. Mr. Abernathy’s words played over in her head, causing her cheeks to warm even more. From embarrassment or anger, she wasn’t sure. The man was never one to mince words and was known for his sour temper, but this was the first time he’d ever taken it out on her. And he thought her, one of his most dedicated players, as nothing more than a teenage girl drooling over boys. 

She’d never hated the man more than in this moment.

“Hey,” Leevy nudged her, face sympathetic. “You okay?” 

Katniss stiffly nodded, afraid if she said anything, she’d break and start to cry, and that was definitely something she didn’t want to do in front of the whole band. 

“He’s being an ass today,” her friend whispered in comfort, playfully bumping their knees together. “You’re his best player and he knows it. He’s probably just mad because Coin took away the pizza buffet in the cafeteria.” Katniss gave a halfhearted smile, knowing her friend was just trying to make her feel better, but Mr. Abernathy was at least right about her playing. She really did need to practice more.

“Okay, we’re calling it today,” Mr. Abernathy sighed, slamming his scorebook closed. “It’s clear no one’s practiced since yesterday and it’s wasting my time. I better hear improvement tomorrow, or I’m going to have everyone play their part and have your whole semester grade be based off that.” 

“Practice, practice, practice!” Miss Trinket trilled from the back of the room, typing at the computer. “We want to be the best, don’t we?” Mr. Abernathy gave her the stink eye, like he wanted to argue her statement, but waved his hand, reminding everyone not to leave the band room until the bell rang.

“Well that was brutal,” Leevy joked halfheartedly, her eyes still looking at Katniss with pity. Katniss looked away, unable to stomach her friend’s obvious sympathies. She’d received enough of  that look to last an entire lifetime.

“Can’t wait until he starts threatening laps,” Katniss mumbled, her throat still tight. She just wanted to leave. Run to a bathroom stall to collect herself, but it’d be too obvious and the likes of Cato and Marvel calling her a crybaby kept her seated.

*******

They didn’t often have so much time to lounge around, especially before a concert, but Katniss took the opportunity to catch up on homework she’d been neglecting, too stressed about tryouts to bother with algebra and chemistry. Feeling like everyone was still watching her, waiting for her to crack, she tucked herself in the back locker room, between two instrument lockers, out of sight from her classmates. The space was tight and not the most ideal of places to hide, but it blocked out a lot of the noise from out front and let her take a few deep breaths in. She couldn’t cry until she got home, but at least it didn’t feel like her tears were strangling her any more. 

Taking out the beat up copy of A Tale of Two Cities from her bag, Katniss began scouring the chapters they were assigned to read (or sparknoted, in her case) for political symbolisms Mr. Heavensbee, her English teacher, was always quizzing them on during his infamous rapid fire quizzes. English had never been a strong subject for her, finding the books they read incredibly dull and full of nothing but tales about old white guys bemoaning about their manhoods, but grades was the one thing her mom actually paid attention to and hers were slipping in Heavensbee’s class due to these stupid quizzes. Her pencil circled another example, not feeling confident about it, but if her index card wasn’t pulled early on, all the obvious examples would be taken and this would be all she had to argue. 

“Good book?” She jumped, her head hitting the wall behind her, pencil stabbing her in the gums. Peeta Mellark stood in front of her, looking all casual in his dark denim jeans and grey shirt, his hands stuffed in his back pockets. He smiled at her scowl. “Sorry,” he said, and to her astonishment, it sounded like he actually meant it. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn’t,” she quickly informed, tucking her pencil in the book as a bookmark. “Just preparing to be publicly humiliated in English, that’s all. ”

“Heavensbee’s quizzes are brutal,” he agreed, still standing there, trying to be nonchalant, but his shoulders were way too tight to pull it off. It looked like it was taking all he had to be standing in front of her like this. Her hackles rose. Why should he look uncomfortable?  He sought her out. If anything, she should be the one uncomfortable, caged in a corner like this. “I think I almost cried during one last week,” he continued, not even looking at her now but at the locker next to her head. “Marvel wouldn’t stop making fun of me after that.” That didn’t surprise her, but it felt rude to point out what a shit person she thought Marvel Baxter was to Peeta’s face. 

“Yeah.” Katniss tapped her book, unsure what else to say. “Listen, I’m kind of busy trying not to fail and all, Peeta, so unless you have a question…?”

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his Converse, taking a deep breath in. It was a little unsettling seeing him like this, she realized, still confused why he was talking to her to begin with. Normally he knew exactly what to say, in any given situation she’d ever seen him in. 

“Okay, seriously,” she said at last, a bit more snappish than she meant. “What do you want? I don’t have time watching you sputter like a dead fish.” 

“I want to see how you’re doing,” he said in one breath. It was a totally innocent question to ask, but it felt more like a punch to the stomach, sending her back to when she was 11 years old and standing next to her mother and Prim as strangers she barely knew came up and smothered her in tight, smelly hugs. They cried over how young Sage was, still in his prime, and poor Cary, having to raise those two young girls on her own. The funeral had felt so surreal, her movements stiff and disjointed. Her voice hollow as she thanked the strangers for coming, trying not to cry in front of them as they passed. Her father’s death still hadn’t fully hit her yet and the only thing she wanted was to crawl into the casket with him and shake him awake, tell him this joke wasn’t funny any more.  Ha ha. He got her. Now could he please get up so they could go home?

 Katniss’ throat tightened at the sudden memory and she shoved her book in her bag, really needing to go before she did something stupid, like cry in front of Peeta Mellark.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to push past him. Peeta wasn’t only tall, but his wide frame stopped her from escaping as easily as she’d like. “Really.” 

“Katniss.” He grabbed her hand to stop her, but pulled away instantly, realizing he had no right to touch her. “You looked like you were about to cry out there and then you bolted—I wanted to see if you’re okay.” 

“I  wasn’t going to cry!” she snapped, her vision red now. There were only so many punches she could take in one class period, but it seemed the universe kept wanting to come for more. “I was doing homework, Peeta, and then you waltzed in, wanting to rub it in my face that I’m a terrible player. Were you hoping I’d cry? Is Cato secretly filming this?” She looked around the small room for Golden Ass’ burley frame. 

“Cato isn’t in here, Katniss,” he snapped back, then winced, realizing his mistake. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. What I meant was: Abernathy is a complete asshole and he shouldn’t have said those things to you. Katniss, you’re the best player in the band and he knows it.” Any other day, hearing the sweet sentiment twice in one period would have been a real confidence booster for her, but today, it just felt like pity. Leevy felt sorry for her and now freaking Peeta Mellark felt sorry for her, too. What a blow  that felt, looking into his sad blue eyes right now. 

“I don’t want your pity,” she sneered, not knowing what else to say, but if he kept looking at her like that, she was definitely going to break down crying. Then he’d just look at her with that pathetic sad expression, feeling even more sorry for her.  “Abernathy was right about my runs and I can handle his criticism like I do with everything else in my life: alone. So if you don’t mind.” And she tried to push past him. 

In typical Peeta fashion, he blocked her only exit. “I wasn’t pitying you, Katniss.” His tone sounded as sharp and annoyed as hers now. “I was being nice. I know you don’t know what that is because you think the whole world is out to get you, but it means caring about other people and being there for them.” She looked down at her feet at the sudden weight of his accusation, her hand tightening around the strap of her backpack.

They were so engrossed in their argument, neither heard the familiar clap clap clap of Miss Trinket’s heels before the small woman announced herself, causing them both to jump and turn to the small woman. 

“There you are!” the assistant director smiled. “Peeta, I have been calling your name. Didn’t you hear me?” 

Peeta glanced down at Katniss, his eyes still hard, before looking over at his teacher. “Sorry, Miss Trinket. Katniss and I were just...talking.” Why did he say it like that? He made it sound like they weren’t talking and by the twinkle of amusement in Miss Trinket’s eyes, she suspected nothing else from two teenagers hiding in a back room. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your... talking” —Katniss’ cheeks darkened again, wondering how fast it’d take for the rumors to start going around that she and Peeta were caught making out in the instrument locker room by Miss Trinket—“but I need to speak with you for a moment, Peeta. If you don’t mind?” She motioned for him to proceed ahead. 

Peeta’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Am I in trouble, ma’am?” 

“No, no!” their teacher assured. “Mr. Abernathy and I need to discuss something with you about this upcoming season. Nothing scary, I promise.” He went ahead with no further comment, his hands stuffed in his front pockets, as Miss Trinket hurried ahead to unlock the band office door. He didn’t look back at her as she stood there, hand still gripping her backpack, and somehow, that felt worse than his pity. 

Katniss, I’m so sorry about your dad. It’s so not fair. How are you doing? 

Katniss? 

Katniss? 

Are you there, Katniss? Hey, how are you doing?