404 dreams / morty smith x reader

valium / intro

772 words
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( a/n : reader shows up at 7:40 because in my kind of "au" ? i guess ? this high school starts at 8:00 based on my general info. quick note that this most likely takes place after the events of season 3 ep 1 :) )

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harry herpson high school.

you itched at the nape of your neck as you read over the boldly printed letters that stood at the top of the entrance. anything to distract yourself from the crawling anxiety that filled your gut.

as someone who wasn't familiar with being a transfer student, it was only natural to have worries and negative thoughts at the first arrival.

but you? damn, were you scared.

even without the stampede of teens ranging in grades fleeting the now empty hallways, you still were reckless.

only two days ago were you, and your parents, informed you were to arrive early on schedule instead of the normal time the students arrived. it was only reasonable, considering you still needed some sort of guidance and a schedule to follow. better than coming late and arriving in the middle of a class, for sure.

you walked into the separate room that branched off the hall, which had the "main office" sign above it. you refused to pay too much attention to the staff in front of you as you entered, only here for a quick "in-and-out".

a voice brought you out of your conscious where-a-bouts, one you presumed to be a middle aged women's voice.

"are you miss (y/n) (l/n)?" her voice rang out, eyes tearing off the monitor in front of herself.

"no, i'm just some fucking retard kid who wanders into a office early in the middle of a sc-"
"yes, m'am"

"please meet with your principle in the back." she turned her body horizontally to the right, pointing her finger in the direction of yet another branch of halls.

"thank you, m'am" you sighed, rearing around her desk and walking forward into the principles office.

immediately upon entering, you wanted to burst into uncontrollable laughter as you read the name card that stood in front of the rough-looking man that was before you.

"principle vagina"  you read subconsciously. huh.

he must have noticed where your eyes were placed, as he quickly spoke.

"please sit down. yes, that is my name if you're wondering." he grumbled, setting down the pen on papers discarded around his desk.

"i'll hand you your schedule in a second." he stated, reaching for a cabinet near his leg, and discarding a file out of it.

he pulled out a thin sheet of paper with another stapled to the backs side, and handing it to you.

"this is for you."
"thank you sir."

the conversation was quick, and dull. you managed to get out of his office briskly, stifling the childish laughter in your mouth.

you grasped your phone out of your pocket, checking the time that the clock showed.
"7:56" it read.

well, shit. 20 minutes early clearly wasn't early enough, acknowledging the hoards of people scampering throughout hallways.

wonderful. just wonderful.
.

out of all of the possible classes you had first, it was what you mostly struggled in, math.

or, if we're being technical, algebra.

you entered as soon as the bell signaled everyone to go inside their classes, walking in along side others. or, the tail ends.

while everyone took their seat, you took your place beside the teachers desk, awaiting some gawky introduction speech.

"settle down class! we have a new student."
you came to a understanding that you already hated this mans voice. something about it, how it was deep yet obnoxious made you dread this class more.

"this is (y/n), everyone."
the class lazily made their common "hi, (y/n)" commotion which was considering "welcoming".

you nodded your head, a way of a greeting instead of "hello". much more simplistic.

"there's a free desk in the very back across from morty, which is now your seat."
"morty, please rai-"

no words were needed for you to cut the male teacher off—whom was addressed by "mr.goldenfold"— as you trudged quickly to the back of the class, gaining the attention of a certain brunette.

the whole "hand raising to find your seat" clearly wasn't necessary, because there was only one person in the back of the class.

this, you assumed, was most likely morty.

you swung your bookbag underneath your legs in a swift motion, taking your seat in the poorly manufactured plastic that connected to a chipping desk.

you made yourself comfortable, laying your head down on the cold table as you focused on the mathematic lecture mr.goldenfold was giving at the front of the class.

it was pretty obvious, though, that this "morty" was not paying to attention to the assignment details at the front, but to nobody else but you.

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