#we give each other the biggest group hug the world has ever seen i love us alllllllllllllllll
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Draco admits his feelings
Walking into the Slytherin common room I see my best friend Pansy Parkinson. I had just finished potions class and wanted to go over some notes with her to study for our upcoming O.W.L.S. “Hey Love” I smile and give my best friend a warm hug. “Hey honey” she smiles and hugs back. “Shall we start?” I ask her. After about an hour of looking over and practicing some potions, we decide to kick back and relax by the fire. It’s a bit late, so it’s just us in the common room. My favorite thing in the world...Or at least one of my favorite things. I turn to Pansy. “So, how are things going with Blaise?” I ask her, wondering how things are holding up with her boyfriend who is also a part of our friend group. For reference, our friend group consists of me, Emi Grindelwald, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, who is Pansy’s lover, and Draco Malfoy. A.K.A the man that has had my heart since our first year. He just doesn’t seem to know it.... Pansy smiles “yea, we are doing good. He’s taking me on some surprise date for our anniversary” “Oooo you must tell me the details after” I giggle. She chuckles. “For sure...Soo anything new with Draco?” “How you always ask me this still baffles me. you know I don’t have the balls to tell him how I really feel. I don’t want to ruin our friendship” I say looking down. “He likes you Emi, everyone can see it except you” Pansy says. “You don’t know that Pans” I sigh. “well maybe nows your chance to find out” she says looking up to see Draco walking in the room. “See you in our dorm” she giggles and walks away “wait. don’t” I start but it is too late. She already walked down the stairs out of sight. “Hey Em, What are you doing out here so late” Draco asks sitting next to me. “I was studying with Pansy, but she left, now im just enjoying the peace and quiet” I say trying not to act nervous. “Yea, it is really nice when no one is here” he says in a soft sweet voice. Oh how I love him. “So Uhm- I-I have been meaning to tell you something” Draco said stuttering. Weird, I have never heard him stuttering before. He was always so confident. “sure, what’s up? are you okay?” I ask, concerned. “yea- I'm just gonna go out and say it” he takes a deep breath “I love you... as more than a friend. I think I have since our first year, It just took me a bit to realize. I was too scared to tell you because I was scared to ruin our friendship, but I just can’t hold it in any longer. I Draco Lucius Malfoy am in love with you Emi Aphrodite Grindelwald” He bursts out. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Draco, the boy I had been madly in love with since I first laid my eyes on him has just admitted his feelings towards me. I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there with wide eyes. “Please say something, anything” Draco says in a worried tone. I pull myself out of whatever shock I am currently in. “I’m sorry, I'm just in shock... Draco I feel the same way. I always have, since the day we meet.” I say still in complete shock from what he just admitted to me. My stomach in knots. This boy had full control over me at this point. Draco lets out a sigh of relief. “So, will you be mine?” he asks, still sounding a bit nervous. I smile. “Yes. yes of course” I say, more excited than I expected. He smiled a big smile. probably the biggest I have ever seen him smile. He then pulls me in and kisses my lips. Oh how I have longed for this. His lips feel even better than Imagined. so soft and gentle yet very masculine for his age. I felt if I could never get enough of it. suddenly we hear a few snickers and a “it's about damn time” coming from the corner. we turn around to see none other than Blaise and Pansy looking at us with huge stupid grins on their faces. “were you guys spying on us?” I ask letting out a laugh. “Well duh. we had to make sure you and Draco finally admitted your feelings for each other. it was getting exhausting watching you too secretly love each other” Blaise said as if it was obvious. “Yay, now we can go on double dates” Pansy said excitedly
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Title: Finish Line
Synopsis: You were inseparable friends growing up. It was when you became more than friends when things took a turn. Fast forward 4 years later, and you both are the biggest names known to the world. After running for so long you were given an opportunity. You decided it was time for you to return to someone you still loved, and a place you said you would never go back to. Home.
Posted for the fic event @kflixnet is having! Please go check it out and give them a follow! Used angst prompts 7 and 28
Genre: Slight fluff, Angst, Heartbreak
Pairing: Idol Ni-ki and Athlete!femreader
Warning: Heavy argument
WC: 1.4k
“This is your captain speaking. In about less than 30 mins we will officially be making our landing in Seoul, South Korea. As always thank you for flying with us and we wish you a happy holidays!” You were awaken by the captains voice and cheers and chat amongst the people on the plane. “I can’t believe I’m back here again.” you said while looking out at the night sky covered in lights. Seoul, South Korea, a place you had ran away from 4 years ago in pursuit of your dreams, or so you thought. You achieved your dreams, and became what you wanted to all your life, a athlete for the Olympics. Your name was known everywhere. You were known as “Unstoppable” to the world due to your hard working nonstop attitude. You achieved huge amounts of success and fame, but deep down it didn’t make you happy.
“I wonder has he forgotten about me? I mean it’s been so long.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled to a picture of you and another person. “Riki…” You whispered his name out as you stared at the picture. Riki Nishimura. You two were best friend since you were kids, or you were until you became more than that. You reflected on all the good memories you had together until you thought back to the night it all ended. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me that much y/n…” “I can’t….”
“I love you.” “Riki… Don’t lie to yourself.” Those were the last words you said to each other before you left for America. You remembered watching the tears flow down his face as you turned to leave. “He probably hates me…” you said as you turned your phone off. You gathered yourself before you exited the airplane, and entered the airport terminal. As you waited for your bags you stared out the window, and gazed out at the night lit city. It almost felt as if you were seeing it for the first time. You grabbed your bags and just before you made your out the terminal you were stopped by cheers from a section not far from you.
“ENHYPEN WE LOVE YOU!” “Ni-ki! We love you! Good luck!” Deciding to see what was going on, you went to where the crowds were. It was then when you saw the one person you thought you would never see again. “Riki?” You watched in silence as he and the other boys he was walking with greeted the people around him. You watched him sign autographs and take pictures with those around him. “Wow look at him. He looks really good! He looks so happy. You continued to watch until your eyes caught his staring back at yours. You saw one of the biggest smiles that bought back memories from your childhood. He whispered to one of the other members of the group and broke off to make his way towards you. “Y/n? Is it really you? I-“ You cut him off with the biggest hug you had ever given anyone in your entire life. You felt a familiar sense of comfort that only he gave you. It had been 4 long years since you seen him. You missed this feeling. “How did you know it was me?” you said with the biggest smile. “I would never forget you y/n.” You smiled as he smiled back at you making every negative thought you had finally disappear.
“What are you doing here?” “I-“ Before you could explain he was called back by the other members of the group. “Aww man I’m sorry I gotta go, but here’s my number. It was good seeing you!” You watched him as the other members playfully pulled him away. You waved at him one last time before you looked at the slip he handed you with his number on it. To your surprise his number hadn’t changed. It was the same number you had stored in your phone. Without hesitating you texted him right away.
“It’s good to see you haven’t changed. And it was good to see you as well.”
Before you could shut your phone off, you were alerted with a notification.
“Text me tomorrow. Let’s catch up.”
You smiled as you made your way out of the airport. From that night, you would see him as well as spend time doing things as well as reminisce about the past. It was almost as if you never left all those years ago. As happy as you were, you were also stuck with the thoughts of when you would finally tell him your reasons for coming back. You were deep in thought until you received a text message from Riki.
“Hey you busy?”
“No. Just resting up since this is my last night in town”
“I have somewhere I want to take you. Consider it one last gift before you leave. Think you can make it?”
“Yeah!”
“Great I’ll pick you up in an hour!”
You waited outside the hotel you were staying at until Riki pulled up. He greeted you with a hug and opened the car door for you. He made his way back around to the driver side and you both drove off. “So where are you taking me?” “You’ll see?” You looked at him as he smiled and continued driving. “We’re here! Close your eyes!” You smiled and closed your eyes wondering what was it he wanted to show you. He grabbed your hand as he opened the car door and walk you out slowly. “Okay ready? Tada!” You smiled when he finally revealed the surprise. It was the park that you two played at as kids. Lots of memories played through your head as you both played on the swingsets. It was like you were kids again. You played for hours until you both laid staring at the night sky. You then said something that you were unsure was gonna bring everything up to this point to an end.
“I love you Riki.” He sat up as you said those words. All of sudden the smile that was there was gone with a look of sadness. “You what?” You were certain he heard you the first time you said it but you had no problem saying it again. “I said I love you Riki.” You we’re expecting him to say something back in response, but he looked away instead. “Riki?” You didn’t expect the silence to be this strong. You thought that everything would be perfect if you told him how you felt, or at least that’s how it played out in your head. In reality it had been four long years without any contact or even any thoughts of him. “Why did you come back y/n? You never told me why.” “I came back for you. I-“ before you could finish your sentence you were cut off. “Don’t lie to yourself.” Those words sounded all to familiar to you. It was the same thing you told him all those years ago. It stung so hard you didn’t realize that maybe this was what he felt. “Riki I know I ran away before. I ran away from what I had and I’m sorry. I-“ “Do you know how I felt when you left? You broke my heart… you left and I never got one call from you or anything. I was alone and now you come back with this?” You were shocked at the response he gave you. You could see he was visibly angry. His response alone was enough to cause you to tear up. “Riki I-“ “No y/n. I held this in for four years. I held all the emotions, memories, and pain that I felt all this time. I tried to forget that anything ever happened. I was so convinced that you would come back. I kept telling myself that everyday until I couldn’t anymore.” You were hurt at his response. Was this really how he felt all these years? You couldn’t find the words to say anything in response that would make it better. “I-I’m sorry Riki… I’m sorry for everything….” You turned to walk away before you were stopped by Riki. “So your just gonna run away again? If this was race you’d win by a landslide….” Those words alone were enough to deal the final blow. Any chance you felt you had of getting the person you once had was gone. You hadn’t realized the amount of pain you caused him by running away all those years ago. You did it for yourself, your dreams, but lost the one you wanted forever to be with. You were already at the finish line forever leaving him behind.
This is my first time writing for Enhypen (which I will be writing for officially!) I feel like I didn’t do that good, but let me know you think of this one! And thank you to everyone who enjoy my work! It really means a lot to me! ~Shysakuno💕
#ficscafe#prism.nw#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#riki nishimura#ni ki fluff#ni ki imagines#ni ki angst#ni ki enhypen
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sensation
w/c: 4.6k
warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending
summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate
a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy
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“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.
the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.
tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.
he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.
your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.
zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.
besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.
finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.
“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.
tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.
“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.
grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”
with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.
“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.
“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.
“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.
when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.
“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”
you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.
you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.
“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.
she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”
“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.
“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.
coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.
the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.
“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”
“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.
“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.
custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.
“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.
“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.
after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.
“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.
“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.
“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.
not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.
you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.
“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.
“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”
tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”
he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.
“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”
tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.
“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”
“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”
you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.
he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.
you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.
“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.
you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.
tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.
you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.
“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”
your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”
“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.
you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.
he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”
you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.
“you know what? yeah.”
that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.
he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.
“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.
“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.
“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.
tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”
your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”
“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.
“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”
“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.
“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”
giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”
well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.
#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland au#tom holland smut#tom holland imagine#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x singer!reader#tom holland request#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader
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You always seem down on the idea of the Batfam. I mean, it is hard to take seriously when writers make Bruce hostile or downright abusive towards his kids, or when Batfam members never interact. But do you think the concept itself is good, and it's just been the victim of bad writing? Or do you think the Batfam is a bad idea that can never work?
Hi there Anon! Thank you for the ask!
Hmm, this is a difficult question. Maybe I can answer this better if I do it in parts because the concept of “Batfamily” is used in different ways currently. A way to separate them can be, DC’s Batfamily, Fandom’s Batfamily and Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon.
DC’s Batfamily:
My rejection of this version of Batfamily comes from all angles, it is not a good concept within comics lore anymore, it’s badly written and used to hide and move on from truly horrendous actions done by Bruce towards the rest of the family, and DC uses the concept of “Batfamily” that fandom has become so attached to, so they can profit off of it without writing anything of real essence with it.
Why did I say that the Batfamily isn’t a good concept anymore? Well, because the Batfamily that I first came across in comics included, Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Barbara, Tim and Cassandra. It was rather small and their books interconnected and had pretty solid relationships with one another. Dick and Tim got along and spent time together, Barbara mentored Cass so she could become Batgirl and so on and so forth. The family was smaller and more connected. But they still had problems and bad habits then. So, I liked them as a group of people that worked together and the name they received was “Batfamily” as a way for DC to profit from it.
Right now, the Batfamily is huge, I don’t know if you have seen those splash pages with all the members of it for Rebirth and Infinite Frontier, but those promotional pages were crazy big, characters like Harley and Clownhunter are now considered part of the “Batfamily” and all that. Then there is the kind of characters like Cass, Steph and Kate who are all connected to Batman but that haven’t been appearing in books for very long, so putting them on that page really feels like DC is trying to prove that their “Batfamily” actually has women on it, but it’s just for show.
And then there is Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, the most recognizable faces of the Batfamily aside from Bruce and Alfred (but Alfred is dead now so he doesn’t really count), all of them have had issues with Bruce or are indifferent to the existence of one another. Yes, Tom Taylor has included Tim in Dick’s book but here is the thing, it feels like he put him there just to make fans shut up about the lack of content with both of them acting as they used to do. But its false and lazy, Taylor just brought Tim to the book but we don’t get to see Tim and Dick interact in ways that can explain why they drifted off, it kinda seems like all those years where Dick and Tim were pulled apart never happened to DC and that makes me think “cash grab”. I would have loved to see them interact again if it meant that we would have some solid story for them to develop their relationship once more.
At the end of Rebirth, Damian was pissed off at Bruce and they had a fight and Damian left the manor completely. Bruce beat up Jason, then gave him a hug but still told him that he was banned from Gotham and all that abuse and manipulation was swept under the rug when DC came out with Urban Legends: Cheer, all they did with that story is lie and made-up stories about Jason wanting Bruce to go on a killing spree so Gotham can finally be the home to his beloved family (lies, lies, lies).
On top of all that we have the neglect, abuse and manipulation that Bruce had going on with Dick, ever since Bruce manipulated Dick into joining Spyral his actions haven’t faced any consequences (the family still believes that Dick was the one who lied about dying). And as recently as the end of Rebirth, Dick suffered from a head injury that left him amnesiac and Bruce absolutely didn’t care enough to look after him when he was so vulnerable and alone. DC had the audacity of having Bruce say that he was looking after Dick while Dick went from one villain manipulating and hurting him to another, and if we look at Batman’s run, we can see that he spent some of that time in a weird pit or playing catch the pussy with Selina in a tropical island.
So, taking all those things into account, I honestly believe that the Batfamily is a concept that absolutely does not belong in comics. If it were to be taken seriously then DC should come up with (organic, not forced) stories that make these characters connect once again, but they have to be careful, just because they can connect it doesn’t mean that everyone gets along and they have group chats and eat dinner together of Fridays, that would be a blatant lie and just too out there for their kind of dynamic, so, they should take things slow, start re-building what once was an make it better (if they want to make it work and feel like less of a cash grab).
I heard that there is a book with Cass and Steph being mentored as Batgirls by Barbara coming out in December, that to me is a good thing, what was done in Robin #5 was awful, Jason didn’t have or want to be there, Tim, what the hell was Tim doing there? The only ones that have gotten along with Damian and have had a solid relationship with him were Dick and Steph. Dick had a very nice moment with Damian in that issue, but Steph didn’t, they preferred to have Jason wanting to hug Damian instead (what the actual hell was that?).
Fandom’s Batfamily:
Fandom is a place where people can take any concept from anywhere and transform it into whatever they please. This fandom is just like any other in that matter, but I have noticed that sometimes the Batfamily Fandom tends to blur the lines between what’s fanon and canon. Their lore is so deep and established among people that they sometimes (willingly or not) make new readers or other people believe that how things and perceived in fandom is how things actually are in comics, and that is a huge problem.
Things like “Dick sent Jason to Arkham when the Joker was just a cell away”, “Jason has pit madness and when he gets mad his eyes turn glowy green”, “Dick was a horrendous brother to Jason before Jason died”, “Jason would be good friends with Tim and Cass”, “Jason is the only one that sees the world differently from Bruce and the other robins because he is the only one that comes from a life with no luxury” and so on and on and on…
All of those things are sometimes treated as the absolute truth by fandom and no matter how many times people have debunked and explained that those things aren’t part of comics’ canon because they are simply not true, fandom stills treats those things as the basis of their Batfamily lore.
That lore would be actually fascinating if people didn’t lose sight so easily of the fact that at the end of the day none of that lore can be applied to comics’ canon.
When you enter this fandom things can be extremely confusing and the way some of the characters are characterized are completely different to their canon characterizations, I knew that the Dick fandom was writing about was not real, but I had no idea that Tim being a coffee addict that hasn’t slept in five months and is an absolute genius in everything and anything that he does was completely out of character for him, I just thought that was true to his character in comics too. Something like that happened to me when I took a peek at Jason’s side of fandom, by that time I had read Red Hood/Arsenal, UtRH and New 52 RHatO (yeah in that order, Red Hood/Arsenal wasn’t finished yet though), with the already conflicting characterizations of those books, the first look that I had at fandom’s Jason confused me even more. After considering all those I decided that the Jason that I wanted to see and actually looked appealing to me was UtRH Jason.
Not all people in fandom read comics and that is ABSOLUTELY VALID, I have zero problems with people not liking the comic characterizations of the “Batfamily” characters, but that in itself also creates a rift between fans themselves.
Fandom’s Batfamily lore being introduced in comics’ canon:
This is obviously the intersection of the other two points and this is the biggest problem that I have with the Batfamily concept. The fandom lore has been leaking into comic’s canon for a while now but right now we are kinda drowning in it. Decisions that have been made recently in DC like, Jason giving up his guns, the group chats in Nightwing issues, the family dinners that were hinted at in Cheer #6, and Bruce having had at the ready a Red Hood suit for Jason with a Batman logo in its chest, have been proof enough that DC is planning on skipping any kind of solid writing for these characters to actually get along. We are never going to see these people sit down and talk about their differences and respect each other’s work ethics.
We are never going to get stories of actual essence that prove that these characters understand and care for each other, we are just going to be told that “all is good” and now everyone loves one another and they will build from there.
That is a problem for me.
-
And it also takes away duality from Gotham’s vigilantes, I know I say this too much but it’s the truth, putting all these characters under the ruling of Batman makes them all bland. Jason shouldn’t be part of any sort of group that involves Bruce! My god, I don’t want to see them interact anymore! Bruce has been absolute trash to Jason ever since he came back from the dead and I am tired of DC trying to make them be on good terms!
Jason and Bruce not getting along can co-exist with the fact that Jason isn’t a villain to Batman’s legendary hero. Jason is his own character, with his own morals and he doesn’t need a bat symbol on his chest or book logo to be relevant. Same with Dick, Tim and Barbara, let them be characters that can stand on their own because they have already done that!
Barbara as Oracle worked WITH Batman if she wanted, she had her own logo and had passed on the mantle of Batgirl because he had grown out of it.
Dick is Nightwing and has become an even better hero than Batman could even aspire to become, he has contacts with everyone in the DC universe, has led countless teams, he doesn’t NEED a batman logo on his book or to be constantly dragged back to him just to make the Bat more compelling.
Jason, my sweet Jason, he had his own logo! It was gorgeous and then Lobdell had the audacity to stamp a Batman logo in the middle of the book name and in Jason’s chest! Have we gone absolutely mad? Why did they do that? Lobdell’s constant back and forth with Jason and his feelings for Bruce, he respects him and he doesn’t, he kills and he doesn’t… each issue felt like a new take on the character! It was crazy!
And that has happened with everyone in the “family”. I will end this by saying that Bruce/Batman being at the centre of this “Batfamily” dynamic is the most laughable thing in the DC Universe. Batman isn’t family to any of the people that they constantly surround him with, he is a piece of shit.
Anyway Anon, I hope this answer doesn’t ruin your day and that you understand that even though I really don’t like the “Batfamily” concept, you and everyone else are allowed and encouraged to think differently!
Hope you have a marvellous day Anon!
#jason todd#red hood#dick grayson#nightwing#tim drake#damian wayne#batfamily#batfam#dc comics#asksss
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Kakashi Week Day 6: Physical Affection
Talk to Me
Words: 1560
Pairing: Hatake Kakashi X Reader
For: @sunflowersenshi who's always so kind and welcoming <3 <3 <3
@kakashiweek
On the rare days that he has off, Kakashi has a small list of things that he likes to do in order to relax and recharge. From replenishing his food stocks at home to relaxing under a nice tree reading his book, he had come up with the perfect schedule over the years to enjoy those rare days off as much as possible.
It was a schedule that he was quite proud of, even if others did call him ‘lazy’ or ‘unmotivated’ for it. It was the best way to get himself ready for the next mission. Gave him the opportunity to relax completely and prepare himself for whatever Lord Fifth threw at him next.
The only interruptions that were accepted without complaint to his schedule were if Gai also happened to have the day off, in which case he would expect the taijutsu master to show up at some point unannounced asking for a challenge, and when Y/N had some free time to spare for a date.
Today had been one of those lucky days. She had told him how much effort it took to bribe Iruka to take over the last of her paperwork that was due today so that she could sneak away from the academy a bit early. Meeting up with him for lunch had apparently been her top priority all day. Something that she looked forward to, helping her drag herself through a rather boring day of classes with the newest group of Academy students.
Now that she was here though, walking by his side through the streets of Konoha, both arms hooked around his left one, he couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem to be all that excited about being there with him. There was a smile on her face whenever she spoke to him, but a distinct lack of excitement in her eyes.
Rather than being full of energy and bursting forward through the crowd while chatting his ear off about all of the things that she wanted to do with him, she was dragging her feet against the ground. Only speaking when he spoke first.
Even the way that she held herself against him was different, clinging to his arms as if she was afraid he would disappear if she dared to let go.
After another failed attempt at getting her to talk to him, he came to a stop in the middle of the street and turned to face her. Ignoring the murmured protests of people whose path he had blocked with his sudden halt.
“Kakashi, what-”
“Is there something wrong?” She stared at him, confusion settling onto her face. “You’re not your usual self. Is there something bothering you?”
Had he done something wrong? Was she tired of being around him? Looking for someone new and interesting to spend her time with.
He leaves the last few questions unspoken, wanting to give her a chance to respond before he lets his mind wander to all of the worst possibilities. Though, he can’t help but notice the way that her fingers curl into his biceps. Nails digging into his skin, almost as if she’s afraid that he’ll vanish if she lets go of him.
“It’s nothing,” she smiled up at him, her eyes focused on the road in front of them. “I just have a lot on my mind. We shouldn’t let it ruin our day out, right? I mean...we haven’t seen each other for a few days.”
A few days was a bit of an understatement. It had actually been two weeks since he had been able to secure a day off. With the Akasuki’s activities rising, and rumors about Konoha’s strength wavering, Tsunade-sama had been sending him out on more missions than he was used to.
“I can ask for a few more days off,” he suggested, wondering if that was what she needed. A little extra time with him. “Or even-”
“Kakashi,” she cut him off, hugging herself a bit closer to his arm. “I mean it. I don’t want to waste the time that we have together, and you can’t just ask for more days off. Tsunade-sama, all of Konoha needs you right now. The work you’re doing is important and I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away.”
Even with her reassurance, he felt like there was something she wasn’t telling him. Something that she was keeping hidden away, possibly even from herself. An experience that he knew all too well.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he offered in much the same way she often did with him. “I know I'm not the best at talking about my own feelings, but I can listen if t-” Her left hand shot up, covering his mouth and effectively preventing him from finishing the rest of his sentence.
“You know how sometimes when I ask you to talk to me you tell me that it’s not something you can really do at the moment?” he nodded his head, a little confused by what she was trying to get at. “Well, today it’s my turn ok? I’m just not ready to talk about it, but it’s nothing bad about you or us. I promise.”
It took a minute for him to process what she was trying to tell him, not used to having her tell him that she wasn’t able to talk about her feelings. That she needed time before she could actually address whatever was bothering her. Once he understood though, he switched gears.
Retracting his arm from the hold she still had on it with her other hand, he took a step back and gave himself a second to examine her. With eyes still devoid of the sparkle of excitement that usually shown back at him, she gave him the best smile that she could manage. Nothing close to that blinding, toothy white smile that she would always have on her face whenever he came to visit her at the academy, but a smile that told him that she was alright.
That everything would be ok.
Feeling a heavy weight lifting off of his shoulders with that smile, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. The hug was possibly a little tighter than it usually would be, but he assumed she didn’t mind when she melted into his hold. Her head dropping against his shoulder.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” he whispered, burying his face into her hair and letting the scent of singed hair settling into his nostrils. ‘Did you have to stop a fight between some students today?”
“I do not want to talk about it.” The annoyed hint in her voice told him that he had been correct, and there was no doubt a pair of academy kids who had gotten an ear full from one very angry Sensei.
“Alright,” releasing his hold on her, he took a step back and gave her his best smile. “Well, let’s go to lunch then. If you’re still up for it.” Holding out a hand towards her, he watched as she stared at it. Almost as if she was contemplating if she actually wanted to take it.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally took his hand. Her fingers finding their place between his with ease. “Does that mean that for once you’re going to pay for lunch?” with the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes that he had ever seen, she stepped right up into his space and pressed her body into his. Her hand gripped his a bit tighter than usual, leaving him no chance to make a run for it.
Not that he wanted to. As scary as some people found this look on her, he couldn’t help but love it. For some reason it just fit so well with her personality. A perfect match, just like the two of them.
“Maybe I will,” tilting his head a little to the side, he peered down at her. A playful look in his eyes to counter her pleading one. “But I don’t buy lunch for just anyone you know. I like a little something for my troubles.”
“Oh Kakashi, stepping back, she swatted him in the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you get all of the kisses that you want.”
“And cuddles?” Those were important as well. He just wasn’t a complete man if he couldn’t huddle himself up into her arms and forget about the world for a little bit. To just feel her touch against his skin was a gift that he would gladly pay a thousand lunched for.
“All of the cuddles that you could possibly want.”
Even now, with laughter in her voice and a smile on her face, her eyes were still full of sadness. Little had changed since he first tried to talk to her about whatever it was that was bugging her, but that was fine.
He knew she would talk when she was ready to. She always did.
All he had to do for her was be patient, and as long as he got to hold her in his arms. To press kisses against her skin and whisper in her ear all of the cheesy love lines that he could remember from his Icha Icha books, he was happy to wait as long as she needed him to.
#Kakashi X Reader#Hatake Kakashi X Reader#Reader Insert#gender neutral reader#i cannot promise that i succeded#but damn it i tried#XD#this is not my area of expertise#i suck at reader inserts
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New Life
Summary: Finally you will move to Duskwood and start a new life. A moving with the help of the chaotic Duskwood Squad and a shamed hacker with the wrong moving box, can it be more beautiful?
Pairing: Group & Fem!MC x Jake
Words: 4,4 k
A/n: Welcome to this OneShot. After a long time something of my own. I dreamed about it and so the idea came. So I hope you’ll like it and have fun. Excuse the mistakes etc etc etc.
Take care and stay healthy! Much love.❤️
4 a.m.
"Shit" you hiss annoyed and look at the stain of coffee on the floor, which was sweped in your haste over the edge of the cup, "My poor coffee".
Because of sorrow you forgot again why you even walked to the door.
You want to make your way to get a cloth when it rings again, "Oh right" you shake your head over your forgetfulness. It’s just too early for you.
Quickly you open the door to your apartment and look in two radiant faces belonging to Dan and Richy, your heroes of the day.
"Good morning" both say at the same time and you would just like to crawl back into bed.
"Good morning guys, come in. Careful not to step on the coffee, he did not deserve it"
Hectically you put your cup next to the door on the small dresser to go to the kitchen and get something to wipe away.
"Why are you in such a hurry?" Dan asks you as you come back with quick steps.
"You look tired, haven’t you slept?" Richy asks, grinning, you shake your head.
"Only about half an hour and that was an accident. I didn’t want to sleep," you explain.
"Why?" Richy looks around the almost empty apartment. All that’s left are only the biggest furniture you’ll be taking with you and a lot of moving boxes.
"I had to pack so much stuff and besides I was really excited. Do any of you want coffee? I made more, and I left two more cups outside." You’re offering.
The eyes of both men grow big,"I certainly don’t say no to coffee," Richy jokes and follows you into the kitchen.
"Just take what you need. I still have to pack the rest of my clothes and the stuff from the bathroom" You already ran off only to then make a 180 degree turn, "My cup" you mumble and grab it.
"MC, let’s take it easy, we have all the time in the world," Dan rebukes you and you sighing.
"I’m sorry, I’m probably more excited than I thought," you apologize and drop into the chair at your kitchen table.
"This is normal. You don’t move to a completely strange and creepy city every day," Richy throws in and immediately gets a nasty look from Dan.
"Are you serious?" he asks, "You’re not making it better!"
Richy looks embarrassed in your a little desperate face, "But for that, this will be the coolest time of your life!" he tries to save the situation, "Hey, think about it, the Duskwood Squad is finally completely united in a few hours!"
The prospect of the time you are about to be with your friends, and that always without having to go home, also makes you smile like the two men
"But it’s about time, Shorty, we miss you at our place.
A visit every few months is simply not enough, or just for one night over the weekend. You should have seen the girls the last days, there was no rest"
Dan finds just the right words to calm you down. You’ve waited so long to move to Duskwood, and now it’s finally time. A new phase in your life with a group of good friends that you met during a worst-case similar situation.
Since then, there hasn’t been a day when you haven’t written or spoken on the phone. You’ve played so much Doodle Splash to pass the time for your next visit that you feel like you’ve painted more than Picasso ever did
"You are right! " you agree resolutely, "time for the best time of my life! "
-------------------------------------
"I actually thought you had a few less things," Richy stands breathless in your apartment door. Of course, the big things, like your couch, your bed and your desk, were brought into the truck first which Richy borrowed from a friend company for removals.
And now for about 20 minutes you’ve been carrying one box after the other downwards to store it. In between, even one of your neighbors came to help, who actually wanted to go to work but still had a few minutes.
"That’s because the boxes are too small," you joke, and Richy looks at you with a look that clearly says 'You don’t believe that yourself'.
Defending you raise your hands and push with your foot another box over to him, which he can bring down.
About 10 minutes later, in which you had to take out all the boxes again, and put them back in, you put down the last box in your hallway. Behind you, Dan and Richy come up the stairs as you pull the little key to your former apartment out of your pocket and sigh.
"Finish!" Richy cheers and puts an arm around your shoulders, "Are you ready?" Dan asks you and you nod. A little sad, you put the key in the keyhole one last time and lock up.
Dan takes the last box from you and you go down the stairs together. You throw the key into the mailbox as agreed with your landlord and turn around one last time.
Determined not to be sad or rather melancholic, you climb forward into the truck behind Richy while Dan closes the big cargo hatch.
He himself gets into the driver’s seat.
"Let’s go into your new life" he announces solemnly as he starts the engine.
"Into a new life"
-----------------------------------------
"I wanna be the very best!
Like no one ever was!
To catch them is my real test
To train them is my cause" you all shout the theme music of Pokémon.
Richy has turned on his playlist where all the songs you can only imagine are. You’ve been driving for about an hour and a half.
"POKÉMON!" Richy screams and throws his hand into the air.
"Don’t shout!" Dan grumbles and gives him a annoyed look, "You just screamed too!" the mechanic defends himself and twists his eyes. "I need another coffee, I’m driving to the next rest stop, otherwise I won’t make it for the next two hours," says Dan and you agree.
At the gas station you get yourself a new coffee and a snack. Actually 3 hours are not so much driving, but with the grumpy Dan and the lively Richy, who are two clowns at the same time, it can be exhausting.
After you get back to the truck, and this time Richy drives on, you actually managed to fall asleep after half an hour.
-----------------------------------------
"Wake up, Shorty" you hear the voice of the bearded man far away, "We are almost there," he explains and you open your eyes. You need a short moment to realize where you are and what’s going on, but then you straighten up. Your head was lying on Dan’s shoulder.
"Sorry" you mumble and stretch as much as possible with so little space." It’s fine. I almost slept myself" he waves off and you just nod. No wonder, the two boys also left at 1 a.m., to be with you in time.
In fact, you can already see that you will reach the entrance of Duskwood in about 5 minutes. You’ve been driving this way so many times, you know the way around, like in your own hometown.
"I’m so glad I don’t have to drive any further," Richy whines and drums with his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that sounds quietly from the radio.
"When the truck is empty, you have to bring it back" Dan reminds him. Without going into the mocking comment, the mechanic turns the radio a little louder.
When the sign 'Welcome to Duskwood' appears in your sight, you start to grin broadly. Nervously you slide back and forth on the seat and bite your lower lip.
Richy crosses the border into the small town with secrets you still have learned to love.
"Welcome to Duskwood" Richy congratulates you and you happily clap your hands.
Welcome new life.
-------------------------------------
When you turn into the street where your apartment is, very close to Jessy’s, you almost jump up from your seat. Just the seatbelt holds you back when you see the rest of the group standing outside the door: Jessy, Cleo, Thomas, Lilly and Hannah.
All 5 wave wildly and Richy pushes twice on the horn to greet. As far as the side of the road goes, Richy stops the truck and you quickly unbuckle yourself. You rip the door, and without using the stairs, you jump out of the car, "Leave the door where it belongs!" you hear Richy shout, but you’ve been on your way down for a long time.
"Hello" calls all of you in a choir as a tight and not quite gentle hug with the 4 girls takes place. All at the same time you fall into each other’s arms. Compliments are exchanged and joy about the move announced.
"You pretend you haven’t seen each other for four years!" you hear Richy laugh and roll his eyes. "That’s how it feels," Hannah chuckles next to you.
"Hello MC" Thomas shouts amused and you stretch an arm in the air and waves in an indefinite direction, "Hello Thomas, I don’t know where you stand but HI!"
After you finally broke up from each other, Hannah holds out your new front door key that she kept for you. She was the one who looked for apartments for you on the spot when you couldn’t be here. She took over the visits and took pictures. If it was possible, she took you with her through a video call.
"Congratulations MC, welcome to the family" she smiles.
"Thank you folks, it’s so nice to finally be here!"
-------------------------------------
After you have arrived correctly and you have looked at your apartment once again in empty state, you have started to bring everything into the apartment. Now, of course, things are moving much faster with more people.
You’ve built up in the stairwell to the second floor: Dan, Richy, Thomas, Cleo, Lilly, Jessy, Hannah and you.
In a row your carton reaches from person to person and quickly most of it is done. From your apartment comes music that you run via a Bluetooth speaker. Fortunately, you have labeled everything so that after all the boxes are in your apartment, you only have to push them into the right rooms. And then the big things come.
The three of them, Thomas Richy and Dan carry the sofa upstairs.
You just stand by with a slightly nervous face and hope no one gets hurt.
"You have to be careful! The sofa is tipping!" Dan shouts loudly as Richy tries another handle.
"I know! But I don’t want this thing to fall on my foot," Richy hisses. Thomas, who supports the side, only twists his eyes.
-------------------------------------
All the important parts are now in your apartment. Now, the truck is empty and ready to be brought back.
"Okay, I’ll bring the truck away, and you start here. I’ll come back when you’re done and I can get the beer I earned," Richy jokes as he takes the key off the kitchen table.
"You get nothing" you call laughing after him, "Oh wait until the man Without Face learns of your sin. To deny a working man his beer is bad!"
Laughing, you shake your head, "I’m waiting for the next new moon."
"How can you always joke about it?" Jessy asks without understanding.
"Well, that’s just relief," you explain and smile at her calmly.
-------------------------------------
4 hours, a lot of laughter, bad jokes, quarrels and almost broken furniture later, the most important is on the right place. The bed is built up and ready for the first night in the new apartment, in your new life.
"How’s your thumb, Richy?" Ask the sulking mechanic carefully.
"All right, I can take a lot, I’ll survive," he calms you down and presses the cooling pad more firmly on his finger.
A lot went wrong trying to build your wardrobe. Someone had forgotten a screw when the ceiling was mounted.
The moment Richy tried to hit a nail with a hammer in the lower area, the ceiling came loose and fell down.
Both side walls of the cabinet fell into each other, and Richy accidentally punched hit his thumb. For a few seconds you were all just staring at each other and then laughing. Fortunately, Richy’s injury wasn’t that bad, but you gave him something to cool down with.
And now almost everything is ready. There are only a few boxes missing, but you will take over yourself." Thanks for your great help, guys! Many thanks to Richy and Dan who picked me up and drove so long. And of course, thank you all so much for helping me here!"
You’re all sitting around the table in your living room. You’re sitting next to Jessy on the floor while everyone else is comfortable on the sofa and armchair.
"And again, for the thousandth time today; Welcome to Duskwood MC" Hannah cheers and keeps her beer up. All together you toast.
"I’m so tired," Dan mutters, sipping his drink." Oh yes, so am I," joins Richy and you nod.
"But it was worth it" Lilly smiles and looks around, "And as soon as it’s done, it can only be great!"
"Perfect!" Hannah improves her sister.
"Indescribable" agrees Jessy.
-------------------------------------
"See you guys tomorrow!" you call after the group and close the door.
Just a short and quiet moment you close your eyes exhausted. Preferably you just want to go to bed, but first you still want to unpack a little more.
The sound that tells you that you have received a message pulls you out of your mind.
You pull out your phone and smile when you see that it is Jake who wrote to you.
Jake: Hello, MC.
Jake: How did the move go?
MC: Hi, Jake. Pretty good, I’d say, exhausting and stressful, but good.
Jake: Have you finished?
MC: No, not quite, I do the rest myself, the others have done enough.
Jake: Do you like the apartment?
You grin, he has improved his skills for small talk since you met and Hannah return.
MC: Yes, it’s really nice, do you want to come? You can look around.
Hopeful you stare at the screen. It would be really nice to see Jake today.
What this is between you, you don’t know for sure, sometimes it goes ahead and sometimes back. You’ve seen each other a few times since Hannah was rescued. Mostly here in Duskwood.
After a difficult time between the three siblings and still the problem with Jake’s pursuers, everything has improved.
However he did it, he managed to turn all the tracks that linked him to the suspicion so that they no longer point to him. He is still very careful and occasionally travels from town to town for a few weeks but most of the time he is in Duskwood. This is where you first met.
After the first conversation between Hannah, Lilly and Jake and a lot of explanations, the hacker decided to take an apartment here to catch up the time with his sisters. Since then, he has also become a little more open and better in interpersonal relationships.
At some point he was in the vicinity of your old place of residence and then it happened that you have a day to drink coffee. And the next day in your apartment. The beginnings were sometimes a little difficult because of him because he really didn’t talk much, but after some time it became really nice. There was even a kiss. Your first kiss together.
It was on your balcony and it was at night, under the stars. But since then, not much exciting has happened, unfortunately.
Jake: I think I’d just bother you unpacking.
MC: Bullshit, of course not, I could use a little quieter company after the whole group was there :)
Jake: Don’t you want to go to sleep soon? You must be tired.
MC: Jake, don’t make excuses, if you don’t want to, you can just say no, that’s not bad for me. But I promise I’d be happy if you were here.
You watch him start writing and then delete the message.
Jake: I’m on my way :)
Without answering his message, you close your phone and stare at the bare wall facing you for seconds.
Then you can’t stop yourself from doing a little joy dance, "Yess!" you hisses and grins all over your face.
Jake won’t be long before he gets here, so you decide to clean up the empty bottles and candy that are still on the table.
Although it’s only about 10 minutes to wait, it feels like a half an eternity until it finally rings.
Before you open the door, shake all your limbs to loosen up and clear your throat.
Then you open the door.
The hacker, dressed in black as always, stands with a slight smile in your hallway, "Hello MC" he greets you with his melodic voice.
Immediately you get very warm and you try to keep your own smile small, "Hi Jake. Come in" you walk to the side to let him in.
-
Jake actually knows your apartment already.
Officially, you don’t know anything about this. But off the record, Hannah told you.
You couldn’t handle the handover of the apartment yourself, so Hannah did it for you, and Jake was with her. He had only told her that he was bored and wanted to come along, but when he looked around and said some things like, "MC has enough space here" and "This will be a good place for her" she realized that he just came to make sure the place was nice enough for you.
Nevertheless, he now curiously lets his gaze wander through the now filled apartment.
"When it is done, it will look really nice" he confirms after you have shown him everything, as well as explained the room layout.
"Yes, I think so," you agree and smile.
"What are you going to do next?" he asks, pointing to the boxes in which your clothes are still to be cleared into the closet.
"That’s exactly what" you answer and kick one of the boxes, "You can sit on the bed if you want, while I unpack," you are proposing and tear the tape off the cardboard.
"I can help you if you don’t mind," he offers and you nod, "Sure, if you want"
-
Cleaning up with the group was really fun, but now with Jake, it’s beautiful. The atmosphere is calm, not stressful or a mess. You talk about everything that comes to mind while Jake keeps holding clothes in front of your face so you can tell him where it belongs.
Two boxes are already empty. In your second one there is still a little bit inside and Jake is also on his way to get a new one. You watch him as he opens the box, only to close it again immediately afterwards. His cheeks turn pure red and his eyes squint nervously at you, "Uhm, I think I’ll take the box first" he mumbles and you can hear the trembling in his voice only too well.
"Why? What’s going on?" you wonder about his reaction.
"Nothing at all, everything okay, here’s another one" he scratches nervously in the neck and does not look at you when talking.
Skeptically you walk over to the box to take a look inside. When you open it, you quickly realize the reason for his shamed behavior.
Your underwear. You decide not to say anything to make it even more unpleasant for him, but you cannot hide the smile on your lips.
For the next few minutes, it’s quiet until it rings at your door. You look at your watch in wonder. It’s just before 9, and you’re not expecting anyone today.
"Be right back," you inform Jake, "And keep your hands off my underwear," as you disappear out the door, you can see him raising his head in a flash, staring at you with big eyes. Laughing you open the door, "Phil?" you ask surprised when you see Jessy’s brother standing there. Phil has also become a good friend of yours, you visited Aurora as a group several times when you were here.
"Hi MC" he greets you, "I hope I’m not interrupting? I actually have to leave right away again, the Aurora is crowded today.I just wanted to stop by and greet you in Duskwood and congratulate you on your move" he smiles his typical charming smile as you hug briefly, "Thanks Phil" you nod grateful. He separates from you and then does not joyfully pull up an eyebrow, he looks behind you and you turn around as well. Jake is standing in the living room and has the same annoyed look as Phil on his face.
"Have fun, you two," Phil grins a little cocky and puts his arms around you again, just quick.
As he disappears down the stairs, he still calls, "We have to do something together in the next few days."
You slowly close the door and turn around with a wide grin to Jake, who still looks dark at the door. Yeah, that Phil and Jake don’t like each other hasn’t changed. On the contrary.
Jake finds Phil is the most unsympathetic person in the world, and Phil thinks he’s better for you than Jake is.
When Jake frees himself from his rigidity, his attention falls on you. You bite your lower lips and put a hand in front your mouth to stop your next words. Even the hacker seems to know what is going on and looks warn, "Don’t say it"
Innocently you raise your eyebrows, "What? I don’t know what you mean, do you mean? -"
"Stop" Jake stops you and heads back to the bedroom.
"What? Shouldn’t I say that you-"
"MC" he threatens.
"Are you jealous?" it bursts out of you and groaning Jake drops his head in the neck, "You really need to say this, don’t you?"
-------------------------------------
After you keep teasing Jake with it, you decided to stop for today. You two ordered a pizza and a drink, because you don’t have much here, except for the beer Hannah bought.
You had the TV running quietly but didn’t pay attention to it. Jake asked you what your wishes and hopes are in for your new life, and you talked about the time with the Man Without a Face. Until now, you’ve only talked to him about it. Just a little bit with Hannah but somehow you’re still not ready to deal with all this. The occasional jokes about it will help you soothe your thoughts a little.
During your conversation, you accidentally fell asleep. The hacker didn’t know what to do, he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want to leave without saying anything. After watching you for 20 minutes and thinking about your relationship, he felt weird just looking at you while you're sleeping. So he decided to leave.
However, you seem to have noticed this immediately because the moment he opens the door, your eyes open.
"Wait" you stop him and he looks at you frightened, "If you leave now while I sleep, then I feel like I was a one night stand," you joke and and he grins.
"You’re much more than that," he replies quietly. You raising your upper body, and a little shy, stroking the fluffy pillow on your couch.
"Can you.. can you stay, Jake?" Your voice is quiet, tired and a little nervous, "I feel uncomfortable being here alone the first night," you admit. You had this feeling the first time while you built up the bed. Even though the Man without a face is in prison and you’re safe, you still have this unpleasant ulterior motive.
He seems to think about, but without you telling him, he understands what you’re worried about.
"All right" he sighs and closes the door again.
"You can sleep in the bed, I’ll take the couch," you say and get up to get a blanket and a pillow.
"No, the other way around. You should sleep in your bed, your day was exhausting and you need to rest"
Before this discussion can be extended, you decide to make a short process, "Okay, you have two options now. Either you sleep with me in bed, or we both sleep on the couch. 'Cause I’m not gonna ask you to stay here for me, and then let you sleep there!"
The hacker stops briefly, turns slightly red but then grins, "I don’t have a chance anyway, do I?" he asks.
You shake your head, "Not without a war"
-------------------------------------
Luckily, you are in possession of a much too large sweatpants which fits him only narrowly, but fits.
The room is dark and it is completely quiet in the whole apartment. You try to be inconspicuous, and slide a bit towards him. You know he’s not asleep yet, and when he doesn’t try to stop you, you get a whole lot closer.
You hear Jake lifting the blanket, the invitation to come to him entirely.You don’t take your time but slide so close that you can put your head on his chest and he puts an arm around you. Immediately its beautiful smell envelops you and your pulse accelerates many times. Even his heart you hear racing what makes you smile.
"Do you know how many times I dreamed about it?" he whispers into the darkness and your heart makes a leap, "No, but if it was only half as often as I did, then I can imagine it," you answer and a quiet laugh vibrates in his chest.
"Good night, MC, see you tomorrow"
"Good night, Jake," you whisper, and then you feel his lips flapping softly over your forehead, just a touch, like a breeze. But for you, it means the world.
Welcome new life, you mean well with me.
❤️🎭🌹
Masterlist
#duskwood#duskwood jake#duskwood mc#duskwood jake x mc#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood group#everbyte#everbyte studios
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JM JK timeline.- my observations how they grew over the years - 2017
Disclaimer: these are my own opinions and conclusions. Feel free to disagree, but hate or aggression will be unacceptable.
This is a long one, so I will to post this in several parts (at least 4).
2017 - Part 1
2017 is an enormous year for the couple. This is such a significant year for the both of them.
This is a year that both JK and JM become way bolder.
Saying that, out of the two, it’s JK that I feel gets much more comfortable within his own skin, and feels ready to be louder. Not only is JK making progress in coming to terms with himself, but he is ready to tell the world about it. He is young, he is impulsive, meaning he most definitely needs reigning in by the members on several occasions.
I think that is why, sometimes, it feels to us like he is more reserved with JM when it comes to the ‘skinship’ or closeness, because when he isn’t, he tends to go ‘too far’. It’s sometimes easier to keep away, not touch, not react, than to touch or react and lose control in the process. The ‘big’ or ‘loud’ moments we do get from him are mostly (GCFT not one of them) when he is acting impulsively, doing first and only then thinking it over.
Another thing we see this year is the two getting comfortable within the relationship. By the end of the year we get to see how much more comfortable they are within themselves. You can’t say yet that there is a calm between them, but they are getting there.
At this point all the members of the group are aware of the relationship, and I believe that in 2017 the important surrounding staff are made aware too. Were they outright told, or did they just ‘get it’ as the time past? Maybe both, in a way, all to be able to protect both members, and not to let things get out of control (protecting the band and the brand). I think that the staff knowing allowed them both more freedom to be themselves, at least when off camera, without needing to hide all of the time.
This is the year of both JM’s and JK’s love odes to each other.
This year brought us bv2, GCFT, Serendipity, JK’s graduation and so much more.
We still see the micro touches and brushes, but there is also a boldness, especially on JK’s part. As JK is finding his place within the relationship, asserting himself, he is also maturing, so he learns how to assert himself but also learns how to be more attentive to JM’s needs, especially his emotional needs.
JM was, and still continues to be JK’s anchor. He is his biggest supporter, pushing him to challenge his boundaries, pushing him to the front, helping him when he is down, being there for him when he is hurt.
But JK is also there for JM. It is sometimes less noticeable, but he is the one that knows how to make him laugh, even when JM is down. He supports him when he needs it. He looks after him, makes sure he eats, protects him physically, when he thinks it’s needed.
They are like magnets – constantly seeking each other’s closeness.
I know that there are many Jikook’s that believe that JK and JM’s romantic relationship started only after their end of 2017 trip to Tokyo. I emphatically disagree. 2017 brings much development and change in their relationship, but that’s like every longer term romantic relationship. There are shifts in the relationship. The more the couple get to know each other, their wants and needs, they adjust themselves to that (as much as they want the relationship to continue). That is the push and pull we see with the boys over the first 2 years . Figuring out how they feel, what they want from each other, what they need from each other, and just how much they are willing to give the other or maybe give up of themselves.
That’s a healthy relationship – when you manage to find that point of balance. And that’s what the boys were doing throughout 2016 and 2017. That doesn’t mean that even after you find that point of balance there won’t be conflicts. It does, though, enable you to come back to that balance faster, to be able to solve the conflict, because you understand each other better, and learn how to and when to give in (Summer package 2017 - the dream catcher saga).
This brings me to the JK jealous narrative out there. I don’t love it. It makes JK out to be this possessive jealous boyfriend. It’s oversimplifying and a bit juvenile. Sorry, but that’s how I feel. I’m not saying that JK ,or for that matter JM, didn’t ever get jealous. They are human beings, like me and you. Jealousy happens. But there is a difference between getting jealous once in a while and creating this whole narrative of possessiveness jealousy, where someone is so jealous they can’t see anyone, including their closest of friends, come anywhere near your boyfriend.
Also, there could be other kinds of ‘jealousy’. Not only seeing your significant other leaving you for someone else. That is only one aspect of it, feeling threatened that someone you love will be tempted to leave you for another. But there are other aspects to jealousy too. You can be jealous of others, not a jealousy within your relationship, not a fear your significant other doesn’t love you or will leave you, but the jealousy of those others that can show affection to one another, but you can’t because of the nature of your relationship, that may have to be hidden.
There could also be frustration, not jealousy. Frustration you need to keep hiding your relationship, when all you want to do is shout out loud to the world that JM/JK is yours.
The fact that JK and JM’s relationship was something to be hidden, the fear of discovery (have you seen that clip when they are caught in the car ‘taking a photo for Twitter’? The panic on JK’s face? Seeing his face for me was heartbreaking) forced them to mellow down on their interactions, not to be obvious with the touchy feely between them.
That, in my opinion, is another reason for JK’s minimalizing his skinship with JM. Not knowing when it’s ok to touch, or just how much, or maybe the fear of going too far.
JM had less of a problem with that. Most of the time he was more calculated, knew exactly what he was doing, and how far he was pushing it (although, he too loses himself sometimes – Wings tour Japan documentary interviews, just for example).
JK couldn’t do that, so sometimes the safer thing was to disconnect all together. That’s when the cameras were on, and not behind the scenes. But not being able to show their love, having to hide, that took a toll on both of them. Seeing the person that they are building a relationship being able to be touchy with others but not with them, that hurt. And that, in my opinion, is what we see and that is interpreted as jealousy some of the time with JK and with JM alike.
2017 gave us plenty of content. And just like with 2016 timeline, I just can’t address all of the content out there. I chose to refer to the content that seems most relevant to me. No Twitter, mostly not photo shoots, even if they are the cutest. Even if some of the moments there are spontaneous, most are directed. The unicorn photo shoot, for example. So beautiful, may have some spontaneous moments, but still mostly produced and directed. Was it their own decision to pose with the unicorn? At this point in their careers, I doubt it. It’s definitely a cute Jikook moment though. They are beautiful, cute, have chemistry to die for, but it’s not more than that – not a JK and JM relationship moment, if you get what I’m driving at.
So, in JK’s words, let’s get it:
14 Jan 2017 Golden Disk awards – JK making his bae laugh, by imitating his own dance (Rainism) - exaggerating his own moves. Yes Tae joins in, but JK is the one to initiate, and JM’s attention is solely on him. He only has eyes for JK, but wasn’t that clear by now?
16 Jan 2017 ISAC 17 – I love these ones. Just like with award shows, they have so much time to burn, that they sometimes seem to forget the cameras are there, so we get to see these little cute interactions between them, like JK finding his way to JM, wherever and whoever he may be with, little flirtatious behaviour, including JK finger hearting JM and JM doing it back to JK giggling. JM ‘flashing’ for JK . JK holding JM’s hand, while it’s around JK’s waist, when photo taken.
19 Jan 2017 – Seoul Music Awards. OMG, this is a big one for me. They both look absolutely gorgeous btw. This was one of the first clips I saw. The way JK looks at JM, so beautiful. But what topped the cake for me was what JK did. JK notice JM back hugging Hobi, so he goes to Hobi, moves him aside, only then to go stand behind JM and back hug him, while gently placing his head on JM’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
First of all, why move Hobi? He wasn’t in the way, and it makes no sense to move him from below JM only to go behind JM and hug him from behind. Second, JK was fully aware that they were being photographed. You can see the members around him posing for the cameras. This is where bold JK comes in. He needs JM. JM is his safe place, his home, so who cares who can see or what they see? He wants. No. Needs to hug him and feel him, so he will.
When I saw JK close his eyes, I wanted to cry. I’m not exaggerating. It was so beautiful, so pure. When I saw this, I knew. I knew this was ‘something else’, something special.
26 Jan 2017 – Global Vlive top 10 BTS – JK asserting his place by JM’s side. Making sure JM doesn’t fall off the stool, but also pushing Jin back away from JM – that’s JK’s place not Jin’s. We also get to see, again, the hesitation when touching JM, placing his hand at his lower back, only to pull back hesitantly. We get the mutual glances, and them being in their own world. At some point RM having to whack them out of it.
7 Feb 2017 – JK’s graduation day. Big big day. Starting with JK making sure it’s JM standing by his side for the group photo. In the car , on the way to their celebratory dinner, JK singing a suggestive song while looking at JM – serenading him in a way. Then JM asks JK what he wants for a graduation present, V telling JK that JM will buy him whatever he wants, and JK asking for an apartment (something that withing cultural context is a big thing). The whole time there’s a flirty vibe between the two, V being the 3rd wheeler in the conversation.
At the restaurant the boys recreate their photo from JK’s 1st day at high school too (of course it’s the two of them centrefold).
Then, to top the cake, there’s JM’s tweet. The camera is on JM, and we hear what sounds like a kiss in the background bringing a big smile to JM’s face, and then what sounds like “My Mo, my mochi…”. Then JM says congratulations and turns the camera sideways, only to see JK sitting there, and to JK’s smile and clapping. V is in the back seat playing with his phone.
Did JK send JM a kiss? Did he call him his Mochi? . Idk.
It wouldn’t be the first or last time JK referred to JM as a Mochi.
What I am sure of is that it had nothing to do with V. He was sitting in the back playing with his phone, totally ignoring or unaware of what was going on there.
To be continued...
#jungkook#jimin#jk#jm#jikook#kookmin#jikook are real#jikook timeline#bts#jikook relationship#jikook in love
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find somewhere to grow
word count: 23.1k
warnings: fem!oc, platonic relationships (romance is not a central theme but there is some pining!), divergence from original movie plot, cursing, smoking, implied catholicism, strenuous parental relationships
recommended listening: it's a good life if you don't weaken' | the tragically hip
a/n: hi @ya-pucking-nerd!! the secret is out – i'm your partner for the summer fic exchange 🥰 this is an incredibly niche story but as soon as i found out you loved dead poets society i knew i had to do it!! it's half au half retelling with all of my dumbassery included but i hope you enjoy anyways. the biggest of thanks goes out to @antoineroussel for organizing this event, generally being amazing, and providing feedback to make this story the best it could be 💛
The only thing separating Fran from freedom is ten months at Hell-ton.
As soon as May comes she’ll be as far away as possible, hopefully somewhere in Europe, with no plans to ever return. Her parents agreed that she could spend the summer after graduation travelling the world if she maintained her straight A average at the best preparatory school in the country. Welton Academy is located on the edge of a small north-eastern town, with the only other building within walking distance being its sister school. It’s incredibly isolating, but luckily Fran has her friends to keep the loneliness at bay.
As her dad rounds the final corner of the school’s obnoxiously long private road, Fran’s stomach flutters with excitement. It’s been nearly two months since she’s seen anyone – Nate, Cale, and Tyson scattered like dust in the wind to various accounting firms across the country and Charlotte returned to England to spend time with her family. An eight week internship at a law firm kept her busy throughout the break, and Fran’s beyond happy it’s over. She has no interest in being a legal secretary, but her father is adamant. The car engine cuts off and Fran opens the door, running ahead of her parents into the auditorium. If she’s lucky one of her friends will appear and she’ll be able to sneak in a quick hello, hopefully losing her parents for good in the crowd.
“Francesca, that’s enough. Quit gallivanting around and walk beside us,” Fran’s father barks. A stern man overly concerned with appearances, he opens the car door for her mother and watches as the teenager sulk back to them.
Her mother shakes her head and tries to reason with him. “Oh Conrad, give the poor girl a break. She spent the entire summer cooped up at your brother’s firm. She just wants to see her friends.”
“She can reunite with them at the appropriate time. Right now she’s to sit with us at the ceremony. What kind of message does it send if we let her run about willy-nilly?”
The conversation ends right there, and the three of them enter the school in silence. Inside the auditorium the first three rows are reserved for senior students and family, so everyone finds seats in the middle. Fran begins to crane her neck to look behind them for a glimpse of her friends, but a swift elbow from her father has Fran facing forward in a millisecond.
Mr. Pratt’s bagpiping troupe comes bursting through the doors, and the sound echoes off the vaulted ceiling. Fran pinches her forehead in hopes of dispelling the oncoming headache she feels and prays to god and the saints above that this goes by fast. The countdown to graduation starts now. Headmaster Sakic struts up the aisle, robe swishing from the movement. The other teachers follow dutifully behind and once everyone is seated the address starts.
“Welcome back to another year at Welton, and if you’re new here we are pleased to have you,” the ancient-looking man drawls. Nate always insists that he’s a ghost, and from the angle she’s seated at Fran kind of sees it. Sakic looks about as old as dirt, and the rest of the faculty looks comparable. She sees one new face – younger than the rest with a slightly mischievous glint in his eye. Perhaps he’s the new English teacher, Fran thinks.
The speech continues, addressing parents about expectations and rankings within the country, but Fran loses interest rather quickly. It’s been the same thing since she enrolled in the sixth grade, surely they would have come up with a new format or something. Her father seems to be enjoying himself, beaming when the headmaster mentions that over half the graduating class will go on to attend an Ivy League. “That will be you,” he whispers. Fran isn’t quite sure how to tell him she doesn't plan on applying to any of them.
After what feels like a million years the ceremony is over, and she follows her folks out of the room. Headmaster Sakic stops the family on the way out. “Francesca,” he greets. “We’ll be sad to see you leave at the end of the year. Hopefully you’ll finish your time at Welton on a high note.”
She thought a simple nod of her head would suffice, but the glare Fran receives from her father says otherwise. “Yes sir,” she sputters.
The administrator quickly exchanges pleasantries with her parents before moving on to the next family. Thankfully no one speaks of Fran’s ‘disrespect’ as luggage full of her belongings are taken from the trunk and carried to the dormitory, but she imagines her mother will hear an earful on the way home. Fran can’t find the energy in her to care, even though she does feel bad about leaving her mother to deal with the monster that can be her father. Reuniting with her friends is the only thing she can think about, and besides, her father thoroughly enjoys having something to complain about.
Pushing the door of her room open, she sees Charlotte with her back to the door unpacking her clothes. Before Fran can help it, a squeal is falling from her lips and she drops her bags, immediately running into her friend’s arms for a hug.
“Fran!” she shrieks, just as happy to see the auburn haired girl with emerald eyes. “I’m so glad to be back, the weather in England was downright dreadful.” At the sight of Fran’s parents Charlotte backs away, offering them a tight-lipped smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Winters.”
They return the favour, nodding their heads in her direction before giving their daughter a final hug. After making her promise to call once a week, they leave Fran in peace. Charlotte flops on her bed, tie going askew, and Fran is quick to follow.
“Can you believe it’s our last year?” she asks, kicking her feet into the air and letting them bounce off the mattress when they come down.
Fran answers earnestly. “No. It seems like just yesterday we were moving in for the first time.”
Charlotte spills the details about how Tyson secretly came to visit her in the summer, and Fran gushes over their blossoming romance. The rest of the group clued into their feelings years ago, but she’s just happy they finally figured it out themselves and got together. Cale now owes Fran twenty dollars since he lost the bet.
Wanting to go and see her other friends as quickly as possible, Fran shoves clothes into random drawers and haphazardly makes her bed. She doesn’t even bother to set up her typewriter. Charlotte chuckles at the eagerness but she just shrugs. “Ready?”
The walk to the boys’ dormitory is a quick one. Located two floors above their own, the girls are there in no time. Finding their friends is the challenge, as neither Fran nor Charlotte have any idea what rooms they’re in. Fran hears them before she sees them, with Cale shouting as he chases Nate down the hall.
“Get back here you asshole! And give me back my book!”
Nate laughs and speeds up. “Never in a million years. I didn’t even know you could read Calesy.” The broad rascal sees Fran approaching and tosses her the object he’s holding. “Fran, catch!”
Feeling sorry for Cale, she sticks the book out for him to retrieve. “Thanks,” he huffs, slightly out of breath. “You ladies settle in alright?”
“Settle? Do you know our dear Francesca at all? As soon as her parents were back in the car she was practically dragging me here,” Charlotte says matter-of-factly, poking her friend in the ribs to continue the teasing.
Fran doesn't even try to refute the statement or defend herself by saying she let her spill some secrets before itching to get out. “What can I say? I missed my boys.”
It’s then the other young man comes into view. Stepping into the hallway, Tyson quickly jogs to where the rest of the group is chatting. Fran’s swept into a bone crushing hug by the Albertan and her feet lift an inch or two off the ground. A summer of training for the upcoming hockey season has Tyson extra muscular, though she isn’t complaining. He’ll now be able to boost her into the taller trees in order to win the stupid compitions Nate insists on having. Once he lets go, Fran waves hello to his roommate Ryan. He gives a quick hug followed by a pat on the head because he hit a growth spurt in the summer and is now a comfortable couple inches taller than her. The five of them leave Ryan in the hall and head back in the direction of the boys’ rooms, conveniently located beside each other.
One look at Charlotte has Fran realizing she’s itching for a proper reunion with her lover. “Nathan, would you care to join me for another installment of ‘Bed Jumpers’?” she asks, praying he won’t be able to turn the opportunity down. He’s always game for causing a ruckus and it’s one of the things that she loves most about him.
He shoots her a mischievous grin and does his best radio announcer impression. “On this week’s programme we’re taking a deep dive into the bed of Mr. Cale Makar. Will it pass the tests and get the bed jumpers seal of approval? We’re about to find out.” Nate grabs Fran’s hand and starts sprinting, hoping to get to the destination before his much faster friend. Out of nowhere butterflies appear in the girl’s stomach, and she can’t decide whether they’re present because she missed Nate or if they’re lingering from the former crush she had on the boy.
“Why does it have to be my bed?” Cale groans, following dejectedly. Only Tyson and Charlotte hesitate to follow, and Fran shoots them a quick wink over her shoulder as a ‘you’re welcome’ gesture.
The other two don’t notice their absence, and truthfully Fran doesn’t feel it for long. It’s so nice to share space again with the ones she cares about most. She tries not to focus on the fact that this is the last time she’ll be able to do this, insteading honing in on Nate’s laughter as he does a ridiculous dance with the sole intention of messing up Cale’s sheets. Eventually he stops reprimanding the two of them and climbs up – Fran offers her hand and Cale eagerly accepts. They’re still jumping when Charlotte and Tyson return, singing horribly off key to the Buddy Holly song that’s been atop the charts recently.
“I really thought you guys would have been over this by now,” Charlotte sighs, rolling her eyes. Her boyfriend just shrugs, not knowing exactly what to say.
She’s the first to stop jumping, plopping down in the middle of the bed. Everyone else quickly follows suit, and though it’s a tight squeeze, they all sit side-by-side. The twin bed frame groans in protest but no one pays it any mind. It’s as though everyone knows each moment together is precious, and they’re running out of time together. Nate and Tyson are set to become Wall Street investors, Charlotte will be going into nursing, and Cale is staying at Welton to assume a junior teaching position. It seems that only Fran’s future is uncertain – parents urging her to go into the legal field but she wants to do nothing more than write. Creatively, journalistically, it doesn’t matter to her. Fran finds the act of writing to be freeing, but her father has made it clear it will not be a fulfilling career. As if being cooped up in an office staring at court reports is any better.
“It’s too nice a day to waste inside,” Nate groans, “Let’s go to the lake.”
The lake in question is a glorified pond, but it provides a picturesque backdrop for Welton’s recruitment brochures. Located behind the main building, it houses a small dock where several row boats are stored. Crew rowing is quite a popular sport, and Welton has one of the best rowing teams along the Eastern Seaboard, second in prestige only to the school’s hockey program. The group isn’t the only one with the bright idea to soak up the sun’s rays on the last truly calm day, and the lawn is packed with students. The area they’ve inhabited for as long as Fran can remember is free, and the five of them race to claim it. An ancient weeping willow provides shade and cover from nosy teachers, but there’s also good access to the water to dip their feet in. Swimming is strictly prohibited, however most teachers would look the other way if the sun was being particularly cruel. Hours pass like seconds in the safe haven of the willow, and before Fran knows it all the students are being summoned for dinner.
“Hope they’ve got at least one good meal in them this year,” Cale grumbles. The rosy-cheeked boy has a point — Welton’s kitchen staff are notorious for providing lackluster nutrition. Everyone seems to be in agreement, and chats idly about potential food choices all the way to the dining hall.
The chefs must have decided to ease into the grim selection of overcooked meat and vegetables this year, because tonight they’re serving roast beef. Plate in hand, Fran waves goodbye to the boys and follows Charlotte to the table. For reasons unbeknownst to her, the dining situation is separated. It doesn’t make sense to anyone since classes are all integrated, but she supposes it’s the administration’s feeble attempt to maintain order. Too much contact with the opposite sex could detract from studies – Fran imagines the rule is in place for the benefit of the boys.
From dinner everyone is sequestered directly to their rooms. Charlotte quickly sneaks a final kiss from Tyson’s lips before the rest of the friend group continues to climb the staircase. Fran teases her relentlessly once inside the confines of their shared room. “God, you’re like a lovesick puppy!” The comment earns her a swat to the head with a pair of stockings.
“Shut up. You’d be the exact same way.”
She supposes Charlotte’s right. Perhaps she would be as loopy with love if there was someone to share it with. However, she has no intention of getting a boyfriend, even though sometimes she lays awake at night thinking about what it would be like, and several times Nate has been the object of those daydreams. Nothing is going to get in the way of making every last memory possible with her friends.
Sleep comes easy. She’s exhausted from the hustle and bustle of moving, but also from the content she feels being back at school. Though it isn’t always easy, Welton has become more of a home to her than the house she grew up in. This is largely in part to her friends but she wouldn’t change it for the world. That night she dreams of a life where the five of them are never separated.
Morning comes much too quickly for Fran’s liking. If it were up to her, classes wouldn’t start until at least ten. The ringing of Charlotte’s alarm clock jolts her awake, and she squints through the darkness to see it reads 6:45. There’s exactly half an hour before she has to be downstairs for breakfast.
“Ugh, why must we get up so early,” Fran groans, looking over to see that Charlotte is pulling on her sweater, already dressed for the day.
She laughs at her roommate’s sluggishness. “I’ve been up for ages. Suppose my body still isn’t used to the time change.”
“You think by now it would be.”
Charlotte just shrugs, not having an answer. She may be a science student, but even that knowledge evades her. The two of them finish getting dressed and rush to the bathroom. If they don’t get there before everyone else, the line to brush their teeth becomes unbearable. A few other girls are moving around, but the floor is mostly quiet. Fran doubts the boys’ floor is the same – they’re always jumping around and giving the Head Boy more grief than he deserves. The bell rings, signaling the dining hall is ready for students. Fran and Charlotte head for the stairs, and meet up with Cale.
“Where’s everyone else?” she asks.
He rolls his eyes and Fran knows he’s already had to deal with a handful. “It seems they’re a little slow this morning,” he sighs. “Oh, before I forget, we’ve got a table booked tonight for a study group. Eight sharp, don’t be late.”
After getting a verbal confirmation that both girls will be in attendance, Cale splits from them to sit with the other senior boys. Breakfast today is simple: eggs and toast, but it will keep them going until lunch. Charlotte chats excitedly about the new biology curriculum and Fran half listens. The only reason she’s still in science is because it’s mandatory. If she had the choice her timetable would be filled with English courses, but alas, Welton only offers standard English as opposed to additional creative writing courses. It’s not as though her father would let her take them anyways. Instead, Fran’s day is spent in a bunch of courses she could care less about.
Biology, Chemistry, and Latin pass without incident. Every class has the same spiel: students are to do well in order to get into Ivy Leagues and to keep Welton in the top spot of all preparatory academies in the country. The teaching staff don’t care if they learn anything — everything is all about keeping up appearances. Homework is piled on to maintain the rigorous academic schedule supported by the administration, and by the time lunch rolls around Fran’s collected a solid three hours of work. It’s all due the next day because doesn’t believe in easing students back into the swing of things.
“This is all so mindless,” she complains to her friends during the noon break.
Cale immediately comes to the defense of his future colleagues. “It isn’t them,” he explains. “The system is deeply flawed and needs an overhaul.”
“Shut up Calesy, you’re literally less than a year away from becoming one of them,” Nate pipes in. “I agree with Fran. Everything about this place sucks.”
“Except for us,” Tyson chimes.
Nate shoots his friend a toothy grin. “Right you are Tys.”
The five of them joke around until the bell rings, signalling the end of break and the start of the second half of the day. Trigonometry, Geography, and History are the same as every other class. The constant reminder of what they have to achieve is becoming unbearable, and by the time English starts Fran is so sick of hearing the same three sentences. It’s bad enough she’ll be letting down her parents with her decision to attend a publicly funded college, but now she’ll be letting her school down as well.
Fran shuffles into her seat behind Tyson and waits for the teacher to arrive. “I heard he’s new, fresh out of a post-doctorate program from Oxford,” he whispers.
“Maybe he’ll teach us something interesting,” she huffs. Tyson laughs, but knows she’s serious. The lack of originality in the English department has been a thorn in Fran’s side since ninth grade.
Without warning the overhead lights cut out, leaving everyone in the dark. Murmurs of what could have happened erupt but they’re turned back on just as quickly. Searching for the culprit, Fran turns in her seat to see the doorway and comes face to face with an exuberant man. He winks when they lock eyes, like the two of them are sharing a secret. “Follow me,” he cheers, and exits just as fast as he appeared.
The students look hesitantly between each other. No one knows what to do – teachers at Welton aren’t like this. They don’t spontaneously host lessons someplace else and certainly don’t get their pupils’ attention by rattling a lightswitch.
“Something about this doesn’t sit quite right,” Charlotte whispers, and others nod in agreement. Everyone stays firmly planted in their seats. Fran thought that Nate might follow, since he typically does things in reckless abandon, but even he looks uneasy. A knot in her stomach says that the man, whoever he was, is the teacher and everyone is putting themselves in a risky position by not following his orders.
Before she can commit to leaving the room he comes back. “Don’t you want today’s lesson? You’ll be awfully behind otherwise.”
It’s settled. With a bit more coaxing, everyone picks up their books and files out of the room. The whispers only increase as the students follow the teacher, wondering where he could be taking them. “This is how we die,” Cale mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets in frustration.
“We aren’t going to die Cale,” Tyson reasons. “Perhaps the lesson is better suited for outside.”
The rosy-cheeked boy isn’t convinced. “He’s taking us to a secondary location, Tys! That’s standard procedure for murders.”
“No one is dying,” Fran sighs, grabbing them both by the elbows in an effort to keep up to the rest of the class. “I think we’re just heading to the library. Makes sense for an English class, don’t you think?”
Sure enough, the group of teenagers grinds to a halt outside the library’s double doors. It’s silent as they wait for new instructions. Nothing comes – instead everyone is ushered into the room. Winding through the aisles and statue replicas, the front of the group stops at a section of study tables. The library is deserted so the class chatters freely, unable to disturb anyone. The still unidentified man clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “My sincerest apologies for the kerfuffle. I just wanted us to talk in a bit more of a natural setting. I’m Mr. Bednar, though I also respond to ‘O Captain, my Captain’. We’ll be spending the year together. This is my first teaching position in a few years, but I’m very excited to learn together. Who wants to introduce themselves first?”
It’s silent. Despite all the curveballs Mr. Bednar has thrown today, it’s clear no one was expecting this. The other teachers don’t make attempts to know their students – all interactions are sterile and removed. Eventually the silence becomes too much and Nate speaks up. “Hello, I’m Nathan MacKinnon, but please call me Nate,” he says. Fran is glad he’s fearless because there was no way she was speaking first.
“Thank you for taking the first leap Mr. MacKinnon,” the teacher laughs. “Anyone else?”
One by one, each student rhymed off their name. Fran falls somewhere in the middle, not wanting to seem too eager but also not wanting to be seen as a slacker. English is the subject she enjoys the most, and she wants to develop a good relationship with the teacher. “Francesca Winters,” she sputters nervously, and Cale tries to cover up a laugh with a cough. Fran jabs him in the ribs in retaliation, and swears she sees the teacher’s eyes crinkle, hinting at a smile.
“Pleasure to have you, Miss Winters. I heard from some of the other teachers that you have quite the knack for writing.”
Fran blushes profusely and her friends snicker beside her. Charlotte whispers something in her ear, but Fran doesn’t hear, too focussed on trying not to curl into a ball from embarrassment. The last thing she wants is for someone to have high expectations of her and not be able to live up to them. Mr. Bednar talks for a bit about the structure of the course and it seems entertaining. Classes are to be discussions, not lectures, and she’s excited because it’s like no other course at Welton. The typical pressure of scoring high on tests is gone, allowing Fran and the others to focus on enjoying the content. Mr. Bednar makes it very clear that his sole purpose is to help them learn to think for themselves and expand their literary horizons. When the bell rings, signalling the end of day, Fran can’t help but be a little upset. At least there will be one class she won’t dread.
☼☼☼☼
By the time Fran and Charlotte get to the fourth floor common room, the boys look like they’ve already given up on work. Nate is deeply invested in building a transistor radio from scratch, Tyson is aimlessly looking at the ceiling, and Cale is pinching his brow in frustration. At the arrival of his girlfriend Tyson seems to gain more life, sitting up straight and offering her a bright smile. “Study group, eh?” Fran smirks as she sets her books down, shoving Cale’s shoulder slightly. He offers her a tense smile that looks more like a grimace and returns to his book.
“Calesy’s just upset that he’s the only one who doesn’t understand the trig problem,” Nate sing-songs. A death glare is sent his way by the other boy, and a snarky comment rolls off Cale’s tongue.
“At least I give enough fucks to try and figure it out instead of copying Tyson’s answer like you did,” he huffs. “Some of us actually care about getting an education.”
A scuffle breaks out amongst the two of them when Nate lunges at Cale, forgetting it’s no longer a fair fight. Though in good shape, Cale’s athleticism pales in comparison to his friend’s. Too tired to break up the fight, Fran opens her chemistry textbook and begins working on the problem set. Dr. Sakic, in charge of patrolling the floor tonight, hears the racket the boys are causing and rushes into the room.
“Mr. MacKinnon and Mr. Makar,” he booms, voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. The horse play ends immediately, and both of them sink into their seats. “I expected better from you both.”
“Sorry Sir,” they apologize in tandem, too afraid to meet the man’s gaze.
The headmaster gives them a sharp nod. “Any more nonsense this week and I’ll keep you here for the break. You’ll have a wonderful time cleaning the chalk brushes.” Without another word, he turns on his heel to exit the room, but spins around when a sound comes from the speaker that had hastily been shoved into Tyson’s lap to protect it during the scuffle. “That better not be a radio in your hands Mr. Jost,” Dr. Sakic says pointedly. “You know they’re forbidden at Welton.”
“Of course it’s not Sir,” Tyson stammers. “It’s a science project. A radar. Just want to get an early start.”
The old man nods in approval and leaves the room, but not before giving it another sweep with his hawk-like eyes.
Silence overtakes the table out of fear, and by the grace of god Fran doesn’t struggle with the problem set. Nate gets her to help explain the one question he doesn’t understand, and once the work is done they all relax for the last half hour before curfew. No one really talks, enjoying the silence that rarely overtakes the group. Tyson and Charlotte cuddle into the large armchair in the corner and talk in hushed tones, leaving the rest of them to their own devices.
Fran tries her hardest to commit every detail to memory. Sounds, sights, smells – anything to help her remember the joy and contentment she feels. Come this time next year things will be vastly different and she wants to have a bank of memories to escape to when things get tough.
☼☼☼☼
Routine paints Fran’s life a dull shade of grey. There isn’t much she can do to combat it – Welton prides itself on a rigorous schedule that leaves no room for imagination. All extracurriculars besides the annual yearbook club are professional and promote the school’s code of conduct. The school newspaper was to be her magnum opus, her lasting impression upon Welton, but she was forced to resign as editor-in-chief by her father. The phone call had been filled with tears as Fran tried to argue with him, to make him see reason. It was no use because he was convinced the paper was a waste of time and wouldn’t make her college applications stand out. Fran’s mother said nothing, choosing not to insert herself into the matter. There was nothing she could do except sign the resignation paper and clear out her desk.
September passes by in a blur. Homework keeps Fran busy and her friends do the best they can to keep the sadness of losing the editorial position at bay. Charlotte is at her side nearly around the clock, always with a smile and a shoulder to confide in. Cale keeps her mind active by giving book recommendations once a week, and the other two help in any way they know how, whether that’s stealing snacks from the kitchen or letting Fran borrow sweaters when she gets cold. The year would be much more challenging and lonely if she didn’t have them.
The only place she truly feels joy is Mr. Bednar’s English class. Unlike the other teachers at Welton, he allows her to think for herself and express different viewpoints. Classes are spent reciting passages from novels and dancing around the classroom. It’s a Friday before a long weekend and Fran’s expecting to be assigned a lot of homework. She grumbles with Nate as they step into the room, and to her surprise the desks are all pushed to the side.
“Place your stuff on a desk and then huddle around,” Mr. Bednar shouts gleefully, sitting on his own. Eager to see what he has in store, she and the other students follow his directions. Nearly a month with the unconventional teacher has them used to these random class setups, and Fran imagines there will be a useful lesson at the end.
“Today’s class is all about realizing what you want in life,” he explains. “Each of you has ten minutes to envision what you hope your life looks like in ten years. Then you’ll act it out to your peers.”
“Sir, what does this have to do with English?” Tyson asks.
“Ah Mr. Jost, always asking the important questions,” the teacher chuckles. “You’ll have to write me a paper about your realizations of course. Just a small one, one page will suffice. The purpose of this exercise is to help you think outside the academic lens. None of you will be in school forever, and I think it will be beneficial for you to start to think about your futures outside an academic context.”
Mr. Bendar whistles loudly, and the brainstorming time begins. Shrugging her shoulders in compliance to her friends’ anxious stares, Fran screws her eyes shut and lets her mind wander. Almost immediately something comes to mind: she hopes to be at a book signing for her latest bestseller with her friends in the audience. Her parents couldn’t make it, but that’s okay – she doesn’t talk to them often anymore. After the event she brings everyone back to her apartment on the top floor of a swanky building and they enjoy each other’s company until the early hours of the morning. Fran feels warm and content and wants to stay in the daydream forever, but another whistle jostles her free and reality makes its unfortunate return.
“Any volunteers to go first?” Mr. Bednar asks with a smile on his face. A boy who looks far too small to be in twelfth grade timidly sticks up his hand. Fran recognizes him to be one of the few transfer students the school accepted this year, and gives him a thumbs up in encouragement. He introduces himself as Nico and depicts a fantasy where he’s the youngest senator in the country’s history and has everyone betting he’ll be president once he reaches the age requirement. It seems like an awful lot of work to her, but at least he has a dream his parents approve of. Other students follow, but Fran zones out. It dawns on her that Welton sends monthly reports home and if her father finds out she’s propecizing about being an author he’ll pull her out of school without a second thought. She begins to brainstorm an acceptable answer, something about being a legal secretary.
Eventually everyone has gone but Fran. “Miss Winters, would you do the honours of closing out the exercise?”
A lump forms in the back of her throat, and it’s all she can do to push it down. “Of course Captain,” she stumbled over the words. Charlotte squeezes Fran’s hand to ground her, and she sends her friend a thankful glance. Her legs tremble slightly as she moves to the center of the room – she really has to sell this. “When I look ten years into the future,” she began, “I see myself balancing a successful career in law and having a family. Of course I’ll only be working part time, as the kids will come first. I’ll live in a quaint little house in my hometown and spend a lot of time helping my aging parents. It will be a wonderful life.” Fran picks her brain quickly for any other aspirations her father might have, but can’t think of any, so she begins to return to her spot on the floor.
“Why are you lying to us?”
Fran’s shocked – she thought she had done a good job at selling the fantasy she detests more than anything in the world. “I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Bednar gestures for her to return to the spotlight, and she dejectedly shuffles backwards. “Franecsca, I asked you to share your hopes and dreams, not those of your parents. Do you really think Nico’s dad wants him to become a crooked politician? Of course not, they want him to become a doctor! We all have our own desires, so what are yours?”
A quick glance at her friends lets her know they’re cheering her on, and Fran recounts everything she saw when she first closed her eyes. The signing, the party, the unbridled joy she felt – nothing is held back. At some point Mr. Bednar encourages her to share what the book will be about, and before Fran can stop herself she’s reciting lines from a novel that hasn’t even been written. It’s exhilarating to picture a life that’s completely her own, and she doesn't know if she’ll be able to stop. Once she’s exhausted every possible plot line and characterization, Fran sinks to the floor in a proud exhaustion. Her teacher sends a charming wink her way before speaking. “Well, that just about does it for today. I have nothing else planned. Want to go play a game of soccer?”
On the way to the field, Fran’s friends shower her with compliments and praise. “That was fantastic darling,” Charlotte gushes. Tyson agrees with her, applauding Fran’s bravery for being true to herself.
Nate chimes in. “You have to write that book! I won’t stop hounding you until it’s done.”
“I don’t know Nate,” she sighs. “It was just a dream. We all have a life planned out for us in the real world.”
“But that could be your real world, Fran!” Tyson argues. “You sound so in love with the idea, and you’re the only one I know who could pull it off.”
Fran’s cheeks blush rose at her friend’s words. Only Cale is yet to say anything, so she shoots him a quizzical look. “What do you think Calesy?”
“I think,” he states, a broad smile across his features, “That you’ve already sold five copies of that novel of yours.”
☼☼☼☼
A few weeks later, Tyson knocks ferociously on the girls’ dorm room door after the annual club meeting. He’s junior supervisor, second in command only to Mr. Arthur, the Latin teacher. It’s a Thursday night, and their room is the designated spot for unwinding because the matron, Nancy, is kind and lets the boys stay a few minutes after curfew, telling their supervisor they were assisting her. “Look what I found!” he says excitedly, flipping an old book open to a specific page that doesn’t make sense to anyone but him. Tyson softens once he sees Charlotte, kissing her gently on the forehead. “Hello dear,” he whispers tenderly.
His girlfriend giggles before pointing to the annual. “Tell us what this is about!”
“Ah yes,” Tyson says, finally getting on track. “This is the annual from 1943. Guess who was in the graduating class?”
The rest of the group studies the pictures and all shout the answer at the same time. “Mr. Bednar!”
“Yep. And look right under his name, which I didn’t peg him to be a Adam, there’s a club I’ve never seen before. The Society For Banned and Burned Books, what is that?”
No one has an answer. “We should ask him tomorrow,” Nate suggests. “Find him outside during the afternoon break. I’m sure he’d tell us what it’s about.”
A knock rings out for the second time that night. Nancy peeks her head in and waves the boys to hurry up. “I’ve kept you out later than normal,” she says kindly, “but it’s time you return to your own dormitories.” Goodbyes are said and a makeshift plan is hatched. Sleep doesn’t come easy as Fran is too excited to find out about the club that is no longer offered at Welton.
The Society for Banned and Burned Books is all Fran can think of. The name is so vague – it could mean a million different things. How is she to know the truth? She’s distracted the entire morning, losing focus as her mind wanders through the different possibilities. In chemistry she almost ruins the experiment because she isn’t paying attention, and the titration would have been ruined if Tyson hadn’t caught it in time. Judging by the absent stares that Fran occasionally catches, the rest of the group isn’t doing much better. The question is eating everyone alive.
After what feels like three years, the bell that signals the start of break chimes. Fran’s out of her seat in an instant, and the others are close on her heels. Once outside, she notices no one is there yet, and they all take refuge under the willow tree by the lake. Slowly students and staff trickle into the yard but Mr. Bednar still doesn’t appear. Cale has the genius idea that he might be supervising a different part of the grounds, and the five of them make the trek up the hill. The man in question is sitting on a bench near the edge of the property, watching a group of elementary kids play in the sandpit.
“Mr. Bednar,” Nate shouts, even though the group is still a hundred and fifty yards away from him, “We have a question!”
There’s no response. The older man doesn’t give them the time of day, instead focusing on a particular patch of flowers that seem to be dwindling in health. Tyson tries this time to get his attention. “O Captain, my Captain!”
The English teacher waves them over enthusiastically, chuckling to himself as he watches the boys race each other to see who gets there first. Charlotte and Fran are hot on their heels, not wanting to miss any information that might be vital.
“What’s going on?” The older man asks, looking for a reason to explain the sudden outburst of five students approaching him on the break.
Tyson pulls the annual out from his jacket and flips it to the page he marked with a piece of Fran’s stationary kit. “What’s the Society for Banned and Burned Books? None of us have ever seen the club offered at Welton?”
Suddenly, everyone is being pulled closer and Mr. Bednar is speaking in hushed tones. “Don’t you dare mention it to anyone,” he says, and the look in his eyes tells Fran he means business. “That little club nearly got me expelled, and if the administration catches whiff of it again my goose will be cooked. What fun it was, though, to sneak out under the cover of darkness and read things that actually expanded our minds.” When he realizes none of the children in front of him understand what he’s going on about, Mr. Bednar clarifies. “The name implies what we were all about. We’d read books that had been banned by the school board or things European regimes set ablaze. It was thrilling. I have a feeling I wouldn’t be the scholar I am today if it hadn't been for the Society.”
The bell rings again, signalling the return of classes. Everyone thanks the teacher for his honesty, and with a heavy sigh begins the trek back to the school building. When the group is almost within earshot of other staff they hear Mr. Bednar shout, “It met twice a month!”
Later in the evening, at dinner, a folded up piece of paper makes its way to the table where the girls were eating dinner. Charlotte opens it quickly, knowing it’s from the boys, and Fran presses against her side to read it. We’re resurrecting the Society tonight. You guys in? it says in Nate’s chicken scratch. Fran looks up to see them staring at her, waiting for an answer. Charlotte looks at her friend in silent deliberation, and a second later they’ve both made up their minds. Three nods, the group’s secret code for yes, is thrown in the boys’ direction, and she catches Tyson fist pumping out of the corner of her eye.
“How are we doing this?” Fran asks Cale as everyone exits the dining hall. “We barely know what it’s even about.”
He just shrugs. “There was a package on Tys’s desk when he got back from class. It had a bunch of books and a note signed J.B. We all just assumed it was from Mr. Bednar.”
It seems to be the only explanation Fran’s going to get. Honestly, the idea of breaking the rules for once in her life is incredibly enticing, so there’s no way she’s letting the boys carry on without her. There’s no doubt that Charlotte is already planning the escape route to the small cave just off Welton’s property, so it seems her fate is decided. As Fran climbs the stairs she discusses logistics with Cale and learns that Tyson has it all figured out – after all the staff have gone to sleep, everyone will sneak out of bed and meet in the dormitory’s west stairwell before running across the yard to avoid being caught. It will be easy enough and Fran isn't worried. As long as she brings a treat to distract Spot, Dr. Sakic’s dog, things should go off without a hitch. At the landing for her floor she says her goodbyes to Cale before skipping down the hallway.
Fran spends the next few hours pacing the length of her bed. Charlotte tries to calm her nerves, but it’s no use. She’s just as excited and keyed-up as Fran, so together they pass the time by making up silly songs. It takes them to lights out in the blink of an eye, and when Nancy comes in to give a final warning there’s a full blown concert in the works, complete with hairbrush microphones.
“Good night girls,” she says, a knowing smile on her face. She definitely notices the electric excitement running through the room, bouncing rapidly between the two girls, but doesn’t say anything.
Charlotte says good night for the both of them as Fran slips into the hall to use the bathroom. When she returns, her roommate is perched on the windowsill, book in hand. The pair of them have to find quiet ways to distract from the slow passage of time, not wanting to risk staff members staying up to check on them if they’re too loud. Sighing gently as she flops onto her bed, Fran begins to daydream about what it would be like to live the life she truly dreams of, the one prophesied in Mr. Bednar’s exercise. Apparently she spends longer than anticipated in the fantasy because Charlotte is trying desperately to get her attention.
“It’s been hours, everyone has to be asleep,” she whispers. “The boys are probably waiting for us. Come on.”
A quick peek out the door confirms Charlotte’s suspicions – slumber has overtaken the residents of Welton Academy. The pair of them slip on school issued coats and boots, and do their best to silence the door’s creaking hinges. Luckily they were given a room at the end of the corridor and they leave with little issue. Cale and Tyson are waiting in the stairwell as planned, but Nate is nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Nate?” Charlotte asks, pecking Tyson on the cheek in greeting.
“He went ahead to do reconnaissance,” Cale explains.
That makes sense, especially for Nate, and without another moment’s hesitation the group departs. They grab Nate on the ground floor and scurry through the darkness. No one speaks until the school grounds are well behind them, too anxious the plan would fail if even a peep was uttered. The woods offer a sound barrier and the friends chat freely, fretting about upcoming midterm examinations and the looming Ivy League application deadline. Fran’s insides twist slightly when Cale brings it up, worried about how her father will respond to her lack of applications, but the thought is thrown to the back of her mind when everyone screeches to a halt outside the final destination.
The cave they decided to sneak to is more of a large rock pile, but it will do the trick. It’s quite spacious – the five of them will fit without any issue. Nate’s the first one in, followed by Tyson. Charlotte and Fran scuttle in soon after, and Cale brings up the rear, rolling a small boulder over the ‘door’ to hopefully keep out animals interested in intruding. Once the dust settles and the group is comfortable to the best of their abilities, Tyson pulls the package left for him from his jacket and clears his throat.
“Welcome to the inaugural meeting of the reinvisioned Society for Banned and Burned Books.”
The words send shivers down Fran’s spine. It’s thrilling to be here with her friends, doing something frowned upon by mainstream society. They’ll all be dead if anyone at Welton ever figures out what is going on, but she’d gladly sink all of her life prospects if it meant spending time with her friends. She can’t wait to see what the adventure brings.
Nate snickers from beside Fran. “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it, Tys, just get on with it. We don’t have all night.”
The comment earns him a death glare, but Tyson continues with less performative lustre. “We were given this package, presumably by Mr. Bednar, to expand our minds and create memories that will last long after we leave Welton.” Sad smiles are shared, none of them wanting to think about the end of an era that’s drawing closer. There’s a slight voice crack as he speaks again, and it echoes off the stone walls. “Is everyone willing to take the oath so we can begin?”
“Jesus Christ, are we joining a cult?” Charlotte quips, but the smile on her face gives away the giddiness she’s feeling. Head nods come from the rest of the group, and the unofficial officiant gets started.
“It says to put up your right hand,” Tyson says, “And repeat after me. I solemnly swear to protect the secrecy of the Society. I swear to come in with an open mind, and let my potential flourish. I will use the Society to make lasting memories and to become a multi-dimensional person who thinks for themselves. The world is mine.”
Everyone repeats the words, voices mixing together until they’re indistinguishable from one another. With the first order of business out of the way, Tyson sits down and takes a deeper look at what was dropped on his desk – a worn paper explaining how the club works, a reading list, and a few books to get them started. Titles include The Grapes of Wrath, The Catcher in the Rye, Ulysses, and Animal Farm. Fran notices that all the books have been banned or burned in at least two countries: it seems the name of The Society is very literal. It also seems that Mr. Bednar hoped they would stay true to form as the club moulds to fit their needs and desires.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cale insists. “We have to be back before everyone starts waking up. Sakic is an early riser.”
They spend the next couple of hours reading aloud and laughing together. After a quick vote it is decided the inaugural book will be The Catcher in the Rye since it seemed interesting, and then they will work their way through the others. Whenever it’s Nate’s turn to read he speaks in different voices and overextends his hand motions; it keeps everyone in stitches.
Before Fran can register how long it’s truly been, Cale checks his watch and alerts the group that it’s nearing three. If they want to get at least a few hours of sleep they need to return to Welton now. Reluctantly, everyone packs up. The trip back to school is silent, exhaustion seeping into their bones and making it hard to think about anything else besides sleep. By the time Fran climbs the stairs to her dormitory floor she can barely keep her eyes open. Charlotte says goodbye to the boys on her behalf, and Fran’s asleep before the other girl slips into their shared room.
A sluggishness encapsulates the group for the entirety of the next day. It seems that no one slept well, all tired eyes and slow movements. Strange looks are given by other students but they’re fairly easy to ignore – Fran is just desperately trying to get through the day so she can crash again. The years of strict, regimented routine at Welton have her circadian rhythm working in a particular way, and staying up late certainly did a number on her. Charlotte is faring better than everyone else– her body used to sleep deprivation on account of time change. It’s all Fran can do to stay awake during English, her final class of the day. If Mr. Bednar notices her wavering consciousness, he doesn’t say anything. In fact, Fran thinks she catches him winking at Tyson, as though he knows just what they were up to last night. Today’s lesson flies right over her head, and as soon as the bell rings she’s scrambling to pick up her books.
“Feeling a little bit under the weather today, Miss Winters?” he asks, closing his lesson plan.
Fran searches his face for any sign that he might snitch on her for being unresponsive in class but finds nothing. “Just a bit tired, Captain,” she quips. “Was up terribly late trying to get comfortable. My mattress has been giving me issues.”
“I’ll be sure to alert Nancy of your troubles. She’ll hate to know you’ve been uncomfortable.”
She knows damn well he won’t say anything, and that he truly knows the reason for her fatigue. However, she appreciates the game he’s playing. That way, if things don’t go to plan and the group gets busted by the administration, his hands will be clean. Fran would hate to see his teaching career blown apart by a group of raucous teens like her own dear friends.
As soon as she’s back in her room Fran crashes onto the bed with a thud. Muttering a jumbled package of words to Charlotte that resemble a request to wake her up for dinner, she climbs under the covers and falls asleep for the second time of the day.
☼☼☼☼
Fran’s body adjusts to the deficit in rest after the second meeting. It’s shorter, with Cale keeping a much closer eye on the time, but still fun. They’re nearly halfway through the novel, and votes are already being cast for what to read next. It’s getting easier for Fran to balance school and the club. The term has picked up, but despite the homework mounting on her desk she’s happy. Her grades are flawless, more than adequate for admission to an Ivy League, but she could care less. No one besides her friends know of her decision to only apply to other institutions, so Fran’s academic success gives her father enough false hope to let her live a mostly uninterrupted life at Welton. Things are good, and she often forgets that in a matter of months everything she knows will be completely turned on its head.
When Fran gets to Mr. Bednar’s classroom one afternoon, she’s surprised to find it empty. There’s no sign he’s been there for hours and worry fills her brain. What if someone saw the group sneaking out last night and is planting the blame on Mr. Bednar because he’s unconventional? Fran isn’t sure what she’d do if that happens, as he’s one of the only reasons she still shows an interest in school.
“Where’s Captain?” Charlotte asks the group, but no one has an answer for him. Tyson and Cale shrug indifferently, and Nate is too busy trying to catch the attention of a girl he’s been crushing on to pay any attention to the blonde. Fran rolls her eyes in disgust, upset Nate doesn’t seem to care about their missing teaching, and tries not to focus on the sting of him paying attention to someone that isn’t her
“I hope he’s alright,” she frets quietly.
As if Cale can sense how much worry is in her words, he places a hand on Fran’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “He’s fine, Fran. Probably just late returning from the bathroom.”
On cue, the eccentric English teacher peeks his head through the open door. “Well, come on! It’s one of the last nice days out,” Mr. Bednar chirps happily. “We’re outside today. No need to bring your books.”
No one even bats an eye at the instruction. Lessons like this occur at least twice a week, and Fran and all the other students look forward to them. It’s an invigorating and refreshing way to use their brains. The teacher leads everyone to the small courtyard that’s adjacent to the humanities wing, and stops in the middle. On instinct, the class huddles around him.
“I need three students to help demonstrate,” Mr. Bednar begins. “Mr. Makar, Mr. Jost, and Miss Tennant, care to do the honours?”
The three of them erupt into a chorus of yeses, eager to please their favourite instructor, though Charlotte shies away at the use of her last name.
“Well then, that settles it. Everyone else, please move to the sides,” he says, waiting patiently for any stragglers to follow instruction. “Now, you three, I want you to walk around the courtyard until I tell you to stop.”
On his signal, Fran’s friends set off, and she watches in confusion. At first, all three are walking in sync: turning corners at the same time and taking equal paces. Tyson is the first to break the pattern, widening his gait and letting his arms swing. Charlotte takes note of his divergence and begins to do her own thing. She twirls and skips about, giggling the entire time. Only Cale stays on the original route, looking every so often towards Mr. Bednar in hopes of positive feedback.
“That’s quite enough,” the older man says. “Thank you. Now can anyone tell me what happened?” It’s silent, his voice echoing off the stone walls and arches. “No one? Alright. What happened was an experiment on conformity. Our subjects started off the same, but soon after Mr. Jost got a little bored and became more relaxed. He walked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Ms. Tennant threw caution to the wind completely, dancing around. One could hardly call it walking. Only Mr. Makar stayed within what he thought were the parameters of the assignment. He was timid, searching for approval.”
The lesson continues, and Mr. Bednar makes a point of explaining that conformity makes things extremely boring, both in literature and life. Fran understands immediately and takes the message to heart. It would be so much better to live life on her terms, and from this moment forward she’s determined to put her happiness first. Near the end of class, everyone is unleashed to do their own walking. The class walks at varying paces, and Fran joins her roommate in skipping around in a circle. Only Nate refuses to walk, and when asked about it he shrugs.
“Exercising my right not to walk, Captain,” he says, which earns an eye roll and a smirk from the teacher.
“You’re certainly illustrating the point, Mr. MacKinnon.”
Later that night at the meeting, over pages of The Grapes of Wrath, Fran gushes about how Mr. Bednar’s lessons make her truly feel alive. Her friends agree, all particularly inspired by the passionate teacher. However, they share looks amongst themselves – proud Fran finally feels secure enough in what she wants to think about sticking up to her father. Although almost double in length than the previous novel, the group is making solid progress and is on track to finish the book before the holiday break.
Tonight Nate brought a saxophone, and after reading some of his own prose he breaks into song. The tune isn’t distinguishable because he isn’t much of a musician, but it still makes Fran laugh hysterically. Tyson joins in, crooning some words over the melody. Soon an impromptu jam session is in full effect: Cale works out a beat on a steel drum found just outside of their secret hideaway, and Charlotte and Fran provide handclaps and harmonies. The number ends in a fit of giggles tumbling from everyone’s lips, and Fran has trouble stifling them once she reaches Welton's property again. Sleep comes easy once back in her room, and Fran dreams of creating a lifetime of adventures with her friends.
☼☼☼☼
It’s a bright Tuesday when Fran spots the flyer on the bulletin board in the lobby. There, handwritten in large scrawling script, are the words Writing Seminar for Young Authors. She’s intrigued and reads all the information available on the sheet of paper. It seems to be taking place at Henley Hall, Welton’s sister school, and will run for nearly the rest of the year. Fran copies the contact information into her pocketbook and heads upstairs to compose a piece of literature worthy of admission.
Charlotte finds her there, several hours later, surrounded in a large pile of crumpled paper.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Fran slams her pen down on her notebook a smidge too aggressively, causing the other girl to flinch slightly. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m just trying to get this submission perfect before I drop it off in the morning.”
“Oh!” Charlotte chirps excitedly. “Your dad is letting you write articles in the school paper again?”
A silence covers the room like a thick blanket. “Uh, not exactly,” Fran murmurs. “Henley is doing a writing seminar and I’m going to apply. My father doesn’t know.”
Her roommate and closest friend of nearly ten years shoots Fran a nervous glance. “What are you going to do when he finds out?”
Frustrated, Fan pushes the desk chair out and tug at the roots of her hair. “Goddamnit, Lottie, can’t you just be excited for me? I’m finally doing something I want to do and not caring about what anyone else thinks. Who’s side are you even on? You gonna call up my folks, let them know my plans, and have me shipped off to a refining school? Huh?”
“Calm down, Fran. It was just a question,” she sighs. “I’d never fink. Just thought you should consider what would happen. What are you writing?”
She gestures to the scraps littering the ground, and allows Charlotte to read one of her many drafts. She studies the words intently before darting out of the room, most likely to read it to a crowd of students and embarrass Fran. She likes to keep her writing a secret.
“Charlotte Tennant! Get back here!” Fran screeches, tearing after her.
The blonde’s giggles echo off the walls. “Help! I’m being chased by Agatha Christie!”
Cale narrowly avoids a collision with Charlotte as he rounds the corner, and Tyson can’t get out of the way fast enough. She runs right into her boyfriend’s chest, knocking them both over. After explaining why she was running and urging the rest of her friends to read the piece, everyone returns to Fran and Charlotte’s room for a study group. They insist Fran has to submit the very version Charlotte read, saying it was the best one. Fran lets them flatter her, and decides to drop it off in the morning. After all, Henley Hall is just down the road. The rest of the night is spent collaborating on Latin and laughing at Nate’s antics. When Nancy comes in to remind them of lights out, she finds all five teenagers huddled at the small window, looking out at the small flakes of snow that are falling.
“Look Nancy, it’s the first snowfall,” Charlotte says as she beckons her over.
The older woman smiles fondly at the group before nodding her head. “Beautiful isn’t it?” she muses. “Now, the boys better scurry out of here before they get caught.”
With a chorus of jovial goodbyes and plans to make a snowman tomorrow at break, they leave to avoid getting in trouble from their floor monitor. Fran and Charlotte tidy up before turning the light out, and both fall asleep feeling hopeful for what’s to come.
The next morning before classes start, Fran runs to Mr. Bednar’s office to get permission to visit Henley Hall at lunch. Welton requires staff permission for students to leave campus, but it doesn’t have to be from the headmaster. There’s no doubt in her mind that if she goes to Dr. Sakic he’ll alert her parents of Fran’s newfound extracurricular activity and it will be kiboshed before she can even begin. The beloved English teacher is enthusiastic in his approval, and kindly demands that Fran keeps him updated. She sits the rest of the morning with a mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling in her stomach.
As soon as the bell signifying lunch rings, Fran’s throat goes dry. What if her writing is terrible and the coordinator laughs in her face? She’s not sure she could handle the rejection.
“Don’t worry about it, Franny,” Tyson comforts. “They’d be stupid not to accept you.”
“You’re the best writer I’ve ever seen,” Cale chimes in.
Nate turns around and ruffles her hair. “Who’s F. Scott Fitzgerald? I only know Francesca Winters.”
The praise boosts her confidence, and by the time Fran waves them farewell at the gates she’s walking with her head up. As long as she gives it her best shot, Fran decides she’ll be happy with the results. The short walk is idyllic – freshly fallen snow coats the trees, and it doesn’t look as though anyone has driven down the road. Even Henley Hall looks nice. It’s smaller than Welton, and in Fran’s opinion uglier, but also has high academic standards for its students. From what she’s heard though, the staff members are kinder. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a terrible place to receive an education.
Once inside, Fran looks around aimlessly, trying to find a clue that would lead her in the direction of where she needs to go. A middle-aged woman, far younger than most of her teachers, approaches Fran with a kind smile. “Are you lost dear?” she asks, waiting patiently for a response.
“I’m afraid so,” Fran says, “Could you point me in the direction of Ms. Robertson’s office? I have a submission for her seminar to drop off.”
The woman laughs heartily, and it echoes slightly in the emptiness of the entryway. “You must be from Welton.” When Fran nods your head, she wraps an arm around the girl’s shoulder and begins walking. “I’m Ms. Robertson, and I’m pleased to say you’re the first from Welton to show any interest.”
Fran isn’t surprised by this. Headmaster Sakic assigns all extracurriculars, and she lets the teacher know this as she follows her. Ms. Robertson nods in understanding, but her lips are pursed in disapproval. It’s only then that Fran realizes Welton’s practices might not be as common as she once assumed.
The teacher’s office is tucked in behind her empty classroom, and Fran pauses to examine how she chose to decorate the space. Pictures of Walt Whitman line the walls, along with other notable poets. “I primarily teach poetry,” Ms. Robertson explains. Fran can’t help but think that she’s the Mr. Bednar of Henley, even though she hardly knows her. The teacher just exudes the same kind of energy.
Once inside, Fran tentatively hands her the paper – even though she seems friendly Fran is still nervous. She’s the first adult to read any of her creative writing.
“This is good. Really good,” Ms. Robertson praises. “You’re in.”
Fran is dumbfounded. Sure, there was a good chance she would have gotten in anyways because she isn't the world’s worst author, but to have someone other than her friends say she’s good at writing is affirming. “Th-thank you,” she stutters.
“No, thank you for bringing this to me. I can’t wait to see what else you’re capable of. The first meeting is on Monday, and when you come I need to see letters from your parents and Dr. Sakic saying you’re allowed to participate.”
Fuck. It slipped her mind that they might need permission from guardians. Fran will just have to figure something out, some way of getting around it. If her father ever found out she is doing something expressly against his orders he’d disown her. Oh well – now that she’s had a taste of success Fran is determined to see this through.
She explains that it won’t be a problem, and that she’s excited to be a part of this. After getting instructions on how to find the exit Fran leaves with a pep in her step. Once outside, she skips the entire way back to Welton.
☼☼☼☼
Somehow Fran manages to make it through nearly the entire weekend without someone bursting her bubble. It’s Sunday afternoon, and she’s planning how to forge the letter of permission from her father. She can’t risk sounding too youthful, but also doesn't want to appear too formal. Getting to work, Fran loads the typewriter and begins writing. Imitating her father is easier than she thought, and when Cale pokes his head through the open door she’s almost done.
“You coming to today’s meeting?” he asks, entering the room to sit at the foot of Fran’s bed.
She continues to clack at the keys of the machine. “Of course,” Fran replies. “Just need to finish this up.”
The pair of them sit in silence as she works, and a few minutes later Fran is placing the letter in an envelope. “Do you mind if we stop at Dr. Sakic’s office? I have to get a letter of permission from him.”
“Sure. How’d you get your father to say yes? He practically kicked you off the paper.” Cale’s question is legitimate, but surely he had to know Fran didn’t ask her father. That would have been an automatic rejection.
“I didn’t,” she sighs. “I wrote the letter myself. Sakic won’t call to double check with him. Besides, my parents live just too far away to want to make the trip here unless they have to.
Fran doesn’t miss the pointed look her friend gives. Cale’s a stickler for the rules, sure, but Fran knows he’s worried for her. If her father finds out she disrespected him like this, on top of not applying to any Ivy Leagues, she’ll be in a lot of trouble. Cale stays quiet while Fran chats with the headmaster, only offering a polite farewell. As the two of them walk to the cave to meet the others, he speaks.
“You better not get caught.”
The five words send chills down her spine. He’s right and Fran knows it. If she doesn't play her cards right it could end badly. Fran begins to regret her decision, but then she remembers how Mr. Bednar constantly encourages her classmates to be their people and do what they want. Whatever happens, she’ll never go back to living anything other than the life she wants to lead.
Conversation pivots when Fran doesn't respond, and the pair discuss what Tyson will bring to this week’s meeting. He’s tonight’s moderator and is known for picking obscure short stories to read after everyone has gotten through the assigned chapters. Cale bets nothing will be in English, and Fran can’t help but agree, because Tyson likes to expand everyone’s perceptions while being a little ridiculous. It’s good though – without him Fran would have a much harder time being exposed to new things. Between him and Mr. Bednar she’s doing a pretty good job learning about the world outside the traditional American viewpoint.
The meeting lasts a few hours, long enough for the sun to have disappeared and the moon to peak up from the shadows. The five of them have a grand time laughing and reading. Welton has a relatively relaxed weekend schedule, so Fran isn’t worried about being caught off school grounds. In fact, most of the staff members travel home if they can, leaving only essential personnel. Society meetings never fail to put Fran in a better mood, and she leaves feeling hopeful about the week to come. Besides, tomorrow she starts learning how to make her dreams a reality with the start of the writing seminar. When she bids everyone but Charlotte goodnight, pep returns to her step. The Brit sees it but chooses not to comment, secretly excited to see Fran unlock her potential.
☼☼☼☼
With the addition of Henley Hall’s writing seminar into Fran’s schedule, things change slightly. She manages to stay up-to-date on coursework, still excelling in all of her classes. What free time she has is now split between working on the rough draft of her novel and attending Society meetings with friends. It’s challenging at times, but there’s no other way she’d rather spend her last year of secondary school.
Mr. Bednar continues to provide thoughtful lessons that inspire. He is, by far, Fran’s favourite teacher at Welton, and she’s a tad upset she won’t get another year with him. It doesn’t matter much though, because Fran is positive he’ll stick with her for the rest of her life.
☼☼☼☼
December is approaching fast, and it’s now pitch black when Fran returns from Henley Hall. Other students are returning from their extracurricular endeavors or using the evening free time to play in the snow so at least she isn’t alone in the dark. As she approaches Welton’s dormitory wing Fran pushes her hands deeper into her pockets. It’s chilly – much colder than any other night this year. Just as she reaches to open the door, Fran hears sniffles from just around the corner. The culprit is a curly-haired brunette she could recognize from a mile away.
“Tys?”
He looks up, eyes brimmed with tears. Fran racks her mind to remember why he would be out so late, and she recalls Tyson saying there was an extra practice tonight before the tournament on the weekend. Despite how her joints seize from the cold, Fran drops to sit beside her friend. Tyson leans closer, resting his head on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?” she asks, pulling his much larger body closer to wrap in a tight hug.
“My parents don’t even care about me enough to send me an original birthday gift,” he chokes out. “The got me the same fucking desk set as last year.”
Her heart breaks for her friend. The Jost’s have always been detached, but this is an entirely new phenomenon for them. How could they not remember what they got their only son for his birthday last year? This is a whole new level of not caring. Fran had celebrated his special day at lunch with the rest of the group, and had plans to give Gwilym his gift after she got back from the seminar.
Hoping to find something to improve her friend’s mood, Fran stands and pulls him to his feet. “Well you know,” she says, tapping her fingers on her chin in faux thought. “This deskset looks extremely aerodynamic.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In fact, it looks like it was destined to fly.”
Tyson looks at her like she has three heads. “Go on,” Fran urges, “I present to you, Tyson Jost, the world’s first unmanned flying desk set.”
With a scream that verges on primal, Tyson throws the package over the edge of the walkway with fervor. The two of them watch as its contents spill onto the ground, both shocked he actually completed the task. A sideways glance at the boy standing beside her lets Fran know he feels better. They both head inside then, laughing once she remembers how Nate nearly singed his eyebrows off in chemistry earlier in the day. The rest of the night is surprisingly relaxed, with Fran making sure to properly celebrate her friend and catching up on the study hall she missed while at Henley. Nate is still working on that godforsaken radio, and his obsession with it is becoming concerning. He chimes in when something gets particularly interesting, but otherwise doesn’t say much, too concerned with rerouting the contraption’s cabinet wires.
The next morning, at the daily assembly, Dr. Sakic lets it be known that the first round of Ivy League acceptances have been released. A majority of Fran’s classmates have their names called, some of them multiple times, and her stomach sinks slightly. She isn’t upset that she didn’t apply. No, she’s upset because it means she’s going to have to start dodging the topic around her parents. None of Fran’s friends are mentioned, but that’s because they all have jobs lined up for after graduation.
As she shuffles out of the chapel, Mr. Pratt, the spry music teacher, pulls Fran aside. “There’s a call for you,” he explains. “It’s your parents. They’re on line three, so you can tell that to Sylvia.”
Fran’s hands shake and she climbs the stairs to the main office as slowly as possible. What could they possibly want? After repeating the information Mr. MacInnis told her, Fran is given a phone receiver with instructions to keep it under ten minutes.
“Hello?”
The deep boom of her father greets Fran’s ears. “Francesca,” he says, not nearly as cheery as she hoped he would sound. “I was speaking to some friends of mine and they informed me the first round of Ivy acceptance notices were released. Did you hear anything?”
She sucks in a breath, letting it burn her lungs. “I didn’t,” Fran admits. It isn’t technically a lie, but it also isn’t the whole truth. “Not many people did though. I’m sure they just haven’t gotten to my application yet.”
Her father lets out a noise that’s a mixture between a hum and a rumble. “With your grades I’m sure you’ll hear soon. Which did you apply to again? I’m not sure you ever told your mother and I.”
All the moisture leaves Fran’s throat. “All of them sir,” she croaks, praying he doesn’t catch her in the lie.
“That’s my girl. Bet you’ve got your eyes set on Harvard.”
“Of course sir.”
The phone call ends a few moments later when Fran hears the bell signalling the start of class. She’ll get a slip from the secretary to excuse her tardiness, but Fran doesn't want to listen to her father gloat about how she’ll be the first child in the family to attend a prestigious university for another second. After saying goodbye Fran is left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Eventually he’s going to find out, and she isn't sure what will happen then.
By the time the weekend rolls around Fran is exhausted. Though she’s handling everything well, sleep is pretty far down the list of priorities and she definitely isn't getting enough of it. She sleeps well into the morning, only being woken up when Charlotte whacks her with a pillow.
“Get up you lame duck, we have to be at the cave in fifteen minutes.”
Fran groans, a strangled sound that bounces off the furniture. “Can I just skip this one meeting?” she asks. “I’ll attend the next six in a row.”
Charlotte sees right through the ruse. “Fran, we attend every meeting,” she sighs. “Besides, you’re the moderator today. What kind of meeting will it be if you don’t show up?”
Begrudgingly, Fran shuffles out of bed. With help from Charlotte, who tidies her space while she gets ready, the pair are only a few minutes late. Had she been by herself it would have been well over thirty minutes before Fran made an appearance.
Everyone else is already there, smoking the pipes Nate smuggled from his father’s collection the last time he visited home. “Look who finally decided to show up,” Tyson quips, coughing as he exhales.
“Shut the fuck up, Jost,” Fran huffs, stepping over the boy to sit in her regular seat, only to find it occupied.
A girl she’s never seen before is sitting beside Nate, gripping his arm excitedly and hanging on every word he says. The sight makes her stomach twist into an intricate knot, and looking at the two of them cuddled against one another makes Fran realize her feelings towards Nate might not be strictly platonic for the second time in their relationship. She shoots a questioning glance at Tyson, who just shrugs. On the other side of him, Cale’s got a girl with strawberry blonde hair perched on his lap. Neither of them look like they attend Welton or Henley, as they’re dressed very casually, in clothing that would never pass inspection at the boarding schools.
“Oh! Am I sitting in your seat?” Nate’s girl asks. “Nathan said it was alright.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Fran grits, turning her attention to the tall boy who strives to make her life as difficult as possible. “Want to tell me what this is about MacKinnon? You’ve got a lot of gall co-opting my meeting.”
Nate stands dramatically, tossing his scarf over his shoulder and getting giggles from the newcomers. “This,” he begins, “is my attempt at breaking down the barriers between public and private schools. Marjorie and Annabelle are from Ridgeway High, and Cale and I thought they might like to see what life at Hell-ton was really like.”
“Plus,” the one Fran assumes is Annabelle says, “We might be joining The Society.”
The comment causes quite the upheaval among the group. Tyson stands up immediately, furious with both Nate and Cale. “You didn’t think to let us know?” He seethes, arms failing as he speaks, and Fran feels a little smug that he’s defending her meeting with such fervor.
Charlotte stands gingerly beside him, guiding him to sit back down. “Tys is right, boys,” she says gently, ever the peacekeeper. “You should have brought this up beforehand. We can’t have anyone really knowing of this little club we have going on.”
The other one, Cale’s current object of affection, goes to speak but Fran cuts her off. “Please don’t say you won’t tell,” she sighs, “Because there are a million other ways it could get out. And I for one don’t want my father to pull me out of Welton and ship me off to refinery school because he found out I was reading unauthorized books.”
Everyone agrees with her. It’s agreed upon that the girls will leave after the meeting and never return. They’re to pretend as though they have never met a single member of the Society, regardless of how friendly they’ve become with Cale and Nate. The boys look sad, but Fran can’t find it in her to be sorry for them. Adding members was never discussed, and the two boys most certainly shouldn’t have been so reckless. Word travels fast in the real world.
After the sudden housekeeping issue Fran leads one of the funnest society meetings yet. Ignoring the framework the group had originally set, no chapters of a published book are read. Instead, each member takes turns coming up with bits of prose on the fly. Eventually the girls get tired of the group’s antics and leave, once again swearing they won’t tell anyone. The five original members continue on for a while longer, making sure to head back to campus early. Tonight the kitchen staff are serving spaghetti and meatballs, and Fran will be damned if she misses out.
Fran awakes the next morning to find that all students are to report to the auditorium for an emergency meeting. A throng of tired teenagers follow the much more alert group of young kids. She shuffles into a row of seats with Charlotte and tries to search for the boys. Due to the suddenness of everything, the roommates couldn’t meet up with them, and find the spots they would usually sit quickly occupied. It doesn’t matter much though because if any of them were caught talking there would be serious repercussions.
“Good morning everyone,” Headmaster Sakic addresses the crowd. “It was brought to my attention yesterday evening that there is an unauthorized club of sorts here at Welton. Known as the Society for Banned and Burned Books, its sole purpose is to disobey the rules and curriculum. Anyone who knows about it or is associated with it is to report to my office immediately and turn themselves in. A thorough investigation will be conducted, so it is advised you heed this warning carefully.”
“Those fucking bitches,” Fran seethes. “I’m going to murder Nate.”
Though just as pissed off as her friend, Charlotte handles her emotions with much more grace. “Relax Fran, and don’t go doing anything stupid. We just have to think about what we’re going to do next.”
Fran knows exactly what she’s going to do. The next time she sees Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar she’s going to punch them in the teeth. Somehow Charlotte talks her down, but she’s still irate. How dare they be so careless? Fran spends the rest of the day ignoring them. No one goes to turn themselves in to Dr. Sakic, but she almost does it out of spite so she can implicate Cale and Nate. Fran decides against it of course, knowing it would only hurt her, but she’s definitely going to spend the next few days thinking of how to get them back.
It turns out she doesn’t have to find a way to make them feel bad about their actions. Mr. Bednar comes and finds them in the afternoon and expresses his disappointment in them. After a short lecture on how they put their friends, and themselves, at risk, the teacher leaves them to reflect on how to apologize. They show up on the girl’s dormitory floor later in the evening with a plate of cookies.
“The chef supervised us in the kitchen,” Cale explains. “We’re really sorry. It was dumb of us to invite those girls. Will you be able to forgive us?”
Nate nods, tacking his own statement on to the end of his friend’s. “We never wanted to put you guys in danger, especially you Fran. I don’t want anything to get in the way of those fancy author dreams of yours.”
Fran blushes at the comment, but lets them come inside. Their apology is sincere, and all is forgiven with laughs over milk and chocolate cookies. Nothing comes of Dr. Sakic’s threat in the coming days, so clearly the investigation was not thorough. Perhaps the girls were better at keeping their mouths shut than Fran previously thought. Wanting to still play it safe, the group decides to not host any more meetings until after the holiday break.
☼☼☼☼
It’s a lonely break for Fran, spent mostly alone in her bedroom. At every opportunity her father is boasting about her academic achievements to anyone who will listen through the various holiday parties he corrals the rest of the family to. The whole town seems quite impressed that Fran is poised to attend an Ivy League, though it’s a ruse. No one knows that of course, and they all except she’ll be making an announcement on which school she’ll attend shortly. The holidays pass slowly, and Fran eats more than her fair share of mashed potatoes and gravy. Since her father must still work throughout her time at home, Fran is left to her own devices throughout the day. Though her mother loves Fran she’s docile, and often doesn’t talk to Fran unless she has to.
Fran spends an enormous amount of time writing. When she returns to school there’s only three weeks before she has to turn in the first draft of her novel. Hours are spent crafting scenes in painstaking detail – writing and rewriting until she’s happy with the quality of her work. At night Fran plays board games with her family, and makes up lies for her father’s questions. He’s becoming more creative, asking ones that demand specific answers. However she’s able to manage, mostly thanks to Cale’s insane wealth of knowledge on countless educational institutions. Without him she’d be lost at sea.
She’s extremely happy to be back at Welton, so much so she rushes ahead of her parents, not heeding her father’s warnings. Once sequestered into the auditorium, Fran tries to get permission to sit with Charlotte, but is immediately rejected.
“Sir, why can’t I? Other students are sitting together,” she states, and the glare you receive from her father could pierce a soul.
“After the stunt you just pulled?” he grits. “You’re lucky I don’t wheel you out of here and take you home. You will sit beside us. That’s final.”
The call of his name has him put his focus elsewhere, and Fran’s mother gives her a sympathetic smile. “He means well, dear,” she says. “After all, your father is right. We have certain appearances we must keep up since we aren’t of such high status.”
Before Fran can try and make a rebuttal, the procession enters the auditorium. Headed by her three male best friends and Tyson’s roommate Ryan, who have been tasked with carrying the banners, the teaching and administrative staff shuffle into the room. It’s silent – everyone not-so-patiently waiting for this assembly to be over. Undoubtedly Fran’s least favourite part of attending Welton, the term's opening assemblies are extremely dull and have made her consider leaving on multiple occasions.
“Welcome back to another term at Welton,” Dr. Sakic preaches. “We’ll be sure to have an excellent time. Now students, I must ask you the most pertinent of questions, one that’s asked at the start of every academic season. What are the four pillars?”
The voices of hundreds of children mingle together. “Tradition, honour, discipline, excellence,” Fran mumbles, slouching slightly. A swift nudge to the ribs from her father has her standing straighter than a board. She cannot wait to be rid of him.
After what feels like two hours of listening to Dr. Sakic and other distinguished staff members speak, everyone is finally allowed to leave. Bidding her parents a quick farewell, Fran clambers up the stairs to reach her room before Charlotte. Though she loves her dearly and the blonde never fails to lift your spirits, Fran needs alone time to quickly cry. It seems no matter what she does she’ll always be a disappointment to her father. The only thing he attributes to her is receiving acceptance to a prestigious school, and she refuses to give him that.
The reunion between the group of friends is much more relaxed this time around. Everyone had only been separated for a few weeks, not months. There’s still a small level of dramatics of course. When Nate sees Fran in the hallway he tackles her to the ground in a hug.
“Nathan, get off of me!” she squeaks, words punctuated by giggles. No one seems to notice, too caught up in their own reunions and settling in for another term, but Fran catches the way his eyes soften when he looks at her and it causes heat to rise to the top of her skin. She thought the weeks spent apart would help her silly crush go away, but it’s reared its head in full force and Fran doesn’t know what to do about it.
“Never,” he shouts, dragging Fran to her feet and sequestering her up the stairs. When they arrive in his dorm room, the rest of the group is already there. Details of holidays are shared, as are hopes for the school semester. It’s their final one at Welton, and Fran wants to make it count.
In just over five months she’ll graduate, leaving behind every comfort she’s known for the past six years. “Hell-ton has been our home for so long,” Fran sighs as she rests her head on Tyson’s shoulder. “What are we going to do once we’re gone?”
“Do whatever the fuck we want without teachers breathing down our necks.”
He has a point. For so long they’ve all been forced to act in a certain way that it will be nice to do as one pleases.
Charlotte hums in agreement, standing to stretch her legs. “Come on Fran, we should get back to our room. You’ve got to finish writing that one scene.”
Begrudgingly she untangles herself from Nate’s covers. She’s right, but Fran would rather not think about it. “Char, it’s killing me,” she whines. “Can I just not think about it for a while?”
She carefully reminds her of your deadline, and it’s enough to have Fran bounding down the flight of stairs. She really does need to get to work. The rest of the night has her stooping over her typewriter, clicking at the keys incessantly. By the time she falls asleep Fran has finished the scene and written at least three more, pushing her even closer to the finish line.
She finishes her draft a few days early, and hands it to Ms. Robertson after the workshop one night. She’s thoroughly impressed and is sure to let Fran know. The girl preens under her compliments, sure to downplay how happy she truly is. When she lets Mr. Bednar read the corrected version, he too showers Fran in praise.
“This is phenomenal, Miss Winters.”
Once again Fran is blushing, cheeks feeling much too warm for the cold winter afternoon. “Thank you Captain. It isn’t much though,” she says softly.
“Nonsense. It’s a masterpiece. Do you think I could commission you to bind me my own copy once it’s finished? I’d love to have it on my shelves.”
Fran is dumbfounded. “You want a copy of my book? But you read the greats like Twain and Fitzgerald!”
“You’re destined to be one of them, and I want to commemorate it.”
It’s then that she invites him to the final workshop in a few months' time. All participants will have their finished published works, and will take turns reading excerpts and answering questions. It’s supposed to be a mock book signing, and Fran is beyond excited. There’s nothing she wants more than for him to be there.
☼☼☼☼
Life begins to pick up speed, and Fran feels as though she’s running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Between academics, licensed extracurriculars, and society meetings she barely has enough time to sleep. It’s exhausting, but Fran feels completely satisfied. Not everyone gets the same experiences she’s been afforded, and she’s determined to make the most of it.
Mr. Bednar’s classes are still her favourite. This term the class is focussing on poetry, since the prose units were completed before the break, and every day Fran craves more. She finally learns the origin of the nickname ‘Captain’ with the reading of a particular poem, and everyone in the class increases their use of the term exponentially. Classes are spent reciting giants like Whitman and Frost, but also so-called ‘beat poets’ like Ginsberg and Kerouac. It’s easy to lose the stresses of life in their fantasies, and Fran always feels lighter when she leaves the room.
Some of her favourite lessons of the year have happened recently – namely the one on perspective. Ever the revolutionary, Mr. Bednar had everyone take turns standing on his desk, surveying the room before jumping down. A handful of students didn’t understand, but Fran found it incredibly eye-opening. Suddenly she understands why writing is so powerful – it can mean a million different things to a thousand people.
The Society for Banned and Burned Books starts to become less structured, and truthfully Fran doesn't mind. Most of the time everyone sits in the cave and discusses the ideas Mr. Bednar plants in their heads. Not many books are being read, but she’s glad. They were beginning to become a bit dull and the group was running out of titles – authors are being much more careful these days so as not to offend governing bodies. No matter what lens the club has taken, Fran is glad it exists. She’s spent countless hours fooling around with her dearest friends while enriching their minds. What more could she ask for?
Her novel is coming along swell. It passed the first and second revisions with flying colours and is now off at the printers. When Fran asks if she can print two copies, and that she doesn't mind paying the extra, Ms. Robertson is shocked.
“There’s no way you’re footing that bill! Especially because you’re giving it to someone,” she says, putting a cork in the matter. “Mr. Bednar will be delighted.”
The young mentor knows of Fran’s beloved English teacher, and is touched that she wants to do something so special for him. No one else in the group is as excited as Fran. Most of them are involved simply to pass the time or stand out on college applications, but not her. Fran is in the seminar because her soul yearns to write and she’d be a fool to deny its wishes. Writing is what she wants to do for the rest of her life, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t seriously pursue it.
☼☼☼☼
The day Fran gets her book back from the publishing house, the final round of Ivy League admissions is sent out. Her name is, of course, not on it. However, Ms. Robertson got in touch with a friend who teaches at Bryn Mawr college, and they’ve extended an offer into their creative writing program. Fran is delighted, and accepts almost immediately. The school is prestigious enough that hopefully her father can overlook the fact it’s not an Ivy.
Life goes as usual, with the day passing slowly. Tonight is the first time she’ll get to see her finished work, and will prepare for the showcase tomorrow night. She’s ecstatic, practically bouncing off the walls the entire day.
“Slow down,” Cale huffs, trying desperately to keep up with the jovial pace Fran has set.
She turns around to flash him the biggest smile she’s ever mustered. “I simply cannot, my dearest Cale, because I’m now a published author. My joy knows no limits.”
“You better not get a big head and a terrible ego,” Nate pipes in, joining the both of them in walking to the willow by the lake. He ruffles Fran’s hair and she swats his arm away.
“Shut up!”
The three of them join the other members of the group, who were able to weave through the crowds faster to claim the best spot on the grounds. Everyone spends the break joking around and chattering about tomorrow night. They’ll all be in attendance, along with Mr. Bednar. Somehow Fran has managed to keep her admittance to the seminar a secret to anyone outside of Welton and she’s quite proud of herself.
At Henley Hall, she feels electric. Seeing words that she wrote on a page, bound in leather, puts butterflies in her stomach. For possibly the first time in her life Fran feels like she’s on the right path. Reading a piece of the story out loud is exhilarating, and she can’t wait to see how the crowd responds. The question and answer section allows her to really delve into the creative process, immersing audience members in the story even more. It’s an evening spent having the time of her life, but something feels the tiniest bit off. Fran’s brain tells her something is going to go wrong when she returns to Welton.
How right she was. When she finally reaches her dormitory floor after swimming against the current of hungry teenagers, Charlotte is standing anxiously at the end of the hall.
“Your father is inside our room, and he looks absolutely peeved,” she whispers, hugging Fran tightly before running to join the others downstairs. If she’s caught loitering, detention will be her home for the next few weeks.
Taking a deep breath, Fran does her best to mask her anxiety before stepping into the room. He’s sitting at her desk, tapping his foot impatiently, and sporting a grimace that makes Fran’s stomach contract.
“Father, what are you doing here?”
It’s a dumb question – she knows exactly why he’s here. Her father doesn’t buy the weak question and chooses to ignore it completely.
“How dare you,” he broods, “Defy me and then lie about it?”
There’s no beating around the bush tonight, and Fran wishes she could be anywhere but here. “Sir, I can explain –”
“There’s nothing to explain! You made me look like a fool, telling everyone in town that my daughter, my Francesca, was going to attend an Ivy and study to become the best legal secretary in the goddamn county. That she had the pick of litter and would choose whichever offered her the biggest scholarship. Do you know how I stupid I look?”
Tears prick at the corner of Fran’s eyes, but she will them away. “Father, please,” she whispers, trying to stay strong but her voice betrays how she truly feels.
He doesn’t let up, continuing the rather one-sided argument. “And then I hear from old Mrs. Perkins that her granddaughter is coaching you in a writing seminar at Henley Hall? I told her she must have confused you with someone else because writing is a waste of time. She was incessant, and showed me the letter her granddaughter had mailed her, detailing how wonderful your novel was and she was so excited to get you a spot in a creative program at a women’s college. I was appalled.”
Now is the one chance Fran has to defend herself. “I never wanted to attend an Ivy, Sir,” she tries to explain as calmly as possible. “That’s what you wanted for me. Bryn Mawr is just as prestigious, one of the Seven Sisters. I’ll be happier there, doing what I love. I want to be a writer, Father.”
“Nonsense, Francesca. You’re seventeen, you don’t know what the hell you want.”
It goes like that, back and forth, for a while as she tries to make her father see reason. He isn’t having any of it.
“Did that new teacher, Mr. Bednar, put you up to this?”
Where her father got that notion Fran isn’t sure. “Of course not, Sir,” she exclaims, “I’m simply doing what’s best for myself.”
“What is best for yourself, huh?” he seethes. “You don’t know what’s best for you, but I’ll tell you. You’re going to drop out of the little writing program and tell Bryn Mawr you’re reneging your acceptance. Next fall you can apply for Harvard.”
Fran tries to explain to him that she can’t do what he’s ordering, that the signing is tomorrow night and they’re counting on her to be there. Her father simply does not care and after screaming at Fran some more leaves her dorm room in a flurry of anger, slamming the door behind him.
As if she is Atlas and the weight of the world has crushed Fran, she curls into a ball on her bed and sobs in pain. She’s absolutely heartbroken. Why can’t he just let her do what she wants? Too tired to eat, Fran stays in her room and eventually cries herself into a fitful sleep.
Fran is in the same position hours later when her friends peek through the door to check in. Without a word, the four of them surround her in a group hug. Nate’s hands find a way to her back and rub soothing circles in an attempt to calm Fran down. It helps slightly, and she eventually gets the sniffles to stop. No one speaks, but it’s comforting for Fran to not be alone. She knows that when she does want to talk about what happened they’ll be there with open ears.
At the urging of Tyson and Charlotte, Fran travels to the teachers’ quarters and knocks timidly at Mr. Bednar’s door. “Come in,” he says breezily, and she carefully steps around the pile of worn novels on the floor.
“Captain, I’m really sorry to bother you,” she says earnestly, “But I really could use some advice.”
He ushers her to sit down, and pours a cup of tea that he sets gently in Fran’s hands. She explains the entire situation, sparing no detail. Any memory that vaguely relates to her terse parental relations is also brought into the mix – if this man is going to know anything, he’s going to know everything. The conversation then moves into how much Fran loves writing, and how she feels as though she’s nothing without it. Mr. Bednar sits quietly and nods as she talks, not speaking until Fran winds herself.
“Can you tell him what you just told me?” he asks, leaning over to refill her cup and pass the sugar.
Fran scoffs, though the tears threatening to spill after sharing her heart show that she isn’t as aloof as she hopes to be. “Absolutely not. I can’t talk to him like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t see me as a person! To him I’m just a canvas he can project his dreams onto. There’s nothing I could say to make him see that he doesn’t always know what’s best for me.”
The room goes quiet. It isn’t uncomfortable, but Fran is waiting for the older man to speak again. Mr. Bednar stands and walks to the small window beside his desk. “I think you should try,” he theorizes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says confidently. “If you tell him everything you just told me, your father will see the passion you have for writing, and will let you stay enrolled in both the workshop and Bryn Mawr.”
She stays with the teacher a little while longer, discussing poetry and prose. It’s nice to talk to someone without them having preconceived notions of how she’s meant to behave and who she’s supposed to become. When Fran walks back to her dormitory she still doesn't feel as light as she hoped. There’s absolutely no way she can try and convince her father to let you stick with writing. Fran’s only hope is to disobey his direct orders. If memory serves her correctly, Fran’s father will be leaving for a three day business trip to Chicago in the morning. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.
The rest of the night is spent with her friends doing everything in their power to keep Fran’s mind off the situation. At the suggestion of Cale, everyone dresses in their robes and sneaks to the cave, having an impromptu Society meeting. It’s nothing serious or official, just the group telling ghost stories and poking fun at each other.
After an hour or so of enjoying each others’ company, Nate abruptly stands. “I think everyone knows what time it is,” he grins.
Everyone else looks at him as if he has three heads, but then Tyson suddenly remembers something and joins the taller boy in towering over the group. He then turns around to pick up a small bundle of mangled wires and boxes and passes it to Nate. “I present to you all our now fully functional backyard radio!”
“Holy shit, you fucking did it,” Cale exclaims, profusely shocked. Charlotte just lets her jaw drop open in astonishment. Fran is speechless too, unable to believe her friends were actually able to pull their crazy invention scheme off.
No one speaks for a few beats, astounded, but Charlotte breaks the silence. “Well, are you going to turn it on you tossers?”
After a speedy setup that doesn’t look particularly safe, Nate sticks the antenna out the hole in the cave’s roof while Tyson fiddles with the dials. It takes a second, but soon enough music flits through the speaker. The voice of Elvis Presley meets everyone’s ears and Fran’s foot involuntarily taps along to the beat. Laughter and shouts of encouragement echo off the stones until it’s so loud she can no longer hear the music. No one seems to care, and Cale doesn’t refuse when Fran grabs his hand and invites him to dance. At some point Nate sweeps her into his arms to do a ridiculous step pattern, and Fran giggles loudly at the gesture. Despite everything that happened earlier in the evening, she ends the night feeling genuinely happy.
☼☼☼☼
There’s about ten minutes until Fran has to leave for Henley Hall. Charlotte has her practically tied to the desk chair and is in the process of taking the rollers out of Fran’s hair. Honestly, Fran doesn't care too much about her appearance since the event is nothing official, but her best friend insists she look the part of a glamorous novelist.
“Stop moving your bloody head,” the blonde grumbles.
“Sorry Lottie,” she apologizes sincerely. “Just a little antsy.”
It isn’t a lie. Fran has been a jittery mess all day. Not one of the lessons given stuck in her brain, and her left knee has been constantly bouncing.
Charlotte places her hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “I know darling.”
She gets back to work setting the curls, and Fran takes a second to look at herself in her small desk mirror. Charlotte has completed the seemingly impossible task of making her look elegant – painting her lips a beautiful cherry red and ironing the prettiest dress in their combined closets so there wouldn’t be any misplaced creases. A few spritzes of hairspray and she’s done, letting Fran stand up to see the finished product for the first time.
She looks herself up and down, trying to recognize the person staring back at her. It isn’t that she looks like a completely different person. In fact, Fran looks like a more sophisticated, well travelled version of a seventeen year old. She can picture herself employing Charlotte to help her get ready before any other major event she might have in the future – perhaps she’d prefer styling to nursing.
Before Fran can say anything a low whistle comes from the doorway. “You sure clean up nice, Francesca,” Nate grins, using the girl’s full name in an attempt to make her squirm.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, MacKinnon,” she says, walking breezily over to him and straightening out his bowtie. Everyone in the group is travelling to Henley in Mr. Bednar’s car. The audience doesn’t need to be there for nearly forty-five minutes after the call time, but Fran’s entourage wants to get good seats.
The other boys round the corner then, and compliment her profusely. It makes Fran blush, if only because they’re being uncharacteristically sincere. No comedic jabs follow, and she feels incredibly loved. The four of them sit patiently while Charlotte finishes her makeup, chatting amongst themselves. As soon as she’s done the door is shut quietly and the group tomps down the stairs to meet their teacher in the lobby.
“Looking sharp, kids,” Mr. Bednar exclaims jovially. “Like proper literature enthusiasts. Shall we go?”
Henley Hall isn’t a far walk, perhaps ten minutes, but riding in the back of her teacher’s car makes Fran feel important. He makes pleasant small talk with Charlotte and shares crude jokes with the boys, but asks Fran an earnest question.
“Did you tell your father what you told me Fran?”
She gulps. Of course she hadn’t called her father, not wanting to make matters worse. “I did, this morning,” she stutters. “He won’t be able to attend though, left for Chicago as I called. I think he’s going to let me stick with it.”
In the rearview mirror Mr. Bednar smiles brightly. “Glad to hear it.”
After parking the car out front of the building, the group walks into the theatre together, and Fran leaves them to slip backstage. No one else is, unsurprisingly, in the audience, but they’re more than content talking amongst themselves.
Ms. Robertson quickly goes over the speaking order and answers everyone’s questions before allowing time to practice answering questions one last time. It’s fun for Fran to chat with her fellow writers, who over the past few months have become friends, and hang out with them one last time. No one else from Welton ever joined, making her the lone outsider, but they took her in with open arms. It will be sad to leave them, though once she leaves for Bryn Mawr – if her father allows her to stay enrolled – some of the girls will be joining you.
A quick glance at the clock lets Fran know it’s go time. At the cue of the stage manager, she and the other participants file onto the stage. The one nice thing is that she isn’t out there alone and can lean on the support of her fellow creatives if need be.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to our annual Writer’s Showcase,” Ms. Robertson announces. Applause and cheers erupt from the crowd, with Fran’s little group making the most noise. She waves shyly and sits down, awaiting the prompt to begin speaking. When it’s finally her turn it takes a second for Fran to gain her voice, so petrified that something will go wrong, she mumbles the first few words of her introduction. After a second she’s fine, and continues speaking with ease and zeal.
Presenting her work to everyone important to her is the best moment of Fran’s entire life. The entire audience is on the edge of their seat, hanging off her every word. It’s empowering – for the first time in her life Fran feels special. She reads a short passage to much acclaim, ending with a deafening roar of applause. A broad smile finds its way onto her features and it seems as though it will be permanent.
The rest of the students finish their readings and the group move on to the question and answer section. This exercise is open, but each participant gets the same number of questions so as not to upstage anyone. However, it’s clear that Fran is the one most people are interested in. She ponders the questions and gives thoughtful answers. After a particularly tricky one, she hears Cale shout encouragement in her direction.
“That’s it Fran!” he yells through cupped hands, adding a whistle for extra effect. Her other friends join in, and soon so has the entire auditorium. Fran stands up and awkwardly bows before allowing another person to answer a question.
Everything is going well until she watches her father slip through the doors. He’s wearing a wicked scowl and has his brows knitted together. Whatever is about to happen won’t be pretty. Instead of causing a scene, he perches against the back wall and folds his arms over his chest. Fran gulps. Jeremy, the last boy to answer a question, finishes up. Everyone stands and bows, but she’s in such a daze that she has to be pulled up by those on either side of her. The noise is overwhelming and Fran is beginning to find it hard to breathe. As soon as it’s possible, she darts off the stage and out of view.
“Fran? What’s wrong?” Ms. Robertson asks, concern lacing her voice.
“Nothing,” she lies through her teeth. “Just a little overwhelmed by it all.”
She smiles and wraps her arms around Fran’s shoulder in a hug. “I know. Come on, let’s go celebrate.” Much to her chagrin, Fran is pulled into the crowd of people waiting to see their loved ones in the lobby. Sifting through the mass, she tries her hardest to find her friends before her father finds where she is. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.
“Francesca,” he shouts, reaching through the crowd to grab Fran by the wrist. “We’re going home right this minute.”
“But I have to return to Welton, Sir,” she protests.
Fran’s father sends her a look that could turn Medusa to stone. “Car. Now.”
It’s a hassle to keep up with his blistering pace, but Fran knows things will be worse if she keeps him waiting. The walls seem to cave in around her and tears flow without regard to who could see. Fran is legitimately terrified.
She hears her name being called as she reaches the door. Charlotte spots her and ducks under a man’s arm to catch up. Fran shoots her a warning look but she either doesn’t see it or pays it no mind. The rest of the group follows her. Too scared to look at them, Fran remains mute as they call out to her.
“That was simply wonderful, Miss Winters,” Mr. Bednar exclaims. “You’ve got a real talent for writing.” Fran blushes at his words, and hopes it conveys how much they mean to her.
Knowing this is probably going to be her only chance, Fran shoves the copy of her novel into the teacher’s chest. It’s got his initials embossed on the front cover and includes a handwritten dedication explaining how much his encouragement means to her. “Take this,” Fran mumbles, unable to look him or her friends in the eye.
Her father doesn’t miss the interaction. “Get in the car,” he orders. Fran follows the directions and presses your face against the glass, worried for her teacher. When he wants to, her father can unleash his wicked temper with unyielding cruelty.
“Stay away from my daughter, Bednar,” he seethes, grabbing the other man by the collar of his sweater. “You’re the one that put her up to all this nonsense.”
“He didn’t!” Nate protests, preparing to give Fran’s father a piece of his mind but Mr. Bednar stops him.
“That’s enough, Nathan, we don’t need to make it worse.”
With nothing else to say, Fran’s father storms to his side of the vehicle and slams the door. Turning the engine on rather aggressively he zips out the parking lot, leaving Fran to stare out the back window and watch her friends shrink and disappear. It’s so tense the air between the two of them could be cut with a dull kitchen knife. The silence is deafening and Fran wishes he’d just start screaming now to get it over with. Instead, he doesn’t speak or look at her, focussing on the road ahead of him. Though she doesn't live terribly far from Welton and Henley, the ride is long enough to spike Fran’s anxiety.
Fran’s mother is standing on the porch when the car pulls into the driveway. She pushes off the column to meet her family at the car, but stops in her tracks when her husband breezes past her. Fran hasn't even had time to open the passenger door.
“Conrad,” her mother sighs, following him into the house and trying to calm him down.
“No, Barbra, she’s gone too far this time.”
If driving away wouldn’t make it worse, Fran would be halfway to Welton by now. Her father had taught her to drive in the evenings during the summer, and it’s late enough that no police would be patrolling. Besides, if she told them the truth they might let her off the hook.
Instead, she rises out of the car with shaking knees. The front door is still open, so Fran slinks through and shuts it quietly. In the office beside the entryway her parents are arguing, though it’s mostly her father doing the talking. He often overpowers her mom and she’s too fragile to speak up for herself. That door is open too, which Fran finds strange. Normally their arguments happen in private.
“Come in,” her father says gruffly.
Fran enters cautiously, not knowing what to expect. Considering he almost assaulted her English teacher it probably won’t be very good. The chair directly across from her father is open, and she sinks into it, refusing to meet his gaze. Across the room her mother is perched delicately on the edge of the desk, chain smoking cigarettes and twirling the pearls of her necklace around her thumb.
“We’re trying very hard to understand why you insist on defying us, defying me.” His voice is eerily calm, and truthfully that upsets Fran more than if he were to scream at her. “And though I suspect that no good, idyllic teacher is behind it, we aren’t going to let you ruin your life. You’ll no longer be attending Welton. Starting first thing in the morning you’ll be enrolled at Balthasar’s Refining Academy, where you’ll finish the year and study to become a legal secretary.”
“But Father, that’s a lifetime of unhappiness,” Fran protests. “I don’t want to be a secretary.”
“Well that’s too fucking bad!” he screeches. “Because that’s what you’re going to be. It’s not a death sentence.”
Her mother says nothing, just sits and stares blankly. Fran can tell she’s afraid of him, her father, but won’t ever leave. That’s simply not the way things work.
“You don’t understand, Francesca” he continues, “You have opportunities your mother and I could never have even dreamt of. I can’t let you waste them.” With a sharp turn on his heel he faces the window, his back to Fran signaling the conversation is finished.
Adrenaline courses through her veins, and Fran seizes the only opportunity shemight ever get to tell her father how she truly feels. “I need you to know what I feel!”
Not appreciating the young girl’s challenge to his authority, Fran’s father turns on her with a wicked gleam in his eye. “What is it that you feel?” he snarls. “What is it!”
Facing him diminishes her newfound confidence. There’s no doubt he’ll pick the argument apart, berate her for having aspirations based on passion instead of security. It’s a fight Fran won’t win, so she backs down entirely.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“It’s nothing,” she whispers.
A triumphant smirk appears on her father’s face. “That settles it then,” he exclaims, and promptly strides out of the room to get ready for bed.
Fran falls back in the armchair feeling incredibly defeated. Tears begin to fall, and soon sobs are wracking her body. In an effort to be of some comfort her mother places a hand on her shoulder, but it doesn’t help. She’s just as much to blame for Fran’s sorrow as he is.
“I was really good out there. I truly felt happy for the first time.” Fran’s voice breaks as she speaks, unable to continue for fear of breaking down completely.
Her mother stands and finishes the rest of her cigarette in a single drag. “It’s been a long night, let’s get some sleep.”
There’s no way Fran will be able to sleep. The events of the past few hours replay in her head on a loop, and she tries to find things she could have done that would have made the outcome different. She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her friends or Mr. Bednar, and that’s what stings the most.
She stares at the ceiling for a few hours, and when that doesn’t settle anything Fran gets out of bed to stare out the window. The night looks peaceful and quiet, unlike the sea of sadness swimming in her soul. In an attempt to find a solution to the swirling of her mind, she opens the window and allows the air to flow in. It’s warm, a tad bit sticky for April, but it calms her down for a split second. There’s a moment when Fran feels free, when the moonlight hits her skin just right and she’s glistening like Selene herself, before the weight of everything settles on her shoulders again. Fran is unhappy, and she will be unhappy for the rest of her life.
There’s only one thing left for her to do.
She slips into actual clothes and grabs a jacket from the small wardrobe in the corner of her room. Propping open the window with a piece of wood she found on the floor – her parents are in the middle of remodelling the house – and slipping on shoes, Fran looks around the room for a final time. If she plays her cards right, this will be the last time she’s ever in the building.
Carefully, Fran slips out the window and perches on the large branch. It’s strong enough to hold her weight if she wanted to close the window, but she doesn’t bother to hide the escape from her parents. They’ll know as soon as they wake up anyways. She quickly scurries down to ground level and takes off without a look over her shoulder. Sprinting as fast as she can, Fran makes it down the road and into the nearby village rather fast. The darkness of the night covers her tracks, and besides, no one is out at this time anyways.
There’s a payphone on the corner across from the post office, and Fran steps into the booth as soon as she possibly can. Her hands shake as she picks up the receiver. Thankfully the telephone operators won’t be able to tell who she is and alert her parents, since Fran’s calling from a public line.
“Operator,” the woman says flatly.
“Hello,” Fran rushes the introduction, skipping over a few formalities. “I need to speak to Mr. Jared Bednar of Welton Academy.”
With an unamused grunt the operator switches the phone over to his line. The dial tone begins to ring, and Fran feels anxiety settle into her bones. What if he decides not to help?
“Who is calling at such an ungodly hour?” he yawns, and she feels bad for waking him.
“Mr. Bednar, I ran away from home,” Fran cries, finally allowing tears to escape and too upset to use the nickname she often calls him by. “Can you come pick me up?”
His response is immediate. “Of course, child. Where are you?”
She explains to him where she is and, after promising not to move, hangs up. There’s a bench beside the phone booth, so Fran sits patiently and waits for the teacher to arrive. The wind no longer feels warm, and she curls the light jacket she brought tighter around her shoulders. Thankfully, no one approaches her while she sits alone. Fran is in a very precarious situation, and doesn't know how she would survive a kidnapping attempt.
Mr. Bednar’s car pulls up alongside the curb and he jumps up before the gearshift settles into park. His arms are around Fran in a nanosecond, comforting her and leading her to the warmth of the vehicle. Once out of the elements Fran feels slightly better, but is still exhausted from the roller coaster that has been the past few hours.
“Let’s get you back home,” he says, and she begins to panic. “To Hell-ton.”
Her heart rate steadies, and Fran finds enough energy to half-heartedly laugh at the use of Welton’s absurd nickname. This drive is also silent, but extremely comfortable. Eventually Mr. Bednar reaches over and turns the radio on, and she falls asleep to the voice of Sam Cooke.
When Fran arrives at Welton, she doesn’t go back to her dorm. Instead, Mr. Bednar sequesters her into the teachers’ quarters. “Your father will be here in the morning to try and find you and it will be the first place they look,” he explains. “You’re safe up here.” At Fran’s request he grabs Charlotte, and she collapses into the blonde’s arms when she steps in the room.
“Shh Fran, it’s alright,” she soothes. “You’re okay. And you’re safe.”
The two girls sleep curled together on the small couch in Mr. Bednar’s living room while he paces back and forth trying to figure out what to do. He should report the incident to the administration, but he knows that Dr. Sakic will allow Fran to go back into a dangerous situation without care for her safety. There’s nothing he would want less in the world, he decides, and doesn’t care if his credibility is ruined while trying to protect her. He doesn’t sleep a wink, keeping an eye on the door in case someone saw him bring Fran in – Welton’s staff is full of greedy opportunists who will do anything to get ahead.
He was right. The next morning Fran’s father is at Welton, demanding she return home with him. She’s nowhere to be found of course, tucked safely away in Mr. Bednar’s room, but Fran watches him stomp around the grounds from the window. It’s terrifying, knowing he could find her at any second. Never has she been more scared in her life.
Fran’s friends come to see her whenever they can spare a moment, though never all together. Cale comes the most frequently, but that’s because he’s positioned to be a staff member in a few months and the old men don’t mind him being in their quarters. He brings with him sweets and stories of other students misbehaving in class – most of the time it’s Nate. Since she’s technically a fugitive and can’t attend lessons, her friends take turns breaking down the material so Fran doesn’t get too far behind. When the anxiety of getting found out gets to be too much, Charlotte comes to braid Fran’s hair and shares fantastical tales of her European adventures. Nate stops by as often as he can, letting Fran know he’s there for her in every sense of the word, and she feels herself yearning for him once again.
After three days her father stops coming to Welton. Fran assumes he’s moved on to looking in other places, and becomes a bit freer in her movements. Late at night she sneaks out to join her friends at the regularly scheduled Society meetings. Mr. Bednar doesn’t say anything, sometimes helping Fran escape by distracting those who might see her in the hallways. This works for a week, but eventually she’s found out.
Fellow student Nico Sturm finds Fran sneaking back into Mr. Bednar’s quarters one evening. Nico is in that section of the school for chemistry tutoring, and sees her pass by in a flash. Immediately after realizing it was the missing girl teachers have encouraged students to look for, he travels to Dr. Sakic’s office, where the old man works until well into the night. The young man takes the opportunity to also reveal the names of the other students involved in the Society for Banned and Burned Books. Apparently he’s been watching the group for quite some time, waiting until the time was right to present the information. He’ll make a great politician indeed.
Three raps at the door are followed by Sakic’s booming voice. “Jared, open this door or so help me god.”
Fran looks at her teacher with an absolutely petrified gaze. “What do we do?” she asks, voice small.
“Whatever we can to minimize the damage,” he replies grimly.
Dr. Sakic stands in the doorway, broad shoulders making it so much of the space isn’t empty. He invites himself in, peering around the room for Fran. When he spots her he speaks. “Christ Jared, you can’t kidnap children.”
The English teacher calmly explains that he had not kidnapped Fran, but that she had called him for help after running away from home. Apparently that wasn’t the answer Sakic was looking for. The older man explains that Fran’s parents are on their way to the school and that the three of them should make the journey to his office.
The entire time Fran waits for her parents to arrive she’s a nervous wreck. Her teacher does his best to comfort her from a distance – it was made very clear that the two of them were to be separated. Both men let Fran cry freely, which she appreciates, because once her father enters the room she’ll be forced to show no emotion.
He’s a force to be reckoned with when he arrives, arms flying and tongue lashing. It’s all Fran’s mother and Dr. Sakic can do to stop him from tearing Mr. Bednar’s throat out. “You no good son of a bitch,” he screams. “You kidnapped my daughter!”
“Lower your voice, Conrad,” Dr. Sakic advises. “It’s better if we solve this matter privately. We don’t want a scandal.”
Her father huffs gruffly before agreeing. Fran doesn't dare look him in the eye and he pays her no mind. Though her mother does come over to quietly ask if Fran was safe, she’s quickly called to her husband’s side.
The adults deliberate for hours, never once stopping to bring Fran into the conversation. Mr. Bednar gives her a look that says he would if possible, but she knows he can’t ask for her input on the matter at hand. His career is already on the brink. Fran’s father is adamant on having Mr. Bednar fired and pulling her out of Welton.
“It’s clearly not safe for her here,” he argues. “So it’s best we put her someplace else.”
Dr. Sakic disagrees completely. “You’ll never be able to find a school to take her for a month. Plus she’s graduating. Let her remain here, and then send her wherever you’d like.”
Fran’s parents deliberate for a short time. It’s mostly her father arguing that she must leave and your mother agreeing with the headmaster. “He’s right dear, it would be detrimental to her education if we send her someplace else,” she says quietly. He mulls it over for a minute before conceding.
“Fine. But Bednar is gone.”
Fran can’t help her face from falling into a frown. It isn’t fair he gets punished for trying to help her. “Father –” she begins, but he cuts her off.
“I advise you not to speak unless called upon, Francesca,” he says cooly. “When asked, you will verbally confirm that Mr. Bednar kidnapped you and held you hostage. You’ll also sign a paper saying that he encouraged you to enter into unauthorized extra curriculars.”
The tone of his voice tells Fran those orders are final and she’d be a fool to try and defy them. Left with no other option she agrees, though Fran hopes the fingers you have crossed behind her back will help to lessen the guilt. “I don’t see that I have any other choice,” she sighs. “So I have one request.”
“You’re not in a place to be asking for anything,” her father spits.
Dr. Sakic stops him from continuing. “Mr. Winters, we try to keep this school as democratic as possible. Let her speak.”
The floor is hers and Fran’s throat goes drier than a desert. “I don’t want Mr. Bednar in the room when I say these things,” she stammers, heart pounding in her ears. She’d rather not say them at all, but her hand is being forced.
The request is granted, and Fran’s beloved English teacher nods his head once before slipping out of the room. Tears stain her cheeks and blouse as she repeats the words she’s prompted to. Her voice is barely above a whisper and riddled with hiccups, but they don’t let Fran stop. Eventually the excruciating process is done, and it feels like her soul has been crushed. In a way it has – Mr. Bednar gave Fran the tools to feel like her life had purpose and now he’s gone.
Without acknowledging her parents, Fran turns on her heel to return to the dormitory wing. They’ll stay for a while longer, discussing with the headmaster on how they want to proceed legally. At the last second she decides to turn around, speaking to them for what will hopefully be the last time.
“I never want to see either of you ever again.”
Charlotte is waiting for her with open arms. She lets Fran cry herself to sleep, and even then she doesn’t dare move a muscle. The other girl needs her to provide love and stability, even in an unconscious state, and she understands. Sleep doesn’t come easy, or for long, but Charlotte’s there with Fran every step of the way.
☼☼☼☼
Fran is empty. Everything feels like it’s underwater, and she spends most of the morning distant from almost everything. Her friends are there, cracking small jokes and offering comforting touches. It’s much appreciated and Fran hopes they know this, because she’s too exhausted to tell them herself. The events of last night, and the weeks and months before, play on loop in her head. She feels personally responsible for the destruction of Mr. Bednar’s career, and though she knows he doesn’t blame you, Fran can’t help but blame herself.
No one pushes her much, which Fran appreciates. The other teachers know what happened last night, and don’t call on her for answers. Other students whisper but she does her best to ignore them, and when they get a little too rowdy Nate quiets them down with a quick-witted insult. Fran never liked most of them anyways. Nico is nowhere to be found, but she’d be the last person to get your hands on him. Nate, Tyson, and Cale have already said fighting him is worth the risk of getting expelled.
Luckily none of Fran’s friends get punished for The Society. The school administration places all the blame on Mr. Bednar, though that isn’t much of a conciliation. Everyone feels terrible, but the others are keeping their spirits up as much as possible for Fran.
“Look at this origami swan,” Tyson says, dropping it into Fran’s hands. “I figured out how to do it in trigonometry.”
It’s obvious he’s trying to distract her from the fact the pair of them are entering the English classroom. For the first time all year Mr. Bednar won’t be waiting, encouraging everyone to go after their dreams while talking about literature. Fran is grateful for the effort Tyson’s putting in, especially because today has been difficult for him too.
When she slides into her seat behind him, she notices that Dr. Sakic is writing on the blackboard. Once everyone is in their seats and the bell rings he addresses everyone. “I’ll be teaching you for the rest of the year, and we’ll hire a replacement in the summer,” he says. “Though, I suspect the only person in here who will care is Mr. Makar. Perhaps the position will be yours, young man.”
“Possibly Sir,” Cale says shyly, blush creeping onto his cheeks.
The lesson the headmaster turned substitute teacher gives is boring. Apparently very little Mr. Bednar taught was in the curriculum, so he plays catch up as quickly as possible. Fran barely pays attention, wondering what her old teacher is doing at the very moment. Could he already be out of the state, driven out by shame? A knock at the door pulls her from the daydream.
“I left some personal belongings in my office. Should I collect them after class?”
The voice of Mr. Bednar rings out through the room, and Fran whips around in her seat. There he is, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink, but still here and present. He lets the class have a small smile, informing them all he would be okay without having to say anything.
Dr. Sakic doesn’t look thrilled. “It’s fine Bednar, grab them now,” he sighs, corralling the class’s attention back to him.
Too afraid to meet his gaze, Fran stares at her textbook while he passes by. There’s some rustling in the small room behind the main classroom, and then her former teacher emerges. Knowing it’s the last time she’ll ever see the man, and that the guilt will eat her alive if she doesn’t, Fran speaks.
“Mr. Bednar, they made me sign those papers. Made all of us sign them,” she explains, words so rushed they jumble together.
He smiles kindly. “I know.”
“Miss Winters, that’s enough,” Dr. Sakic shouts before narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Your time has expired Mr. Bednar. It’s time for you to leave.”
Mr. Bednar heads for the door. No one else looks at him, too afraid of getting reprimanded by their new teacher. The lesson continues around her but Fran isn't paying attention. Suddenly there’s more rustling, and Tyson is standing on top of his desk.
“Oh Captain, my Captain,” he yells, completely disrupting the studious atmosphere.
The phrase stops Mr. Bednar in his tracks, and he turns around.
“Mr. Jost, get down this instant,” Sakic screeches.
Nate follows his friend’s lead, popping up and repeating the words. “Oh Captain, my Captain,” he says, adding a small salute for flair.
The courage of her friends nestles inside Fran’s stomach and pushes her to act. She rises in solidarity with them, and Charlotte and Cale follow suit. Dr. Sakic yells at the group repeatedly, threatening disciplinary measures that won’t be fun, but Fran could care less. All that matters to her in the moment is letting Mr. Bednar know that she’ll never stop caring about him or forget everything he did for her.
“Thank you kids,” he whispers, a single tear rolling down his left cheek.
Only the five of them stand in sendoff, but it feels like the entire world is on their side. Fran realizes that this is her world – her friends, her idol, and the wealth of memories and possibilities made possible because of them. That will always be enough.
#the banner looks like shit but we don't talk about it#but in all seriousness emma i hope you enjoy ❤️#nathan mackinnon imagine#tyson jost imagine#cale makar imagine#colorado avalanche imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey imagine#hockey fic#the summer fic exchange 2k21#cwrites
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do you still care? | myg
genre: fluff and angst
rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)
pairing: yoongi x reader
theme: idol!au, boyfriend!au, one-shot
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none?
synopsis: After waiting months for Yoongi to come back from tour, your reunion doesn’t quite go as planned.
Today was the day. You had been staring at your phone for what seemed like eternity waiting for your boyfriend, Yoongi, to send you a text saying he had finally landed in Seoul.
BTS's world tour had finished at the perfect time - you had just finished your university exams and although you had slept so little in the past weeks because of you had been studying for hours on end, you were overflowing with excitement to see your boyfriend again.
A world tour for Yoongi meant that he had a hectic schedule of tours, rehearsals, appearances, and photo shoots, while a rigorous university program for you meant that you had assignments, interviews, and exams to complete. Even though you had been texting Yoongi as much as you could, you were often left with short responses and very little love from your boyfriend.
You and Yoongi never had a typical relationship - dating one of the world's biggest superstars did come at a price. You’re unfortunately not the only one who loves Yoongi, and you have to constantly share your favorite guy in the world with millions of ARMY's, and of course his group mates as well.
Dating a member of a group meant that you weren’t just taking care of Yoongi, but also 6 other single boys who never quite clean up after themselves. You had been wishing for weeks that one of them would finally show up to the apartment with a girlfriend just so that you’d have another female to talk to.
You felt your phone vibrate on the table and immediately jumped to open your messages. Surprisingly, it was a text from Taehyung, not Yoongi, that read " Y/N! We just landed back at Incheon. So excited to see you soon!".
As much as you were excited to hear from Taehyung, one of your best friends from the group, you still stared longingly at your phone wondering why Yoongi hasn't texted. You’ve never felt good enough to be dating an idol - and every indication of Yoongi being distant made you shiver at the thought of him getting bored with you.
Much to your delight, your phone started buzzing and read "Incoming Call - Yoongi oppa". The honorifics have always been a bit of a joke between the two of you - though Yoongi was older than you, he found it funny that you came from abroad to Korea and were going to use honorifics for the first time for your boyfriend. Instead you were "his Y/N" and he was "your Yoongi" and that's how you did things your own way.
The sound of Yoongi's voice saying your name as you picked up the phone was music to your ears. "Dinner tonight?" he asked, and you could tell exactly the kind of smile he had one his face as you heard his voice through the phone.
Before you could answer, you heard 3 other very familiar voices chime through the phone "Y/N! We missed you!" that most definitely belong to your 3 other closest friends in the group - Taehyung, Jin, and Jimin. "Hyung did you say dinner with Y/N - we're in!" - and before either of you could protest, Yoongi’s romantic reunion dinner with you had turned into a possible takeout food fiasco at your apartment with 4 rowdy Bangtan boys.
Thankfully, although Yoongi could not convince the boys to give him some alone time with his girlfriend, he did manage to convince them to dress up and come to the gorgeous restaurant he had planned to take you to all along rather than just sit in your apartment in sweatpants eating pizza.
Being the first day in 4 months that you were going to see your boyfriend, you planned to wear a gorgeous dress and had spent almost half a day perfecting your makeup and hair. Soon enough, 6:30pm had come and Yoongi was outside Min's door looking as handsome as ever. Making your way down to the car, you were overjoyed to see your best friends and sat in the back seat beside Taehyung and Jimin as Jin was up front with Yoongi driving.
The drive to the restaurant was filled with lots of laughs, funny stories from touring, and lots of funny jokes from Jimin and Taehyung. Being the same age as them, you naturally felt connected to them when you first met the group.
However one person seemed to be more quiet than the others in the car - Yoongi.
You hardly took note of this as your friends captured your attention constantly, but the oldest kept his attention focused on the road and didn't contribute much to the conversation. But from your perspective, the dinner went off without a hitch at the restaurant and everyone had a great time.
Finally driving home after a filling and happy meal, you were not ready to say goodbye to your friends - you knew you had missed Yoongi, but you didn't realize how much you had missed them as well.
It was only as the car pulled up into Jin's driveway that you first took note of Yoongi's out of character behaviour. Seeing how the other members were not reacting to Yoongi's silence, you wondered if he had just become a more focused, responsible driver in the past 4 months and that this was normal for him - you failed to realize that the real reason for his silence could be you.
Finally dropping off Jimin and Taehyung, you hugged them both tightly and made plans for a movie night as they walked back into their apartment. You then looked at your boyfriend staring straight ahead at the empty road in front of him. "Hey", you said softly, trying to grab Yoongi's attention.
"So now you're going to talk to me?" snapped out of Yoongi's mouth.
You were shocked. You had never imagined that he would talk to you this way - especially since this is the first time that he has seen you in 4 months.
"Wha- ", you didn't even know what to say and were frozen to your spot in the back seat.
Pulling over into a random parking lot, Yoongi put the car into park and turned around to face you in the back seat.
"Thanks for saying all of TWO words to me tonight", said Yoongi.
This made you replay the night in your head, realizing that most of your conversation had centered around Jimin and Taehyung and you had never even looked in Yoongi's direction for most of dinner. You felt horrible for treating him this way and could not believe that you were letting their first night back together end up like this.
Taking your silence as a negative response, Yoongi followed up by saying "Do you even still care about me?"
Before you could even think about what to say, your feelings took over and "Yoongi I love you" came flying out of your mouth.
"I love you. I love you so much that my heart has been bursting trying to stop myself from saying it for so long now so I don't scare you away. I care about you so much - my love for you is watching youtube videos of you performing the same songs in every city on tour just so I can see if you're okay. My love for you is watching your interviews and seeing if you're still smiling. My love for you is seeing your photoshoot pictures just to make sure that you're eating enough and keeping yourself healthy. My love for you is looking at your dark undereye circles to make sure you're getting enough rest. All these little things that you don't see, this is what I do because I love you. I love you more than any words can say, and even though we haven't talked that much in the last 4 months, you have never left my mind and I missed you every single day. I love you Min Yoongi, and only you."
These words sent a shockwave through Yoongi’s system.
Neither of you had ever said I love you before, and for you to feel so strongly about Yoongi brought tears to his eyes.
It was now Yoongi's turn to be at a loss for words - he didn't know what else to do except climb into the backseat of his car ( he wasn’t very graceful... but he got the job done) and hold you in the tightest embrace. Tears now freely flowing down both of your cheeks, neither of you needed any words to express how much you loved each other.
Yoongi brought his lips to your ear and whispered the most gentle "I love you too, you're always gonna be my baby Y/N". In that moment, all of the tension of the earlier dinner faded away as you and Yoongi enjoyed being in each other's presence for the first time in 4 months.
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If you liked my writing please interact/follow! Thank you for reading <3
#bts#bts fluff#bts fanfic#bts angst#min yoongi x reader#suga x reader#yoongi x reader#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts one shot#one shot#sfw#bts imagine#yoongi imagine#yoongi x you#my first piece of writing on here!!#im so nervous about posting this#bts writers
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the collected poems of todd anderson
christmas day of 1959.
ao3 link here
He knew this day would come.
He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.
But this year was supposed to be different.
He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.
Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.
“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.
“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”
Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully.
“I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”
“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries
“Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”
“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.
“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.
“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”
Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“
“-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“
“-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she is.”
God.
This got awkward.
Nice one Todd.
Did it again.
~~
Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.
“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you?
what is the opposite of amnesia?
that is what you are.
sometimes i cant find my way around my memories.
i have to take detours…
i think you were the best one.
little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy
i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful
or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.
last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater
flying high in the sky,
arms outstretched,
laughing,
smiling,
hugging,
bodies pressed onto one another.
it didn’t last long.
piece by wretched, fragile piece
i throw out every hated qualm of thee
your impenetrable stare fixed onto me
i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks.
they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know
but they don't
and it seems neither do we.”
“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.
“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book.
“What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries.
“I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”
Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.
“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.
“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions.
“Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…”
“Yeah.”
“I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.
“Has anything changed, Neil?”
“What do you mean?”
“Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”
More silence…
“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”
“For me, at least.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
~~~
The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.
Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.
His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.
He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him.
His full name.
Aged 17.
Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.
The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.
“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder
“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.
“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.
“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”
“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.
“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.
You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.
With love,
Todd.”
——————————————————————————
i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.
just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3
creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling
#dead poets society#dead poets#dead poets honour#dead poets fanfiction#anderperry#anderperry fanfic#todd anderson#neil perry#todd and neil
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Play Dumb
Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw Female Reader
W.C. 3500
A/N: Hello! So this is my first time posting something I wrote. I’m a little nervous but also very proud of this. I apologize in advance if there is any mistake, English is not my first language.
I would love to know what you think! Thank you and happy reading.
Summary: One day visiting your friend Myrtle, you found that she already had company. Learning some things you shouldn’t about Draco Malfoy you become really nervous around him and see yourself in the need to face him.
*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*
You knew you shouldn’t be out so late, the corridors were completely empty and the echo of your hurried footsteps were so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if some prefect caught you just because of the sound.
But you weren’t the only one out past curfew. The sound of laughter and chase reached your ears from the end of the hallway and there was only one escape. You waited until whoever was having worse luck than you ran past so you could turn and head to your destination. Just as your back rested flat against the stone wall a group of Gryffindors ran the opposite direction from where you were followed close by Mr. Filch who limped as fast as he could after them.
You counted to ten on your head, letting out a breath and resuming your way. The second floor girl’s bathroom was rarely visited by anyone, but you found comfort in the friendly chat you could have with the fellow Ravenclaw, even is she was dead. Not many took the time to get to know Myrtle and she didn’t give chances easily after being called names and thrown things her way, you on the other hand, gathered the patience and tried your best to be an enjoyable company to the girl. You argued, many times ending in an exchange of shouts and petty insults but you always came back and Myrtle always welcomed you with open arms.
So to say that you were shocked to hear a different voice from Myrtle’s as you walked through the door was an understatement. You tiptoed your way in, curious as to who would be there that late at night, you never encountered anyone else there on your visits.
“Myrtle?” you called, taking the last steps to where Myrtle usually. There on the floor sat a boy, he rested his body against the wall, hugging his knees and looking up to nowhere in particular. He didn’t seemed to have heard you until his head snapped at you, your shoe stepping in a puddle of water.
“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, clearly annoyed as his wide eyes changed into a glare. It was Draco Malfoy. You could see him now more clearly, his hair was little wild and his eyes looked tormented, but otherwise it was just the Slytherin Prince in the flesh.
“I came here to see Myrtle.” you answered him, opting to not say a thing about his puffy eyes of the fact that his hands shaked at his sides “I can go,” you offered pointing at the door “She’s not here anyway” and with that you turned on your heel, leaving without another word.
********************************************************************
Your days at Hogwarts were peaceful and full of joy. You adored each and every single one of your classes even if you weren't the best at them, the fact that you tried was enough for you, spending time at the library to research the subjects you didn’t fully understand and just for the sake of being there. If someone was looking for you that would be the first place to look.
You were rarely alone. You were always by your housemate and best friend side, Luna Lovegood, and so it wasn’t a surprise to find her alongside her friends from Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Ginny was the only Weasley you ever considered talking to, the others were too involved in the drama of Harry Potter’s life, and even if you caught on the looks Ginny would give the boy who lived, she didn’t drag the problems with her.
You were happy.
The biggest problem you’ve had in all your years at Hogwarts involved failing a test. That was it. You weren’t a brilliant witch like Granger but you weren’t stupid either. You learned even if that didn’t reflect on your grades all the time.
And yet, lately you found yourself nervous all the time. You felt watched, every place you turned a certain Slytherin was looking your way. Sometimes his eyes would drift away from you and pretend he wasn’t staring but in more than one occasion you’ve locked eyes with him and he shamelessly would keep on looking at you.
Did you do something to anger him? No, you would remember something like that. You’ve barely crossed paths with him, much less talked to him. Then why the sudden interest in you?
“Y/N?” you turned your eyes to Luna next to you, giving her a shy smile “Are you alright?” she asked you with a little smile of her own.
You nodded your head, and took a sip of your juice in front of you “Sorry Luna,” you said “I’m just distracted, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” she sighed happily “I can see that. I’ve also noticed how Draco has been staring at you the entire week” she said, you choked a little on your juice at the casual tone with which she spoke. She handed you a napkin, muttering a Thank you you took it from her hand. Luna tilted her head in your direction “Haven’t you noticed?”
“Actually, yes.” you answered nervously “I don’t why, though.”
Luna hummed softly under her breath, turning gracefully to the table and getting a piece of fruit “Maybe it has to do with your encounter with him” she said.
“Why is that? We barely spoke” you frowned at her, the idea never crossing your mind
“Well, if I was Draco and someone had seen me potentially crying I would be scared of that someone gossiping” Luna smiled, grabbing her bag and holding her hand out for you to take “You coming?” she asked.
You mirrored her actions, taking her hand and walking to your first class of the day. You found it difficult to concentrate the entire day, Luna’s words ringing inside your head at all times. You couldn’t grasp your head around the idea of Draco Malfoy being scared of you telling everyone that you saw him crying. Why would anyone do that? Everybody cries, it’s human.
You pushed the thoughts aside, or as much as you could, and carried on with your day as normally as you could. The back of your head burning at all times with glares and stares from the blonde boy.
********************************************************************
“What’s gotten into you?” Blaise Zabini took his usual spot next to Draco on the common room, the fire burning as he started intently into the flames.
“What do you mean?” Draco asked back, never lifting his eyes to look at him.
Blaise laughed softly, pointing his hands at him “That’s what I mean.” he exclaimed “You’ve been inside your head the past week, barely putting any attention to any of us or the classes. How many times have you asked for my notes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow “Pansy’s? Theo’s? Merlin! Next thing we know we’ll have to give the class ourselves”
Draco’s glare made Blaise slump a little in his seat, but he didn’t walk away or apologized like many did. Years of practice being around Draco did that to you.
“It’s called thinking, Zabini” he growled standing from his seat “You should try it some time”
“Where are you going?” he asked Draco who stopped at door of the common room. Draco only flashed his prefect badge at him, turning and leaving without uttering a word.
No one had said anything to him, not a comment making fun of him nor a funny look, nothing. He was on edge every time he stepped on his common room and heard his friends laughing. The first thought coming to his head being They're laughing at me. But it was never the case. Why was he so scared of you saying something? Did you even notice he was crying? He didn’t even knew your name until two days back when Longbottom shouted for you on the middle of the courtyard, you ran towards him and didn't even spare a glance his way.
Y/N Y/L/N. A Half-blood Ravenclaw.
He would have never acknowledged your existence if it wasn’t for those miserable ten seconds he talked to you, and know you were his every waking thought. Why did he had to breakdown that night? Why did you have to go there at the same time as him?
Why was he walking to the exact same place where yet another problem was thrown over his shoulders?
He opened the door, finding it empty. Maybe it was just a coincidence you were there that night. He made his way to one of the windows, sitting down so the moonlight would shine over his face. He closed his eyes, shaky breaths leaving his lips as he tried to even his breathing. Then the door burst open.
“Myrtle!” It was you again, he rolled his eyes standing and crossing his arms over his chest, you halted and squinting your eyes at him “Hello” you said, recuperating quickly from the shock and walking past him “Have you seen Myrtle?” you asked him so casually his entire unbothered look faltered.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in annoyance, his face hardened as you pulled several things from your bag without a care in the world.
“I could ask you the same thing?” you said back, not bothering to look at him.
“I’m a prefect” he said matter of factly and your entire body stiffened, standing up straight with your eyes scrunched closed.
You cursed under your breath, but then you came to the realization that you were in the girl’s bathroom, your body relaxing as you asked him “Are you patrolling the bathroom?”
He was about to answer but no words left his mouth, he stared at you in anger and pointed to the door “I have to report you”
You turned your entire body to him, he had to admit you were intimidating with the look of determination in your eyes, your straight posture that make you look taller than you were but still, you had to tilt your head upwards to stare into his eyes “Right, let’s go to professor Flitwick. I bet he’ll love to hear how you find me in your patrol through the girl's bathroom.” the words left your mouth so fast you didn't even had control over your voice, sounding like a complete bitch.
“Sorry,” you sighed, still accommodating your place “But I’m not going with you” you shrugged, giving him a side glance to see his reaction.
He scoffed loudly, the bitterness in his face almost making you uncomfortable but you were more taken aback at his reaction, turning completely to him with a frown. “You’re trying to blackmail me, aren’t you?” he laughed humorlessly missing your face contort in one of utter confusion.
“Excuse me?” you said, letting your body fall to the ground sitting there as you looked at him pace.
“You are going to tell the entire school that you saw me crying the other night unless I let you get away with this.” he said, his pacing increasing as he started to rant “I knew there was a reason you didn’t tell anyone…”
“Malfoy”
“...I knew Ravenclaw’s were clever…”
“Malfoy!”
“...this is infuriating!”
“DRACO!” you finally shouted, grabbing his shoulders to hold him in place “Who was crying?” you asked and watched his face fell.
“What?” he whispered, you gave him a concerned look and he shook himself from your grasp “You mean you didn’t see me?” he asked relieved, a relief that quickly was replaced with anger. How could he had been so stupid?
“Draco” you called softly, keeping your distance as you noticed how he had tensed at your touch “Are you alright?”
He shoot you a glare, practically fuming “Stay away from me” he growled and stormed away, leaving a very bad energy in the air.
You sighed, picking up your bag and getting all your supplies inside. Your painting session would have to wait. You stayed a few more minutes chatting with Myrtle, the only thing she could talk about being Draco and how he visited her too from time to time.
That night you stay up until late, wandering what other things did Draco do that you didn’t know of. You wondered why was he so scared of you and the information you learned of him.
********************************************************************
Weeks passed by and you had managed to avoid Draco at all costs, dominating the art of ignoring stares you tried to never be alone, you also cut short your visits to Myrtle, her telling you specifically which day to go. You didn't question her, you even managed to convince Luna to tag along a few times.
Everything was going great. You changed spots and instead of visiting Myrtle you found a windowsill covered by a thick curtain where you could sit and read, sometimes even paint.
So when someone cleared his throat from beside you, you jumped in your place, heart beating hard as you turned to face whoever interrupted your reading. Coming face to face with stern grey eyes.
“Merlin,” you breathed out, catching your breath as you picked your book from the floor “Next time announce yourself or something.” you said.
“Go to your common room” he said, walking past you. You stayed frozen in place and he seemed to notice, his head turning to look at you in disbelief “Now!” he hissed but you still couldn’t take a step.
“Aren’t you going to report me?” you asked him.
He began to lose his patience, marching towards you and you stumbled back as you caught sight of his sleeves rolled up his arms, bracing yourself against the wall “Do you,” he said eyeing your entire body “want me to report you?”
Saying your heart rate was normal would be a lie, that your arms were not shaking would also be a lie. You swallowed the gulp in your throat, shaking your head fast you avoided to look at him and what you just saw, ducking your head down “Goodnight Draco” you said making a beeline to your dorm. Who knew Draco had a tattoo?
********************************************************************
You were officially paranoid. Everywhere you go your eyes scanned the room at least three times for the Slytherin Prefect, and if you even saw a glimpse of him you would run the opposite direction like your life depended on it. You would collapse on other people walking, drop their books or leave your friends abandoned in the middle of a hallway with confused looks, by now they didn’t question you, they just sighed and waited for you to return on your own or for them to find you again.
You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them that Draco Malfoy had you walking on eggshells, that you couldn’t be in the same room as him out of fear of him snapping at you.
You were terrified.
And Draco had caught up in your odd behaviour, he never paid attention to you but now it was hard not to. As soon as your professors said the class was over you jumped to your feet and ran; he went several times to the second floor bathroom in the hopes that he would found you there, he even tried the same windowsill where scared you so bad you dropped your book. He thought of going to your friends but not one time did he gathered the courage to do so. He was lost.
“Draco?” he lifted his head from the book spread over the library table, his eyes falling back to the pages as he met Pansy Parkinson’s eyes “We looked all over the castle for you” she said, a little upset but said nothing more as she took the chair next to him. She frowned at the papers he worked on, not recognizing the subject “What is that?”
He was quick to cover the pages with his arms, gathering all of it so he could put it away in his bag. He muttered a Nothing, getting to his feet, Pansy following close “We’re going to the three Broomsticks“ she said “You want to come with us?”
“I have homework to do” he answered coldly, and she sighed knowing it was lie. They all had finished their homework the day before so they could go out without any worry.
Pansy glanced at him, a smirk tugging to her lips as she leaned into his ear “I heard certain Ravenclaw girl would be there” she whispered, making him stop leaving him a few steps behind her.
“What?” he asked, glaring at his friend when her smirk widened “You’re mental.” he established resuming his walk. She catched up with him, holding his wrist so he would turn and face her.
“I didn’t say who,” she said triumphantly “and you didn’t deny it.” he scoffed moving his eyes away from her, crossing his arms over his chest “Oh, c’mon Draco. We all saw it, you’re not as discrete as you think”
If only you knew, he thought. With a shake of his head he turned to their common room muttering the password and stepping inside. “Leave it, Pansy.” he asked in defeat “This has nothing to do with her, she’s just a problem I’ll have to deal with”
Pansy Parkinson made her fame around being a gossiper, annoying, nosey and manipulative. But she treasure her friends . She knew they all had their boundaries and problems of their own. She knew when to step back.
One of her hands came to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze “We’ll be at the three broomsticks for a while.” she said as an invitation, her hand fell and she left him be.
Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair he looked at his reflection in one vase over the table, he was thinner and looked untidy. He hated looking as he felt. But right now wasn’t time for looks, he had a job to do.
He changed into a more comfortable choice of clothes, making his way to the Room of Requirement. He paced outside the wall a few times before the door appeared before him.
“In the name of Rowena Ravenclaw!” he heard you yell as soon as he crossed the door, closing it slowly behind him “Are you following me?” you asked shutting your book with such a force a thin coat of dust flew from it.
He stood there in shock, that wasn’t the room of requirement. It was a library, but a more comfortable one. Soft couches were lined alongside the bookshelves full of every book you would want to read, the floor was scattered with rugs and cushions, many of them accomodated in a makeshift bed where you had been reading previous his arrival.
“What?” he whispered, looking at you for answers. But you were having no more of it. You jumped to your feet and stormed to his side “Y/N…”
“No” you said pointing a finger at him “Don’t Y/N me” you shut him, and he stood there listening to your every word “You know how much I have suffered because you told me to stay away from you? I don’t even know why I listened to you, but I was terrified. You are intimidating, did you you knew that?”
“Terrified?” he gasped. Never would he have thought that you would use that word to describe him but here you were, ranting on and on about how scared you were, tripping over your own feet as you unconsciously took a few steps back.
You stopped all the gibberish pouring out of your mouth at his question, your eyes were wide but something told you that he was hurt by your words. Your eyes stole glance at his left forearm, quickly realizing your mistake as his own eyes followed your movement.
“You saw it?” he asked, moving a hand to his forearm, running his thumb softly over his sleeve.
You nodded, still shaky that after all your attempts at hiding from him he managed to find you. “I haven’t told anyone” you practically yelled and he now understood your fear towards him.
You knew he was a Death Eater.
“It’s alright” he whispered “I know you haven’t”
You let a breath out, fidgeting with your hands “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m worried about you.” you admitted, a blush creeping over your face “No one deserves to be alone” you muttered, not daring to look up in fear you just made a fool out of yourself in front of the person you were scared of not more than an hour ago.
But when he did not answer the curiosity killed you and you rose your head. His eyes glistened and he had a soft smile on his lips, he looked sad and vulnerable. You couldn’t resist and took the short steps separating the two of you. You engulfed him in a tight embrace, resting your head in his chest as you waited for his body to relax. Just when you thought about letting go of him, he let out a shaky laugh and wrapped his arms around you with the same intensity you did.
You stayed like that for a short while, him pulling you away and looking down at you “Does that mean you didn’t see me cry?” he asked.
You laughed loudly, a look of adoration in his face as your laugh died down “Oh, I did” you said with a chuckle “I just played dumb”
#Draco Malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x reader#hp fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#pansy parkinson#blaise zabini#luna lovegood#ravenclaw reader#draco x ravenclaw!reader#ginny weasley#neville longbottom#Harry Potter#first fic
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LOVE AND HATE
Summary: Shawn and Y/N have hated each other for a long time now. But lucky for them, a little magic can make all the difference.
Warnings: Drunk Shawn (if that even counts)
A/N: So this is my first imagine, don’t judge me 😬. It’s not perfect, but give me feedback in the comments, thanks!
Sometimes the world is not as it appears. Sometimes people fall in love and tell each other. Sometimes people fall in love and instead of telling each other, they create an intense hate for the other to push their feelings away. But love and hate are so closely related that sometimes feelings get mixed up. Especially when there is a dash of magic involved.
“Pleeeaaaasssseeee let me hold your haaannnd,” Shawn slurred out to Y/N. At first she thought he had been messing with her as one of his cruel jokes, but after a half hour of his persistency, she granted him his wish of following her around the club. Now he wanted to hold her hand and Y/N was not going to let it happen.
Y/N was unsure if Shawn had gotten so drunk that he forgot that they hated each other, or if someone had slipped him a little Amour into his cup. Amour was an extremely rare flower that was said to make you fall in love with someone for a short period of time if inhaled or ingested. Y/N hoped it was the latter because then she would never let Shawn live it down.
You see, Shawn and Y/N hadn’t always been enemies. In fact, all the way up until sixth grade they were best friends. Neither Y/N nor Shawn knows who started it, but one day, their friendship shifted into a hateful thing and they had never gotten past it.
Some people would argue with them and say that the reason they grew distant and hateful toward the other was to push them away so they wouldn’t find out their true feelings about the other person.
But Shawn and Y/N were so engrossed in stopping the other person from finding out their feelings for them, that they couldn’t see that they both felt the same way.
“Please Y/N. I just want to hold your hand so bad. Please.” He begged again. Y/N ignored him and walked away. She heard a whimper behind her, but refused to turn around.
“Y/N you realize that when someone is under the influence of Amour and you’re the person they’re in love with and you leave them alone or ignore them they are in physical pain. It’s like the worst heartbreak you’ve ever felt but ten times worse. And you also suffer low self esteem as one of the side effects if the person you fell in love with ain’t giving you attention?” Laney ranted on.
She had been very intrigued in the Amour plant for as long as Y/N could remember. She knew so much about it, and all she was doing was spewing facts at Y/N to try and make her help Shawn.
Y/N had to admit that she felt a little guilty about making him go thorough that. She cared for him deep down but she couldn’t show it or else he would never talk to her again. She would rather have rude and spiteful Shawn than no Shawn. So Y/N turned back around, sighed, and reached her hand out to Shawn’s , who’s face beamed with the biggest smile she’d seen him give her since right before they started hating each other.
“Aww thank you so much Y/N You’re so beautiful.” Shawn whispered into Y/N’s ear causing shivers to go down her spine. He hadn’t called her beautiful in the longest of times. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
“Can I hug you, please?” Shawn gave her puppy dog eyes and Y/N nodded as he pulled her into a bone crushing hug.
“You’re going to have to bring him home with you tonight, you realize that?” Laney said.
Shawn released Y/N and kissed her forehead. “Ooh, when we get back to your place, can we cuddle?”
Y/N chuckled. “You know, on a normal day Shawn, you hate me.” Shawn’s eyes widened at what Y/N had said.
“How could I ever hate an angel like you? Are you sure that’s not a different Shawn you’re thinking of?”
“I’m positive.”
“Well then I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I promise I’ll never hurt you again. Forgive me?” Y/N chuckled as Shawn pouted.
“You realize that when the Amour loses its effects you’ll break that promise?” Y/N’s voice dropped with sadness. Sometimes she just wanted her best friend back.
“Why?! I don’t understand!” Shawn whined. “I’m in love with you so how could I hate you?”
Now Shawn was genuinely confused. Yes he was under the effects of the Amour, but he had always harbored feelings for Y/N. And he had regretted ever being mean to her or making her feel worthless. His intentions were to make her distance herself but it didn’t work too well since they had the same friends.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He hoped to remember the promise that he made her once the effects wore off. He wasn’t positive who had slipped him the Amour, but he was pretty sure it has been Laney. She had wanted a test subject for years and she must have just got her hands on some Amour and what better way to test then on her best friend’s enemy.
Y/N dragged Shawn out to her car and helped him into the passenger’s seat. He whimpered in pain when she let go of his hand and closed the door. He had to be touching Y/N or it felt like he was being pricked in the heart by a bunch of tiny needles.
“Here you go,” Y/N said offering her hand up to him once she had started the car.
“Thanks,” Shawn said kissing it and putting it back on the middle console with his hand clasped in hers.
“Actually, instead of going to my house, let’s just head to yours. You have a comfier couch anyways.” Y/N said.
Though their hate had stopped them from being friends years ago, Shawn’s friends requested that he invite her to every group hangout that he hosted at his house. Shawn would act out out about it, but secretly would love the fact that Y/N would be at his house.
***
“Hurry up and get in my house. It’s been soooo loooong since me and you have been alone together.” Shawn whined pulling Y/N into his house. “Do you want something to drink? Let’s watch a show and have snacks like we used to do when...before...” Y/N was surprised that even in his state, he could remember what had happened between them or at least sort of.
“Umm, I don’t know if a movie is the best thing to watch,” In truth, Y/N would’ve loved to have watched a movie with Shawn because she missed the old times, but she was worried about what Shawn would try during the movie. Plus, it was already 10:45 and she wasn’t sure she could stay awake much longer.
Shawn pouted his lips at Y/N and she sighed. “I’m putting my foot down because it’s late and I’m tired and taking care of you is not something I’m very fond of doing!” She snapped at Shawn. She didn’t mean to, but she was exhausted and wanted to go to bed.
A tear fell down on Shawn’s cheek. “Umm I’m sorry. I... I don’t want to be an inconvenience, but I guess I must’ve really hurt you and I’m sorry. I thought there might’ve been a little part of you that still cared about me. Umm...goodnight Y/N.”
Y/N felt her heart ache for the boy. She remembered Laney saying that people under the influence of Amour were extremely sensitive to what the person that they “love” says and does.
Shawn trudged over to his room and closed the door. Y/N walked through his apartment—something she’d never done when she’d been over—and found pictures of when they were kids and still friends. She found one where Shawn had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and they were staring at each other in a way she could only define as love.
Y/N shook her head and sighed, walking over to Shawn’s piano. She touched a few of the keys and looked up at the sheet music resting on the piano. ‘Why’ was the name of the song.
Y/N jumped when she heard the clicking of Shawn’s door opening. “I...umm...I’m taking the couch tonight, you can sleep in my bed.” He was dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants and his hair was tousled. Y/N’s heart swooned at the sight.
Y/N shook her head. “I can’t take your bed, this is your house and I’ve been so mean to you.”
“Well I’m not taking the bed so you better so my bed isn’t wasted tonight.” Shawn shot her puppy eyes.
“Fine, but just because you gave me puppy eyes.”
“I uh...” Shawn scratched the back of his neck. Y/N hadn’t seen this nervous side of Shawn in a while. Usually he was really cocky around her. “I left some clothes out for you to change into, but if you don’t, I get it.”
“Thank you, I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Y/N said hugging Shawn and kissing his cheek. “Goodnight.”
***
Shawn woke in the middle of the night in cold sweats. His head ached and he was disoriented. And why was he on the couch? And were those...no it couldn’t have been Y/N’s shoes at the door. But...he didn’t know anyone else that were specially made pink Doc Martins.
So did that mean that Y/N was in his house...right now? Not just for a group hang out? No, that couldn’t be. Shawn shook his head.
He thought back to the night before. He had gone to a club with his friends and Y/N was there. She looked so beautiful, as always. And then...Laney offered to buy him a drink. And...oh gosh!
His memories came flooding back to him and he cringed in embarrassment. How could he have let himself go so far as to cry in front of her? She seemed almost...happy in his memories that he was talking to her. Did she really care that much if he was in love with her? There was nothing more he could do to harm their friendship.
What if...what if this was his only chance to talk to her normally without it being awkward because she thought he was still under the influence of Amour. All he would have to do is act like he did yesterday. It would be easy, right?
Shawn cleared his thoughts and grabbed his phone which was resting on the coffee table. 5:00 AM. He should at least get up and go to the gym or something.
He heard the door to his bedroom opening and he quickly covered his head with blankets and pretended to be asleep. “Ahem,” he heard Y/N clear her throat. It was one of the cutest things ever and Shawn couldn’t help but blush.
He slowly stretched and yawned pretending like he was waking up. He cracked his eyes open and smiled at Y/N. She was dressed in one of his gym shorts and his gym shirt. She looked so adorable in his clothes and Shawn’s heart fluttered.
“Umm good morning. I hope you don’t mind that I’m wearing some of your gym clothes, but I kinda wanted to work out. Do you want to come with me?” Shawn nodded his head eagerly, perhaps too eagerly, even for someone under Amour.
***
“Here, let me pay for that,” Shawn said pulling out a 20 and placing it on the counter at the smoothie shop.
“You shouldn’t have paid for me. I’ve been awful to you. Well you probably don’t even remember. You probably won’t even remember this conversation in a couple of hours. I think the affects are only supposed to last 12 or so hours. Let’s see, you started acting up at around 10:00 so we have,” Y/N checked her watch,”3 hours, give or take.”
Shawn nodded his head trying to act oblivious. He was unsure what to do. Should he just tell her?
“Y/N I’m not under the influence of Amour. Or at least not anymore. I haven’t been since I woke up.”
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Okay then, tell me something that only you would know if you weren’t influenced.”
Shawn scoffed and shook his head. “I’ve made you cry more times than I want to even think about. When we were in sixth grade and I vowed that I would never hurt you, I broke it. So many times. But I thought that by breaking it,” Shawn sighed taking Y/N’s hands into his own. “I was scared. I fell in love with you. I didn’t want to ruin anything. I didn’t understand why I felt nervous around you. I thought that maybe if I distance myself right then, I could fix our friendship later. But the only way you would leave me alone was if I really hurt you. So I did what I thought I had to do. And I’ve been regretting it since then. Every time I would say something mean, I would cry myself to sleep thinking I hurt your feelings. And I kept the act up because you would be mean right back to me and I thought you hated me. But I can’t keep doing that. I’m in love with you. Every song I’ve written about love has been about you. My cards are all out on the table. You can take them or...you know...leave them.” Shawn said voice quieting towards the end.
“I’m so glad to hear that Shawn! So incredibly glad! Was that song on the piano I think it was called ‘Why’, was that about me?” Shawn nodded his head.
Y/N pulled his ear down to her mouth. “Let’s not put each other through hell and let’s get over ourselves.” Shawn smiled and pulled Y/N into a sweet passionate kiss which she returned.
Sometimes love and hate are so similar that who you hate is the person that you love.
#Shawn Mendes#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn Mendes imagines#shawn mendes imagines#shawn fluff#angst imagine#shawnangst#drunkshawn#fluffyshawn#softboyshawn#imagines
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rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt17
there’s a lil easter egg in here :) wonder who can find it first!! thanks so much for reading i lov u
pt1
pt16
pt18
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” Zuko asked. His amber eyes were transfixed on the tent before him.
“I think you know that isn’t true.” (Y/N) took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’ll be with the others if you need me.”
When the group awoke the next morning, Aang was gone. Each member searched high and low for the young Avatar, but to no avail. “I don’t really think this is the time for him to go on one of his special Avatar journeys,” Toph grumbled, to which (Y/N) hummed in agreement. As the group reunited after their searches, Zuko proposed the idea of utilizing the bounty hunter June and her shirshu Nyla in finding Aang.
“Isn’t she the one who paralyzed me?” (Y/N) asked bitterly.
“And me?” Sokka chimed in.
“And me?” Katara added. Zuko shrugged.
“Her shirshu can track someone down from across a continent. If anyone can find Aang, it’s her.” (Y/N) was not interested in the idea of procuring a bounty hunter to find Aang, but it was their only hope.
And that hope was quickly squandered. When they found June and convinced her to help them, her shirshu couldn’t locate Aang.
“Is he dead?” (Y/N) asked. June shook her head.
“Nyla would be able to smell his body. Your friend isn’t in this world anymore.” What that meant exactly, the group had no idea. Even when Aang traveled to the Spirit World, his physical body remained in the physical one. How could he have just disappeared?
“Try this, then,” Zuko said, holding up a piece of clothing to Nyla’s nose. The shirshu sniffed and immediately turned in the opposite direction, ready to dart off into the woods.
“Whose is that?” Katara asked.
“It’s my uncle’s. If anyone will be able to tell us what to do, it’s him.”
Nyla led the friends to the outer wall of Ba Sing Se, where they were met by King Bumi, Master Pakku, and the other great masters they had met over their travels.
“How do you all know each other?” Sokka asked.
“We are all part of the Order of the White Lotus,” Piandao explained. “An organization that transcends loyalty to our nations and instead comes together to fight for the common good.”
“Does that mean my uncle is here?” Zuko asked. Piandao nodded. The six friends were led into the main camps, where many tents had been set up to house other members of the Order. As (Y/N) passed, she recognized a few of the members as people she had known during her time traveling the three nations. Citizens of the Fire Nation that were also part of the Order seemed to be few and far between, but (Y/N) supposed their numbers deteriorated after nearly a hundred years of pro Fire Nation propaganda.
The biggest tent of them all belonged to the Grand Lotus: Iroh. The rest of the group dispersed to discuss battle plans, leaving (Y/N) and Zuko paused just paces away from the entrance of the tent.
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” Zuko asked. His amber eyes were transfixed on the tent before him.
“I think you know that isn’t true.” (Y/N) took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’ll be with the others if you need me.” Her fingers slid from his and Zuko turned to watch her walk away before taking a deep breath and entering his uncle’s tent.
(Y/N) sat between Sokka and Katara as they listened to Master Pakku describe the Order’s plans to liberate Ba Sing Se. He paused as she joined their group.
“Ah, (Y/N). Glad to see you’re back in the clothes of your home nation.” It was a joke of course, a nod to the last time they had seen each other.
When the Fire Nation was attacking the Northern Water Tribe, (Y/N) had felt defenseless while fighting off the Fire Nation soldiers, so she had unleashed her firebending on them. Soldiers from the Water Tribe had captured her as a spy and it had taken a lot of convincing from Katara that she really was trying to fight against the Fire Nation. It was an embarrassing misunderstanding that led to (Y/N) to choose hand-to-hand combat over her own firebending if she could help it.
“Evening, Master Pakku,” (Y/N) said with a smile.
“Do you really think Iroh and the other firebenders will be powerful enough to take back the city?” Sokka questioned. Both Pakku and (Y/N) nodded.
“His power as a firebender is unparalleled,” Pakku explained.
“He might look like a sweet old man, but he is one of the best firebenders in the entire nation,” (Y/N) added. “I learned some of my best techniques from studying how he fought. Plus the comet will only make firebenders even more powerful.”
“Yeah, but you’re fighting against Fire Nation soldiers,” was Sokka’s rebuttal. “Won’t they be more powerful too?”
(Y/N) nodded. “I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but people like Iroh and I spent a lot more time training than those lousy soldiers. It’ll be a long fight, but not a hard one for Iroh.”
Almost as if he had been summoned, Iroh exited his tent with Zuko as his side. (Y/N) recognized the glistening trails of tears on Zuko’s face, but also saw the happiness in his eyes.
“(Y/N)!” Iroh cheered. She smiled widely and stood to run over and give him a hug. “It is very good to see you again.”
“And you the same,” she said, giving him a bow. “It feels like just yesterday that we broke out of the Fire Nation prison.”
“This is who broke you out?” Katara asked. Iroh chuckled.
“You think I would let the only other sane person in the Fire Nation stay in jail?” They returned to the campfire to further discuss their plans for the comet. Iroh poured them all cups of tea as Zuko and (Y/N) sat next to each other. Katara was the only one who caught the look of surprise on his face and she returned it with a smile as she accepted her cup of tea.
“Katara,” Zuko said. “How would you like to come to the Fire Nation to help (Y/N) and I take down Azula?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Katara said with a grin. The situation still gave (Y/N) a heavy feeling in her stomach, but sometimes the right thing was the hardest thing to do.
Eventually, (Y/N’s) friends and the other members of the Order dispersed from the campfire to retire for the night. Only (Y/N) and Iroh remained, finishing off the pot of tea.
“I see you and Zuko reconciled,” Iroh hummed as he sipped his tea.”
“For the most part, yes.” Iroh was the easiest person to talk to, (Y/N) found. When she was younger and had not even her own parents to turn to, if Iroh was visiting, he would lend her an ear. “I think I’ve forgiven him. Part of me still gets mad thinking about the things he’s done to me and my friends.”
“That is only natural. The heart cannot forget the wounds that it has endured, but it can heal from them.” (Y/N) nodded.
“I’m trying to.”
“I always thought you and Zuko were the most interesting pair.”
“How so?” Iroh sat in silence for a moment as he pieced his thoughts together.
“You are strong in your beliefs. You are not afraid to be defiant if it means doing what is right. I remember when you were younger, I heard you arguing with your mother about why you should continue your firebending training. You told her that you did not care what she wanted you to do, because you knew becoming a better bender would make you stronger.” Iroh chuckled.
“Zuko had told me to say that, so I could stay in training with him. She gave me the punishment of a lifetime after I said it.”
“I am sure. But Zuko was not granted the same strength as you. He is loyal to the people he cares about, which is why it was so hard for him to choose what was right and wrong. He loved you and I but loved his father and Azula as well.”
(Y/N) furrowed her brows. She wasn’t quite sure where Iroh was going with this, but then again, was anything he said ever straightforward?”
“You pushed Zuko to make the right choices and he pushed you to stand up for yourself. As I watched you grow up, I noticed how you rotated around each other. Like the moon and tides, you and Zuko were always the driving force behind the other.”
“Until he was banished.”
“Zuko fought so hard to capture the Avatar because he wanted to restore his honor and return home to you. He will never admit it, but that is all he wanted.”
“And I guess here I was, fighting against my home for doing horrible things and taking someone I cared about away from me.”
“We are all connected, but no matter how hard you or Zuko tried to cut the thread that tied the two of you together, it is indestructible.” Iroh finished the last of his tea and stood. “You must rest. We all have a big day ahead of us.”
(Y/N) watched as Iroh returned to his tent. She squashed out the dying fire. and made her way back to the tens she and her friends had been given. Katara and Toph slept in the first one, Suki and Sokka in the next, and Zuko lay fast asleep in the last one.
(Y/N) crawled into the spot beside him, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on her body. She lay on her back and instantly fell asleep.
Katara woke the next morning and decided to rouse (Y/N) and Zuko first, since they would be traveling to the Fire Nation together. She pulled open the door to the tent to see (Y/N) snoring on Zuko’s chest, with Zuko’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
Katara dropped the tent door and walked away. She could give them a few more minutes.
---
Tag List!
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#atla#avatar#zuko x reader#sokka x reader#aang x reader#katara#sokka#aang#toph#zuko#iroh#azula#suki#appa#momo#the last airbender#writing#fanfiction
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A Tasteless Mess • Jesse Williams
Summary: Being in the world's biggest girl group and having a celebrity crush do not always go well together
word count: 1394
Your album Confetti had now been released to the outside world full of fans for three weeks. And with people who needed a belt under their hearts, or some kind of support.
But soon people were asked from all over to be a guest on talk shows, music events, photoshoots and the rest that came along as a member of a well-known girl band.
"These girls have the power to turn other girls with no confidence into the strongest girls ever, their sixth album Confetti has been out since last week, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Little Mix!" James stepped away from behind the desk and walked over to the sofa.
The five of you emerged from behind the curtain and heard the screams of the fans in the audience.
Waving to the fans, the five of you took turns embracing James, and you all did the same with Shawn and Lizzo.
Just as you all sat down Lizzo waved her hand in her face for some fresh air. "I can't believe these five amazing bitches are sitting next to me, James, let me have this moment"
The audience laughed at Lizzo's choice of words to describe her feelings toward the five girls sitting next to her.
"Yeah you're all pretty great, that's totally a statement" Shawn admitted, nodding to the five of you
"Pretty great? Shawnie boy, boo, listen, these women, I- they slay my life, they're incredibly good" Lizzo let out a loud laugh and put her ponytail on her left shoulder.
James placed pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the audience with a neutral stare before turning it towards Lizzo. "Melissa Jefferson, this is my show, do you mind?"
Lizzo laughed again at the expression James just showed on his face. "Of course I'll just try to shut up, for now."
you and Jesy snort at Lizzo's answer before James directed one of his questions to you. "The album Confetti, it shows us a new side of you, was that your goal?"
Jesy nodded to the man's question before answering. "Especially a more mature side of us, that's something we wanted to show to the world and to our Mixers."
"Nothing but my feelings, is that one of those songs?" James asked, cerious.
"Definitely, me, Jade and Leigh-Anne wrote this song, we wrote it on a writing trip to LA, it's a very innocent song but the lyrics are quite daring." You explained when the fans started cheering.
"Are you going on a Confetti tour soon?" James said.
"Sure, it would be a shame not to sing these bangers live with fans like them, wouldn’t it?" Perrie pointed to the fans sitting in the multiple seats. "They're amazing and part of us."
"They really are." Leigh-Anne nodded, smiling at the fans.
"You heard it people they are going on a tour, but before we say goodbye, let's play a game of Spill Your Guts or fill Your Guts, come on."
the five of you stood up and followed the host of this show to the table, which was surrounded by six chairs and a plate filled with foods you'd rather not eat.
"The rules are simple, we will be asking each other a few personal questions. If you don't answer, you will have to eat a disgusting food of your opponents choice." James explained.
"there's jellyfish, turkey testicles, vienna sausage juice, also bull penis, bug trifle, bird saliva, june bug jello and a pepper smoothie." James said as he turned the plate.
"I can't believe I haven't run away yet." Jade muttered, sitting on the chair next to you.
"there is little chance now, I suppose." Perrie smiled at Jade, hands clasped on the table.
"I'll ask the first question, I'll give Jesy the bug trifle, by the way." Leigh-Anne said when James handed the cards to her. "Oh this is a good one."
"rank these collaborations from best to worst, Secret Love Song, How Ya Doing and More Than Words." Leigh-Anne read aloud, glaring at Jesy.
Jesy grinned at herself, licked her lips and took the glass with the trifle, peeking at the audience. "I can just eat some of the cream? I'm really not going to answer this question."
"if you want to be an wuss, sure, why not." James shrugged as the audience laughed slightly.
Jesy took the spoon and took a small scoop of the cream next to the bug and put it in her mouth before swallowing it with her eyes closed.
"Okay the next one if for Jade Amelia Thirlwall and I'll give her the bird saliva." James said, smiling at Jade shaking her head. "Rank these music videos, Sweet melody, Holiday and Break Up Song."
Jade leaned back in the chair, glaring at the glass filled with the thin substance. "I won’t touch that glass, nope, uhm, Sweet melody, Holiday and then Break Up Song, no hate, all three of those are great songs."
The rest of you nodded your heads to her answer, which is what you had privately talked about. Sweet Melody was your favorite music video at the moment.
The choreo, the location, the transitions everything was perfect about the music video. something you hadn't done for a long.
"The next one is for y/n and she gets the bull penis." Perrie smirked, turning the plate towards you. "It is not a lie that you co-wrote the lyrics to 'Shout Out to my ex' together with me, but which ex was it exactly?"
You laughed when Perrie finished reading the question just asked. "not a hair on my head that thinks I will answer this."
you took a small piece out of the bowl in front of you and inspected it although the smell came in very strong and made you cough before putting it in your mouth while the audience applauded
After a second of chewing you spit the piece into the bucket next to you, the dirty taste took over in your mouth, you took the glass of water that was standing on the table, finishing it all. "don't try this at home, Mixers."
"and now finally the host, we will give you the june bug jello." Jesy joked, spinning the plate. "Out of all the guests you've seen here, who wanted the fans to see for a long time?"
"oh! I know! I'm one of those! This is so unfair now that I know something." you pouted your lip when the audience laughed at your enthusiasm.
James frowned at Jesy and crossed his arms in thought, turning his head to the audience. "you can't accidentally call it or something?"
James sighed and took the jello off the plate and began to chew on the yellow and not so tasty dish that was being served.
he swallowed it and shook his head, overwhelmed with the taste now in his mouth. "that wasn't good."
the audience laughed and Jade took the last ticket before bursting into a loud laugh and clapping her hands and looking at you with wiggling eyebrows.
"oh god why am I scared?" you looked at the audience with a frown on your forehead.
"We all know you go live on Instagram once a week, we also know that besides being a member of Little Mix, that you are someone's fangirl, our fans know that too, or is it more of a crush?" tried to read to Jade, but she laughed.
"Who did me like that? dear lord, I'm not answering this after- fuck," you laughed nervously and the audience laughed along.
"So your love for Jesse Williams is huge?" James asked as a smirk played on his lips.
"Have you seen him? His eyes, his smile, his voice is so recognizable, the freckles, just everything ‘bout that man, but why are you smirking?" you asked.
"Maybe I should ask him?" said a voice from next to you that made you freeze, and the audience began to shout.
"no, no, no, no fucking way, okay, I'm gonna freak out, omg." your eyes opened wide when you turned and your celebrity crush was behind you. "oh my- I can rest in peace, can I give you a hug?"
you didn't wait for an answer but got up from your chair and took the actor in an embrace, the feeling of fangirl filled your heart.
#jesse williams imagines#jesse williams#little mix#little mix x you#little mix imagine#jesse williams x reader#celebrity imagine#fangirl#james corden#late late night with james corden#spill or fill your guts#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes x reader#shawn mendes#lizzo
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Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)
You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.
“You sure this will work?”
“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”
Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.
Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.
Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.
The audacity!
To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.
Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.
He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.
But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.
At first, you brushed it off.
He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.
Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.
PERIODTTT.
Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.
“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”
“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”
A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.
Katsuki grimaced.
“Whatever kid, c’mon.”
He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”
The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.
Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.
“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”
“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”
“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”
Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.
He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.
A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.
He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.
His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.
As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.
Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!
What the fuck was this shit?
Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.
CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?
Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest
CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!
Y/N: 🤷🏾♀️ first time for everything.
Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.
He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.
So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?
Y/N: u entering or what? 👀
CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.
Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾
He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?
Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!
His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.
CMK: how much does it take to win?
Y/N: just whoever has the most.
CMK tipped $150,000
CMK: now take it the fuck down
Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.
CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.
Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.
CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.
True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.
Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.
You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.
Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.
You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.
You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.
If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.
The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.
You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!
“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.
He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.
The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.
Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.
“Oh my god...”
“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.
Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!
“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.
“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.
You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.
He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.
He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.
“You wanna drink, beautiful?”
“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”
He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.
“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”
“F/N,” you replied.
“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”
He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.
“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”
He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.
“Can’t say the same for myself though.”
Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.
“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.
The attempt earned him a giggle.
“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”
“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.
This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.
Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”
“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”
“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”
“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.
“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”
A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”
“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”
A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh
“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”
He scoffed, amused.
“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”
Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.
Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.
His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.
“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”
“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”
That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.
“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.
You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.
He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.
“Now we match.” He grinned
“You ass—“
“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”
True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.
Your body was trembling from sensory overload.
“God..” you moaned.
“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”
“Eat me.”
#bnha headcanons#black writers#mha headcanons#bnha#my hero academia#bnha imagines#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#self insert#bnha smut#bnha scenarios#my hero fanfic#bakugo smut#boku no hero academia#Youtube
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Drunk in love ~ Orange Cassidy x reader (NSFW)
REQUEST BY : @bestfriendshypewoman (I hope you like it!!!)
Summary: You go out to the bar with Adam after Revolution 2020, You and Orange get tipsy and you both get very handsy and flirty. You both end up back in your hotel room and it gets juicy. ;)
Word count: 3500
Revolution had come and gone and it had been the best ppv for AEW so far. You had defended your AEW women's championship against one of your closest friends Kris Statlander. The saying in pro wrestling that “you hit harder when you're fighting your friends” never rang truer than when you and Kris stepped in the ring against one another. It was a hard hitting, fast paced match and it helped a lot that the crowd was electric the entire time. Signing with AEW was the best decision you had ever made in the last 15 years of your career, you were doing your best work and it was only getting better as your title reign continued.
Hopping between different indie promotions means you made friends all over the world but sadly you didn't get to see them as often as you would like until now. That being said you also saw the people you didn't like a lot more often. Such people included the cooler than cool Orange Cassidy. It's not that you hated Cassidy, it's just he rubbed you the wrong way. It wasn't a one way street though, Cassidy wasn’t your biggest fan either. He would leave the room if you entered, he would ignore you if you both ever got stuck in a conversation together but now you were both in the same promotion so you did what any rational adults would do, and completely ignored each other like the plague.
So after your blockbuster match with Kris, you were bruised and beaten up as you prepared to leave the arena and return to your warm, soft bed back at the hotel. However just as you went to leave Hangman Adam Page came into your dressing room. “Hey Y/N, heck of a match tonight, congrats on successfully defending that title” He says as he gives you a congratulatory hug. You and Adam had been friends for many years, ever since ROH when Adam debuted and you were in a singles match on the main card. You had approached Adam after the show and you both immediately became great friends. “Speak for yourself! You just had an easy 5 star match and you're taking home the belt as well, I owe you many congratulations.” You laugh as you pat Adam on the back. “I don't know how you're still standing either, I'm absolutely exhausted and I can't wait to collapse back at the hotel” you confess to Adam as you go back to packing up your gear bag. “So you would be up for a champion’s celebratory beer at the bar?” You turn back to Adam to see him hiding a smirk like he already knew you answer. “Adam, I wanna go to bed.” you whine as Adam starts to give those puppy dog eyes of his. “Come on Y/N, were drinking buddies! You wouldn't want a cowboy to drink all by his lonesome after we’ve both had such a successful night” Adam did give some good points. The second you hesitated to think about it, Adam broke out into a smile. “Great! I'll meet you in the hotel bar in 30 minutes” before you could argue Adam was already walking out giving you no option but to go drinking with your favourite southern boy.
You arrived back at the hotel to dump your luggage off back at your room first, while you were there you changed from your sweatshirt into a nice top so even if you didn't feel the best you might as well look the best. You left your room and headed towards the elevator. As you wait for the elevator, you reply to Adam’s text asking if you were on your way and if he should order you something to have it waiting for you when you get there. You got onto the first elevator that came, still on your phone you glanced up to push the button as you hit send on your demands for a free drink for Adam in exchange for your missing sleep. You put your phone back into your pocket when you see you're not alone in the elevator, you were joined by all 3 of the best friends. You glance away to the mirror to fix your makeup. You hear Trent and Chuck talking amongst themselves about the pay per view that had just passed. It was no surprise not to hear a word from Cassidy other than the occasional grunt and mumbled “yeah”. You feel eyes on you as you glance in the mirror to see Cassidy staring at you in the mirror through his sunglasses. You raise your eyebrow slightly as you can feel your cheeks start to warm up under the heat of his stare.
The elevator dings when you all arrive at the lobby, you immediately turn to walk out of the elevator and towards the bar where you saw nearly every AEW wrestler celebrating another amazing ppv. You spot Adam sitting at the bar with two neat whiskeys in front of him and you immediately beeline for the much needed drink. Once you sit beside Adam the drinking begins, From beers to whiskeys as long as it was alcoholic you guys were drinking it. Since you were so small people assumed you couldn’t handle it, which couldn't be more wrong considering you put away a bottle of whiskey like it was nothing. As the hours ticked the crowd started to thin out in the bar but a lot of the remaining crowd all gathered around a few tables you had pushed together so you could all laugh and chat together. You were sandwiched between Adam and Chuckie T who were deep in conversation about the ups and downs of being southern men. You were drunkenly talking across the table at Kris who was telling you about her learning to wrestle on her home planet and how it compares to earthling wrestling. You were leaning your head against Adams shoulder as you normally did when the liquor was getting to your head. You glance around at your gang of coworker who were laughing and hollering as they told stories of their travels around the world before you eyes landed on Orange Cassidy, now without his signature sunglasses it was irrefutable that he was staring argyle at you, but as you focused on him you realized he wasn’t glaring at you rather he was giving a dead stare to Adam. This was thoroughly confusing as you weren’t aware if Adam and Cassidy had any beef. You make a mental note to ask Adam about it later when you were both sober.
You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and when you return you see that Chuckie has taken your seat and Trent has taken his seat, leaving the only empty seat beside Orange. You hesitate before sucking it up and sitting beside Cassidy, hoping he won't cause a fuss since he's busy chatting to Brandon Cutler and a few others. You pick back up your conversation with Kris which was easier since you were closer to her so it was far easier to hear her. Your conversations ends and you listen to Adam’s as he drunkenly rambles on about proper horse care to Trent and Chuckie who you are not sure if they’re listening intently or too drunk to even know Adams talking. You feel something on your back and turn to see Orange resting his arm around the back of your chair. You turn to face him and he’s already staring right at you with those strikingly blue eyes. “Can I help you?” You say, attitude dripping off every word. Cassidy sighs, he glances around at everyone at the table almost to ensure no one's watching before he leans in to you. “Listen i know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye-” You interrupt him with a laugh at his massive understatement. “I mean it's hard to see eye to eye when we avoid each other Cassidy” he rolls his eyes. “Are you going to let me finish?” his voice had an air of dominance that you had never heard before causing you to stop talking immediately. Orange pulls your chair closer to him as the group around you gets loud again. He started to speak again this time in a low voice that demanded your attention. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I feel I have to explain myself. I feel there has been a misunderstanding between us..” due to how close you two had suddenly become you could smell jack and coke he was sipping on. “You see sweetheart I haven't been avoiding you because I don't like you, no no no quite the opposite, I’ve been avoiding you because I'm fascinated by you, the way you carry yourself. I find you incredibly attractive.” This was the most you had heard Cassidy speak in all your years of knowing him and to say you were gobsmacked would be an understatement. All this time you thought Cassidy disliked you and this is what was happening the whole time.
As Cassidy spoke he rested his hand on the lower part of your thigh. You moved your hand to Cassidy’s side as you leaned in to whisper your response into his ear. “And here i was thinking you hated me but looking at where your hand is right now i can bet that you like me a lot more than you're letting on” the smirk on your face grows as you see a light blush grow on Cassidy’s face. You gently kiss Cassidy on the neck before you go to lean back in your chair but Cassidy doesn’t let you move too far away from him by wrapping the arm that was resting on your chair around your waist to pull you back into him. “Jesus, I always knew you’d be a tease” Cassidy growls into your ear “I just want to see how hot and bothered I get you” You run your hand up his thigh. Before Cassidy can reply in your back and forth he's interrupted by Adam. “Hey Y/N, I wanna head back to my room, help me up” You turn in your chair to see Adam doing grabby hands towards you. You burst out laughing at Adam showing how much of a baby he is. “Yeah ok Hangy lets get you back to your stables” you turn back to Cassidy to see him not looking at you but instead doing his usual too cool for school face, you grab a napkin off the table and a pen from your purse to scribble down your hotel room number. “When you finish up here come see me” You hand Cassidy the napkin and wink before you turn to help Adam out of the bar.
Adam was relying his entire weight on you as you approached his hotel room door, he was chatting your ear off about how fun the night was and how glad he was to have a friend like you. You led him into the room before unceremoniously dumping him on his bed. He Immediately kicks off his boots before he starts to undress himself. “Jesus, Ok Adam at least give me some sort of warning before you decide to get naked” You say over your shoulder as you turn to walk out of the room and to return to your own. “Ok night night Y/N” You couldn't help but laugh as you hear Adam wish you a good night, completely ignoring his half assed strip tease he just gave you. The second you shut Adams door behind you the anxiety in your stomach builds, what if Cassidy doesn't show but what happens if he does show up. The elevator ride from Adam’s floor to your own feels like an eternity. You get off the elevator and head towards your room. Once inside you put your bag down and take off your jacket. The pacing begins some time after that. You were a nervous wreck as you touched up your makeup and fixed your outfit waiting for Cassidy to show up.
When you finally hear a knock at your door, you wait a few seconds to catch your breath before you look through the peephole to see Cassidy looking as nonchalant as ever. You open the door and before you can even greet him. Cassidy pushes past you into the room, slamming the door and pushing you up against it. You can feel his lips ghosting your own as you get lost in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes. You lean up and Cassidy smashes your lips together in a wild and passionate kiss. Your hands went to wrap around Cassidy’s neck as his hand began roaming up and down your side, slipping under your shirt and massaging at the skin. His hands slide into your bra as he squeezes your tits causing you to gasp and that allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth. “Jump” he growls against your mouth as his hands lower to grab the backs of your thighs as you follow his command and wrap your legs snuggly around his hips.
He walks you both towards your bed before he drops you onto the bed. You bounce as your ass collides with the soft surface. Your body lights up as Cassidy scans your body as he towers over you. You reach up and grab him by the collar to drag him down to smash your mouths back together. His hands return to roaming your body before he begins to tug your shirt up. You take the hint and strip off your shirt. Cassidy immediately attacks your chest with nips and open mouth kisses. You arch your back to get more from pressure and attention from Cassidy’s mouth while his mouth travels down your stomach. You giggled when he reached your happy trail, he eyed you as he began to unbutton your jeans. You raised your hips to make it easier to pull your jeans and your panties off completely and Cassidy throws them haphazardly behind himself. Cassidy drapes your thighs over his shoulder as he begins to lay soft kisses and gentle bites along the insides of your thighs. He finally starts to lay kisses and kitten licks along your slit as your whines become full on moans at the pleasure you're receiving. His hands have a deadly grip on your hips keeping you bolted to the edge of the mattress meaning you can't do anything but lay there and take it as you start to be devoured. Cassidy’s kitten licks turn to long swipes of his tongue and his gentle kisses turn to toe curling pleasure as Cassidy sucks at your clit. Cassidy ate you out like a madman as you writhed and moaned below him. He eased a finger into you as you cried out his name, begging him for more. The coil in your abdomen tightened and tightened as Cassidy slid a second finger into you using his spit and your wetness as lubricant. He then begin scissoring and fucking you with his long, thin fingers. Knuckles nudging your G spot at the perfect pace as he thrust his fingers at an inhuman speed. “A-a-ahh C-Cassidy I’m g-onna c-cum” You cry out. Cassidy sucks on your clit to push you over the edge and you throw your head back.
You gripped his hair as you came down from your orgasm, you pull him up to kiss him and you groan as the taste of yourself fills your mouth. Your hands trail down his body as you tug at the hem of his shirt because him wearing any clothes is getting aggravating. He smirks at your need to see him naked as soon as possible. He grants your requests and you immediately attack his collarbone and chest with kisses and bites, he lets out a low moan when you suck on a sweet spot where his neck meets his shoulder causing him to suddenly grind into you. The feeling of his denim against your bare crotch caused a weird but euphoric rush to run through your body as he began fumbling with his jeans button. You place your hands over his in an effort to calm his nerves, you successfully get his jeans undone and he strips them off and throws them in the same direction that he threw yours. You had seen Cassidy without his shirt on before and you had seen him in wrestling trunks as well but seeing him towering above you in nothing but his boxers made you speechless at just how ungodly attractive he was. His slander build hid how much power and strength he had. You pulled Cassidy down to kiss him and you used this momentum to flip you both over so you were straddling Cassidy. Cassidy raises his hips to throw his boxers off, his hard dick stands up against his stomach and you grind against it for friction against your clit. He stills your hips by grabbing you and teasing your hole with his erection. You whined as Cassidy’s grip on your hips prevented you from sinking down on him.
Cassidy smirked up at you as he lined himself up and slowly lowered you onto himself. The girth of it begins to override your senses as all you can think about is the stretching feeling as Cassidy pushed himself to the hilt. You sit flush against his hips when Cassidy starts to shallowly thrust up into you and your moans turn to cries when his tip perfectly nudges against your G spot. You place your hands against his chest for leverage and you can feel his rapid breathing beneath your palms. His thrusts become violent as his cock starts to throb inside of you. His hands trail up your body to squeeze and tease with your tits as you rode his cock like there was no tomorrow. You could tell Cassidy was close to cumming by the bright red flush of his face and chest and the groans that were just now becoming audible as he increased in volume the closer to finishing he got. Your hips started to stutter as your body tensed with how close you were. Cassidy lets his hand fall back down your body as he starts to rub tight circles on your clit causing you to be pushed over the edge as the coil in your stomach snaps and a rush of electricity zaps through your body. You clench on Cassidy and it feels as if you milk him of every drop of cum as his cum shoots, hot and thick into you. The aftershocks ripple through both your bodies as you fall forward onto Cassidy.
After you both have caught your breath, you roll off of Cassidy to allow him to go to the bathroom. You can't help but stare at his bare ass as he walks away. You start to giggle before Cassidy turns back to you with a raised eyebrow. “I hate to see you leave, but i love to watch you go” He barks with laughter at what a horrible line that was. “You already got in my pants, you don't have to use bad pick up lines on me now.” You laugh at the savage rejection your brilliant line got. You stand on wobbly legs as you reach for a random shirt to wear to go to sleep in. Cassidy comes back from the bathroom with a washcloth and hands it to you and you wipe yourself off before throwing the cloth back towards the bathroom and curling up into bed. You notice Cassidy is still standing beside the bed not looking directly at you but darting his eyes around the room as if he's never been in a hotel before. You realize he’s debating whether to stay or go, so you make that decision for him by lifting up the blankets and patting the empty space. “Come on, cool guy, it's cuddle time.” He tries to hide it as he climbs in beside you but you see that small smile on his face as you pull him into your nest of comfort. “Hey Y/N?” you hear Cassidy ask after you turn the light off. “Yeah Orange?” your brows furrow slightly at what Cassidy could be gearing up to ask. “Are you wearing my shirt?” you breathe a sigh of relief at the simple question. “Um yeah” you say, gauging his reaction, silently hoping he's not mad. “Hm.. Cool” He pulls you closer as you start to fall asleep to the even beat of his heart.
#orange cassidy#orange cassidy imagines#aew imagines#aew#aew smut#wrestling#wrestling smut#best friends#Hangman Page
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