#i decided to step down from the student organization i started a year ago

[meowmedusa]

looking at the clock and going "oh. i didn't. even realize it was past 8pm." and its not funny or cool its just unbelievably concerning

[totaly-obsessed]

Nerves

Alessia Russo x reader request

-> Reader navigates the uncertainties of her career, academic studies, and the pressures of her first senior England camp, finding solace and comfort in her relationship

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

As a female football player your future career was not guaranteed - one wrong step and all this could be over. Your dream and passion since childhood days could be over.

Anxious as you were, you decided to do something on the side, educate yourself further, and so that it wasn’t as far off from your day job, you had started to study sports science two years ago. The choice of study had been made quickly, after all, you couldn't imagine a life away from the pitch.

Alessia, your girlfriend, stood fully behind you - ready to drive you to the few in-person lectures you had. The blonde would do anything for you. Washing dishes, doing the laundry, sweeping, cooking? One little smile from you and the housework-allergic striker turned into a housewife.

Being called up to your first-ever senior England camp had not been in the plans. Sure it was always something you thought about, especially when Less left for the camps, but you never thought that you would make it this far.

Your girlfriend however had a feeling that you would join her this time - and she was proven right when Sarina called you. The blonde jumped up and down in celebration, pulling you up with her. But once she saw the tears streaming down your face, you were in her strong arms, ready to dry them with her sweater.

The weeks leading up to camp were anything but relaxing - one exam after the other. And they wouldn’t stop for a couple of days either. 

Alessia had been watching you wear yourself thin, most days were filled with practice, media, recovery, and games. Nights were spent studying methods to reduce the risk of sports injuries and strategies for rehabilitating injuries when they occur as well as analyzing the social and cultural aspects of sports participation, organization, governance, and marketing.

If the half-Italian was honest, she didn't understand most of the things you were reading about. Making one flashcard after the other in desperate attempts to get it in your head as she watched the circles under your eyes darken.

The day you left for camp she had been hopeful that things would change from now on. You were out of the comfort of your home, confronted with new and old acquaintances and friends.

But of course, it didn't go as planned.

“Are you sure that you even have a girlfriend, Less?”

You had barricaded yourself in your room for the third evening in a row, trying to prepare for the last exam as well as you possibly could.

“We’ve been over this Tooney, just a few more days!”

The following Monday Alessia had woken you up early, shaking you softly as a paper stuck to your cheek. You had fallen asleep on the desk, and by the look of the untouched bed, this probably wasn't the first time either.

“Buongiorno amore mio, è ora di svegliarsi!” Time to wake up? No that couldn't be.

But a glance at the watch on the wall confirmed your girlfriend's words, you really had to get up now. “Thanks, Lessi.”

A soft peck on the lips later and your girlfriend was willing to help you get ready, or rather gather your things and pack your bag while you were in the bathroom. 

The car ride to your Uni had been peaceful. Just you and Alessia. It hadn't been like that for a while as you were always studying.

“I’m sorry for being a shit girlfriend lately, Less.”

The blonde's head snapped over so fast that you couldn't even blink. “Don’t you dare say that! You’ve been such a good student, and after this, I won’t let you go that easily.”

“Less, eyes on the road!” your clumsy girlfriend had filled with sudden rage at your guilt, headed straight towards a tree on the side of the road.

“Whoops.”

Alessia could see an immediate difference in you when you sat down in her car again. You felt happier. Not a single word was lost in regard to the exam when it had been all you could talk about before. 

While you felt freer you still looked and were incredibly tired, something even Tooney could see, who had been excited to get your lively person back. She missed her go-to person when Less was boring and wouldn’t run around like a crazy person with her.

So when you refused to play darts with her, clinging to your girlfriend on a couch, she was incredibly disappointed. 

“C’mon, I just got you back - play with me before you go back to fucking London!” But the brunette's whining just earned her a shove from her best friend.

“Leave us alone Ella.”

A whisper went through the room, everyone quietly watching as they glared at each other while you snuggled deeper into Lessi’s neck, desperate to sleep.

“No fair! You have her all the time!” She looked like a little kid whose toy had been taken away. And in a way it had been.

“I don’t care Ell-”

“Okay, off Ella!” It was Mary who pulled the angry chihuahua off Alessia's legs and now pointed up at the stairs, “You two, upstairs!”

The blonde didn’t hesitate and stood up, careful not to jostle you too much as she made her way up the stairs. Ella could only watch, mouth wide open, as you waved her goodbye, your head resting on your girlfriend's shoulder.

“You brat!”

[guysgoneexposed]

Surprising my Old Professor

After stripping butt naked on stage and quickly grabbing my jockstrap back on as I ran into the crowd, a hand slapped my bare ass and said "Good job kiddo". I turned and saw my very sexy professor from all those years ago. He offered to buy me a drink and I accepted. I'd spent twenty years drooling over him, and wondering what he was up to. Twenty years ago, when I mooned the entire crowd and he yelled my name, was the first time I realized he might be interested. All those years we'd flirted a bit online. Just checking in with each other, but nothing in real life. Tonight though, I was scantily clad, he was buying me drinks, and my desires were clear. He took me to his place and was a gentleman, but I was not. I told him everything I wanted to do, and he blushed, but admitted he wanted to keep our friendship intact. I argued we were adults, and could be friends with benefits. He said we should take it slow, and see where things go. I was a bit drunk, so I stole a kiss, but it was magical, he returned the peck with a hard kiss that showed me just how talented his tongue was before tucking me into his guest bed and asking me to meet him at his office for lunch the next day. I went from begging for some naughty fun, to drooling and dreaming in mere moments.

I woke up to a sweet note reminding me of his offer to meet him in his office and an empty house. I get up and take a nice long shower and grab some clothes that are a bit tight on me. Then I get to campus and find his office. He's teaching, but his assistant told me he was expecting me, and that I could wait in his office it should only be a few more minutes. His office is as organized as his house, but still full of personality. I decided to surprise him and show him how much I want to be more than friends. So I peel my clothes off, and decide to throw them in his little mini closet. I hear a voice and decide to make a strong pose of welcome, revealing all! The door handle opens and...

My huge smile quickly melts as I realize, he is NOT alone! I'm butt ass naked, cock dangling and dripping, in front of my sexy professor from.years ago and... His boss! I quickly grab a short stack of books to cover my cock, but the damage has been done. The look of shock on both of their faces, is quickly replaced with a smile on my professor's face, trying to recover the situation. "What's is going on?!?!" his boss says, my professor quickly introducing his boss and explaining that I am a bit early but that I am the nude model volunteering to pose for my classes this semester. I quickly apologize, but the boss looks lik he understands. "Oh, I see, I do remember you telling me about that project. If I recall, he is coming the entire semester for all six classes each week! Thank you for your willingness to volunteer, not everyone is so comfortable with their nudity to stand for hours on end in front of a revolving classroom of so many students". I nervously chuckle and smile. My professor says " let's go, my next class is about to begin". The next thing I know I am walking completely naked down the hall, taking the elevator, and then walking into a classroom full of young men. Just as we enter the classroom, my old professor grabbed the books in my hand and pointed to the stage. Lights illuminating every inch of me and nothing to hide behind. As my feet step onto the center, I hear a young man on the front row whisper to the classmate next to him "Hey, isn't that the guy who left with our professor from the club last night" and the other guy replied "Yeah, he's the naughty construction worker, I'd recognize his cock anywhere".

My professor follows me on stage and uses his hands to pose me, slowly stroking so much of my body. My cock starting to fill, right in front of everyone.

I guess the naked surprise was on me. Now I have an excuse to see him three times a week, (and to be seen and exposed three times a week) and he definitely knows I want more.

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 11

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, I do have a ko-fi! Or consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Eve threw her bag over her shoulders with little care for the aging straps. It sat heavily on her shoulders. The bulk of her laptop and textbooks weighed her down and reminded her of the ache in her lower back that she had initially earned from work.

Her keychains rattled as they smacked into one another and collided with her pins and buttons. A Tom Nook hit a Secret Police badge. An enamel coffee mug was assaulted by a Master Sword. All the plastic clinked together, echoing her nerdiness to the empty room. If she cared enough, she would think of herself as cringe. But she had too many other things on her mind to consider when she crossed the line from cool geek to weirdo.

“Are you feeling any better about any of this?” Leo asked.

“Kinda.”

It wasn’t the right answer. Leo didn’t look pleased that they were only in the “kinda” stage. He was so good at math, he was probably annoyed that she was taking so long to understand anything. Every time he had to go over a formula with her again or correct her steps, she felt she was burdening him. Even though he didn’t outwardly show it, she knew she had to have been the worst person in his life at the moment.

Leo was always passive in their study sessions. He corrected her without any sharpness in his tone. He would slowly erase her progress and tell her to try again, not ever giving her the answer.

But he was staying late for her. He could have been back in his dorm or his apartment or wherever rather than running through the same math problems over and over, correcting her, and re-teaching her how to work through formulas and watching her make the same mistakes over and over and over again.

“Better than I was feeling about it,” Eve said, hoping that would help her win some favor with Leo.

“When’s your exam again?” he asked.

“November 1st. Dr. Felner took major pity on me.”

But she was still going to try to be nice to Leo. He was the only other student she spent so much time with, and she was starting to feel a little kinship with him.

About a week ago, she passed him as he was leaving a campus coffee shop. He waved at her and smiled, and his smile felt familiar. Like she had seen it before. It was something about how it brightened his whole face or how his teeth were so straight it was like he should have been in an ad for braces.

After that, she thought maybe there was a chance that he didn’t totally hate her enough to ignore her. But then again, anyone would be in a good mood at noon, holding an iced coffee compared to 6 pm in a stuffy academic center.

Leo, she was sure, was nice and kind. She just always saw him with dark circles under his eyes after a long day of his own shit.

He pulled his own bag on. There was the rattle of his own keychains and pins. One keychain, an old thing, popped off its chain and bounced off the table.

“Noo!” Leo cried, tone way too dramatic for the impression he had already left on Eve.

Eve stooped to grab it off the carpet and handed it back. It had been a clean break. The chain had fallen out of its little nook in the plastic of the charm. There was a glob of dried hot glue on it where it had been repaired before.

“I like your Charmander,” she said.

Immediately, Leo brightened. He put it in the center of his palm and held it out to her so she could get a better look.

“Thanks!” It was the most expressive Eve had seen Leo since the coffee shop. He smiled again, and Eve could not place why it reassured her so much. “I got him from a claw machine. I spent, like, 20 bucks to get him.”

“You spent 20 dollars on that?”

“Yes! Look at him! He’s so cool.”

Eve nodded along with him. It was pretty cool. It was almost chibi-like and stood up perfectly on its own. The colors were vibrant but overall a little off and basic. Charmander’s body was a little too yellow. The flame on the tail was missing some depth. It looked like it could be unofficial merch in any of the many bogus restaurants in the city that stocked weird games and even weirder prizes.

But Eve had finally found a way to get Leo to say more than a few words to her. She was going to pounce.

“Do you play a lot of Pokémon?” Eve asked.

“Yeah!”

Eve slipped her bag off one shoulder and swung it around. She showed him her Ponyta keychain. She had gotten her from some mystery box from some store in New Jersey over the summer. While she wasn’t particularly a huge fan of Ponyta, she didn’t have enough money to buy another mystery box.

Alex had said it was cool when she brought it back to his apartment at the start of the school year. Ponyta had some good attacks. He secured it to her bag for her, and it stayed there ever since.

“Dope. Ponyta is pretty badass, but I’m personally loyal to the starters,” Leo said. His eyes caught something else. He pointed to the pink and orange rainbow pin on the front of her bag. “I like your rainbow.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Does it mean anything?”

Leo looked at Eve so earnestly, and Eve wanted to assume that he was a good guy, that he would have no problem if she told him it was lesbian pride colors. If she wanted to actually get to know him, he would have to know her. At some point, she would have to let him know that she was gay.

But she still froze. She didn’t know whether or not she should avoid the question, make up some lie about how she just liked rainbows, or that it was a reference to a movie or the emblem of a secret society on campus. She could tuck her secret away and hide it away until later. Until she was certain she wanted to tell him.

“Is it a gay thing?” Leo asked.

Eve could hardly breathe. It was a mistake to have the pin on there if she didn’t want to be asked about it. “Yeah.”

“What kind of gay thing?”

“What?”

“Like. Is it a special pride pin for October? Like breast cancer? I think that’s cool if that’s it.”

Eve shook her head. Did he really think the gays collaborated on merch with breast cancer awareness organizations? Did he think that queer people created different pins as special, limited-edition collectibles? It was kind of a cool idea but a bit too capitalist.

Her brief panic was instantly over. Damián looked at her so earnestly. It was like staring into the eyes of a Labrador Retriever. A young, clueless Chocolate Lab.

“No,” Eve said. “It’s the lesbian flag colors.”

“No shit? Lesbians have their own colors?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s dope!”

Leo looked excited to be learning so much. Eve was startled by the sudden switch. Only a moment ago it was like he wanted nothing to do with her. Regardless, her anxiety had easily melted away. Leo was okay. They had just needed a little nudge toward each other. They just needed Pokemon and gay pride to come out of their shells a little.

“I’m an ally,” Leo said, putting a hand to his chest.

“I can tell.”

“My brother’s gay.”

“Cool.”

“It’s super cool. And I love lesbians, too.”

Leo turned off the lights to the lounge of the academic center. It was where all tutoring sessions took place. There was comfortable seating for the students, snacks and coffee, and fancy tables with whiteboards as tabletops. During the day, it was pretty busy if only because people were swinging by for a morning or afternoon fix of caffeine.

In the evening, once all the real adults who worked there clocked out, it was eerily empty. The high ceilings imposed some feeling the opposite of claustrophobia. Something that reminded Eve of nightmares of drowning in an ocean with no land in sight.

“I also love trans people,” Leo said.

“You love the whole alphabet.”

“I do! So much!”

Leo held open the door leading out of the building. Eve stepped through it and down the few steps right outside. The campus was still lively. The sun was just starting to go down, and everyone was taking advantage of the last few warm evenings of the year. Girls whizzed by on skateboards, packs of seniors were carrying hammocks to try to find someplace on campus to hang them and then pretend to study. Really, they were all going to update their Instagram accounts.

“I really am an ally,” Leo said. “My brother’s taught me all this stuff about Stonewall and stuff. Have you heard of Stonewall?”

Eve wanted to sigh, but she could tell he wasn’t trying to be condescending. He was genuinely interested in talking about it. “Yes. I have. It’s pretty well-known among us gays.”

“I think it’s great. Throwing bricks and shit at the cops,” Leo went on. “I’d throw a brick for the LGBT community.”

“We’ll have to meme that. ‘Leo threw the first brick at Stonewall.’”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to take credit away from a black trans woman.”

Eve turned around. She was about to tell Leo that he didn’t have to worry. She was almost certain their meme would be harmless. It was like an inside joke with the LGBT community that she’d let him be in on.

But before she could say anything, she looked past Leo and at the picnic benches on the front lawn of the academic center. A group of boys sat at the one closest to her and Leo. They had textbooks out in front of them but were clearly not reading them.

Eve had a class with them. Though, that class was so big she didn’t know their names or anything about them besides the fact they usually sat a couple of rows ahead of her. She was one of the few girls in that class. Every day, they looked at her. At first, when they waved, she waved back. But as the semester went on, they’d look back at her and laugh and turn to one another.

It was hard to tell why they did all that. They could have been harmless, and Eve wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. It could have been playful teasing. Playground, recess-type stuff a parent or a teacher would brush off with just, “That just means he likes you.”

They watched her wait on Leo. She didn’t look directly at them but could still see them out of the corner of her eye. She stared straight ahead, grabbing the straps of her bag tight.

Leo joined her, gave her a look, and then turned towards the boys. When Eve started to walk away, the boys started shifting around in their seats.

It was probably nothing. They were probably just getting up to go back to their dorms. But Leo sidled up close to her, his Chocolate Lab eyes shadowed.

Leo towered over her. When they first met, she thought that he must have been an athlete on campus. He had to have been over six feet, making him a solid foot taller than her.

“Where do you live?” Leo asked Eve.

“Off-campus.”

He took her arm and pulled her down the sidewalk. “Do you live far?”

“No. It’s in walking distance.”

“I’ll walk you there.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t until they were on the edge of campus that Eve started trembling. She was reminded of all the times she had made it back to Alex’s apartment in tears, her phone in her hand, finger ready to dial Alex’s number.

It truly sucked how much power men had. They could make her feel unsafe, terrified even. Or, if they cared, they could protect her. Like Leo was doing. The only thing that could stop a man was another man. Even Alex, who was not at all intimidating with his stocky build and baby face, could ward off creepy comments just by standing next to her.

The whole thing burned her up inside, but all she could think, walking through the city, was that she was lucky Leo was one of the good ones.

“How are you liking your other classes?” Leo asked.

“They’re fine. It’s just calc that I’m struggling with. I don’t get why I even need to take it.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be well-rounded.”

“I guess not.”

“And math is more than just math. It teaches you how to deconstruct problems before you solve them.”

They walked for a while longer, their conversation dying. Eve eventually calmed down. She was thinking about what she was going to make for dinner, whether or not they had pasta or something frozen she could shove in the oven. Alex was always nice and made sure, whenever he did the shopping, that he picked up things that she liked and could cook with her limited culinary talent.

“You know, I’ve never seen you around campus before,” Leo said.

“It’s a big campus.”

“True.”

“And I’m only a sophomore. You’re a senior.”

“Yeah.”

Eve led him around a corner. He kept close as people walked past. An old woman walking her tiny dog. A couple in matching beanies. The least intimidating the city had to offer.

They passed a bookstore with a pride flag in the window. The rainbow stripes and the triangle were prominent in the window. The flag was creased still from the packaging. The plastic-y material would never let the crinkles go until they were properly steamed out.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight anymore for flags to be displayed in businesses or outside homes or apartments, but Leo still stared it down as they came up on it, met it, and left it behind until his neck was all twisted around.

“Um, about the ally thing,” Leo said. “Do you know anything about the ally group on campus?”

“The GSA?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen some stuff about it, but I don’t really know all that much about it. Are you part of it?”

“I go to the meetings. Most of the time. They have a Twitter if you ever want to see what they do.”

“Like things they do around campus?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they do stuff often?”

“Every so often, yeah. I think there’s something coming up this weekend.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a queer author visiting. She’s giving a lecture or something.”

“Oh! I’d go to that!”

“’Cause you’re an ally?”

“Exactly! Will you be there?”

Eve hadn’t been planning on it. She had worked last weekend and the weekend before that. She had been looking forward to time to veg out on the couch. Nothing seemed more appealing than playing video games until her eyes were crossed and there was a deep ache in her sockets. And hanging out with Leo outside of tutoring was a drastic step to be taken right after their first real conversation.

But she found herself saying yes to Leo, and she found herself listening to him excitedly go on about how he was going to tell his brother he was going to a GSA event.

It was just a lecture—not that Eve meant to downplay the importance of their guests, but it was low-key compared to everything else the group did around campus. It wasn’t like their drag shows or their Friends-giving every November. It was just a thing to show up to when you didn’t have any other plans and were feeling something insightful.

Eve agreed to meet up with Leo there. She pulled up the promotional flyer from their Twitter account and got Leo’s number to send it to him. Leo asked how early they should get there, and she said it wasn’t like a movie premiere. There would be plenty of seats. They could get there a few minutes early and be fine.

Leo dropped her off at the front of her building and waited for her to get through the doors before turning around and starting off toward his own destination. No doubt, he was feeling pretty good about himself. Not only did he befriend a lesbian, but he was going to a queer lecture. Truly the ally they all needed, Eve thought.

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.”

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

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

Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

[ofherlionheart]

zukka + 6? 😌

send me a prompt! || 6. "I want you to be a part of my future."

[edit: yeah this is boo chronicles ‘verse but y’all already knew that lol]

It’s a stunning spring day of clear skies and rustling green leaves, and Zuko’s stuck in a library for it. From the page in front of him, Butler’s words rise up and swirl meaninglessly into the air, as they have been every few minutes for the last hour. Zuko sighs and slouches to the left to find the straw of his lukewarm, no-ice cold brew with his tongue, taking a sip even though his body stopped responding to caffeine a few days ago.

Finals week is as annoying to suffer through the seventh time as it was the first time.

There’s a thunk on the end of Zuko’s desk, and he startles, nearly smacking his coffee across his work.

“Do you rotate every couple hours to make sure you’re getting enough sunlight?” Sokka asks.

Zuko safely relocates his coffee and eyes the box that Sokka’s dropped onto his desk. “I’m not a houseplant.”

“Really? You should take advantage of having legs, then.”

Zuko snorts. He can tell Sokka’s also a bit fried by finals week—especially since this is his eighth and final one, coinciding with a research thesis—because his quips are’t nearly as witty as they can be. “What’s in the box?” he asks.

“See for yourself,” Sokka replies, popping open the top flaps.

Zuko rolls his chair closer to peek inside. Immediately, he recognizes the soft leather casing, but he still reaches in to lift an edge and confirm that what he already knows is there is actually there. And, yes, there’s the soft glint of metal that Zuko expected.

“Why did you bring these to the library?” Zuko asks.

They’re knives. Not just any knives, but Sokka’s kitchen knives, a finely crafted and extremely expensive full set meant for the head chef of a high-end restaurant, not a college student who mostly makes stir fry and curry. Zuko’s a little obsessed with Sokka’s knives, not only because they’re objectively far superior to Zuko’s cheap, off-brand shit from the corner store, but also because they have a great story: when Sokka’s grandmother left her shitty ex-husband, she also walked out the door with Pakku’s gorgeous knife set, which she passed down to Sokka the year he left for college. Sokka, of course, promptly named them The Stabby Girls.

Sokka grabs a chair from an unoccupied table and drags it over to the side of Zuko’s desk, long legs sprawling enough when he sits for his foot to knock against Zuko’s ankle. “Decided to start packing early, since I’m leaving right after commencement,” he says. “Also, I’m avoiding thesis edits.”

“Uh-huh.” Zuko’s glad the final draft of his thesis was due a month ago.

“And as much as I love The Stabby Girls, it doesn’t make much sense to take them roadtripping.”

He starts playing with the edge of one of Zuko’s notepads, an idle movement to match the unhurried way he’s working through his explanation. Zuko wonders why Sokka’s still been popping up in his day-to-day the last couple weeks. Sure, they’re good friends by this point, but there’s only finals week, and then Sokka’s going to graduate and leave for this “epic roadtrip of epic proportions.” After that, who knows where in the world he’ll land for grad school. If there’s such thing as an organic ending to a friendship—which Zuko absolutely believes exists, seeing as he’s never really stayed friends with someone after they’ve been absent from his immediate day-to-day for longer than a year—this ending is the perfect example.

“I thought about asking Katara to take them, but she once tried to put Mama Stabby in the dishwasher, so that’s a no,” Sokka continues. “And then I realized there’s only one person I really trust to take care of The Girls, and that’s you.”

Zuko blinks. “You don’t want The Stabby Girls?”

“I mean, I want them back. But it doesn’t make sense to leave them in my car when I’m backpacking.”

Which, yes, Zuko understands, but … “You’re leaving them with me?’

Sokka nods, looking at him easily while still messing around with the notepad, as if this is all just very normal. “Yeah,” he says. It sounds a little bit like Obviously. “I’m planning on seeing you again. I want you to be a part of my future.”

“Oh.”

At that, an amused smile curls Sokka’s lips. “Oh?” he echoes.

“No,” Zuko splutters, though he doesn’t know what he’s negating. “I just …”

He really doesn’t know how to put words to the tumble of emotions that’s suddenly roiling around his gut, but he thinks it has something to do with declaring permanence—no, not permanence. Constancy? Continuity? Some sense of promise applied to a future that seems anything but certain. Legible? Visible?

Zuko needs to give his brain a break. “Have you had lunch?”

He pulls the box with The Stabby Girls closer to him, and he must be imagining the different twitch in Sokka’s cheek. “Not yet,” he answers.

“Let’s grab some.” Zuko stands, shutting his laptop and tucking The Girls under an arm. “I don’t think we should keep a box of knives in the library for that long, either.”

Sokka nods, heaving to his feat. “We can drop off The Girls at yours and then swing by Sullivan for food?”

Sullivan Street is a bit further out than Zuko was thinking, but hell, apparently Sokka’s regularly thinking about them way further out than he is. “Sounds good,” Zuko says and falls into step with his friend, cradling the box of knives against his chest.

[nugnthopkns]

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.

[lunaekalenda]

Hello! Congrats on your new milestone! For the movie event I am requesting 😣💕💰with either Gojo or Nanami. Thanks so much and congrats again!

hi! thanks sweet! i hope you like it and thanks for participating! 

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

action + couple + mafia feat. Satoru Gojo

cursing, blood, violence, kidnapping!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“Where?” He asks. The sunglasses he’s wearing make his looks even more intimidating. The man under his gaze is trembling, his hands tied up in both  sides of the chair. 

“i-I don’t know, Gojo.” The man says. Gojo clicks his tongue and looks at the man again, close, taking his sunglasses down. His clear blue eye looking directly to the man.

“I’ll ask one more time. Where?” his voice seems different. He’s angry. No, he’s definitely furious.

“I don’t know. Only my boss knows wh...” 

“Too much talking. Shut him up.” Nanami nods and Satoru walks around. He knows they kidnapped you, and he needs to know where you are. His hands impact against a near wall. “Fuck!”

It was just a moment. You where sleeping on his bed, all pretty and quiet. He got a call from Gakuganji, so he left the room. When he came back, after ten minutes, his bed was empty and the big window he closed yesterday to avoid your body getting cold was wide open. He called Nanami, who said that he didn’t saw you. After that, he worked hand to hand with Takuma , and he found a man in the security cams. It was easy for Nanami to search that one. Unfortunately, he appears alone, as if he was just a lure to cover the real crime: your kidnapping. Gojo revised all the security cams, he called you a hundred times and tried to search between his contacts someone that wouldn’t doubt to harm you to manipulate him. That night, Megumi came late home. He found Gojo sitting on a chair in the main salon, his white hair down and his glasses on the table. Also, he wasn’t wearing his blindfold. Megumi got closer to him, taking off his earbuds. 

“Everything fine?” He asks. Gojo looks at him, his eyes red because of the tiredness and the incansable search. Yuji enters behind him. 

“Hi, sensei!” he says, but his tone changes when he finds Gojo alone. “Where’s y/n?” he asks. It’s difficult to find Gojo without you, specially on this kind of lazy evenings when he usually is at home. Gojo looks up to them, the two boys inquiring with a curious gaze.

“I don’t know. Someone just took them away from me.” The adult says. Yuji looks concerned to Megumi, that is frozen. They took you away from him? From the most powerful man out there? They had the courage to do it? 

Since you and Gojo started your relationship, several years ago, Megumi always saw in you someone to rely on. He liked to talk to you and you liked to spend time with him. You also know how proud of him Gojo is. How he always smiles whenever Megumi’s name is heard. 

You know the two of them have a really close bond, as if they were family. Also, he’s really close to two new students of the dirty negotiations of the mafia: Nobara and Yuji, the boy with the tattoos. they are there to learn how to negotiate, how to make things really money-maker business. That’s his work, after all. He also shows them how to fight, how to take care of themselves in difficult operations.

“They kidnapped y/n?” Yuji asks, his eyes open with surprise. Megumi remains silent while Gojo nods, waiting to hear the story. Gojo tells them, without entering in too much details. Saying that you’re no longer next to him makes it even more real and painful. Megumi listens and analyzes every word he says. Yuji looks at his sensei, concerned. Megumi talks while he takes out his phone, calling Nobara.

“Call Nanami. I think we have to beat up a blue-haired bastard.”

Megumi’s brain worked as fast as ever while Gojo talked. His mind found one person capable of doing that thing: Mahito, the mafia leader that was behind you all this time. Since you have choose Gojo, Mahito never accepted that. So, he decided to kidnap you. It was crystal clear for him. Gojo calls Nanami as fast as he can, and Nanami agreed to take Nobara with him. That’s how the man and the girl arrived together.

“What’s the plan?” she asks, taking off her jacket. “I’m up to everything since that asshole took my best friend far from me.”

Nobara loved to take you with her and go shopping or to the cinema. She always complains that the only one who does that is Maki, and she needs to be in a good mood. So, finding you taking some tea for Gojo after his classes makes her pout to him if you can accompany her, having always the same response.

“That doesn’t depend on me, have you asked y/n if they want to go?” 

Gojo isn’t overprotective towards you, even tho he always tries to have an eye of you, because he knows how dangerous it can be for you to be the partner of a mafia head. But, even when he was praying to end early his classes to be with you, giving you a hundred cuddles and a lot of attention, Nobara was always behind you to ask permission. He couldn’t say no -after all, it was your decision, and you also needed to have a life apart of him.- but he was wiling on the inside to hear a no form your mouth.

It rarely happen, since you felt a lot of sympathy towards the only first-year girl.

Now, as Yuji and Megumi, she was ready to risk all to take you back. To them. To him.

Megumi has been to the Mahito’s place before, in another mission, when he was just eleven. Gojo thought that taking it with him could be a nice training for the boy, and it was. He learned how to pick doors and give side-kicks. 

“Yuji, Nobara and I will bother and, if necessary, kill the guards outside. Nanami can help you inside. I put an alarm in our group chat. When Gojo leaves the radio of 1 kilometer from the mansion, we all run. We’re faster than his guards, they’re big and less quick. They’re made for using strength, not for running.  We’ll reunite in the backyard.”

They all nod. Once they are there, Gojo enters quietly, using the balcony to go up fast, followed by Nanami.

“Search Y/N.” Nanami whispers once the two of them are up. Gojo is forcing the window. “I’ll make guard.”

Gojo nods and enters. Nanami takes out his short dage. Mahito’s room is in front of him. You’re inside, sitting on a corner, the blue haired man looking at you with a creepy smile.

“I’m not going to bite you. But I guess you like it, since Gojo likes to mark all his fucking toys.” The way he was talking, cursing and joking, with such a smile made things even more creepier. It’s true that Gojo liked to give you hickeys, and you thought that letting him mark you last night, in such a place like your neck, wasn’t a help now. Mahito let out a little laugh. “I guess someone came to help you. Should we receive him as he deserve, hm?”

Mahito takes a little knife he has on his desk. You know perfectly that Gojo doesn’t has weapons. He always fights only using his strength and known marcial arts techniques. You didn’t like that about him, how he was sure he didn’t need a weapon because “he’s the strongest.” But well, he won all the fights he has been into, so maybe he is the strongest.

Gojo opens the door quietly, without showing any hint that he’s nervous and desperate to have you between his arms again. Mahito lets out a little laugh.

“Here you are, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo smiles quietly, a superior smile that was always followed by one of his kicks. This time wasn’t different. 

His long leg impacted against Mahito’s, taking him to the ground, and making him lose his knife. Gojo steps on his hand when he tries to reach the knife.

“Such a good weapon for a bad assassin.” Gojo says. The knife shines. Gojo looks at you.

“Love, could you look to another place? I have to teach him how we treat trash like him.”

You weren’t seeing, but you could hear the kicks and the spits of Mahito on the ground, probably taking blood out of his mouth. The fight ended sooner that you thought, and you felt a soft caress in your head. When you looked to the front, Gojo’s body covered Mahito. He looked at you in the eyes, taking his blindfold apart a little bit. You felt like home when your arms found his neck.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You nod, crying. He was there, and you where with him again. He kisses your head. 

“Yes.”

“Let’s go home, then.” Taking you on his arms, Gojo makes his way home. The rest appear not long after, all tired, but smiling just knowing you’re safe again.

Gojo invited all of them to have dinner, but you decided to go to bed. That’s how Nanami ended as a host of a dinner he didn’t organize and taking care of some teenagers. Gojo sits on his side of the bed, near you, and your body leans to find his.

“I was so scared. I thought I’ve lost you.” he says, his voice being even less than a whisper. “I didn’t kill him. You know that’s not my style. And my priority was having you back.” He looks at you again, how your eyes start to drop tears. He kisses you so sweetly and softly that you don’t want it to end. 

“I was also scared, but you saved me. Thanks.” he smiles, passing his thumb on your cheeks.

“I’ll save you the times you need it, my love”

[stxrrywildflower]

family

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you never knew something so good could come out of something so bad

warnings - kidnapping, injuries, cursing

word count - ?

requested by @marvelxmendes

by the urgency of hotch’s message, the team knew they were in for a tough case.

another key factor in their suspicions was the fact that garcia was seated, not presenting the case. instead, hotch stood with the remote in his hand, a serious look on his face.

“four bodies have been found in indianapolis. all of the victims have been either teenagers or young adults. another person was just taken, nineteen year old victim. the time between the abductions and killings have been becoming shorter. wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced. 

with that, the team grabbed their bags and took off to the airport. the flight over was spent reviewing the case and bouncing possible theories. emily and rossi were sent to talk to the victim of boy who was just taken. hotch and j.j. were due at the police station while morgan and spencer were going to the latest crime scene.

just hours into their individual assignment, the body of the latest victim was found. the unsub wasn’t slowing down and if anything, was becoming more and more violent.

examining the body was incredible difficult for everyone. the local police had all refused as the boy killed was very active in the local community. hotch and rossi remained at the station while the other agents headed out to the crime scene.

“victim was david mitchell. he was staying with his mom. she worked almost all day,” one of the cops informed.

“well the unsub is obviously going after people who are alone. makes it a lower risk,” morgan concluded.

after a few more minutes of examining the body, the team all headed back to the police station. they didn’t have a ton of information to go off of. all they knew was that they needed to act quickly or else more people would die.

____

stepping into your home, you used your foot the close the door behind you as your arms were filled with groceries. the only sound throughout the house was your shoes scuffing against the floor.

you were only 17 and a senior in high school. your parents ‘worked’ leaving you alone almost all of the time. they had people check in on you and showed up sometimes, making it semi-legal. it had started a year and a half ago. you were shocked at how quickly you adjusted to being alone all the time. honestly, it didn’t feel much different then when they were actually around.

as you turned on the tv to the local news station, you began putting the groceries away. “in regards to the recent murders, the fbi have arrived and are working with the police to catch this criminal. all residents are advised to be on the look out for any suspicious activity and keep their doors locked at all times,” one of the reporters spoke. you peered around the doorway, double checking that your doors were in fact locked.

once you put everything away, you headed upstairs to your room. in an hour, you were due to meet a classmate for a study session. if you were being honest, you didn’t really need a whole study session. you were already accepted to georgetown in washington d.c. for college with a pretty large scholarship. however, you were always willing to help someone study.

it was when you opened your closet and looked in the mirror that you noticed the presence of a figure in the corner of your room. you could barely turn around before the masked figure was rushing towards you. his hand clamped over your mouth. “you scream, i take this knife and stab you. you hear me?” he whispered harshly.

tears began to flow freely down your cheeks. in an effort to save yourself, you bit down on his hand hard. the man was wearing latex gloves allowing for you to tear through them. a metal taste was then in your mouth, letting you know that you had broken the skin.

the man clutched his now bleeding hand, allowing for you to slip out of his grasp. you took off running towards the door. just as you thought you would finally be able to escape, a sharp pain in your shoulder stopped you.

you fell to the ground, screaming as you clutched your shoulder. the man pulled the knife out of your body just as you fell. “fucking bitch,” the man spat. he then raised his foot and kicked you hard in the head, knocking you unconscious.

the local police chief rushed in, clutching a phone in his hand. the teams eyes all darted up. “we think the unsub may have another girl. a local student just called in about y/n y/l/n. they were supposed to study together but y/n never showed,” he informed everyone. “she could have just forgotten,” morgan offered.

“y/n isn’t like that. kid’s had a tough life. but, she’s a straight-a student, set to be valedictorian, and always helps any kids who need help. hell, she’s even helped my son in math,” the chief replied.

“tough life?”

the chief nodded, “her parents work almost all the time. they pop in every once in awhile but y/n is basically on her own. friends and neighbors always check in on her to make sure she’s okay.”

“all right, we’ll all head over to her house. try and find out anything we can. it’s the only lead we have right now,” hotch ordered.

after arriving at your house, the team exited their cars and made their way up to the front door. j.j. stepped forward, knocking on the door. they waited all of two minutes before agreeing to enter. suprisingly, the door was unlocked, adding to the teams growing suspicion of your kidnapping.

spencer, morgan, and emily all headed up the stairs while the other three agents took the first floor. “we have blood!” morgan called as soon as he entered the bedroom. the team regrouped upstairs. blood was on the floor right by the door.

“signs of struggle,” emily spoke as she kneeled down, “it’s fresh.”

“well we know the percentages of kidnappings with minors. take a room and find out more about y/n’s life,” hotch once again gave out orders.

j.j. and emily found themselves in the hallway leading to the living room. “look, there’s no family photos. not even any in the past. all of them are of y/n, her friends, and then accomplishments,” j.j. pointed out.

that was common throughout the house. every room had the basic furniture but but besides that, it didn’t feel like a true home. even your room was incredibly bare. “hey look at this,” emily called, taking one of the frames off the wall.

“an acceptance letter to georgetown. practically a full ride,” emily said as she handed the frame over. “what have you two got?” rossi asked, entering the room. “she’s incredibly smart. already had plans for college. other than that, this house lacks any family value.”

“same for upstairs. everything has been modified for a single person living here,” rossi added.

“we need to find her,” j.j. blurted, her heart already aching for you. obviously, with the fact that you were currently in the hands of a killer but also with your current life. growing up with parents barely in your life was tough, no doubt. by the looks on the faces of the team, they all felt the same way.

when you woke up, your entire body ached. your head was pounding, no doubt from being knocked unconscious with a swift kick to the head. through your blurred vision, you managed to make out your surroundings. the room itself is was a simple square, no windows with concrete floors and walls. you were tied a metal chair which was then bolted to the ground.

naturally, you began to thrash around. you instantly regretted it as your shoulder began to throb once again, the stab wound still bleeding slightly. the ropes that retrained your hands grinder against your skin, creating burns on your skin. your body felt like it was on fire.

“don’t get to comfortable girl,” a new woman called, making you jump slightly, “the fun hasn’t even started.”

the team worked almost nonstop for three days. for a short period of time, they had thought the unsub had already killed you. however, they had received a lock on your hair, letting them know that you were in fact alive.

it was around 10pm when they had a break in the case. garcia had been doing excessive digging and somehow managed to find a warehouse. it was only secluded location in the area which was the best lead they had. after putting on their vests, the team quickly got into their cars and began the drive.

your head hung loosely, no strength was left in you to even pick it up. your eyes were slits, only open enough to see the floor below you. the once grey color was now stained red from blood. some areas were slightly darker, due to the fact that you were practically waterboarded. the stab wound in your shoulder was even worse now. hours ago, you had lost feeling in it entirely.

it turns out you were taken by a man but he was apart of a pair. the man had sat back and watched while the woman tortured your excessively. she only showed up for a few hours while the man stayed with you 24/7.

various cuts, some shallow and some deep, littered your body. a concussion was already inevitable, as you have had one since the first day you had been taken. your left wrist was no doubt broken. the woman had decided to experiment with hammers. your hand was the first thing she hit.

when the sirens had began blaring outside the warehouse, the mans face shifted to panic before completely changing back. “one more for good measure,” he smirked, grabbing a large knife from the rack. suddenly, he plunged the knife into your side. thankfully, he didn’t hit any major organs. blood gushed out of the wound, now soaking your shirt. you couldn’t even cry out, all you could do was hope that the sirens got to you in time.

a cloth was harshly placed over your mouth before being tied around the back of your head, silencing you. the man then pulled your hair, bringing your head up to face the door. “they may get me but they will never get her,” he whispered harshly. your eyes widened at knowing your one kidnapper would still be at large.

the doors suddenly slammed open. two women rushed in, one blonde the other with dark hair, along with two men, one extremely muscular and the other as skinny as a twig. the cold metal tip of a gun was pressed into the side of your head. fear coursed through you.

“put it down,” the muscular man ordered.

the gun was jammed further against your head. pain exploded as your already damaged head was hurt yet again. the muffled discussion between the fbi agents and the man went on for a few more moments.

finally, the man stepped back. you thought that it would be over and you would finally be saved. however, the man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards the agents.

the bullet wizzed passed your ear, creating a ringing that no doubt made your ears bleed. another wave of pain exploded from your left ear as well as your head. turns out that the bullet had grazed your ear and head, making more blood flow. another gunshot sounded, the man behind you dropping dead.

the realization that you almost just died finally set in. your eyes widened once again as your breathing became heavier and faster. the one blond woman rushed over and went to untie your legs. a burst of adrenaline came over you as you did everything in your power to push her away. when the cloth around your mouth dropped, you let out a loud sob as tears freely flowed down your cheeks.

“get away, get away!” you screamed as you jerked around.

the blonde woman’s face fell. she stepped back to stand by the other woman. hesitantly, the two male agents stepped forward.

“hey, i’m agent morgan and this is doctor reid. i’m going to take this ropes off of you. is that okay?” morgan asked. you nodded, pressing your lips together. as morgan went to begin to untie the ropes, reid kneeled down beside you.

“help is on the way. but now i need you to breath with me,” reid started, motioning with his hands to get you to follow his breathing pattern. you did as he said, your eyes still continuing to dart around the room. “he can’t hurt you anymore,” reid reassured you.

you jumped again. “p-” was all you could get out before a series of coughs racked your body. your uninjured hand clutched your side. morgan kneeled down beside reid. “what?” he asked.

“partner,” you slurred, eyes finally closing as you fell unconscious.

the second you passed out, morgan and reid immediately went into action. morgan layed your body to lie on the floor as he started applying pressure to your hip. spencer moved your head into his lap, his knee against your shoulder to help with the injury there while his hands were pressed against your head. “you think she has a head injury?” morgan asked.

spencer nodded, “definitely.” meanwhile, emily and j.j. rushed outside to find hotch and rossi. “unsub is dead. y/n is hurt pretty bad but she mentioned a partner,” emily informed the other two agents. “it’s most likely a woman. she freaked out when i went near her but are much better with reid and morgan,” j.j. added, “most likely a dominant and submissive type.”

the ambulance pulled in a minute later. the emt’s rushed in, your body being placed on a stretcher and moved out of the building quickly. the team regrouped outside of the warehouse, all at a stand still on what to do.

“alright, emily and i will head back to the police station. you four go to the hospital. we’ll need to interview y/n after she is treated,” hotch ordered. from there, they all went there separate ways.

at the hospital, you were rushed into a quick surgery to repair both your hand, and stitch up the stab wounds as well as the other cuts on your body. it only took three hours after your initial admission for you to be back to your room and set to wake up any minute.

the four agents stood outside of your room, glancing in through the window to where you were. “poor kid,” morgan spoke. “have you had any contact with her parents?” reid asked from his seat.

j.j. shook her head, “yes and no. the first time i called when she was first taken they didn’t even pick up. just now they did answer but said they wouldn’t come home.”

rossi scoffed at that answer. “can’t that be classified as child neglect?” the senior agent questioned. “she isn’t 18 yet, not a legal adult,” morgan piped in.

“all i know is that y/n can’t be under their care anymore,” rossi concluded.

“what are you thinking?”

rossi shrugged, “not sure yet. we just need to wait for her to wake up. then we can talk.”

twenty minutes later, you began to stir. in an instant, nurses entered your room, changing out your iv’s and helping you wake up properly. they left you alone for a few minutes before the team would come in, no doubt to interview you.

you toyed with the fabric of your hospital blanket as the door opened. in walked morgan and reid since they were the most familiar. “hey y/n, how are you feeling?” reid asked.

“whatever they gave me is helping. thanks for saving me,” you smiled slightly. “it’s what we do. now there’s two of our agents outside. they aren’t going to hurt you. is it alright is they come in two?” morgan asked, his voice soft.

nodding, you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up better. the woman from before and an older man were the next in your room. “hi y/n, i’m emily and this is dave,” she introduced. you instantly felt a lot more comfortable around the people in your room. your eyes flickered down to your casted hand before looking back up.

“what do you want to know?” you asked quietly.

“what can you tell us about the woman who hurt you?” emily asked. you visibly flinched when she mentioned the woman. “i think her name is ashlyn. i overheard them talking. she-” you got choked up slightly. after taking a deep breath, you continued, “she did most of the beating and torture. he just stayed with me and watched.”

rossi sat down in the chair by your bed. “we are going to do everything in our power to find her. i promise,” he spoke. “you promise?” you questioned. “i promise,” rossi reassured you.

you were released from the hospital the next day. the team was still in town as the second unsub had yet to be caught. j.j. was in the room with you while you were getting ready to go. the memories were still slightly blurry but you had apologized profusely about screaming at her. the profiler and brushed it off, saying that it was okay. just after slipping your t-shirt on, you turned to the woman.

“my parents?” you asked.

“i tried calling them-,” j.j. started. as soon as you heard her words, you broke down. “of course they’re not here,” you seethed. j.j. shot you a sympathetic look. “they’re never here. i need them and they leave me in the fucking dust!” you yelled, allowing yourself to curse them out.

you collapsed against the bed as you began sobbing. all your emotions combined with everything that had happened in the last few days came out. j.j. stepped forward hesitantly, moving to sit beside you much to your suprise, she hugged you. you rested your forehead on her shoulder, feeling instant comfort from having someone there for you.

back at your home, reid and morgan stayed with you with the other agents visiting and checking up on you. hotch was the one you had seen the least. after introducing himself, he had to leave pretty quickly due to something about the case.

it was almost two in the morning when you were gently shook awake. with tired eyes, you turned on your lamp to see morgan and reid already dressed and putting on their vests.

“did you find her?” you asked, incredibly hopeful.

morgan nodded, “we have a lead. we all need to be there though. but i do have someone for you to talk to while we are gone.” you shot the agent a questioning look as he handed you a phone. “hello?” you spoke tentatively.

“oh my gosh hi sweetie! my names penelope. derek has been telling me a ton about you,” the woman on the other end greeted.

you instantly smiled at penelope’s voice. as the two of you began talking, morgan and reid slipped out of the room.

when they returned, you were in the kitchen, still talking to penelope and getting a glass of water. “we got her,” reid revealed. you gasped, your hand moving up to your mouth. as a natural reaction, you hugged the agent as a thank you.

you were now finally safe.

the team stayed in town for two more days. they may have lied a bit to do their paperwork there but the real reason was to keep an eye on you. when it was time for time for them to depart, you had almost cried.

after hugging each agent individually, you stepped back onto the foyer of your home, rubbing your fingers over your cast. rossi, however, remained behind. you turned towards the older man, confusion written over your face.

“are you staying?” you asked.

he nodded, “i have a few vacation days. the doctor didn’t recommend leaving you alone.” deep down, you were greatful for his presence.

one night, after a traditional italian dinner, rossi sat you down. “i know this is a sensitive topic for you but we need to talk about it,” he started, “you cannot he under the care of your parents anymore. it’s child neglect and you are not safe there. now, you’re almost 18 and heading to washington d.c. in just a few months. how would you feel about being put under the care of one of us on the team?”

after noticing your slight uneasiness with the question, rossi spoke up again, “i know you’ve only known us for a short period of time but i’m going to be honest. we don’t get cases involving teenagers a lot. we just want you to be safe.”

tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. you couldn’t help it honestly. knowing that there were people out there that actually wanted you to be safe and take care of you made you extremely emotional. “i would love that,” you concluded.

____

the team is as incredibly active in your life from that moment on.

they had suprised you at your graduation, cheering for you as your name was called and after your valedictorian speech. when the official procession was over, you had practically ran over to them, accepting hugs from all.

a week after that, you were put officially under rossi’s care. your birthday wasn’t for another two months making the process easier. with the information presented to the jury, it was no doubt that your parents were deemed unfit to take care of you anymore. you cried when the judge had made it official, hugging rossi over and over as you thanked him.

just two weeks later, you had packed up your things and made the official move to washington d.c. the house remained under your parents name. all you packed was all of your clothes, personal items, and toiletries. there wasn’t a single thing in that house that was yours.

when rossi showed you your room with the promise that you could decorate it anyway you wanted, you hugged him once again. it almost felt like you were starting over and you were extremely thankful for that.

despite him and the team being away often for cases, rossi has always called to check up on you. team dinners became more and more frequent with you meeting the teams extended family also. you eventually became the go to babysitter for henry and jack.

sure there were countless nights you had woken up crying, memories about your kidnapping coming back to you. rossi or whoever was around was always there to comfort you and help you calm down. the past two months were a mess but having the team by your side to celebrate all of your little victories and help you overcome your challenges almost made it all better.

they were your family after all.

[221bshrlocked]

Starstruck (3)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Words: 5051

Warnings: Masturbation. Caught in the act kinda thing. Oral (female receiving). Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong). More science-y, kinda romantic talk. Fluffy Beck. 

Summary: It’s the holidays and everyone’s gone for Christmas but you’re still stuck in school because you need to retake your final since the professor was nice enough and didn’t want to fail you. It just so happened that there is a sciences expert living in the same house as you, one that you’ve never spoken to before. Things get interesting when he offers to help you out, but what’s in it for him?

Prompt: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A/N: We’re going to pretend that part 2 wasn’t posted two years ago. God I’m so happy I finally finished this. Chris Beck will always hold a special place in my heart. I hope you liked my rendition of one soft college space nerd. You can catch up with the two other parts here and here. Please let me know how I’m doing in the comments. This isn’t beta’d btw.

Read Previous Part Here

Had it not been for the exam you were terrified of, you would have probably allowed yourself to enjoy every minute you spent with Chris a little bit more. True to his word, Chris was available to answer any and all of your questions, no matter the time of day. He even convinced you to go out with him a couple of more times when he saw how stressful your days were. Between memorizing formulas and solving chemistry problems, you were sure this was the worst week of your life. 

But then you remembered how much Chris made you laugh and you realized that had it not been for this exam, you wouldn’t have been able to spend time with him. And you hated how absolutely adorable he was, just the right amount of dorky and sexy. When the day of the exam arrived, Chris walked with you to the professor’s office, telling you he was sure you were going to pass it and that you just needed to trust yourself. He was about to walk away when the door of the office opened and out came your professor, Dr. Daniels. 

“Hey Chris, I haven’t seen you since your undergrad years. How long has it been?” Chris shook his hand and you could only stand there awkwardly as they struck up a conversation.

“I think two years maybe, I’ve been meaning to email you actually. But we can talk about that later.” Chris smiled before turning to you and wishing you good luck.

“Oh you know Y/N?” Dr. Daniels pointed to you and you nodded at the question. 

“Uh yeah we live in the same house.” You wondered why Chris didn’t tell him he was helping you out but you didn’t think too much of it.

“I tell you, if you’d asked him for help, then this would have been the easiest two hours of your life.” Dr Daniels said to you, laughing and watching as you looked at Chris for a moment before turning back and responding to him.

“Actually, Chris here has been helping me out for the past week. I’m really lucky I found him.” You refused to look at Chris after your little comment, afraid you’d said too much in front of him. 

“Oh well in that case, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Come on in, the quicker you start, the quicker you can finish and enjoy your break with Chris...and I’ll see you later.” Dr. Daniels motioned for you to step inside his office before walking behind you and nodding at Chris. 

“Yeah, it was nice catching up with you.” Chris waved at him, his eyes never leaving you as you set up your calculator and pencils on the desk. You looked back just in time to see him smiling at you before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away. You took a deep breath before looking down at the exam packet, writing your name on the blue book and flipping the first page to begin your nightmare of an afternoon.

Two hours later, you put everything in your bag and stood up, reluctantly walking to Dr. Daniels desk before turning it in.

“So, how are we feeling this time around?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I think it’s better than last week. Once again, thank you so much for giving me the chance to do better. I can’t begin to tell you how much of a difference this makes.”

“Please, it’s nothing. I don’t understand why, to this day, they allow students who aren’t going in the field to take this level of Organic Chemistry. It makes no sense to me so anything to help you out and get back at the school.” He chuckled, flipping through the pages of handwriting before placing the blue book on top of his pile of exams. “I’ll email you your grade by the end of the night just so you don’t have to worry about it during your break. And good luck with everything else, it was a pleasure having you in class.” 

“Thank you so much Dr. Daniels. Enjoy your break and Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas.”

You exited his office, quietly shutting the door behind you before turning around, only to bump into someone. “Oh sorry I didn’t s- Chris! W-what’re you doing here?” You stared at him like he grew a second head, not sure why he was standing right outside the office.

“I got us hot chocolate to celebrate you acing that final!” He handed you your cup and walked ahead of you. You stared at the cup in your hands then back at him, amazed that he was somehow still single. 

“Oh wow thank you, you didn’t have to.” You took a long sip of the drink, wanting to hide behind your up for a little.

“Of course I did. So umm, do you have any plans tonight?” Chris cleared his throat before looking at his shoes.

“Not really no. Dr. Daniels said he’d get my grade by the end of the night so I was just going to spend the rest of my day on my bed, trying not to cry because I probably didn’t do well. No offense to your impeccable tutoring skills.” Humor was your defense mechanism but Chris didn’t think what you said was funny, stopping abruptly before turning and facing you.

“Listen, you understood everything I explained and you did good in there. Give yourself some credit. And since you’re doing nothing, then I think we should go have dinner and watch a movie.” He rambled through that last bit and you blinked confusingly at him before nodding in agreement. Chris continued to walk, opening the door of the building for you and waiting until you exited before following behind you.

“I- sorry, I meant to ask you to dinner, n-not force you into it. If you don’t want to go that’s fine I just-”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” You cut him off, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. It took Chris three seconds to look down and smile at you before tripping over his words again. You sighed in relief and patted yourself on the back for the moment of bravery. 

“Great t-that’s great. You’re really great.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth, and it only worsened when you noticed him blush.

“I’m sorry I promise I’m not laughing at you...I just think it’s adorable that you’re a genius who managed to say ‘great’ three times in a row. No other adjectives in your dictionary right now?” Chris’ embarrassment was more evident now and you hated that you couldn’t stop teasing him. He looked so cute trying to hide from you and you wanted to see him blush again.

“Well, I would be capable of using other adjectives to describe how happy I am right now had it not been for a certain pretty girl who actually agreed to go out with me…” Whatever you thought he would say, that was the last thing that came to mind and you pretended you weren’t jumping up and down in your mind because did he really just call you pretty?

“What’s the matter Y/N? Cat got your tongue?” There was a hint of flirtation in his tone and you rolled your eyes at him, knowing fully well that he could see your reaction to his words. You walked in silence the rest of the way, occasionally catching each other staring before giggling and clasping your hands a little tighter. When you did reach the house, Chris was first to walk in, telling you that he had no patience for the rest of your house mates. No one was in so the two of you sat in the living room and played cards. 

Neither of you watched the time and you only noticed how many hours went by when you heard the familiar bell of the church on campus strike six times. You were hysterically laughing at Chris telling you about how he had to scrub down his friend during a Chemistry lab one time because he tripped and spilled some random chemical on his hands. It wasn’t acidic thankfully but they still had to follow protocol and Chris made sure his friend would never let it down.

“Oh god is that the time already? Listen, we should go get dressed to make it in time for the last showing of the night.” Chris collected all the cards and stood up, pulling you along with him and guiding you upstairs.

“I’ll be ready in fifteen.” You reached your room and ran inside, afraid you’d do or say something stupid about how much you enjoyed the day. Shutting the door, you frantically ran around your room, trying to decide on something cute to wear. You finally paired a long-sleeve shirt with a skirt only to see Chris’ NASA sweatshirt lying on your couch. Picking it up, you took a deep breath and walked to his room to give it to him. When you saw the door was open, you knocked softly and walked in, looking around to see where he was. 

Maybe he went downstairs to grab something...

Leaving the sweatshirt on his chair, you turned around to leave only to find an almost naked and incredibly wet Chris standing in front of you and drying his hair. You tried so hard to not let your eyes go below his neck but you couldn’t, watching as a few droplets of water rolled down his chest, almost as if they were inviting you to go and lick them off. 

When you did finally meet his eyes, you saw a faint blush take over his cheeks and neck.

“Did you need anything?” His hands dropped from his head and he looked around to see if you might have left something in his room by accident.

“I uhh, there was this thing- I mean I found your ummm….s-sweatshirt…I had your sweatshirt and I just wanted to return it.” You looked everywhere else but him, silently waiting for him to kick you out of his room or call you out for going inside without his permission.

“Thanks,” Chris could tell how much you were affected by him and he wasn’t a vain person, not really, but he felt so proud of the hours he spent in the gym because to have you looking at him like that was a dream come true. He could tell how embarrassed you were and decided to end the awkward moment, moving aside and continuing to dry his hair. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” You whispered before, quite literally, sprinting out of the room and into yours. The door was slammed shut behind you by accident and you hated how shamelessly obvious you were in front of him. Waiting for a few seconds, you moved around the room to try and even out your breath. You felt a sudden chill go down your body and you didn’t realize what you were doing until you were laying down on your bed and pulling the skirt down your legs. Shutting your eyes, it took seconds to conjure up the image of Chris in nothing but a towel, his hair wet and dripping down his impressive chest. You bit your lower lip and moved your panties to the side, sucking on your fingers before reaching down to your slit.

You slowly circled your clit, applying enough pressure to get you wet before inching your middle finger inside your aching core, sighing as you pictured Chris’ hands instead, his blue eyes taking you in as he brought you pleasure. Spreading your thighs a little wider, you increased your pace and imagined his cock teasing your entrance and coating himself with your juices. You knew you had to be quick because the last thing you wanted to do was miss spending more time with him. Throwing back your head, you moaned his name over and over again as you felt yourself reaching that little high. 

But before you could let go, you heard a swear in the form of a vague whisper coming from the direction of the door, eyes widening in horror when you looked up and saw Chris standing there and staring at you. You didn’t know what to do, reluctantly removing your hands before sitting up and grabbing a towel.

“STOP!” Chris wanted to apologize when he saw your body jump at the loud command, but he wanted to make sure you didn’t wipe your hand anywhere. He carefully approached you, not wanting to frighten you anymore with his presence. You watched him like a hawk, knowing this road only had one end.

Chris stood beside the bed and leaned down, looking at your heaving chest before gently taking your hand, not giving you a chance to react as he pulled it to his mouth and started sucking on your fingers. You moaned at the filthy reaction, your eyes incapable of focusing on anything but the way he rolled his tongue around your wet fingers. 

When he saw that you weren’t going to push him away, he let go of your hand and kneeled on the bed, trapping your body between his arms as he leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss. You melted beneath him, all shyness flying out the window as you felt his hands explore your flushed skin. You moaned into his mouth when you felt him slip his hands beneath your shirt. But Chris misunderstood and immediately pulled away, searching your features for any sign of discomfort before he asked if he could take your shirt off.

“Is...is this okay?” He whispered, stopping his exploration of your skin to not distract you. Your eyes fluttered open and looked into his, and he smiled to himself when he saw how dilated your pupils were.

“Oh god yes please Chris.” 

That seemed to be all that Chris needed to hear because not a second later, he was fisting his hands in your shirt and dragging it up your body until it was off. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over the expanse of your newly exposed torso, licking his lips in anticipation when he could see your nipples poking through the thin material of your bra. He returned his attention to your eyes, smiling when you sighed as he slipped his arms behind your back to unclasp your bra. When he pulled the straps down your arm and threw the undergarment behind him, your breathing picked up and he thought it’d probably be better if he slowed down a bit.

“Relax Y/N, if you want me to stop I c-” He slowed down and was about to move away from you when he felt your hands grab his wrists and pull him back. 

“No, n-no keep going please. I just- you...you make me nervous.”

“Why baby? You didn’t look nervous five minutes ago when you called out my name as these little fingers sank into your sweet pussy.” He shouldn’t have teased you about what he saw but he couldn’t pass up at the chance, the look on your face making him grow harder in his jeans. 

“Chris...please.” You turned away from him, nuzzling into the arm next to your cheek and biting down on his skin to distract him. 

“Tell me honey, what were you thinking of? I’ll give you anything you want, anything you want from me. But I wanna know what you were thinking of. Please.” Chris leaned down and nipped at your jaw before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, biting down on your shoulder when it took you a little longer to respond to him.

“I- I thought of your fingers touching me, m-making me...oh god, making me cum. And...and I pictured you teasing me with your cock as you spread my thighs open and f-finally...finally- please, oh fuck please…” You shivered when you felt him slowly easing your panties down your leg before settling between your thighs.

“Finally what baby?” Chris looked up and held your gaze as he bit into your inner thighs, smiling he saw your hands fisting into the sheets beneath you.

“F-fucked me until I forgot my name.” You blinked down at him, gasping when he raised an eyebrow at your choice in words before he leaned down one more time and kissed your skin.

“Well why didn’t you just say so sweetheart.” His mischievous smile made you nervous and you threw your head back as soon as you felt his tongue lick at your slit. You moaned and bit into the pillow when his lips closed around your clit and violently sucked at the engorged nub, and you swore you could feel him smirk when your hands shot to his hair and pulled on it.

“C-chris...fuck oh my god your mouth! Feels so good, so good...so-” Your back arched off the bed almost painfully and Chris reluctantly shut his eyes and dove into your cunt, humming in approval and moaning at your taste the harder you pulled at his hair. He let go of your legs and pushed down on your thighs before moving one hand to replace his tongue. He looked up and saw bliss taking over your features, using the moment of distraction to spit on your cunt before easing two fingers into your fluttering walls. 

Your eyes shot open instantly, looking down at him just as he descended on you again and licked at your clit while his fingers thrust in and out of you. You couldn’t focus on one specific sensation, the different stimuli pushing you to that familiar fluttering in your stomach. You were already so close before and feeling his fingers replace yours drove you over the edge. 

“Go on baby, let go. Cum for me, let me taste this sweet cunt drenching me. Please baby I want you so fucking badly it hurts. Be a good little girl and cum on my fingers so I could finally fuck you like you want.” Hearing him whispering those filthy, unhinged words to you broke you apart and you fell to the bed again, thighs shaking violently as you gushed around his fingers and on his tongue. Chris continued to suck on your clit, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. With a slight graze of his teeth against your little bundle of nerves, you screamed his name and unintentionally shut your thighs around his head. 

Chris kissed your slit one last time before he eased his fingers out of you, rubbing the muscles of your legs to calm you down as he filled his eyes with your flushed skin. He bit his lower lip when he saw your stomach fluttering and your legs slightly shaking, squeezing your calves once before moving off of the bed and stripping off his clothes.

“C-chris…” You finally managed to open your eyes, smiling hazily at him as you touched yourself and watched as he took his clothes off. He was down to his boxers and waited a moment, laughing when he saw you pinch and pull at your nipples while you whined for him to hurry up.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” Chris winked at you when he took his boxers off, his chest expanding with pride when he saw the look on your face. 

“Fuck me…” You spread your thighs wide open when he moved to sit between your knees, unable to hold back from reaching to him and grasping his heavy cock in your hand. “We- we don’t...fuck that’s it baby. Your hands are so warm...we don’t have to do anything you- you don’t want.”

“Chris please, need you. Want your- your cock in me, stretching me...fucking me. Hard...please.” You were speaking in broken sentences and Chris had to hold back from coming right then and there. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he allowed you to pull him closer to your cunt.

“Wait- wait...we need a-”

“IUD...I have an IUD...and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Unless you want one. I didn’t mean to make it seem like-” 

“Fucking hell you’re going to be the death of me baby. I was tested after my last time, can’t fucking remember when that was to be honest. Are you...are you sure? I can go grab a condom right now.” Chris didn’t take his eyes off of you once, hands gripping your ass as you maneuver yourself closer to him and swipe the head of his cock against your clit.

“Please...wanna feel you with nothing between us. Oh god Chris I just- I want you. Now. Please, fuck me. F-fuck me.” Your desperate pleas made him twitch in your hand and he nodded at you, looking down and watching as you slowly pushed the head of his cock in your cunt.

“Fuck...oh baby you’re so big. You’re stretching me Chris...already feel so full. Fuck, I- I need…” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him but Chris seemed to understand what you needed, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he inched into you. He felt your nails digging into his back and groaned when your cunt clenched tightly around him. “Oh sweet fucking god Y/N...you’re so tight around me...squeezing the fuck out of me. Fuck baby that’s it...take it. Take my cock in that little pussy, you’re so perfect. Made for me...made to take my cock.” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, kissing and licking at your damp skin as he finally sheathed himself fully inside of you.

You were both breathing heavily, and you whimpered when he continued to swear against your neck. You could tell he was having a difficult time holding back, the thought of how patient he was making your heart skip a beat. When you finally relaxed your muscles enough, you scratched the back of his neck and begged him to move.

“Chris…”

“Sweetheart...I- can I move?” 

“Y-yes...please.” 

The whispered plea drove him mad with lust and he pushed up on his elbows to look at you, never once breaking eye contact as he pulled out and bucked his hips back into you again. You sighed his name and threw your head back, focusing on the way his hard dick twitched inside you as it slid against your walls. You could feel the tip of his cock hitting that deep, soft spot inside you over and over again, knowing that you were somehow already close to coming again. 

“You’re amazing baby, fucking exquiste. Like heaven...heaven and my dreams. Oh god, I’m- you’re clenching so tightly around me...could feel this cunt sucking me in deeper. Shit, are- are you already close again?” He could feel the familiar tightening of your walls and hissed when you nodded at him.

“Ok...fuck, could you wait for me darling? Please...wanna cum with you, feel you milking me dry. Please baby I’m begging here. Wait for me, fuck, wait for me.” You couldn’t deny him his request even if you wanted to, and you opened your eyes just in time to see his eyebrows furrow in focus. You parted your lips and groaned his name like a mantra, telling him of how hot and hard and thick he felt, whispering how much you wanted him to cum in you, to fill you up and keep fucking you until neither of you could move.

“Baby...oh god, baby you’re fucking amazing. Beautiful...perfect. Oh fuck, I- I’m…”

“Cum with me Chris...please, want to feel you cum in me. With me. Oh- oh please-”

As soon as you looked down and saw where you were joined, the thread uncoiled, and you threw your arms around Chris, pulling him closer and gasping his name as he picked up the pace and fucked into you harder, the sound of slapping skin filling the room and making you wish you could scream his name.

He bit into your shoulder as he felt your walls flutter around him, growling and shaking above you as he felt his balls pulse and signal his release. He came deep inside your pussy, his rhythm faltering the harder you squeezed him and pulled him in. He could feel you whimpering beneath him, and he smiled when you crossed your legs across his back to keep him inside you once he started to slow down. 

You weren’t sure how long you remained tangled in each other’s arms and when Chris tried to push off of you, you shook your head and begged him to stay.

“Not going anywhere baby...fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever cum this hard. You’re...something special Y/N.” Chris leaned down and kissed your lips, smiling against you when he felt your hold tighten around his neck. He parted and hissed when your cunt clenched around him once more, unable to hold back from chuckling at the sweet sensation. He slowly eased himself out and leaned back on his knees, watching as his cum leaked out of you and rolled down your thighs.

“Fucking hell.” Chris inhaled deeply before reaching down for his shirt to clean you up.

“Wait no you’ll get it dirty.”

“Who cares?” He shrugged as he softly cleaned his mess, apologizing when he became a little excited and rubbed harder than he should have. Throwing the shirt away, he pushed you to the side before rolling next to you, moving you into his arms and looking up at the ceiling as you drew patterns on his chest. 

“Did you know that in ancient times, the seven musical notes were assigned to the seven heavenly bodies in various symbolic arrangements? Kepler basically precisely calculated these long imagined Harmoniae Mundi...he noticed that the ratios between planets’ extreme angular velocities were all harmonic intervals. And more recently even, Molchanov has shown that the entire solar system can be viewed as a ‘tuned’ quantum structure, with Jupiter as the conductor of the orchestra.” You blinked up in confusion at Chris, eyebrows furrowing when he looked down and smiled at you.

“Sorry...I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” He blushed under your gaze, scratching his hair when your confused expression turned into an amused one.

“No no, you didn’t. I like listening to you talk about things you’re passionate about. I’m just surprised because you’re suddenly talking about harmonies which has nothing to do with your area.” You rested your chin on his chest and watched as he laid his head back in thought.

“Well, I was really interested in our last conversation and I read up on some stuff and I found all of these theories that connect music and geometry and space and the planets playing in tune and- god you’re going to think I’m stupid.” Chris shut his eyes and rubbed at his face, hoping to somehow hide from you until you let it go. 

“No never...please, what were you going to say?”

“I wanted to impress you...so I thought I could learn about harmonics and rhythms and I found all of this stuff about Kepler’s theories on planetary orbits and how he found the answer through geometry and musical spheres and...what?” He saw the way you were looking at him and blinked shyly, hoping that you wouldn’t think he was a complete weirdo. 

“That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Chris’ expression grew softer at your confession, shutting his eyes when you leaned over and kissed his cheeks. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Chris said as you pulled your head back to take a better look at him. What you saw in his eyes should have terrified you but instead, you felt your heart beat in comfort at his exclamation.

“So are you…” You nuzzled into his neck, twirling his hair around your fingers as you breathed his scent in and kissed his jaw. You were just about to doze off when a chime came from your phone. God, you knew the notification sound immediately, and you also knew who was emailing you so late in the afternoon.

“Oh god, I can’t check.” You shook your head and groaned when Chris leaned over and grabbed your phone. 

“Unlock it for me baby and I’ll check. I’m sure you did well.” He tried to put you at ease, kissing your forehead and whispering more assurances to you as you unlocked your phone and handed it to him. Scrolling through your apps, he found the Outlook app and clicked on it, opening the email from Dr. Daniels and reading through the email. You took in his face and cursed how well he was able to hide whatever emotion he was experiencing. 

“Well?”

“I think,” Chris said as he shut your phone off and placed it on the nightstand again, not giving you a chance to say anything as he rolled you underneath him and kissed your neck, “that we should forgo going out tonight, and stay in to celebrate. Properly celebrate your B+.” He laughed when you squealed and smashed your lips with his.

“Thank you thank you thank you, oh god I can’t believe I passed.”

“I knew you would sweetheart.” Chris fell back on the bed when you pushed him down, shutting his eyes and moaning in pleasure when you straddled him and left a trail of wet kisses down his scruff to his chest.

“Music and science aren’t the closest friends Chris...you can hardly blame me for not thinking I did well.” You whispered as you slowly pushed your hand between the two of you and took hold of his hardening dick.

“They might not be friends...but they are bedfellows...oh fuck.” You laughed at the remark, continuing your descent and kissing just above his happy trail. You smiled when you felt his hips buck against you, his fingers tightening their hold around your arms as you scratched his abdominal muscles. 

“In more ways than one obviously.”  

[kyeomunism]

Journal of the Bruised || Sirius Black

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Marauders Era

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: In which Sirius gets fascinated by the spitfire witch after reading her hopes and goals in a research journal.

Warnings: slight wounds, swearing, anxious thoughts, mentions of toxic parents, suggestive flirting, making out, me abusing my prompts I'm supposed to use for twelve different fanfics... (i think that's it, please tell me if I missed something.)

y/h/c=your hair color

y/l/n=your last name

y/n=your name (or just yeen:))

︵‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・༺❀༻・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ︵‿︵‿︵

You carefully step over some gigantic vines as you stroll around the forbidden forest. With a journal on your hand, wand in your pocket, and the bright moonlight over your head, you crouch down to get a closer look at some thorny branches and see a gleaming strand of unicorn hair entangling within it. You carefully save it in your pocket for your potions ingredients collection.

You stand up to get back to the castle without anyone noticing because getting detention would be a blow. You increase your pace, a hoard of centaurs being the least of your woes, considering the distant howls you've been hearing.

Your fear of getting in trouble at Hogwarts is just a result of your parent's high expectations, but you'll risk it for the sake of adding something to your journal. You love going to the woods at night just to pick a rare plant, animal hair, or at lucky nights, beast eggs. The moon is so bright you don't need to pull your wand out to illuminate the path.

Within a heartbeat, a loud thundering howl followed by ground-quaking steps electrify your spine. Instinct tells you to run immediately but the feel of something else's presence just several meters away glues your feet to the ground. You slowly reach for your wand as you turn. There's nothing there, but it feels like you're being watched.

A small rat came running near your direction as you inhale deeply, backing up towards the shadows just in case. A huge stag suddenly appears from where the rat came from, followed by an enthusiastic bear...no wait, you squint hard and could make up a large dog. The howling returns but this time, it's louder and scarier. Shivers overwhelm you as a full size werewolf came out of the shadows. Your free hand fly towards your mouth to stifle your terrified gasp.

You move away but not carefully enough, swearing all of them looked at your direction. The next second, you're running for your life, not daring to look back. All you know is that not only the werewolf is coming your way, but also the stag and the dog, and you don't care why. Nothing else matters as you make efforts not to scream nor show your face. It becomes harder for you through the thorny vines, wincing as the branches sting you.

Nobody can know you've been breaking the rules, not if it means getting many wounds or getting devoured alive. Nobody can know, or else your parents may force you to quit your hobbies and start preparing for work at the ministry. Oh you'd rather be dead than live without your passion.

The fear and panic about your future drives you out of the forest, not realizing until you find yourself catching breaths and applying pressure on wounds. You sit on the ground, listening to the distant howling that nearly became the last thing you heard. You check your pockets, your wand and the unicorn hair is still there.

"Damnit! Where's my journal?" You whisper-shout, bitter expression from your stinging wounds and the years long research now gone. Having the urge to lay there and cry until morning, you have no choice but to sneak back in the castle.

༺∘◦ ❀ ◦∘༻

"Who do you think that bloke was, Prongs?" Sirius asks as they sit beside Remus's hospital wing bed. "Doesn't matter now, does it? Whoever they are, they shouldn't have been idiotic enough to take a walk in the forest during a full moon," James says rather loudly.

"How 'bout you, Moons, who do you bet was it?" Peter pipes up.

"Doesn't matter, I could've killed them, worse, I could've bitten them," Remus says weakly.

Sirius brushes it off with a whole new full-proof plan for the next full moon. Something that Remus doesn't look forward to, but somehow enjoy with his friends' company. The marauders later spends the whole weekday morning in the hospital wing with the food Sirius, James and Peter got from the kitchens. The topics change each moment, until James finds a way to mock Sirius with his failed attempts at flirting with you.

"Just go talk to her!" James says between laughs.

"She doesn't even acknowledge me."

"I don't think so, it was only last quidditch practice when I heard her yell, suck it Black, when you got hit by a bludger." James, Remus and Peter laughs as Sirius's eyes widen.

Before Sirius could retort, "I gotta go prepare for my date with Evans now." James suddenly gets up, hastily messing up his hair and pocketing some sweets as his friends laugh at his ridiculous behavior.

"I'll stay here and finish these," Peter says while munching on some toast.

"I still want to know who's the owner of the journal I found a while ago. You sure you'll be good here, mate?" Sirius asks, to which Remus replies with a nod and goodluck.

༺∘◦ ❀ ◦∘༻

You're trying out spells to hide your puffy eyes from crying throughout dawn, frustratedly healing wounds. You don't want to miss breakfast to avoid suspicion, but it's hard to act normal. You finally look decent enough to your liking, but the potion made from the ingredients in your trunk did not do well on a gash on the back of your right hand, leaving a bruise. You decide to hide it in your Hogwarts robes and eat breakfast quickly.

After breakfast, you find yourself staring at the raven haired boy at the end of the hallway. Not that you expect him to care or notice you, but an inch of hope is still there. His usual unkempt hair that touches his face with such grace is just one of the many things you find attractive about him, but there was something different this time. He was holding a book, a very unusual thing to see since it's weekend.

You gasp as you walk closer in his direction, it's your journal. The thing you poured hardwork on, contains researches, discoveries and a list of dreams that had been ridiculed by your own parents. It was an extension of your soul, and it was being held by the Sirius Black.

He noticed you staring. "What's your deal, y/l/n, did you ran out of ridiculous potions to dye your hair y/h/c?"

You snap back from your thoughts. "Just a near-death experience, Black. And for the record, my hair is naturally y/h/c."

You turn around with a pounding heart. How did he find the journal? Did he read the contents? Was it that embarrassing?

Sirius watched you walk away. What does she mean by near death experience?

He looks at the journal, scans it for the second time since he found it this dawn. It's well-written and perfectly organized. He could swear he had seen the handwriting before, and the initials scribbled at the first page. Sirius decides to follow you to see if his guess is right.

༺∘◦ ❀ ◦∘༻

You sit on a part of the Hogwarts grounds away from other students, having trouble figuring out how did Sirius got your journal.

"You could've just told me this was yours."

You almost got a whiplash with Sirius's voice appearing out of nowhere. You just stared at him, examining his sharp features under the sun.

"What do you want?"

"Do you want this back?" he says, lightly waving the journal in front of you.

With a sigh, you spoke softly, "yeah. Can I have it now?"

"No."

"What?" You ask in disbelief, standing up to look at his silvery eyes.

"No, you have to reach it."

You want to whip out your wand and Accio the journal but Sirius's grin made you reach out as he waves it high above your head.

"What's wrong with your hand?" You freeze and hastily adjust your sleeves to cover it.

"You know what, I'm going back to the castle," you say half-heartedly.

"Who did this to you? I'll hex them."

"A tree branch. I would very much enjoy watching you hex it. You'll look more stupid than you already are."

"As much as I love the idea, let me see your hand first. Sirius's gentle voice almost melted you while reluctantly showing the bruise on the back of your hand. Sirius holds it, muttering an incantation under his breath. The bruise disappears in an instant.

You fill up with sudden gratitude and mixed emotions.

"I owe y—"

"No you don't. I'm doing this because I want to, deal with it. Now, tell me where you hurt yourself. Then I'll let you have your journal back."

"Why do you care anyways? I told you, I got hurt from a tree branch."

"That bruise is a cause of a potion applied on a deep gash lacking the proper incantation. What were you doing in the forbidden forest?"

"Speaking from experiences, are we, Black?" You say, highly amused. "I was just wandering around and dropped it. Are you done?"

"No, I know the easiest kind of lying is when you leave things out of a story. You could've been bitten or got killed. You're lucky Prongs and I saw you first."

You almost choked. "Excuse me? I don't know what you're talking abou—"

"I was there, me and my friends. It's a long story, y/n, so could you start first?" Your cheeks heat up at the sound of Sirius saying your first name.

"I don't think you'll understand, I'm my parent's disappointment, I'm the opposite of what they want me to be. Instead of doing my purpose, I'm out here wasting my time, trying to cope using the dumbest ways possible." You start venting out as you sit on the grass beside him.

"Believe me, I know exactly what that feels like, love." They both mentally freeze as the words slip though his mouth.

"I go through the forest just to write about the things I find there. Something I couldn't get from sitting in the library. That journal contains my hard work."

"I can tell. It's impressive and elaborate."

"Uhm, thanks. Y-you wouldn't tell anyone I was in the forest, would you?" You say hesitantly.

"If I'd tell the professors about your midnight strolls, I might as well be turning the marauders in for expulsion."

"Marauders?"

"It's my turn to explain," Sirius utters with a sigh.

You watch the handsome boy talk about his friends; how they had to transform into Animagi for the sake of keeping their friend's company—which greatly impressed you—and their mischievous whereabouts. You've never heard Sirius speak this gentle.

There so many things you wanted to say, but can't form words. "Sirius..."

His eyes meet yours for the first time you mentioned his name, and it's in a tone that he wouldn't trade for the world.

"...can I visit Remus?" you continue.

He smiles at you—a genuine smile that made your heart leap—and takes you back to the castle without a word. He gives the journal to you on the way.

Your steps are slow and steady, as if the air has never been more comfortable. You finally got to the hospital wing, and see Remus lying in bed, reading a book next to a pile of sweets his friends placed there. He looks at the two of you with a questioning stare.

"Remus, I... I was the person who saw you in the forest. Sirius told me about..."

"I'm sorry."

You felt taken aback with Remus's response.

"No, I should be sorry, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have been sneaking around late at night."

"That's actually a difficult habit to stop, y/n. Not that I tried," Sirius pipes up, earning chuckles from you and Remus.

You eventually become good friends with the marauders. Remus is glad you become friends because of his condition, and not inspite of it. Sirius would always ask about your day, which earns a lot of teases from James. You would still walk through the forbidden forest sometimes, but Sirius is always there to accompany you.

༺∘◦ ❀ ◦∘༻

Your NEWTs were coming near and Remus studied with you in the Gryffindor common room. It was late at night and completely silent, except for your small discussions about some topics. Several minutes pass and you find yourself talking about your feelings for Sirius, to which Remus never fail to respond with the best advices.

"Sometimes I wonder if Sirius feels the same..."

"You don't have to wonder," Remus says.

"Why?"

"Because he's right behind you." You almost jump as you hear him speak. "Mind to take a break from studying, y/n?"

You look at Remus, who shrugged with a smile. You get up and take a walk with Sirius. It was a comfortable silence, casually avoiding spots where you know people can see you and get you in detention. Your mind was going places thinking about a possible future with him. You didn't even realize you're in the astronomy tower if it wasn't for the sudden hug if cold air. You watch his eyes sparkle under the stars, standing at the huge overview of the tower.

"You wanna know how I feel about you?" You gulp at the way he broke the silence. You don't think you'll ever be ready to know. Your eyes finally met and it sent your bones to flames.

"I love you, y/n. And I've never felt more sure about anything in the world, fuck that, you are my world." The sincerity in his tone melted your brain, you couldn't string up a word.

"I can't believe we're finally here." Your throat starts to tighten with the struggle of words. "I was so scared to lose you, but I was also scared to say anything."

"Does that mean...?"

"Face first to the point and you still missed it. Of course I love you too, you idiot!"

You laugh as you jump into his arms, he gladly hugs you tight. The warmth and comfort that you felt contrasting to the cold night air felt so right.

"Hogsmeade, this weekend?" He whispers to your ear which sends shivers through your spine.

"Yes, but I don't wanna end up in detention after that."

"That's also a good idea for a first date."

You let go of the hug to look at his face.

"There's a fine line between liking you and wanting to hex you to oblivion."

"And I cross it everytime."

"Oh yes you do."

"You love it though."

"Hmm...yes I do."

With one meaningful look in his face, you press your lips against his. It's soft and gentle, firm and promising. His hand cups your face, thumb caressing your cheek. You wrap your arms around his warm body, feeling his heartbeat under his perfectly chiseled chest. After what seems like a beautiful forever, you pull away. The second you back up, a whistle and cheering made you jump.

"Prongs, Wormtail, what the hell are you doing here?" Sirius called the crackheads by the door.

"We saw you in the map, thought we've come to see the show," James says smugly.

"Want a treacle tart, y/n?" Peter says while holding half a dozen of them.

"No thanks I—"

"Hey, I thought you snuck out to the kitchens to get those for me?" You hear the distant voice of Remus, who clearly made an effort to leave his studies just to get his friends away from trouble.

"Nah Moons, 'tis the best part right here, I wanna know if Sirius messed this up," James continues with such a bright tone.

"Oh sod off, mate!" Sirius laughs as Remus take the two grown children away.

"Where were we?" You coo.

His lips brush yours passionately, like a fiery tease. You barely had a second to react and you already granted his tongue in the seam of your lips. He delved in your mouth, making you breathless. Your arms travels up to tangle around his neck to his luscious black hair. He pulls you even closer and you inhale sharply as his lips form into a smirk. He began peppering your neck with delicate kisses. You can't get enough of it, you let out pleasured tones that feels like godly music to him.

"Please, Siri... I need you."

"Absolutely, love. I will be gentle and make sure you can still walk after."

"I have seen your exes walk, no you won't," you reply. He chuckles between kisses that turned you on even more. The rest of the night will forever be one of the best things you've ever experienced.

༺∘◦ ❀ ◦∘༻

After graduating, you and Sirius joined the Order, fighting with and for each other.

One day, you and Sirius comes home from an Order mission, you have a slight bruise on your hand after falling over once in a duel with a Deatheater.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Sirius asks. Your lips forms a smile at the sudden flashback of his words.

"It's not holding yours," you reply. He lets out a bark of laughter as he checks your hand. His laugh is the nicest thing to watch and listen to.

"Wanna know what's wrong with your hands?" you ask him.

"Hmm?"

"They're not around my neck." Before you even finish the sentence you both are already laughing loudly.

He did fix what's wrong with his hand later that day, which you absolutely love.

You continue writing all your researches on your journal as you participate in the war. It all paid off because of Sirius, despite your parents' disapproval. You're with him and that's all that matters.

You eventually publish several informative books, with Sirius always by your side to support you. You both are proud of the fact that your books became the foundation research for Damocles Belby in creating the wolfsbane potion.

[lovee-infected]

Hi may I please have headcannons for Ciel Phantomhive who got transported to Twisted wonderland.

It got a bit long for headcanons but why not ? Ciel in twisted wonderland has got a lot to tell lol

♦♥♠♣

He assumes it all to be a dream when he wakes up in NRC , as he slides the door of his coffin open just to fall to the ground

He tries and calls for Sebastian , considering this situation having something to do with him .When Sebastian doesn't show up , he leds out a moody growl trying to find someone or a way out of wherever he was

Mirror hall didn't seem a bad place for him to wake up at ; since most of the designs remained the same over hundreds of years it was kinda similar to victorian styles from Ciel's original time . He low-key starts admiring decorations and unfortunately , steps on something's tail

Grim naturally freaks out being woken up from his slumber like this and in a few seconds the whole salon is set on fire

Crowley arrives just in time to find Ciel almost choking Grim while shouting at him to do something ; poor Grim passes out when Crowley finally freed him from the savage Phantomhive's hands

Crowley isn't sure what to do first , punishing him for intense violence or clarifying which dorm would be responsible for him

He leaves judgement to the mirror and...it doesn't go quite as expected : " Your soul is...no . Not again...this one doesn't belong to any dorms either ," mirror says . Crowley got terrified thinking that it was similar to MC's situation , but he got even worse as the mirror says : " I see nothing through him because...I see no soul "

Crowley argues that there must be a mistake but Ciel himself knows that his soul no longer belongs to him , but to Sebastian

Ciel asks if the mirror knows anything about his contract , but neither the mirror nor headmaster had any idea on what he was talking about

Ciel decides to skip that part since he doesn't want to spill more tea himself , so he asks where he is

After Crowley's hour long presentation and telling Ciel that he's stuck in twisted wonderland until Crowley finds a way to send him back home , poor boy nervously smirks

He is now sure of it all being a dream so he tries anything that would help him to wake up : Pinching himself , slapping , screaming and finally , throwing himself out of window - He is lucky that Crowley catches him before his head crashes the ground

He almost saw dead with his two eyes , so it couldn't be a dream anymore

He first freaks out at how he can't come back , but then calms down realizing that he won't stay here for too long ;Sebastian would not let

Sebastian isn't one demon to give up on his soul just by him disappearing , he is way greedier and stubborner and would do anything it takes to have his rights as long as Ciel isn't dead . So being caught in a different world or dimension was no stop for Sebastian , specially thinking that demons themselve came from another dimension

Ciel decides to be hopeful that Sebastian would find him anyway , so he says that he'll wait just there until Sebastian comes for him , ignoring Crowley's ramblings wanting him to stop being stubborn

After a few hours Ciel gives up , accepting that he can't last on his own if he just waits for Sebastian to show up : What is taking that bastard so long...

The kind and good-hearted Crowley offers him a vip stay at their all Happy and comfortable hotel , aka Ramshackle dorm

Ciel argues that he just can't live like a pig , but Crowley states that he's either staying out or at Ramshackle's . He angrily growls , having to deal with it

The next morning he wakes up to see no one but Grim , which made both of them scream . MC catches the pan before Grim could throw it at Ciel , and Ciel brings out his gun- . MC then slaps him for rudeness and takes the gun

He ends up having to head classes with MC and Grim since he has nothing else to do , though he was too young to head any of the classes

Ciel isn't used to heading to public classes , but he's okay with them since he has his experience from Weston College , but something else irritates him :

This school was a bit too similar to Weston College. Not only atmosphere but also students . He basically shared the same class with a green haired version of Greenhill . Sebek is nothing different from him except being...more annoying . He couldn't stop talking about someone he called young master which makes him look a bit like Agni

Same goes for Ace and Deuce , they seemed kinda familiar but Ciel isn't sure where he's seen them before

He doesn't like Crowley because the way he acts , talks and hides his eyes remind him of Undertaker ; making him feel unsafe whenever he is around

This annoying pace continues for him ; a socially awkward emo with long blue hair who is good enough to be Gregory Violet's Identical twin , a teenage-version of Agni who shares the same wild spirit as Suma , and many others

He thought that it couldn't get any worse until he almost screams Snake at a guy who looks JUST- LIKE - HIM , sleeping under a tree . Silver wakes up to Ciel's fascinated gaze and gives him a confused look , that makes Ciel run away

School on the other hand is terrible : Magic's history is nothing like the history he is learned by Sebastian , but he could handle studying something all new . The problem is with the rest of classes : Animal language , alchemy and and anything that requires any talent in magic ; but PE is the worst . His body is already pretty weak and he falls at asthma attacks several times . To add to that his height is another thing he had to keep up with , he is at least 10 centimeters shorter than even the smallest ones there and of course , Night raven's unraveled students don't mind bullying a short moody kiddo-

Beside his enormous problems , there are other advantages as well ;

Ciel isn't much of a people person , but students there are rather interesting to him

Still most of them seem neutral to him , but there are also ones who catch his eyes :

He doesn't like : Grim (for obvious reasons) , Ace and Deuce (too loud and annoying ) , Cater ( Is always playing with some odd invention called phone *) , Leona and Ruggie ( they bully him ) , Jade ( Looks and talks like Sebastian ) , Floyd ( looks like an illegal combination of Sebastian and Grell...+ calls him baby seal ) , Rook ( stalks on him) , Sebek ( too annoying)

He low-key likes : Riddle ( he respects him organized nature + they look a bit similar) , Trey ( acts like a loyal servant ) , Azul ( is smart with contracts and seems to be a man of culture + runs a cafe with good teas and desserts) , Idia ( he weird , yet interesting ) , Silver ( reminds him of Snake) , Malleus ( is mysterious and looks like an almighty master )

The rest are just neutral to him

( * ) : Ciel obviously doesn't know what a phone is , along with many other things invented after his age ; he thinks they are all magical tools and not something created by the hand of man

Riddle invites him to tea parties and Ciel appreciates it , at least one thing that made him calm down in this crazy world

He once goes to Mister S's shop and Sam immediately senses a demonic aura around him , asking him tons of questions about the demon shielding him . Ciel dodges from answering each and every one of them but Sam isn't yet satisfied . He doesn't argue as he Ciel resists answering but Ciel is about to leave , he tells something that makes his blood run cold : " ...We'll soon meet this mister Sebastian in person , little demon ; My friend on the other side told me"

When learning that Azul is a master of contracts , Ciel goes to him to see if he knows anything about contracts made with demons ; which he either doesn't really know or doesn't want to share since Ciel has nothing to give as the price

Azul though still sends the twins after him since he's starting to get interested after his demon sorted questions ; which made him curious of what this child might actually know

Ciel once steps into Ignihyde and gets out in 0.01 seconds . His mind isn't yet prepared to deal with a technology which won't be yet discovered until hundreds of years later from his original time

Other than Ignihyde , the dorm which really makes him feel uncomfortable is Scarabia . The atmosphere is just like Suma's palace and getting reminded of that horrible massacre with Agni's death isn't really pleasant . He meets both Kalim and Jamil in school and Kalim even invites him to parties , but he immediately says no . He decides to stay away from there as much as possible

Savanaclaw is his danger zone , he steps in = He dies . He once calls Leona Pathetic nasty cat and that is enough for Leona to set a prize for his head

Malleus on the other hand seems to be appreciating this little guest . Ciel feels a bit unsafe around him as Malleus notices his supernatural secrets , including the seal under his blindfold without him mentioning it ; but Malleus confronts him that he doesn't want anything from him and he's just interested that's all

Rook hears from Octavinelle students that Azul is after the child , and that makes him enter the challenge uninvitedly ; the Ciel catching game . After all he lives to be the greatest of hunters and also , whatever the reason was , Pomefiore would have an advantage holding what Octavinelle needed

If it wasn't because of MC , Grim , Ace and Deuce sticking to him all day he would've got caught long ago , but no one could kidnap him this easily when others were around

With his terrible situation at classes , daily argues with Grim and anyone else , bully routines and almost half of the school after him he knows that he won't last there much longer

Ciel now can't help but to pray for Sebastian to find him sooner wherever he is now...

♦♥♠♣

Note : Now now , would you guys like a second part for this in which Sebastian this time , finds his way to twisted wonderland..? (:

Update: Part 2 here!

Tagging : @lethlia @xxunrxvelingxx @ji-yaaan

[sturchling]

The Truth Will Set You Free

I had an idea for a Maribat story and I just had to write it. 

The class wins a trip to Gotham and Marinette meets Damian Wayne. After Damian hears what Lila has been doing, he uses a truth serum he learned about while with the League of Assassins. Will Lila’s lies be revealed?

(I have no idea if truth serum exists in the DC Universe, so I just went with it. Couldn’t find any information online, other than Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth.)

Marinette had no idea that the class trip to Gotham would improve her life so much. It all started with an essay contest being held by Wayne Enterprises. The best essay submitted by a class would win that class an all expense paid trip to Gotham for a week. Marinette was excited when she found the contest information one Friday afternoon. It had been a rough week for the you designer. Lila had been making steady progress towards her threat. Several of Marinette’s friends had started to believe Lila when Lila told them that Marinette had been bullying her. It was hard for Marinette to watch her friends start to believe the worst of her. But there was a bright side. Not all of her friends were tricked. Nino, Kim, and Nathaniel had figured out that Lila was lying about Marinette. After that, it wasn’t hard to convince them that she had lied about everything.

 ---------------

Adrien, of course, knew what was happening and that Lila was lying about Marinette. He wished he could defend her more directly, but his father had forbidden it. His father had told him that he had to maintain good relations with Lila for the face of the brand, and that if Adrien did the opposite then he would pull Adrien out of school. While Adrien couldn’t directly say anything against Lila, Adrien helped Marinette where he could. He would warn her if Lila was saying something especially horrible about her, and would hang out with her when he could. Adrien would also discreetly question some of Lila’s stories about Marinette, which had helped keep the class from completely turning on her. At least it had helped for a while, but it wasn’t working as well now and the class was quickly becoming very hostile to Marinette.

  ---------------

Chloe was surprisingly less hostile to Marinette during these times. She was still not particularly kind, but she was no longer completely cruel. Chloe had offered an apology to Marinette after Sabrina left her for Lila. Chloe had begun to suspect Lila as being a liar after the fake Ladybug summoning ritual. Chloe wasn’t stupid. Chloe knew the only reason Ladybug had shown up that day was because of Miraculer. A little after that incident, Chloe cornered Lila in the bathroom and told her that she knew she was a liar. Instead of being scared like Chloe thought she would be, Lila just smirked and said, “Fine. You don’t want to play on my team? Then you are my enemy. Just like Marinette. It will be even easier with you. You don’t even have many friends. Just little Sabrina. Soon, you won’t even have her.” With that, Lila left the room. Chloe didn’t think anything of the threat, she believed in Sabrina. But then Sabrina became distant. Apparently, Lila had been telling Sabrina that Chloe was being a bad friend and that she would be a much better friend to her. Sabrina had believed her and left Chloe behind. Chloe did end up alone, just like Lila said. But, the one thing constant was that Ladybug stilled called her to be Queen Bee from time to time. Then one day, Ladybug spoke with her about needing to improve herself. Ladybug had told her, “You are a hero in your super hero life, but you need to act more like a hero in your civilian life too.” After a while of thinking about what Ladybug had said, she decided to apologize to Marinette. Marinette did end up accepting the apology, and while they weren’t best friends, Marinette and Chloe were more friendly with each other.

--------------- 

  The Friday Marinette had heard about the contest, she had just gotten back from hanging out with Chloe, Nino, and Adrien. They had gone to eat a small café and vent a bit about the Lila problem. Adrien had been fed up, as he had spent all day with her at a photoshoot instead of going to school. Of course, Lila being absent from school that day did not stop her from ruining the others day. She had apparently texted Alya about how cruel Marinette had been to her by text the night before. So, the rest of the class was horrible to Marinette, and by extension her friends, all day. After an hour of complaining, the friends went their separate ways. When Marinette got home, she was browsing the internet and saw the ad that announced the essay contest. She was very excited when she saw it and immediately messaged her friends. They all got excited as well and thought it would be a fun end of the year trip. Marinette decided to spend all weekend working on the essay for the contest. After several long days of writing, Marinette submitted the essay to the contest. All that was left was to wait for news.

  ---------------

It had been a week since Marinette submitted the essay. Marinette had told Mrs. Bustier about the contest after she had submitted the essay, but asked that she didn’t tell the class in case they didn’t get the prize. Marinette got home after school the day after the contest closed and saw that she had a new email. When she opened the email, she saw that they had won the class trip. Marinette was ecstatic! She texted her friends and forwarded the email to Mrs. Bustier so she would have all the details. She asked Mrs. Bustier not to tell the class who had won the contest, so that they wouldn’t just immediately reject the idea. Then Marinette went downstairs to tell her parents the good news. After dinner, Marinette noticed she had received a second email. This time it was from Mrs. Bustier and was sent to the whole class. It said:

Good evening students,

This email is to let you know that our class was selected as the recipient of an all expense paid trip to Gotham for a week at the end of the school year. We won this trip due to the hard work of one of our students. We will leave the Monday after the school year concludes. Attached you will find the details sent by the contest organizers.

Marinette was thankful that Mrs. Bustier had listened to her request for once, and hadn’t named her as the person who got them the trip. At least, she was thankful until the following morning. When Marinette and her friends walked into class the next day, they heard Lila loudly proclaiming, “I wanted to tell you all that I was the student who one the contest for the trip. I had to make a video all about our accomplishments. It was hard work, but it is so worth it to be able to give you all such a wonderful trip.” Marinette’s friends were furious that Lila was taking the credit from Marinette again. So, Adrien tried to discretely question Lila, hoping to make the others realize that she was lying. Adrien asked, “I saw the ad for the contest, I thought it was an essay contest Lila?” Lila glared at him for a minute before plastering a fake smile and replying, “Well yes, it is an essay contest. But the Waynes made an exception for me because of my wrist problems.” Chloe rolled her eyes and said, “How would the Waynes know about your wrist?” Lila quickly responded, “I pretty much grew up with them. Bruce thinks of me like a daughter. I’m especially close with his youngest son Damian. Damian and me even started an on-again-off-again relationship a few years ago. He is so sweet. As soon as I messaged him about the contest, he made sure I would be allowed to do a video essay.” The class just ate up this story while Marinette and her friends were shocked they could believe such a silly lie. When Chloe went to make a big scene about everything, Marinette stopped her and just went to the back row and sat down. Marinette didn’t care if she got the credit, she just wanted the class to have a good trip.

  ---------------

The school year had finished up a few days ago. The class had been in Gotham for 3 of the 7 days they were supposed to be there. Today, the class was going to tour Wayne Enterprises. When the class got excited that they might meet Bruce Wayne, Lila made sure to cover herself and told the class that if they did meet Bruce Wayne, that he would pretend not to know Lila so that she wouldn’t get any unwanted attention from the Gotham Rogues. The class completely bought it and didn’t question Lila at all about it. While on the tour, the class stopped in a cafeteria for lunch. Marinette stepped out of the cafeteria to sketch a new design in her sketchbook. It was a new design for a costume for Robin. Suddenly a shadow fell across the page. When Marinette looked up, there stood a boy with black hair and green eyes that looked like he was about her age. He stared at her with a stoic expression and asked, “What are you doing?” Marinette replied, “Oh, I’m here on a tour with my class. I just needed a break from the chatter. I came out here to work on a design for Robin.” That seemed to surprise the boy and he asked, “What do you mean a design for Robin? You mean the vigilante here in town?” Marinette glanced up at him again before continuing to sketch while answering, “Yes for that Robin. His costume is atrocious. He looks like a traffic light! At least the rest of the Batfam have ok costumes. But Robin’s costume is the worst!” Marinette paused and looked up, “Sorry, when it comes to fashion, I get a little fired up.” The boy in front of her looked amused and said, “It is alright. It was interesting to hear your opinion. Are you with the visiting French class? What is your name?” Marinette grinned at the boy and said, “Yes, I’m with that class. My name is Marinette.” The boy slightly smiled, and said, “What a beautiful name. My name is Damian. Forgive me if this is too bold, but would you like to have dinner with me this evening?” Marinette blushed, no one had told her that her name was beautiful before. She shyly responded, “I would love to have dinner with you. Where do you want to meet?” Damian told her, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick you up from your hotel at 6:00, if that time works for you?” Marinette agreed and then her friends left the cafeteria. They saw Marinette with a strange boy and they walked over to check on her. When the boy turned around, Chloe and Adrien both recognized him as Damian Wayne!

--------------- 

  Once Damian had walked away, Chloe and Adrien rushed up to Marinette and Chloe said, “Marinette! What were you doing talking to Damian Wayne?!” Marinette looked shocked. She hadn’t realized that the Damian she had been talking to, had been Damian Wayne. Marinette told her friends everything that had happened, including Damian asking her out to dinner that night. Marinette started freaking out as she realized she had a date with THE Damian Wayne. Chloe and Adrien got her to calm down and realize that he is the same boy she had been talking to with no problem. After she had calmed down, Kim said “I can’t wait to tell the class. They will flip out. Lila will be so angry that you are actually dating the Damian she has been lying about.” Marinette stopped Kim saying, “Stop. Don’t tell them. Lila will just come up with a way to turn it around on me and it will make everything worse.” Kim didn’t like it, but he agreed to keep quiet. With that, the friends talked excitedly about the date throughout the rest of the tour. After the tour, the class returned to the hotel and Chloe helped Marinette get ready for her date. After she was ready, Marinette went down to the lobby to wait for Damian with Chloe and Adrien.

  ---------------

Right at 6:00, Damian walked into the hotel to pick up Marinette. She was sitting on a bench with another girl with blonde hair. Damian approached Marinette and said, “Ready to go Angel?” Marinette blushed immediately after hearing the pet name. “Angel?” she asked. Damian smiled and said, “Yes, Angel. Is it ok if I call you that?” Marinette was so tongue tied that Chloe had to step in and say, “Yes, it is ok with her. She is just speechless.” Damian chuckled and said, “Ok then. Let’s go Angel.” Marinette stood and Damian took her arm to lead her out of the hotel. Before they could get far though, they heard a sickly-sweet voice from behind them ask, “Marinette? Where are you going? Who is this?” Damian felt Marinette tense up and was immediately on guard. They turned and Damian saw a girl with hair that looked like sausages standing behind them with an obviously fake smile on her face. Behind her stood, what Damian guessed, was the rest of Marinette’s class.  Damian responded to the girl saying, “I’m Damian. I’m taking Marinette out to dinner.” The class seemed shocked but the sausage girl quickly recovered and said, “Wow Marinette. You sure work quick. Only been here a few days and you already have a date with some stranger. Didn’t realize you were so desperate.” The class started to grumble and taunt Marinette while the blonde girl from earlier just glared at the class. Damian went to defend Marinette and yell at the class, but Marinette placed a hand on his arm and subtly shook her head. Damian didn’t like it, but if Marinette didn’t want him to say anything then he wouldn’t. The two just ignored the class, turned, and left for their date.

  ---------------

The new couple arrived at the small restaurant for dinner and sat down. After ordering, they started talking. Damian ended up asking, “Angel, was that your class as we were leaving? Why would that one girl have said those things to you?” At first Marinette seemed hesitant to say anything, she didn’t want to say anything against her old friends. And if she said anything about Lila, Lila might find out and make her life worse. But Damian wouldn’t leave it be. He knew something was wrong. Finally, Marinette gave in and told Damian everything that had been happening since Lila first appeared. How she had been lying about everything. Even how she lied about winning this trip for the class and knowing the Waynes. Damian was furious. How dare that liar be so mean to his sweet angel. That was all it took for Damian to start planning the liar’s downfall.

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

Damian enacted his plan as soon as he got home. He informed his father what the liar had been saying and his father decided to send the girl a lawsuit for lying about the family. But Damian knew that Lila would either hide it or somehow spin the story in her favor. Damian knew that he had to end the liar’s influence over the class if he wanted to make things better for his angel. But the only way he could think to do that would be to get the liar to admit everything. Damian knew, however, that it was extremely unlikely that she would admit to anything. Then Damian remembered a tool from his time with the League of Assassins. The league had used a truth serum for when they needed information. They had also used it to test new recruits. It was very effective and would probably work on Lila. Damian set to work making a batch of the truth serum. He wanted to make sure to have it ready in time for the party his dad was throwing at the end of the trip for the class. He had his plan, now he just had to wait for the party.

  ---------------

The next few days passed quickly. Damian and Marinette spent all their free time together. They had quickly become a cute couple. Marinette had even gone over to the manor and met Damian’s family. Every member of the Wayne family now agrees that Marinette is sunshine incarnate. Marinette loved the family. Damian’s brothers were like the brothers Marinette never had. Bruce was also very nice to Marinette. Marinette had yet to figure out their nightly activities, but they knew that if she dated Damian for much longer, she would figure it out. The last days of the trip went quickly and before the class knew it, it was there last night in Gotham. Bruce Wayne had invited them to a party that night and the whole class was excited. Little did they know that they would finally have the truth revealed to them by the end of the night.

  ---------------

Once the party began, Marinette hardly left Damian’s side. They were dancing and talking for hours. Marinette eventually stepped away to the restroom and that is when Damian made his move. He grabbed a glass of punch and poured in the truth serum that he had been working on. He looked around and saw Lila surrounded by the rest of her class, probably telling another tall tale. He walked over to Lila and said, “Would you like some punch?” Lila tried to look shy and accepted the glass saying, “Thank you. You’re Damian, right? The guy Marinette has been clinging to for days?” Damian got angry hearing how this girl talked about his angel, but he held it back and replied, “Yes, that is me. You’re Lila, right?” Lila took a big drink of the punch and replied, “Yes, how did you know my name? I don’t think I ever introduced myself. Did Marinette tell you about me? She must have lied and said such horrible things about me. She has been such a bully; you probably shouldn’t hang out with someone like that.” By now, Lila had finished the punch and the rest of the class was watching the interaction with fascination. Perfect, Damian thought. Now he just needed to keep her talking. The effects of the truth serum are pretty immediate, so the plan can continue. Damian pretended to be shocked by what Lila had said and asked, “Really? She doesn’t seem like a bully. She has been bullying you?” Before Lila knew what she was saying, Lila said, “Actually, I lied. Marinette never bullied me.” The class gasped and Lila looked shocked at what she had just said. Lila didn’t know why she had just admitted that she had been lying about that. Just as she started to suspect Damian had done something, Adrien chimed in with a smirk on his face, asking “So you have been lying about Marinette this whole time?” Lila was forced to answer the question, “Yes I lied. She never bullied me.” Damian had told Adrien and Chloe about the plan he had for the party so they were ready to ask questions and destroy the liar. As the trio kept asking questions, Lila was forced to reveal every lie she had told the class. With each admission the class grew more and more shocked. They couldn’t believe that their friend had been lying to them all this time.  Marinette returned to the party to find, her friends and Damian talking to Lila and the rest of her class. She walked over and asked, “What is going on?” Damian responded, “Oh, Lila was just enlightening the class about some of her stories.” Alya and some of the other members of the class tried to apologize to Marinette, but they were interrupted by Bruce beginning to speak. Bruce said, “Could I have everyone’s attention please? I just wanted to say thank you all for coming. And I wanted to introduce the young lady that wrote the winning essay. Marinette wrote a stunning essay about her class and all of the accomplishments of her classmates. She could say nothing but the nicest things about her class. I simply had to meet such an amazing class of young people. So, could we get a round of applause for Marinette?” The rest of the guests gave a round of applause for Marinette, while Mrs. Bustier’s class just stood in stunned silence. They didn’t understand, Lila had said that she won the contest for them. She had obviously lied. And Marinette had only nice things to say? But they had been so mean to her lately. The class felt horrible about everything. Bruce continued, “I have had the pleasure of speaking with Marinette a few times since her class arrived and she is an amazing young lady. She is kind and very humble-” Someone from the back of the room, who Marinette recognized as Jason, called out, “She is also Damian’s girlfriend!” The guests started whispering excitedly and Bruce responded, “Yes, she is dating my youngest. But I would still think highly of her, even if she wasn’t.” The room erupted into excited chatter as the guests discussed how this girl had managed to get a date with the youngest Wayne. The class was shocked. They had no idea that they Damian Marinette had been seeing was THE Damian Wayne. Lila was furious. She had been forced to reveal all of her lies somehow, and now she finds out that Ms. Goody-two-shoes Marinette had somehow actually gotten a date with Damian Wayne. This wasn’t how this trip was supposed to go. She was supposed to dazzle the class with stories of how she knew the Wayne family. Then she was supposed to meet Damian at this party and actually start dating him. Now Lila had no boyfriend, and had lost her minions. They would never believe her again.  The class was horrified as they realized what they had done to their good friend, all because one girl claimed that Marinette was bullying her. They didn’t even ask for proof; they just took Lila at her word. They wanted to apologize, but they knew it would never completely make up for what they did. As they watched Marinette walk away with her friends and Damian, they knew they had lost an amazing friend. How could they have believed that liar?

[unholyobsessions]

Oblivious Memories

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: The Universe is in charge of soulmates and making sure they meet. They have never met anyone as oblivious as Julie and Luke. 

Read on ao3

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 2.3k 

Masterlist

For my jatp secret valentine @vividblues262 I hope you enjoy this and you have a as good of a time reading it as I had writing it. thank you to @screwunsaidemily for organizing this! @jatpsecretvalentine​

The Universe is a powerful being. They create many great and beautiful things but the one they are revered most for, is soulmates. Each person is assigned someone who they are meant to be with. One just isn’t complete without their other half. 

According to everyone, you just know who your soulmate is. There is no specific experience. Some claim to see a string connect their wrists, others say it’s like seeing color for the first time, and others say it feels like your heart stops beating only for it to start again with the same beat as their person. 

Each soulmate meeting is unique, and the Universe admits, each pair is different. Some more stubborn than others to meet their person. So getting some people together is harder than others. 

But the Universe has never had a harder, more oblivious pair than Julie Molina and Luke Patterson. 

. . .

Julie Molina hasn’t met her soulmate but she doesn’t worry, she knows it will happen when the time is right. She traces the tattoo on her forearm, the black music notes that stand out against her white t-shirt, as she lets her mind drift on the topic.  

Julie doesn’t know what she’ll experience but she hopes it will be memorable. 

Lost in thought, she doesn’t hear the footsteps echoing down the hall and toward her room until the door slams open. 

Flynn stomps in, fingers plugging her ears and Carrie follows behind her, clearly annoyed at her girlfriend’s antics. 

“Damn it Flynn just listen to me!” Carrie exclaims. “Julie tell her to listen to me!” 

Julie simply stares at her two best friends, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. Flynn won’t listen to her and whatever Carrie did to get her to act childish is not her problem. 

“La la la la la,” Flynn chants, getting louder with each word. And Julie had promised herself a long time ago that she would not get involved in their fights. They’re soulmates and should know how to figure it out themselves, but Flynn hasn’t been in her room for two minutes and she’s already getting on her nerves. 

Julie stands with a sigh, walking over to Flynn and yanking her arms apart. “Flynn! Stop yelling,” she commands. Flynn immediately pouts and starts mumbling about Julie being unfair and taking sides. 

Julie ignores her best friend and turns to Carrie, who has already made herself comfortable on the beanbag next to her desk. “What’s going on?” Carrie starts explaining what happened between her and Flynn but Julie shakes her head to stop her. “No not that. I mean why are you here? I thought you guys were busy today.” 

Flynn pulls her arms from Julie’s grip and goes to sit next to Carrie, seemingly forgetting that they were arguing not five minutes ago. “We were busy, but then the museum got boring so we decided to come here to drag you out of your room. We’re getting coffee.” Flynn isn’t asking, and Julie has learned to recognize when she won’t win. So, she pushes her feet into a pair of sneakers, too lazy to untie and retie the shoe laces, and slips on a cardigan over her dress. 

Julie shouts a goodbye to her dad and linking her arms with her friends’, they all make their way to their favorite coffee shop a few streets away. It’s crowded, as it usually is on Saturday afternoons. The tables are filled with students typing away at their computers, attempting to finish essays at the last minute. The booths are filled with friends, gossiping and laughing together. Julie is dragged to the counter, where she orders her usual vanilla iced latte, smiling politely at the barista. 

Leaning against Carrie’s side, Julie looks around the shop as she waits for her drink. She finds herself looking at the corner booth, crowded with four boys discussing something she couldn’t quite hear. One of them is hunched over a notebook, lip between his teeth and pencil tight in his hands. Julie stares, intrigued by the brunette. He lifts his head, eyes closed and mumbles something under his breath. When he opens his eyes, they stare right at Julie and she feels her stomach twist with embarrassment. Before she can turn away and try to forget the interaction ever happened, he smiles at her and goes back to writing in his notebook. 

Julie’s stomach twists again, but with a completely different feeling. Flynn snaps her out of her daze by placing her iced latte in her hands. Julie thanks her and allows herself to be dragged outside, rolling her eyes when Flynn says that she wants a new jean jacket. Conversation distracts her as she walks away, not allowing her to dwell on the foreign feeling. 

The Universe frowns down at them. What just happened? They’ve been putting both of them in the same rooms for years and they never even acknowledged each other’s presence. And when they do, they ignore each other? Did they not feel it? The pull toward their soulmate? 

The Universe sighs, frustrated. They will have to work a little harder on this pair. 

. . .

A week later, Julie is at the mall with Flynn, helping her find a pair of sneakers to match the jacket she bought the week before. The store they’re in is small, with white walls and red accents. It’s inviting, so it’s no wonder this is the first one they visit. Julie makes a beeline for the benches, and tells Flynn where to find her when she is ready to model the shoes she’s chosen, if she finds any that ‘call to her.’ 

She scrolls through her phone, mindlessly liking posts on instagram, leaving a comment here and there and entering a couple of giveaways. A loud laugh makes her head snap up and her heart flutter. She doesn’t recognize the voice but there is a yearning within her that she doesn’t recognize. Twisting her head, trying to find the source of the beautiful noise she sees the guy from the coffee shop with an arm slung over his leather jacket clad friend.

His smile is blinding and Julie doesn’t want to look away, no matter how much she knows she should. He says something back to his friend that causes the dark haired male to push the brunette away. The push lands him in Julie’s way as he stumbles into the bench. 

On instinct, Julie grasps his arm in order to stop him from hitting the floor. Their eyes meet and Julie’s heart screams, but neither attempt to make a move, or even speak to each other. 

The Universe smiles. Finally. Nothing can get in between them now. They’re in front of each other. They’re touching. They have to know. But then. 

Flynn’s voice reverberates across the store as she says that nothing spoke to her. Willing herself to stand up, Julie averts her gaze and walks away, not understanding why her chest feels like it will burst open with every step she takes.

The Universe could scream. Just how hard will they have to try to get these two idiots together. They didn’t make a mistake. There is no such thing as soulmates who aren’t meant to be, whether they be platonic or romantic. No, these two are just too dense and oblivious for their own good. 

Time for plan C, the Universe decides.  

. . .

The club is packed. Sweaty bodies push against her and Julie crinkles her nose. She doesn’t normally frequent clubs, especially places as packed as this one, but Flynn and Carrie dragged her out tonight (as they do every weekend) because apparently this up and coming band is playing tonight and they are sure that she will love them. 

Julie doesn’t doubt that she will, there is hardly a genre of music that she doesn’t enjoy, but she much prefers to listen to them from the comfort of her room, or anywhere else that doesn’t require her to interact with drunk people who keep pushing her. 

She is not really listening to Flynn and Carrie’s conversation, only nodding whenever it seems appropriate. It isn’t long till the lights dim even more than before and a spotlight lights up the stage. Four guys jog up the steps and the crowd screams joyfully. 

They all get ready and as soon as the drummer counts them in, the song starts. The lead singer looks up and Julie stops breathing. He starts singing and her sight goes black. Suddenly, memories that she is sure aren’t hers start flashing before her. 

A young boy getting his first guitar. 

Him meeting his friends and making a pact with them.

The same boy, older now, writing his first song. 

The boy laying on his bed, fingers brushing against the tattoo on his forearm, identical to hers.

Starting a band with his best friends, his brothers. 

She sees him fight with his mom, loose a relationship so important to him.

She sees him breakdown as he pedals down the street.

He’s there at the mall, the record store, the ice cream parlor, the bowling alley. 

He’s always there. Moments she’s shared with the people in her life, he’s always there. So close but just out of reach. 

Then it’s him meeting her eyes at the coffee shop. Their moment at the shoe store. 

The pictures start flashing faster now and it’s harder for Julie to make out what they are but what is clear to her is that it’s her, growing old with the brunette. With Luke. 

His name is Luke, and he is her soulmate. 

And even though she has never heard their music before, she starts singing. The lyrics of the song written by Luke coming naturally to her. It’s the first time she’s sang in over a year and it feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Luke suddenly can’t hear anything. His bandmate’s instruments fade out and all he seems to be able to hear is an angel-like voice, coming from somewhere in the crowd. 

His eyes search for the source and once he locks eyes with the girl his vision goes black. 

He sees a girl, sitting next to her mother on a piano bench as she makes an attempt to play. 

Then he sees her again, sitting with another girl on the playground, and as all the other kids are playing, they’re performing a song. 

The girl is older now, playing the piano keys in a perfect melody. Her mom is still sitting next to her and she’s smiling down at her. 

She’s in the hospital, carrying her little brother for the first time.

The girl is sitting on the piano again, this time alone and there are tears streaming down her face. 

He sees her loose her mom and therefore her music. He sees her not even hum for over a year. 

Then he sees himself, walking past her, not noticing her. She’s everywhere. That time at the beach with Reggie, she was there, playing with her family. 

His walks down sunset boulevard with her only a few feet away. How could he not notice her? How could he possibly miss her when she shines brighter than anything in the world?

But he notices her now, and he will keep noticing her in the future, as images of her growing old with him and making music together flash before him. 

He comes back to reality to see her still looking at him, singing, and he realizes that he missed his cue, but he doesn’t care, because nothing matters more than the beautiful girl, Julie, who has taken his breath away. 

Julie, his soulmate. 

His tattoo stings and he winces, finally breaking eye contact with Julie to look down. The music notes are glowing and when he looks back up he notices Julie’s are too. 

The music continues and he wonders if everyone is witnessing the moment or if only him and Julie can see. His next verse is coming up and he knows he can’t miss another one so he leans forward to his mic and starts singing, not taking his eyes off of Julie. 

She stares right back, singing the lyrics loudly and passionately. The show continues much the same and if he were to ask anyone, they would say it is the damn best he has ever played. Once it’s over he runs off stage and out the back door, planning to make his way to the front of the bar. He runs down the alleyway and crashes hard into another body. 

Lifting his arms to steady the person, his heart stops. She’s there, standing in front of him, looking up through her lashes and he does the most drastic and impulsive thing he has ever done. 

He kisses her. He kisses her because he is so sure that he would die on the spot if he didn’t. And Julie kisses him back.

Luke cups the back of her neck as she tangles her fingers in his hair. After a couple of seconds, or maybe years, they pull away. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” Julie responds. 

“I’m Luke,” his voice is much too breathy, and he is still attempting to get his lungs to work properly. 

“Julie,” she doesn’t sound much better. 

They both smile and then burst out laughing. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Luke admits once he has calmed down. 

Julie shakes her head. “I would say that we should get to know each other but I just saw your whole life played out, which by the way I have never heard of it happening.” 

Luke’s smile widens. “Well I have also never heard of soulmates meeting and not realizing they are soulmates so I think we’re just special.” 

“Yeah,” Julie says resting her head against his chest and listening to the beat of his heart matching hers. “I think we’re special too.” 

The Universe leans back, smiling down at the pair. They were a hard one, possibly the hardest they’ve ever had to do. But as they study them, already falling in love with each other without having to even say much, they know that it was worth it. The Universe wasn’t ready for Julie Molina and Luke Patterson, but they are now and the whole world better get ready. 

[eretzyisrael]

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

[ruhrohimrorny]

What Subjects I Think LOK Characters Would Teach:

Lin: PE, obviously. Dating Kya and all the kids are happy cause there’s a noticeable shift in Lin’s mood once they start dating. She no longer forces kids to run a mile every day and instead does it once a week now, so the kids are hoping her and Kya stay together. She also coaches Golf and Lacrosse.

Kya: Waffled between MILF Math teacher, MILF Science teacher, and hippy/chill Music teacher, but decided on MILF Science Teacher. Getting strong Biology vibes. Very fun labs and not strict at all. Her and Zhu-Li are super passionate about leading the Science Bowl team. Seeing these young people be so passionate about STEM and helping their fellow teammates makes her hopeful for this young generation.

Tenzin: He kinda gives math teacher vibes, but a large part of his character in the show is about him keeping his history alive, and teaching others abut learning and respecting history, so I feel like he’s a History teacher. His class is a lot of notetaking but he plays quiet music and does a five minute meditation in the middle of class to encourage kids to relax, so students really like him and actually listen to him. Also, he’s kind of gullible so they make up fake trends to tell him. He once spent a week addressing people as “brony” cause students told him thats what people say now instead of bro. Kids got a good laugh out of that one. Him and Pema are another favorite teacher couple.

Bumi II: Def gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes. Very interesting and informative conversations in his class, but things get off topic very quickly. Whenever kids ask about Bum-Ju, he gets distracted and will talk the entire rest of the period about what to dress Bum-Ju up as for Halloween. Probably plays a lot of videos. And students don’t worry about if they read the books Bumi II assigns cause they don’t think he’s even read the books he assigns. When having discussions about the books in class, sometimes kids will make up stuff and say it’s in the book and for the most part, Bumi II goes along with it cause he doesn’t know what actually happens in the books.

Varrick: Also gives off eccentric/unhinged English teacher vibes, but because he’s a businessman/war profiteer, I’m gonna have to say he teaches Econ and gives students lots of unsolicited financial advice. Also supervises the Engineering and Robotics Club.

Zhu-Li: Science teacher, probably Chemistry. She’s very good at explaining and getting kids to follow her instructions. Not only is she a co-supervisor for the Science Bowl team, she helps Varrick run Engineering and Robotics Club, cause if it were only Varrick running it, no kids would come. His intensity and eccentricity scares them.

Iroh II: He’s definitely the young Math teacher everyone has a crush on. Very chill and doesn’t give a lot of homework. Kids love when he shows pictures of his dog to the class and eventually he brings in the dog cause admin think the dog is too cute to say no to.

Tonraq: Resident DILF History teacher. Kind of a hardass but also a nice dude so most everyone passes his class. Probably that History teacher that is also a football coach, so during fall he doesn’t give a FUCK about whether anyone actually turns anything in. Him and Senna is the teacher couple that seems like opposites but actually are pretty similar and balance each other out.

Senna: That English teacher that every mentally ill student becomes emotionally attached to. You know what I’m talking about. She’s so sweet, funny, and chill so all the kids love her class. Tries to include memes in her presentations to seem “with it” but they’re like, doge memes from 2014. But the kids appreciate the effort.

Pema: Definitely the sweet English teacher that occasionally has a mental breakdown when the students test her patience. Otherwise very chill. Also teaches the Childhood Education and Development class. Her, Senna, and Bumi II run the school newspaper.

Bataar: Drafting. Pretty chill, very skilled, and def smokes on the weekend. Also, him and Suyin are that teacher couple that everyone likes.

Suyin: Dance. Super nice and always has like to of those smelly plug in things going so her room smells good and has a “good vibe that evokes emotion”. Always plays EDM or weird 80s rock to get the kids moving. She runs the school dance team. When Bataar has prep period, he sometimes drops in to see Su dance, cause she’s mesmerizing to watch. All the kids think that, coupled with the fact that they eat lunch together every day, makes them the cutest couple ever.

Amon: Drama. He loves directing kids on how to totally live a role. If you can imagine, he sometimes gets a little overdramatic about drama, forgetting that these are just highschool kids, not Oscar winners, but his passion makes the class more enjoyable. Runs Drama Club with Tarrlok.

Tarrlok: Probably Physics. A difficult class, but he’s pretty good at explaining so most kids don’t struggle too much. His main focus is running student government, which he takes pretty seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

Unalaq: Teaches Psychology. The most pretentious teacher on campus. It’s literally so bad, that even other teachers avoid him. Amon abandoned his coffee still being brewed in the machine in the staff room cause Unalaq walked in and he didn’t want to be in a room with Unalaq again after he said that Amon’s outfit “looked like something stolen from the lost and found of a funeral home”. Unalaq sees it as “telling it like it is”.

Zaheer: Government and Politics. Tries to teach the class very well but also injects his own opinion into teaching a lot. The students find him scary but some also kinda think he’s hot. Also does Yearbook. Him and Senna run Mock Trial. Replaced the old Government and Politics teacher Hou-Ting after she retired. She was that one old teacher that made it a hobby to harrass students and constantly reminisced about when you could smack students.

P’Li: Math teacher. Much scarier than Zaheer. Plays her trash ass music very loudly while the kids work. Def yells at kids. She’s kind of funny when she’s in a good mood tho, and when she roasts kids it’s really funny cause it’s usually dead on. Her and Zaheer are those teachers that flirt a lot and you know they’re sleeping together.

Ming-Hua: Art. Loves drawing and, you guessed it, watercolor painting. Very chill and plays soft music but lets you listen to your own music. Super sarcastic and all the students eat it up. Literally a universal favorite. She runs Art Club and Fashion Club.

Ghazan: Guitar. Pretty cool teacher that definitely has some weird stories. All the students know he has a crush on Ming-Hua cause they flirt constantly, but he denies it. Runs E-Sports Club. Idk why I think that, it just feels right. Him and Ming-Hua are also the kinds of teachers kids become emotionally attached to.

Kuvira: Government and Politics also. Seems calm and reasonable, but is a total ass. Makes kids give up their phones, allows almost no talking, gives out more detentions a week than most teachers do in one year, and doesn’t allow for much discussion. Everyone wants her class cause she’s hot but most drop within the first week, to the point that counselors have to say no to some kids so they don’t have to get rid of the class altogether.

Bataar Jr.: Computer Lit teacher. None of the students respect him so they’ll play Minecraft the whole time or play inappropriate videos really loud. Doesn’t really put much effort into teaching, which for some kids is a dream, but for others is an annoyance. Him and Kuvira are the teacher couple that makes everyone say “wtf”. Literally no one knows why they’re together.

Izumi: Secretary/Attendance. Pretty much remembers everything and is super organized. She is the glue that holds the school together. Most students don’t know her name though cause she’s super quiet and works mostly behind the scenes. Whenever Zuko sends anyone her way though he reminds them of her name and to say thank you cause he recognizes how hard his daughter works to keep everything running smoothly. Izumi catches on to this and always manages to thank her dad with a nice tea and a hug.

Toph: Vice Principal. Scary as fuck. Doesn’t ever call kids’ parents cause she efficiently scares the shit out of every kid, so they never do whatever bad thing they were doing again. When she has to work dances, Katara always tries to get her to dance with her. She resists every time, but she always gives eventually. She’s happy to though, cause although she’ll never say it out loud, seeing Katara this happy at her old age warms her heart.

Katara: Health Clerk. Very sweet and everybody loves her. Sometimes kids pretend to feel sick just to talk to her. She doesn’t mind though cause a kid that has a tummy ache and a kid that needs to talk are both kids that need help, and she’s happy to offer whatever support she can. She also always offers to supervise dances when the school has them and always manages to bust a move.

Zuko: Counselor. Wants to be to students what his uncle was to him. Aang and Sokka were counselors too, some years ago. And while they could give some good nuggets of advice and offered the kids amazing support, they also would totally fuck up student’s schedules by accident cause those numbskulls were exactly that- numbskulls. So usually Zuko would have to fix that. He misses fixing their messes and, more importantly, he misses them (they aren’t dead, just retired). He hopes to retire soon too, cause he’s getting too old for this, but he secretly doesn’t want to retire just yet cause working at school allows him to see and spend time with Izumi. Since they’re both working, it’s not like they have too much time together, but even just her popping into his office to bring him tea or check in on how he’s doing that day brings a smile to his face that doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

Raiko: Principal. After Toph stepped down cause she’s “too old for this shit” (her words), Raiko stepped in. The students aren’t a fan of him but he’s not terrible. And since Toph is still Vice Principal, she keeps him in check.