#he possibly feels some dread and she continues with ‘we’re family when we decide we are. But can the people we declare family handle us?’

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

“Hancock is bad with kids” “Hancock is bad with Shaun” no, well, maybe, but where I was getting at was, the objectively funniest dynamic there that I can think of is that Hancock does, indeed, not know what to do around kids BUT Shaun is super curious because of that and will not leave him alone. Hancock will be looking at sole like “I can’t handle this, i don’t know what to do, get your kid” and Shaun is just like “why do you dress like that? Do you still get sunburnt? Do you like lazer rifles? I like lazer rifles.” Like a cat that sees the person ignoring them and goes up to them for attention. And the funniest response from sole is something like “the sunburn question is rude, Shaun” and then they continue doing whatever they were before saying that.

[theshelbyclan]

Brotherly Discomfort

Summary: After ‘the talk’, your brothers are adamant to protect you, but you throw yet another curveball their way. Part 2 to Growing Pains

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​)  A/N: This is part 2 to my most popular fic Growing Pains and I used anon’s request: Could you do a Shelby sis story where she’s a lesbian and in love with a woman and her family doesn’t know. The family is trying to get her into an arranged marriage with a man and she can’t figure out how to tell them she’s a lesbian cause she feels they won’t except her? Sorry if that’s too much. Love your writing so much btw!! Thanks for this request babes, hope I did it justice :)  Words: 2387

*** “Right, Y/N, sit down,” Tommy sighed deeply and pointed at a single chair by the kitchen table, “We need to talk.” As you sat down, three brothers loomed over you. Tommy lit a cigarette like his life depended on it, Arthur couldn’t stand still if his life depended on it and John seemed to have forgotten what his life actually depended on, so he just stood there, unsure of everything. “We’re having another talk,” you stated. The last one, only a few days ago, was still fresh in your mind. 

“We are,” you brother confirmed. Arthur took off his cap like he was attending a funeral and stumbled, “We, uhm… We’ve had an idea.” “Christ,” Polly mumbled from behind her newspaper and you couldn’t agree more. “The thing is,” John finally spoke, “We’ve been worried after we… talked.” “Right,” you nodded, “Because of he subject of our conversation?” “It’s not just that!” your brother continued, with a slight frantic edge to his voice, “You’re growing up, but you’re still running around with the dogs at all hours. You won’t listen to anyone, do whatever you please…” Tommy continued where John faltered, “The truth is, Y/N, you’re getting to be too wild.” “Oh, fuck off, Tom,” and you got up with every intention to leave the room. “Sit down,” he said sternly, “We can’t have another Ada situation.” “Situation?” your eyebrows shot up, “What do you fucking mean by a fucking situation?” “The baby, Y/N,” Arthur explained. “I’m sorry,” you were boiling inside now, “but please explain: was the baby the problem or the man she had the baby with the problem? Or possibly, maybe, the fact that you three had no say in the matter?!” “That’s not the point,” John could feel this conversation wasn’t going as planned, “The thing is we couldn’t stop it!” Polly scoffed behind you, so at least you felt like someone was on your side. After a few moments of silence, your anger got the better of you and you slammed a hand down on the table in a very Tommy manner, “So what did you three fucking geniuses come up with?” Tommy pointed at you menacingly, “You fucking watch your mouth. You may be sixteen but I will still wash your mouth out with soap if you don’t mind that tongue…” “Minding my tongue…” you repeated, rolling your eyes, “Fine. So, what’s the plan? Arthur? John? Are we going back to the old ways and am I being married off to some good gypsy boy?” You turned around at Polly and laughed at your own joke, but when the room fell silent once again, you realised you’d hit the jackpot. Arthur had known you since the day you were born. He’d been twelve at the time and he could recognise every little expression on your face. Like when you were little, you used to scrunch up your nose just before you were about to cry for hunger. Or when you were sad, a small wobble in your chin just before the tears. Or when you were angry, a wrinkle in your forehead gave away the tantrum that was about to follow. This was happening right now. So he held up both hands and said, “Y/N, he’s from a good family…” “Nope,” you said, adamantly. “He is,” John confirmed gently, “and he has horses.” “Fucking no,” you shook your head. Tommy sighed, “We already made the deal.” “You promised your sister, just like that. That’s low, even coming from you, Thomas,” Polly’s cold voice sounded. If there was one person who could break his tough exterior, it was his aunt, “Well, what the fuck should we have done, Pol? Let her run wild, like you, eh?” But you stood up and walked over to Tommy. This was the man who had raised you, cared for you and disciplined you most of all, but right now, none of it mattered. So you slapped him hard, once. “Undo it Tommy,” you hissed, “Undo it or I’ll fucking cut you.” In the background you could hear Arthur mumble at once, “Okay, we’ll undo it…” “Give me one good reason,” your brother’s face, now only inches away, remained emotionless. You sighed and decided to throw all caution to the wind. “Anna,” you said, calmly. “What?” John asked immediately. So you repeated, voice raised, “Anna!” Three frowning brother stared at you, not understanding at all. “Remember when you asked me what hisname was, last week?” you called out exasperated. “’John’, wasn’t it?” Arthur looked at you. “No, it wasn’t fucking ‘John’, Arthur, she just said so,” John explained to his oldest brother. Tommy lit another cigarette, “What’s your point, Y/N?” You pointed at your neck where the nearly faded hickey could still be seen if you knew, “The name of the girl who gave me this is Anna.” “That would be bloody fantastic actually, because we wouldn’t have to worry anymore about a baby situation…” John squinted, “I think she’s serious…” “Oooooh fuck…” Arthur sighed, suddenly connecting the dots; “We’ve been keeping an eye on the wrong fucking people, John.” But John burst out laughing, “Didn’t see that one coming, did you, Tommy?” Slowly, your brother sat down and started smoking his second cigarette, “Pol, contact Madame Ross, tell her the wedding is off.” But Aunt Polly was having none of it, “You got us into this mess, you can fix it.” And then fear settled suddenly into the pit of your stomach. You looked at Tommy and asked softly, “Are you mad?” “Nope,” he said, head dropped down into his hands. “Disappointed?” “No, I’m not disappointed. But you should’ve told us, eh?” You shrugged, “Didn’t think you’d… approve.” “Why?” John asked, “We don’t care that you like women.” And all the love you had in you went out to your brother in that very moment. “Y/N,” Arthur started and he looked so angry that uncertainty took over again, “Why the fuck did you not tell us before we… explained?” “Because it was hilarious,” Polly commented unhelpfully. John started giggling again, “Fucking unnecessary is what it was.” “Arthur?” you asked, fear seeping into your voice. He sighed deeply, fidgeting with his hat, “It’s not the women, Y/N, I don’t care about that. It’s you and… anyone really. I don’t like the idea of you with anyone. Remember when she used to play with the coals, remember John?” “Yeah, I remember,” John smiled. “Black like the night she’d be!” Arthur remembered out loud, “Sweet and innocent.” “Well, she’s not anymore,” Polly sipped her tea. “I fucking see that and I don’t like it,” you eldest brother’s smile faded quickly. “Right,” Tommy raised his head again, “Guess we need to change our approach.” “There really no need…” you started. But he continued, ignoring you, “So you like girls, eh?” “Yep,” you confirmed meekly. “Only girls?” You nodded, “Well, one in particular.” Arthur looked at Tommy like he would have all the answers, “Now what, Tom?” You could now start to see the humour in all of it. Your brothers’ faces were an absolute picture! John could hardly contain his laughter, Tommy looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and Arthur was filled with the absolute dread at another conversation like the one you had last week. “Oh, come on!” John called out, “I’m sure we could offer some advice!” He winked at you and a smile spread across your face. “Yeah!” you said, “I mean you all like women, right? This should be even easier!” “It’s not,” Arthur muttered. “I like women,” John said to no one in particular. “What about you, Tommy?” you asked your brother sweetly. But he just rolled his eyes and continued smoking. A part of you wanted to joke about him and Alfie, but you decided against it at the last second. “Horses?” you ventured, “Tommy, any advice on this with the famous analogy of horses? “Horses don’t really…” he waved a hand, coughed and stopped talking all together. “Well, at least you don’t have to be afraid of her getting pregnant,” John said to Arthur, who was as white as a sheet now. “That’s right,” he replied in a low voice, “but that’s my entire speech out the window, because there’s no waiting ‘till bloody marriage either…” “Well,” you tried to comfort your older brother, “You did offer me some good advice the last time, Arthur. You said there was no hurry and to not do it unless I wanted to?” “Right! I did say that. That, yes, it still stands!” Arthur looked around the kitchen triumphantly. “And John,” you continued, “you said to not put anything in my mouth unless I wanted to. Sound advice that was, now more than ever!” “Fucking hell,” Arthur crumbled again, “I can’t do this again. Tom, say something.” “Women….” Tommy started off vaguely waving his cigarette around, “they want love.” “We do.” “And they always want to take things slow.” “Can you imagine?” John interrupted, “Two women together? Must take ages…” “You’d be surprised…” you started, but when you saw your other brothers’ faces, you shut your mouth quickly. Tommy glared daggers at his brother and then turned to you, “How did you become an expert all of a sudden, eh?” “Talked to Ada,” you shrugged. “You talked to Ada…” he repeated lowly and threw his head back. “Wait,” John said suddenly, “Is this why you hate wearing dresses?” “Or why you drink whiskey like a man?” Arthur added, carefully. “That’s just because she’s a Shelby,” Polly explained matter-of-factly. “Or why you never sit on chairs?” John continued, “Or hang out at the factory all the time! Or why you always talk about votes for women…” You held up a hand to stop your brother, “None of that has anything to do with me liking women, John. That’s just… me.” “So what does have to do with you liking women?” your other brother asked in his typical low voice. “Me liking women…?” “So how does it work exactly?” John furrowed his brows, “Like, without… a man there?” “John,” Arthur warned him with a grumble. “Well, both people are enjoying themselves, for starters…” you replied in earnest. “Fucking hell,” the eldest interrupted, “She’s turning into Ada, she bloody is.” “Have you never seen two women together, Arthur?” you asked innocently, “Not even in London?” “They’re all mad bastards down in London, Y/N, the things I’ve seen there…” “Well, imagine me now.” Tommy had just taken a sip of his whiskey and practically choked on the spot, “That’s fucking it. You’re not to go near the BSA again!” “Why?” you called out, “It’s not like all the women in the world are gathered at the BSA!” “I will not have you behaving,” he struggled to find the words but finally spit, “like those fucking women in London!” “Don’t worry, Tommy,” you tried to comfort him, “I’m still… we haven’t actually…” “Oh, thank God,” Arthur sank down in his chair. “Well, when you do, just be gentle, alright?” John offered some advice, “And light a candle! Women love candles.” “Candles, check,” you noted. Tommy downed his whiskey, recomposed himself and added, “And make sure they’re in the mood first…” “To get ‘happy’,” you said, “like Arthur said last time,” “Yes,” he sighed deeply.

“Cut your nails,” John said out of the blue, “Esme told me.”

Arthur turned to his brother, “What the bloody hell do nails have to do with anything?”

“Well, it’s for when you…”

But Tommy silenced you with a gesture, “Please, Y/N, don’t.”

“Right,” and the quiet returned in the small kitchen. Well, at least now they knew, so that terrifying bit was out of the way. Apart from that, you weren’t quite sure if this was going great, because your brothers seemed absolutely petrified and slightly annoyed at your sudden revelation. Maybe it would’ve been better if you hadn’t told them. Then again, marrying a ‘good gypsy boy’ was the last thing you wanted in life. So maybe you could lighten the mood just a little.

“I have a better idea,” a sudden glint came into your eyes, “How about I offer all of you some advice!” The tables had turned already and this couldn’t possibly get any more awkward.

“Nope,” Arthur stood up and promptly marched out of the kitchen, talking to himself, “I can’t. That’s my baby sister and I just fucking can’t...”

“Arthur, where are you going?” Polly called after him, mirth clearly audible in her voice. And he replied, “I’m going to find this Anna, make sure she’s from a good family…” And then he was gone.

Tommy looked from you to Polly for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and mumbled something about business. Polly smirked at you and his face was full of annoyance at it all, “I need to get back to Dangerous. The horse. Tell me some other time, eh?”

“Tommy,” you asked carefully, “Are you sure you’re not mad about me liking women?”

“Princess, I honestly don’t give a fuck who you like,” he said, while putting on his coat and hat, “I just want to meet this Anna and if she hurts you, I’ll still kill her. None of that has changed, eh?”

This was strangely comforting to you.

And just as you were about to offer some unwanted advice, he left the kitchen in a hurry and called over his shoulder, “If you have any questions, Ada apparently has all the fucking answers!”

So you turned to your aunt, “That went well, didn’t it?”

“At least the wedding’s off.”

“Thank fuck,” you smirked and Polly smiled at you encouragingly, “You don’t mind, Aunt Pol, do you?”

“I’m with Tommy,” she said returning to her stern voice, “The fact that it’s a woman won’t make me hesitate.”

“Right,” you nodded, “She makes me happy, though.”

“Good,” Aunt Polly continued to read the newspaper, “Bring her over for tea. Let’s make the boys really uncomfortable, shall we?”

Still laughing, you stood up with the intention of getting on with your homework, when you suddenly noticed John was still sitting on the chair in the back of the kitchen.

“What do you want?” you asked him bluntly.

“I’m waiting,” he said, hands upturned, “You promised me some advice, remember?”

***

Masterlist

[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

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Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

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They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

.

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

.

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

.

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

.

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

.

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[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.

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :) Part 8

News gets out and everyone handles it calmly and respectfully.

First< Previous >Next

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

“Hi Tom, Sabine, how are you,” Selina gives a fake smile, not waiting for them to answer, “So Marinette's in town,”

“Yes is something wrong?” Tom asks worriedly.

“No nothing is wrong,” If you didn’t count the villain attacking the pool yesterday as wrong, “It’s just um, you know how I never told you who her father was?”

“Yes,”

“Well, apparently Gotham didn’t need the help and figured it out pretty much immediately,”

“So does that mean we finally get to be in the loop?” Tom’s eyes sparkle, he had always bothered her for the identity of his adopted daughter's father.

“Oh no one special, you probably haven’t heard of him,” They most certainly have, “Bruce Wayne?”

“... You dated Bruce Wayne?” The man who had become like a brother to her asks.

“I’m actually engaged to him now,” that already sounded so complicated and it wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. How did her life become so complicated? Well, at least she had managed to keep Marinette from it, well at least for a while.

“Congratulations!” He booms, “Oh what's the theme? We'll make you a cake! Wait no we cant send it by plane… what am I talking about! We’ll come to Gotham to make it! Unless it’s a destination wedding? A beach might be hard but I’m always up for a challenge,”

“Tom, Tom, it’s exciting I know,” Where did Marinette fall on the nature vs nurture scale? Because these two reacted exactly the same way, “But we have bigger problems right now!”

“What's the matter, Selina?” Sabine asks with motherly concern, much better than Selina could ever hope to manage.

“People figured it out… pretty much the second she stepped into Gotham at that,” Selina sighs, “The press is going crazy with theories, paparazzi basically stalking Marinette, Bruce is trying to talk to her about it … and he saw me with her, he knows somethings up,”

“Do you think it’s time we spilled the beans?” Tom asks, calming down from his wedding excitement, “Marinette's always known she was adopted but…”

“Not that I’m her mother? Yeah,” Silence hangs in the air for a while, the screen being the only source of light in her dark safe house, “You know I can try and work through this, no one has to know,”

“Hm…. if you think it’s best,” Sabine nods, before looking to her husband, “But if you want or need to tell people this would be the time,”

“Is… is that alright with you?”

“We love Marinette, and we know she’ll still love us no matter what, if our little family wants to grow then we should let it!” Tom exclaims, she should have known they would be fine with it, always so accepting that's one of the reasons she chose them to take care of her daughter.

“I’ll think about it,” She promises, cutting off the call to be alone with her thoughts.

Apparently her biggest hurdle was actually plucking up the courage to tell everyone. She thought she should at least tell Marinette, but lo and behold here they were in the Wayne manor waiting to hold a meeting about how to handle the rumor and Marinette is still in the dark. Well, she has no other choice but to commit now, try and get Marinette through her trip and out of the city without anyone being the wiser. Hell, she had kept the world's greatest detective from knowing for all these years surely this would be no more trouble.

Despite that, she ran into a little bitty problem while Bruce was explaining to Marinette how to handle the press; her conscience. It had been this annoying thing that started growing more and more as she spent time around Bruce. And now that they were engaged it decided to be a royal pain in her neck trying to convince her to be honest and tell the truth, how was that going to help with their marriage!

Surely this would be the worst possible place to admit it. Not only was Marinette and Bruce here, but the entire damn Batfamily to boot, sans Jason. If she were to tell now there would no doubt be bloodshed. No, the best way, if she was going to tell them, would be later in private, she could get Bruce to drive them back to the hotel and take a detour along the way, then she could tell them and bam! They would both know and her conscience would leave her alone, that was certainly the best plan of action-

And then Marinette smiled at him and Bruce smiled back, she didn’t even know what was said but goddammit-

“Marinette's our daughter!”

Everything in the room stops. Even those happy to mill about their conversation on the other size pause, a glass drops, she doesn't even wait for it to shatter before continuing. Floodgates are open now, no going back.

“Seventeen years ago, took her to Paris, pretended to be her Aunt, let Tom and Sabine raise her!” She stood up, bolting from the room, not stopping until she was far from Wayne manor.

Yep, I think I handled that well.

They all stood frozen, staring at the door Aunt, no Selina, her Mother had just run out. Everything was silent, for about two seconds before incomprehensible screeching. Or at least that's what it sounded like to her as everyone started shouting over each other.

“Did you know!?”

“No! How would I know?!”

“How could you not know! Everyone else did!”

“You didn’t!”

“That's because he said it wasn't true!”

“How the fuck-”

“Bruce why ,”

“By god how reckless can you be!?”

“This is… wow,”

Marinette didn’t stick around to hear the rest, slipping out the door Selina had disappeared through, like mother like daughter she guessed. Speaking of, she needed to call her Maman and Papa first, had the known all along? She was meant to just be an average girl… who’s a superhero… and vigilante…. And famous fashion designer…. And guardian- ok maybe she hadn't done a great job at the whole ‘ordinary girl’ thing, be she had liked to think she was normal at least once in her life… apparently not.

“Marinette sweetie!” Her Papa’s voice boomed over the call, “How are you?”

“Aunt Selina- not- how- I-”

“Oh, she told you?” Her Maman spoke more quietly than her Papa, calm voice calming her down.

“Me, and everyone else,” Marinette sat down at the steps to Wayne Manor, looking out at the front gardens without really seeing anything.

“Yes we thought she might, are you ok sweetie?”

“I’m shocked,”

“Yes well knowing her she didn’t handle it too well,” Papa spoke knowingly.

“She bolted now I’m stuck at Wayne Manor,” Marinette supplies, not that she really had a better place to be.

“Yes, that's like her,” She can hear her Maman laugh a little, “How are you feeling?”

“A little confused,” A lot confused.

“When she was pregnant with you she came to us, she and Bruce apparently didn’t have a very stable relationship back then and didn’t think either of them could take care of you,” Maman explains, “So she came to us, asking for just to raise you, she wasn't going to be a part of your life but I think she loved you more than expected because she kept coming back and eventually became your Auntie Selina,”

“Thats… wow,”

“Need some time?”

“Yeah,”

“Take all the time you need,” Papa encouraged, “We’re always here for you, and we love you,”

“I love you too,” Marinette smiles, letting the call drop staring off into nothingness.

The Kwamis came out of hiding to cuddle close but left her to her thoughts which Marinette appreciated. They sat in silence for a long time, Marinette worked out that she didn’t mind so much. Sure it was a shock, but it didn’t change how much she loved her parents, and it meant her family had just gotten a little bigger, or a lot bigger as Bruce had introduced her to a lot of people. The only thing left to worry about was the others, they didn’t seem very happy at the news.

Before Marinette can let the dread of that fester too long the front door opens, catching her attention as Bruce steps through. He seemed tired, and was that bruise a punch mark!?- no nevermind she wasn't going to ask. He comes to sit down next to her, neither talking for a while as they both stare out at the garden.

“... So Selina left?” He asks eventually.

“Yep, and I don’t think she’s coming back any time soon,”

“Of course not,” She shakes his head, a little amused, “Did she tell you?”

“No, but my parents knew- wait I didn’t mean!-”

“It’s fine,” He assures, settling her panic, “I just found out, I can hardly be considered a parent,”

“Guess not… What about the others?”

“Oh they’re a little shocked,” Bruce puts it lightly, his bruise being a dead give away, “I think they expected me to adopt you long before suspecting we were already related,”

“Just how many siblings do I have,” Marinette half mutters to herself, “wait- are they my siblings?”

“Depends who you ask, Dick? Yes, I think he already left to find decorations for your room,”

“I have a room?”

“If Dick has anything to say about it, also I suspect Alfred already set you up one, although I couldn't tell you when,”

“Of course he did,” That man seemed to know more than all of them combined, “So does that mean I can stay over some time?”

“Certainly, although I might suggest waiting a day or two,” He looks back at the mansion, light-catching his bruise.

“I might give it three, just to be sure,” She smiles, still wondering what happened there.

They start talking, catching up on each other's lives. Marinette skirts around anything that doesn't pertain to her identity as Marinette, Ladybug, MDC, Starling the whole gang. They are only interrupted by Marinette's phone buzzing, she picks it up, Adrien was the one to call but both Chloe and Kagami are there with him.

“Marinette,” Adrien says urgently, “Remember Cuppy?”

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

Taglist (sorry put the taglist for another fic before fixed it now)

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16  @caffeinetheory   @g-arya   @Maribat-2k20   @ladybug-182    @Actual-disaster-human    @fusser90   @messrs-weasley   @soap-lady  @paintedhope7   @zeneralla    @mochegato     @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178  @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen   @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster  @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95 @biodad-bruce-month @hansa-12 @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @how-to-fuction-properly @trippingovermyfeet @greekmythgal @whatthefox22 @the-alice-of-hearts @bigpicklebananatree @indecisive-mess-named-me @nalu-ismyjam @deepestobservationwombat @salamonka

[lyranova]

Children of the Future:

Chapter 13: Suspicions

Hi guys! I’m so sorry its taken so long to get this chapter out, I hope you guys enjoy it! Chapter 14 will be reblogged soon I gotta make a few edits first but it should only be a day or two hehe. Also the story is kinda picking up a bit in this chapter but not too much hehe, I hope you all enjoy~!

Taglist: @eme-eleff @crazyclownthanos @ckjwnnbc @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @talpup @elysianluv @melissa-novachrono @jovialnoise @bowandcurtsey @simpingforthisonedeer @flow3rbudz (if anyone else wants to be added please let me know or if i forgot to add you please let me know!)

Word Count: 2,216

Warnings: None

———

William glanced over his shoulder at the two members of his squad, Yuno and Neva, and their ‘daughter’ Miku. This wasn’t what he had been expecting when Marx asked him to come up to the castle as there was something he needed to see, but Yami seemed to have an inkling because he had the smuggest grin on his face and was almost too happy about William getting a call from Marx. That should have been his first clue as to what was going on.

After Marx had met him at the doors and explained the situation William had been expecting the members to be either Klaus or even Alecdora, but insteadWilliam had been very surprised to see that it was in fact Yuno and Neva. Those were the last two he had thought of when Marx was telling him the details, but after seeing the young girl and seeing his two squad members there was no denying that she was their daughter. She looked like Neva but with black hair, her serious face was a perfect blend of Yuno’s and Neva’s, but she appeared to carry herself more like Yuno then Neva. This was interesting.

“ Is everyone alright?” William asked as he glanced over his shoulder, the three nodded but remained silent. Apparently they were all still trying to process this information, it was no secret that Yuno and Neva had a crush on each other, but it seemed the only ones who didn’t know about this, were the two in question. William let out a soft sigh before walking out the castle doors and walking towards the brooms.

“ Captain, where exactly are we going?” Neva asked as she grabbed one of the brooms, Yuno began to use his wind magic to make himself a transportation vessel. Miku looked between the two before walking towards Neva and her broom, apparently she wasn’t very comfortable flying using wind magic.

“ We have a house not too far from here that we’ve all been staying in the past few days, just until we’ve gotten things sorted out with the children and how to get them back home.” William explained simply before stepping onto his broom, Neva did the same as Miku sat behind her and wrapped her arms around the blonde haired woman's middle, and Yuno summoned his wind vessel.

“ ‘We’ve’?” Both Neva and Yuno said at the same time, just how many people were there?

———

They all landed softly outside the house a few moments later and walked up to the door, dread was steadily filling William. He knew Yami was going to enjoy this too much, especially since so far every child had been connected to the Black Bulls in some way. He opened the door slowly and looked inside, some of the kids appeared to be at the dining table while others were in the common room. Zora and Nebra were on two opposite ends of the common room, would there come a time those two could look past their differences? Even if it was only for Ace’s sake? William didn’t know at this point. Charlotte and Yami were sitting at the dining table with Alistar and Hikari, all of them appeared to be having a pleasant conversation. Except Yami continuously glared at Alistar, probably because of what Zora said yesterday.

“ Y’know Captain,” Neva started as she looked around the house. “ when you said ‘we’ I was kind of assuming there would be a few people but not-.”

“ Almost an entire squad.” Yuno finished as he looked around himself, William let out a soft chuckle before nodding in agreement.

“ Yes, I guess you could say we’re slowly becoming our own squad. But we make it work.” William shrugged before everyone finally seemed to take notice that there were new people in the house.

“ Hah! Finally, Goldie Guts is going through what I’ve been going through the past few days!” Yami said with a shout of laughter, William chuckled as he walked towards the dining table.

“ Yes the universe decided to finally take pity on you and give you a small reprieve from the future children.” William said, Yami grumbled something under his breath as Hikari and Charlotte also began to laugh softly. Alistar frowned and looked around his father to see who it was and his eyes widened slightly; it was his Auntie Neva and Yuno, which meant it was one of three possible children.

The white haired man stood up and tried his best to look around the two Golden Dawn members to see which child it was, but they were hiding behind their ‘parents’ legs all too well. From what he could see it was a girl, which left two options and he had a feeling he knew which of the two it was.

“ Miku? Is that you?” He called out softly, he watched as the girl poked her head between her parents to look and see who was calling her and she blinked when her eyes landed on the young man.

“ Oh, hi Alistar.” The girl said softly as she moved to stand in front of her parents.

Hikari turned to look at Alistar and frowned; he had relief in his eyes, but he also held confusion and genuine surprise. She turned to look back at the young 12 year old girl, Hikari had only interacted with her a few times so she didn’t know her that well, but she seemed surprised as well, except she was better at hiding it then Alistar.

The white haired man walked away from the dining table and moved to stand in front of Miku, he crouched down in front of her. The two just stared at each other silently as everyone else looked on curiously, it was as though the two were speaking telepathically.

“ What are you doing here?” They asked in unison, apparently neither one had expected to see the other here. Alistar frowned a bit before standing and holding out his hand, Miku looked at him with a frown.

“ I need to talk to you a bit outside if that's ok?” He asked politely and with a soft warm smile, Miku rolled her eyes and walked past him.

“ Of course it’s alright, but I’m not a kid anymore so I don’t need to hold your hand.” She grumbled, Alistar let out a small chuckle before following the girl out of the house.

Everyone just stood there in confusion, completely unsure of what just happened. The two seemed to know each other pretty well, but it still felt like everyone had missed out on some big piece of information that only those two seemed privy to.

“ Alistar and Miku are ‘cousins’ not by blood but more like by choice,” Hikari began to explain. “ since Captain Vangeance and Neva have a sibling-like relationship, Alistar and Miku, along with Miku’s siblings, have adopted a familial relationship as well. So they affectionately call each others ‘cousin’ as well as call Captain Vangeance ‘Uncle William’ and Alistar calls Neva ‘Auntie Neva’.” Hikari added with a shrug, everyone’s confusion seemed to clear slightly, but not completely.

“ Miku’s siblings?” Neva and Yuno once again asked at the same time before they both seemed to pale, this was beginning to be too much for them to handle. They could take down a devil and invade a kingdom set on destroying and taking over the continent and be perfectly ok, but finding out they had children together? Nope, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

“ Erm, oops?” Hikari said with a nervous laugh, she had said more than she had meant too. Charlotte stood suddenly before looking at Yami and William.

“ I would actually like to speak with you two privately as well.” She said, The two Captains in question looked at each other before nodding and following behind Charlotte as she walked down one of the hallways of the house.

As the Captains left everyone just stood there awkwardly, not really sure of what to do now, since it appeared everyone was having secret conversations.

“ So, nice weather we’re having huh?”

———

Hikari frowned as she watched Alistar and Miku talk, she was watching them through the kitchen window as she assumed they would hear her if she stepped outside. She wondered what on earth they could be talking about, especially since it appeared to be a private conversation. Did it have to do with what Alistar told her a few days ago? About why they had been sent back? If so, then why was Miku sent back as well? It made no sense, especially since she wasn’t-.

“ Y’know,” Josslyn said suddenly, accidentally startling Hikari. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t sensed the girls Ki or heard her approach. “ There’s something very strange going on with Pretty Boy and the little Princess.” She added.

“ Strange? What do you mean?” Hikari asked, feigning slight ignorance. The pink haired girl scoffed, clearly seeing through Hikari’s lie.

“ You know exactly what I mean, you and Pretty boy are having secret conversations late at night, he’s wearing a normal magic knight's robe instead of his Captain's one, he dodges every question about himself and why he’s here. He’s acting stranger than usual. As though he knows something.” Josslyn said with slight irritation, Hikari could understand the girl's frustration as she was feeling the same, But.

“ We need to trust him. I’m sure he knows what’s truly going on here and why we’re being sent back. But he can’t tell us, not yet. So for now, until he can tell us, we just have to trust him.” Hikari said softly, Josslyn scoffed again.

“ Well you can trust him all you want, but I won’t. The only one I trust here is you and myself, so I guess if you trust him then I’ll trust your judgment. But if anything seems even more suspicious then what it already is, than I’m going to make him talk, willingly or unwillingly.” Josslyn said seriously, Hikari let out a sigh but nodded. She already knew how a fight between the two would turn out, and she can’t say Josslyn would win.

“ Y’know, I could sneak outside and listen to their conversation? They wouldn’t even know I was there.” The pink haired girl said after a moment of quiet fell between the two, Hikari grabbed the girl's arm before she could run off and dragged her into the kitchen.

“ Oh no you’re not. You’re going to help me with dinner.”

———

Yami sighed as he closed the door behind him, Charlotte sat down on the bed as William and Yami leaned against the walls on either side of the door.

“ So what did you want to talk about Princess?” Yami asked as he crossed his arms.

“ I’ve been wondering recently, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, but did you ever wonder why Lord Julius gave us this house in particular? I mean, at first it was only three of us living here and the house was too big for just three people. He could have easily given us a smaller house to stay in, but instead he chose this one.” Charlotte started curiously, Yami tilted his head.

“ Maybe he felt like we needed the space?” Yami reasoned with a shrug.

“ As much as I would like to believe that, Lord Julius is a very smart man and he plans things out pretty meticulously. So I doubt he felt that we needed a big house just for the sake of it.” Charlotte argued, William crossed his arms as well.

“ What are you saying Charlotte? You think Julius knew that this was going to happen?” He asked her, the room went deadly silent for a moment before Charlotte spoke cautiously.

“ I...I’m not sure. But it seems all the signs are pointing to that conclusion. Otherwise, why else give us this house with a bunch of rooms and with a wide open field where we could all train if we needed too.” Charlotte said, none of them wanted to believe Julius knew this was going to happen, but considering he did have time magic, maybe it was possible he saw the future or otherwise somehow knew this would be happening?

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

“ C-Captain Roselei? We need you in the kitchen, Josslyn almost burned it down.” Ace called softly before they heard him walk away. Charlotte sighed before standing and walking towards the door.

“ We keep this between us, we don’t have the full story and I could easily be wrong, but for now, I think we should assume Julius knows more than what he’s letting on.” Charlotte said before walking out of the room, William and Yami shared a look between them. They wouldn’t be completely surprised if Julius was hiding something, but that didn’t mean they still wanted it to be true. The two Captains followed Charlotte out of the room and into the kitchen.

“ Honestly? As long as my squad doesn’t have any more kids coming back, I don’t care how many come from the future.” Yami said with a laugh.

But, the universe had a twisted sense of humor as well, and Yami would find that out the hard way the next morning.

———

I’m sorry this isn’t very good and its very rushed but I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.5

Pt.1  Pt.2  Pt.3  Pt.4  Pt.5  Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, angst, secret relationship plot, kinda royal au, arranged marriage plot, fighting

a/n: Hope everyone is doing well. Here is the second to last part. I’m going to upload the final part right after I upload this one. Just so y’all aren’t waiting for the resolve :)

Word count: 1.7K

Loki x female!reader

Feeling the pebbles roll under your feet, you felt your legs begin to shake with anticipation and dread. The panic that you were holding off while with Loki was beginning to come back and you wanted to turn and run the other way. You knew you needed to do this and finally come clean to your parents but the idea was just so awful you wanted to run and hide away forever. 

Before you knew it you were standing out front of your childhood home feeling a bubble of unease build in your throat. Breathing deep and exhaling hard, you put your hand on the doorknob and stepped inside your home. Your family once again sitting at the dining table talking amongst one another.

There was someone you didn’t recognize sitting in what was normally your seat. You felt the energy shift around you and suddenly you felt something worse than panic settle in your gut.

“Y/N, there you are! We were so worried when you didn’t come home last night. You haven’t done that in a while. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Your mother rose from her chair, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. Your father looked at you with disdain on his features, obviously trying to figure out where you were in the night.

“Glad to know you’re alright, Y/N. Come sit down and meet who we think might be a perfect suitor for you.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. You felt your face get hot and your emotions were mixing with intense anger and despondency. You didn’t want to have to fake interaction with someone you knew nothing about let alone didn’t care learning about. It would be adulterous to Loki and you couldn’t bear the thought of engaging in such horror. You found your courage and finally decided to put your foot down in this situation.

“Actually, that is what I was coming to talk to you guys about. I found someone. I have for over a year now.”

“What?! Y/N that’s amazing but why haven’t you told us anything.���

Your mother’s eyes lit up in curiosity wondering why you were so private with something that was causing you such trouble. 

“I’ve been fearful of your reaction to whom it is I have found boundless love with.”

Your father’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion waiting for you to continue your declaration. Your mother on the other hand was just overjoyed that her dearest daughter had found somebody. You opened your mouth again before your mother cut you off,

“Well, what’s his name? I want to know everything about him!”

You sighed, the next words you had to speak feeling like lead on your tongue. 

“Y-you know the all-father?”

“Y/N! Are you courting Thor??”

Your father tapped your mother’s hand in discipline,

“Let her speak and you will find out. Stop interrupting her”

You sighed again, playing with your fingers out of anxiety about what you were about to say next.

“I-it’s actually his brother. Loki.”

The air became suffocating. Loki’s name always putting a sour thought in people’s minds because of his notorious behavior. You felt the excitement in the air turn to disappointment and rotted curiosity. 

“We met in one of the gardens a year ago and something about us was magnetic and drew us together. We started out with a friendship and a few months in he asked if courtship would be a viable option to further our relationship. I said yes reluctantly because I feared your responses so deeply.”

You decided to lay it out all on the table hoping that maybe it would persuade their opinion of someone that they felt so little for.

“He cares for me with such truth. I’ve never felt this with anyone before and the way that he understands me makes me feel like I have finally been found. He loves me with such ardor that I feel complete finally. All that was thought of him is something of the past. He has matured indefinitely and the feelings I have formed for him are incessant and I can’t let that go.”

Finally letting out all the extra air in your lungs you felt such a weight lifted off your chest. You still feared what their answer would be regarding their approval but they knew now. If they cared for you like they said they did they would be able to see your admiration for your current partner. And you hoped that would be enough to not have your parents strip that from you.

“Y/N...of all the people you could have chosen. That treacherous excuse for a god is where you let your feelings reside?!”

Your father’s response made you feel sick. This is exactly what you were predicting what would happen. But your mother was unusually silent. Her eyes drifted off to space on the floor and it was difficult to read what she was thinking of. Your father stood up from his chair and spoke again, his voice thick with dismay.

“Loki?! How could you let yourself stoop so low? He’s nothing but a troublemaker and you for some reason have become so weak to fall for him. Where did I go wrong wit-?”

“-Alright that’s enough, dear.”

Your mother finally spoke up and cut your father off. He looked at her incredulously and at that moment you began to feel such regret for the man that was still stuck at the table. Falling victim to the conflict between you and your parents. Your mother spoke again,

“Maybe, just maybe dear, we were wrong about him. Our daughter is not a halfwit. She has such a powerful mind and she has waited this long to find a suitor for her to make her happy. Perhaps we should give them our blessing. If she’s happy then that is all that matters. It is not our life to live.”

“No! I cannot and will not allow that dope to spoil our daughter. Let alone create a family with him. I don’t care how luxurious that tower it is you stay in with him but get your last visit in-”

“Father.-”

“This is non-negotiable. My heels have been dug-”

“Father, I may bear his child.”

The silence that fell over the room was deafening. You could hear the rise and fall of each person’s breath and it was haunting. You hadn’t yet known if this was a possibility but with the night's previous endeavors, it wasn’t a shot in the dark. It was your last-ditch effort and you were willing to do anything to keep Loki in your life.

“You what?”

Your father stepped closer to you trying to find the lie in your demeanor but it was never found. 

“Dear, please do not chastise her. What is done is done. We must give the blessing now. Child out of wedlock is not something I want to be stained on our or his family's name.”

Your mother stood up and came to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to sit down at the table. Wrapping her hands around yours she spoke with such serene.

“My Y/N. You are like an untamed bull. Your headstrong nature will catch up to you one day but with that being said. I am more than happy that you have finally found your person. If he treats you as well as you say he does then that is all I can ask from him. I can only hope to meet him soon and that he knows he is welcome in our home. The blessing you seek is already had.”

“Says who?”

Your father chimed in

“She needs both of our blessings to go through with his eloping and as far as I am concerned. I have yet to give her the go-ahead. I am not giving away my daughter to someone who has yet to show truth and consistency in something other than mischief. I will not allow it! And that’s final!”

The tears that were once falling in joy were now falling down hot in fear. 

Why must he be like this? My happiness matters too.

Pointing to the man at the table your father spoke through gritted teeth and told him to get out. He had no business being there anymore anyway. And with the direction the conversation was going, it wouldn’t be fair to have him in the mix.  

“As for you. You aren’t to see that man again.”

“No! Dad, wait! You can’t do this. Please, he’s the only person outside of you guys who has seen me for me! Please do not take that away from me!”

Your heart was doing backflips in your chest and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that you had built up was beginning to crumble. 

“You aren’t to see him until my mind is made. I’m beyond disappointed in you and at the root of it all, I am unsure of what to think.”

“Dear if she is to be with chi-”

“I KNOW! But that doesn't mean I feel any different towards the bastard. For all I know he took advantage of her, knowing her situation and now we're stuck with the consequence.”

“Father, it’s not like that I swear!”

“Enough! You have said enough today.”

Removing your hands from your mother's, you hung your head in your hands. The tears now overflowing as you hit your breaking point. 

“Your tears will not alter my decision any faster so you can give that a rest, Y/N.”

Standing up from the chair you were overcome with anger. Your voice was meek because of all the pressure built up in your throat but you made sure to make your point delivered. 

“If you ever pretended to care about half as much as you say you do, all those snarky remarks you make would be void. You cannot control me forever. If you loved me outwardly half as much as you say you do, you would’ve listened to me, but you never did.”

Walking toward your bedroom you couldn’t bear to speak anymore or be in the environment of the main room. It was deadly and you needed to rest. Closing the door you flopped on your bed. Hot tears falling down your cheeks and absorbing into your hair that was splayed out underneath you. You moved up to the top of your bed and hugged your pillow, pretending it was someone else to provide you with comfort. You sniffled and your eyes became heavy and you drifted off to sleep. The energy completely stripped from you.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @mad4marvelloki​ @lightmelikeamatch​

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex and alcohol and getting drunk.

CHAPTER 4

Charlie

No matter how much I tried I wasn’t even halfway when I heard mum calling us for dinner. I stood up and moaned from the pain. This chair was killing me but it was better that I just stay in my room than talk to Rhylee.

I made my way downstairs. I was surprised at how quiet the afternoon was. The twins came out of their room as I got to their floor, giggling. I was waiting for an explosion or a fire or something but nothing happened so I followed them down into the kitchen.

We all sat down and since my dad spent the entire morning working on something in the garage I decided to talk to him. I wasn’t at all surprised that he was playing with the plugs he was collecting. I always found his obsession with Muggle artifacts rather amusing.

After dinner, I went back into my room and buried myself in my work. I wish the formal part of my job was as fun as the practical part. I loved working with dragons but writing reports on what I do every month was a pain in my arse.

I lifted my head when I heard a knock on the door.

“We’re leaving now, Charlie.” Mum poked her head through the door. “Are you sure you can’t come with us?”

“I tried, mum. But I still have so much to do.” I sighed.

It pained me how sad she sounded.

“Alright, dear. I understand.” She smiled. “Rhylee’s staying behind too. She’s in Ginny’s room, working on something.” She added and gently closed the door behind her as she left.

Rhylee’s in Ginny’s room. That was great news! It means I can go work downstairs and make myself some coffee. I grabbed all my papers and rushed down the stairs the second I heard them leaving. The kitchen table was much bigger than the one in my room so I was excited I would be able to spread all my papers across it and make it easier for myself when I search for different pieces of parchment.

I made myself a big cup of coffee because since I have been working on this for 5 hours and felt as if I got barely anything done, I knew it was going to be a long night for me.

—

“Oh, dear Merlin, you scared me, Charlie!” I jumped up in my seat and turned around. I saw Rhylee standing in the living room, her hands on her chest. “I thought I was alone in the house.” She continued, trying to calm herself down.

“I thought Bill told you I’ll be here.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

The look on her face was priceless.

“He forgot to mention it, I guess.” She tried to laugh too but was still a bit shaken.

She slowly made her way to the kitchen.

“Can I just make myself some tea?” She stopped next to me.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make it for you.” I offered.

She smiled appreciatively and sat down. She couldn’t help herself from peeking at my papers.

“How come you didn’t go with your family?” She asked.

“Because I am an idiot that leaves his reports until the last minute before they have to be handed in.” I replied, putting a kettle on and getting her a cup.

“Don’t like to do paperwork, huh?” She chuckled.

“I dread it.” I opened the cupboard where mum usually has tea leaves. “It’s the only thing I don’t like about my job.”

“I feel you. It’s a real party breaker.” I turned to her.

She was leaning on the table, watching me.

“Why did you stay behind?” I asked even though I was there this morning when she got the letter.

I was just making small talk and I didn’t like the way she was looking at me.

“I had to fill out the paperwork for the new dragon we are getting. We thought he was coming on the 30th but he’s arriving in two days.” She sounded so excited. It made me want to be there when they receive him even more. “I feel bad for miscalculating, though.” She exhaled.

“What do you mean?” I gave her the cup with tea.

“Thank you.” She smiled and put the cup to her lips. “I already finished and I know they left two hours ago but now I wish I just went with them and would stay up late and fill out the forms then.”

“I have plenty of reports to finish. You can help me.”

Why did I say that?

I just wanted to make her feel less guilty for staying behind but the idea sounded way better in my head. I didn’t want her to be here. It would be better if she went upstairs!

“Sure!” She put her cup down and clapped her hands.

Why did she have to sound so excited about this? I was torturing myself at this point. I hate Bill for bringing her here and I couldn’t wait to go back to Romania to be as far away from her as possible. She was making my brain fuzzy.

“How can I help you?” Her question made me stop staring at her.

“Well, you can help me set this pile by date.” I pointed at the pieces of parchment on the left side of the table. “Meanwhile, I’ll write the report for Ren.”

“Ren?” She lifted her head from the papers and looked at me.

“Our Romanian Longhorn.” I explained the name.

“Oh.” She chuckled. “I thought you were talking about your girlfriend.”

Why did she sound relieved?

“Ehm, no.” I said quickly and scratched my head.

The last thing I wanted to do was talk about relationships with her.

“Are you single?” She asked out of the blue.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, trying hard to keep my eyes on the report in front of me.

I hope she’s not expecting me to ask her the same question. I couldn’t see the expression on her face but I could see that she nodded.

Why did she even care?

Please stop talking to me and let me bury myself in work so I can stop thinking about you, Rhylee!

—

I pressed my fingers into my eyes, lifting my head and putting down my quill when I heard a tap on the window. It was an owl, a letter in her beak.

“What do you have for me, little friend?” I gently took the envelope from her and rushed to the pantry to get her some treats. “Wait here.”

I was so into work that I don’t even know when it started snowing. I looked at my watch. 4 hours! We have been working for four hours without speaking. Thank Merlin for that!

However, my family should be back by now.

I grabbed some treats and quickly returned to the kitchen. I gave them to the owl and got a cute hoot in return and then I went to open the letter. I recognized mum’s handwriting at once. I rushed through the letter, making sure nothing bad happened to them.

Charlie,

you have probably noticed how much snow has fallen. Ron and Ginny had an idea of us staying in the village for the night.

We don’t want to apparate with them being so young and with all the snow I don’t know how it is around the house.

Be a dear and check the window in Fred and George’s room and make sure it’s closed.

We’ll see you in the morning.

Love, mum

They are staying in the village? They’re coming back in the morning? Was I cursed? Why was this happening to me!

“Is everything okay?” Rhylee asked gently.

“It’s from my mum. They are going to stay in the village. Too much snow has fallen for them to walk back and they don’t want to apparate with my siblings.” I explained.

“Oh.” Was all she said.

This was the first time I didn’t know what to make of her face.

“Well, we still have work for another two hours.” She smiled at me, pointing at the papers.

I just nodded and sat back down. I was overreacting. This was fine. We were just working. She was helping me with my reports and we made small talk. It was rather nice. I enjoyed her company even though we weren’t talking at all. There was no awkward silence or tension. It felt as if we were doing this for years. Maybe that’s why I felt so weird about it.

It shouldn’t feel like this. Should it? I shouldn’t feel like this. It was obvious she grew on me and I only knew her for like two days. But Bill didn’t mind that I was staying behind so it really was harmless. It was just my mind messing with me.

—

“I can’t believe we actually did it!” I closed my ink bottle, looking at the now neatly folded piles of reports. “It only took us…” I looked down at my watch. “…6 hours.” It was five minutes past eleven.

Great, we can just go to sleep now!

“I think we deserve to celebrate!” Rhylee obviously had other plans, her eyes beaming.

She had that playfulness in her eyes again.

“What are you proposing?” I smiled weakly.

I can’t just tell her to go back into Ginny’s room. It would be rude. Bill said to make her feel comfortable in our home.

“You have some alcohol in this house?” She bit her lip.

Alcohol? She was joking, right?

“I’m not sure. I can go check.” I said slowly.

That was a lie. I knew that dad always had at least two bottles of Fire Whiskey in the garage just in case we would get unannounced guests.

I dragged myself in there. This was wrong. I was not good with alcohol. I became too honest. What if I tell her that Bill fancies her! He would kill me!

I took my time looking for the whiskey. I was hoping she would change her mind if I took too long and would just go to bed.

Of course, it was just my luck that I came back and she was sitting on the sofa, two empty glasses in front of her on the coffee table.

“I took the liberty to find some glasses. I hope you don’t mind.” She grinned.

I like that she felt at home here and that she was so relaxed but at the same time, I couldn’t help to think that she wasn’t acting like this around Bill and it made me feel guilty that she did so around me.

I poured us both some whiskey and sat down next to her, keeping some distance between us. She bent her leg, sat on it, and turned to me.

“So now what?” I asked awkwardly.

Hopefully, we won’t just sit here in silence and drink alcohol.

“Well, we have a whole bottle of Fire Whiskey, obviously we have to get drunk.” She laughed.

“Obviously.” I chuckled nervously.

“How about…” She brushed her lips against her glass. “We play Never have I ever?”

“Never have I what?” I blinked at her.

“You never heard of it?” Why were her eyes sparkling? I just shook my head. “I see you had no Muggle-born friends at Hogwarts.” She laughed.

“Never have I ever is a drinking game where one person says something they have never done before and if the other person has done it they drink.” She started to explain. “So for example you could say never have I ever played this game and I would have to drink because I played it before.”

“Okay.” I said slowly, taking a sip of my whiskey.

“I’ll go first.” She sat closer to me.

“Never have I ever peed in the shower.” She said.

“What?” I laughed.

“Oh, relax. This is just a warm-up for the real questions.”

What did she mean by that? I slowly took a sip from my glass and she did the same.

“Your turn.” She grinned.

“Never have I ever got a tattoo.” I really didn’t know what to ask.

I didn’t even know if I was playing the game correctly. She drank.

“You have a tattoo?” I raised my eyebrows.

She rolled up her sleeve and revealed a small tattoo of a dragon egg.

“It’s beautiful.” I said.

I wanted to run my fingers over it but I knew I would be crossing the line.

“I got it when I got my job at Gringotts.” She explained, looking proudly at it. “You don’t have any?”

“I have enough scars as it is.” I chuckled.

—

We played a few rounds. Throwing never have I evers at each other about our school days and dragons. This was fun. I really was overreacting. We were just playing a friendly game and getting tipsy. The Fire Whiskey bottle was almost empty and I felt more relaxed which was nice since I didn’t have the power to overthink her every word.

“Okay.” She pursed her lips. Thinking of the next one. “Never have I ever had a one-night stand.”

This just went from an innocent drinking game to questions I wasn’t comfortable with.

I would’ve loved to play this game with my mates back in the Sanctuary. We would get drunk in 15 minutes knowing each other so well. Playing this game with my future sister-in-law and talk about sex was wrong on so many levels.

The fact that I was so attracted to her was even more wrong and her eyeing me like that didn’t help my cause.

How am I supposed to get out of this? It looks like I don’t know how to have any fun. She must think I’m pathetic and my eyes probably look like they are going to fall out of their sockets at any moment now.

Just relax, Charlie.

Just play along. I took a sip and so did she.

“Never have I ever pranked someone.” Perhaps if I change the topic to more innocent things she would get a hint.

I took a sip immediately. She didn’t.

“Really? You never pranked anyone?” I teased her.

“Hey, I don’t have two brothers that have a room full of fireworks!” She defended herself.

“You just don’t know how to have fun!” I teased some more.

“Never have I ever broken up with someone.” She ignored my remark.

We both drank now.

“Never have I ever forgot to file a report by the end of the month.” I continued.

Neither of us drank this time.

“We really are workaholics aren’t we?” She giggled.

“I think that’s obvious since we stayed behind on Christmas Eve, working.” I smiled.

“Never have I ever slept with a co-worker.” She really has to stop with the sex questions.

She’s killing me. I took a big sip. I was not drunk enough for this. She didn’t drink but raised her eyebrows at me instead.

“What?” I asked and poured us both more whiskey, emptying the bottle.

“Nothing, nothing.” She raised her hands in defense but I could see she was amused.

“Never have I ever lied to my boss.” I finally said, after a few seconds of us staring at each other.

“Oh, come on, Charlie.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Stop it with the innocent never have I evers!” She poked me in my shoulder.

“Alright.” I took a deep breath and looked down at my glass.

What is she expecting me to say? I was screaming in my head. This was so unfair. I wanted to know her better. I wanted to play along and ask all these dirty questions but I couldn’t. I can’t and why was she not seeing this. What was she playing at!

I was way too relaxed for my liking and I knew that I have to come up with something that isn’t as boring.

“Never have I ever liked my brother’s friend as much as I like you.” I blurted out.

No! What have I done!

I knew drinking was going to be a bad idea. I’m too honest when I’m this drunk.

I looked up at her and I hated that I couldn’t read her expression. Her lips were slightly parted. She didn’t drink. She didn’t even move. She was just looking at me. It looked like she was debating something in her head and never have I ever wanted to know what a girl was thinking more.

“Well, I obviously can’t drink to that.” She put her glass down and sat closer to me.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt as if someone hit me with a stunning spell. She looked at me and leaned towards me.

Was she trying to kiss me? Please tell me that is not what she is trying to do! This seriously can’t be happening to me. I never had problems getting a girl and I never backed out from kissing one but this was wrong and it can’t be happening.

The whole night she has been sending me mixed signals and I pretended to ignore them and I tried to interpret them as friendly even though I knew what they meant.

Did she forget she came here with my brother? Did she not come here because she fancies him? What was going on?!

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She quickly pulled away. “Did I misinterpreted the signs?” She looked embarrassed.

If she only knew how well she read me. I wanted to kiss her so badly.

“No, it’s just…”

Why didn’t I just say yes? Why can’t I lie when I’m drunk?

“You’re not a virgin are you?” She leaned closer again. “You drank before when I asked about one-night stands.” She got even closer.

I was screwed. What am I supposed to do? She completely cornered me and I have never had a woman come on to me this strongly. She wasn’t shy at all and I was loving it.

No! Snap out of it, Charlie!

You can’t do this. You can’t do this to Bill.

How am I supposed to get out of this? I can't tell her the truth. I can’t tell her that I can’t kiss her because Bill fancies her. I can’t tell her that I am trying to resist this only because of my brother. Bill would kill me if I told her that.

I was panicking.

I am panicking.

Why did I have to be a workaholic and stay at the Burrow? I should’ve just went with my family to see the lights. Looking at the lights, that was innocent. The thoughts in my mind weren’t.

If she had any idea how much I wanted this. How drawn I was to her. How much I wanted to kiss her and how much I wanted to explore her body with my lips. I wanted to feel her naked body against mine and ran my fingers through her hair. I wanted to make her feel good and see that gorgeous smile on her lips.

Oh, dear Merlin, what have I gotten myself into!

I can’t see a way out of it and the worst part was that I didn’t want a way out. I wanted to do it and I was beginning to feel my body giving up on resisting her. I wanted this so badly. She was so beautiful and I couldn’t deny the connection between us any longer. I felt like I was going to explode. I felt like I was in a desert and her lips were my oasis.

I leaned closer to her. I am too drunk to resist her. I am too drunk to care if she can hear how fast my heart is beating. I am too weak to say no to her and I am drunk enough not to care what Bill will do to me when he finds out tomorrow.

I just have to kiss her. I have to see what this energy between us is. I have to explore it. And me not having sex for 7 months wasn’t helping.

I put my hand on her neck and gently pulled her closer. Our lips finally touched.

Dear Merlin, everything that is magical! Her lips were so soft and smooth. She tasted like Fire Whiskey mixed with mint tea. The kiss sent shivers down my spine and I felt as if I was on fire. I have never felt like this before.

This was insane.

Insanely good.

Nothing should feel this good. This should be illegal.

I couldn’t help my curiosity grow as our lips parted and our tongues met. If my eyes were open she could see how they rolled back into my skull. Just kissing her was pure ecstasy.

I grabbed her leg behind the knee and pulled her on my lap. I have to her now.

Bill can kill me later, right?

[coeurdastronaute]

Christmas: Day 33

maybe possibly continue the thanksgiving/christmas of clarke and lexa with it being their second christmas together and they do their own thing and attend new years party or maybe do the new years right after the thanksgiving/christmas story

Day 32

Even with the sludge and the general slush that was the busy streets in the winter, the car crunched its way down familiar streets toward the opposite side of town, departing the high rises of the downtown skyline and instead running for the wide open grey sky, plump with snow and the promises of a very, very white Christmas. Dressed in its best holiday attire, the city was brimming with cheer; lights hung from every tree, ornaments from every street light, balconies were glistening with the vast array of different decoration choices, and most importantly, tiny snow men appeared in tiny yards and parks and playgrounds, waving away the old and welcoming that sense of joy that seemed to creep in despite the chill in the air. 

The car was steaming, the heat pumping through the vents at a prodigious rate that made the inhabitants begin the slow process of taking off parts of their layers between stop lights and signs. Outside it was below freezing, but the cab of the vehicle was stifling in the way that only a car can be during the holidays, pumping in good spirits despite all else. 

“Are you really nervous?” 

“No… no. No, no,” Clarke shook her head as she put on the confident air she’d perfected throughout her life. 

“You already know Anya,” Lexa promised, seeing through it instantly, knowing that she had to offer a few extra words of encouragement to make it real, to put some weight behind the faux demeanor. “You’ve known her longer than you’ve known me.” 

“I work with her, but it’s not like we work together. We’re in vastly different departments. I don’t see her other than when we have dinner together.” 

“We’ve been dating for nearly three years. You know her plenty.” 

“I know. And I’m not nervous,” she shrugged. 

Lexa reach across the middle and held her girlfriend’s hand, easing her into it. It wasn’t lost on the lawyer that her girlfriend was nervous to spend the holiday without her family, nor that she was always a little nervous around Anya. For Lexa, there were no other options. She had to make a good impression on the only sister, the only living family member. She dreaded the thought of having to impress just Clarke’s mother or father or friends. She understood the pressure. 

“I’m excited we get to spend the holiday with my family this year,” Lexa decided to try a different tactic, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s going to be great. And we can teach them how to make proper hot chocolate and such.” 

“I’m excited, too.” 

“Your mom wasn’t too hurt that I’ve stolen you for the holidays?” 

Clarke pulled Lexa’s hand to kiss it before looking out the windows again as the snow flurry picked up once more. 

“She understood. She was just excited we agreed to New Years with them.” 

“I can’t believe she was okay with inviting Anya and the gang up for the party. It was very cool of her.” 

“Well, you know Abby,” Clarke shrugged. “Always trying to be the hippest mom on the block. Plus, Dad really wanted to validate his transforming the shed to a guest house.” 

“House is generous.”

“Don’t tell him that,” she chuckled and agreed. “He worked very hard.” 

“I know,” Lexa grinned. “He sent me all kinds of updates. I think he was trying to separate us when we visit.” 

“Fat chance.” 

“We’re quiet, right?” 

“Very,” Clarke nodded before pondering it a little more. She decided to get that thought of her head immediately. 

“Well, I can safely say that Anya appreciated the gesture of including the whole family together, and they never get to go anywhere or go to adult parties. She’s probably more excited about that than about us coming for Christmas.” 

“My mom loves having kids running around the house. It works out so well. Why haven’t we thought of it sooner?” 

“I had to get you to date me for real, first.” 

“Shut up,” Clarke rolled her eyes, pinching her girlfriend’s bicep. “It wasn’t that hard.” 

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that.” 

“I’m not having this fight with you again.” 

“Yes dear,” Lexa smirked, lolling her head back toward the road as Clarke rolled her eyes once more and sighed, smiling through it despite herself. 

The car made its way across town as the streetlights came on. All of the creatures that would have been stirring quieted. Little faces pushed themselves against the cold glass of the windows and searched the sky for a sight of the sleigh. Christmas Eve settled atop the world with a sense of impending joy and a crackling warmth that kept all of the houses nestled safely on their streets. 

The intersection before her sister’s house, Lexa kissed her girlfriend’s knuckle and tucked her hand closer to herself, satisfied with her life and that she was someone who had many places to be for Christmas. A surge of love flushed itself through her system, and it went away just as unexpectedly, leaving behind a residue of warmth. 

“I love you, you know?” she asked her girlfriend who hummed along with the Christmas music on the radio. 

“Yeah, duh.” 

With a contented smile, Lexa let her head rest against the seat in the car as the warmth blew at the snow that clung to her boots. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Much like her own home for the holidays, the dining table at the Blake household was vibrant and alive, absolutely overflowing with bodies and hands and forks and delicious smelling food steaming at the windows and voices talking over each other to fill their plates and begin the sacred tradition of a Christmas Eve dinner. 

“We do the big dinner tomorrow,” Anya promise as she finished making a plate for her youngest daughter who slapped at the high chair, full of mirth and excitement. “But Chinese has been a Christmas Eve tradition since we were kids.” 

“This is absolutely better than anything I could have imagined,” Clarke promised, angling for a box of lo mein. 

“Our mom burned an entire dinner in some fashion their first Christmas together,” Lexa explained, handing out egg rolls to her niece and nephew and girlfriend. “Before we were even born. And every year, my parents just kept ordering.” 

“When I first got married, I debated the tradition.” 

“But I insisted,” Bellamy grinned from the head of the table. “Because it meant we got to spend the entire day having fun instead of cooking.” 

“And Lexa all but refused to eat anything else.”

“It’s a sacred tradition,” she shrugged, earning a look from her girlfriend. “I’ve been known to be stubborn from time to time.” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you admit it,” Clarke taunted. 

“That’s your Christmas gift.” 

“I wanted to cook this year, but believe it or not, Lexa insisted again that I not change anything for you.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she promised. “I can’t imagine a better dinner.” 

“And after we get to watch Christmas movies,” Madi explained as she worked her fork around her plate, doing her best. She was the spitting image of Lexa, and Clarke felt that aching kind of twinge to see her girlfriend with the mini-versions of herself. “And eat cookies and leave some for Santa and we got carrots for the reindeer.” 

“Oh wow. I better save room.” 

“I always try,” Lexa shook her head. “But all we do is eat for the holidays. There’s never enough room.” 

The frenzy of family slowed as everyone went about the arduous task of eating absolutely delicious food and savoring each other’s company. The baby made a mess, much to Lexa’s enjoyment, while the twins excitedly prattled on about their gifts and Santa and the movies and everything they wanted to do during their winter break. 

Somewhere between all of it, Clarke found herself swept into Lexa’s family, beaming at how happy her girlfriend seemed to be, to be a part of such a moment, to have a certain pride in having someone to share it with. It was as intoxicating as the wine that Anya freely and eagerly shared. 

The holidays at the Griffins were decidedly missing something in the form of tiny people who still had enough magic in them to appreciate the mystery of the time of year, and Clarke hadn’t thought to miss it until dinner on Christmas Eve. 

Lexa gingerly added more to Clarke’s plate, sharing her order of chicken and explaining eagerly how it was the best of all time, pulling Clarke back from her reverie.All Clarke could do was smile and dig into the new traditions. 

XXXXXXXXX

The noise came in the form of tiny feet pounding down the hallway, giggling and excitedly whispering past the room. Lexa shifted in her sleep, stretching slightly to tighten her grasp on her girlfriend. She enjoyed the warmth of the body beside her, she enjoyed her smell mingling with the familiar smell of her sister’s spare room, she even enjoyed the feeling of Clarke’s body relaxing into her own chest as she fought against waking. Lexa kissed bare neck and dug her nose into the shoulder of Clarke’s old flannel shirt. There was something wonderful to wake like that, and she knew it. 

“Merry Christmas,” Clarke whispered, tugging Lexa’s arm impossibly closer. 

“Merry Christmas, beautiful. Are you ready for presents?” 

“You’re worse than the kids.” 

“I never claimed any different. What’d you get me?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Do you want to know what I got you?” Lexa murmured, hand shifting slightly along her girlfriend’s stomach. 

“Kind of,” Clarke grinned but kept her eyes shut, her hips moving slightly against Lexa’s lap. 

The instant her fingertips dipped into sweatpants, the knock echoed against the door as the tiny feet made their way with great speed, back toward the Christmas tree and pile of presents. 

“You’re the one who wants kids,” Clarke reminded her girlfriend as she rolled over to kiss her cheek, earning a huff as the warmth escaped the bed. “Come on. Let’s go see what Santa brought.”

“But… we have a tradition,” Lexa pouted, head hiding in a mess of hair and pillows and sheets. 

“Sex on Christmas isn’t a tradition. It’s coincidence.” 

“Come back to bed. I can give you a quick coincidence.” 

Hopeful and smirking, she stretched across the bed to try to snag a loop in the robe Clarke put on before grasping only at air. 

“Morning Lex, Clarke. Merry Christmas. The heathens are waiting for you to open presents,” Anya called, her voice disappearing as she went down the stairs. “I’m making coffee.” 

“Looks like we have all new traditions this year,” Clarke teased, tugging a defeated girl out of the bed with a heave, though Lexa refused to make it easy. “I’ve been known to coincidence any time on Christmas though.” 

“What a coincidence, me too,” Lexa grinned. 

“Come on. Presents.” 

“We’re staying home next year. I don’t care what anyone says.” 

“Let me quote you on this in about ten months.” 

“Shut up.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

The table was set, the candles lit, the plates perfectly ordered with properly placed silverware and fancy wine glasses. Despite the uproar of the kids playing with their toys and trails of wrapping paper throughout the house, the dining room ws expertly set and full of mirth and delicious smelling food. Gone were the flannel pajamas, and in its place were velvet dresses and ties, as everyone dressed up for the meal and friends arrived to partake, stretching the house at its seams with bodies and warmth. 

The evening fell quickly, with the lights and candlelight glimmering amidst the voices and happiness of old friends and children itching their collars. 

Clarke understood why Lexa said she liked Christmas Eve dinner the best with her family. It felt like a home in a different way than the giant, conventional feast of acquired family members. Christmas Eve, Clarke imagined, was what Lexa imagined her parents would have loved. Christmas was completely for them, their own developed tradition of a beautiful, dimly lit dinner with their closest friends, the found family that kept them alive for so long. 

When dinner was called, Clarke found her seat beside her girlfriend and smiled before earning a kiss against her temple while Bellamy’s parents started the applause as Anya brought out the main course followed by some friends with sides. 

“I’m going to grab the wine,” Lexa whispered after helping push in Clarke’s chair. 

In just a few minutes, everyone was seated and waiting for the items to start passing, but Clarke noticed the absence of her girl. When she looked around, she caught Lexa leaning against the doorway, just watching, two bottles of wine in her hand. Unsure of how long she’d been there, Clarke watched Lexa watch the family, and she felt the warmth of the season, she felt the burning of her adoration, she fell in love. 

When Lexa caught her eye, she straightened slightly before smiling quite sheepishly and offering a shrug. Clarke just gave her a wink before thanking Anya’s college roommate for passing the potatoes. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

New Year’s was no different than Christmas at the ancestral Griffin household. The trees and lights remained up, festive for the final time of the year, while fancy tables and candles all around, the tables and the food and the people mingled about. It was a full house, with friends and family taking their time getting reacquainted. 

From the moment Anya met Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, Lexa felt a warmth, a certain level of family that she couldn’t remember feeling in her entire life. She adored the Griffins. She loved spending time with Jake, as he fiddled in the garage and they escaped Clarke and her mother. Hell, Lexa even enjoyed helping Abby cook and chatting about the newest restaurants. And it sent her over the moon to see Clarke with Anya, so much that they even got coffee together and often saw each other more than Lexa saw her sister. 

But during the New Year’s Eve party, all of the world’s combined. Anya was sitting in the living room with Clarke’s childhood best friend. Bellamy and Jake were manning the bar, willingly filling the rest with spirits. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Clarke whispered, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, her chin on her shoulder. 

“Just happy.” 

“Normally you get chatty when you’re happy. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa promised before kissing her girlfriend’s temple. “Just very, very, very happy.” 

“So, do you want to go make out in the garage for like ten minutes or…” 

“Can I steal her?” Raven interrupted, snagging Clarke’s arm. 

They were gone before Lexa could argue. 

Nervously, she toyed  at the box in her pocket, rubbing the velvet between her fingers. She couldn’t concentrate on much else, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to form words. Every time she tried to remember, her mind went blank. 

She refilled her glass of wine and earned a smile from Jake, amused and sympathetic. She watched Clarke and Raven moving through the crowd and felt the warmth and she was almost ready. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Why do we have to go outside?” Clarke shook her head, tugging on her coat as Raven put hers on as well. “It’s almost midnight, and I have a kiss to give. I’m all booked up.”

“I want to show you my new car before the fireworks anyway.” 

“Did they add some budget to the fireworks this year?” she chuckled, afraid to acknowledge that the fireworks were barely visible from the town square. 

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about for months.”

“You’ve got to get out of this place.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Raven chuckled. 

The Christmas lights remained on every house on the block, completely illuminating the night and twinkling in the leftover feeling of mirth and joy, hoping to prolong the world a bi longer, to embrace the frigid cold and beautiful, pure snow, and cast off the cynicism that was inevitable within two months. It was the night of firsts, the night of new, the night of beginning and ending, all at once, a sadness for what was lot and a reverence for what was to come, the door of possibilities open wider than ever or any other day. And the Christmas lights remained, a beacon on every eave, a galaxy amidst winter’s distress, ushering in time and the striking of clocks. 

The pair walked along the shoveled driveway as Clarke surveyed her home and her old neighborhood. She seemed to remember every branch, exactly as it was, so that even when she was away, her mind knew how they grew, so there was never a change, all remained intact. 

“Shit,” Raven sighed, her breath clouding up in the cold. “I forgot my keys. Just… I’ll be two seconds.” 

“It’s freezing. Can’t I just see it tomorrow?” Clarke sighed. 

“Just hang tight. It’s not midnight yet.” 

Suddenly alone in front of her childhood home, Clarke looked into the windows, watching from a new vantage point the life that was being lived inside. She wondered if Lexa’s habit of voyeurism was rubbing off on her. There hadn’t been a time she remembered taking these moments to look and listen and see, more importantly. But now, Clarke paused and watched, like a movie at the drive in. 

When the door opened again, when the noise from the party grew louder and then dissipated again, Clarke looked to see her girlfriend appear instead of her friend. 

“Thirty seconds left in the year, and I was afraid I was getting stood up,” Lexa smiled, shivering in the cold. 

“I would never. Raven made me come out, but I’ve lost her, it seems.” 

“Sounds like Raven.” 

“Well, you’re here now. Care to usher in a new year with me, Woods?”

Clarke cocked her head to the side as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Lexa’s arms moved around her waist in the familiar pattern they’d developed. Inside, the noise seemed to die down as the count began for the final seconds of the year. 

“There is absolutely no where else I’d rather be.” 

Clarke couldn’t wait, leaning forward to kiss Lexa one last time and for the first time as time existed beyond them. The cheers and confetti erupted in the house and the fireworks boomed in the distant, barely visible beyond the roofs across the street. 

“Happy New Year,” Clarke whispered, her cheeks blushing with the cold and the kiss. 

“Happy New Year,” Lexa returned, not even opening her eyes but smiling nonetheless. 

“We should go inside.” 

“Just one more minute.”

Even with their foreheads pressed together, Clarke nodded and closed her eyes as well. She felt Lexa’s hands toying with her coat, and she felt her breathing warm the space between them. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Lexa nodded again.

“You’re shivering. Let’s go in.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded again. “Wait. No. I don’t want to go inside yet.” 

“But your--”

Lexa pulled away slightly, but she didn’t move. She furrowed and gulped, afraid to look at her girlfriend’s face. It flashed gold and green and blue and red and gold again with the display. 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you too,” Clarke promised. 

“I need you to not say anything for like thirty seconds, okay?” Lexa waited until she earned a nod. “Okay. I love you. I knew I was in love with you the very first Christmas we spent together, and the very first year you kissed me on New Years. I love the life you’ve given me, and I love the person I naturally am when you’re here.” 

Clarke watched the movements happen, she couldn’t quite understand it, despite knowing what it all meant. She watched Lexa dig into her pocket. She watched the little black box appear as Lexa knelt on one knee in front of her. 

“I’ve fallen so entirely in love with you, that I want to spend the rest of my life, my holidays, my new years, my old years. I want it all with you. And I was wondering if you would marry me?” 

Lexa stared back at her girlfriend and gulped again, her heart entirely stopping for the duration of what felt like an entire lifetime. 

But words didn’t come, just Clarke pouncing forward and hugging Lexa’s neck so tightly she thought she might break it right there. But she nodded and nodded and hugged so fiercely she couldn't entirely nod. And when that failed, she kissed her. 

The crowd that formed near the door and windows yelled and clapped, though neither noticed. 

“I love you so much,” Clarke mumbled, unable to breathe or see or talk or do anything other than exist in a state of pure bliss. 

“Good. Be mine forever?” 

“Of course.”

NEXT

[cherienymphe]

Kept Woman II (Steve Rogers x Reader)

warning: dark!possessive!manipulative!Steve, violence, eventual dub-con/ non-con. IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI!

Being in the wrong place at the wrong time finds you at the mercy of a dangerous man with an obsessive hunger that can’t be satisfied. {mafia au}

~

You woke up feeling simultaneously refreshed and anxious. It was the first time in a long time where you didn’t have to get ready for work and deal with annoying customers and an even more annoying boss. However, you didn’t know what to expect from today. You had spent the past few days basically holed up in the room Natasha had placed you in, and you knew that it couldn’t last forever.

It was the entire size of your apartment alone, and that wasn’t including the equally impressive bathroom. Even if you wanted to bask in your new unaccustomed living situation, you couldn’t, because you knew that it came with a price. You were only here because Steve either didn’t trust you enough to let you go or because he just didn’t want to. The latter worried you, and you couldn’t deny that his words worried you. What use could you possibly be?

You hadn’t seen him nor the other two males, who you learned were Sam and James, since that first day. You’d only been exposed to Natasha and one other girl named Wanda. You’d grown comfortable around them and didn’t want that to be ruined by seeing Steve again. With a sigh you exited your room, peeking your head around the corner. You didn’t see nor hear anyone, so you slowly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

You basically were free to go where you pleased as long as it wasn’t the other side of the kitchen. The kitchen basically separated one side of the house from the other, and you didn’t know what was on the other side exactly, but you knew that was where Steve resided, and that was more than enough for you. You were surprised to find the kitchen already occupied by Sam, and you sent him a small, nervous smile.

“You do know we’re not going to kill you, right?”

He chuckled as you eyed him, and it was in that moment that James walked through the kitchen.

“I’m still undecided,” he threw out as he breezed past you.

You flinched as the sound of the front door slamming shut reached your ears only a moment later. Sam laughed again before shaking his head.

“He’s joking. Steve decided we’re keeping you around, so…”

“…and what he says goes?”

He rose his eyebrows a bit, probably shocked that you were speaking to him for the first time since the day they kidnapped you.

“Yeah. What he says goes,” he confirmed.

You fiddled with your hands as he pushed a glass of orange juice towards you, and you gratefully accepted it. He eyed you as you took a sip, and you eventually met his gaze.

“I know you have questions. You might as well ask me, because Bucky’s just going to purposefully scare you, and Nat is going to make things seem nicer than what they really are.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and you glanced away.

“And Steve… Well, I don’t know why he decided to keep you around, so I’d hold off on approaching him about anything to be honest,” he finished.

You set your now empty glass down before exhaling.

“Do you guys…like…sell drugs? I mean, what do you do?” you asked, gesturing to the huge house.

Sam smirked, letting out another chuckle.

“We dabble in that a little bit. Usually though, we handle problems for important people who either don’t want to handle it themselves or can’t. A lot of people in this world, their only skill is their money, and they use it well to get what they want,” he honestly answered.

“I don’t really see where I would fit in to all of this,” you mumbled, coming to terms with what you’d been dragged into.

“Truth be told, me either,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what goes through Steve’s head half the time.”

“You’re about to find out.”

You were startled, jumping a bit as his voice reached you, and you looked over at Sam, but he only smirked before hiding his face behind his drink. You forced your gaze to land on the blond man before you and found his gaze already on you.

“Little mouse, come with me.”

You briefly glanced at Sam, but he didn’t meet your eye. Steve didn’t wait for you, and you hurried to catch up with him as he walked through the other side of the house you weren’t allowed to venture in. Your eyes were drawn to his back, taking in how broad it was. With a grimace, you noticed that he wasn’t small by any means, and you swallowed.

Foolish as it was, escaping had settled on your mind here and there. Even more so now that you had an idea of just what they were involved in. You were boring. The only time you’d ever done anything even remotely bad was when you’d gotten in trouble for public intoxication during a stint in high school with some friends. You didn’t want anything to do with any of this.

He held a door open for you, and you sharply inhaled when your shoulder brushed against him as you stepped inside the room. Dread filled you as he closed it shut behind you, and your eyes followed him as he walked around you to stand behind his desk.

“We’ve got a job tonight. There’s going to be a lot of people there, a lot of them important, so we need you to distract someone,” he started.

You frowned in confusion, shuffling on your feet.

“Nat will brief you on the subject and get you something to wear,” he ran his eyes over you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “We need you to dress the part…make sure you have his full attention.”

Your frown deepened at the implications behind his words, and you considered them for a moment.

“Just…just what are you asking me to do?”

He placed one hand on his desk, the other on his waist as he eyed you, blue eyes sharp and mocking.

“I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m telling you that you’ll go up to some unimportant rich man and entertain him for the evening while we do what needs to be done,” he stated.

You huffed, and his eyes glinted.

“Is that why I’m here? To be some dumb honeypot and lure unsuspecting men into traps and what not? I’m expected to just put on a stupid slinky dress and put my life in danger…”

You trailed off, swallowing the rest of your words as you watched Steve open a drawer before pulling out a gun and calmly placing it on his desk. You eyed it, swallowing as tears collected in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be here. In fact, you shouldn’t be here, but you are because I commanded it so, and I can just as easily…reverse that decision,” he slowly began.

You glared up at him, but he only smirked at you.

“I own you…in any way I see fit, and that means you do what I say. Is that understood?”

You nodded, and he eyed you for a bit before dismissing you.

 ~

“Can’t you…I don’t know, talk to him?”

Natasha chuckled as she rifled through her closet, fingers brushing over dresses that were by people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce. You glanced over your shoulder, paranoid that Steve would come bursting in at any moment. She shook her head.

“He’s decided that you’re going to be some use to us, so…that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Look I have a life. I have online classes and friends and family back home-.”

“Yeah, none of that matters anymore,” she said, shoving a bright red dress that no longer fit her into your trembling hands. “You belong to him, now.”

“What does that even mean?” you mumbled.

She threw you a sympathetic smile.

“It won’t be so bad if you don’t make it so. You do this, do what he says, and you can have anything you want.”

“Anything except my freedom,” you added.

She threw you a look before shaking her head and dragging you into her bathroom.

“You’ll have your freedom again, but it’ll take time,” she honestly replied.

“In other words, I’ll have it when I’ve been manipulated into being fiercely loyal,” you scoffed.

She chuckled, dragging out a bag of makeup before leaning against the counter, studying you.

“I like you, Y/N. You’re smart…and a bit of a spitfire. I know that you don’t like this, but I think we could be good friends. Steve decided to spare your life, and I think you could make the most of it. You could find happiness here.”

You glanced away, surprised by the sincerity behind her words.

“…and,” she slowly began, and you looked to her. “I hope you won’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“I-.”

“I see that you’re a lot like me, and if I were in your shoes, being forced to go to an event by my kidnappers with hundreds of people… I would use that opportunity to my advantage,” she continued with a small smirk, raising an eyebrow.

You hoped that your face was unreadable, because the thought had crossed your mind. They were basically trusting you to handle this on your own. You’d be stupid not to try.

“Don’t be like me,” she finished.

You bit your lip, clutching the dress closer before changing the subject.

“How did you guys know my name? When you came to my apartment, you knew my name.”

Her smirk grew.

“Your boss was a real asshole for confiscating phones like that…”

You heaved a heavy sigh, cursing your boss. It wasn’t enough that he’d made your life miserable when he was living, he had to do it even in death too.

“It took nothing to hack into it and find out who our little witness was,” she said with a shrug.

You clenched your jaw, wondering just how your life had ended up here.

“Nat…”

Her eyebrows rose at the use of her nickname, and she straightened, waiting for you to continue.

“Is this really what Steve kept me alive for? I mean…no offense, but you’d be much better at this job than I could ever hope to be. Look at you!”

She set the makeup bag down, considering your question.

“You want the truth?” she quietly asked.

You nodded without hesitation.

“I know Steve. We all do, but just like Sam and Bucky know him in ways I don’t, the same applies to me. I’m certain that tonight is just a test,” she answered.

You blinked.

“A test.”

“Come on. You’ve been here for what? Less than a week, and he’s already sending you out on a somewhat solo mission at a place with hundreds of people? A place where you could easily slip into a crowd and never be heard from again?”

You realized the truth in her words, and your nerves suddenly grew.

“Whether or not you pass this test will determine what really happens to you from here on out…”

Dread filled you, and you didn’t know what possibility was worse; what would happen to you if you failed…or what would happen to you if you passed.

 ~

You were currently smiling and batting your lashes at some old man whose name you could barely remember. His beady eyes creeped you out more than the leering smile he kept throwing you, and you mentally insulted Nat with every word you knew. She’d never mentioned that your target had one foot in the grave and could barely keep his decrepit hands to himself.

You glanced around, unable to spot Nat or Sam anywhere. You all had went your separate ways almost immediately after stepping into the building. Your task was clear and concise; keep the old man’s attention on you for duration of the event.

You kept thinking about what Nat said, about the whole outing being a test. Failing scared you, but you at least had a worst possible outcome in mind if that happened. If you passed, on the other hand, you had no idea what that would entail, and the unknown scared you more than anything. That was what drive you to reply with an enthusiastic ‘yes’ when the man before you offered to take you somewhere quieter.

He had a lot of money, and so he had his own private room in the grand building that he kept paid for. At least, that was what he told you as his shaky hands dragged along the curve of your ass as he led you up the stairs. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder, afraid of what you might see, who you might face, and what they might scare you out of doing.

It took no time to knock the old man out with a lamp as soon as the two of you were alone, and while part of you felt bad, an even bigger part was looking out for yourself. You wouldn’t have to fear the outcome of any stupid test if you could get away. With trembling fingers, you undressed yourself and then him, pulling on his suit and holding it to you as best as you could.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your kidnappers were smart, and you had to find a way out of here. They would expect you to take an emergency exit or something, possibly a back way. That was how you found yourself attached to a group of rich socialites who were too drunk to notice you as you all stumbled out of the building. You were surrounded by two girls and a guy in particular while the rest laughed around you.

You kept your head down, only lifting it when you paused at their waiting limo. You took the opportunity to slink around it before crossing the street. You didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t until you were long gone, but you didn’t even know how to go about doing that. There was no telling what came of your apartment, and even if everything was as you left it, that’d be the first place they’d expect you to go.

The bell rung as you walked into a business about 5 blocks over. The owner, at least you assumed that was who he was, had brown hair and a mustache and beard that almost connected. His dark eyes took you in as you approached.

“Can I use your phone? I know that you probably only let paying customers use it, but it’s an emergency-.”

“Relax, kid. Here. Call whoever you need,” he said, grabbing it off the counter and handing it to you. “I’ll be in the back.”

You thanked him before looking over your shoulder out the window as you dialed. You turned back towards the counter, leg shaking as it rung.

“Come on. Pick up, pick up,” you silently pleaded to whoever would listen.

You glanced around, noticing with a frown that the store was empty. You realized that it was a suit store, and the owner was still in the back. You sighed as it went to voicemail, and you hung up. You tried again, nerves skyrocketing as you turned around. The phone was loud as it clattered to the floor.

Your eyes were wide as they met Steve’s, his imposing figure leaning against the inside of the door. You hadn’t even heard him come in. His face was unreadable as he just…watched you. You blinked, and you realized that your mom had finally picked up. Her voice was coming from your feet, and both you and Steve seemed to realize it at the same moment. However, when he ran for the phone, you ran for the door.

His hand just barely caught onto the suit jacket, but you slipped out of it with ease and the bell rung again as you fled from the shop. Once again, you found yourself running down an empty sidewalk in the middle of the night. Only this time, you knew your pursuer. His legs were longer than yours, body much more in shape, and he caught you in no time.

You screamed as one strong arm wrapped around you, but his other quickly rose, slamming his hand over your mouth as he pushed you into an alley. Your back met the brick wall hard as he pinned you against it, and you winced when he pressed himself against you. Your body was shaking with adrenaline, and his…was not. He was as calm as could be, and that terrified you. Only self-assured people were that calm.

“You know, I do have to commend your cunningness…your effort. An entire 45 minutes had gone by before we even realized you had left,” he quietly praised.

You frowned at him, tears springing to your eyes. Were you supposed to be happy with his appraisal? You pushed against him, but he only pressed himself against you more.

“Uh uh. Now, I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re free to scream all you’d like…but this is New York. No one will care, and we both know that. You can try to fight me, but I’m stronger than you, so… Let’s be adults about this, alright?”

Your stomach sank as you realized the truth in his words, and you hesitantly nodded. You sniffed, and you flinched when he reached up to brush a stray tear away.

“So what happens, now?”

He tilted his head at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Nat told me about your little test,” you spat. “I failed. So what happens, now? Are you going to kill me? Chain me up in the basement?”

Steve’s face gave way to understanding, and he chuckled. Your frown deepened at that as he let go of you, pressing one hand to the wall as he leaned in. A strand of blond hair kissed his forehead as a small smirk danced along his pink lips.

“Failed?”

Now it was your turn to be confused, and his smirk grew as he brought his other hand up to brush his thumb over your bottom lip. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What are you talking about? You passed.”

~

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @sherrybaby14 @harringtonsblackgf @notyourtypicalrose @sebabestianstan101 @opheliadawnwalker3 @pinkzsugar @villanellevi @cheeseburgersstuff @navybrat817 @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @nightsinneverland @minluc @alexakeyloveloki @grayxswan

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Rejuvenate

AN: @liliesoftherain​ @keishiins​ I’m reuploading this because Tumblr hates my guts. I got the idea from Ronda Rousey stating before her matches she would have intense sex with her husband. I was intrigued with the idea and wondered how many athletes do the same thing? Anyway enjoy this request

❉ Warnings: Praise Kink, Sub Bokuto, Bondage, and little bit of Breeding kink at the end? Bokuto x Fem Reader.

❉ Disclaimer: Sex is not a cure for mental illness. Since we don’t know why Bokuto has mood swings I played around with the idea. Please don’t take this seriously.

❉ Summary: As part of the Jackals, Bokuto no longer had the luxury of messing about in this matches. But little did his teammates know he had someone special picking up the slack at home.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

t’s not until you lose something that you start appreciating it for what it was. For Bokuto, it was his team, and more specifically, it was his setter Akaashi. He never realized how bothersome his mood swings were because he was too busy dwelling on his emotions. But when he started playing professionally, Bokuto no longer had the luxury of his teammates looking after him anymore. Technically, Tsum Tsum did his best (best meaning he just ignored him until Bokuto’s mood settled), but he was unsatisfied. He was starting to hate that the tiniest things would unsettle him and affect his play.  

He tried everything from calming teas and even listening to rain ASMR before falling asleep. But his mood swings kept happening. Bokuto was at the end of his rope so much so he decided to visit Akaashi at his college. He had sent him a text letting him know he would drop by; hopefully, his old teammate would have something for him.

The university itself was pretty large and was known to attract international students from across the globe. Even now, Bokuto could see several foreigners staring at him in curiosity, but he just shrugged it off, thinking it was his eccentric hair (but really, it was his frantic pacing).

His face brightened when he saw his friend leisurely walking towards him.

“Bokuto-san, how have you been?” Akaashi inquired.

“Akaashi! Your school is so cool! I should come here more often,” Bokuto said while excitingly looking left to right.

“Please don’t,” murmured Akaashi, who was promptly ignored by Bokuto.

“Keiji! I thought I told you to wait for me,” a feminine voice called out.

Bokuto turned around to see a girl with a womanly figure walking towards them.

“Gomen, Y/N. I thought you already went back to class,” Akaashi replied to the girl.

Bokuto looked at her fascinatingly. She was beautiful, to be frank, and her beaming smile radiated happiness.

“Oh, who’s this?” she asked, looking at Bokuto directly, making him more nervous than he had felt in a while.

Akaashi turned to Bokuto only to narrow his eyes at his smitten face.

“This is Bokuto Koutaro. He was the captain of the volleyball team I was on in high school.”

She let out an excited gasp. “The Bokuto? The one you comp-“

“Anyway, this is Akaashi Y/N. She’s my cousin,” Akaashi cut in, confusing Bokuto.

Y/N sent a teasing smile to Akaashi.

“Our mothers are identical twins, and we were born in the same year. So, we’re more like siblings than anything. I should be calling him Keiji-ni, actually. It’s nice to meet you, Bokuto-san!”

Cousins? Now that she was closer, he could see the resemblance. They had the same dark hair and bright blue sharp eyes. But Y/N’s hair was longer coming down to her waist, and her eyebrows were neatly trimmed, unlike Akashi's. She also had the pinkest pair of lips Bokuto ever had the pleasure of seeing, or was that makeup? To be honest, he could never tell.

“What do you think, Bokuto-san?” Y/N asked him hopefully.

She had asked him a question which Bokuto wasn’t even listening to. Too busy staring at her animated face the entire time.

“Not today, Y/N. Maybe some other time. Go to class,” Akaashi said, almost sternly.

She pouted and said, “Fine! I’ll see you later, Bokuto-san.”

Y/N bowed politely, to which Bokuto scrambled to return before she walked away.

Akaashi muttered, “Don’t even think about it. She’ll eat you alive.”

His yellow eyes still on the retreating figure of Y/N, Bokuto distractedly replied, “what do you mean by that?”

His former teammate opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind.

“Do what you like, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bokuto should have listened to the almost ominous warning by his friend, but he was too excited.

“You mean it?! Can you give me Y/N’s number then?”

Akaashi grimaced; nevertheless, he fetched his phone before complying with his former captain’s request. The two friends talked for a while before Akaashi had to leave for his class. By the time Bokuto had arrived at his lonesome apartment, he had realized he had forgotten to ask Akaashi for the advice he initially sought out him for.

Still, he considered the day to be productive and successful while staring goofily at Y/N’s number.

Over the next couple of weeks, Y/N and Bokuto exchanged texts. When he had first texted her, she was cordial and pleasant.  As his interest became fairly apparent over time, Y/N responded to it with the utmost enthusiasm. Thankfully, Akaashi didn’t seem too opposed to it; instead, he made Bokuto promise to treat his cousin well. They had been dating for only a month when she asked him to take it a bit further. He honestly thought she was a virgin and was quite speechless at her question. Y/N was a petite and genial individual; in fact, Bokuto often worried that he would eventually drive her away with his boisterous attitude. And so, he was adamant about taking it slowly with Y/N. Only for her to flip the script and proposition him.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

“Did you have fun?” he asked earnestly after another date,

“Of course! Next weekend I'm free, so we should go out again,” Y/N replied cheerfully, swinging their interlocked hands.

Bokuto watched her closely and leaned in for a kiss.

She didn’t back down and instead tugged him closer. Their lips connected just barely before she moved back, but it was enough to entice him.

“Bokuto-kun, do you wanna come in? My roommate’s with her family for the weekend,” Y/N proposed.

He swallowed nervously and nodded. Her dorm was a standard two-room affair but standing in there, Bokuto felt such dread and excitement in the pit of his stomach.

Y/N took her time while removing her hoody before, with a teasing smile, she tried to help remove his jacket.

“You’ll get hot if you keep this on,” she cooed while pulling down his zipper.

Bokuto’s heart started racing out of control when he felt her small hands unashamedly caress his toned upper body in the guise of removing his jacket.

He distinctly heard something hitting the wooden floor but was way too preoccupied with helping Y/N unbuckle his belt to notice.

That night Bokuto was never so glad in his life to be wrong. She was no virgin. The way she roughly yanked his hair and demanded him to be faster and harder. It was hard to imagine Y/N not having prior experience. Despite him clearly being on top, it felt like she oversaw the entire affair. The praises that spilled from her mouth each time a particular thrust compelled her to see stars caused him to feel like he just scored a winning point in the finals. Her sleek legs that wrapped around him prompted him to renew his smooth but rough rhythm. Y/N eventually kept having to rewrap her legs each time he pulled out before she gave up and just splayed her legs to the side. That made it easier for him to reenter but strained Y/N’s muscles. She didn’t seem to care too much, though, as her nails embedded into his back. Bokuto lost count after her sixth orgasm and his fourth. The night continued into the early dawn. He barely slept, yet he found himself not caring after possibly having the best sex of his life.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

Bokuto felt at ease as the whistle blew and signaled the end of the match. The Jackals bowed to their devoted fans, and he could feel his teammates’ eyes on him subconsciously. Tsum Tsum was whispering lowly to Sakusa, who didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to whatever Tsum Tsum was saying. Even Hinata seemed subdued despite them winning the game. But Bokuto wasn’t bothered; he was satisfied. Y/N was out there in the bleachers waiting for him. Now that he won, she owed him a night of relaxation and back massages.

Even in the locker room, it was hushed, and only the bangs of the lockers resonated in the quiet.

Bokuto turned around when he felt someone tug at his uniform.

“Oh, Hinata! Good game, and that smash at the end was great. But you still have a long way to go before you can catch up to your teacher,” Bokuto loudly complimented while slapping Hinata’s back harshly.

“Ne, Bokuto-san, can I ask you something?” Hinata nervously inquired as he rubbed his back.

Bokuto looked at the younger boy and realized he was acting weird. Hell, he could tell all his teammates were listening to their conversation inconspicuously.

So, he just shrugged and motioned Hinata to go ahead.

“How come you’re so focused nowadays?”

Bokuto could almost hear the underlying question, ‘why haven’t you turned into emo Bokuto lately?’

Tsum Tsum, who had a towel in hand on route to shower, stopped to listen in. Even Sakusa, with his wet hair, stood by and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.

“Well, Hinata...” Bokuto began as his thoughts drifted back to last night.

They stumbled blindly through his dark apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights. Y/N let out a shriek of delight when Bokuto hoisted her into his arms and went straight to his bedroom.

He pushed back her hair and sucked wherever her neck was visible.

“Y/N, babe, want you right now. No. I need you,” Bokuto corrected amid his trailing kisses.

She grabbed the back of his dyed hair and pulled.

“On the bed then. I’ll grab my goodies,” Y/N encouraged.

He cocked his head in confusion at the mention of goodies but tugged off his shirt and shorts in a hurry. Bokuto tossed his clothes somewhere at the side of the bed, where he could find them easily in the morning before making himself comfortable on his bed. He could hear her fiddling in his bathroom but waited patiently. Y/N always rewarded him whenever he did precisely what she asked of him.

She stepped out of the bathroom, hiding something behind her back.

“Oh, did you start the party early?” she asked, eyeing his naked body with amusement and hunger.

“Yeah, but I’d rather you take off your clothes and join me,” Bokuto replied as he pointedly stared down at her white wrap dress.

“One sec. Let me show you my present.”

Y/N presented him with two pairs of silver handcuffs.

Bokuto tried to play it off coolly, but he didn’t think he managed as her cheeky grin widened at his flustered composure.

Y/N got on his bed and ordered, “Sit back. I want to see how good it looks on you.”

She didn’t even need to say please as he hurried to do what she asked. Placing a quick kiss on his forehead, she managed to get both his hands cuffed and attached to the bed frame separately.

“Now, the real fun begins. Do you trust me?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Bokuto joked.

While sliding down his body to make herself comfortable, she pushed his chest back down.

His soft member laid against his thighs. Which he supposed that Y/N wasn’t satisfied with because she immediately went to work.  

Y/N started by placing her hands on his firm thighs to which in turn made Bokuto jolt. But settled down at the soothing touch of her slender hands. Slowly but surely, she started to blow on his member. Feeling her hot breath, he shivered and clutched the bed sheets. It seemed like Y/N was in a playful mood, and that usually meant Bokuto was in for a long night.

That grip only got tauter when she started doing eskimo kisses to his cock.

Bokuto let out a low “fuck” when he felt tentative kitten licks while she traced the throbbing, purple veins along his shaft.

Y/N pulled back his foreskin to reveal the head. She rubbed the tip spreading the watery precum before sucking. She reveled in the familiar intoxicating taste and then swallowed him whole until his cock hit the back of her throat. Feeling the need to gag, Y/N took his member out of her mouth.

“Ko-kun, you taste so good. Maybe I should keep this up all night?”

“No, don’t,” he gasped.

Bokuto let out a groan when he tried to pull Y/N’s hair to make her take him deeper. But the handcuffs prevented him from doing so.

She let go of his cock entirely and shimmed out of her dress. Her bra and panties were next to go, and Bokuto’s eyes never strayed from the moment she started getting undressed. Y/N made herself comfortable and settled on top of his right thigh.

He felt his thigh’s muscle flex instinctively when he felt the soft lips and coarse trimmed hairs of her cunt. She already complimented him multiple times on how much she appreciated his physique. But she was paying extra attention to his bottom half tonight, apparently.

Unfortunately, his situation only got worse with her grinding against his thigh.

“Please, babe. I- I can’t wait,” he stuttered, which was an accomplishment of itself.

Y/N only laughed and said, “Come on, Ko-kun. You can do better than that. Remember last time how you begged so nicely? You can do it again.”

Bokuto imagined her swollen clit sliding along his bare skin. Which, he wasn’t wrong about because each time her center dragged against his leg, it wasn’t hard to notice the wetness she left behind.

“Ko-kun, should I just get myself off like this and leave you handcuffed until the morning?” Y/N asked wickedly.

“Don’t you dare-,” he started but let out a yelp when she pinched his inner thigh.

“Don’t be rude! I was just kidding, but I might do it for real,” she warned as she aggressively humped his thigh.

“F-fuck! Fuck!”

Oh god, he definitely felt the fluid dripping down from her cunt now. Bokuto could even hear the wet squelching sounds as she slid back and forth.

“Ko-kun, I wanna ride your face,” Y/N panted.

Bokuto’s eyes lit up, and he replied, “Are you going to uncuff me?”

“Nah, I think you’ll do fine just like this.” She didn’t say anything more as she leisurely crawled up his body.

Usually, he would have held onto her thighs while she sat on his face. But now, he could not do much once he caught a whiff of Y/N’s distinct scent. When her pussy was near enough, he licked the puffy clit that stood out so readily. Perhaps that was all the encouragement she needed because soon Y/N was aggressively shoving herself into his face.

“That’s it. Lick it all up. Don’t let a single drop go to waste,” she cried out while simultaneously pulling his hair.

He could barely breathe from her cushy thighs and the way her hands purposely kept him in one place. But god Bokuto loved it whenever she got like this. He could tell from her unsteady movement and the heavy breathing, Y/N was close. Laying his tongue flat, he licked from top to bottom and finally inserting the tongue inside her cunt. She lost her mind, convulsing uncontrollably.

“Fuck me! I-I’m going to cum.”

Y/N started enthusiastically grinding, and suddenly, an outpour of watery fluid started running down his cheeks. Her soft moans escalated to piercing screams before yielding to the spellbinding ecstasy.  Bokuto helped her ride it out by slowly sucking on her clit.

“Ko-kun, stop... Too much,” Y/N whimpered, pushing his face away from her overwhelmed pussy.

She scooted back a few inches and collapsed on top of his chest, trying to recuperate from her intense orgasm.

“Y/N, how did I do? Tell me.”

“Yeah, you were amazing. You were such a good boy.”

He felt lighthearted and incredible despite his erection still being prominent to the point of almost being painful.

Bokuto attempted to turn Y/N on her side so he could enter from that angle, but the handcuffs once again stopped him. He turned wide-eyed, totally forgetting about the cuffs attached to the headboard.

“Y/N help me out here,” he asked, kissing her sweaty hair.

She snapped out of her exhaustion to grab a pair of small keys on the nightstand. Y/N soon freed his hands, and he noticed his wrists were red from the metal straining against his skin.

Bokuto positioned Y/N in such a way that she lay on her side but was facing him. Her bangs were damp with sweat and stuck to her forehead. Still, she was visibly glowing, just like she always does after their sessions.

“My turn, ok?” he murmured, leaving love bites on her humid neck.

Sliding one leg in between her legs, he then encouraged Y/N to encircle his hip over the leg he just slid in.

Now Bokuto could easily clutch her firm butt while kissing her lips. With an erection that was now beginning to purple, he decided he had waited enough. With one swift nudge, her sopping entrance gave away to his cock.

“So good. I—” she stuttered as he hammered away. “Yes. So good.”

Y/N tucked her face away in his neck.

“You’re doing amazing. Keep going just like that, babe.”

His breath hitched at the ongoing praises, Bokuto’s skin becoming more heated by the second. His heartbeat racing out of control and tingles resonating down his back.

“I’m close. Gonna cum,” he groaned.

With a sensation that started at the base of his length before it coursed throughout his entire cock, the closer he got. Then as Bokuto got to the point of no return, he could no longer contain the inevitable release. He couldn’t control himself as his eyes shut and his body started shaking. He almost wished he could recount the entire experience, but Bokuto himself had blacked out right after he spilled inside of her.

He later would open his eyes to his body still on the side and entangled with Y/N. The deep-seated satisfaction from knowing he ejaculated inside of her left him bone-tired but rejuvenated at the same time. In no way were they ready for a pregnancy but god damn it if the thought didn’t leave him content beyond comprehension.  

Bokuto snapped out of his flashback to Hinata, still looking at him expectantly.

And with a smirk that was uncharacteristic of him, Bokuto said, “Let’s just say I have a girlfriend who’s been taking real good care of me before each game.”

[lovlydovlyjaycie]

Ævi - Frontlines

Hey again! This will be a continued series. The first Ævi series is in my masterlist and is only four parts. This is going to be a ongoing series, so there is going to be a lot more of Ævi to come. :)

Summary: Y/n or also known as Ævi has lived through varies of world events. Now it is 1941, she has excepted that some things cannot be changed so Loki has convinced Y/n to go to New York and live a normal life, a life Y/n always wanted. Or as normal it can be, because new introductions lead to events that didn’t go down in the history books.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers, Peggy, Loki, OC Vera

Warnings: Fluff, Violence, Angst, Me being sad writing this, we’re officially in Captain America the First Avenger now… So I guess spoilers? :( :( :(

Note: Omg.. When I tell you I have been dreading writing this part.. But like actually dreading.. Before I started writing this series I wanted it to be no more than 8 parts.. That obviously didn't work out

When I am writing and particularly writing about Bucky and y/n meeting again or them just being in love I always listen to Pirates of the Caribbean to the theme or Will and Elizabeth and I thought it would be good to share that with you guys. To get in the feels. Right now it jumps from POTC One day and the last minute or so from Drink up me hearties yo ho. I know it is so random, but I cannot get it out of my head.

Series masterlist

Part 13

It took me a minute to get here, but I was now in the Swiss Alps. I got word that this would be the next place the Howling commandos would go to. They think I'm dead, rightfully so, I fell off a train. Thinking about falling off that train with Bucky hurt, like someone was squishing my heart and I couldn't breathe. How was I gonna explain all of this. I should be dead. What are they gonna think of me being here, but Bucky is not. I sighed and brushed away a tear I felt rolling down my cheek.

I came here to help Steve, so that's what I'm gonna do. Ignore the pain for a second and help out.

I was hiding between the trees with a good out look on the headquarters. Nothing was going on yet. I knew Steve was gonna come soon, I just don't know when. I would need to tell him the truth about me. He's gonna hate me. I couldn't safe his best friend, but I'm alive.

These are times I really wished I was not immortal. Even Loki and Thor are not. They aged since I've met them, but me I'm still the exact same as I first was when I touched the stone. That stupid Life stone, but all I've seen is death. Sometimes I wished I never followed that man that gave me the box or I just had never opened the box.

I sat down against a tree and sighed again. What if all of that never happened? I would be with my friends and family. I have not seen them in almost a thousand years. I am not sure if I even remember their faces. I know I look like my mom, but now I can't imagine what she looks like anymore. It is awful. I am not even sure if I would recognize my own mom if I walked past her.

And the worst part of it all, the most selfish part. It hasn't even happened yet. Nobody is worrying about me being gone. Nobody is looking for me. Nobody is sad that I'm gone. Nobody even knows that I'm gone. I got blasted to the past in 2010 and it's 1945 now. In the mean time I have lived for a thousand years, but no one knows, No one human.

I'm not even sure if I want to go back to Sweden in 2010. Because I know I am not the same person I once was. I know I am not the same person they saw on my last day with them. Maybe one day I will go back to them, but certainly not the same day I had left them.

I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous. Of all people why me? Why let me be the protector of Life, yet I am always surrounded by death. Maybe it was time to fully use the Life stone. It has been under a protection spell from Frigga for hundreds of years so I won't be a beacon of power that attracts the wrong people. But because of that spell I never really found out what I could do exactly with my power. Sure I am still strong and I can heal wounds, but what is the extend of my full power? What if I could've helped Bucky... "These Hydra people." I scoffed to myself. Another thing that made me angry. Hydra. Before I got zapped back in time I studied history and never once was there anything mentioned about Hydra. But why? They have done all these horrible things, yet I have never heard anybody say a word about it. How is that even possible..-

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud explosion. I looked up and saw Steve zoom by on his motorcycle. Immediately the bunker started blasting at Steve as soon as they saw him. I kept looking at Steve ready to jump in any moment, but he pressed a button on his motorcycle and made the canon of the bunker explode and he got in with ease.

Steve was doing an amazing job fighting everybody off. He made men go down with ease until he was outnumbered. "Shit." I muttered to myself. I made a move to stand up hand grabbed my shoulder. I swiftly turned around ready to hit whoever grabbed my shoulder, until I realized it was Peggy.

"Y/n?" She said with shock in her eyes. Behind her I could see the colonel and soldiers. This was part of the plan. "How.. How are you alive?" Peggy stammered. I wasn't sure if now was the right time to explain everything to them if they were in the middle of their plan. So I decided to leap forward and embrace her.

"I'll explain everything later, but right now tell me what to do." Peggy let go of me and started to quickly explain that they had caught Dr. Zola and he told them that they were going to drop bombs and we needed to prevent that from happening.

"Move out!" Colonel Philips yelled. He gave me a gun indicating I was gonna fight with them. I followed after them and left and right people were being shot at by Hydra and vaporizing into tin air. Peggy was running next to me. We were both trying to shoot anybody that was a threat and they were trying to shoot us. The closer we got the bigger of a target we were. One Hydra agent got a little too close to Peggy and tried to shoot her, but I quickly moved my arm in the way and my bracelets that covered my lower arms caught the blast. I quickly looked up at Peggy who was looking at me in utter shock. But I turned back to the Hydra agent and ran towards him. I leaped forward and kicked him in his chest, knocking him out.

Peggy came running next to me. "You'll explain later?" She said with a smirk. "I'll explain later." I told her as I grabbed the gun from the soldier.

We both ran inside the facility taking out other Hydra agents while also losing some of our soldiers. The Hydra agents that were blocking our way were almost taken out when one spoke up. "Cut of one head, two-.." And I shot him. "Sorry? What was that? You didn't finish." I said with a smirk.

"Alright this way y/n." Peggy told me. "No, you go. There are more of them here and I'll make sure nobody will surprise you from behind. Now go!" I yelled as I ran the other direction.

And on que more agents emerged. I shot at them and one by one they were all turning into dust. For a second I looked down at the gun. I was amazed that this gun was powered basically by a grain of sand that was from the Tesserect. Only gives me more reason to find the full Tesserect. I shook my thoughts away and started looking for it. The Tesserect might be in a lab and if that ugly red skull is there as well it would just be a bonus. As I started running I realized something.

"SHIT!" It's not gonna be in some lab. Hydra is gonna bomb cities in a plane. He and the Tesserect are on the Goddammed plane. "FUCK!" I yelled to myself as I turned around and started running into the direction Peggy went.

How could I not have thought of that? My mind is so distracted I need to focus. As I ran through the hall I saw soldiers laying on the ground. It pained my heart seeing them. But I will not let their lives be waisted. They can't win, Hydra can't win.

I ran though a big door and ended up in a enormous hallway. This is probably where the plane was, but it was gone. People were still fighting.

"Y/n?" I heard Gabe yell from behind me. I turned around and saw him fighting off a Hydra agent. I ran towards him and kicked the agent off and he slammed into the wall. I put my hand up for Gabe to grab and he did that. "I thought.. Steve and I both thought you and Buck-.." I looked down and shook my head.

"Your ok I see." He said as he gave me a quick hug.

"We still got some things to do. The hugging can wait." Colonel Phillips said as he stepped out of a car with Peggy. I let go of Gabe and walked over to Peggy following her. "Where's Steve? I thought he was gonna be with you." I asked her, my mind running with all the things that could have happened to him.

"He is on the plane. He is going to stop it." She told me while having a quick pace.

We all went to the control tower waiting for a response from Steve. It was all nerve wrecking. Steve was up against someone alone in a plane. And in the mean time more Hydra agents had showed up. Colonel Phillips had ordered the soldiers to fight them off while we waited for a response from Steve.

All the wile I could only think that we could not lose. So many people have lost their lives. Because of this stupid war, because of Hydra. So many innocents. They need to be avenged. And Steve has the power to do that. He needs to stop that plane and prevent more people from losing their lives.

"Come in this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?" We heard over the radio. Peggy immediately went over to the speakers.

"Steve is that you? Are you alright?" Peggy asked in concern. "Peggy, Schmidt's dead!" Steve said over the coms. Relief washed over me. It is done then, we won.

"What about the plane?" Peggy asked Steve. "That's a bit tougher to explain." Steve answered back. There has got the be some place where he can safely land.

"Give me your coordinates, I'll give you a safe landing site." She pressed on. My heart was pounding. We won right? I was a bit unsure now. I didn't like the way this was going.

"That's not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down." Steve explained. Colonel Phillips tapped my shoulder and pointed to the door. I closed my eyes. I knew where this was going.

We walked out of the room and everything started to blur. We had to win. Steve coming back alive is us winning. We had to win. Everyone in the hall was quiet, besides the gunshots you could still hear from outside. I think we were all trying to listen to what the conversation was with Peggy and Steve.

In just three days time I can not lose.. I can not lose two people I care about. "Please live Steve." I whispered to myself as I looked down.

"This is my choice." I heard Steve say faintly over the coms. "No." I whispered as I shook my head. My heart was pounding so fast I could feel it in my ears. I felt so powerless. Please live. I thought to myself again and again. "Please live, you're a good man Steve." I said quietly to myself again. Anticipating what would come next.

I heard them talk about a dance. Scheduling a date.

"I'll show you how. Just be there." Peggy said her voice wavering.

"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your..." Silence.

I took a few steps back until I was leaning against the wall and closed my eyes for a second. We won, but what did we lose? I let out a wavering breath. I felt myself turn hot. Again I thought of why this was not in any of the history books. I never learned about Hydra, Captain America or the Howling commandos. Was this all for nothing.

My anger was boiling inside of me. All these lives lost.. and for what? I failed, I failed to do the one thing I was supposed to do.

Then something clicked in my mind. If all of this was not important enough to be written down and remembered in books, I'll make sure there is nothing to remember. I am going to kill all the Hydra agents, every last one of them.

I took a deep breath and stood up right and started to head towards the gunshots that were still going on outside.

"Where are you going Ironside?" Colonel Phillips asked.

"To do something I should've done right from the beginning." i yelled back as I went for the door.

As I came to the entrance our soldiers were taking cover. We had the facility. But the Hydra agents were still shooting trying to get through and there were a lot more than I initially expected.

"What are you doing here?! Take cover!" Gabe yelled from his hiding spot at me. I gave him one look before ignoring him and walking straight into the line of fire.

My hands started to glow and I put them in front of me to catch all the blasts that were coming my way. Their guns were strong but I was stronger. Soon everybody from Hydra was shooting at me while I still walked forward. I wanted to be far enough away from my soldiers.

"Y/n!" Gabe yelled after me.

The magic glow started to slowly surround me doing it's job of protecting me.

When I was far enough I closed my hands making fists. "You get what you deserve." I said quietly. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on my power. Where it was coming from and where I wanted it to go. I felt it the power all over my body, but it was the strongest by my heart. I felt it was contained, caged almost. I took a deep breath.

And in one swift motion I opened my hands and put my arms up to my side.

Gold and white glow blasted out and swirled all around me, it made me slowly float in the air. It became bigger and bigger quickly and as soon as it hit the agents it vaporized, leaving nothing behind. In seconds the Hydra agents the were attacking us were completely gone.

This power felt great. Finally it was being let out after so long. They were getting what they deserved. All of them.

"Y/N! Y/N!" I heard someone yelling from behind me. I turned around. It was Peggy with fear written all over her face.

...

..

1972

"Love, you are losing yourself with all this power. You need to control it or it will control you." Loki told me with seriousness in his eyes. "Look around you. Look what it is destroying." I looked up at him. His eyes looked full of sorrow. He was right.

I turned around. Kattegat. All the memories I had here. It was all gone now.

..

.

To be continued

Next: Ævi - The Battles That Are Fought

Let me know what you think :)

Sorry it took so long with this one, I had a busy few weeks :(

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[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 7

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

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At least their purchases were found undamaged. That was a little upside to the disaster of the supervillain attack. Marinette suspected Tikki might’ve had something to do with this, but didn’t comment. Police kept the rope dart as evidence, but they promised to return it as soon as it was possible. Marinette gave Gordon her number (after the commissioner was vouched for by Damian) and number to her mother. It was a possibility that she would’ve been called to court to testify. She was a prime witness and while her involvement declared only self-defense, Gordon told her in all honesty that the lawyer might try to put some blame on her. It was a sad reality, but Damian reassured both his beloved and the commissioner that they would be prepared. Waynes kept a contingent of lawyers not without reason. 

The teens were picked up by Alfred before the press figured out who the mysterious hero of the day was. Marinette really didn’t need more lights on her. It was enough that she agreed to make her relationship with Damian Wayne public at the gala. Objectively, she knew it was a better option than for the press to learn from students of Gotham Academy. Inside, she was dreading the event anyway. 

When they arrived at the manor, Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were waiting for them. The girls launched themselves at the woman and she pulled them into a hug. Damian followed slowly, not revealing any emotions. 

“I received a call from Jim,” Bruce began once they were behind the closed doors, “something about Firefly and brave teens stopping the attack.” He looked at all three of them with a judging glare. It wasn’t that he was disappointed, but it made the teens feel under deep scrutiny.

“It was all me!” Marinette confessed immediately. “He stopped us from escaping and we were with a bunch of kids. I just acted and I might have kinda accidentally… defeated him.” She spoke very fast. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. We’re not angry or anything.” Sabine quickly reassured her while sending a glare at Bruce.

“Well… Yes.” The billionaire nodded slowly. “But you could’ve been more careful.”

“Ridiculous!” Chloé stared at the Wayne patriarch. “Utterly ridiculous! Of course, Dupain-Cheng could’ve just run away and left those poor lost kids to die, but she stayed.”

“I didn’t mean…” The man tried to speak, but the blonde ignored him. 

“But no! Mr. Batman thinks that suddenly protecting others without the suit is somehow wrong. I didn’t see you on the scene at all. There was Red Hood, but he arrived there only after Mari already took out that flying pyromaniac.”

“I just…”

“So don’t go off on us preaching safety when you have your kids running on the rooftops every night.” 

“But…” Bruce had no idea what just happened. He only wanted to congratulate them…

“I did get all the fabrics I will need, but we didn’t get to eat.” Mari decided to change the subject and spare her father-in-law further humiliation at Chloé’s hands.

“The lunch will be ready in five minutes. You can take it in the dining room.” Alfred spoke from behind Bruce, startling the poor billionaire. It was apparently not his day. 

When the group moved there and took their seats, joined by Cass, who was the only other permanent resident of the Manor, Marinette decided on the next subject. 

“And how did the Class trip go?” She asked her mother with a bright smile. The woman sent her a tired look in response. 

“They are monsters. I sympathize with their parents if that’s how they act every day…” 

“They can’t be that bad, love.” Tom tried to defend the kids, but several stares from around the room would kill him if it was possible. “I meant can. My English is bad. I meant can.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“That Lila girl is indeed a talented manipulator when she is not going overboard. If I didn’t know her, I might’ve actually fallen for her lies. And she even doesn’t resort to lies anymore.” 

“What?!” Marinette was glad that she only got the lunch served and didn’t yet eat anything. “No way!” 

“Yes. It looks like she established herself as an internet star to the point where she is somewhat famous.” 

“Tt. She is still a harlot.” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“The modeling for the Gabriel brand and Ladyblog. Outside of Paris, it would make her into a star of some internet super-hero show in addition to a front-page model!” Marinette was suddenly enlightened. “I can’t believe her lies actually worked!” She collapsed in her chair, resigned. “Guess lying did work for her in the end…” Her face took a look of a beaten puppy.

“Say a word, Angel, and we can make you into three times the star she might be,” Damian spoke and Chloé nodded in agreement. 

“It’s not that!” The bluenette tried to protest. “I just… Her lies hurt people. I told her that it wouldn’t work in the long run, and she proved me wrong ten times over…” 

“Lila… bad.” Cass frowned. “Hurt Nettie.”

“Cass…” The girl tried to say something, but her cousin continued.

“I will… hurt Lila.” She stated confidently. 

“No!” Marinette protested. “I’ve got enough trouble stopping Damian and my mom!” 

“She is bad,” Cass stated confidently. 

“Cassandra.” Bruce glared at his daughter, but before he could explain things to her, Sabine intervened. 

“Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to help Mari, but we must also respect her wishes. Even if I already have a place chosen… Never mind.” She smiled brightly before anyone questioned her. 

The whole table exploded into laugher while Damian and Cass smiled wider than usual. It was just such… a familial scene. Like they weren’t a bunch of superheroes, but a happy family. Even if the talk was about murder. 

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In a dark, damp room two people stood opposite one another. The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head. 

On the opposite was a woman in a dark-blue dress that hugged her figure very tightly. The clothing ended barely above her bust, continuing with a sparkly net that was almost translucent. From under the cut starting just below the belt, her legs were also visible and covered in the same sparkly net. The blue/purple of her skin clashed slightly with the dress, but the sparkles of the fancy net managed to offset it to the point it was barely noticeable. Her deep-blue hair was pinned back into a rather messy bun with two long strands framing her face.

“Are you sure?” The young man asked. 

“Don’t worry,” she dismissed. “My grandma reassured me that this is perfectly safe. Besides, it’s too late to stop now.” She grinned and pointed her folded fan at the ground. When she unfolded it, several candles lit with pink flames, bathing the room in an eerie light. The light reached to three bodies laid in circles drawn with their blood. The two figures in the center were also in a runic circle. 

“The bond will not interfere with my Princess?”

“Whatever that vile American did to her must have hurt her badly. You do want to save her and lift the curse, right?” She grinned when there was a new fire in his eyes. “And I told you about my demands.”

“I’m still not convinced.” He glared at her. “And I told your grandfather that his demands are ridiculous.” 

“They are my demands.” She corrected him in an amused voice. “If you don’t want my help…” 

“Fine. I will do it.” He suddenly closed the distance between them until they were face to face. “But don’t even try to trick me. I’ll know and I will end you. Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.” 

In response, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Immediately, the boy recoiled. She just licked her lips. “Whatever you want, beloved.”

“Ugh. Let’s just get done with this.” 

The candles went out one by one when the female chanted in Latin. When the twelfth and last one died out, the room was once more dark. Then, the runes lit and red light enveloped both of them. She reached to the center and grabbed a small goblet. After taking a sip, she handed it to the boy. 

He hesitated for a moment, but then also took a sip. They were both enveloped in deep scarlet light until it died out and both of them fell unconscious on the ground.

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Marinette and Chloé had to go with the class for the next trip, which was to the Botanic Garden. Damian and surprisingly Cass also joined them. And this was how the class almost signed their death warrant and handed it to Sabine. 

As soon as the guide started speaking about various plants they had there, Alya and Lila started gossiping in the back. 

“...told you she was a…”

“...I can’t believe he would…”

“...and that black-haired…”

“If it was up to…”

“I bet she just…”

“Maybe it’s a thing here?” 

Finally, Sabine had enough. She asked the guide for a five minutes break to rein in the misbehaving group. Caline tried to protest, but she was silenced when the older woman looked her in the eyes with fires of fury. 

“Listen up, because I’m not going to be repeating myself.” She started. “Cassandra is my niece, who lives in Gotham. By a lucky turn of events, she turned out to know Damian and agreed to accompany me and Marinette today.” She glared at every student in the group. Sabine noted that Alix stood alone in the back, separate from Max and Kim. “She is a precious little bean and if any of you dare to say anything bad about her again without even trying to talk to her first, I will personally see to it that your trip will be very-” She made sure to put emphasis on the word “-unpleasant. And if you even think about hounding her, I will see you suspended.”

“Now… Sabine, I think you’re…” Madame Bustier tried to defuse the situation.

“Caline. It is, and always will be for you, Madame Cheng. I’m on this trip to make sure they behave. If you’re not going to help me, try not to make my job harder than it already is.” She huffed and looked back at the class. “Am I understood?”

Several barely audible “Yes” could’ve been heard if someone tried hard enough. 

“Good for now.” Sabine looked at their guide. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt.” 

“No worries Mrs. Cheng.” The woman chuckled. “Anyone who tries to badmouth Cassandra or anyone from her family deserves your wrath.” 

“Good. We can continue.” And so the group moved on. 

Lila decided to change the subject of her lies and now kept talking about how good friends she was with Damian Wayne, or rather her Damiboo. It was clear that their guide wanted to add something, but Marinette’s boyfriend made a gesture to stop him. The grin on his face made it clear he had different plans.

After they finished the trip, the class was placed in the bus with Sabine while Damian and the girls were left free to wander around. Some tried to protest, but one murderous glare from Madame Cheng shut them up hard. 

“Why Marinette and Chloé are allowed to wander around with some boy, while we are confined to the Hotel!?” Kim protested. 

“Yeah! Lila can’t even meet her boyfriend!”

“It’s simple.” Sabine cut them off. “Marinette and Chloé are staying with Damian’s family, which is their host family for this trip. You will be meeting your host families after the new year.” She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing some more salt into Lila’s wound. She might be an adult, but it doesn’t stop her from being petty sometimes. Especially when someone decides to speak badly about her favorite (and hopefully only) niece. “If your… Damiboo was missing you so much, you could’ve asked him to invite you. Cassandra said he is attending Gotham Academy. I’m sure he would love to have you stay with him at Wayne Penthouse.” 

“Oh! He did want me so badly with them, but we agreed that it would be better for me to get to know some of his friends.” Lila answered quickly and Damian had to stiffen a groan. How could someone be so dense? 

“Suuure.” Sabine grinned. “Then please don’t complain about the situation of your own making.” It was clear that the discussion was over. Damian, Marinette, Chloé, and Cass were left to their own device. 

“Chlo, I love you like the best friend you are,” Mari started when they were alone, “but Damian’s got a date planned. So bye!” She said before running off with her husband, leaving the flabbergasted blonde and the noirette alone.

“Ice cream?” Cass pleaded.

“Fine. I guess I can hang out with you then.” 

“Ice Cream!” The other girl almost jumped in the air. 

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The couple walked through the gardens in silence, holding hands and enjoying the cool air around them. The temperature was warmer than outside, but still rather frosty. Marinette, feeling bolder, dragged Damian’s hand down slightly and pulled him closer to her. She cuddled into his shoulder and smiled. After dealing with the class, it was nice to have some peace, only the two of them. 

“So…” She started with a grin. “Wayne penthouse?”

“Tt. For your information, it’s where Drake and Brown live.”

“But Damiboo! You wound me! And I thought we could stay there together.” Marinette did her best Lila impression. 

He tried to scowl, but the end result was an unholy mix between scowling and grinning. 

They wandered around, laughing at occasional jokes and generally enjoying the time. At some point, Marinette dragged him to a hot-dog cart to enjoy what she called a ‘taste of America’. He couldn’t help but smile at some of her antics. They stopped for some coffee to rest their legs. He allowed her to talk most of the time, listening to all the details of her new outfit for Jagged Stone. 

“...so I decided to replace half of the usual silver studs with golden ones. Or rather gold-colored. He doesn’t actually like the wealth display that much and is all for replacing it with cheaper ones. When his producer one time tried to force me to make him everything with the actual gold, Jagged signed it and immediately donated it to The Gotham Orphanage.”

“I remember.” Damian’s memory flashed him an article about it. “And don’t be modest. It held your signature too.” 

“Well… He wanted to throw it to Fang first. It was so much not his style.” She smiled. “Bob almost had a stroke when he learned that he still had to pay for it full price. I think it was actually the first commission I accepted that was not priced like clothes for friends. I did deduce the cost of materials that he provided though.” 

“Habibti. You’re amazing.” 

She blushed at the compliment. “I’m not! I’m just a normal girl.” 

“An amazing normal girl.” 

“How can you be so smooth and so socially awkward at the same time?!” She squeaked.

“Because people are fools. You are perfection incarnated.”

“Stop it!” She giggled. “I’m not! I’m clumsy and awkward.”

“It doesn’t stop you from being perfect.” He countered. Before she could protest, he lifted a cookie and put it in her mouth. She bit it and munched it in silence. When she swallowed, he continued feeding her. In retaliation, she picked some whipped cream and gave it to him. They ended up feeding one another and laughing.

It was slowly getting dark, so they started walking toward where Alfred would pick them up. They still had some time, so Mari dragged Damian into the music store. There was a whole stand for Jagged Stone discs. 

Marinette, feeling devious, pulled out a marker and signed two before handing it to Damian. He thought for a short moment before making a small heart next to her name and putting down his autograph too. They hid the discs behind others and moved on. In the end, Marinette bought some ballet music for Cass that Damian told her she didn’t have yet. The bluenette liked her cousin and wanted to get her something for ditching her with Chloé

When they exited the store, Alfred was waiting there, ready to take them to the Manor. The two sat in the back of the limousine in silence, cuddled together. By the time they arrived at their destination, Marinette had dozed off. Not having the heart to wake her, Damian did his best to gently lift her and carry her to her room. Somewhere along the way, she clutched to him tightly and didn’t let go even when he placed her on the four-poster bed. He sighed. He didn’t know if he would survive the teasing he would receive after someone finds them. Scratch that. Sabine would kill him before that. 

Still, he would have to wake her up. With one more look to make sure the doors were closed, he lied next to her and stared up. He could at least stay awake, right?

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Masterlist // Next

[husbandograveyard]

Out of all days to get lost...

Hello everyone! This is part II of the beautiful Fern Flower Scenario @some-piece​ wrote for her summer challenge. Please go read it and follow her, she writes the best things I swear!  The part II started off as a joke of which I really loved the concept, and I couldn’t say no when she asked to collab! I hope you enjoy part 2~ 

Summary: Zoro has an awful habit of getting lost. Even on his wedding day.  Character: Zoro. Word count: 3.2k  2nd person Reader insert. Disclaimer that the wedding is loosely based off of the stereotypical western idea of marriage.

Weddings weren’t really common in the pirate world, besides the arranged kind, especially if you’re in any way or shape related to big mom or another influential family. But the ones out of love? Rare. There is very little time and space for love, let alone wedding parties with entire pirate crews involved while there’s enemies all around, marines and other pirates alike. 

Zoro and you hadn’t been really sure on how you would break the news to the other crew members. So far, Robin had been true to her word and had not spoken a word to anyone about it. There were some mysterious smiles and knowing glances, but those were not new for Robin, so everyone kept sailing after you left the island where the Fern Festival was held, blissfully unaware of what had happened in the forest. 

The way everyone found out was by accident. Nami had ‘spotted’ the ring in cleaning out the room. You had decided to stash it away carefully, keeping the news and the funny story around it between mostly you and Zoro for now, but once Nami connected the dots, she went off about how you had denied her the berries price for finding the Fern Flower, and you had no choice but to explain the circumstances. Nami’s yelling had by then attracted the attention from some other crew members, and before you knew the whole ship was aware of yours and Zoro’s status. 

Luffy was immediately ready to throw a whole feast, right then and there, but was quickly stopped by Nami, who had forgotten about her anger from minutes ago to now enthusiastically name all the things she wanted to do with you. You had to curb her enthusiasm a little by telling her you had already agreed on Robin as maid of honor, after all, she knew and had been able to keep quiet. 

That didn’t stop Nami from still rambling on about all the things she wanted to do and plan. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was more happy about the engagement than you are. After talking it over with the whole crew, Zoro placing a hand on yours the entire time as you said what the both of you wanted to do, actual plans were made. 

Nami and Robin would be in charge of the clothes of everyone. Your dress, the men’s suits, everything. Zoro agreed as long as it wouldn’t be ‘too flashy’ or ‘too tight’. His only requirements were being able to breathe, and being able to carry his swords. It’s not like Zoro didn’t want to be involved in everything, he just mostly wanted you to be happy, himself to be comfortable and have a party with those who matter most. Other than that, he was fine with mostly everything. 

Nami would map out a route to an island that did not have many inhabitants and would be safe to dock at without getting in trouble with the locals, marines or other pirates. A ceremony on the beach would be a little more special than one on the sunny. 

Jinbe would be the officiate the marriage, and Usopp and Franky would take care of the special effects. You weren’t entirely sure what that meant but you let them to that, if it made them happy to contribute. 

Luffy was Zoro’s best man, you were not entirely convinced if your captain was the best choice for the role, but it was Zoro’s choice, and you knew how much he cared about his captain. In all honesty, Luffy had very little idea of what exactly was going on, but was happy to just follow whatever instructions, as long as there was enough meat at the afterparty. 

Of course, Sanji would take care of the food, his eyes lit up when you said he was free to experiment with whatever recipes he saw fit. The moment he got the okay, he practically dove into the kitchen to get started on little testers for you, Nami and Robin to decide on. Even begrudgingly giving some to Zoro, he had a say in this too after all, it was heartwarming and hilarious to see them interact on their best behavior just for this special occasion, it truly was something. 

Chopper was going to be the ring bearer. Zoro really wanted the little reindeer to have an important role and this seemed perfect. Chopper was more than excited to even help go pick out the wedding rings. The actual wedding rings would be kept in his possession just so Zoro couldn’t lose them again. Just to be safe. 

Last but not least, Brook was in charge of the music and he had promised to compose a handful of songs just for the occasion. Seeing the whole crew work together for this made you emotional already, even weeks before the big day came. It was heartwarming and it seemed to give everyone an extra boost during the rest of your adventures, because on your way to the island that Nami picked out, there were still plenty of pirate things to do.

Time flies when you’re having fun, or when you are dreading something. The closer you came to the island where it all was gonna happen, the more nervous you got. You didn’t even know why exactly. You were looking forward to it so much, the cherry on top of the best relation you ever had and the only one you wanted to have still for the rest of your life.

You were looking forward to it every night you went to sleep in Zoro’s arms, your head resting on his broad chest, his even breaths lulling you to sleep even though your heart was racing with unnecessary stress and anticipation. But with every preparation that got finished, every little item checked off the list, you were feeling like everything was just too perfect? Suspiciously so. The day could be perfect, that’d be ideal. But the slightly pessimist voice in the back of your head kept nagging you about what could possibly go wrong.

You docked at the island by the evening a few days later. All preparations were complete, now it was only a matter of going through the motions. A small party in the evening, preparations in the morning and noon, and then the actual ceremony would be tomorrow in the evening, exchanging vows as the sun goes under. It seemed incredibly cheesy to Zoro, but it everyone had rather unanimously decided that it was also incredibly romantic, and time-management wise it worked out very well. You could party all night, and continue the adventures in the morning. It was all perfect.

You excused yourself from the evening party rather early, nerves eating at you and you wanted to be up early and feeling well the next morning to be able to help wherever you could. You kissed Zoro goodnight, who replied that he’d be joining you in a bit. He would probably only admit it to you if you asked, but he was looking forward to it too, and was actually uncharacteristically nervous about it as well. But even if everything possible went wrong, there was nothing in the world that could ever diminish his love for you and that helped a lot to make him feel at ease. He had proposed to you buck naked, it could only get better from here on out.

You were still awake when he eventually joined you for the night. He noticed, but was still careful as he joined you in bed.  “Can’t sleep?”  “I’m nervous”  “No need to be. We know we work well. You’re gonna look so nice, and we’re just gonna have a nice party with the crew. It’s just affirming what we have”  You smiled. His blunt honesty sometimes was exactly what you needed. You turned to your side, kissing him softly before gliding down so you could rest your head on his chest. 

You were about to close your eyes when you started overthinking again. You jerked up as your brain had successfully misguided you into thinking you misplaced something.    “The rings!”  “Don’t worry, Chopper is keeping them safe.”  “Oh, right...”  Zoro chuckled, stroking your back as he tried to calm you down so you could sleep. You felt stupid for being so nervous, but well, there was nothing you could do to keep your emotions from going haywire.

Zoro’s breathing was steady and even as it always was, but you could hear his heart beating a little faster in his chest and you smiled, happy to know you’re not alone. But he had been right. Nothing could go wrong. You were just going to affirm what you had. And what you had, was magical. Dorky as he could be, blunt as he could be, you loved this man with all your heart. He was strong, honest, and too many other things to name up. He made you so, so, so incredibly happy and it was the good thoughts of the man you were lying on, combined with his soft snoring - even nerves weren’t enough to keep him from his naps - that eventually lulled you to sleep as well. 

The following day chaos ensued. It was not that nothing was prepared, it was just that so many little things and final touches needed to be done, that everyone seemed to be in each other’s way. You barely managed to kiss Zoro good morning before Nami dragged you out of the room to get you all ready, but not before she lectured Zoro on not being allowed in your room under no circumstances until the ceremony. Zoro was barely awake, but groggily nodded as Franky came over to drag him away as well. 

Nami and Robin barely let you do things yourself, making sure your hair was perfectly in place, the dress was in order, and when they were all done, you felt yourself tear up a little when you looked in the mirror. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. You spent most of the afternoon talking, the two doing their utmost best to distract you to keep you inside so you wouldn’t accidentally be revealed to Zoro too early. It worked fairly well, in spite of the occasional emotional moment when you talked about Zoro and the few nervous moments when there was just too much ruckus outside for it to be normal preparations. 

Time was dragging on, and then there was a knock on the door. Sanji came in, looking rather serious, you figured it was because of the whole buffet he’d been cooking from early morning on till now, one would be tired from doing less than that in a day. He swooned when he saw you, complimented you and your dress furiously before taking Nami to the side and whispering something in her ear. Her eyes widened and you felt your heart sink. Something was wrong. 

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”  Sanji took a deep breath, sighed heavily and stood in front of you.  “Don’t panic y/n, we will get it in order. But....”  “But what?” You were getting nervous. What could possibly have gone wrong at this point in time that it would mess with the wedding enough to make you panic?  “They can’t find Zoro.” Nami filled in angrily, “I told you to watch him!”  “Hey! I was cooking all day, he was with Franky and Usopp. Said he was nervous, went into the city for some sake so he’d leave us alone to deal with all the wedding things so he wouldn’t bother us. And then he just went off in the general direction of the city.”

You were unsure whether to laugh or cry or panic or all at once.  “Guys, you really let Zoro, go find a city, on a new island, all by himself? He’s probably wandering around somewhere”  Sanji replied. “We realized too late that it might be a bit of a problem. Franky already went into the city to retrieve him but we cannot find him.” 

You stood up, Nami pushing you back into your chair.  “Please y/n, let us handle this.”  You scoffed. “Like hell I will. Besides, I have a knack for finding him whenever he’s lost. Call it our connection or something. I don’t care if he sees me earlier  than we’re supposed to.” You weren’t even that discouraged, finding Zoro was something you had done before. Just never in a wedding dress. But hey, there was a first time for everything right? 

You crumpled up your dress and held it up with your two hands so you could walk around more easy, thanking whatever deity there was on sea that you had opted for flat shoes as you ran onto the beach, in the general direction of the city, before going a completely different direction, something your instincts told you your fiance must’ve done as well.

The sky was starting to color all kinds of yellow and orange and you cursed a little, pretty sure the planned timing was already off. But well, no wedding without a groom right? You chuckled a little to yourself. Of all the days he could get lost, he had to pick today. He was probably getting at least frustrated, and you hoped that maybe he’d yell out, that would at least make locating him a little easier. 

You ended up in a little forest in between the beach and the city, almost half an island away from where the Sunny was docked. Your heart was beating fast and you were a little out of breath from power walking all the way here, but you were pretty sure this was it. An frustrated grumble and the familiar sounds of swords slashing something let you know that you were dead on. Was he really getting so frustrated that he was ready to cut down a forest in order to find the way back more easily? Apparently. Relieve washed over you and you ran in the direction of the sound, now yelling out his name. 

Now, Zoro’s inner compass isn’t worth anything, but there is nothing wrong with his ears and withing seconds he was by your side, looking a little disheveled from running around in the forest, and completely speechless when he saw you in your white dress. You hugged him tightly and when you stepped back he was still kind of staring. It was almost funny, you had never seen him at such a loss for words. 

“Are you okay babe?”  “Yes... I... wow... Fuck..Sorry”  You giggled, you’d never seen him like that.  “You look gorgeous”  “Thank you”, you smiled, “you’re not looking too shabby either.”  “I ruined it all didn’t I? Lost the ring, now lost myself?” The guilt in his voice was apparent. It had to be, otherwise he’d never even be admitting that he had gotten lost.  “You didn’t ruin anything. I am here, in a white dress, you are here, in your costume. There’s a crew waiting for us with food, and booze, and a ring. There’s nothing wrong, we’re just affirming what we already have.” You used his own words against him, smiling broadly as you pressed your lips to his. He melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you so close you felt like you were going to lose your balance if it weren’t for his support.  “I love you so much”  “I’m glad you do cause we’re literally about to get married” He laughed one of his rare, heartfelt laughs and it was so pure, so genuine, that you felt your eyes tear up already. It may be getting dark, but it was not too late to do this thing. 

The crew had decided to trust you, after all, you did manage to find Zoro more often than anyone else, due to that connection that could almost only be explained by you and Zoro really being made for each other. They had continued finalizing the preparations, but were still getting a little nervous as the sun was setting already. 

Franky just started making the big fire already that was meant for the afterparty. You could still get married in the moonlight, it would work out just as fine. The whole crew was reassuring each other that you could come back with Zoro any moment now. But that didn’t take away from the growing worries they were all getting. 

It was Jinbe who first spotted the silhouette of Zoro carrying you back to the sunny. Zoro had proposed he’d run with the two of you, while you gave directions. He didn’t want to tire you out more after running all the way to him, and was very fittingly carrying you back bridal style, under loud cheers of the rest of the crew. 

There was no time for scolding Zoro or fixing your hair. You laughed as Zoro put you down on the ground and kissed him quickly. “Let’s get married”. 

The ceremony itself was short and simple, and you were pretty sure Jinbe had cut out some parts to make it go even faster. You didn’t mind, now that everything was in place you couldn’t wait to get married, all the worries and nerves you had felt the past few days and hours had ebbed away the moment you kissed Zoro in the forest. 

You had promised yourself not to cry anymore, but when you were exchanging your vows, you couldn’t help but tear up, and you felt your heart swell when you noticed Zoro’s ever so steady hands were shaking when you exchanged the rings. You were pretty sure you heard Franky sniffle the entire time in the background too. When you sealed the vows, the ‘I do’s’ and the whole ordeal with a kiss, the crew cheered so loudly, you were pretty sure the entire island could hear it, and the party ensued. 

You sat down with Zoro, enjoying the delicious food Sanji had prepared, enjoying the warmth of the campfire and laughing at the stories of everything that had gone wrong during the preparations that the others were retelling now that it didn’t matter anymore and actually was funny. After the cake was cut and eaten, speeches and well wishes were given, another barrel of sake was opened and the strangest thing you’d ever seen happened: Zoro refused his refill. 

You were about to say something about it when he swiftly swooped you up in his arms. You yelped, immediately attracting the attention of the entire crew.  “Thank you all for helping us out. Thank you all for being here. But now that you all will stay out on the beach for a little longer, I am going to enjoy a proper wedding night with my beautiful wife.” Zoro’s tone of voice and smug grin left no room for imagination and you buried your blushing head in his chest while the crew could only laugh in response. 

Zoro didn’t even wait for answers as he walked towards the Sunny with you in his arms. You didn’t dare say it out loud, but you were happy that Sunny was right in front of you so at least he wouldn’t get lost on the way to your bedroom. 

Fin. 

[hutchhitched]

Only One K

Newly married, Katniss and Peeta honeymoon in a remote cabin where no one can hear how happy they make each other. When an unexpected thunderstorm forces them inside for the day, Katniss suggests filling the time with a game of Scrabble. She decides to get a little creative with her spelling when there’s only one K tile.

Written for @promptsinpanem’s 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) event

Rating: E

Author’s note: Back in July 2014, I was dreading a family event, but I was distracted by a wonderful gift—a sexy story sent through anon asks. When I shared my delight over the kind gesture with @authoresskika, she admitted she’d written it for me. It’s a wonderful example of Kika’s generosity and caring nature that she took her time to make my day better with her writing. As I struggled to decide what to write for this challenge, I remembered her story and decided to draft its prequel. While this can stand on its own, I suggest you read her story first.

Farewell, Kika! There really is only one you.

______________

“I’m gonna come,” Katniss pants, her voice rising with every word. “Peeta, I’m gonna come.”

 Her husband doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he thrusts upward to meet the frantic rocking of her hips. His jaw flexes and so do his pecs as she bounces up and down on his cock. His fingers dig into her hips, helping guide her as she rides him. Curls are plastered to his forehead with sweat, and she tosses her head impatiently as her long hair sticks to her neck and face. She should have left it in a braid, but Peeta had unraveled it with such tenderness the night before she hadn’t wanted to protest at the time.

 His voice is wrecked when he groans her name. With great effort, he blinks his eyes open to catch her gaze, and electricity shoots through her at the intimacy. His skin, slick with sweat, glistens in the beams of light streaming through the window. His hips slide against her inner thighs, and she can’t help but thrill at the power in his muscular frame. A rhythmic smack of the headboard against the wall matches that of their bodies pounding against each other. Both ring in her ears. It’s erotic and dirty and so, so good.

 Heat pools in her stomach, and she gasps for breath. He guides her fingers to her clit and joins her with varied speeds and concentric circles. Captivated by the way the tip of his tongue peeks between his plump pink lips, she matches it with her own. Hers feel swollen from the amount of use they’ve gotten over the past few days, but that’s to be expected. They are on their honeymoon, after all.

 “Peeta. Oh! Yeah. Yeah! Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhh.” The third iteration slurs into a heated groan as her body tips over the edge into climax. Climaxes. So many climaxes in the past few days, and they just keep getting better.

 “Don’t stop,” he grunts through gritted teeth when she slows. “Don’t you dare stop.”

 Breathless, she whines, “I can’t— I—”

 He pushes himself to sitting and pulls her torso against his chest. Cradling her cheek in his palm, he kisses her fiercely before growling, “You can.”

 And then she’s moving again as he wraps her legs around his waist and tilts her back until the angle of his cock rubs her just the right way and makes her want to scream. She’s never understood the term power bottom, but she does now. She’s at his mercy as he fucks into her, his biceps bulging, bending her back and biting her nipples. A shout rips from her, unbidden when his teeth clench a little too hard.

 Peeta stiffens beneath her and releases. Shouts and moans and curses and squelches and slapping skin and a million other sounds fill the room. She writhes against him and then crests again. He strokes her through it until they collapse into a tangle of limbs. Unable to move, she floats, euphoric and detached, and enjoys the afterglow.

 It’s a while before either of them is coherent. Peeta nuzzles her neck with open-mouthed kisses and little nibbles that occasionally have the sting of a full bite. His hands roam her bare skin, and she’s loath to move. Not when he’s still inside her, cradling her to his chest. Her new husband, Peeta Mellark, the love of her life.

 Eventually, she has to shift. Stretching, she grimaces at the feel of him slipping from her. Fluid trickles down her inner thigh as she pulls off to roll onto her side. He palms her, sliding his fingers in their combined ejaculate. He paints her stomach with the moisture before licking his fingers clean. It’s so lewd, she squirms to the far side of the bed. She needs a break before another round, and what he’s doing is a definite turn on in spite of her fatigue.

 “Good morning,” he murmurs and rolls over to slide back against her. “That was quite a wakeup call.

 “I’m so gross,” she complains and pushes at his hand, but he continues to run his fingers through the wetness.

 “I don’t think you’re gross. In fact, I think you’re just right. Covered in my come. It sliding out of you and down your legs. All waxed and smooth except for that sexy little runway strip that’s soaking wet. Open for me but tight inside. Clenching around me. Milking me dry.”

 The words melt like warm butter and run down her spine until she’s puddled against him, desperate for his touch, but way too oversensitive. He dips his hand between her legs again and rubs featherlight circles on her sensitive skin. His tongue traces her neck and jawline until she whimpers and jerks away from him.

 “You know,” she grumbles, “when we agreed on a remote cabin in a national park for our honeymoon, I kind of thought we might actually see some of the scenery.”

 He chuckles as his mouth closes over her nipple. “That was silly,” he chided. “My plan was always to get you naked and keep you that way as long as possible.”

 “Mission accomplished.”

 “Not if you’re planning to put on clothes.”

 “Peeta, I need a shower.”

 “No. No shower.”

 “I’m filthy,” she insists, even though her resolve weakens by the second.

 “I’ll clean you up.”

 “What do you—”

 She cuts off in a strangled groan as he slides down her body and buries his face in her pussy. He sucks and licks, alternating fast flicks of his tongue with long, slow sucks of her clit into his mouth. She gives in, losing herself to the feel of him burrowing against her and his tongue plunging inside deeper and deeper. She’s made entirely of sensation. There are no thoughts, no cares in the world, nothing outside of this moment and her husband making love to her in every conceivable way.

 Peeta’s a wonderful lover—considerate, passionate, flexible, sculpted, and generous. She’s luckier than she deserves, but she’s enormously grateful he chose her. Since she opened her heart, she’s never doubted that she’s always been it for him since the moment he saw her. It took her longer to fall in love, but that doesn’t mean her fervor is any less real. She feels more like herself when she’s with him than any other time. Sex with him could inspire sonnets if she had the same gift of words he does.

 She wrings herself out on him multiple times over the next several hours. He’s insatiable, and she’s powerless to resist him. They stumble to the kitchen for sustenance and end up sprawled on the table. He presses her to the wall in the shower and bends her over the couch when they try to watch a movie. Later, in bed, she rolls over to face him, so exhausted her eyelids droop and her words slur.

 “Gotta go outside house ’morrow,” she insists, both drunk and high on endorphins. A lazy smile spreads across his handsome face at her garbled speech, but she forces out her rationale. “Can’t do marathon day of sex. Need fresh air. Outdoors. Grass. Trees. Sky. Sunsets. Stars.”

 “I’ll make you see stars,” he teases and kisses the tip of her nose.

 “’M serious,” she hums. Blinking her eyes rapidly at him in an over-exaggerated attempt at flirting (at least she thinks she is), she begs, “Take me out, Peeta. See the world thingy.”

 His lips meet hers in a soft kiss. “Whatever you want. I’m yours, you know. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, inside and outside.”

 “Don’t ’member that part o’ the vows,” she argues sleepily.

 “You were probably distracted by my good looks.”

 “Maybe,” she sighs and sinks into the mattress. “T’morrow. Outside. No sexing. Tired.”

 “Well, I’ll let you in on a secret,” he whispers in her ear.

 “Hmmm?”

 “Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

 A tired giggle bursts from her, and she manages to ask, “Anytime?” She drifts into darkness as his answer drops from his lips.

 It’s still dark when she opens her eyes.

 Katniss blinks awake as a rumble of thunder shakes the cabin. It’s dark as midnight. Peeta snuffles softly in his sleep, his even breathing a salve to being shaken from her slumber. She slips from under her husband’s arm and stumbles to the bathroom, so she can pop her birth control pill and rinse her mouth with mouthwash. A flash of lightning startles her, and she hurries back to the bed and tugs the sheets back over her. Cuddling into Peeta’s warm body, she tenses when he pokes against her. It must be morning, because there’s a lot of wood. Struck with inspiration, she flips the sheet to the other side of the bed and grabs the bottle of lube off the nightstand. Slicking up her palm, she grasps him and pumps.

 He grunts and rolls onto his back, inadvertently giving her better access. She rubs her thumb over the head and squeezes as she pumps. His sleepy response melts her heart. His hips twitch until he’s fucking into her hand and releasing desperate noises that sound remarkably like begging.

 She rains kisses over his face and murmurs against his lips, “Peeta, are you awake?”

 His answer is a broken sob and thrusting hips. Determined to make him feel even better, she leans down and takes him in her mouth. His breath catches and then rips from him. She sucks in her cheeks and catches her front teeth on his slit. Bobbing her head, she slobbers until her spit covers him and runs over her fist.

 “Sweetheart. Oh, fuck!”

 And then he’s coming, his cock pulsing in her mouth and his come spurting against the back of her throat. He’s bitter on her taste buds, but she slurps greedily, intent on lapping up everything he gives her. He whines high in the back of his throat until he softens with a sated groan.

 “Good morning,” she says with a satisfied smirk. “Sleep well?”

 “Mmmm,” he agrees with a dopey grin. “Woke up better. Thought you wanted a sex break today. You didn’t need to get me off to get me up.”

 “Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

 “Sweetheart, you know I lean left—both politically and anatomically,” he teases and leans in for a kiss. It turns obscene so quickly her head spins. Only a particularly loud clash of thunder and burst of lightning snaps them apart. She’s still catching her breath when the rain starts, softly at first and then opening into a torrential downpour.

 “We were supposed to go outside today!” she wails.

 “Ah, honey,” he teases, a twinkle belying his insincerity. “Looks like the good Lord wants us to stay naked and have more sex.”

 “Pretty sure the good Lord wants us to get dressed and play Scrabble.”

 Peeta snorts before falling onto his back and shaking with laughter. When he’s finally able to breathe, he runs his fingers through his messy curls and acquiesces.

 “I like my plan better, but I’ll play Scrabble if you want to.”

 Katniss squeals and smacks away his hand that had managed to find its way to her breasts. Shaking her head, she stipulates, “Breakfast first, lover boy, and then board games. We’ve burned so many calories the past few days, I’ve lost a clothing size. I mean, I really like sexing you up, but damn. I need the break.”

 Peeta grins at her and leans up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself, but the second you say the word, I’m gonna be inside you again so fast…”

 “Kinky,” she laughs as she rolls to her feet. “I’m gonna shower. Do not follow me with your erection. I’ll only disappoint it.”

 “Kika? What’s that?”

 “I said, ‘kinky,’ weirdo.”

 “Calling me names doesn’t make me any less horny!” he hollers after her as she shuts the door and steps under the warm spray.

 She takes her time, soaping her hair and body with a lovesick grin on her face. She still has trouble accepting that Peeta adores her as much as he does. He was the only man she knew patient enough to wait for her to work through her reluctance to be intimate with anyone after her father died, and his constant kindness and willingness to be whatever she needed during high school and college had finally won her over. Now, almost thirty and newly married, she’s happier than she’s ever been. Even so, it still takes an inordinate amount of effort to push back the nagging thoughts that she doesn’t deserve any of it.

 “He loves me,” she insists to the empty room, “and I love him. I deserve to be happy.”

 “Breakfast’s ready. Come and get it. Dress is optional,” Peeta calls through the closed door.

 “Coming!”

 She switches off the water and quickly plaits her hair into a wet braid. She hesitates for only a second before tossing her towel onto a rack and walking into the kitchen completely naked. His back is to her when she enters, so she crowds up to him and wraps her arms around his waist.

 “Smells good,” she murmurs into his warm skin. “Thanks for cooking.”

 He turns to wrap his arm around her shoulder and tug her to his side and freezes. His eyes widen, and his eyes follow a trickle of water that escapes the tip of her braid and glistens on her breast.

 “You clean up nice,” he coughs. “Coffee?”

 Peeta keeps his word and lets her eat. He watches her as she arches her back and crosses and uncrosses her legs repeatedly. Pancakes have never been so sexy as she makes a show of enjoying every bite of fluffy goodness, and if she allows a sticky bit of syrup to cling to her lips so she can lick it off with the very tip of her tongue, well, that’s just payback for him sexing her up so hard she needs a lot of food to recover. By the time she finishes, Peeta’s given up all pretense of eating and is openly leering at her. He adjusts himself as she sips the last little bit of her coffee and appraises him.

 “Scrabble?”

 “I can think of better things to do.”

 “Well, yes, I’m sure you can, but you promised me board games, darling husband. It’s time.”

 “Oh, come on,” he protests, but she rises and waltzes to the couch. She exaggerates the swing of her hips just to torment him a little more.

 “Peeta Mellark, we’ve done it on every surface of this cabin. I’d like to beat your butt in word games, now, please.”

 “What about the car? We haven’t done it there yet.”

 “Car sex? Really? That sounds so uncomfortable.”

 “Not if you do it right,” he grumbles and runs his hand down her side and along her flank.

 “It would take a lot to get me in the mood in a car.”

 “Well, that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You’re incorrigible. Doesn’t your sex drive ever take a rest? Come on. Help me set up.”

 “You’re just going to sit there naked and distract me so you can win, aren’t you?”

 “Obviously.”

 “Completely unfair,” he grumbles as he grabs tiles and arranges them in a row.

 “So whiny. Remind me why I love you,” she teases, her smirk widening at his pout.

 “For my large…vocabulary.”

 “Oh, that’s what we’re calling it now?”

 “Shhh,” he hisses and places his first word.

 They play back and forth for a while, and she accumulates more and more points. When she draws a K and Y to add to her tiles, she decides her hundred-point lead is enough. Besides, it’s weird playing scrabble naked when her husband’s sporting a stiffy in his pajama pants.

 Peeta furrows his brow as he examines her play. “K-I-N-C-Y? Uh, challenge. That’s not a real word.”

 She curses the board game for limiting the tiles to only one K. How else is she supposed to get her point across subtly?

 “It’s hard.”

 He flushes and presses his palm to his crotch. “You’re naked! It’s not my fault,” he protests. “You can’t expect me to concentrate when you’re sitting there like that.” He waves his hand at her, and she grins.

 “I meant, the C.”

 “What?”

 “Read the word with a hard C.”

 Confused, he looks at it again and experiments with different pronunciations. “Ken-see? Kin-sigh? Kin— I don’t get it.”

 “Read it like a K.”

 “Kinky? Oh… That’s not how you spell it, though.”

 “True, but there’s only one K in Scrabble, and that’s my word.”

 “Your word?”

 Katniss sighs heavily. If she didn’t know how hard he’d been trying to get her back into bed, she’d swear he was being deliberately obtuse. Standing, she crosses to Peeta and straddles his lap before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “You told me the second I said the word you’d be inside me again. You’re late. A lot of seconds have passed. Kinky was my word, remember?”

 She yelps as he shoves her onto the coffee table. Scrabble tiles press into her back as he shucks his pants. He’s on her in seconds, his mouth devouring hers as he opens her with probing fingers and searing kisses. When they finish, her husband traces a message on her chest and then spells it out with tiles. There are plenty of tiles to spell “I love you.”