that teacher no longer waves at me:

1 | Save Me

word count: 

series warnings: violence, gore, probably smut at some point I mean it’s me we’re talking about, this chapter has mention of non-con

Originally posted by annabartollo

masterlist | ask | next

Another gloomy day, another substitute teacher. You looked up at the elderly man who stood at the front of the classroom, he was wearing brown slacks and a messily ironed green plaid shirt, no wedding ring, no signs of any life beyond being a substitute teacher at the university. Pity dawned on you when you noticed his face burning with embarrassment when the wave of realisation that he had no idea what he was doing washed over him. Not being able to watch the old man struggle any longer you raised your hand, to the surprise of everybody in the room, 

“Yes Y/N?" 

"Sir would you like me to help? I still have some of Mr Lee’s lesson plans in my bag I could-" 

"That won’t be necessary Y/N. I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself.” The man scolded before he turned around to write some equations on the board, he was much harsher than you anticipated. 

Exhaling deeply you slouched back into your chair, you missed your old professor, Mr Lee. He was a much nicer man. Though he was younger than most professors, he was always very friendly, smart and helpful, everything a professor should be. And being a high achiever in his class didn’t go unnoticed, once a week he would let you teach your group, and with you being president of the student union it meant that nobody could argue with his decision either. Other students had their theories, that you and he were secretly hooking up on late night study sessions, either that or the only reason he was so nice to you was because his younger brother was your flat mate. However none of the rumours were true, except from you living with his brother who was also a student. But that all changed two weeks ago, nobody knows exactly what happened but Mr Lee just vanished out of nowhere, completely disappeared off the face of the Earth. Of course there were varying theories, but nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, nobody knew anything. And so your fate of having to face substitute teacher after substitute teacher day after day was sealed. 

“She’s feisty today.” The orange haired boy sat next to you muttered, loud enough for you to hear, 

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anonymous asked:

You are one of my favorite Bellarke writers! Was hoping you can do a prompt about Bellarke trying to drink each other under the table. Or maybe something to do with Drunk! Bellarke

Drunk bellarke, coming right up.

Clarke readjusted her grip on the whiskey bottle and waited.  Bellamy opened his door and immediately his face went from confused to annoyed.  “What are you doing here?”

Clarke pushed his door open and shouldered her way in.  “We’re fixing this,” she announced.

“Fixing what?  And I don’t remember inviting you in, princess,” he said, but he shut the door behind her anyway.  Clarke thumped the bottle down on his table and started opening cabinets until she found shot glasses.

“You and me.  Octavia said she’s going to kill me if we don’t start getting along, so whatever our shit is with each other, we’re going to deal with it.”  She inspected the shot glasses to make sure they were clean— they were, and Bellamy sent a dark look her way for doubting him— and nodded at his table.  “Well?  Sit,” she said, and Bellamy kicked out a chair and flopped into it with ill-humor.

“You know this is my house, right?” he said as she poured each of them a shot.  Clarke ignored him and threw hers back.  “So what are we doing?” he asked, resigned.  “Or are we just going to drink until we don’t hate each other?”

“That’s roughly the plan, yeah,” she said, her eyes watering a little.  She poured herself another shot and waited for Bellamy to take his before topping him off.  “First of all, I don’t hate you.”  Bellamy snorted and she tamped down her irritation.  “I don’t,” she insisted.  “I find you aggravating.  There’s a difference.”

Bellamy cut her a look over the top of his shot glass and sighed.  “I don’t hate you either,” he gritted out.  “Do I have to do this straight?  Can we have chasers?”

“I didn’t bring any, what do you have?”

“Nothing that will work with whiskey.  You seriously didn’t bring a chaser?”

“I didn’t think you’d need one.”

Bellamy closed his eyes in frustration and sighed again.  “Okay, so we don’t hate each other.  We’ve established that.  Now what?”

Clarke shrugged.  “Tell me something about yourself.”  They had to have common ground somewhere, she figured.  She had just never bothered to try and find it, but Octavia and Raven had told her on no uncertain terms that she and Bellamy had to stop bickering or there would be hell to pay.  Booze was the easiest way to bond with someone, so here she was.

It was a plan, at least.  Not a good one, but a plan.

Bellamy, however, was doing his best to sink her plan before it got off the ground. “Tell you what?  You know me.”  He took his second shot and she poured him another one.

She swallowed a groan of annoyance.  “I don’t know, something.  Something that will make me like you.”  This shot of whiskey went down easier, but it still burned in her chest.

“I thought you already said you did.”

“No, I said I didn’t hate you.  Again, there’s a difference,” she retorted, but found a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.  She fought it, but it seemed to her like his eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Okay…I went to senior prom with pink nail polish on because Octavia wanted to help me get ready and I wouldn’t let her put my hair in braids.  Your turn.  Tell me something that will make me like you.”

Clarke couldn’t fight her smile much longer.  “I got suspended my freshman year of high school for calling a teacher a bigot.”

“You got suspended for that?”

“It was supposed to just be detention, but I organized a protest instead of going.  I doubled down so they did too.”

His smile flashed, and she noticed— not for the first time— how handsome he was.


Two hours later, they were officially friends but Bellamy’s floors had started to roll up and down like waves.  Clark stumbled out of his bathroom and tripped halfway down the hall, knocking her shoulder against the wall before tumbling to the ground.

“Shit, are you okay?” he yelled and came careening around the corner only to trip on the rug himself.  He landed next to her on his stomach and she burst into giggles.  He started laughing too and slowly they pushed themselves back into a seated position, Clarke propped against one wall and Bellamy against the opposite one.

“I should go home,” she hiccup-laughed.  “I’m drunk.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up in mock-surprise.  “You’re drunk?  Since when?”

“I’ll call an uber, where’s my phone?” she said, but made no move to stand up.  It was nice to sit like this where she had an unobstructed view of him.

“You shouldn’t call uber, that’s dangerous,” Bellamy stumbled over dangerous, his dark eyes glassy and unfocused.  Just yesterday she probably would have been annoyed with the way he said that; declarative, like she couldn’t take care of herself.  But now she heard the concern that lurked just under the surface.

She waved her hand at him.  “It’s fine.  Murphy works for uber.”

“Exactly.  Murphy works for Uber.  Come on, you can stay here.”  Bellamy stood up and offered her a hand.

“Do I get to sleep in your bed?” she asked, and something deep inside of her stirred a little.

“Not a chance.  I’ve got a couch though,” he said, and she took his hand to let him pull her up.  He pulled a little too hard and she ended up bumping into him.  His chest felt broad and strong, warm under her hands.  Bellamy threw an arm over her shoulders.  “Come on, the couch is this way,” he said, and she leaned into his chest as they walked.  Sober, she might have called it a nuzzle.  Drunk, it was just…something that happened.

Bellamy pressed his cheek against the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder, and Clarke wondered if she’d managed to fix them just a little too well.

When We Were Young - Part Three

Summary: Mick Davies has been like a friend to you since you were a kid and decided to sneak out of school to spend time with him. Unfortunately, though you got caught and that way, got separated from Mick. Up to this day, you were saddened that you couldn’t do more for him. Until you happened to come across him on your vacation in America.

Words: 1425

Pairing: Mick Davies x Reader

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst


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Pegoryu Prompt: Red String Pt 1


This is gonna be a two part fic. I’m almost done with it, but posting a long work on mobile is a beezy. Also sorry it took so long. Enjoy, babes!

In Ryuji’s dreams, he sees a red thread connecting him into the void. The blond follows it further and further into the depths. This is so strange, but he doesn’t question it. He would take any company in these dark, lonely dreams. Deeper in he runs in this space where his leg no longer hurts him. Where he might find someone who will stand beside him. Who does fate have in store for this boy abandoned by everything he once held so tightly? The darkness melts away.

Suddenly he is walking the halls of Shujin Academy. A heavy sigh escapes from him. This person is someone he’ll meet at school? He tugs at the thread, winding it around his wrist. Everyone passes by him. He stops in front of one of the classrooms on the second floor where the thread slips beneath the door. This is it. He will finally see who will be the one he’s destined for. He gulps and tentatively reaches out to slide the door open.

The room pulsates. Hulking creatures in suits of armor surround an unseen person. They grab at them and throw punches. Groans of pain and wet splatting sounds pervade the air. Kamoshida stands there at the teacher’s desk, lording above all of them. His eyes are yellow and crazed. The vulgar boy’s heart sinks into his stomach.

Not him…This asshole isn’t taking something important away from him again. Anger wells up within Ryuji. Something unstoppable fuels his actions as he makes his way to the edge of the crowd. No one notices. He’s invisible to these monsters, but not for long. None of these weird freaks in armor are gonna stop him. He psyches himself to shove his way through.

“Eff off!” The blond explodes into action. He shoves his way to the center of the fray.

Kamoshida eyes up the blond and cuts him off, leaping into the center of the horde of armored soldiers. As Ryuji reaches the center, Kamoshida snatches up the object of the blond’s desires by the throat. The vulgar boy stops in his tracks. The figure’s hands hang limply, with the thread wafting from the left ring finger. A mop of dark hair covers their facial features.

“What? You thought you could escape me?” The older man sneers and gives a wicked cackle. “I broke you and destroyed your future. You think I can’t take him from you too?” He hoists the figure higher, revealing that it’s wearing a boy’s uniform for Shujin Academy.

“Him?” Ryuji is incredulous. The one at the other end of the red thread is a guy? He seems to be, handsome, at least what he can see of the boy. His sculpted features make Ryuji blush slightly.

“Yes, a guy that is just as worthless as you.” The man gives a possessive stroke to the dark haired boy’s head. “Oh yes, if only this were a girl. I could take so much more from you both.” His lips twist up in a disgusting, perverted smile. That trashy bastard even has the nerve to plant a kiss on the boy’s neck.

Kamoshida takes pleasure in watching Ryuji’s disgusted face before he dumps the figure onto the ground. Thinking that he can squeeze just a bit more emotion from the blond, he jerks the brunet up by his bangs. A white mask clatters to the ground. Finally the blond can see the object of his destiny. Ryuji’s face burns with a deep blush. This boy’s face is gorgeous. Glasses cover grey eyes that are half lidded under red blood. Red as the rage within Ryuji’s heart. Red like the thread that binds them. It drips from his forehead, along the sides of his nose, and down to the corners of his shapely mouth.

“Ryuji…” Quivers out of his lips that are being stained in red.

Red cascades over everything. It distorts Kamoshida’s maniacal features. It covers all of the knights. It even covers the dark haired boy and pulls him down into the darkness. He reaches out for Ryuji and the blond reaches back. This can’t be happening. That asshole of a teacher is denying him happiness even in his dreams. He fights against the dark currents whisking away this boy away. He struggles hard against the dark waves of the abyss until his fingers are just barely able to brush against those of the bespectacled brunet. They both struggle to grab onto one another, but the slick dark ooze makes them both slip off of one another.

“Stay with me!” Ryuji shouts down at the brunet.

The brunet smiles up at him, no longer able to keep his head from sinking. Ryuji begins to cry, this feeling of helplessness is too much for him. He can’t stop the boy from drowning in this hell. All that is left with Ryuji is the red stains from the brunet’s blood. The void disappears, leaving him behind and alone again. The glasses come floating back up to the surface. Ryuji picks them up with trembling hands and holds them close to his chest. He will remember this face. That pale skin and sleek features. That head of messy dark hair. Those eyes that he could lose himself in. Eyes that burn with disdain for this fate. He will save this person. Kamoshida will not take this away. He sinks down into the abyss. Black and red fill his vision, then nothing.

Ryuji bolts awake. Sweat trickles down his forehead. He stares out his window into the night, the glow of streetlights and electric signs filter into his room, with the low hum of the evening club crowd. He sighs and flops back down to his mattress. Shadows play on his ceiling in vague shapes. One almost looks like the guy from his dreams. He reaches up and gives the jaw line a mock caress. He wonders if he’ll see this mysterious boy soon. Part of him hopes that he doesn’t, just so Kamoshida doesn’t have something else to take away from him. Ryuji is disappointed in himself. The features of dream boy are starting to become hazy, but those eyes are still there in all of their intense glory. He grasps at the air, almost hoping to capture that image and store it away. His arm drops and drapes across his eyes. Why is he still crying?

A month passes in a flash. Another day of being late to classes, on day one no less. The rain is coming down in buckets. Along with the added bonus that he just so happens to not have an umbrella since genius him decided to stay up playing the new Neo Featherman game instead of going to bed on time. Even worse is that the trains are all messed up from that incident where the bullet train driver lost his mind. Every line is congested and the entrances are switched all over the pace. And then he sees it. The worst thing he could possibly see this crappy morning. That asshole, Kamoshida, ushering Ann into his car. The hell is up with her being involved with a guy like that any way? The rage bubbling in his head translates to his eyes and face. He almost doesn’t notice that he ran past a cute looking guy.

“Dammit…Screw that pervy teacher.” Ryuji hisses out.

“Pervy teacher?” The brunet inquires in a low melodic voice. Where has Ryuji heard it before. It sounds so familiar.

The phone in the bespectacled boy’s hand starts sounding off a weird alarm, or app response. Both the boy and his phone attract the blond’s attention. He turns around and eyes the guy up. They’re about the same height. This guy has a little bit better posture than himself. He is also kind of a good boy looking person, wearing his uniform all proper n’ shit. It kinda pisses him off that this goody two shoes almost sounds like he’s mocking him. This kid really wants an ass kicking. The blonde squares up and gets up in the brunet’s face.

“…What do you want?” It comes out more like a sneer than a legitimate question. He’s almost glad that it sounds that way, maybe this guy will startle a bit and not be such a smart ass. “You plannin’ on rattin’ me out to Kamoshida?”

“Kamoshida?” The brunet seems genuinely confused, but unfazed by how gruff Ryuji was being. It’s almost impressive, but to not know who coach asshole is…

“Huh? In that car just now. It was Kamoshida.” His brown eyes narrow and betray every feeling he has for that rat bastard. “He does whatever the hell he wants.” The words keep spilling out, he doesn’t even know this kid, yet he feels comfortable telling him this shit. “Who does he think he is-the king of a castle? Don’t you agree?”

“King of a castle?” The shaggy haired boy just seems more confused.

“No, I mean…” Now he’s the one confused. Does this boy really not know? “…Wait. You don’t know Kamoshida? Are you for real?” He folds his arms across his chest and assesses this goody two shoes, know nothing guy. “You’re from Shujin, right?”

“You go to Shujin too?” The brunet’s grey eyes light up. God…where has he seen those eyes? He looks him over again. The pin on his lapel indicates 2nd year.

“A second-year, huh… We’re in the same grade then.” He can’t help but stare now. He has to remember him, for some reason this guy feels important to him. It’s not coming to him. “Never seen you before though.” His brows furrow, the brunet seems to be feeling a little awkward as well. Then it dawns on him. “Oh, you a transfer student?”

“Yeah, I just moved here a few days ago.” This guy’s smile…Ryuji can’t help but smile back at him. His heart feels just a little bit lighter. His posture relaxes.

“Then no wonder you don’t know him.” The tone of his voice is a total 180, he could probably even pass for friendly now. This day has gotten slightly better. “This rain ain’t too bad. We better hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

A violent ringing noise sounds off in both Ryuji’s and the brunet’s ears. They clutch at their foreheads in agony. Ryuji feels like he could topple over from how excruciating this headache is. What the hell is up with this? Just as this day was looking just a little better.

“Uuugh, my head hurts…” He looks up at the sky and hefts out a sigh. “Dammit… I wanna go home…” At least there he may be able to remember what the person from his dream looked like. He’s been trying to remember for weeks. Shoulda written down a description or something.

The two start their trudge toward the school. They weave through back alleys, lined with cooling fans and water pipes. The ringing sound still persists. The air doesn’t feel right at all. At least this new guy is on his heels just in case anything out of the ordinary happens. Ryuji can hear every time the brunet pauses due to the lack of splashing through the deep puddles in the walkway. He wonders if this guy feels the same way about this place. He reaches where Shujin should be…the keyword “should”, but there in its place is a big, stinking, medieval castle.

“Wha…” Ryuji is dumbfounded. There is nothing that could ever prepare him for this shit so early in the school year. What in the ever loving fuck is this?

The brunet comes rushing up the alley. At least he’s still here. He’s not alone in this crazy experience. Or rather, hopefully he isn’t alone. He would rather not be hallucinating things. He looks around, back at the alley way.

“We didn’t…come the wrong way though…” He turns back to the castle. This is the school that he’s been coming to for the past year, but it’s not. “Yeah, this should be right…” Now he’s really not so sure of himself.

Nothing is right today. Not the rain. Not the train. Not the teacher. And definitely not the school. The place is bathing in a sickeningly reddish hue. The ringing sound is persisting like no other. Everything feels totally out of whack.

“What’s going on here?” Ryuji looks at the brunet, who looks equally as nervous. Poor guy. His first day here and the school is totally fucked up. Time to suck it up and try to sound confidant. He doesn’t want this poor, cute nerd to lose his shit right now. “I guess we’ll just have to go ask.”

Agreement - DP

Someone asked for Lancer-Danny stuff.  Sorry I don’t remember who you were… it was a while ago… let me know your name and I’ll change this.

Threw in some ghost speak just for fun.


Edward Lancer glanced up from his lesson plans when the door to his tiny office creaked open and slammed shut.  A pale, dark-haired junior stood just inside the door, frustration evident all over his face, and in the way his eyes kept sparking green against blue, and the slow way he was rocking forward and back.  Lancer arched an eyebrow and glanced at the clock – only ten minutes until school started for the day – then back at his oddest student.  “Problems?”

Daniel Fenton burst into noise.  There was really no other way to describe the speech patterns of the frustrated child.  The words crawled under Lancer’s skin and a headache, not unlike the one caused by eating ice cream too fast, flared into life at his temples.

“Woah,” Lancer said, holding up a hand.

Danny’s voice cut off with a huff, his arms crossing over his chest, an annoyed wrinkle on his forehead.

“I didn’t understand a word of that,” the teacher admitted, ignoring his paperwork and leaning forwards, resting his elbows on his desk.  He studied the boy, looking for any sort of cuts or bruises that would help to explain what was going on, then gestured for Danny to come closer.  When the boy was within striking distance, Lancer grabbed an arm and flipped it around, looking at the scrapes and redness near his elbow.

Words bubbled out of Danny’s mouth again.  From past experience, Lancer figured it was probably a string of excuses.

He sighed and let go of Danny’s arm, watching the boy rub at it.  Lancer figured the minor injuries would be gone by lunch and decided it was not something to pick at just yet.  “Are you going be calmed down enough to go to class in a few minutes?”

His response was a wrinkled nose and a slow shake of the boy’s head.

Lancer pointed towards the chair in the corner by the tiny window.  What was this, the forth time in just a few weeks that Danny had come in to his office so riled up?  “You know the rules, Danny.  No touching anything while I’m gone.”  He watched the teen toss his ragged backpack into the corner and then slink over to the chair.  “Here’s a pass to class – just fill in the time when you’re ready to go, and make sure you come see me after school.”

Danny waved his hand back and forth, then nodded.  Lancer studied him for a second longer, then grabbed his paperwork and stuffed it into his satchel.  Leaving the boy slumped in the chair, slowly tossing a stress ball from hand to hand, Lancer trooped out of his office and towards his first period class.

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Friendship (SyndiSparklez One Shot)

Summary: Tom and Jordan are the alienated children in their fifth grade class, Tom being the ruffian/bad boy in the class while Jordan is the quiet, reserved kid that focuses mostly on doing well in everything he does. One day, Tom see’s Jordan being picked on by some other kids and decides to step in, saving him. Little does Tom know that he has started a life long friendship that later changes both their lives for the better.

Warnings: slight mention of blood, but otherwise nothing.

A/N: Slightly different prompt from the original that I thought of and wanted to write up. I apologize for lack of stories lately, I’ve found myself increasingly busy since I got out of school and haven’t had much time to even do anything other than sleep and eat ;A; But I digress. Hope everyone has a wonderful last week of school or summer if you’re finished with school! Anyways, enjoy my lovelies!!

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#15 part 3 Newt high school AU: So Soon...?

So soon…? Part three

Requested: anon

Prompt: ((part 3 to previous imagine))

A/N: I hope this suffices my loves! Also, I’ve done a POV from Teresa…All will be revealed :)



The spring breeze brushes through my hair as I walk down the lane. It’s Monday, marking two weeks since mine and Newt’s breakup. Yes, what I saw yesterday upset me somewhat, but if he’s moving on then so am I. Well, he hasn’t had to move on I guess. He cheated. However, I can’t honestly say that I don’t miss him just a little. That I don’t miss his arms around me, his smile and his laugh. Blocking his number could never change anything, I knew that. But these feelings will fade eventually, I think.

It’s kind of a relief that I live only a couple streets away from school, because I don’t have to worry as much about rushing in the mornings. Like now, I can simply walk to school without a care in the world. It’s one of my favourite parts of the day because it’s so peaceful outside. Plus, the weathers warming up in the spring time.

Cherry blossom trees are blooming and the gentle breeze is making the petals fall. These particular trees have a special meaning to me that I don’t really like admitting. Plus, they’re beautiful. The path ahead of me looks like a scene from a movie and I swear that I’ve never been so relaxed.

Once I unwillingly reach school, I spot Teresa and Brenda over by my locker. It’s where we always meet in the mornings before first lesson. They spot me approaching and a surprised look emerges on each of their faces.

“Hey…(y/n)?” Brenda stops and eyes me up and down. Teresa copies this action and widens her eyes slightly. For the first time in two weeks, I am wearing one of my traditional pairs of shorts, a t-shirt and a flannel shirt with my converse. It’s always been a look which I’ve stuck to as a more of a comfort than a fashion statement. It was always one of Newt’s favourites too…

But, it’s a normal outfit for me compared to the sweats and big hoodies which haven’t left my body for the past two weeks. And like I said, I’ve moved on from him.

“You’re…well, don’t take this as an offence or anything but…you’re actually dressed in normal clothes?” Teresa murmurs, snapping me out of my daydream.

I chuckle and budge past them both to open my locker. “Well, it’s been two weeks and I’m not just going to stand around and wait for my life to get back together. It’s time to move on.” I say smiling, gathering my books and looping my bag back over my shoulders.

My friends seem genuinely pleased and almost relieved once I say this. They both grin in unison.

“That’s great! It’s nice to see you with CLEAN hair, too!” Teresa answers jokingly, squeezing my upper arm as a sign of affection.

“That is really great, (y/n)! We weren’t sure how long it’d take you!” Brenda laughs. “C'mon then, we have first period soon.”

My friends and I begin to traipse towards our separate first lessons, mine being English. It’s a subject that I’ve always liked and it’s a class that I’m in with Brenda. Teresa has math and she hates to say that it’s with Newt.

“I won’t speak to him! I promise!” She rambles, nodding her head furiously.

“Teresa, it’s fine. Honestly.” I respond. “He didn’t cheat on you, did he?”

“No, but he cheated on one of my best friends and therefore I’m angry with him too.” She says stubbornly.

“Please, Teresa. I don’t want him to think that I’m mourning over him.” I say in monotone, trying to hide that this statement may not be the full truth.

Instead of responding verbally, Teresa shrugs and waves goodbye to Brenda and I as we’ve reached our classroom. And it doesn’t take long for the rest of the pupils to show up either. Eventually, we are seated.

The lesson doesn’t drag on too long as we are completing a creative writing assignment which I really enjoyed. Plus, the guy who I usually sit by isn’t in today, so I got the table to myself. Also, I’m right by a big window, which means that I can see cherry blossom trees again. They’ve got a quality about them that can just instantly put me at ease, no matter what the circumstance may be.


I’m halfway though math and it’s safe to say that I’m one trigonometry question away from falling asleep. It’s hard enough having to write down problems that I can’t fathom into any sense without little paper balls being thrown at me from the row behind. It’s not like I don’t know who they’re coming from, but I’m not talking to them. They’ve done wrong.

“Teresa PLEASE!” The thick British accent whispers in an irritated tone.

Spinning around in my chair, I shoot Newt daggers through my eyes. “WHAT?”

“I need to talk to you. To explain what really happened.” He says, a sadness I’ve never heard in his voice. It sounds like a type of grief that doesn’t and will not fade with time. A sadness that I recognise to be identical to (y/n)’s, even today when she insisted that she is moving on.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” I reply bluntly.

“Teresa please! I didn’t cheat on (y/n)! I was set up!” Newt pleads and suddenly he’s got my attention.

“YOU TWO! NEWTON! TERESA! BACK TO WORK!” Our math teacher yells, slamming his pen onto his desk.

I oblige and turn back around, finishing another dreadful problem. It doesn’t take longer than five minutes for me to receive another tap on the back. But this time, the paper has writing on it.

“Open it.” Newt whispers from behind me.

“This had better be good or I swear to god I’ll slap you myself.” I grunt, unfolding the paper.

And I’ll tell you now, what I read sends waves of relief, reassurance and excitement through me. Excitement, because I want to know what he’s going to do next.

At last, the bell signals and we’re allowed to leave. Newt and I both have a free period next and so does (y/n).

“I’ve got an idea that may just help you out.” I tell Newt, stepping into stride with him.

“So you believe me? You understand that it was all a set up from Sonya?” Newt responds, a sudden light in his voice.

“Yeah. Sonya’s always had her eye on you and I guess she saw her chance and took it with both hands.”
I say, shaking my head just at the thought of her. She’s always going after other peoples boyfriends and it was only a matter of time before she tried to separate (y/n) and Newt. If I’m honest, I saw it coming a while back.

“So, what’s your plan?” Newt asks.



Unfortunately, the bell clangs which means that Brenda and I have a free period, along with Teresa. Usually, us three will spend it in the library with Minho, Thomas and Newt as we all have a fee period together today. Last week, I wasn’t even in school because I was that upset. This week though, I’m not too sure how I’m going to get past the awkwardness of Newt being there. I can’t deny that I miss him, but I’ve not done wrong here. He has, so he should be the one feeling awkward. Not me.

“So how d'ya think you did on that creative writing task?” Brenda asks me as we start strolling towards the library.

“Not too bad, I don’t think!” I smile, adjusting my bag on my shoulders. “I wrote about blossom trees…”

“(y/n).” Brenda says sharply. “That’s NOT going to help you move on from N-”

“It’s fine, okay?” I convey. “Just because I like cherry blossom trees because of HIM doesn’t mean that I can’t move on!”

Brenda sighs and shakes her head in an almost sympathetic manor. “Whatever you say.” She finishes before we fall into a peaceful silence.

Brenda are another couple minutes walk away from the library when my phone chimes in my pocket, as does hers.

It’s a message from Teresa: ‘hey, change of plan. Meet me in study room seven.’

“Hey did you get a message from Teresa?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.

“U-uh y-yeah.” Brenda stutters, shifting in her feet. Something’s up.

“What?” I ask.


“No, really, what’s up?”

“Nothing! I promise!” Brenda says before blinking a couple of times, as if to try and hide the look of guilt in her eyes.

“Alright…shall we go then?” I say slowly, beginning to turn on my heels.

“Y-yeah. I’ll m-meet you there. I just need the toilet!” Brenda says before hurrying off into the girls bathroom jugs down the hall.

As strange as that was, I decide not to let it bother me and I continue heading to study room seven. Our school has empty classrooms that you can reserve when you’ve got a free period. I guess Teresa has reserved us one for today. When I arrive, the rooms empty, so I just sit down on a desk top and fish a notebook out of my bag. I’ve never been one for chairs. It’s very quiet on my own, but I’m guessing Teresa must be on her way with Brenda.

Suddenly, a tall blonde boy is shoved into the classroom and the door slams and locks behind him. It doesn’t take more than a second to recognise the matted hair and brown eyes.


“Please, love-”

“I AM NOT YOU’RE LOVE!” I scream, curling up on the desktop. Not in fear, but in pain. Emotional pain can always top physical pain, depending on its level.

“At least let me explain what happened!” Newt begs, leaning against the wall by the door, only a few metres from my desk.

“I know what happened, Newt!” I sigh, refusing to look at him.

“But not the full story…” He trails off.

Huffing under my breath, I check the clock on the wall and see that we’ve literally got ages. “You have five minutes, then I’m going back to my friends.” I grunt.

I can sense the relief in Newts sigh as he begins to speak.

“My chemistry teacher asked me to tutor Sonya as she was failing the class-”

“And you hooked up, lovely story.” I hiss.

“No. No we didn’t.” Newt says and I almost believe him. Almost. “No, I tutored her after school in the library twice and the I told her that we’re done and she’s caught up on recent topics.”

Taking the first part of Newt’s speech in, I nod, but keep my eyes to the ground.

“I was going to tell you on that night that we separated.” Newt goes on. “But Sonya called my phone.”

I wince at the sound of her name and by the tone in Newt’s voice, he doesn’t seem too happy about it either.

“I have no idea what she was originally calling for, but she decided to stir things up a little. In other words, she lied through her teeth and split us up through some spiteful jealousy.”

We both go silent for a moment before I ask a question.

“What about yesterday at the mall?” I croak.

“She followed me to the hotdog queue and when she saw you, she thought that she’d have a go at making my life worse and taking away the most important thing in it.” Newt whispers. “I swear we never did anything, but even so, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

It’s a lot to take in and I feel like I’m going to cry. Not from sadness nor happiness. More from relief and tiredness. I haven’t had a good nights sleep since we split.

“So…that’s it?” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“That’s it.” Newt says. “Can you forgive me?”

He takes a small step towards me and I remain with my head down.

“Please?” He asks, another step closer. There’s only a metre or so more between us.


And that’s all it takes for my head to finally snap up and meet his deep brown eyes. I can tell that he’s nervous, even here and now. Can’t blame him really.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I demand, trying to figure out how I feel. Well, except the extreme adoration for the boy.

“I would’ve and I’ve been trying, but you’ve blocked my number and have managed to avoid me since.”

“Oh…” I mumble, keeping eye contact with Newt. To be honest, I never want to break it again.

“Love?” He murmurs.


“Can I hold your hand?” I look back up at Newt and see that he’s eyeing me with hope. A hope that sets a fire off inside.

Instead of replying verbally, I take his had and rub my thumb over his fingers. Silence and tension thickens the air between us. Newt steps so that he’s standing right in front of me.

At last, I pluck up the courage to speak to Newt.

“I’ve really missed you.”

A smile tugs at Newt’s lips and I regain the feeling that I first experienced when I was falling for him. Adoration and young love. The feeling that this could really be something.

“I’ve missed you more.” He hushes and at last, pulls me into his arms. I’m sitting on the desk so I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Newt strokes my back and places a small kiss on my forehead. This is it. This is what it feels like to feel safe again.

Newt speaks again. “Teresa and Brenda locked us in here.”

“I knew Brenda was hiding something.” I chuckle, remembering how strange she’d acted earlier.

We stay like this for a little while longer, just enjoying one another. I’m glad to say that Newt still smells like Newt, with his musky outdoor scent that he’s had from the day that I met him. That day with the blossom trees. That reminds me…

“I wrote about the cherry blossom trees from when we first met that spring.” I say quietly into Newt’s shoulder. “For my creative writing project.

Newt laughs lightly and I can feel his hot breath on my neck. "I remember that…we were walking home right?”

“Yeah.” I smile.

More silence. More tension. I’m finding it hard not to do something stupid. I’ve been longing for Newt for two whole weeks and right now, with his floppy hair and smile playing at his lips, it’s not helping.

“I never want to see you hurt like this again. Weather it’s because of me or another person. It’s killed me seeing you sad.” Newt says into my neck, sending vibrations down my spine. “I never want to spend another day without you.” And something tells me that he really means it. About me not hurting and that he doesn’t want to be without me. I can hear the strain in his voice and I have to give into my desires.

“Newt?” I ask in a low whisper.

“Yes, love?”

“Can I kiss you?”

And this time, Newt doesn’t respond and instead, he moves his head from my neck and kisses me softly. Newt cups my cheeks and I play with his hair. At last, the on going agony surging through me diminishes as his lips meet mine. The room around me melts away and in this moment I realise how much I’ve missed him.

“I bloody love you, (y/n).” Newt mumbles, tugging on my lip into the kiss.

“I love you Newt.” I respond, working my hands through his hair and wrapping my legs tighter around his waist.

We kiss and cuddle and laugh until the very next period and I can honestly it feels like I’ve come home.


A/N: so that’s that! That’s a wrap as they say!! :)
THANK YOU WHOEVER MAY HAPPEN TO BE READING THIS!! Thank you so much for reading my imagine! I hope you enjoyed it! Just so you’re all aware, every lovely message, like and reblog means the absolute world to me.
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