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itskattkm · 4 months

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The air in my lungs

Chapter 3

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, Grief, Injuries, Scars, Car accident, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: Based and inspired by Millers Girl. Mr. Miller himself isn’t really present but will be mentioned. Hope you guys enjoy.

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Cairo didn’t saw you for the rest of the day. When she was home in her big mansion near the woods. Surrounded by big trees and nature it self she was getting crazy with herself. Her thoughts kept running back to you. Everytime Cairo tried to write, she ended up writing about you. The way you looked, the way you made her feel, the way she wanted to be touched by you, the way she wanted to touch you and fix you. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest when she imagined what It would feel like to be touched by you. The way you moved her cigarette so smoothly between you fingers. Fingers she wanted to feel on her skin, feel on places she never really cared about before. She began to hear her own heartbeat. Getting lost in the idea of you touching her in those almost unholy places. Feeling you taking off her laced slip slowly just to tease her. Your lips touching her neck making her gasp for air she almost forgot how to breathe.

Suddenly there was a ring. “Winnie” sighed Cairo when she was brought back by her friend from her daydream. Cairo made immediately her way down to the entry. It was already pretty late when Winnie decided to come over, you expected her after school but Winnie seemed to have different plans. Anyways she was here now and both of them were lying on Cairos big bed, smoking together while checking your social media accounts.

They wanted to see if they could find the reason why you changed over the summer and why you were acting so strange towards Cairo today. Winnie was really good at stalking, so she was basically guiding Cairo towards what she should be looking for. Cairo couldn’t wait to find out what y/n was hiding and why, as long as she was okay of course. They both knew that y/n was someone who kept things pretty private. She liked keeping things for herself and used to like staying in the shadows. That’s what made her so interesting to Cairo. It was like y/n had diffrent personalities.

“So… as the pro I am. I found out why y/n turned hot… bold… and acted so weird today and why she got that scars on her back” said Winnie with a devilish smile.

“Why? Please tell me, Winnie.” Cairo said, trying to stay optimistic. She was already so curious about the scars you had, and wanted to know why you acted so different that day. She really hoped you didn’t get hurt or anything but let’s be honest… when someone had scars it meant that they had been hurted so... Cairo just wanted you to be okay, first and foremost. But she also wanted to know the reason for your sudden change today.

“As I assumed something happened at the end of spring…She was in a pretty bad car accident with her family. Her mom died and y/n barely survived. Her dad’s still alive but… well… I mean they still are grieving”

Winnie showed Cairo then pictures of the accident. It was pictures of a car in the middle of a river. When they managed to get the car out Cairo could she how destroyed the front was. It was a wonder that her dad managed to survive thought Cairo.

Winnie kept telling the story “Seemed like it was also in the news. Some drunk asshole was driving on the other side of the road. Her father tried to avoid the car but they crashed through the bridge and fell down into the river.” Cairo was stunned to hear that. She couldn’t believe what Winnie had just said. Your story suddenly seemed a bit harder to talk about then she could have imagined. Cairo was hurt about what she had heard, but still wanted to know more. “And what about the scars?” Cairo asked, her tone suddenly sounding more serious, but she didn’t know if that was because she was shocked or because she was hurting on your behalf.

“Oh wait… I wasn’t right. While her dad tried to avoid the other car… the car immediately crashed into the side she and her mom had been sitting in. The car turned and then they crashed through the bridge and fell into the river… trapped in the car under the water” said Winnie while checking some old news reports online.

Then it hit Cairo like a truck and she said quite “I guess that’s why she panicked in swim class. It was because of the incident Winnie”.

“Fuck…” Cairo muttered in shock. She had no idea you had gone through something so horrible. Her heart dropped again. She couldn’t believe what she heard. And it made more sense now that you were so cold towards her today. You just wanted to forget what happened during swimming class. Now your scars made more sense to Cairo. You had been through a tragic event… you needed some time. Cairo felt a little bad, as she couldn’t help to want to approach you about her feelings for you. But she knew she couldn’t just ignore something like this. This wasn’t just a flirt… you were human. You were hurt pretty bad. This was pretty bad.

“Not many people know about it. But her close friends said she changed much after the accident. I mean if I had almost died? I would also care less about people thoughts and be bolder… enjoy life…” said Winnie and sighed. “I guess that’s what she’s doing. She’s trying to live the life she didn’t had for so many years. And I guess the trauma of the accident also made her care less about some things…” Cairo said, a bit sad that you might have changed because of the accident. “But I think I’m also glad she’s alive. And I’m happy that the way she acted today hasn’t been my fault. The accident kinda explains it all… It makes me feel a bit better as well.”

Winnie grinned wide “So don’t worry about her being so mean to you. It was a bad timing… I’m sure tomorrow you both will go back to the hot flirting and soon you’ll have her tongue between your legs.”

Cairo gasped and punched Winnie with a pillow but she had to admit that this made her sweat for a sec. Winnie laughed and Cairo smiled at her a bit. It had all made sense now, and she was also glad that Winnie was reassuring her that it wasn’t her fault. You had just been through a lot. Nothing was about Cairo, and you just needed space today. “Thanks Winnie. I feel a lot better now. I should still try not to do anything that might make things more difficult, but it’s a huge relief that y/n is just handling the accident badly.”

“What did the scars look like? Did they make her even hotter? Like a bad ass villain?” asked Winnie curious and laid down on her stomach while watching Cairo. “You think scars make her EVEN hotter?” Cairo asked, smiling at Winnie. Winnie was so funny and playful. And she didn’t mind her questions at all, that’s just how she was. “I honestly think the scars make her look badass, that’s for sure.” Cairo replied, thinking about how tough you must be to have scars from an accident like that. And to be so young at the same time. “But the hotness has gotta be her confidence, her eyes, her lips. Just everything really.”

Winnie grinned wider and nudged Cairo slightly “oh you got that shine in your eyes… I can see the things on your mind… it’s making me pretty hot I can tell” she sighed and moved closer to Cairo and looked at her with serious eyes “Damn girl you need to get that girl in bed and tell me everything afterwards… Just imagine scratching her back with those scars” she said and almost whined while saying this, wich made Cairo blush pretty hard. “Don’t tempt me…” Cairo said, jokingly. She couldn’t hide her attraction to you. And she wasn’t sure y/n didn’t feel anything for her either. At times it felt like she did. But other times she was distant. “When it comes to this girl, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist any longer.” Cairo sighed, thinking about you. You looked so good today, and the scars just added to that the more she thought about it. She felt a hard pulsing between her legs and sighed quietly, thinking about how she would kiss every scar on your body while adding a few more with her nails while you would give her the best pleasure she could ever imagine.

“Good” said Winnie proud… “my bestie is learning from me”

“You know…” Cairo said, looking towards Winnie.” Y/n is such an attractive girl, and I think I will talk to her later.” She paused. “When I do, I think I’ll make a move on her.” Winnie looked both shocked and excited, her eyes opening wide when she heard Cairo’s confession.

“Later? Like? In the middle of the night? Today? No… after that awful day for her better not. Depends… how did you planned to approach her?” She asked and looked at Cairo with a tilted head.

“Well, maybe tomorrow then. But yes, I’ll make a move on her.” Cairo said, staring right back at Winnie as she spoke. She had thought about what she was going to say to you. And she knew exactly how she was going to act. “As for how?” She paused for a moment. “I guess I’ll just be myself. Y/n seems to like that.” She smiled a bit over at Winnie. Winnie giggled and whispered into Cairos ear “Keep doing that smoking thing… I think that’s your and y/n thing now… and maybe you can use that. To get close… and turn the tables and surprise her. Don’t let her win that easy” said Winnie while looking devilish at Cairo.

“Yeah, it probably is our thing now. Maybe I should use it to get close to y/n.” Cairo said excitedly. She was really starting to make a plan now. She wanted to get to you and make a move on you. She was so attracted to you, and really wanted to be with you. “But you mean surprise her in what way?” She asked, slightly confused. “You mean surprising her by making a move on her without her expecting it?” She asked, almost smiling. “By kissing her out of nowhere like she did with you?! God when you told me that story I was getting so turned on. You were so mean to her and what did she do?

Steal your cigarette took a puff, destroyed it, grabbed your chin and kissed you hard to release the smoke in your mouth and saying

Stop Smoking around me? Ugh… hot!” sighed Winnie and looked dreamy at the ceiling “I would have probably took of my slip immediately and said ‘take me’” said Winnie half joking cause Cairo knew Winnie would do such things.

“Yeah I could do that.” Cairo nodded. She thought about exactly how y/n had surprised her before. And it was so unexpected, but so so hot. “But I also want to make a move like that in a more romantic way. One that she can’t resist, like she did with me.” She paused. “I still want to surprise her, but at the same time make her feel like she can’t say no.”

“That wasn’t romantic my dear friend… that was seducing…” explained Winnie and rolled her eyes at Cairos innocent hint. She may was a pro in writing the baddest smut ever but y/n was making Cairo really go so weak. Cairo smirked. “Is there a difference?” She asked, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. “Because to me, that was romantic. I was so surprised, but I felt so warm when y/n kissed me.” Maybe Winnie was right, but Cairo wanted to believe that you just liked her, or just liked to act that way to mess with her. Or maybe you liked Cairo just for her body. She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. “Depends” said Winnie with a dirty grin “Did you feel hot between your legs or in your chest?”.

“Both. But honestly, my whole body just felt good. It was the whole feeling.” Cairo replied, not knowing what to believe anymore. “I don’t know if I can distinguish between romantic and seducing. They felt the same to me. But maybe I can, since you’re probably right. Y/n was just flirting, and not acting romantic.” That was at least what she wanted to believe, or she would have to be completely honest with herself and realize that she liked you for more than just your looks or your body. And she wasn’t ready for that.

“Just go for it and have your fun Cairo” said Winnie. “I will.” Cairo said, smiling at Winnie. “You know, I feel like y/n is going to turn me down. But it’s like there’s this part of me telling me to go for it anyway. As if something tells me that y/n won’t be able to say no. As if she would accept… Maybe I could use the cigarette thing to seduce her. Or like… I don’t know. I guess I know what to do.” Cairo felt like she had suddenly found out exactly how she wanted to go about this.

“We both know you have the power to seduce and that even through writing. You also ‘accidentally’ seduced our old teacher with your story’s. If I need to remeber you of that. You can have everyone you want Cairo” said Winnie with a luring voice. Cairo smiled at Winnie. “True. Writing is my thing. And I guess seducing is too…” she mumbled. “But is y/n seducible?” She asked, suddenly feeling unsure again. What if y/n wasn’t seducible at all. Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted. “Or is it just that y/n thinks I’m someone who can’t go after her?” Cairo wondered. Y/n was so hard to read it was hard to say what she wanted. But she hoped that she wanted her…

“In my opinion, After knowing her backstory now. She deserves to be seduced and get a good fuck” said Winnie like it was nothing.

Cairo nodded slowly. She looked over at Winnie and smiled. “Then I guess I’ll go for it.” She said, determined to win over y/n. She just hoped her plan would work. And that y/n was seducible. She was scared about the rejection she could get, and scared to find out your feelings. But it was the only way to find out. And she wanted to know what you really thought.

Cairo sighed. She couldn’t believe she was breaking her mind about someone for so long. That wasn’t her at all. You did something to her and Cairo wasn’t sure if she liked it.

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silantryoo · 4 months

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BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — the last great american dynasty, pt 2.

jang wonyoung, throughout the years.

WARNINGS ; misogyny, toxic household, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, absent parents, mentions of affair families, hints of eating disorders, overworking, health issues, implied depression, imposter syndrome (7.2k)

hannah was just a name.

it was a combination of letters that the high schooler couldn't bear herself to recognize. she willed herself to read it as presented in front of her, but wonyoung had always been good at reading between the lines.

still, it didn't matter.

the name held good memories, ones that the young heiress should've treasured. the lullabies and stories that she cherished, the warmth and protection she had been engulfed in, all of it was gone.

good memories were for good people, perfect people. they were for people who kept their promises.

yoo jimin probably had good memories, ones that she didn't feel guilty about.

it helped that her half-sister stayed in the previously occupied room. it gave more of a reason to steer away from hyunseo's vicinity, despite wonyoung's desire to see the familiar layout.

wonyoung knew it would only anger her.

she had peaked into the youngest's room, the door ajar as western music blasted through the crevice. wonyoung had already been upset that day, her mother and father arguing about wonyoung's desire to join her high school's volleyball team. she needed to calm herself, to gather her thoughts and study, but hyunseo was making it difficult, blasting noise through the vents.

the wallpaper was different.

she was disappearing, just like wonyoung wanted.

(it hurt, more than it should've.)

it didn't matter. the young high school student had no time for grieving over her incompetence. her schedule had been filled to the brim with studies and practice since she had officially entered high school. wonyoung had little time on her hands, bouncing between studying and practicing in her free time.

it was a consequence of becoming perfect.

(wonyoung wondered how many consequences she could endure.)

the day after wonyoung had finished the final tryout, she had looked at the board, the official team roster was finally up.

her name was there, the very bottom written hastily as if a second thought. for once, wonyoung was glad to be last. she was glad to be there at all.

the young jang went home, eager to tell someone, anyone about her achievements. her mother and father, as usual, were nowhere to be found, but out of habit, she found herself rushing to her room.

oh.

the wallpaper was different.

hyunseo looked at her, eyes the same as their father's. before the youngest could speak, wonyoung rushed out.

hannah was just a name. she wasn't anyone.

wonyoung wished she wasn't just a name.

wonyoung had never played in a game before.

she had watched many on the tv in her room, juggling her studies and taking notes on all the events and mistakes that happened each minute.

she wanted to be on that screen one day, not as the leader or the libero, but as the ace, the outside hitter who scored all the points, who always seemed to play the perfect game despite not being so.

yoo jimin was an outside hitter, one who had a perfect family.

perfect.

"i have my first game next week." wonyoung looked at her food, hyunseo's head turning to her at her words.

her mother rolled her eyes.

"you got in?" wonyoung had gotten in a month ago. her father should've known that if he paid attention. "that's surprising."

she bit her tongue back, hyunseo's eyes glued onto her half-sister in awe. wonyoung calmed herself before speaking. she wasn't going to cause a scene, not when her father had just came back from work.

"so," wonyoung already knew the answer. "can you guys come?"

jiyoung and wonseok's eyes met briefly, and anyone who could see knew what they were thinking.

they weren't going.

"we'll see."

the youngest jang was proven right a week later, her teammate's parents crowded in a bunch on the bleacher, cheering on their kids. colored banners filled the area, and different players' names were displayed except hers.

disappointment settled in her chest, but not surprise.

she looked once more, scanning the crowd, a false hope still bubbling in her chest.

it was baby blue.

'go wonyoung-unnie!'

wonyoung frowned.

she asked for her parents. she asked for her family. she didn't ask for the affair child of her father to come, much less live under the same roof as her. wonyoung couldn't fathom the thoughts that were going through hyunseo's mind.

it was an insult to her, to the jang's. how dare she come to her game? she had no right.

hyunseo wasn't a jang. she would never be.

they had lost that day, wonyoung too angry to focus on what was in front of her. all she could see was the blue on the sidelines and red all around.

wonyoung didn't speak to hyunseo for the rest of that month.

time kept moving, but all the young jang could ever want was for it to stop.

her first season had ended two weeks prior, her official school training finally slowing down. there were no more long days spent in the gym, or sore shoulders and legs from overworking. instead, they had been replaced with gruesome hours at cram school, and an aching wrist from writing for hours nonstop.

the end of the semester was near, and wonyoung had noticed a slight drop in her grade.

she had to do well on her final.

the sun had already set, the heiress stepped inside her residence with a tired haze. friday was always a stressful day for wonyoung, her off-season conditioning and the weekly test at cram school lining up.

she needed food, and then sleep.

wonyoung took off her shoes, listening to the lack of britney spears blasting from upstairs.

her father was home.

"the ahn's told me you did well."

wonyoung jumped as she heard her father speak, his voice loud against the silence of her house.

jang wonseok worked late nights, even now, when his mistress was no longer with him. seeing him home before twelve, completely sober and talking to his eldest child in such a manner was whiplash to the young jang.

she collected herself, clasping her hands in front of her as she bowed politely.

"you watched my finals?" wonyoung bit back a smile, hoping that her true emotions hadn't shined through.

"i was busy." wonseok shook his head. wonyoung looked away. she should've known better. "their daughter watched it with them. why didn't you tell me you were starting?"

the young jang could feel the pride bubbling in her chest, her father's approval filling her with a warmth that she hadn't felt in over a year and a half.

she had worked hard to get where she was, adjusting her schedule to fit more practice and less studying, just enough to maintain her grades but improve significantly. wonyoung's coach had congratulated her progress, rewarding her with her hard-earned spot as the opposite hitter.

she was one step closer to being perfect, just like yoo jimin.

"i did." wonyoung tried her best to sound non-combative. she hated it when her parents twisted her words. "i told mom."

wonseok sighed. leave it up to jiyoung to forget. "your mother never told me anything."

wonseok had never talked to her this long, and the lack of interaction had become evident as the two fell silent, the younger avoiding her father's eyes.

wonyoung internally debated whether she should leave. perhaps her father had gotten tired of her presence. it wouldn't have been the first time, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

"how are your grades?" her father spoke once more, wonyoung's head shooting up at the sound. "are you getting along with hyunseo?"

his words left a bittersweet taste lingering in the air. wonyoung was partially elated, her father suddenly caring about her to this extent. it was what she had always dreamt of, back when she had been a child.

still, hyunseo was still his favorite, no matter how hard wonyoung tried.

"um, my grades are good." wonyoung barely stuttered out her words. "i'm at the top of my grade."

"good." wonseok smiled. "good job, wonyoung."

good job, wonyoung.

wonyoung always wanted to make her dad smile.

it was a name that she had forgotten, just like the shadow that used to linger next to her closet, holding a glass of water as it urged her to come out.

"who's hannah?"

the walls of the jang household seemed to echo it, chills running down the second-year high school student's spine.

"what?"

wonyoung could feel the memories, hazy and distorted, like an old vinyl playing on a forgotten record player. she could feel it, see bits and pieces of everything. she could see her crayons, lying on her bed. a familiar hum seemed to invade her ears, a lullaby.

then there was a casket, and a broken promise.

to love someone is to do the right thing.

wonyoung wasn't good enough to love or be loved.

"who's hannah?" hyunseo repeated her words, and anger flaring up in the young jang. "dad mentioned her, and-"

"he isn't your dad." wonyoung snarled, gripping the counter as her mother sighed from behind her. "you aren't my sister."

"i just heard-"

"then stop hearing." wonyoung had never asked for her in the first place. she didn't want another person ruining her family. "no one asked you to be here anyway."

hyunseo flinched, her head down as she nodded. the heiress watched as her half-sister walked away, most likely to the room that she had stolen.

wonyoung could see her mother shake her head, jiyoung's doe eyes staring at her with disgust. it was nothing new, especially as of late. it didn't bug the young jang anymore. she had gotten used to it.

still, it stung that jiyoung treated hyunseo, the product of her husband's affair, better than her own daughter.

"you need to control your emotions, before you hurt hyunseo." jiyoung's voice was stern, reprimanding. wonyoung almost laughed at how odd it sounded, like a mother scolding her friend's playmate.

hyunseo had everything she didn't.

"it's not your problem, mother."

jiyoung shook her head, and wonyoung hated how eeriely similar she and her mother looked.

"god, you're exactly like your father."

she didn't know why those words hurt more than they should've.

jang wonyoung had known the ahn's from the moment she was born.

her father had many connections being a politician. he had friends from all over the globe, from switzerland to hong kong. it didn't matter what their profession was. as long as it benefited the jang's, wonseok would treat them with the highest respect.

the ahn's were like them, the head of the family owning one of the biggest acting agencies in all of asia. it helped that they had lived in the penthouse two minutes away, and that their youngest daughter was near wonyoung's age.

yujin was a breath of fresh air, and wonyoung was glad to call the older girl her best friend.

the two younger girl's continued their conversation, ahn yeojin, the oldest of the two ahn sisters, keeping a watchful eye on them. she rolled her eyes, sending petty jabs at yujin. her parents had forced her to accompany the two teenagers in case her sister did anything stupid again.

it was a complete waste of her exam break before she had to go back to campus.

(yujin had broken her grandmother's china plates recently, their father cutting both their allowances in retaliation.)

hyunseo walked down, eyes hesitant as she approached wonyoung. the young jang was glad she had gotten the hint to leave her alone, hyunseo clearly avoiding her for what seemed to be weeks. she ignored the gnawing guilt that built up in her chest whenever she looked at her younger half-sister, replacing it with annoyance instead.

still, there were times were hyunseo refused to get a hint.

"unnie," hyunseo's voice was small, just like how the young lee felt. "can you help me with my homework?"

"learn how to do it yourself." wonyoung sighed. "you're a big girl, hyunseo, and i'm not your tutor."

"oh." wonyoung didn't know why it upset her to hear her half-sister's defeated voice. "okay."

wonyoung tried to ignore it, but the guilt seemed to overtake her. she watched as hyunseo walked back upstairs, her glassy eyes glued onto her paper.

english. wonyoung was good at english.

"you should be nicer to your sister." yeojin sighed. she turned to yujin, pinching the younger girl's cheek. "i would kill for yujin to go back to being that sweet and cute."

yujin blushed, her eyes going wide as she stared at wonyoung. she tried to push the older girl off, embarrassed at the thought of the heiress seeing her like this.

"hyunseo isn't my sister." wonyoung muttered, her eyes lingering on the stairs. "she's not a jang."

"you sound like your dad." yujin noted, eyes void of any thought.

yeojin let go of her cheek and smacked her head, the sight of wonyoung frowning enough for her to justify her actions. "ouch! unnie!"

wonyoung should be grateful that she was turning into a jang. it was what she wanted, to be the perfect daughter her dad wanted.

she paused. when did becoming a jang equal perfection?

yeojin sighed, wonyoung's turmoil evident. she looked at her younger sister, shaking her head.

"private school is melting your brain, ahn yujin."

yujin pouted. "i didn't do anything, though!"

"dad?"

jang wonseok was a busy man. wonyoung didn't know if all his flights were work-related, but she knew that all the papers piled on his desk occupied his time. she knew that from a young age, wonseok couldn't find the time in his schedule for her, and she continued to hold that belief.

jang wonseok stood outside her school gymnasium. he watched. he watched her.

wonyoung didn't understand why she wanted to cry, or why there was an odd feeling in her chest, one that she felt a long time ago with a shadow of person.

it felt warm, but it felt misplaced.

"let's go, wonyoung." wonseok's voice was stern, but he still managed to smile at anyone who came near them.

her father was still a politician before a dad, but wonyoung was still glad he decided to be dad today.

"you came to watch."

warmth and love.

it was all wonyoung had ever wanted from her parents. she had tried different ways of getting their attention, of becoming the version of herself that they had always wanted her to be.

even though she had found it in places where she had never expected, in the cracks and crevices of her closet, behind the shadow that casted against her wall, she had always wondered what it would feel like.

it felt wrong. it felt like she was undeserving.

maybe because she was.

silently, she followed her father into the parking lot. the different muted black and bone-white hues reflected from the sun and into her eyes. her father's car stood out like a sore thumb, however. it's clean, sleek finish emphasized the wealth of the jang name, just like all of the things that wonseok owned.

wonyoung could feel her father's temperament rising with each tired step she took. his patience was running thin and it didn't take a mastermind to figure out it was because of her.

she gets in the passenger seat, the slam of the driver's door making her flinch as she closes hers gently.

her father came to watch her, yet there was still a sinking feeling in her stomach, one that felt worse than before.

the car ride was mostly silent, the hum of the engine virtually silent as they drove.

"what was that?"

wonyoung didn't know what he was talking about.

"what?" she hadn't heard her father speak to her in such a tone, not since he found out that she had been playing well. "what was what?"

"that game, wonyoung."

wonyoung had hurt her shoulder during practice. she wasn't sure how it happened so fast, but it left her feeling discomfort every time she winded her arm back.

her coach had instructed her to take it easy for today, and wonyoung agreed. had she known her father would be watching, she wouldn't have.

why did he have to watch today?

"i hurt my shoulder during practice." wonyoung mumbled under her breath, playing with the cinnamoroll pin of her volleyball bag. "i usually play as the opposite hitter but-"

the car jolted, wonseok stepping on the gas, burning the rubber on his tires. his grip on the steering wheel tightened before he lifted his foot off, no longer accelerating.

she hated it when her father was like this. she would rather have her driver pick her up. at least then, she knew she wouldn't crash.

wonyoung wished he never watched her game.

"i'm not paying for you to be mediocre!" his voice was akin to a whisper, yet much deeper, and much angrier. "i'm not sending you to camps or paying for your physical therapy for you to play middle."

"i still played well." wonyoung tried to reason, slightly afraid. "coach said-"

"your coach doesn't pay for you." wonseok never took his eyes off the road, the snarl on his face staying. "i do. you should be doing everything that i say."

she did. she has. had he caught her playing any other day, she would be there, all over the court and in the air, playing with the pride of the jang's on her back.

she had picked '01' out for that reason.

wonyoung wanted to make him proud.

she just wanted to make him realize that today had been a bad day for her.

"dad-"

"what?"

but there was nothing she could do, not when he had decided that she was as useless as she truly was.

wonyoung stayed quiet, no longer finding the energy or worth to reason with her father. it was one of the many things her father had praised her for when she was younger.

her compliance was a gift.

"get your head out of your ass, wonyoung." wonseok muttered. "don't act like that ever again."

wonyoung, as obedient as ever, nodded.

"yes, dad."

she wished that her father stayed a busy man today.

the only person to knock on her door was hann hyunseo.

her father rarely went up to her room, always opting to call her downstairs to scold her or review her game videos. her mother preferred to barge right in, yelling at the top of her lungs about whatever she was particularly upset about that day.

it was one of the only things that hyunseo had done well, at least in wonyoung's eyes.

wonyoung grabbed the door knob, twisting it open to come face to face with her younger half-sister.

in hyunseo's hand, a piping hot of cup noodles steamed, and in the other, wonyoung's favorite water bottle. no one, not even the housekeepers, bothered the heiress during her study sessions. they knew that they wouldn't get a response at the very least, or gettting yelled at by jiyoung if her daughter answered at the very most.

wonyoung would've scolded the young lee instead, if not for her tear striken face.

"hi." hyunseo's voice was soft, trembling.

wonyoung knew that hyunseo was an energetic young kid, albeit too much for her liking. she always walked around with a smile on her face, even when the jang ignored her.

this wasn't like lee hyunseo.

"you haven't eaten all day." wonyoung didn't know why she felt so guilty. "i made you some food."

she hated hyunseo for many things.

she hated how hyunseo had erased her, even though the young jang had wished to. her shrill, excited voice annoyed her, especially when her mother seemed to be too fond of someone who wasn't hers biologically. she seemed popular at her school, friends hovering all around her with a smile.

hyunseo was too much. too loud, too annoying, too happy.

she was too much like wonyoung, or at least everything she wanted to be at that age.

"are you crying?" wonyoung asked, her voice almost comforting.

tears fell faster down the lee's face. hyunseo had always wished for her older sister to speak to her like that.

"oh, i didn't notice." hyunseo muttered. "don't worry. i just get sad sometimes."

wonyoung got sad sometimes, too. especially when...

oh.

"did dad yell at you?"

hyunseo hesitated before shaking her head, and it was all wonyoung needed to know.

"it's okay." hyunseo handed wonyoung her food and her water. the older girl couldn't help but stare. "i'm gonna go to my room now."

to love someone was to do the right thing.

when was the last time wonyoung had loved someone?

wonyoung hated meetings.

her father seemed to love them, yet she didn't. she hated the way each season started with a mandatory get-together, discussing away games, team trips, and fundraisers. it all seemed like a headache, organizing and planning. she would hate to be left with a task as such.

she could only shiver at the thought.

still, wonseok always got what he wanted, whether it be women or money. the beginning of the season allowed for him to 'suggest' the head coach to put in a good word for wonyoung to recruiters. although it was never needed, wonseok couldn't help but want a little cushion, just in case.

"we're gonna be late." he looked at his watch, handcrafted in spain.

"dad, it's just a meeting." wonyoung wished for hyunseo to talk longer, hoping that her father would just get frustrated altogether and not go. "you know that coach won't care."

"i care." wonseok was getting tired of the youngest at this point. making him wait for three minutes had already pushed his limits further than it should've. "hyunseo! hurry up!"

wonyoung winced, knowing exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his screaming.

she felt horrible, like she was watching her four-year-old self get yelled at in the third person.

"dad, it's fine." wonyoung would've grabbed his arm, if she weren't so afraid of him. "it's only ten minutes away. we still have tim-"

"lee hyunseo!" his voice cut through the air in a way wonyoung had never heard in her life. instinctively, she took a step back. "do you want me to go up there and force you down here?"

jiyoung and wonyoung frowned at the thought of the man dragging the young lee down. it took everything in the younger jang to stay quiet, knowing that if she spoke, he would only get angrier.

jiyoung didn't care. that was sister's blood, regardless of origin.

"wonseok."

"shut it, jiyoung." wonseok's voice was raspy from his shouting. "i can't have that child ruin the reputation that me and wonyoung have built."

wonyoung bit the side of her cheek. if anything, he was ruining the reputation she built. wonseok's instant donations had spread rumors throughout multiple schools, and regardless of truth (which they weren't), wonyoung had to face the blow.

thank god for uchinaga aeri.

"she's a child." jiyoung tried to explain.

envy coursed through the young jang's veins. hyunseo was lucky to have jiyoung on her side. wonyoung would die for her mother to defend her, especially against wonseok.

she was a child, too. why didn't her mother care for her?

"she's grown enough to know that the world doesn't revolve around people like her." wonyoung was a hypocrite, just like her mother and her father. "lee hyunseo! last warning!"

wonyoung couldn't do this anymore. she could let a kid relive everything that she tried so hard to escape from.

hyunseo wasn't wonyoung, and wonyoung needed to see that.

"i'll go get her, dad." wonyoung smiled kindly, the facade threatening to fall with a single accusation.

she waited for her father to allow her, and with a simple nod, wonyoung rushed upstairs.

she hadn't been to han - no, hyunseo's room before. she had peaked inside multiple times, the old, grey wallpaper replaced with a soft pink that complimented the younger girl's personality.

the door was still the same though, and it reminded wonyoung that not all things change.

wonyoung felt a wave of deja vu as she knocked on the mahogany, the solid thud with each hit. her shadow bounced off the ground, and wonyoung wondered if hyunseo could tell who was there from it.

it was silent.

"hyunseo?" hyunseo heard the shadow speak. "can i come in?"

wonyoung could hear the faint footsteps approaching the hardwood door. her younger sister's tear-stained cheeks peaked through as hyunseo let her inside.

wonyoung closed the door behind her, knowing her father and mother would do their best to listen despite the soundproof walls.

everything felt familiar.

the air conditioning blasted from across the room, whirling out puffs of cool air that made wonyoung shiver. she could see the vanity, still in decent condition, just like how it was left before. the back of the door had an empty space between two of its hooks when a young jang wonyoung had decided to hang a chair off it.

the memories came flooding back, but jang wonyoung didn't deserve any of it.

but wonyoung couldn't dwell on it. lee hyunseo needed her older sister more.

"why are you crying?"

wonyoung could list multiple reasons off the back of her hand, many of it her doing.

she felt horrible. she could've stopped this.

hyunseo rubbed her eyes as if she were tired. "i can't find my brush."

although a brush was an odd thing to break down about, wonyoung couldn't help but brush it off. she had her fair share of meltdowns as well, one of which was a missing throw pillow in her closet.

"do you want me to look for it?" wonyoung's voice radiated a warmth that hyunseo had never felt from her.

without thinking, the younger girl threw her arms around her sister, wonyoung holding her in place. she was confused, even more so when the younger began to sob.

"hyunseo?"

it was heartbreaking to hear a child as bright as hyunseo cry. wonyoung didn't know how her parents managed to listen.

"i can't find my brush..." hyunseo could feel wonyoung embrace her back, and she felt as if she finally had someone on her side. "i miss when my mom. i miss my friends from my old school. i miss when dad was nice to me."

wonyoung didn't know why she felt as if hyunseo would shatter if she released her hold, or why it sounded like a six-year-old version of her, begging her dad to stay for her birthday.

"i wish i was you, unnie." wonyoung could feel the tears staining her shirt, and the shock running through her body. "you never mess up. you're always so pretty and smart. you never say the wrong thing. everyone loves you."

each sentence seemed to amount to the lie that was jang wonyoung. everything, every word that had come out of her younger sister's mouth, was all carefully curated by her in fear.

wonyoung was terrified that people would see through her, that they would see an imperfect, horrible monster. the one that resembled her father in namesake and in emotion.

wonyoung had even managed to fool hyunseo, but the eldest could never fool herself.

"you're perfect."

jang wonyoung was a useless, stupid crybaby. she was a coward who hid behind walls, who didn't deserve the love and praise that came to her.

jang wonyoung was jang wonyoung, and she feared that it would never change.

""i'm sorry, hyunseo." the younger girl cried as wonyoung tried her hardest not to. she was fooling everyone but herself. "unnie's here now. don't cry, okay?"

hyunseo's sobs eventually faded seconds later, her face flushed in embarrassment and exhaustion. wonyoung could tell that the younger girl had been needing her by her side, and all this time, she had done nothing out of pure selfishness.

"feel better?"

hyunseo nodded, her hair still messy. the eldest could only laugh at her sister.

"let's go find your brush."

hyunseo nodded, her head low as she watched wonyoung's shadow bounce off the hardwood floor.

wonyoung getting scouted to her dream school was basically a fantasy.

both her parents hailed from different SKYS. her father, like the typical jang he was, was an alumni of seoul national university. her mother, on the other hand, was from yonsei university.

she knew that her father wanted her to follow in his footsteps. wonseok had made it clear that if wonyoung were to continue volleyball, it would need to be at snu, where she would major in political science, just like him.

but, like yoo jimin, she wanted to go to seoul's university of multi-arts.

her father didn't need to know that she had a one-on-one meeting with the coach today. it wasn't like she could accept their offer without discussing with her father first.

but then there was her mother.

"i need to go, mom."

wonyoung had dressed for the weather. her light jacket, engraved with the letters of her high school, lay neatly on her figure. it wasn't one to keep her insulated, but with every word her mother spoke, it seemed more and more the case.

jiyoung was against wonyoung playing volleyball as a whole. she had heard from aeri that her mother would go on rants, demonizing the sport as if it was the reason for her daughter's shortcomings.

the reason for her daughter's shortcomings was many things, including her mother, but it was never volleyball.

still, jiyoung was sure wonyoung was going to get nowhere in life.

"you need to pass your csat." jiyoung had said those words before, like a mantra. "volleyball isn't going to get you there."

wonyoung could only scoff. being the top student at her school should've been more than enough, especially since wonyoung was also in the top ten players for volleyball.

she was eighth, right above a girl named shin yuna, whoever she was.

"i'm already going to pass." wonyoung muttered, putting on her shoes hastily. "i've been studying myself to sleep for the past month."

wonyoung remembered many mornings where she would wake up at her desk, her face pressed against her textbook.

"that's not enough for someone like you."

wonyoung blinked.

"someone... like me?"

wonyoung knew she was stupid. she knew that there was nothing inside her head aside from volleyball and textbooks, and that she always had to try twice as hard to be at the same level as everyone else.

she knew that she was worth practically nothing, but she was growing tired of her parents repeating it over and over again.

wonyoung didn't need a reminder.

"you need to study harder and stop trying to be something you're not."

wonyoung hated how her mother saw right through her, just like how she hated her mother for never loving her.

she hated how she could never love herself because of it.

"is that why you married dad?" wonyoung's voice sounded unfamiliar to her, as if it wasn't her own. "is that why you let yourself get cheated on and why you let his other child live under your roof?"

hyunseo gasped, and wonyoung had forgotten she was sitting in the living room right next to jiyoung.

"this has nothing to do with my marriage and has everything to do with how stupid and useless you are." jiyoung's words still cut deep, no matter how hard wonyoung had willed it not to. "you think your father cared about you before this? you think he cares now?"

wonyoung could only blink her tears away.

she knew the truth, just like then. wonyoung was an extension of the jang name, nothing more. her failures were hers and her successes were his.

she wondered if wonseok ever cared about anyone but himself.

"he cares about someone!" wonyoung bit back with the same furosity as her mother. "and that's clearly not you."

hyunseo wanted the shouting to stop. she wanted everyone to calm down, to get along.

(deep down, she wondered if the real cause of the tension was her.)

"you don't know how hard it was carrying your burden." jiyoung could remember every insult that wonseok threw her way. every jab at her character, she took and held, and it was all wonyoung's fault. "you don't know the things your father put me through."

"i don't need to know!" wonyoung could feel her throat growing tired of holding back her tears. "you're a horrible mother. i wish you died instead!"

the room fell silent.

wonyoung could hear the quiet chatter coming from the tv, playing whatever show hyunseo had been watching. the polyester cuff of wonyoung's sleeve rubbed against her wrist as she covered her mouth. she could smell the rain from outside, no longer pouring,

in front of her, wonyoung watched as she saw her mother cry for the first time.

to love someone is to do the right thing.

"how can you say that to me?" jiyoung didn't know she could feel pain like this again. "how could you hurt your mother, wonyoung?"

("it should've been you, jiyoung. it should've been you instead of jihyun.")

but wonyoung was tired of asking her mother to love her.

"whatever."

wonyoung turned, slamming the door behind her. she could feel her hands shaking, a part of her guilty for saying those words, and a part of her horrified for meaning them.

wonyoung wished the rain would start once more. perhaps she could hide her tears in them.

wonyoung and her mother hadn't spoken about the incident, and she never would.

upon thinking about it, only regret gnawed at the bottom of her chest. she hated how a significant part of her meant the words she said, and how deep down, she truly wished for it to be true.

wonyoung was just like her father, in every sense.

"dad told me to pick you up today."

wonyoung could see the middle schoolers around her, mouth hung open as the eldest picked up her sister. behind hyunseo, a boy around her age scurried away, nearly tripping over himself in fear.

granted, wonyoung was glaring at him.

"was that your boyfriend?" wonyoung felt a deep-setted anger simmering in her chest.

"no!" she could see her sister blushing heavily. "why?"

she knew her mother couldn't care less about who she dated, but she wondered if jiyoung felt the same as her when it came to hyunseo.

"you guys shouldn't be that close if you aren't dating." she felt like a mother scolding her daughter. sighing once she saw hyunseo's pout, wonyoung relented. "does he like you?"

"i don't think so." hyunseo's frown deepened, and a part of wonyoung wanted to reassure her that it was the boy's loss. "do you think he does?"

oh. wonyoung raised an eyebrow.

"do you want him to?"

hyunseo's face burned a firey red as she refused to answer. it took everything in the older girl to not tease her sister. wonyoung never understood someone crushing on another person that much.

perhaps she hadn't met the right person yet. at least, that's what aeri and yeojin had told her (yujin had stayed oddly quiet when wonyoung had asked her).

the two walked out of the building, wonyoung smiling at every passerby she had recognized. there were many of her father's business partners around, all because wonseok had decided hyunseo had to attend private school.

wonyoung shivered at the thought of entering a private school.

"you should apologize to auntie." hyunseo frowned, fiddling with the strap of her backpack.

wonyoung sighed. "it's not your problem, hyunseo."

hyunseo lowered her head, feeling as wonyoung gave her a soft pat on her head.

"i don't like seeing you upset, unnie."

upset was an understatement.

"i'm not upset." wonyoung tried her best to reassure her younger sister, smiling as she opened the car her dad had gifted her on her sixteenth birthday.

"my mom said that lying can put you in jail for life." hyunseo scolded her, and wonyoung couldn't help but burst out laughing. "i know it doesn't because i'm not five anymore, but still."

the two hopped inside, wonyoung starting the car as hyunseo settled in.

"it's her fault." wonyoungg muttered.

she didn't expect hyunseo to understand. although there was a sliver of her that felt bitter, the younger girl wasn't there for wonyoung's childhood. she couldn't blame hyunseo for defending her version of jiyoung.

"i know." hyunseo looked at the window as they pulled out of the parking lot. "but sometimes, it's not just her fault. no one is perfect."

wonyoung felt her heart drop.

hyunseo had seen through her facade.

"i thought you thought i was perfect?" wonyoung's calm voice failed to reflect her true emotions.

did hyunseo hate her now? did she realize that the person she looked up to was nothing but a selfish, ruined person who wished death on her mother?

wonyoung needed to focus on driving before she crashed the two of them on the side of the road.

"you are." hyunseo seemed truthful, but wonyoung begged to differ. "but even perfect people mess up sometimes."

she knew. she had to.

"that would mean they aren't perfect."

wonyoung wasn't perfect. it was her fatal flaw.

"oh." hyunseo hummed, oblivious to her older sister's internal turmoil. "that makes sense, i guess."

wonyoung wondered if she'd ever be perfect.

she wondered if hyunseo would forgive her.

it had only been almost a year since the two had gotten close. hyunseo had followed her around like a baby chick following her mother, and wonyoung cherished it like she cherished her little sister.

but she couldn't stay in this place anymore, not when her father and mother was here. she couldn't become who they wanted, no matter how hard she wanted to.

wonyoung just wanted to be selfish. she just wanted to be anything but her parents.

"look at my daughter!"

wonseok had been babying her since she agreed to go to snu. it was everything she wanted when she was a child, to be recognized and loved by him, but she was terrified of becoming another jang clone.

"top of her class, and on her way to seoul university, just like her father."

she had to break the news to him coldly, just like how he had announced to her mother about his affair.

"i want to go to suma."

wonyoung could see his facade drop, and she was met with the face of the wonseok she knew; cold, unloving, and terrifying.

she hoped hyunseo wouldn't see her like that once she left.

"what?"

wonyoung repeated herself. "i'm going to suma."

suma was a prestigious school, one of the SKYS that everyone had obsessed over. still, in the eyes of the elite, sending your child to the worst out of the four was a mockery.

jang wonseok wasn't a mockery.

"no, you aren't." wonseok's voice was firm and wonyoung could see her mother stiffen at his voice. "that's a performing arts school. your mother went to one when she was younger and look how she turned out."

"she graduated in yonsei."

"she went to a performing arts high school." wonseok reasoned before standing up. "wonyoung, you're not going to suma. you didn't even apply."

she sent the registration forms the day her and her mother had fought, with a letter of recommendation from her coach and the principal.

it was the only school that she had done so.

"i did." wonyoung tried her best for her voice to not waver. "i'm going."

wonseok took a heavy breath, internally blaming his wife for raising a daughter so disobedient. "who's gonna pay for your tuition?"

"i'm on a full-ride scholarship." she decided to answer, quick and curtly.

suma was the only school that had given her a full-ride scholarship, included in which are dorms and her meal plan. snu had only given her a partial one since the campus was only a couple minutes drive from gangnam.

"the majors there are useless." wonseok tried to reason, his temper slowly getting the better of him. "you need something practical, something that makes you-"

"a jang?"

wonyoung had meant it as an insult, but all wonseok could take it as a compliment.

"exactly." he felt as if he was starting to get through to his daughter. "i thought you said you were doing political science, wonyoung."

she never wanted to do political science. if she had to choose a major, one of which wasn't in multi-arts, she would've chosen biology with a focus on flora.

wonyoung never got what she wanted, though.

"i changed my mind."

this time, she would.

"you're kidding me." wonseok couldn't believe what he was hearing. he looked over to jiyoung, face red from anger as he adjusted the cuffs on his shirt. "talk to your daughter."

with one look, wonyoung knew her mother knew that she wasn't going to change her mind. it was one of the many things that terrified wonyoung, especially back when her mom found out about her preference for women.

("it's gonna be my problem if your dad finds out. keep your mouth shut.")

"wonyoung, now's not the time to annoy your dad." jiyoung just wanted to go upstairs and turn off her brain. she was tired of hearing her husband yell and her daughter whine. "just do what he says."

wonyoung shook her head.

"no." she stood her ground, just like her father had taught her. "their volleyball team's good. it's basically the best way to get into the national team. each year they take someone to go and-"

"that's not you!" wonseok could feel his temper skyrocketing. the jang's were made for politics like they have always been. "you're a jang!"

wonyoung never asked to be born a jang.

"i'm going." this was her only way out. "i already accepted."

jiyoung shook her head. with a piercing glare, she looked at her husband. "this is your fault for enabling her fantasies."

"kang seulgi and lee chaeyeon went there. so did seo soojin." her father shook his head, muttering curses under his breath. suddenly, wonyoung had realized.

"dad," there was a reason why she had gone to that high school in the first place. if the jang's were anything, they were easily influenced. "yoo jimin goes there."

"you're not yoo jimin."

wonyoung knew that, but she still wanted to dream.

"yujin-unnie is going. aeri-unnie also goes there." wonyoung begged. she knew that deep down, no matter how hard she tried, she would always need her father's approval. "the oh's went there too! haewon-ssi is next in line to inherit-"

"enough."

wonyoung looked down, her act no longer hiding her desperation.

she couldn't stay here. she couldn't go to snu, and be a half-baked politician who lies their way out of problems. wonyoung had no say in her life, but this time, she just wanted one chance.

"who else?"

wonyoung thought to herself.

"hwang yeji."

wonseok nodded.

"i'll think about it, wonyoung."

that was more than enough.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 13 days

Note

Heyo [:

Love your work! I was wondering if you could write some headcanons on Professor Fig? (and maybe Miriam?)

A/N: do I have headcanons? OF COURSE I DO, LETS GO!

ELEAZAR AND MIRIAM FIG HC

Eleazar was sorted to Gryffindor, Miriam was Ravenclaw

Eleazar was a daring-do troublemaker, he'd push the limits of the rules and constantly explore beyond the bounds of Hogwarts. He was eager for adventure and full of wanderlust.

Miriam was a popular, sweet, clever girl with a sharp mind and a soft voice. She was a high academic achiever from day one and set her ambitions high into researching mysterious or forgotten forms of magic. The unknown fascinated her.

Their first real interaction was in fourth year when Eleazar was running for his life from the prefects. He rounded a corner, nearly ran into Miriam, dove behind a tapestry, and pleaded with her to not say anything.

When the prefects came around, she gestured down the hallway and they kept running. She found the whole situation amusing. Eleazar came out of his hiding spot, out of breath, and said he owed her one. She said she'd hold him to that.

Eleazar used this excuse to seek her out. Rules about interactions between boys and girls were much stricter in his time and he found the thrill of pursuing her, even in a friendly way, exciting.

Miriam found him charming, in a rapscallion sort of way. While she was more bound to the rules of the school than he was, she couldn't help find his excitement infectious.

Their first date was in their 6th year. It started with a traditional butterbeer in the three broomsticks, and ended with a sunset stroll along the edge of the forbidden forest. There was a perfect overlook of Hogwarts.

Miriam showed her own daring when she was the first to kiss him.

Eleazar was a goner from that day forward. He wanted this girl to be in his life for the rest of his days. He was head over heels in love with her.

Miriam was so happy she found someone at Hogwarts she could share passion with after graduation. She could get marriage out of the way so her family doesn't bother her over it and then she could focus on her research with the love of her life by her side.

Eleazar was tempted to elope with her, but Miriam wanted a proper ceremony.

They got married the summer after graduation. A modest wedding, with just some friends and family, but it was their perfect day.

After Hogwarts, Miriam had graduated with such high marks that she was granted funding for her research into Ancient Magic by the Department of Mysteries.

Eleazar traveled alongside her on the adventure of a lifetime. They saw the world together. Saw so many amazing places, met so many amazing people and creatures and beasts.

They mutually decided to not have children. Between their travels and research, children just weren't part of the plan.

As the years went on, Miriam's research, no matter how thorough she had been over, the decades, was starting to seem impossible to complete. She felt so close to the truth, but answers seemed just out of reach.

Eleazar's wanderlust had been satiated by the time he was in his 60s and applied to be a professor of magic theory at Hogwarts.

Miriam didn't travel far from Scotland after Eleazar got the teaching job, but she couldn't stop her search now if she wanted to.

Miriam was at Rookwood castle in the spring of 1890 where she met a goblin by the name of Lodgok. She had met many a goblin in her travels and welcomed him warmly. She even offered him tea.

Unfortunately, the next goblin she met was not as accepting of her kindness. Ranrok killed her without mercy. She didn't even have a chance to raise her wand.

The news of Miriam's death made Eleazar feel as though his soul had been torn in two. His soulmate was taken. The love of his life.

He barely had time to grieve before the headmaster sent him an owl about him having to mentor a student being admitted late to Hogwarts.

Throughout the summer as he teaches MC the basics, he puts on a polite mask while he interacts with them but cries himself to sleep every night.

He would never burden a child with his pain.

When it's discovered that MC can see and interact with traces of ancient Magic, the very magic Miriam spent her whole life pursuing, it's like he suddenly has air in his lungs again.

Over the school year, Eleazar becomes attached to MC like they were his own. He feels protective of them as the ancient magic business becomes more and more harrowing, leading to a final confrontation with Ranrok.

He sticks to MC like glue through the cavern underneath Hogwarts. He's going to get them through as much of the goblin army as he can so they can get to Ranrok. They were the only one capable of stopping such a monster.

When the cliff collapses, and they're separated for the final battle, He uses all of his strength to get back to them. He's barely alive when he sees them again, the dark magic from Ranrok swirling around MC like a storm.

He tries to keep the earth supporting Hogwarts steady as MC attempts to contain the dark magic.

"You're stronger than you know."

He doesn't know if MC even heard him over the deafening crumbling of stone and angry magic flying through the air.

When it's all over, and the magic is contained, he feels the sort of relief wash over him like he can finally rest. Looking up through the soft blue glow of the repository, he swears he sees a familiar figure just beyond, beckoning him.

"Miriam..." He feels her wand in his hands again. MC holding it to his chest.

"Miriam would have loved you, MC. The wizarding world couldn't be in more capable hands."

The light in his eyes fades. He exhales his final breath.

He embraces Miriam. Peace.

#hogwarts legacy #eleazar fig #miriam fig #headcanon #we all knew what was coming #I still cried

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

Girl I think we all need some poly ghostface where stu and billy are teasing the reader and talking about them like their not there, "i dont know...maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want..." ;)) it can be smut or not idm. Love ur writing so much <33333

❝highschool detective on the case❞

✭ pairing : poly ghostface x reader

✭ fandom : scream

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl who just moved up from (hometown) she has a crazy fetish when it comes to serial killers having taken it upon herself to even solve unsolved murder cases - which she gets from her father. He was the top detective in his unit after all. Upon hearing about this ghostface killer she dives into detective mood grabbing their attention in the process

✭ authors note : I think we all are borderline psychotic when it comes to these two nibwits also thank you for requesting and I’m glad you’re enjoying my works so far :)

✭ slashers masterlist

Woodsboro High School buzzed with the energy of a new school year, and (Y/N) had just arrived, ready to start fresh in this unfamiliar town. As she stepped onto the campus, her presence stood out like a stark contrast to the other students.

She wore a leather trench coat that fell just past her thighs, giving her an enigmatic aura. Low-rise washed-out jeans hugged her hips, revealing a tattoo on her lower stomach. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, and dark shades shielded her eyes, giving her an almost FBI agent-like mystique. Chunky boots completed her unconventional ensemble, and a crop top black vest shirt adorned with a rhinestone skull on the breast part added an edgy touch.

As she walked through the courtyard, students couldn't help but stare and whisper amongst themselves, wondering who this mysterious new girl was and what her story might be. (Y/N), however, seemed oblivious to the attention, her mind focused on something else entirely.

Reclining on a bench, she delved into the contents of her notes. In her lap lay a case file, weathered by time and use, filled with photographs, notes, and articles. It was the unsolved murder case from her hometown that her father, a dedicated detective, had entrusted to her once the trail had gone cold.

(Y/N) was determined to find answers and bring closure to the grieving families back home, even if it meant uprooting her life and starting anew in Woodsboro. The gravity of the task weighed heavily on her, and her fierce dedication to solving the case had become her driving force.

Throughout the day, students at Woodsboro High had been attempting to strike up conversations with (Y/N), but her terse responses and preoccupied demeanor made it clear that she had little interest in making friends. She was on a mission, and she had no time for idle chitchat.

At lunch, (Y/N) found a quiet spot to sit alone, her case file still in her lap as she reviewed the evidence once more. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Stu, one of her classmates, approaching from behind. He playfully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and said, "Now, what do we have here?"

(Y/N) stiffened at the unexpected contact but quickly composed herself. She turned to glance at Stu, taking in his appearance before responding with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit too old to not know about personal hygiene?"

Stu, looking slightly offended, discreetly sniffed himself and made a face. "Hey, I don't stink!"

Tatum, Stu's girlfriend, along with her friends Sidney and Sidney's boyfriend, also joined the group, curious about the interaction. Randy, another student, chimed in, intrigued by (Y/N)'s mysterious presence. "What's that you're reading?" he asked, peering at her lap.

In her usual blunt tone, (Y/N) replied, "A case."

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly taken aback by her straightforward response. Stu was the first to regain his composure, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "A case, huh? You're a detective or something?"

(Y/N) didn't provide any additional information, her eyes returning to the contents of the file. She was used to curious glances and questions, but her focus remained unwavering on her mission to uncover the truth.

Randy's curiosity remained unabated, and he leaned in closer, asking, "So, what's the case about?"

(Y/N) let out a sigh and put her notes aside, her expression serious as she shared a glimpse of her purpose. "I'm trying to solve a cold case from my hometown. It involves a young woman who was violently beaten and tortured."

Tatum raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. "But if it's a cold case, why are you trying to solve it now?"

(Y/N) shrugged, her dedication evident in her reply. "It's just a hobby I enjoy."

Billy, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but become more intrigued. He leaned in with a casual demeanor and asked, "So, you're into things like that, huh?"

(Y/N) met his gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "Yup. I was raised watching the dangers of the world and even experiencing it."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing (Y/N)'s cryptic response. Her presence had added an unexpected layer of mystery to their lunchtime gathering, and they couldn't help but wonder about the secrets she held and the motivations driving her pursuit of a cold case.

Sidney, feeling a twinge of awkwardness, couldn't help but blurt out, "What kind of experiences are you talking about?" But she quickly realized the insensitivity of her question and immediately apologized, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

(Y/N) simply shrugged off the awkward moment, her demeanor unphased by Sidney's unintended bluntness. "No worries," she replied calmly before elaborating on her past. "I've seen quite a bit, to be honest. When I was three, I watched an unsub murder my mom right in front of me."

Sidney's eyes widened in shock, regret for her earlier question apparent on her face.

(Y/N) continued, her tone steady. "Then, when I was thirteen, I was kidnapped as part of a blackmail attempt against my father. He's a detective, you see. Since then, I've been to all sorts of crime scenes, helping him with his work."

Stu couldn't help but comment, "Wow, that's dark."

Billy, mumbling under his breath, added, "Wicked."

(Y/N) acknowledged their reactions with a nonchalant nod, as if her experiences were just a matter-of-fact part of her life. She had learned to cope with the darkness she had witnessed and embraced her role as an amateur detective, eager to make sense of the chaos around her.

Breaking the now oncoming silence (Y/N) decides to ask her own question, “So what’s fun around here?” Tatum taking it upon herself decides to reply back whiles filing her mails, “Not much honestly, though shopping is always on the table.”

But (Y/N) wasn't interested in the usual teenage pastimes. She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, and clarified, "No, no, no! I'm talking murder cases here, blonde. Anything good?"

Randy, who had already labeled her as a weirdo, rolled his eyes, muttering, "Oh, no, not another weirdo."

(Y/N) couldn't help but give Randy a proud smirk, as if she embraced that title with pride. Sidney and Tatum, perhaps sensing the direction the conversation was about to take, excused themselves from the group.

Stu, always eager for attention, chimed in, "You know, Sidney's mom's murder was pretty wild. She was having an affair, and the guy must've gone crazy and slaughtered her."

(Y/N) listened intently, a crazed look in her eyes, and responded, "Yeah, now there's the good stuff. Tell me more."

Billy, with a hint of excitement in his voice, added, "There was also the murder of those two students not too long ago. It was pretty brutal."

"A murder, you say?" (Y/N) leaned in with an unsettling grin, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me about it."

Stu, relishing the chance to share a gruesome tale, went into chilling detail about the murder. "Well, my ex, Cassie, she was slaughtered. Her body was found strung up by her own organs in her front yard. It was... brutal. And her boyfriend, Derek, was found duct-taped to a lawn chair and drowned in the pool at her house. His intestines were out too."

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a disturbing excitement as she listened to the horrifying description. She pressed for more information, asking, "Any leads on the killer?"

The boys exchanged glances and shook their heads. "No, not really," Billy admitted.

Randy added, "And Sidney, she was attacked a few nights after that. She said the killer was masked and wore what looked like a ghost mask."

(Y/N)'s grin widened at the mention of the masked killer, her fascination with the macabre evident. It seemed that the darker the story, the more it intrigued her. The group had unwittingly drawn her into their web of murder mysteries, and little did they know that her relentless pursuit of the truth would soon unearth secrets that would put them all in grave danger.

“Seems this town just got a little more interesting,'" (y/n) remarked with an eerie grin as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She gathered her things and excused herself, leaving Randy to his own devices as he followed suit and left.

Now, only Stu and Billy remained alone at the table. Billy's eyes darkened, and a sinister glint danced in them as he leaned in closer to Stu. He asked in a hushed tone, "Should we go after her tonight?"

Stu, hyped up by the disturbing stories and (Y/N)'s unnerving interest in murder cases, couldn't help but share Billy's excitement. He replied with an eager grin, "Hell yeah."

(Y/N) returned home after a long day at Woodsboro High, finding a note from her dad, the detective, explaining that he would be back late, as usual. With a resigned sigh, she decided to unwind, slipping into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top.

She settled onto the couch, surrounded by an array of open books, articles, and her laptop, her research materials for delving into the recent murders that had captured her fascination. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of her laptop screen.

Hours passed as she scoured the internet for any information about the brutal murders that had taken place in Woodsboro. (Y/N)'s determination was unwavering, her thirst for answers driving her to dig deeper into the dark mysteries of the town.

The hours dragged on, and fatigue began to creep in. Despite her best efforts, the weight of exhaustion overcame her, and (Y/N) eventually drifted into a fitful nap on the couch, her mind still haunted by the gruesome details of the unsolved murders that had consumed her thoughts.

(Y/N) woke up late at night, the room cast in darkness except for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She glanced at the clock, which read 10:00 PM. Her dad still hadn't returned home, but she was used to his late hours.

Feeling hungry, she decided to order some food delivery to keep her going while she continued her research. As she dialed her order, anticipation for a late-night snack grew. She gave the delivery address and hung up, ready to return to her work.

Just as she settled back into her research, her phone rang, startling her. She picked it up, and at first, the voice on the other end played it off as a wrong number. But then they began asking personal questions.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" the voice inquired.

(Y/N), her curiosity piqued, retorted playfully, "Why? You trying to ask me out?"

The person on the other line let out a smirk, their tone suggestive as they asked again, "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

(Y/N) decided to tease them with an equally suggestive response, "Perhaps." She was intrigued by the mysterious caller and couldn't help but engage in their unusual late-night conversation.

As (Y/N) found herself engaged in this mysterious late-night conversation, her curiosity only grew when the person on the other end suggested, "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

The voice on the phone responded, "I want to know your favorite scary movie."

(Y/N) didn't hesitate to share her interests. "Well, I really enjoyed 'The Craft.' It's a fascinating blend of witchcraft, teenage rebellion, and a dash of horror. The story revolves around a group of high school girls who form a coven and use their newfound powers for personal gain. But as their abilities grow, so does the darkness that haunts them. It's a captivating exploration of the consequences of wielding supernatural abilities and the complexities of female friendship."

She paused briefly before continuing, "Another one I really liked is 'Thinner.' It's based on a Stephen King novel and tells the story of a morbidly obese lawyer who's cursed by a gypsy and begins to inexplicably lose weight at an alarming rate. The film delves into themes of karma, guilt, and the unintended consequences of our actions. The slow, agonizing transformation of the main character is both terrifying and thought-provoking."

(Y/N) went on to describe the intricate details of both films, her passion for horror movies evident in her animated discussion. She shared her insights on the characters, the plot twists, and the underlying themes, displaying an impressive knowledge of the genre. The mysterious caller on the other end seemed intrigued by her enthusiasm.

The person on the other end of the line, after inquiring about her favorite scary movies, pressed for her name. (Y/N), however, wasn't so quick to reveal her identity. "Why should I tell you my name when you haven't told me yours?" she countered.

A sinister chuckle came through the phone before the voice replied, "Because I want to know the name of who I'm watching right now. Nice top, by the way."

(Y/N), far from being scared, merely rolled her eyes and glanced out the window behind her. She smirked into the darkness and said, "So, this is the infamous killer of Woodsboro? Would've expected better, but then again, you're just a small-town killer."

The voice on the other end of the line grew audibly offended, and they began to issue chilling threats. They spoke of slicing her open, just like they had done to Cassie, and leaving her hanging for her father to find. The threats were meant to intimidate, to strike fear into (Y/N)'s heart.

However, she remained surprisingly unshaken. Instead of cowering, she chuckled, a mix of defiance and amusement in her voice. "Give it your best shot," she taunted, her bravado unwavering. "I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

The late-night conversation had taken a menacing turn, and (Y/N) was about to find herself entangled in a perilous game of wits and survival with a cunning and ruthless adversary.

The next day at school, (Y/N) arrived with an unusual cheeriness about her. Stu and the rest of her newfound friends couldn't help but notice her upbeat demeanor, and Stu was the first to comment, asking, "What's got you so cheery today?"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, (Y/N) replied, "Oh, you won't believe this. I've got video footage of Ghostface trying to break into my house."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the group, their eyes widening in disbelief. "No way," they chimed in unison.

(Y/N), however, seemed nonchalant as she waved off their amazement. "Yes way," she affirmed, laughing it off as if it were just another everyday occurrence.

Randy couldn't help but express his surprise. "I'm surprised you're not dead," he remarked, his tone laced with incredulity.

(Y/N) shrugged, her explanation casual. "My dad had our houses revamped before we moved here. Custom locks, gateways, and cameras. No one gets in unless they want them to. It's like living in a fortress."

As the group absorbed this information, (Y/N) decided to take a teasing turn. She smirked and declared, "Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't been hunted like this in a while."

The reaction from her friends was mixed, to say the least. Most were creeped out by her unusual enthusiasm, especially given the recent unsettling events. But Stu and Billy, the true culprits behind the Ghostface mask, couldn't help but exchange sly glances. Their nefarious plan was in motion, and (Y/N) had just unknowingly stoked the flames of their sinister game.

Billy couldn't resist adding a chilling remark, his tone laced with dark humor, "I don't know... maybe if they asked ever so nicely for it, they would get what they want."

“What’s the suppose to mean?” (Y/n) remarks and billy shrugs it off “Who knows maybe the killer is somewhere watching you, after all you can never be too careful.”

138 notes · View notes

imnotasuperhero · 1 year

Text

Some feelings, they can travel too.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, the greatests love stories come to an end.

TW: Cancer, grieving, major character death. A doze of smut just to add to the angst (I set it in cursive, so you can scroll past it if you don’t mind the little bits of feels)

A/N: My dudes. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here once again with a request that was too hard to decline since it hits home and I thought it might work for some overdue catharsis. I cried my eyes out resulting in a headache, so pardon any mistakes I made. I’ve been working on this for several hours and babysitting a 3 y/o is no calm job. Hope you enjoy this over 6k monster of mine (I reached anotehr milestone and I couldn’t be prouder) And like I say, if I hurt, it’s only fair you do, too.

Looking up at the imponent building in front of her, Wanda readjusted the straps of her backpack and followed the commands of her twin, doing some breathing exercises to calm her erratic heart.

Being the new kid at school was never something Wanda enjoyed, no matter how many times she had to transfer thanks to her dearest father. She hated feeling so small and the fact that she wasn’t the best at making friends did nothing to ease her anxiety.

“Come on, Wanda!” Pietro grunted annoyed, backing his steps and grabbing her hand to drag her along.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Wanda sighed, trying to escape his tight grip to no avail.

“I do. And if we don’t hurry, we’re gonna miss our first period.” At the annoyance tinting his voice, Wanda decided to shut her mouth and follow him to the reception.

After getting each of their class schedules, the twins headed back through the path they walked.

“Okay, your classroom is at the next hall, third-”

“I heard what the lady said. I know where to go,” Wanda rolled her eyes at the need to punch her exasperating brother.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in the next period,” Pietro kissed the top of her head, trotting towards his own class.

Looking through the small window of the door, Wanda could feel the baby hairs of her neck spiking up at the new faces unaware of her presence.

‘Please, may this year be nice,’ She begged silently to whoever God was out there.

Wanda had to remind herself not to run the small distance that separated the teacher’s desk from the door at the numerous heads turning to her simultaneously.

“Hi,” Wanda handed the white schedule to Mr. Chadman -as she read in the tag at the door. “I’m Wanda.”

The old man inspected the paper for a few seconds and nodded quietly. “Welcome, Wanda. Please be seated and enjoy.” He gave her a smile that reminded her of her late grandpa.

Looking over the classroom, she walked hunchedly to the only seat free, beside some girl with unique glasses.

“Hi,” said girl gave her a toothy smile, making Wanda smile. “Name’s Y/N,” she turned back to doodle something on the blank page of the boy behind her before fully turning to the front. Her head leaned to her expectantly.

“I’m Wanda,” the brunette mumbled as she took a seat and slowly took her books, as if trying to seem unbothered by the stare burning the side of her body.

“It’s not all the time we get new students,” you said in a whisper, for Mr. Chadman had started the lesson already. “Where are you from?”

“Um… Sokovia,” Wanda braced herself expecting the typical questions that followed, but gasped when you surprised her.

“That’s near the Czech Republic, right?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Wanda couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this won’t be a hard year, after all.

The rest of the school day was spent with minor inconveniences, except for Pietro’s teasing when he found out she might have made a friend.

Thought that was confirmed when she heard a familiar voice calling over her.

Looking to her left, she saw you standing on a table waving at her with that characteristic smile she learned to like.

“Hi,” Wanda smiled timidly at the 6 smiling faces staring at her.

“Guys, she’s Wanda. Wands, they’re… my friends,” you giggled sitting back down, scooting over to leave room for Wanda.

“Natasha,” the redhead spoke, sending daggers to you, to which you just threw a small piece of bread at her. “Nice to meet you,” she now turned to Wanda, showing her white smile.

“How’s school treating you?” The tall, brunette boy sitting adjacent to her spoke next. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Before Wanda could answer you gasped, earning your friend's attention.

“Right! Wands, he’s from near your country,” you smiled brightly, almost excited.

“Wait. Where you from?” His blue eyes lighted up expectantly.

“Sokovia,” Wanda dried her sweaty hands on her jeans, gathering all the confidence she could muster.

“Not that near, but I'll take it!” Bucky raised his hand.

Laughing at the glee plastered on his face, Wanda high-fived him.

The passing days had Wanda relaxing by the minute as it seemed she had met the right people thanks to you. Granted you all could be a little too much for her to handle, but she was expectant of what this school year could bring to her.

What she didn’t expect though, was discovering you in a new light as you busied yourself with a well-used notepad. Be it because of curiosity or something she wasn’t familiar with, she wasn’t able to take her eyes off you for the past few minutes.

“What are you working on?” Wanda scooted over, sitting beside you on your bed. “Seems like your life depends on it.”

Pausing for a second, you sighed calmly as you turned to look at her. “Remember how you told me you loved to sing but you sucked at writing your own songs?” You asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” Wanda’s face contorted into one of suspicion.

“Well, I’m finishing a song you might like to-”

“You what?” Wanda all but took the notepad from your hands, reading through the black letters contrasting against the white pages.

“As I was saying, I thought you’d like to participate in next month’s talent show.

“I- No.” Wanda shook her head. “Not happening.”

“But why,” you whined, taking her hand in yours and Wanda felt an electricity wave travel up her arm. “You have a beautiful voice and it’s unfair the world doesn’t know it.”

“I appreciate your willingness in sharing your talent with me and I love this song already. But I don’t sing in public.”

“You really like my song?” You asked, your eye shining with something Wanda couldn’t put her finger on.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” Wanda smiled proudly.

“Thanks,” you looked down, but Wanda could notice the rosy tint in your cheeks. But as soon as the shyness came, your stance was taken over by mischief.

“Tell you what,”

“Oh, no. I know that look and I don’t want-”

“But Wanda! I promise it’s a good thing!” You pleaded and Wanda could only sigh.

“Okay,” you paused confidently. “You sing this song in the talent’s show and I show you the tons of songs I’ve written.”

“Absolutely not.” Wanda nodded in the negative repeatedly.

“But Waaaaaands!” You whined deeply, conjuring the best pout you could, and Wanda only raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Besides, you dream of being a famous singer,” you continued when the silence had stretched for way too long. “How you’d make it if you don’t get out of your comfort zone?”

Wanda hated when you used her future to have it your way. But if she was being honest, she knew the day would come sooner or later, so she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“You better show me all of them,” Wanda laughed joyfully when you threw yourself at her, hugging her.

“I knew you’d come to your senses.” You spoke toothily, looking down at her comfortable smile.

But said smile turned into a thin line when Wanda realized how close you were. So close she could feel your small breaths colliding against her lips like a needed breeze on a hot summer day.

Poking your side, Wanda scurried from under you. “You’re squeezing me,”

“Blandy,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up.

“I- That’s not a wo-”

“I’m the creator here,” you shrugged her off to which Wanda poked her tongue at you.

The following weeks passed in a blur as you both worked on the song Wanda would sing. Long nights on the weekends turned into a constant between you two and Wanda couldn’t help the peace she felt when you were by her side. Despite the bubbly, -hyperactive at times, charming persona you held, you were like a soothing balm to her conflicted insides, silently healing the wounds her demons left her with.

“I can’t do it.” Wanda panicked, turning to her best friend.

“You can and you will,” you grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure her eyes stayed locked with yours, making Wanda hold her breath for a little longer than necessary. “I believe in you, Wands. You’ll do great!”

“What if-”

“Nope. I’m forbidding you to go there.” You chastised. “You said you trusted me, right?”

“Always,” she answered nervously.

“Then believe in yourself, babe. You’re capable of amazing things if you just cross the line,” you smiled comfortingly, fighting Wanda’s inner shadows away.

With those words, Wanda hugged you before she stepped onto the stage after hearing her name, adjusting her guitar trying to avoid the public’s eyes.

Looking at you one last time with your supportive smile grazing your features, Wanda faced the crowd with her eyes closed as her fingers played the right chords expertly.

Picture a place where it all doesn't hurt

Where everything's safe and it doesn't get worse

Oh my

We see through bloodshot eyes

Wanda’s soft voice accompanied the soothing notes from her guitar, creating a spell that hypnotized everyone in the room.

Jump with me, come with me, burn like the sun

We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Oh my

It's like we're out our minds

We've been runnin' for our lives

We've been hidin' from the light

We've been far too scared to fight

For what we want tonight

Wanda dared to open her eyes as she gained the confidence needed and smiled something proud at the faces full of calm in front of her.

Close your eyes and leave it all behind

Go where love is on our side

It's a trust fall, baby

By the time Wanda realizes she’s been staring at you, the last few chords come to its end. Feeling her heart burning from something she wasn’t sure of, Wanda played the last note smiling as everyone clapped and cheered at her. The adrenaline of the moment took over her, making her run to you after she walked off the stage.

“That was amazing!” Wanda giggled, closing her arms tightly around you.

“You are amazing,” you stood there, patiently holding her.

Breaking the hug, Wanda looked at your eye and felt the fire inside her burn stronger at the utter pride she found.

Before she could react, her lips touched yours, like a magnetic force dragging you together.

“I’m sorry,” she freaked when she realized what she just did. But the dreadful feeling disappeared when this time, you leaned forward, kissing her painfully slowly.

Smiling through the kiss, Wanda encircled her arms around your neck as you hugged her waist, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“Let me take you on a date?” You smiled when you parted for much-needed air.

“I would love that,” Wanda smiled as calmly as you, hugging you one last time hiding her face in the process, as she heard the voices of your friends nearing at a fast pace with the promise of celebrating after the show.

The stars shining over reminded you how small you were. Your small body was nothing compared to the cold rocks twinkling up in the black sky and a pang wounded your heart as Wanda shifted beside you, feeling the right side of your face burning under her intense gaze.

“Can I ask something?” Wanda’s voice was barely audible, afraid to break the calm.

Turning your head, you leaned forward pecking her lips. “Go ahead.”

“Why there’s a tinted side on your glasses?”

Closing your eyes, you sighed defeatedly. You knew it was too good to be true. Yet, you wished for the ask to never come.

“I’m blind in my left eye,” you pursed your lips, awaiting a reaction.

The gasp that escaped Wanda’s lips had you bracing yourself for the worst. You weren’t ready to give up on this living dream.

Before you could dwell too much into your sadness, Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek, as if inspecting her following actions were safe.

The burning sensation you felt on your left cheek started to prickle upwards your face as slender fingers were dragged agonizingly softly -a featherlight touch, really. Your breath stopped mid-exhale as Wanda lifted your glasses, caressing the skin beside your eye. You were thankful for the dark of the night around you, making it harder for Wanda to notice what could easily shine with the light.

As Wanda’s intense gaze shifted from one eye to the other, you closed your eyes to stop the forming tears. But what happened next had you choking a cry as Wanda kissed your broken eye and you could only wrap your arms around her waist as you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying unsuccessfully to hide your pain.

“Detka,” Wanda mumbled with her lips against your head.

Seeing you did not move, Wanda just stood there, holding you at a weird angle that provided you the comfort you needed and you silently thanked her. You weren’t ready for this part of your story to see the light and being honest, you didn’t think you’d ever will.

“Detka,” the brunette tried once again after a few moments. This time, you complied. And the look you saw in those green eyes had you inhaling sharply.

“What happened?” She asked, combing some locks off your forehead.

“I had an accident when I was little,” you lied. “I was helping my dad with a project and a splinter got in my eye, leaving it useless.” You spoke confidently, having used the lie for so long.

“It suits you,” Wanda winked and you laughed something small, appreciating the fact she didn’t pity you. Or that she didn’t show it if she did.

“Can I have my glasses again, please?”

“You can,” Wanda carefully placed your glasses in its place, kissing your nose to move to your lips.

Humming at the contact, you allowed yourself to relax for the time being. More than ever, you decided to live your life the best way you could without thinking of the looming ghost over you.

It was a Wednesday when the fact you were a few weeks away from graduating high school hit you. And with that, the rainy day felt even more gloomy as the thought of another milestone so close, yet so far away given the condition you were in.

But that thought was pushed to the back of your mind when the honking car outside signaled your ride had arrived.

You had planned to go bowling with your friends as the last gathering before finals started the following week, determined to cherish every single second you had with the people you loved.

That’s how you found yourself fighting with your left shoe as the lights were dimmed.

“Let me,” Natasha squatted in front of you, making a quick job of your shoelaces.

“Thanks,” you smiled toothily, hooking your arms together as you walked to your friends a few feet away rooting for each one of the Maximoff twins in some game you didn’t care to pay attention to.

Once everyone was in your booth, you started the game as Pietro decided he was going first.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and playful banter and you couldn’t be happier having your friends and your girlfriend by your side.

“You’re up,” Bucky cheered you. “Show speedster how we do it,” he winked, causing you all to laugh while Pietro grumbled something you couldn’t hear.

Walking to the line, you chose the purple ball and measured your distance with precision. Balancing forth and back until you felt confident enough, you sprint to the limit line throwing the rolling ball as hard as you could.

“Wooh!” Wanda and Natasha cheered as you dropped all the pines in one shoot.

You smiled proudly as you walked back to your friends, waiting for Pietro’s commentary.

“Pretty impressive for having one eye,” he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that you were leading the charts.

“Who says I just have one?” You frowned, hiding the giggle in your voice. “Tony gave me a bionic eye.” You shrugged, earning a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ from the youngsters.

“What!” Pietro looked shocked at the boy adjacent to him.

“What can I say? I like helping my friends,” Tony high-fived you as you sat beside him.

That night you held onto the toilet bowl as if your life depended on it with Wanda holding your short hair up in a ponytail as you had woken up with a sudden need to empty your guts.

“What can I do?” Wanda asked on the verge of tears as she never stopped the circling patterns on your back.

“It’s okay, love.” You sighed deeply as you stood up on wobbly legs. “It was the fried egg, probably,” you opened the mouthwash and gargled the nasty taste away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but hug your girlfriend at seeing her so small. It was at that exact moment that you knew you did good in not telling her the truth.

“I don’t like seeing you sick,” the brunette pouted.

“Having you by my side makes it bearable,” you kissed her nose. Something that had become usual between you both whenever the other needed reassurance.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” you encircled her waist with your right arm, walking her to the bed.

The next minutes were spent in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth. Until the air around you started to weigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You turned to the body beside you.

“You think we’ll make it?” Wanda’s voice trembled and you felt your heart constrict at the not-so-positive prospect of your life.

Raising your hand to her face, you allowed your fingers to caress her soft skin, tracing her features with the lightest of touch, admiring her natural beauty and the dreamy way her eyes shone with the moonlight casted over her.

“It’s just college, baby,” you reassured her, pecking her lips.

“Far away schools,” she pouted something that had you all mushy.

Pausing, you decided to bite the bullet. “I was waiting till graduation,” you sat up, rummaging through your nightstand until you found the black velvety box.

You smiled softly at the choked gasp that left Wanda’s mouth as her eyes landed over the small square.

Opening the cube, you took out the small chain, holding it between your faces, absorbing all of Wanda’s emotion at that moment.

“Oh my,” Wanda grabbed the silver object, smiling watery at the pendants in her trembling hand.

“I know how much music means to you and is no secret it’s what bonded us,” you spoke calmly. “This is a reminder that no matter how far we are, we’ll always be connected.”

You quietly admired Wanda’s eyes glued to both musical notes, the eighth note hanging lower than the sixteenth note.

“Thank you,”

The sudden weight on top of you had you laughing as Wanda peppered your face with kisses while she repeated the same two words after every kiss.

“I love you,” the brunette cried with a smile before she locked your lips against hers in a searing promise. Of what, you didn’t know; but you surely won’t stop her for anything in the world.

But what started as an innocent kiss filled with promises of a future you might never see, shifted to something passionate that burned your body from the inside out and the clothes hugging your body started to suffocate you.

“Wands,” you moaned as your hands toyed with the end of her shirt.

The brunette sat quickly, discarding the clothing on the floor and you couldn’t help admiring the pale skin that invited you to emboss random patterns on its surface. And you did.

Your hands cupped her breasts, massaging them gently as you sat up to meet her lips, drawing out her moans.

At the tug on your shirt, you parted to take it off before you attacked her lips once again, grabbing her waist to guide her against your cunt, enjoying the every sinful sound that escaped her mouth.

Not having enough, you rolled over, landing on her as you started to trail wet kisses down her body, applying everything you learned during these three years, determined to allow her to remind you when your time had come.

The primal moan she mouthed when you bite on her hip bone had your hunger increasing ten times.

“Detka, please,” Wanda grunted in a gasp, bucking her hips up trying to find what she needed.

Grazing the tip of your nose against her mons pubis, you inhaled her intoxicating essence.

If the sound Wanda freed were sinful, the guttural sob she gifted you with when your tongue lapped at her folds had you in paradise.

Repeating the action once, then twice, you gathered as much wetness as you could, moaning between every lick. As if you licked your favorite lollipop after a bitter taste.

Deciding to finally give her what she wanted, your kisses ascended up, wetting every single patch of skin you could reach, smiling at the neediness of her voice.

“I need you,” she cried as she grabbed your head and brought you to her level, devouring your lips just to moan when she tasted herself.

Taking advantage of her dizzy state, you pumped three fingers inside of her as her head rolled back breathing something so sinful that you thought you’d been cursed for life, and you didn’t complain. Moving your digits in and out of her entrance at a slow pace you groaned at how tight she felt.

“You feel so good,” you praised. “Taking me so well.” Wanda could only moan at your words, too focused on matching your movements.

Sitting up, you stilled her with your free hand, never stopping your action as you looked down at her. The immaculate way in which her body writhed under you was something you could never forget. The perfect shifts in her face’s muscles with every pleasure you provided her had you wishing for your reality to change. You wanted nothing more than to live forever just to have her this way. A vulnerable mess under your touch, trusting you her soul.

Muffling a painful cry, you leaned over to kiss her devil’s lips, hoping the knot in your throat would go away.

“I love you forever,” you cried as you increased your pace, feeling her walls clenching around your fingers. Your hips pushed your hand deeper inside her as your fingers curled up, hitting the right spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Wanda cried arching her back, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Cum for me, love,” you commanded, stilling your shivering voice.

She didn’t need much more than a few extra pumps to cum all over your fingers, panting her way down the high.

Opening her eyes, the lust in those green orbs turned into concern as she looked at you.

“Why the tears?” She asked, bringing you to lay on top of her.

‘I’m dying’ “I love you,” you sobbed, placing your ear on her chest, desperate to hear her heartbeats full of life.

It was all so unfair. You deserved a lifetime with the love of your life. You deserve to have a family and to grow old with the woman that had stolen your heart out of the blue. You deserved to see her in white walking down the aisle. You deserved to see her achieve her dreams.

But all you had was a sand clock emptying itself by the minute and an excruciating pain taking over your stiff body. Breathing was becoming harder and harder as the will in you fought in vain to win a war you had lost time ago.

Wanda’s sobs joined yours as she hugged you tighter, unaware of the fact that the love of her life was nearing the end of her path.

The morning came and you were thankful Wanda didn’t comment on your breakdown from the previous night, for if she did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep the lie much longer. You knew she deserved the know, but you also knew she’d be willing to glue herself by your side and give up on her desires, and you never wanted to be that person. She deserved to fly and you could only support her with pride.

The following weeks provided little time for you and Wanda to spend time together since finals were kicking all your asses. But Wanda consoled herself knowing that you all would celebrate after graduation, proud of having achieved a milestone together. That and the prospect of having you for herself the whole summer had her squeezing her fuel tank to no end.

To say all of you had nailed the exams was an understatement as your glasses clinked together on your designated booth.

“I can’t believe we did it, guys!” Natasha smiled toothily, proud of herself.

“Next step, a week off at my beach house,” Tony proposed, earning all of your cheers.

“You sure your parents will let us all together?” Steve raised an eyebrow, always the reasonable one.

“They will. Leave it to me,” Tony winked.

“Make sure you don’t bring any toys,” you smirked as everyone laughed at the memories of last summer’s escapade.

“You wound me,” Tony faked being hurt.

Wanda’s hand rested on your bare thigh, smiling peacefully as she enjoyed the banter between you all.

Her mind took her back to the first day at school when she prayed before entering your classroom and she silently thanked all the gods out there for having you in her life. With your differences and disagreements, all of you conformed a tight-knotted group that she was sure would last a lifetime.

Kissing your cheek softly, she stood up with both your empty glasses in hand, walking to the bar for a refill.

“You’re Wanda, right?” A tall brunette took her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” Wanda frowned as she waited for her beers.

“I’m Maria. Maria Hill,” the lady introduced herself, stretching her hand. Once Wanda accepted it, she continued. “I saw you on stage the other day and I’ve been waiting to meet you,” her words had Wanda’s attention.

“I’m a music producer and I know how to spot talent,” she explained. “I’d like you to sing at the upcoming festival next month.”

“Are you serious?” Wanda’s eyes opened wide at the offer the woman was giving her.

“Dead serious,” Maria nodded curtly. “If the public likes you, we can talk business.” She handed her a business card. “Call me if you’re interested.”

With that, the woman smiled politely and walked away, leaving Wanda in a frozen state until Tom called her name.

“Warm beer doesn’t taste good,” the young man smirked.

“Right. But did you hear what she said?” Wanda’s smile grew bigger by the second.

“The only way is up,” he winked before moving to another customer.

Wanda walked back to your booth in an ecstasy state after the short encounter. She could be signed up.

Feeling your eyes on her, she looked at you, unable to hide her happiness.

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled to you, kissing your cheek and you smiled contently.

To say you were excited was an understatement. When Wanda told you about her offer you didn’t pause to think about your words.

“You should’ve said yes!” You smiled toothily with your own body vibrating from happiness and Wanda couldn’t help giggling at your reaction.

“I was kinda shocked,” she scrunched her nose.

“My baby is getting famous!” You launched yourself at her and Wanda burst out laughing at your eagerness.

You’ve always been her biggest supporter. Always by her side in whichever gig she got and always fighting the anxiety that sometimes took the best of her.

She’ll never forget when she showed you her first song. Your eye had lighted up like the fourth of July and the pride reflected in it had her insides warming up. And the jokes of having to quit your job but still waiting to get paid had her stomach flipping at the wondering of how you’d celebrate this time when she told you she accepted to play at the festival.

But all of that flew off her mind when she got the call from Natasha saying you’d been admitted into the hospital.

All her dreams and wishes shifted into one.

‘Please, may you be safe’ she begged to any deity willing to hear her.

Stomping through the hospital doors, she rushed to the front desk asking for your whereabouts, just to sprint the two floors that separated you both.

The air filling her lungs had become toxic and it hurt to breathe. Her trembling legs burned from the sudden running from the parking lot to your hospital bed.

“Detka!” Wanda cried entering room 274.

What she saw had her heart jumping on freefall down a cliff.

Your weakened form looked at her without the life that was so characteristic of you. All the little traits that adorned your happy features were erased as if they never existed.

Her legs menaced to give away and she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Knees collided against the cold floor as her hand grabbed yours as if the act alone would transmit to you some of her light.

“Detka,” she sobbed as her world started to tumble.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you spoke calmly as your free hand cupped her cheek.

She placed her hand over yours, holding it tightly as she tried to understand.

Two days ago you were laughing gleefully about your vacation together and now… now you looked like a ghost.

“Come here,” you commanded weakly as you scooted over and Wanda didn’t need to think twice.

Careful not to step on any IV, she cuddled against you, choking at the warmth barely existent.

“What- Why,” she cried defeatedly as she crumpled your hospital gown in her hand.

Your arms held her trembling body, spasming with every sob that escaped her. Kissing your head, you mumbled against her. “My eye,” was all your broken voice allowed to communicate.

“It wasn’t an accident. Was it?” She should’ve caught the signs. The random sickness and the vomiting, all had an explanation she was too oblivious to note.

“It’s a retinoblastoma,” you paused, trying to steady your voice. “It had reached the majority of my organs,” you tightened your hold and Wanda’s soul cried with her at the barely change in strength.

“You can’t leave me!” She screamed between sobs. “You- You’ve- You have promised me,” her whole face contorted as another pang ran through her heart.

The news had left her weak to speak, so she stood there, laying by your side in your hospital bed, crying her pain away as she tried to process how her life would change soon. You were slipping through her fingers and she could do nothing about it other than see you leave.

“I’m gonna call Maria and cancel-”

“What?” You cut her off, looking down at her.

She sat in bed, sighing at the refusal from her body. “You’re dying,” she groaned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to pause your life,” you frowned sternly and Wanda felt herself becoming small, like a little kid being chastised because they ate too many sweets before bed.

“You’re the one abandoning me! You can’t tell me how to spend your last moments on this earth!” Wanda spits venomously, rage taking over her.

The resentment only grew stronger as you stood quiet, your sight staring at your lap.

“You have no right when you’re the one giving up!”

By the time she realized her words, your cheeks were already marked with tears running freely.

“I-” Wanda paused as a fresh wave of tears burned her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she launched herself towards you, holding you with all the will she possessed just to anchor you here. She refused to let you go.

“I’ll always be with you, Wands,” you cried, hugging her with what little force you had left.

“I’ll love you forever.” She vowed sincerely.

And she did. Every day for the next two weeks she stood by your side, telling you about the song she was writing for the festival and watching your favorite movies along with her favorite sitcoms. Even planning gatherings with your friends as you all enjoyed the last moments together.

Against her will, the day of the recital had come sooner than she expected and her heart ached knowing you won’t be there. It was the first time you missed one of her presentations and everything in her broke. Her heart shattered and she knew a part of her would go with you.

But she had promised you. And she would never break her word, no matter how hard it was to comply.

Looking at her reflection one last time, she smiled tearily as she saw your image in the mirror by her side, with the proudest toothy smile you only reserved for her. And that alone was enough to enlight her willpower.

She stepped into the white light as everyone cheered something she could really understand and she couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline running through every cell in her body.

“Good night, Westview!” Wanda smiled cheerily when the crowd erupted. “I hope you’re having a wonderful night. I wrote this song thinking of someone special and I hope you enjoy it.” She spoke confidently, feeling your joyful energy surrounding her. Finding Natasha’s eyes, she nodded as the redhead raised two thumbs up.

As the first tunes filled the silence looming over them, Wanda breathed deeply, reassuring herself.

I've tried to leave it all behind me

But I woke up and there they were beside me

And I don't believe it but I guess it's true

Some feelings, they can travel too

Wanda sang slowly, evoking every emotion into those lines.

Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest

Makes it hard to catch my breath

I scramble for the light to change

You're always on my mind

Her intrusive smile hung crookedly on her lips, feeling your presence by her side.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

Wanda allowed her mind to travel back to the moment she first heard your voice for the first time. Back then, she didn’t know that her heart could feel so strongly for someone.

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

And boy, how she wished to see your face in the crowd, with your toothy smile lightening her path.

And if I stay home, I don't know

There'll be so much that I'll have to let go

You're disappearing all the time

But I still see you in the light

For you, the shadows fight

And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight

I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Wanda sang her soul in those lines, hoping somehow you knew.

We all need something watching over us

Be it the falcons, the clouds or the crows

And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless

Speechless

Her eyes watered at the realization you’d be the one watching over her. Always guiding her, even if she couldn’t see you. And she couldn’t feel more blessed.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

As she sang the last words, she allowed her fingers to take over the melody, imagining said notes floating away to you, for all she wanted now was to see your proud smile one last time when she rushed to your side shortly.

But she never saw you again.

By the time she met her friends, her legs gave up as she saw the tears running down their faces, confirming to her what her soul had felt when she saw you in the mirror was nothing more than the bond that linked you breaking as you left this world.

The arms of her friends surrounding her meant nothing at the realization that you had left her. All alone to pick up the pieces of her heart scattered around.

Sadness reigned over the group of people gathered by your casket. Each one with their own thoughts and feelings, but if Wanda was sure of something it was that everyone there asked the same question.

How come the nicest people are the first to leave? Seeing your picture over the easel with that big smile that had taken her captive and your eye shining with that unique light it held, enlightened a wave of anger roaring free. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda,” your mom spoke softly once the funeral ended.

Looking up, Wanda couldn’t help her cries as the woman hugged her tightly, crying along with her.

“She loved you,” she spoke against the brunette’s hair. “Until her last breath, she loved you.”

Those words played in her mind like a mantra. Maybe if she repeated them enough, it wouldn’t hurt that much.

“She asked me to give you this,” the woman gave her a white envelope when they parted away. “And one last thing? Thank you for loving her.” She kissed Wanda’s head before walking away, leaving a broken Wanda by your grave.

Sitting down, she let the silence surround her, almost like a bubble that would pop with even the softest touch, breathing twice, thrice before opening the letter.

Wands, if you’re reading this it means my body is no longer by your side. But know that my soul will always be linked to yours, for a love like ours is hard to die.

Thank you for all the great moments you shared with me. Unbeknownst to you, every single smile and laugh you gifted me added time to my sand clock and that blessing is something that kept me fighting till the end.

I know you’re suffering right now and you need to mourn, like any loss. But when you’re able to truly smile again, I beg of you not to close your heart. Life is too magical to be lived alone.

Allow yourself to feel love again, don’t fight your heart. Yes? Promise me you’ll keep your head high and not let my departure keep you from enjoying the little things in life.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about it, but I know you and I didn’t want you to leave your life on standby while you worried about things no one could solve. Know that till the last breathing of my heart, I lived. And I hope to live forever in your memory.

The necklace I gifted you holds a meaning. I knew it deep in me the first moment I saw you that you were my forever love. And I wished with all my heart I lived long enough to grow old with you. But as the latest didn’t happen, I found the right totem to keep our love for the end of times.

The sixteenth note means the union of our souls and the sincere love we held for each other. The eighth note holds the reminder that even though I'm not present, my spirit will always guide you through your dreams, helping you achieve them. Always silently rooting for you in whatever challenge you face. Just like I always did.

No matter what, bet your ass I’m so, so, so proud of you, baby. And I always will. You were my biggest love and I’m forever thankful for you had taken me.

I love you forever. Until we meet again.

Wanda hugged the letter tightly against her chest, silently crying her pain away as she stared numbly at your whereabouts buried three feet underground.

“I’ll love you forever,” she cried, mustering all the love she held for you in those three words, hoping the wind would let you know.

As always, coments and reblogs are appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mitarashi-san

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #requested #my writing

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pocketramblr · 1 year

Note

5 gc game: au where Izuku is Iida's cousin

1- Hiromi Midoriya, Inko's older sister, marries Tenari Iida, and has a son Tensei, who's the pride of the family. When Tensei is six, and Inko is sixteen, her and Hiromi's parents die, leading her to move in with her older sister's family while she finishes high school and gets started in college. That's when Inko decides she wants to have a kid one day too.

2- Inko marries Hisashi and has Izuku, and is delighted when her sister has another kid around the same time too. Little Izuku and Tenya are practically raised together for the first few years with how often they visit each other. But the Iidas... Don't quite love that, not exactly approving of Hisashi, and the gets worse after Izuku is found too be quirkless. They pressure Tenari to pull his family away, and he is convinced and Hiromi unsure if she can stop it- but Tensei, now the star debut hero Ingenium and the future of the family, puts his foot down in defense of his aunt and cousin.

3- Tenya and Izuku do end up around each other less anyway as they end up attending different primary schools- Tenya is sent to an expensive private one that Inko and Hisashi can't afford (and won't let Tensei pay for). But still, they are close, and see each other weekly at least. Tenya was honestly unsure and nervous about Izuku being a hero at first, but Tensei smiled and said that he knows Izuku can do it because he's kind, cool, and smart, and he's seen plenty of different types of heroes at Idaten. Tenya knows Tensei can never be wrong, so obviously Izuku and he can be heroes together!

(and if Tensei was just saying that to make a five year old kid not cry, well. That's his business)

4- Izuku doesn't tell Tenya about the bullying. Tenya doesn't tell Izuku that he wants to be an Idaten hero even if that means they don't work together. That puts some stress on them, but that's mostly what they worry about when on their own, forgetting their troubles when they train together.

Uh. Izuku also does not tell Tenya about OfA, which means the exam goes from excitement that they were in the same zone together to panicked as Tenya's cousin apparently explodes himself

5- the two of them don't hide that they're cousins in class, though neither bring up Tensei or Idaten except with each other. That changes very suddenly after the SF, both flooded with condolences. Izuku's grieving a lot himself, and he's furious at Stain, but he's spent too many years being told he's weak to have the misguided belief that he's strong enough to take him down himself. He knows what Tenya is thinking though, and as soon as he sees him put down "Manual", he panics.

Izuku doesn't even have an offer from Idaten with Tensei in the hospital, but he knows he has to stop Tenya. So he contacts Manual, apologizes, and asks if he could have an internship with his cousin. Manual, somewhere between pushover and people pleaser that he is, agrees.

All Might then shows up with the letter from Gran, and Izuku knows he should focus on OFA but... His cousin needs him. And he already agreed to go to Manual. All Might isn't sure if he feels relief or more stress, and passes that on to Torino.

This has the effect of:

Tenya very upset at his cousin not leaving him alone

Manual relieved that Izuku is not also there for vengeance, which lasts about half an hour until an old hero, Gran Torino, walks into his agency and announces he's here to help train both boys

Manual drags Gran out after the first hour of training to ask him what the hell he's doing, and Gran explains two things: one, he is the single most qualified person to teach Izuku to not blow up his bones, and two, he might also be the single most qualified person to keep Tenya from running out on a suicide vengeance quest, since he had to do that before with an even stronger, pissed off and broken hearted hero student. Manual throws his hands up and decides to roll with it, especially as they can hear Izuku in the other room trying to physically stop Tenya from escaping.

#ask game #oh many thoughts #huh. gran WAS the most qualified for both those kids that week. shame about the nomus throwing a wrench into that #at the beginning of this ask the two are cute children playing heroes and infodumping at each other with much excitement #at the end of this ask they are throwing multiple punches at each other and Izuku is DEFINITELY cussing Tenya out #they love each other equally throughout. cousins :)#no rly this ask made me think about a couple family members which was nice :)#anon #pocket talks to people #long post #oh Hiromi has the kanji for 'large bird' in her name to contrast Inko's 'parakeet'#and she can repel objects where inko attracts them

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sparkypantaloons · 2 years

Text

Quarterback

Willis had been a handsome man once. Tall and broad, with a strong jaw and dark brown eyes. He had a hell of an arm on him, could have been star quarterback if he’d tried. A shoe in for Prom King too. Then life had happened and Gotham on top.

He never meant to be a bad father. But at least he didn't let his son die.

On what would have been Jason's 23rd birthday, he decides to pay Bruce Wayne a visit.

He was smart. Not A-student smart, but he could get solid B’s without too much stress. “If you just tried, you could be looking at Ivy League.” His teachers had told him. “A bit more effort and you’d’ be a straight A student.” Willis could have tried harder.

He didn’t.

He wasn’t a troublemaker. Not really. He got the odd detention, but never enough to be known for it. He was friends with most of his high school class, knew people in most social circles. He was polite and laid back and friendly. “Easy on the eye, easy on the soul.” His first girlfriend’s mom had said.

But high school had been easy. Much easier than home. Willis knew which he preferred.

His old man had been a drunk. Not a mean one, just a sad one. He couldn’t get out of bed most days, much less work. Plagued by nightmares and tears and melancholy.

And his momma had been hard. All bitter edges and cold words. Stuck grieving a man she’d known long ago. Reminded of him every morning, when she woke to his empty shell.

Momma resented Willis. Resented his youth and everything that lay before him, growing taller and stronger each week, whilst her husband wasted away. Resented his easy smile and his broad shoulders, the friends who would call on him. How quickly he was becoming the man his father should have been.

Willis didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault anymore than it was his. She had been dealt a poor hand, no aces up her sleeves to escape the fold. But it dragged on him. Made his soul feel heavy and tired. Like he was wading through tar. “You’ll never amount to anything, just like that man upstairs.” She’d spit at him, as he tried to do his homework. Not able to bear the possibility that he might become what she had so loved in his father.

Willis didn’t blame her. But it was easier not to try, then. Better to be safe, average. He didn’t want her to hate him. It never worked.

He was seventeen when he dropped out of high school. Kissed his old man goodbye before he left, slipped out the kitchen door before momma got home from the store. He hitched a ride from Philadelphia to Gotham, never looked back. Never saw either of them again. Never found out if he made Prom King.

Gotham was different to Philly. It was darker. Colder. Teetering on the edge of an abyss, like the whole city was waiting. Waiting for disaster to fall from the sky, or the ground to swallow them up. Two weeks after Willis arrived, some teenage billionaire who owned half the town went missing. Bruce Wayne presumed dead at 19 said the papers. And not long after, everything went to shit.

Willis had left home with fifty dollars in his pocket. Reached Gotham with only twenty. He worked the docks and the warehouses and the subway tunnels. He’d take jobs on the regeneration projects that would spring up across the city, fronts for money laundering though most of them were, wound up before anyone could realise no buildings would ever materialise. He worked behind bars and on their doors. He drove the buses and the trains and once had a cab share with a friend. But it was never enough. Every month was a choice between food or gas. Electric or water. And just when you thought you were getting somewhere, corruption or crime or the just plain chaos took it away.

Money was tight, and Gotham kept squeezing.

By the time he was twenty four, Willis couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the sun. A friend told him about a job going in Metropolis. Knew a little place by Outlook Park where there was a room share they could stay. South facing. The sun would shine in through their window and they’d be able to sit in the park and enjoy it on their off days. Would have the money to enjoy it, to have off days. LexCorp was offering crazy pay for guys to build their new project. It would be perfect.

Then Willis saw Catherine, and decided maybe the sun could wait.

She was training to be a teacher, she said. A light blush under her freckles, as she sipped from the beer bottle. A small smile on her lips.

For their first date, Willis had taken her up the old clock tower. Still had the keys from the reno project he’d been working, before it had been scrapped.

“What will you teach?” He’d asked, blushing himself when she’d caught him staring.

“Reading.” Catherine had said. “I mean, it’s English really, but I’ll be in primary school, so it’s reading.” She paused. “I just think it’s the best thing we can do for our kids, at least in this city. You know how many kids leave primary school unable to read properly?” She said, suddenly serious. “It’s criminal. I’m volunteering at Blackgate too. Helping some of the residents to read there. Can you imagine never being able to have read Great Expectations, or Catcher in the Rye, or Shakespeare?” There was fire in her eyes. “It’d be enough to turn anyone to crime.”

Being with Catherine made Willis feel like he might be Prom King after all. She was damn smart, and fiery, never willing to back down from a fight for what was right. They moved into a little place over a bodega in what used to be Park Row. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs and for the first time in a long time Willis had thought things were starting to look up.

For a year, Willis lived in a dream. Couldn’t remember life ever being so good, since before even high school. Catherine read to him every night, just a page or so from whatever she was reading at the time, and Willis built them a bed from left over pallets he swiped from the abandoned building sites across Gotham. On Friday’s they would get take out and dance to their elderly neighbour’s violin practice and when it rained they built pillow forts and watched movies. Together they could just about afford the bills. Life was good.

The year Bruce Wayne reappeared in Gotham, Catherine fell pregnant. The same year, Willis had an accident on a job. A broken arm that stopped him working. They needed the money, so Catherine put her studies on pause, picked up shifts at the bodega downstairs, helped make ends meet. A few weeks later she had a fender bender on the way to a baby appointment. Her and the baby were fine, and Willis thanked God everyday for that, but they couldn’t afford to fix the car. Not until he got back to work.

Except work around Gotham was drying up. Wayne was on some social justice crusade, him and his polo club buddy Dent. Shutting down all of the under-the-table jobs that Willis had grown to rely on. He didn’t have a high school diploma and suddenly everyone was asking for one, or wanted two references and a character statement. All Willis had was a string of jobs for a bunch of guys who ended up being crooks.

Catherine was seven months along and they still didn’t have a car. Willis hated the thought of her taking the bus all the way to the hospital, so when a friend mentioned a gig working for Oswald Cobblepot, nothing major, just moving some boxes, Willis agreed.

The money was good, and the work not much different from what Willis had been doing before. It was menial, but it paid. He bought a new car, used, old, and loud as all hell, but it was his. He used it to drive Catherine to the hospital to give birth, the same night that The Batman first appeared in Gotham. Catherine gave birth to a little girl. She came out silent and blue. They named her Marie and drove home without speaking to each other.

In a way that could only ever happen in Gotham, Sheila turned up at their door the following day. Willis barely remembered her. She had worked for Cobblepot too once. They’d been drunk, and Willis didn’t remember even finishing. She didn’t speak when she handed over Jason. She turned on her heel and Willis never saw her again. Catherine didn’t care enough to ask. Just held the tiny baby close to her aching breasts.

Willis remembered holding Jason later that night. A tiny little thing, screaming his tiny little lungs out. A shock of black hair and bright blue eyes. His face red and screwed up, fists flailing. So small, so helpless. Willis had been at sea, in danger of drowning in the swell of love and fear that churned in his gut. This tiny little thing he had made. In this awful city that had been trying to undo him since he arrived.

He’d sworn to himself there and then he’d earn enough money and move them all to Metropolis, like he’d originally planned. Catherine could finish her studies and become a teacher, and he would take Jason out to play ball in Outlook Park, under the sunshine.

A few weeks after Jason was born, Cobblepot got caught by The Batman. A giant freak in black and silk. Willis only just escaped arrest himself. That same week, Willis found Catherine on the roof with the baby, standing on the ledge in her nightdress and slippers.

It took him over an hour to coax her down. She didn’t even look at him when he put her to bed, didn’t see as he watched her with wild eyes, Jason screaming in his arms. Catherine didn’t get up for two months after that. Jason cried the entire time.

Harvey Dent became Two Face and Willis eventually found work with some clown calling himself The Joker. Willis wasn’t averse to breaking the law, God knows Gotham had done it enough. But working for The Joker was different to working for Cobblepot. It was no longer just moving stolen goods, now it was moving bodies.

It weighed on him, what he was doing. He wondered where the bodies were coming from. Why they were being killed. But Willis knew better than to ask. He couldn’t tell Catherine what he was doing. Not that she spoke much those days, but it’d have broken her heart to know what he was doing. So Willis pushed it down, locked all the terrible things he saw and heard in a little box, and buried it in a corner of his soul.

It was a Saturday morning, 4am and the sun already risen when he broke. He’d started the night listening to the screams of some poor fool who pissed off The Joker. Finished it by dissolving their body in a vat of acid.

He was desperate to speak to Catherine, to the same fiery, bright woman he met all those years ago. He wanted her to hold him and read to him, tell him it’d be okay. That they’d move to Metropolis and live in the sun. Instead he got home and she hadn’t left the bed all day. Jason was sat in a soiled nappy, over-filled and stinking of shit. He’d screamed himself hoarse, and cried silently on the kitchen floor.

Willis sank an entire bottle of Jack and then threw it at the wall above the bed. Catherine didn’t flinch. Jason started screaming again.

The Batman was being followed around by some kid in gold and green. The papers were calling him Robin and Catherine was finally speaking again. Jason was two and Willis was no longer working for The Joker but the damage was done. His nightmares were no longer Catherine and the baby on the roof. They were darker, colder, and filled with a hideous laugh.

Two Face paid good money, but it wasn’t enough for therapy. Was barely enough for Catherine’s meds. So Willis drank instead, and if Jason cried too much he’d shut the kid in the closet. Willis didn’t want to lose control around his boy. Better to keep him out the way. Keep him safe. It only took a few months before Jason started taking himself to the closet, shutting himself away once he saw Willis open a bottle.

A few years later, The Batman and his little bird put Two Face away, and Willis was out of work again. Catherine’s meds were expensive, but she said she had a friend who could help her out. Jason was smart, eight years old and sharp as a tack. “He’s gonna be a heart-breaker.” Catherine used to say, when she was half way lucid, looking at their boy the same was she used to look at Willis. Willis couldn’t bear to see it.

Except, then he didn’t have to. Because eventually The Bat caught up to him, The Bat and the little freak who followed him round in the green shorts. Scarecrow’s whole operation was blown wide open and Willis was sent to Blackgate. Three years.

Catherine and Jason visited once. Jason practically dragged her into the visiting hall. Her eyes slid in and out of focus, her smile was lopsided on her face. “You have to help, Willis.” Jason said. He’d never forgotten the closet. Never understood it was for his own good. “She keeps taking the drugs and they cut the power off because we missed the bills.”

Willis couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t help from where he was. Couldn’t stand the sight of his beautiful Catherine, ruined by this beautiful boy and the little girl that never was. “I can’t help you Jason.” Willis snarled. Better the kid learned to fend for himself. “You need to figure this out yourself.”

Willis didn’t see him again. When the Warden came to tell him that Catherine had passed, he didn’t mention Jason. Catherine’s only legal child had died years ago and Willis didn’t ask. Jason was smart. He’d have got himself somewhere safe.

As safe as Wayne Manor, it turned out, and Willis was impressed. Much as he hated Wayne, hated how much worse he made Gotham trying to fix her, at least the guy would keep Jason safe. Keep him warm and fed and in school.

Jason died in Ethiopia before Willis was released.

Willis beat the shit out of his cellmate in a rage. Got another eighteen months added to his sentence.

The night that would have been Jason’s twenty-third birthday, Willis is drinking. He’s a large man these days. Years, in and out of prison, with nothing to do but lift weights and ruminate, he’s muscle and rage and bitterness made human.

He’s half way through a bottle of vodka when he decides that he’ll visit Wayne. A birthday gift to Jason, he tells himself. Wayne was meant to keep him safe, revenge is the least that Willis can offer.

He jacks a car from outside the old bodega he and Catherine used to live above. Winds all the windows down to keep him sharp as he drives. The vodka is warm in his veins.

He thinks about how smug Wayne looked, that first time he took Jason out in that little suit. Eleven years old and the kid dressed like some penguin politician. He grinds his teeth as he thinks of the little brat Wayne adopted to replace Jason, once Willis’ boy was dead. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he thinks of Wayne’s shit eating grin every time he adopts some new kid. And he feels a break in his heart when he thinks that Wayne has never once mentioned Jason since. Has forgotten him, as though he was an old dog.

It doesn’t take Willis long to get to Wayne Manor. Everyone in Gotham knows where it is. Up on the hill above the river, lording it over the common folk, as though it were a palace. In a twist of fate that could only ever happen in Gotham, a pizza delivery guy is pulling out of the gate just as Willis arrives.

He drives through unannounced. The long, dark gravel drive, crunching beneath stolen tyres.

Against a dark sky, The Manor is an even darker silhouette, lights dotted across various windows, shining out into the night. Willis can hear music. It makes his blood burn with rage. A party. On his boy's birthday.

He takes another swig of vodka as he climbs out of the car. Throws the bottle to the ground as he forces the spirit down his throat. Fuck Bruce Wayne. He thinks savagely and before he knows it, he’s pounding on the giant oak door.

“Wayne!” He roars, “Wayne, I know you’re in there you—“

A hand lands on Willis' shoulder and he cuts himself off. Bruce Wayne stands behind him, his fingers pinching ever so slightly into Willis' flesh.

“Let’s go for a walk Willis.” Wayne says. And Willis narrows his eyes. Shrugs off Wayne’s hand.

“You’re piece of fucking work, Wayne.” Willis snarls. “A party? Really?” He stares the other man down. “Do you even know what day it is?”

Wayne inclines his head towards Willis’ car, begins walking away from the porch. Willis follows.

“Aren’t you even go to say anything?” Willis sneers. “My boy, he was my—“

“I know what day it is.” Wayne says once they reach the car. His voice is even, firm.

Willis spits. “Bullshit.” He seethes. “He was just some accessory to you. Then you just replaced him. Like he was just some fucking dog.”

Wayne takes a step closer and Willis isn’t expecting it, he stumbles back against the car.

“I’d think very carefully about what you’ve come here to say, Mr. Todd.” Wayne says, and there’s something in his voice that fills Willis with an old dread. One he can’t quite place. He shoves Wayne back, squares up to him.

“My boy deserved better than you.”

Wayne raises an eyebrow. “Who do you suppose is better than me?” He asks.

Willis swings before he can think about it, let’s out a cry of rage as his fist sails through the air. Wayne side steps it with ease and Willis staggers, falls to one knee. Gravel and stone pressing into bone. He clambers to his feet, turns on Wayne again. “You let him die.” Willis reaches for Wayne with both hands. Wants to grab him by his overpriced jacket, shake him until he’s limp. Beat him bloody for how he failed Jason. But Wayne dodges again, easy as if Willis were a child.

He gives Willis a pitying look. “I’m going to make you an offer, Mr. Todd.” Wayne says. “One grieving father to another.” He ignores the noise of rage in Willis’ throat. “Leave Gotham. Better yet, leave the country. Forget Jason and go. Name your price, I will pay it.”

“You’re not his father. You were never his father.” Willis snarls. “You’re a fucking fraud. Some rich bastard who uses kids like, Jason. You were never good enough for him, you were never his father—“

Something in Wayne snaps and suddenly Willis is pinned against the car, Wayne’s arm across his throat, their faces inches apart. Behind him, Willis can hear the music from the Manor still playing. “Name your price Todd. Leave Gotham. Forget Jason and this city.” Wayne’s voice is a growl, monstrous and feral. “This is a once in a lifetime off—“

“Hey Bruce!” Willis hears a young man’s voice travel across the drive way. There’s something distantly familiar about it. Probably one of the brats Wayne adopted. “B, what’re you doing out here in the dark? It’s meant to be my birthday party.”

Willis watches as something in Wayne’s face changes. He steps back from Willis, but still keeps him pinned in place. He looks over the roof of the car, clears his throat. “Just a sec, son. I forgot to tip the pizza guy.”

Willis hears the front door close and Wayne changes again. Shifting into something menacing and forboding. “What’ll it be Willis?”

“He was my son, I can’t just forget him.” Willis sneers, but it’s half hearted, because he’s suddenly overcome with dread.

“He’s my son.” Wayne says, with a finality that makes Willis shudder. “You’re leaving Gotham tonight. Don’t be fool enough to come back.”

Willis stares at Wayne, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, as a strange and terrible scenario begins to present itself. In the distance he can hear a helicopter. “What happens if I come back?” Willis asks.

Wayne barely blinks. “I’ll have your memories of Jason removed and you’ll live out the rest of your life in Blackgate.”

Willis narrows his eyes, the sound of the helicopter is getting louder. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”

Wayne doesn’t respond and suddenly Willis is desperate.

“Jason’s alive isn’t he? Isn’t he?!”

The helicopter is directly above them now, coming into land, all loud noise and bright light.

“Answer me damn it. Was that him? At the door? He’s my son! Answer me!” Willis shouts over the roar of the blades.

Wayne stares at him impassively. “The chopper will take you to an airfield. Just tell my pilot where you want to go.” He says, only slightly nodding as two large men suddenly grab Willis by each arm, drag him towards the chopper.

“Where is he? What have you done with him? Where is my son?” Willis screams, as the men force him into the helicopter.

Wayne follows, stands at the door. “I know all about what kind of a man you are Willis Todd.” He says. “What kind of a father you were. Do you think Jason didn’t tell me what it was like growing up for him with you? Never knowing how long you’d keep him locked away, or what violence you’d cause when you were drunk?”

Willis wants to fight back. Wayne doesn’t know how hard it was, what it was like back then for the normal people of Gotham, who weren’t born with silver spoon in their mouths and fucking helicopters at their beck and call. But he can’t find the words, and the two larger than life men, hold him in his seat.

“You were never a father to him. Jason was my son, will always be my son.” Then Wayne steps back from the helicopter and nods to the pilot. Willis feels his stomach lurch as they rise into the air, and it’s nothing to do with gravity.

Bruce walks back to the Manor as the chopper rises into the sky, sends a text to the security firm employed by Wayne Enterprises. Tells them to come and collect the car in his driveway.

It's not like he's proud of himself. Threatening Willis. Bruce wouldn't have Jason if not for him, afterall. And Bruce knows he himself, isn't perfect. He knows there are times he's let Jason down. But God he loves that kid more than the world. And despite how often the Red Hood has tried to prove otherwise, Jason is far too forgiving. Far too kind to face Willis and not give him another chance.

Bruce has already put Jason back together once, after a life with Willis. Has already heard the horror stories of being locked in a closet for days at a time. Of Jason crying himself to sleep because Catherine was too high and Willis too drunk to feed him.

Bruce won't let that happen again. Willis doesn't deserve a second chance. Not with Jason.

When he gets back through the front door, Jason and Tim are in the foyer, bickering about something or other. Music form the library drifts through the door ways.

“B, what have you been doing?” Tim implores, elbowing past Jason and shoving another canapé into his mouth. “You’ve been gone ages.” He says, crumbs flying everywhere.

“The pizza guy was telling me about how his Grandma is sick over in Metropolis. I was convincing his boss to give him the rest of the night off. Had the chopper fly him over there.”

Jason rolls his eyes. A birthday hat sits at an angle atop his head. “Can we get back to the party now? You’re the one who wanted this stupid thing anyway.”

Bruce grins, puts an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Of course son, anything for you.”

#batfam #batfam fic #batfamily #spbfic #batfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #willis todd #catherine todd #daddy issues

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gamesception · 10 months

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lets read rgu, chapter 22

Just kissed, eh? I wasn't sure if the next chapter would imply that more had happened between Utena and Akio that night. And here's Utena dreaming fitfully about it, while Anthy just sits up awake in bed watching her. I don't have much to say about it other than the whole situations just kind of sad.

But Anthy doesn't just sit up and watch utena, she gets out of bed and goes to her while utena is sleeping, lying with her and crying quietly. It's a very tender, intimate moment.

And in that moment, Utena stops thinking about Akio, and instead only thinks about how she wants to protect Anthy.

Which calls to mind the anime's version of young Utena meeting the prince. First we see that she was grieving her parents death, and the prince appeared to her and made her feel better and inspired her to become a prince herself so that she could help others the way he had helped her. But then later on we get the further reveal that she hadn't just been grieving her parents, she was experiencing an existential crisis in the face of their death, that if everything ends and everyone dies then she couldn't see the value of living at all, and that young Saionji and Touga had found her and tried to cheer her up, as the prince had in the earlier version, but they had failed because they couldn't show her something 'eternal', so the prince can't have just comforted her, he must have shown her something as well. And finally we get the reveal that the eternal thing that Akio/Dios had shown Utena was Anthy herself, as the rose bride, suffering eternally. Utena had shaken off her grief and committed to becoming a prince not just to save girls in general, but to save Anthy specifically. Retroactively everything anime Utena had done was for Anthy's sake, even before she met her at the school, that her inspiration had never really been Akio/Dios, but rather Anthy the whole time, even if she had forgotten.

Kind of a funny case because this is the 90s, so the show can't be too overtly gay - sad tragic lesbians like Juri, sure, but not main protagonists who get the girl and the happy ending. Utena could never just say flat out "I love you, I want to be your girlfriend, lets go make out about it", so instead it's "You are everything to me, I have literally lived my entire life for your sake," which is way, way more gay.

The manga can't do the same reveal, due to the change to the childhood story. There's too much detail in the manga version to go back and retcon everything with new details the same way, but this moment, showing how Anthy's presence drives all thoughts of Akio from Utena's head, leaving her with just the desire to save Anthy, or the earlier bit from when Utena told Wakaba that being around Anthy made her feel calm & at peace, it goes a long way towards conveying that feeling & motivation, it gets across the idea that for all the attention put on Utena and Touga or Utena and Akio, the person she really wants to be with is Anthy, even if she hasn't fully realized that herself yet, & even if the story isn't allowed to say that in as many words.

The next day Anthy's mask is back on, but Utena is blushing just looking at her. Look how cute they are. Akio needs to go to jail so they can just be happy together.

Imagine if he had been caught on security camera setting the fire at Wakaba's dorm. Akio goes to jail, the whole Dios ritual just... doesn't happen. Utena and Anthy move in together, Touga becomes their butler, happy endings for everybody.

But inevitably Utena's thoughts drift back to Akio. I do kind of love how all her previous antagonists in the Student Council just sort of follow her around like ducklings now. Have I mentioned that already? Probably, but it's still funny. The anime couldn't really do that, because they had to stay at arms length in order to repeat and deepen their conflicts with Utena for the second and third arcs of the show, but it would have been fun to see.

The SC kind of gossip about Utena a bit, and Juri mentions that she had been spending time with Akio, which Touga reacts to. Does Touga know who Akio is? That seems like the kind of information that a good butler/squire/servant/acolyte would have shared earlier if he did know.

Utena catches sight of Akio's car but before she can run off looking for him Touga grabs her aside, demanding to know if Akio has 'done something' to her.

I'm sorry, but... what about this situation called for a forced kiss? What was that even supposed to accomplish? Like, it feels like such a non-sequitur that I'm not even questioning the character here, I'm questioning the author. What was the point of this?

And after that, he just tells her about Akio? Which, like, I still don't get why he thought it was a good idea to forcibly kiss her first, and also why he didn't tell her this, like, a while ago.

And Utena has this big crashing realization, as Touga talks about how he was manipulated, and Utena realizes her feelings for Akio were probably just manipulation too, but then her thoughts again turn to Anthy.

We haven't had the chance to see Anthy's motivations and feelings so much yet, but I do appreciate the repeated emphasis on Utenas feelings for Anthy.

That night Akio & Anthy show up in his car...

Akio invites Utena to get in, and tells Anthy to leave. Utena tells Anthy to stay, but Akio drives off without her.

So Akio admits to being world's end, and organizing the duels, manipulating everyone, even flat out being evil.

But he insists that he hasn't forced Anthy to do anything, that she wants to be the Rose Bride.

Utena knows he's lying, but he just keeps talking, and driving, and...

And you'd think all of this would put Utena off, like convince her that he's a monster and she needs to get away from him, or fight him. That she needs to save Anthy specifically from Akio and stop furthering his plans, but....

I guess grooming is a hell of a drug.

Kind of feels awkward for Utena to be going along with Akio after finding out he's the self-admitted villain, but that's what we're doing.

#rgu #revolutionary girl utena #sception reads rgu

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dollythesheepp · 1 year

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Veronica- Chapter 10

Ao3

Dear Westerburg... You may find what I've done shocking ...

Instead of more details about Veronica's fight with her friend Heather, or lovestruck ramblings about JD, all Betty found when she turned the page were scratched out words, written in a different handwriting than the one she had become accustomed; the phrase occupied one line, and there was nothing else written on it. Betty furrowed her brows and turned the page.

Dear world... No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings.

Same thing. The sentences looked like drafts, as if Veronica was writing a letter and she just couldn't find the right words. What did she do that was so shocking?

Expecting another entry like that, Betty turned the page again, this time staring at Veronica's usual welcome in her messy, barely readable handwriting.

September 24th, 1989. Dear diary...

FUCK!

The single word was written in big, block letters, and it took over three whole lines on the page. Betty chuckled, finding that specific entry funny and very teenage like. She stopped chuckling when she got to the next paragraphs.

Dear diary...

I might as well stop sending my applications to ivy league colleges now, as I'm sure the only place I'll be attending next year will be San Quentin.

I can't believe I actually did that. I just killed my best friend (and my worst enemy, but there's a fine line between those two, as I've come to learn.)

It's been three hours, and I still haven't come to terms with it. Because how exactly do you process something like that? I'm sitting in my room, jumping at every noise my parents make downstairs , just waiting for the moment the police will come knocking on my door.

I can't talk to anyone, not Mom and Dad, not the Heathers (the ones that are still standing, anyway), and not even my freaking therapist. You're the only one I trust now.

What the fuck have I done?

Betty only realized her mouth was open when she started to feel her tongue dry; she closed it and blinked rapidly, snapping out of her shock. She adjusted her glasses on her face, and read everything again, to make sure her myopia hadn't somehow distorted Veronica's words and made them seem like something entirely different than what was in fact written.

That had to be a joke, right? Some sort of dare. Or perhaps Veronica was speaking in metaphors and hadn't actually meant killing her friend in the literal way.

Betty turned the page.

September 25th, 1989 Dear diary...

Heather Chandler's death has wreaked havoc throughout Westurburg. The student body is in shambles now that they've lost their queen.

Heather McNamara can't stop crying (in the moments when she isn't sucking face with Kurt Kelly or complaining about how unfair it is that we only got half a day off from school. Everyone grieves in their own way, I suppose..), Heather Duke has suddenly lost her urge to purge now that Chandler isn't here to comment on every calorie she ingests, Peter Dawson is bragging to everyone about how he was one of the last people to go on a date with the recently deceased Heather and Miss Fleming is in some weird sort of power trip, as if Heather's death awakened in her a need to change the world by forcing teenagers to talk about their feelings.

And me...well, I know that I rambled on about wanting to kill Heather, but I did not plan this. It's one thing to wish someone was dead and it's another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.

Having said that...If I had the chance to go back in time and undo what I did, I'm not sure I would have changed anything .

Betty blinked, her shock preventing her from expressing any other reaction. She closed the diary as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat and went to bed, finding herself unable to keep reading more.

That night, she didn't sleep.

***

Once the first rays of sunshine started to light up the guest room, Betty gave up on trying to sleep, after restless hours of tossing and turning all night. She stayed in bed, clutching her comforter and staring at the ceiling with a hundred thoughts running amok inside her head, and got up a few minutes after Martha arrived at 8:30; JD woke up shortly after, walking down the stairs already dressed for work.

As usual, Betty found herself in the routine she had established during her stay. She had breakfast, alone this time because JD was late for work and left with an empty stomach and a thermos full of coffee, then she went to the office to work. Seating in front of the computer, Betty couldn't keep her eyes off of the window, where she could see Veronica in the backyard with Martha. They were enjoying the sun as they usually did at that time because Betty wasn't the only one with a routine there.

As a matter of fact, most days in the Sawyer-Dean residence felt exactly the same, like they were all characters in a movie that was being played over and over again. JD would leave for work, Martha would take Veronica outside for a couple of hours and would read her a book or talk to her, then she was fed, cleaned, and Martha would put her back in bed and turn on the TV for her until it was time for her to go to sleep. Sometimes JD would take Veronica downstairs, once he got home, and he'd tell her about her day, other times he would go to her room and stay there with her for hours.

Betty couldn't help thinking about how she would feel in Veronica's position. How draining it must feel to be stuck in that repetitive pattern for the rest of her life. With that thought in her head, she got up and closed the curtains; she didn't want to think about Veronica.

She tried to focus on her job, but the words written in Veronica's diary kept coming back to her every time she closed her eyes. Veronica had killed someone. And according to what she wrote, she didn't feel sorry. Shocked maybe, and scared of getting caught and ruining her life, but she showed no signs of selfless remorse for ending the life of a seventeen year old girl who she had once called a friend.

Did JD know about that? Betty couldn't help but think that God certainly did, and that was why Veronica's life had turned out the way it did. Commeupance comes one way or another.

***

Eventually, Betty managed to forget about the diary for a few hours, her desire to finish her job serving as motivation for her to work faster. With the curtains closed, she didn't feel the hours go by, nor the sun go down until JD knocked on her door.

"Hey," he poked his head inside the office. "Just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm good, thanks," she smiled. She glanced at the swatch on her wrist. It was 6:15 p.m. "You're home early today."

JD fully entered the room, leaving the door slightly ajar after he passed. He gave a shrug. "Yeah, I managed to finish some things earlier," he said. "Do you like pasta? I know it's early but I'm starving."

"Same," Betty said. She managed to get through the day with three cups of coffee and one cereal bar, completely forgetting about lunch. "And pasta sounds great."

She followed JD to the kitchen, and she settled down on one of the chairs to watch JD cook. As always, he refused to let her help but after some insistence, he conceded and let her make the salad while he took care of the rest.

"Do you know what I realized?" JD spoke up after the two of them had finished eating. They were seated in the living room, a soccer game playing on the TV, while they rested from eating what felt like enough spaghetti to feed all of Italy.

"What?" Betty asked from her spot on the armchair. She had opted to not seat on the couch with JD; she didn't know how she would feel knowing that he was that close to her and she didn't want to find out. The daydreams and the indecent thoughts were enough. IItwasnt even because of Martha, she had left earlier that day, but even so, Betty thought it was best to put some boundaries out of respect for JD.

"I talk so much about myself but I barely know anything about you," JD said. It was true, JD did talk a lot about himself but only because Betty asked a lot of questions, she didn't like being the center of attention and she enjoyed getting to know him, so it was always a win-win.

"There's isn't much to know," she said. "I don't have any interesting stories or anything like that."

"Just tell me anything. Where did you grow up?"

"Cleveland," she said. "And you just did the typical 'Oh, I'm so sorry for you' expression I normally get when I say that."

JD laughed. "There are worse places if that makes you feel better."

Betty knew that Veronica had also been born in Ohio, in a small town called Sherwood but she was glad JD mention that; she didn't want to think about Veronica.

"Maybe a little."

"Good," he chuckled. "Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?"

"No, at first I wanted to be a doctor but I think that was just because every mom wants that for their kid, including mine," she said. "But I'm very squeamish when it comes to blood and all of that, so I changed my mind when I was like 10."

"And how old are you now?"

"Hm," Betty pursed her lips. She looked down at her watch again, the numbers indicating it was 11:45 p.m. She chuckled. "You're not going to believe this..."

"What?" he asked curiously.

"I'm turning 30 in 15 minutes."

JD's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he said again. "Really?"

"Yep."

"What a crappy way to spend your birthday, with people you don't know and having to work all day," he said, giving her a sympathetic look.

"I've had worst birthdays," she shrugged.

"Stay right here," JD got up from the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to bake you a birthday cake," he said, already raiding the cabinets to get the ingredients.

"You don't have to do that, it's so late..."

"No, I insist. What kind of birthday doesn't have a cake?" he argued. "Just watch some tv, I'll be done before you know it."

"No way, I have to see that," Betty got up to follow him into the kitchen, unable to contain her smile. That was by far one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her.

50 minutes later JD placed a chocolate cake in front of her. He cut one slice for her and one for himself. The entire kitchen had been invaded by that delicious smell of freshly baked cake.

"This is really good," Betty said, after swallowing another big piece.

"I'll tell you the secret one day," he gave her a playful wink. "There's hm...there's some frosting on your face."

Automatically she placed her fingers on her face. "Here?" she asked.

"No, right here..." he leaned in closer, and gently put his thumb on the corner of her lips. He kept his finger pressed on her mouth for a second too long like he didn't want to let go. He was close, close enough that she could feel his breath on hers and smell his perfume.

Part of Betty was yelling for her to step aside, and get as far away from JD as possible before any of them could get hurt. Betty didn't listen. Instead, she ended the distance between them with a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate. At first, she thought JD would stop her, or pull away but he didn't. Betty was the one to initiate the kiss but JD was the one who took full control. And she allowed him because it felt so good.

It started slowly, but quickly things became intense, desperate. They both wanted it. She felt his hands running wild through her hips, her legs, her hair. Their lips were still touching, his tongue inside her mouth, her heart palpitating inside chest.

His kisses were exactly how Betty had imagined: explosive, ferocious, dangerous. And wrong. So wrong. But at that moment, neither of them seemed to care. It didn't matter that the hand fumbling with her shirt, desperate to yank it off, was the same hand that he wore his wedding ring, or that his wife was on the floor above. None of it mattered because it felt so right. And it felt so good.

She was thankful that Martha wasn't there anymore, otherwise, she would have heard them as they fiercely tried to quench their needs with each other.

Enthralled by it all, Betty didn't plan on stopping with just a kiss. She wanted more. And she probably would have gotten that, if it wasn't for the sound of something shattering on the second floor.

The noise startled the two of them, who broke apart instantly. JD looked at her, panting and his face red, with lipgloss smeared all over his face, and furrowed his brows, confused. A second later he was racing up the stairs in worry, Betty behind him.

He opened the door to Veronica's room and rushed inside, turning on the lights. He was still panting, but something inside Betty made her beloved that it was out of worry for Veronica's wellbeing, and not out of euphoria from the moment they had in the kitchen. And for a second she felt jealous of JD's invalid wife.

Veronica, as expected, was in bed. Her eyes were closed, it looked like she had been none the wiser about the whole commotion. How was it possible that the noise or JD storming inside her room didn't wake her up? Betty supposed she could be groggy from all of the medications she had to take, but still, she thought it was weird.

"Shit," JD's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she stopped staring at Veronica to look at him. On the floor, next to the window was a shattered vase, dozens of pieces, small and big, scattered all over the carpet.

"Did it fall on its own? How?" Betty wondered aloud, more to herself than to him.

"The window is open, it must have been the wind," he said. "Martha probably forgot to close it."

He tiptoed on the floor, trying to avoid stepping on the pieces of broken porcelain, and closed the window, making sure that it was locked this time.

Betty glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed. Veronica looked so peaceful, so fragile. She never would have guessed that Veronica had killed someone.

Betty swallowed the lump in her throat. "You're right, it must have been the wind..."

#heathers #heathers the musical #betty finn #veronica sawyer #jason dean #heather mcnamara #heather duke #heather chandler #jdonica

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lun2523 · 8 months

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Regarding Uvalde, My Thoughts.

Hello, no one here knows me, or at least none of you should. Its been over a year since one of the most traumatic events of my life happened. It was a Tuesday and school was set to let out that Thursday, the seniors from the local high school were doing mini parades around every school in the district. Earlier that day they had walked around our school, when it happened I was in Spanish class, our actual teacher was out with the Spanish club in San Antonio for a club field trip. It was a normal day, there had been a walkout in protest of something that is now so unremarkable that I no longer remember.

I didn't have the district issued I-Pad that was handed out to everyone in the district with me that day, my friend was the first sign that something was wrong. She received a phone call from her father, who got the news from his brother, her uncle, I didn't hear what he said to her, but from the look on her face it wasn't good.

There was a district wide email sent out to everyone calling for a district wide lockout, it differs from a lockdown in that its business as usual but you confirm that the door(s) are locked. That day we had a substitute teacher, she wasn't able to lock the door. The news slowly trickled in, I bounced from one person to another asking for any information they had, any news.

One person was in a group chat that received a video of the man entering the backdoor of Robb shot from someone inside their car.

Someone said he shot his grandmother in the face.

Another said he crashed his truck into a ditch and that Robb was his intended destination.

Someone said there was a shooter at the high school and that it was a coordinated attack.

All we knew that day was that something horrible and life changing was happening, and there was nothing we could do besides sit and wait.

Have any of you have a memory so traumatic that you feel certain parts of it are burned into your brain? Its like that with exiting the school, we were the first class escorted out of Morales Junior High, i was the third out of the building. Some man from the Sheriffs office pointed a gun at us, demanded we put our hands on top of our head and be lead single file out of the school. I was so scared, but I hadnt shed any tears yet, I think it was the shock.

There were parents lined up on the other side of the street craning their heads and yelling, there was a police barricade preventing them from getting into the school. I had to borrow a phone from a sheriff to call my dad since I couldn't see him anywhere. It was borderline chaos but all I cared about was getting to my dad, when I found him, he hugged me. His dog, Whiskey, cuddled into my lap while cried in his work truck, he took me home.

You know, a lot of things went through my mind following Robb, but the most prominent one was this- 'Your thoughts and prayers do nothing' I hate people who dare to use this tragedy to garner something for themselves and only themselves, i grieve for the children who cowered in those classrooms while that madman killed their friends and family.

My friend has a sister who was supposed to be in one of those classrooms that day, it was horrible watching her cry out, relieved, that her sister wasn't dead

I despise the people who try to use this event for selfish reasons.

I lost a part of me that day, I think most people in Uvalde did that day, most don't understand the feeling and thoughts that come from that event and I feel disgust for people that wish an event like this happens to them or anyone they know.

Its not a joke and I'm sick of keeping quiet about it.

For Uvalde

For Victims

For America

#gun violence #school shooting #uvalde #robb elementary #my experiences #gun control #gun crime #violence #essay writing #Your Thoughts And Prayers Do Nothing #thoughts and prayers

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therubyreader · 9 months

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My Review of Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

See a full list of my book reviews here

*Disclaimer: there will be spoilers later on in the review*

Review Word Count, non-spoiler: 824 Review Word Count Total: 1,432

So, I caved. After seeing all the hype that Legendborn was getting both on here and on TikTok I was finally convinced to read it despite the fact that I’m not a fan of Arthurian legends or really anything medieval for that matter and honestly, it does live up to the hype. Especially if you’re like me, and were weirdly obsessed with that Disney Channel movie, Avalon High, back in the day, this book has the same exact vibes and a very similar premise. Also, sidenote, I was Googling the movie to make sure I was remembering the title correctly, I found out it was originally a book written by Meg Cabot, aka the author of The Princess Diaries, so do with that information what you will.

The book introduces us to Bree Matthews, a 16-year-old girl grieving the loss of her mother after she died in a tragic car accident. Her grief drives her away from home and to UNC-Chapel Hill, a university that has an early college program for promising high school students. On her first night there, she witnesses a flying demon that feeds on human energy get taken down by a group of teenagers, called Legendborn (roll credits), decedents of the knights of King Arthur with incredible abilities. When one of the teenagers, a Merlin, tries to wipe her memory of the night and it doesn’t work, Bree remembers this same magic was used on her the night her mother died. Realizing that there is more to her mother’s death than what she was originally led to believe, she infiltrates the Legendborn society on campus with the help of Nick, a self-exiled Legendborn, as they discover the secrets of the society while on the brink of a magical war between the demons and Legendborn.

Like I said earlier, this book is great, definitely worth the hype it’s getting, it’s a great modern interpretation of Arthurian legends with a good amount of diversity that is treated respectfully and realistically. Of course, the most obvious one is Bree, a black girl, who is not only going through this magical adventure but being black and navigating the world and the magical adventure. Not to give too much away outside of the spoiler section but Bree’s background and the history of black people as a whole in the US is a big part of the plot and Bree’s journey which I think is beautiful. As a non-black POC I think that part of Bree’s story was done so well, and I can really sympathize with her despite not being able to explicitly relate. There’s also a nonbinary character in the book named Greer and I honestly didn’t fully realize they were nonbinary because they were so seamlessly integrated into the story that I didn’t bat an eye at the use of they/them pronouns. And there are also queer characters who are unapologetically queer, and happy, and just being people, their identities are very much a part of their character but not their whole character.

And, for being the author’s debut novel, it honestly isn’t written like one, the writing is good and easy to follow so you become immersed in the world very easily. I will say the prologue is written a bit like a 2010s, Wattpad story and some of the rest of the book has the same vibes from time to time but it honestly isn’t a big deterrent. I will though, complain about the love triangle because I hate almost all love triangles and think they’re bad. I might’ve said this before, but I think most love triangles are a cheap way to make your plot more exciting (which this book did not need at all, it’s exciting enough as is) especially when one of the potential partners is a genuinely nice person and the other one is very obviously a POS. Honestly, the whole book could’ve done without it, the writing and story were compelling enough to where a love triangle wasn’t needed to fill in any spots that were lacking and I was going to talk more about why I specifically don’t like certain characters as love interests but I noticed that this fandom is violent about shipping so I will keep it to myself.

Overall, I do recommend the book to anyone who’s looking for a fresh take on Arthurian legends or YA fiction and can stomach your standard amount of blood and violence. There are descriptions of violence experienced by slaves and general racism so be warned. Besides the aforementioned love triangle beef I have, and the fact that there is some Welsh that doesn’t get translated into English which was a pet peeve of mine even more so now that I have made a Welsh friend after I returned the book to the library, so I’ll just never know. I will give this book an it’s very good and worth all the hype out of ten.

Spoilers Below!!

Ok, let’s talk a little bit about the love triangle. I will preface this with the fact that Bree is 16 and hasn’t really experienced any romantic attention up until this point so she’s acting how a regular 16-year-old would act in that situation, and I know full well that 16-year-old me wouldn’t have been any smarter. That being said, I honestly think that Sel is a bad choice based on his actions in this book alone (yes, I have read the second one but I’m not going to talk about it here). This man literally spent the majority of the book trying to kill her and sent literal demons after her, but they slow danced once, and he called her “cariad” now y’all are foaming at the mouth. This isn’t hate towards Sel as a character, mostly, but like, come on. That’s all I’m saying because this fandom is violent, and I like living.

Moving on to things that don’t make me mad! Let’s just take a moment to appreciate Bree’s root. I absolutely loved how the author wove in traditional African and African American spiritual practices into a world where the knights of the roundtable were magical beings and the contrast, chef’s kiss. We have root where the users give back the magic they use, make offerings, and talk to their ancestors regularly versus aether which is just taken. There is a great metaphor here about colonialism and world history as a whole, but I’m not going to go deep into that and get too radical in a book review so I’m going to let you all just think on it.

Another thing I really liked about the book was how real the characters felt, all of them were unique individuals with distinct personalities and motivations. Not all the characters were necessarily good people, some were honestly horrible and evil, but you can understand where they’re coming from even if you don’t agree, a la “cool motive, still murder”. I did like that in the story the villain wasn’t evil just because, he had a reason to want to be evil, but it honestly made for a more enjoyable story especially when you contrast Nick’s dad with the demons who are evil just because. Also, just a side note on Mr. Davis being the villain all along, that was so unexpected but made so much sense when he explained his evil plan, I think it was a fun surprise that I hadn’t predicted in the beginning.

Of course, I have to talk about the twist at the end where it turns out that Bree is Arthur’s scion and not Nick, mind blowing. There’s something, I don’t know how to describe it, but karmatic about a black girl being the king of the round table after her ancestor was raped by the scion of Arthur all those years ago. That old slave owner couldn’t have ever predicted that his disgusting actions would one day see a black girl as the head of his secret organization, so take that horrible man. On top of that, the organization as a whole is pretty racist, just the way that it’s all white and how they treat Bree and Sarah’s dad, so double take that racists, a black girl is your king.

Moral of the story, read this book for a YA adventure mixed with serious real-world topics and a lovable cast of characters. Everyone who is hyping this book online is correct and I highly recommend getting your hands on a copy especially since there are rumors that the last book in the series will be released sometime next year.

#val's book reviews #legendborn #legendborn cycle #the legendborn cycle #tracy deonn

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absintheandtextbooks · 2 years

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Message in a Bottle part 1

Theo Dimas and Mabel Mora AU (I’d call it a penpals Au?)

Content: grave robbing (let me know if there’s a warning I should add that I forgot)

2011 - April

Theo hated working at the funeral home. He didn’t mind the bodies so much it was the despair all around that made it difficult. The bodies were understanding, silent, and nonjudgmental. Their mourners though were a different story. They wailed and moaned and snapped at everyone around them. Theo understood they were grieving but he felt one should grieve in silence - call out to whatever you hoped for beyond in your head. He certainly did. Every day for the past 3 and a half months. He talked to Zoe in his mind. She laughed at his jokes about the mortuary tools. Or the mourners fighting over some sliver of a will. She talked to him when he felt alone - like a shut in in his own home. She died in his nightmares every night and in his worst moments said he killed her and in his best said he might not have. Theo knew he needed to stop talking to her. But in the meantime it didn’t do any major harm. It was certainly better talking to her in his head than going crazy. He was still shocked they just left him to work. He was still young. Too young to be doing this every day. Not that it mattered to his father.

In sitting with death every day Theo had learned a few things. Firstly, he was definitely going to have a closed casket or be cremated. Secondly, everything at a funeral was expensive. Thirdly, the families were too scared of death. Theo was also scared of death but more because he knew his father and by extension him fed on the sentimentality and lack of oversight families had in the case of a family death. The bodies were safe. He sat with them, treated them as people. He signed to them while he worked and apologized profusely when he stole from them. He listened to families fight about whether to put grandma’s earrings or grandpa’s watch in with them and silently pleaded for them not to.

As he worked, gently pulling the gold molars out of a mouth, he considered his situation distantly. He had no friends. Arguably was spending every free hour grave robbing and was a middling student. He had no friends barring his father and few hobbies besides drawing little comics in the margins of the books he read. He realized he needed to talk to people - anyone - his age.

When he got off work he made a few brief searches and found a program for teens/young adults to be pen pals. Not necessarily his best idea but he certainly didn’t think it would be his worst. He filled out the form and set up an email completely unrelated to his fathers. He wanted to be someone else. Anyone else. He sent in the paperwork and went to bed. Eagerly awaiting the first email from the person he matched with.

~~~~~~

Mabel sat in her room at home, her paints all around her. She had almost finished the wall in her room and was planning a tree and a patterned wallpaper. She absently rested her pencil in her sketchbook, dissociating until she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“Mabel,” her mother did gently, “have you thought about what might be helpful?”

She heard her mother rest her hand on the door and she bundled herself up in a blanket her aunt had knitted, coming to rest with her back against the door. “I’ve thought a bit about it.”

“Do you have anything you want to try?”

Mabel pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping the blanket over her head, cocooning herself in the wool. “I don’t want to see anyone yet. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Sweetheart it’s been months. We can’t keep doing school and everything like this.”

Mabel buried herself further in the blanket and stood, letting her mother into the room and sinking back down to the floor surrounded by her paints and sketches. Mabel’s mother perched precariously on the corner of her bed.

“The art is looking nice sweetheart.”

Mabel nodded her thanks.

“Have you considered the pen pal program?”

“I don’t need to have a random penpal!”

Her mom shifted to sit by her, putting her arms out for a hug. Mabel shifted into them. “I think you might want to consider it seriously. I miss seeing you smile. You can’t hole up in here forever. I think having someone to write to might help you ease back into socialization.”

Mabel sad and considered, wiping at the tears that had begun welling in her eyes. “I just miss Zoe! I miss them all so much!”

“I’ll send you the link.”

Her mother gave her another big hug and stood, leaving the bundled up Mabel amongst her sketchbooks and paint.

Mabel waited until her phone lit up with the link and she set up an account, thanking her lucky stars that her email was from when she was young and didn’t have her name at all. She didn’t want people to guess who she was. She ticked the box for local-ish penpals and waited to see who she was paired with.

2011- May

Mabel woke wary to her phone buzzing. She sat bolt upright when she saw the email in her inbox. It was subjected “You’ve matched with a penpal!” She nervously opened the email to see an autogenerated message with an email: “[email protected]”

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. She began typing.

“Dear bookworm.

Nice to meet you! I hope you’re doing well. Maybe we should try get to know each other questions or something. Ya know. Favorite color? Favorite food? What silly thing scares you? Any hobbies? Favorite season? We could go through a lot of favorite things. Anyway. Hope to hear from you soon!!!”

~~~~~~

Theo woke up to two emails floating in his mailbox. As he brushed his teeth he read them both. The first was from the penpal service giving his penpals email as “[email protected]”. The other email was from his penpal. He opened it eagerly.

Whoever it was seemed scattered but hesitantly excited. They asked him questions he promptly answered: blue, halva (or really most sweet things), silverfish, reading, and winter (I like sweaters a lot).

He finished brushing his teeth as he sent the email to “mysterypainter” and headed to school, getting ready for a very long day ahead.

2012 - May

A year later and they were still emailing. Pretty constantly but Mabel was hearing less and less about bookworm’s actual day to day life. She had started art school and loved every minute but still get disconnected from her classmates - at odds with these people who had lived seemingly normal lives. She still enjoyed hanging out but struggled to connect. Her portfolio had become a dark gnarled mess. She painted out her feelings and startlingly realistic portraits and the subject matter helped her get out of her head. She could put on a podcast or music and just paint. She listened to a lot of slow heavy music, letting the lyrics move her brush and the bass tint her art in shades of blue and purple. Occasionally she’d send bookworm pictures of paintings she particularly liked. They always replied with questions, especially when they learned she painted to music, diligently asking what she had listened to or what she was thinking about. In turn they’d send her short stories and poems back. Soon she started a small series of paintings to the poems they sent. Stockpiling them. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to send them. Part of her wondered if it was because she wanted to show them to bookworm in person.

~~~~~~

Theo didn’t know why he kept up the messages with the painter. His dad had him working constantly. He had grown unsettlingly accustomed to dealing with the dead. He felt less and less with each body that reached his table. The jewels didn’t even mean much anymore. Their glimmering looked like paste regardless of how finely they were crafted. He still tried to humanize them. Signing to them. Thinking about their lives. It was a way to hold on. But he feared letting go of even that. Eventually he’d be numb to it. So in his free time he read. Extensively. Any book he could get his hands on. On the painters recommendation he read through all the Nancy Drew and Hardy boys books. He read old plays he found and poetry. He liked the rhythm of the words and the expressiveness of the poet on paper. The painted recommended other mysteries as well, the Flavia deLuce series and the no.1 Ladies detective agency. He liked reading about the thief or murderer getting caught. In what he thought of as his weaker moments he thought about his father getting caught and him getting dragged down with him. The truly sad part is he didn’t see much of a problem with that.

New Years 2015

Theo looked up at the night as he left the funeral home. It was dark. The air seemed to have the energy of New Years eve but he felt none of it. As he looked around at the dead streets in this part of town he completely stopped and sat down on the front stoop of the funeral home. He had absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go. His father was running a dinner for close advisors and investors he wasn’t invited to and his handful of acquaintances his age were home over Christmas break from studying in New York. They would be graduating soon and wanted to spend every second they could with family. His emails with painter were getting more and more sparse. For some reason he opened his email and started a draft. He stared at the streetlight nearest him. It shone gold and there was a light dusting of snow beginning to fall. He addressed the email to the painter and for no apparent reason began to write. He sat there in the cold for near an hour writing and when he finally came to it was near midnight. He glanced at it once and then pressed his icy fingertip to the send button. Tucking his phone and hands into his pockets he began the trek home.

~~~~~~

Mabel received the message while she was home. After the incident her family kept New Years very low key. She was sitting curled on the couch next to her mother working on a pint of ice cream and some halva from a nearby bakery. Years ago when she had gotten the first email from bookworm she had tried them and at this point she didn’t even associate them fully with the messages. They were a comfort food all their own. She was getting over a breakup. She had dated the girl for almost a year before they finally split a couple of days before Christmas. She was working on trying to not completely associate the Christmas season with heartbreak and trauma but here she was. Her mom got up from the couch to switch on some soft music and her phone buzzed. She wondered if it was someone from school. She was looking forward to graduating but didn’t really know how many people would actually stay in touch after that. She had tried making friends and had made a few but not many. After a moment she flipped the phone over to read the notification. She stifled an eyebrow raise when she saw it was an email from bookworm. And not a very long one at that. She opened it hesitantly her eyes skating across the message. It was a poem. Her fingers itched to paint at their words. And they had signed it differently this time. It didn’t say bookworm. It was signed Orpheus. She closed her eyes, switching her phone off and turned the name over and over in her head. Why that name. She was sure there was some irony to it but not sure what. But quickly her mind drifted from the name to the painting she was thinking about for the poem and then even those glancing colors faded to sleep.

2019 - January

Theo had gone entirely numb to the whole business as expected. The bodies were bodies. There wasn’t anything human about them at all in his expert opinion. The embalmed cadavers sat waxy and glassy eyed. He had grown tired of learning to place eye caps and position mouthes after he’d taken teeth. He watched the other funeral home members work and felt completely divided from them. Some of them talked to the dead, moving them gently and giving them dignity others worked with efficiency to show their respect. Hw had long since stopped. His job was to rob them of that dignity on their path to the grave. Nothing he signed or did would change that he was desecrating them. And there wasn’t really anything he could do about it. Though the work at the funeral home was bleak the other options felt worse to him somehow. He resented picking up shifts at the delis, wearing his father’s company logo on his apron and hat as he grinned at people like a broken doll from behind the counter. The people didn’t want to speak at him. They just muttered instructions to the person manning the till and he executed orders. It was bleak. Thankfully after years he’d finally convinced his father to let him move out. Sadly it was to an apartment his father had chosen and was finding. But he relished the privacy. He had been getting more emails recently. And whoever it was had begun signing emails as Callie Shaw. He thought he hardy boys reference was funny but decided not to push. Whoever she was had seemingly gotten very fervent with her art. Painting constantly. He could feel the hunger to succeed mixed with the listlessness she felt about her situation. And her paintings were lonely. Faces looked at him with blank eyes or distant expressions. Landscapes all felt bare. He would trade poetry for the paintings, filling his time and many journals with it. He sent the best ones her way. He wondered if they’d ever really meet.

~~~~~~

Mabel was desperate for something to do. She had spiraled a bit after college. She had part time work as a graphic designer thankfully but was still living in her mothers house for the time being. Her last apartment hadn’t worked out. And she was painting. Some of them sold but many didn’t and loved the walls of her mothers house. Her stash of paintings based on Orpheus’s poems - both the ones he’d sent and written - were still safely stashed under her bed in a carefully organized and unlabeled box. She still hadn’t sent them and felt she was a little past the point of starting to send them. If they ever met she vowed to show him. Even if she thought they’d make him laugh. Early one morning she got a call from her Aunt from the Arconia. “Mabel dear,” her aunt questioned as she answered the phone, “if perchance I wanted a change of pace, would you be willing to potentially take on a project?”

Mabel shrugged before responding “maybe?”

“I’m looking to renovate at the end of next year.”

That felt ages away but Mabel considered.

“December in 2020?”

“Yes dear. I need some time to get my things sorted.”

Mabel thought about her job which was very doable from a distance and the fact she’d have housing covered that wasn’t with her mother. The prospect seemed promising.

“I’m interested potentially. Please keep me in the loop”

“Of course dear I’ll update you on my progress with packing bags. Expect to move in in late November next year.”

Mabel smiled as they continued to absently chat for a bit. She had something to do and somewhere to go - if all worked out- and it sounded like an adventure and less excitingly, an opportunity to face the demons she had finally started to go to therapy for.

#mabel mora #omitb season 2 #theo dimas #theo x mabel #omitb spoilers #Mabel mora x Theo dimas #mordimas #Au fic #there should be a part two sooner than later #i just wanted to give them some backstory friends. besides trauma. some not trauma. hopefully

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themculibrary · 1 year

Text

Peter Survives The Snap Masterlist

A Study of Hope (ao3) - luisalesbian

G, 1k

Summary: Peter survived the snap, but Tony didn't.

Now, five years later- after the arrival of Scott Lang, the Avengers have an idea that could bring back all those that died. But the person they need might not be up for the task...

At The End Of All Things (ao3) - It-is-the-Hannah (carry_on_my_wayward_outcasts) pepper/tony T, 32k

Summary: In which Peter survives the snap, and that changes everything.

Cause I’m traveling blind (Pretending that I can see) (ao3) - Idiotgenius33 N/R, 4k

Summary: “We understand that many of you may have friends who have moved on…”

“He’s talking about them like they’re dead,” a girl whispered to her friends to Ned’s left. Hadn’t they kind of, in a way. The people they were before at least. Part of everyone died that day. Not just the ones that got snapped. The girls started giggling before getting shushed by a teacher.

This made Ned wonder what the first day of school after the snap was like. Did they get a generic ‘things will get better’ speech like this one? Who was left? What was class like with so little students? Did they even offer all the extracurriculars or could they not because there wouldn’t have been enough students to keep it going? This first day should be nothing in comparison to just after the snap when the whole world was grieving. Now, they haven’t lost anyone, it was the opposite, everyone was back. Everyone says they won. He should be happy. Right?

“Once again we welcome back all students and we wish everyone the best. You are now dismissed and can go back to your classes.”

Ned couldn’t have left any faster.

Lay Me Down On A Bed Of Roses (ao3) - The_Mishamigo N/R, 1k

Summary: Peter survives the snap, but can he survive Vormir? And what does that mean for the final battle?

Moving on (ao3) - Aisamad harley/peter T, 1k

Summary: Peter survived the snap. Peter survived, but Ned, MJ and May didn't. After building a life for himself, he is twenty when they come back. He is twenty two when he sees his classmates again.

My Soul (To Be A Part Of Me) (ao3) - WeAlwaysShare T, 1k

Summary: AU In which Peter survives the snap and he winds up with Tony in Vormir.

Somewhere in my Memory (ao3) - whump_angst_fluff_repeat G, 4k

Summary:

Candles in the window Shadows painting the ceiling Gazing at the fire glow Feeling that gingerbread feeling

The Christmas after the first Snap, Peter visits his treasured memories

Stasis (ao3) - ImaginationReaper98 G, 13k

Summary: "I lost my parents, when I was a kid. And then my uncle got shot." Peter's voice was low and cracked and not for the first time Natasha was reminded just how young he still was. "May was all I had left."

Natasha averted her gaze from him. I can't remember my own parents.

"I lost the only family I ever had." she whispered, thinking of her team, aware that Peter heard her say it. Perhaps she didn't mind.

Suffer the Children (ao3) - natneill99 pepper/tony T, 56k

Summary: When Thanos destroyed half of all life, over 7,500,000 children in the US alone suddenly found themselves without a family to go home to. Fourteen-year-old Peter Parker was one of them.

Survivor's Guilt (ao3) - gegg T, 4k

Summary: In which Peter Parker survives the snap.

But Tony Stark doesn't.

The Masterpiece Of Nature (ao3) - HeartOfStars T, 2k

Summary: In which Infinity War isn't completely terrible, and the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man survives the Snap.

We Got Lucky (ao3) - The_Muses_Summer_House pepper/tony T, WIP, 143k

Summary: In the wake of the snap, three people leave Titan. Peter Parker is alive. Returning to devastation, he learns to navigate his new life with Tony Stark. Part 1/3 of a long AU Endgame fix-it series.

What If Peter Survived (ao3) - WaywardKeener harley/peter M, 4k

Summary: Peter survives the snap but May doesn't.

What if Peter and Tony Went to Vormir? (ao3) - SpiderFan T, 1k

Summary: In this Marvel Universe, Peter Parker survives the snap and helps the Avengers retrieve the Infinity Stones from other times. Peter accompanies Tony Stark to Vormir and they battle over who will jump.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #avengers endgame #peter parker #thesnap #thesnap masterlist #petersurvives #petersurvives masterlist #masterlists

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tbuddahh · 2 years

Text

Conferences

A jopper a/u where Hopper meets Joyce at parent teacher conferences. She is El's teacher and he needs some advice.

Read on here or the link below:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14147381/1/Conferences

Jim Hopper isn’t sure when his life became quite so habitual, but somewhere between losing his wife, and adopting his niece, he turned into an ordinary suburban dad. The thrill and excitement of police work in the city lost its luster when Diane got sick, when he realized she was what mattered, not the next promotion. After that, after losing her, grieving her, he brought El to Hawkins, took his position as chief of police where nothing ever happens, and settled into raising the girl just how he knew Diane would have wanted.

Now, however, he has a burgeoning teenager, and he can’t be sure what Diane would do, or what he should do when she spends hours with Mike Wheeler, hours kissing Mike Wheeler. Sure, he’s heard good things about the kid, knows that he isn’t one of the kids he’s always bringing into the station for fights or petty crimes, but the boy shows no respect for authority, no respect for him, and it pisses him the hell off.

Jim sighs, bringing his disposable cup of coffee to his lips, and he doesn’t fight the slight burn of the too hot liquid because at least the discomfort pulls his mind from his current thoughts, thoughts about strangling Mike Wheeler. He sets down the cup inside his blazer before opening the door and donning his hat. He’s come straight from the station for El’s parent teacher conferences, and he is tired, cranky, and already knows El is doing fine, more than fine. She is an impeccable student. She’s smart when it comes to school, now if he could only get her to be smarter about boys.

He walks up to the front of Hawkin’s middle school, pushes through the doors and nods towards Becky in the office, silently reminding himself he was supposed to call her. She’d passed him her number the last time he was here checking on truants. Still, he can’t bring himself to think of a relationship, not when he’s dealing with El, or maybe that’s an excuse because he hasn’t met anyone that compares to Diane. Then again, it’s probably unfair to compare every woman to his dead wife.

Once he reaches El’s homeroom, he brings his knuckles to the door, tapping gently three times before the door creaks open beneath the force of his knock. She’s sitting at her desk, Ms. Byers, and he sees her glance up, brown eyes finding him before she’s moving to stand and greet him.

He’s heard a lot about Joyce Byers. Hawkins is a small town, and the woman has lived here all her life so naturally there has been gossip that found its way to his ears. Stories about her crazy aunt, or her abusive ex, her two boys, and how their whole family is just a bit odd, but he’s tried not to let any of the rumors influence his opinion of his daughter’s favorite teacher. Since the very first day of class El came home raving about Ms. Byers. His daughter loves her. He has only seen her a handful of times, once or twice they passed one another in the grocery store, but for the most part she seems to spend her days at the school and her nights at home. He’s the same of course, only leaving home or the station to respond to necessary work calls.

“Hello,” Joyce says, her words pulling him from his thoughts, “you must be Mr. Hopper? El’s dad?”

She smiles as she closes the distance between them, her hand lifting to meet his. She’s small, smaller than he’d realized when he’s seen her before, and the rumor about her ex flits through his mind, an image of some faceless man bringing his fist to this tiny woman, but Jim had heard she was a fighter herself, never leaving her ex husband without a scratch of his own to tend to.

She’s wearing clothing a bit more casual than he’s used to from teachers, pairing slacks with a t-shirt, and he suddenly feels over dressed in her presence, his chief’s uniform feeling more formal than required for this meeting. He removes his hat with one hand, bringing his other to hers and giving a slight shake.

“That’s me.” He says, a smile pulling at his lips. “You can call me Jim, or Hop, my friends use both.”

Her smile widens in response, “please call me Joyce,” and then she’s gesturing for him to sit in an uncomfortable looking chair set in front of her desk, while she makes her way back to her chair opposite him.

They go through the motions. She tells him El is brilliant. He already knows. She tells him she’s been a great student. He already knows. And then…

“I need to discuss something important with you,” Joyce closes the folder in front of her, charts and statistics about El’s education closed away. “The other day,” she pauses, looking at him intensely, and he can’t help but notice the way she bites her lower lip, the action making him wonder briefly what her lips would taste like before he shakes that away, mentally chiding himself. This is his daughter’s teacher. Joyce continues with, “El asked me about sex.”

He’s frozen, eyes staring into hers, blinking, but he can’t formulate words, can’t seem to make his brain work.

“Jim?” Joyce questions, dark eyes twisting in concern.

He shakes his head, clearing his throat, “Um, I’m sorry,” he smiles, realizing he must have misheard, “I thought you said,”

She interrupts, “sex? That is what I said.” Joyce leans back in her chair, sitting a bit straighter, and he thinks he can see a flush creep up her neck.

He laughs, a slight little chuckle because he can hardly believe that he’s sitting here about to have this conversation with El’s teacher. “I,” he pauses, mind spinning, his brain still half dwelling on the flush of Joyce’s skin, “I know she’s been hanging around with that Mike Wheeler kid a lot.” He says Mike’s name with a hint of venom to his voice, “but they aren’t. I mean,” he studders,” I always have her door cracked, and they are kissing,” he rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “so much damn kissing, but sex? They aren’t,” he pauses again and Joyce rescues him with her next words.

“She isn’t having sex.” He breathes out a deep sigh of relief, his hand swiping up to push through his hair. He can feel a sheen of sweat building on his forehead. If Joyce says sex one more time he’s not sure how he’ll react.

“She is just curious, has questions.” the woman across from him continues, “she mentioned it is just you and her.” The look of empathy in Joyce’s brown eyes strikes him in that moment, cuts deep, and he realizes she also knows how lonely it can be raising kids on your own. “I think you need to have a conversation with her. You know, a heart to heart.”

“A,” he pauses, bites his lower lip, “heart to heart?”

Her brows lift, “yes, you know, you talk with them, open and honestly, set boundaries.”

“Set boundaries..” He likes the sounds of that, but he honestly can’t say that he’s ever had a ‘heart to heart’ in his life, or that he even could if he wanted to. “Ummmmm, maybe you could do that,” he nods hopefully, ignoring Joyce’s arching eyebrow, continuing with, “ya know, as her teacher.”

She leans forward slowly, elbows resting on her desk, “No.”

“No?” He questions, all hope draining from his features.

“No,” she chuckles, “you’re her dad. It wouldn’t work coming from me.” She lifts her hand, index finger pointing towards his chest, “You need to do it.”

“Maybe you could just move Mike into a different homeroom?” He suggests, the idea seemingly plausible to him, “If she doesn’t see him as much at school that might help the situation.”

She scoffs, doesn’t hide her laugh, and even though it’s a sound of exasperation, he like it, thinks he could get used to hearing that sound, “you want me to switch their homeroom schedules, gym schedules, lunch schedules, all in the hopes that seeing each other less at school will somehow make them want to spend less time together outside of school?” Her eyes narrow waiting for his response.

He feels like an idiot, because of course she’s right, and hearing it come out of her mouth makes him realize how stupid of a plan it was, “Well, when you put it that way.” He sighs, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’s pretty sure having a teenager comes with a constant headache.

Joyce sighs, head tilting, her annoyance melting away, replaced with sympathy, “look, I get it. I have two boys myself. It isn’t easy.” She pauses, stands and lifts her pen and notebook, circling her desk before sitting at the edge just to the side of him. “I can’t talk to them for you, but maybe I can help.” Her lips curve into a gentle smile, and his stomach twists.

“Help?” He questions, not sure what she has in mind, not sure anything could help him get through the next few years of raising El.

She leans forward just a bit, the action wafting a warm vanilla scent to his nose and he wonders if it's her perfume or lotion before she says, “Yeah, give you some tips.” She sets her notebook down in front of him, handing him the pen. He notices the way their fingers briefly touch, the contact warm and soft, and he keeps his hand there, lingering, until she pulls her’s away, releasing the pen.

He wonders if she feels it too, the attraction he’s noticing, or maybe it’s just been too long for him that he’s feeling like a teenager again himself.

Joyce smiles again, her hands resting on either side of her as she stays perched at the edge of her desk, “Let’s start with the basics.”

He grins, bringing the pen to paper, and thinks how his daughter is right. Ms. Byers is an amazing teacher.

#jopper #jopper fic #jopper fanfiction #jim x joyce #joyce x hopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #fanfiction #fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #I just can't get these two out of my mind #maybe this will help #I don't really know what this is #maybe it'll be more than a one shot #maybe it's awful

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