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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 years

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By: Rio Veradonir

As most of us understand it, social justice is a good thing. Definitions vary, but the common thread is a belief that society should actively work to expand access to social goods for all people, regardless of race, sex, or other immutable characteristics. Like all decent people, I support that noble goal. So it worries me that a vocal minority of extremists with dangerous ideas and toxic tactics have abused the concept in recent years, throwing it into disrepute. A cadre of activists today push a radical ideology in the name of “social justice,” one with none of its liberal principles. Because its proponents intentionally manipulate language to evade criticism, I will use the terms Liberal Social Justice (LSJ) and Critical Social Justice (CSJ) to distinguish between the original version and the new one.

Growing up in a Cult

My elementary and high school education took place at a private religious school, Seventh Day Adventist (SDA) to be exact. The SDA Church is a fundamentalist, Protestant Christian denomination that began in the United States in the mid-19th century — an era during which many separatist cult-like movements sprang forth out of American Christianity, the most famous being Mormonism. The SDA Church was born out of the Millerite movement whose early believers predicted, based upon an esoteric reading of the Bible, that the world would end on October 22nd, 1844. When that day passed, offshoots of the movement formed based upon one or another justification for the miscalculation. To this day, SDA Church doctrine states that we are living in “The End Times.” I was instructed by teachers who had no qualms informing students that Armageddon would probably come “during our lifetime.” Despite that certainty, some of those elders have since passed away without the pleasure of experiencing the end of the world.

Apart from being a bit kooky, that kind of eccentricity seems harmless enough. But beliefs invariably influence other beliefs. I was taught Young-Earth creationism — in Science class no less — and that anyone who tried to persuade us otherwise, even with credible evidence, was a tool of Satan sent to damn our souls. My early schooling was about two years ahead of public school in some subjects — but 200+ years behind in science.

Some of the indoctrination inevitably took root. I was a skeptical but otherwise upstanding SDA kid. I had no objections when my friends casually stated that they would never marry outside the Church. We were discouraged from even associating with non-Adventist kids. I remember taking an odd pride in that, like outsiders were beneath me. This went on well into my teens. Then something changed.

Escaping the Cult

My sexuality was pivotal to my relationship with the SDA church. I was aware from early adolescence that I was attracted to both boys and girls. At first, I thought little of it, but over time it began to cause cognitive dissonance. The Bible, as we were taught it, stated explicitly that homosexuality (and by extension bisexuality) is a sin. Did this mean I was supposed to resist temptation and just marry a nice SDA girl when I grew up? Perhaps. We were also supposed to follow other strict rules, such as not engaging in “secular activities” on Saturday. The truly devout would never eat pork or shellfish. Many were even vegetarian. In that context, everything seemed equally arbitrary — as illustrated by the common answer adults gave to pesky questions: “Because God says so.” By sixteen, I had outgrown it. I’d had enough of the hypocrisy and the dismissal of my skepticism. So, I tested out of high school early and started college.

Most of my SDA friends went to private Adventist universities where their indoctrination continued unabated, but I dove headlong into the belly of the beast: public community college, then a public state university. I flourished in that new environment. Whereas my skepticism and curiosity had been frowned upon by religious instructors, outside it was welcomed — even encouraged. For the first time, I felt free to fully explore the world of ideas, unconstrained by dogma. I quickly realized I’d been led astray not only in science, but in history, and even the arts, where only the most Christian-friendly material was covered. My intellectual experience had been filtered through the lens of a single subculture. It was a pedagogy built upon circular reasoning with the goal of reinforcing faith in SDA doctrine.

To compensate, I spent the next ten years immersing myself in a broad education — changing majors four times. In contrast to my prior schooling, these public institutions were founded on Enlightenment values — where critical thinking, logic, and evidence ruled — not blind faith. It’s not that tradition was disrespected; I was exposed to philosophical and religious traditions from all over the world. It was a breath of fresh air — life-giving. I appreciated my newfound intellectual freedom all the more because I knew firsthand what it was like to be arbitrarily constrained. My experience had fine-tuned my dogma-radar, and when secular education institutions began falling to a different but equally stultifying set of dogmas, red flags went off.

Warning Signs

It was in an advanced literature course in the late 2000s that I was first exposed to a school of thought called Critical Theory, which we used as an approach to literary criticism. I remember the professor saying, “The author’s intent doesn’t matter,” which meant that it was considered acceptable to attribute meanings to a work even if the author had explicitly stated that they never intended such. That rubbed me the wrong way. It begged the question “By what standard can we judge which interpretations are correct, or is it just anything goes?”

As the semester wore on, however, I gained a new insight: that language is an imperfect tool for communication, because “signifiers” (such as words) can only be defined by other signifiers. There is no way to directly access the “signifieds,” which are different for each speaker and listener because they are informed by our different experiences. In other words, it is never possible to ascertain exactly what the speaker means, only an interpretation of it, because we all have different associations with each word or phrase. That collectively adds up to substantially different readings of a given work.

I was mesmerized. It made sense. Applied to art, it resulted in more dynamic and interesting criticism. Besides, this was just one perspective out of many I studied at a school that had earned my trust by exposing me to a variety of differing perspectives. Little did I know, Critical Theory would escape its confines and expand well beyond literary criticism.

Queer Liberation

Southern Oregon University, the last school I attended, has repeatedly been recognized as one of the most LGBT-friendly colleges in the US. Still, I remember anxiously walking into the campus’s Queer Resource Center (QRC). Anybody who saw me might assume I was gay. What if people looked at me funny? I wasn’t ashamed of my bisexuality, but the fear of being judged by my new peers brought back latent insecurities from my childhood. The girl at the help desk was kind — and cute! After some flirtatious pleasantries, I asked her, “How do I meet other LGBT people around here? I’d really like to find a circle of bi folks.” She invited me to a dance put on by the QRC. I went, and I had a great time. Everybody was friendly and supportive. Nobody had anything to hide. It was another world, a freer one, compared to the insular and judgmental atmosphere of my youth.

After school, I got engaged and moved to Los Angeles with my fiancé, now my wife, so she could pursue her master’s at the USC School of Cinematic Arts in — notably — Critical Studies. We got involved with a wonderful social club for bi people called amBi. I’d finally found that bi circle! It was healing to be surrounded by tolerant, open-minded people — yet another liberating chapter in my life. Before long, we made a name for ourselves as event organizers, and then as volunteers at Pride parades and festivals. In time, I was invited to work for a nonprofit called The American Institute of Bisexuality. I readily accepted.

The organization, also called The Bi Foundation, shares the liberal Enlightenment values that helped me escape the indoctrination of my youth. But as it turns out, they are something of an outlier. The vast majority of LGBT orgs now take a different, illiberal, counter-Enlightenment approach. I would soon discover that the world of contemporary queer activism could not be more different from the liberal arts education I received in the 2000s or from the carefree bi social club I had since come to love. Instead, it was much more like the repressive environment in which I had grown up back in the 90s. It came to remind me of a fundamentalist cult, with a lot of the same qualities.

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

The first bi-related conference I attended was BECAUSE (Bisexual Empowerment Conference: A Uniting, Supportive Experience), in the Twin Cities, Minnesota. It began as a way for bi activists to network with one another. Upon checking in, I was asked to put on a name tag with my pronouns. I didn’t think much of it. I was asked to fill out a survey with questions about my personal history, including my preferred label to describe my “bi+ and gender identities.” That felt a little strange. Regardless, the conference was a positive networking experience with engaging speakers. There were early warning signs, though. The discussion groups were rife with virtue signaling. It reminded me of the religious one-upmanship of my SDA days, and the pride in perceived victimhood.

In 2016 I attended an LGBT event in DC hosted by the Obama administration as an invited bi activist. I didn’t know what to expect. I was hoping for something productive. What I witnessed was anything but. There was virtually no discussion of policy ideas that might make a real material difference in the lives of bi people. It was nothing but grandstanding. Panelists were competing in the Oppression Olympics, obnoxiously vying to portray themselves as both the most virtuous and beleaguered. Every speech began with a recitation of the speaker’s intersecting oppressed identities. The more intersectionality points, the more street cred. Poor chaps who had the misfortune of being born white, male, and/or heterosexual (and who weren’t trans) were admonished to “Check their privilege,” which meant that their opinions were worthless. The quality of one’s ideas didn’t matter, not that anything concrete was being discussed anyway. Instead, the political strategy amounted to nothing but endless shouting about how American society was irredeemably awful and needed to be torn down. It felt like the White House invited us so we would feel listened to, even though it served no other practical purpose. Of course Obama was not in attendance — I’m sure he had more important things to do — but I wondered what he would make of the weird, illiberal theater I’d witnessed. I thought back on his speech, delivered after attacks on his association with the radical Reverend Jeremiah Wright:

“… We’ve heard my former pastor ... use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; … they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country — a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America...”

No, President Obama would not have approved. He is a liberal, like me, who shares Martin Luther King Jr.’s vision of inclusion as a pathway to integration and treating people the same, regardless of any immutable trait. I got into LGBT activism in service of that dream. Isn’t the whole point to bring about a future where everybody is treated as an individual, rather than stereotyped on the basis of superficial qualities? Shouldn’t we be working to break down barriers, instead of fomenting perpetual divisions for tribal warfare? Why were these activists, among the most privileged people in society, so full of disdain for the Enlightenment values that rest at the foundation of all that is good about this country and for the liberal values that made LGBT rights possible? Didn’t they understand that replacing one form of bigotry with another was not real progress? I reassured myself that this was probably just an eccentric group. It was just one day, after all. Surely most LGBT activists shared my liberal values. They had to, right?

I returned to DC to attend training sessions with a leading expert on social media strategy. A friend and colleague, who happened to be a cis white male, committed the cardinal sin: stating an opinion contrary to the Critical “Social Justice” (CSJ) dogma. When asked explicitly to give feedback, he expressed sympathy and understanding for the ideas presented, but dared convey concern that some of the more extreme language being used might alienate allies. He was brutally pilloried by several fellow students in the class, who claimed that his words had triggered them and amounted to “actual violence”, and demanded that he rescind his statement or be expelled. I was flabbergasted, and my friend was fighting back tears, which only elicited more yelling and taunting. We’d made real sacrifices to be there. It felt wrong.

Over the following years, we attended many more progressive conferences, including Netroots Nation (attended every year by Democratic lawmakers). They all had the same toxic culture — and it got worse by the year, especially after Trump took office. Eventually, almost every discussion group, presentation, or speech seemed narrowly focused on this emerging, illiberal ideology. With it, came more obnoxious behavior. Attendees who spoke up in defense of traditional liberal values were protested, shouted down, and disinvited. I witnessed outright racism against white people, sexism against men, and cisheterophobia — all coming from the movement that was supposed to be standing for equality and human rights. Even SSSS (the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality) eventually succumbed to the dogma. They were pressured into releasing embarrassing statements denying biological sex, reinforcing the irrational worldview of CSJ and undermining their scientific mission. There had to be an explanation. I needed to understand the motivations behind this trend.

The Cult of “Social Justice”

I looked to my better half for support. With her MA in Critical Studies, which was somehow related to this convoluted landscape, I knew my wife Talia could help me decode this riddle. She explained that Critical Theory, the obscure academic philosophy I encountered in a literature course, had expanded to become the dominant political principle and epistemology of modern progressive politics.

Madness! How did a single perspective of limited practical application come to capture half of Western political thought — and so quickly?! It wasn’t just the US Democratic Party — it had spread to the global left. I needed to research it further. I compiled a reading list of figures influential in cultural-left thought, including Hegel, Marx, The Frankfurt School, various postmodernists, and their contemporary successors. The common thread was a mode of thought much less grounded in rationality than the analytical, pro-Enlightenment thinkers I preferred. It was like going back to religious school all over again!

Religion, like social justice, is hard to define. Superficially plausible descriptions such as “A belief in god(s)” fall short, because not all religions have such beliefs. Scholars tend to prefer broader, less parochial definitions like “A particular system of faith and worship” or “A pursuit or interest to which someone ascribes supreme importance.” Contemporary thinkers have argued in all seriousness that some apparently secular ideologies can be regarded as religions. In “Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World”, theologian Tara Isabella Burton argues that the “social justice” phenomenon has all the key components of a religion: it provides believers with an all-encompassing worldview, meaning and purpose, clearly defined communal boundaries, and powerful self-actualizing rituals. Linguist John McWhorter’s “Woke Racism: How a New Religion Has Betrayed Black America” maintains that a blind faith in systemic oppression (despite evidence of unprecedented progress) is a kind of fallen creation myth. Cisgender, heterosexual, white, and/or male people are “born in sin” and can never purge themselves of it — they can only endlessly atone by saying the right words and performing the right self-flagellations. Biologist Richard Dawkins, a notorious critic of religion, has come under fire for making similar invidious comparisons in his attempts to defend his own scientific field from related gender essentialism and science denial. Political Theory Professor Joshua Mitchell has argued that the boundaries between politics and religion are breaking down, and that CSJ has strong structural parallels with Christianity. Entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy, in his book “Woke Inc.”, wrote that CSJ beliefs arguably “Meet the legal definition of a religion” and thus employers would be well-advised not to force these views upon their employees. Among others, CSJ shares with religions the qualities of blind faith, circular epistemology, self-referential exegeses, cynical apologetics, sacred testimony, indoctrination, authoritarianism, holier-than-thou attitudes, hostility to science and rationality, and the persecution and excommunication of heretics.

In Christian school, “faith” was the convenient get-out-of-jail-free-card for authorities who had no real answer to valid questions. Every dogma is reducible to an article of faith, which means that it requires no evidence to back it up. If there was evidence, then there’d be no need for faith. What matters is that we prove our loyalty to God and the Church by choosing to believe despite the dearth of evidence. The less evidence, the more faith is required, and the more noble and virtuous it is to believe. This creates a self-reinforcing, perpetual motion machine of irrationality. It would be harmless enough if people were content to keep those beliefs to themselves, but a great many religious people see it as their calling to force those beliefs onto others through indoctrination and even legislation. The Cult of CSJ is no exception. If someone asks heretic but otherwise perfectly reasonable questions calling for evidence-based answers, they are told that logic and science are tools of the oppressor. It is a symptom of our privilege (sin) that we have these doubts. In other words, we are supposed to take the central tenets of CSJ on faith.

Of course, that doesn’t mean proponents never attempt to offer logical reasons or evidence for their ideas. They often do, but it comes in the form of pseudo-evidence that is reducible to faith. In Adventist school, appeals to science and reason were selectively made only when the apparent facts aligned with the dogma. Any argument or evidence that did not was conveniently ignored or explained away as the devil trying to deceive us. But that isn’t how rationality and science work; you don’t get to pick and choose when their standards apply. Without consistent and universally applied principles, appeals to logic and science are insincere. Does this argument or data point seem superficially compatible with my cherished belief? If yes, then it is true. If no, then it is false. It’s just confirmation bias. Years of working in CSJ-dominated spaces have made it quite clear that this kind of dishonesty is baked into the ideology.

The same circular standard applies to sacred texts: At Christian school, it was the Bible, among other SDA writings. In CSJ circles, it’s the approved canon of scholarship. Religious schools teach a process called exegesis, whereby the sacred text is interpreted. You start with the assumption that the text is the infallible word of God (or one of his prophets), and you proceed from there. If something about the text seems inaccurate or incoherent, you must be misreading the text. After all, you’re a fallible human being — so who are you to judge God’s word? Any apparent failings of the text are thus explained away as user (reader) error. This is exactly how believers in CSJ defend their own core canon. If critics point to logical errors, claims contrary to evidence, or self-contradictions, CSJ defenders are quick to accuse you of “misunderstanding” the material. There’s nothing wrong with Theory — only you’re too dense to comprehend its wisdom. It’s the same tactic.

In religious traditions, apologetics is a discipline where practitioners known as apologists devote their lives to making excuses for the irrationality and immorality of their chosen faith. Is your church engaging in the systematic cover-up of child rape? No problem — put out a ten-thousand-word essay explaining why Catholic tradition is blameless nevertheless. CSJ apologists include academics with pro-CSJ dissertations that lay out the philosophical basis for the practice, and journalists or public intellectuals who apply them in defense of the faith. The underlying principle is blind devotion to the dogma. It’s easy to excuse bad behavior done in its name (or deny that it happens at all), because CSJ is The Truth. If you’ve felt gaslit by people telling you that your concerns are totally misplaced, that cancel culture isn’t real (or it’s a good thing), or that rioting, looting, and arson in the name of CSJ is justified, you’ve been in the company of a religious apologist.

Another form of “proof” used by the religious is sacred testimony. In my Christian school, much fanfare accompanied the testimonies of the “born again.” The testifier would recount negative life experiences such as drug addiction, criminality, or sexual deviance, and how coming to faith in the salvation of Jesus Christ our Lord saved them from a miserable, meaningless existence. Of course stories such as my own, where escaping the church was the liberating experience, were not allowed to be discussed. CSJ’s “lived experience” is the same thing as sacred testimony. We are told we must respect the lived experiences of oppressed groups, and that only oppressed bodies are qualified to discuss issues related to their oppression — which as it turns out, conveniently encompasses all issues. If the “lived experience” in question is compatible with CSJ dogma, it must be believed, and any skepticism is pure bigotry. But if the lived experience does not reinforce CSJ dogma, into the trash they go (even if the speaker is a member of the oppressed group). My experience as a bi person, triggered by the cult-like behavior that brings back childhood traumas doesn’t count for anything at all — because it makes CSJ look bad. Similarly, the lived experiences of black critics of CSJ, like John McWhorter, are also rejected. There are no real principles here.

Just as with religion, people are not born believing dogmatic ideologies. They are indoctrinated into these beliefs. In my childhood, that was accomplished by a curated revisionist history and science curriculum. The CSJ cult uses taxpayer-funded public schools. Every subject must be reworked to ensure students are only permitted to see the issue through a CSJ lens. Ideologues always prefer indoctrination to genuine education that teaches students how to think instead of what to think, because critical thinking, rationality, skepticism, debate, and free speech are the tools that dismantle nonsense. By contrast, dogmatic belief systems shut down criticism by punishing the critics and silencing free speech. Liberalism, with its preference for open and universal inquiry, is seen as dangerous because it steers people away from the virtuous path. According to “social justice” pedagogy, not only are there ‘stupid questions,' there are evil ones. The very act of questioning CSJ is “literal violence” that must be shut down — by punishing the student (or teacher) who does so.

This ideology is consuming every academic subject. It began in the humanities, but it is now infecting even the hard sciences and mathematics. Universal, objective standards for success in these fields are derided as oppressive. Science and mathematics are now “One way of knowing,” no better than any other, and perhaps even inferior — since they are the preferred tools of Western culture. Those who disagree with its tenets are pressured, intimidated, silenced, or exiled as heretics. Professors like former Portland State University professor Peter Boghossian and even administrators like former Harvard President Lawrence Summers are run out of academia; employees like former Google engineer James Damore and even executives like former Roivant CEO Vivek Ramaswamy are forced out of corporations, and in the nonprofit world I’ve seen the same play out over and over again — especially in progressive spaces like LGBT activism.

Give Me that Old-Time Religion

Religion satisfies a deep need for many people, and it is not my place to take it away from anyone. But religion has boundaries. The world’s first liberal democracy was founded by Enlightenment thinkers who understood that the best way to respect religious freedom was to separate church from state. The establishment clause of the 1st Amendment to the Constitution was devised to serve that purpose, as eloquently explained by Thomas Jefferson in his Letter to the Danbury Baptists:

“I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should ‘make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,’ thus building a wall of separation between Church and State.”

That wall must apply to all religions, theistic or otherwise. Believers of Critical Social Justice have every right to hold their beliefs. But the freedom of religion also means freedom from religion. Just as they must be free to believe as they wish, we must be free from having their beliefs forced down our throats. Taxpayer-funded schools should not teach the tenets of CSJ, and their ideas should not be applied to the pedagogy or curriculum of public schools. Corporations and nonprofits should have no more right to discriminate against employees based on CSJ beliefs than upon traditional (religious) ones. A liberal society should tolerate differences of opinion and allow ideas to compete fairly in the marketplace of ideas. CSJ cannot be granted special status, because that road leads to totalitarianism. The debate over CSJ isn’t likely to be settled any time soon, but we should be able to come to a consensus about its place in the public sphere. We need only choose between the liberty afforded by secularism or the tyranny imposed by theocracy. I know which I prefer. As a bi man who was liberated from religiously-induced self-loathing by exposure to a more secular environment, I can attest that liberalism and Enlightenment ideals are the path forward for our movement. Tethering ourselves to illiberal ideologies like CSJ is not.

“Social Justice” is Not Just

At the outset, I explained that I distinguish between two conceptions of Social Justice: the liberal one (LSJ) and a newly ascendant illiberal one (CSJ). Liberal Social Justice is the vision that has given us the progress we’ve made on civil rights; it is one based on the liberal principle of equal treatment for all individuals regardless of their membership in any identity group. It’s what was championed by the original feminists, LGBT activists, and anti-racist leaders. By contrast, Critical Social Justice, in the name of Neo-Marxist “equity” (equal outcomes), advocates for intentional systemic discrimination against historically “oppressive” groups. This is because you cannot have that kind of “equity” without violating the liberal principle of equality. The most informed and honest of its adherents will admit this if pressed.

A collectivist conception of “justice” breeds tribal warfare and tyranny. CSJ proponents are correct that there is a history of oppression against marginalized groups. But that oppression wasn’t in the name of liberalism; it was in the name of different illiberal ideologies: pre-liberal feudalism, mercantilist slavery, theocratic homophobia, and fascism. For a group that claims to value nuanced critiques of issues, CSJ proponents seem to miss a key fact about the West: we are not and never have been perfectly liberal. Progress has happened gradually, always slowed and sometimes reversed by various illiberal alternatives that have animated segments of our society all along. And, yes, the early liberal and Enlightenment thinkers were not perfect exemplars of their ideals. Nobody ever is. But this is to be expected. Utopia isn’t possible, which is why we channel inevitable human conflicts in productive directions through institutions like capitalism and democracy. Beware the cult that sells you a utopia, because any dictatorial action can be justified by such a false vision.

It wasn’t Critical Social Justice that liberated me as a bi person. It was Liberal Social Justice. For any individual to be liberated, they need a conception of justice that values individual liberty. CSJ proponents aren’t going to liberate anyone. They are merely justifying a new kind of prejudice by appealing to an old one. This is why they must deny that we’ve made progress on civil rights in the West. If they were to admit it, they’d lose their excuse for that power grab. Liberals should not be taken in by this con. CSJ isn’t the new frontier of civil rights. It’s just one of liberalism’s old enemies resurfacing and rebranded with a trendy 21st-century pseudo-woke veneer — one of many illiberal ideologies vying for the power to tear society down and seize control for itself. Given liberalism’s proven track record of progress on civil rights, we’d be unwise to ally, even temporarily, with a movement that opposes those ideals. We need an awakening, but a liberal one — which celebrates real progress and views collective action as voluntary arrangements between individuals. We need a new Enlightenment, not just another deluded cult. It’s time liberals wake up to the fact that Critical Social Justice is an oxymoron, a mockery, and a Trojan horse. CSJ might just as well stand for “The Cult of ‘Social Justice.’”

#Rio Veradonir #cult #cult dynamics #cult of woke #wokeism #wokeness as religion #woke #woke activism #critical social justice #social justice activism #illiberalism #civil rights #liberal ethics #liberalism #liberal values #woke cult #religion is a mental illness

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embossross · 2 years

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caught up on tr s2 and have some thoughts on the good, the bad, and the ugly. spoilers for both anime & manga...

the good

this is definitely my favorite arc in the story, and it's fascinating to watch with the knowledge of where the story is going. it cheapens some things, but i still think it is holding up.

because the shibas are just amazing! i think character motivation might be wakui's biggest weakness (more on that later pft) and the shibas have the most well thought through motivations, tons of pathos, tons of payoff. love them.

yuzuha's voice actress! i wrote husky-voiced yuzuha before this season came out! i knew it i knew it i knew it

also the kick heard round the world! in a story filled with out of nowhere high kicks, yuzuha's is the best.

appreciating how violent these kids are, even the ones that i think of as sweethearts. chifuyu did not hesitate to break that bottle and take it to kisaki's throat. insane! kokonoi and inupi are feral in their intro scene. koko especially is so unpredictable, so slimy, so dangerous, like. it's making me want to write him lol

EVERYTHING about the taiju/mitsuya sit down is just incredible. what esp blows my mind is how taiju doesn't out hakkai when mitsuya wrongly thinks hakkai protects yuzuha. he laughs, yes, but he goes along with it. because hakkai in that moment must be just utterly humiliated to realize how he doesn't live up to the ideals mitsuya instilled in him. insane stuff. there should be more shiba household terror fic out there because their dynamic is so rich with awfulness. that said, fuck a taiju redemption arc. no one needed a taiju fucking redemption arc.

i forget that kisaki was actually a great villain! until they give you his motivations - bleh bleh bleh - he's actually so scary! he's always several steps ahead, he is good at setting traps and escaping them, he is charismatic in a strange way. he's a good villain. (and honestly, i don't even mind that he's an incel. i mind that he's an elementary school incel. if wakui had just written kisaki as staying friends with hina over the years, it would have drastically improved it. but alas. he is ruined for me forever)

i also forgot how deep hanma's voice is. that's it. that's the note.

the bad

the gag with chifuyu's "plan a and plan b" made my stomach turn. i can't stand watching people humiliate themselves.

takemichi revealing everything to chifuyu in the manga is a great moment, but i think it is spoiled a bit in happening in ep 3 of the anime because it's been a while since we have seen the bond between takemichi and chifuyu between seasons, so it just feels too sudden idk

hina's dad would have been a lot more convincing if he didn't open his speech with how he's basically an absentee parent that never sees his kids. he's not even a good dad!

really wish hina was a character and not just a prop while we're on the subject. the idea that this boy broke up with her in middle school, and she just pined after him into her mid-20s??? is she a femcel to kisaki's incel? what is this??? i know it's passe to point this out, but they really should have made them high schoolers. would have made moments like this a little more reasonable.

i request more mikey. and i know i'm not getting it for a few more eps but god.

the ugly

i know that you can't think too deeply about this story and how takemichi is 26 or it makes everything happening a) insanely creepy re: Hina and b) insanely cringy re: why is he so impressed by the company of these middle schoolers??? like, i know. suspend your disbelief and go with it. but the show keeps reminding me! they keep dropping lines about it as a joke and it's harshing my vibes.

also, takemichi is the most pathetic protagonist of all time, and it's worse in the anime than the manga because you can't read past it fast. watching those moments stretch out in the anime is agony. he keeps being outsmarted by children. CHILDREN! he jumps back to the past and his immediate priority is beating a child at bowling! he sees "bd" on a rival gang's jacket and wonders 'what does that stand for' a mere 30 seconds after thinking about the Black Dragons! i get that he's meant to be a loser, but why also make him this insufferably stupid???? (i don't even hate takemichi. i just think the anime is making it tough.)

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flame-shadow · 2 years

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8. What do you like most about your own work?

10. What’s that one thing that inspired you to make drawing your consistant hobby?

8. What do you like most about your own work?

Hmmm. I like a decent amount of things about my art, but probably what I like most is that I can draw quickly and generally capture or quickly discover what I'm intending to draw. The sooner I can get an idea or the impression of a shape out of my head, the sooner I am freed from the burden of trying to remember something I can't visualize.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I don't have a strong ability to visualize things in my head (aphantasia), so when I have something in mind that I want to draw, it manifests as an impression - usually the abstract feeling of an expression or the flow of a pose - that I have to translate onto the paper. And when I don't get what I'm after the first time, then I can usually quickly figure it out with some sketchy lines and a few adjustments.

I've figured out a way to describe the experience of 'seeing' what's in my head, but it's kinda irrelevant here. Anyway, drawing quickly and ridding myself of intangible idea-demons.

10. What’s that one thing that inspired you to make drawing your consistent hobby?

I don't think there's a single identifiable thing. I have always been drawing; I'm one of those "since I could hold a crayon and push it around on a paper" people. I think it's more that.. there are some things which helped me out, and there are some things which were less fun but which ensured that I didn't actually STOP drawing as a hobby.

Before I list the factors, I want to set the stage. I was Not Good At Drawing Things for a long time. I have always been slow at developing my artistic skills and figuring out how to do things. Among my artistically inclined peers, I was almost always on the lower skilled, less creative end of the spectrum of artists, especially before my early-to-mid-twenties (this is a very subjective spectrum and it's not that great to compare yourself to others in this way, but tolerate my usage of it here please). I don't say this to put myself down, but I want to emphasize that not only was I not one of the ~ooh wow you're so talented~ artists, but I used to accept the quiet fact that I'd probably never be Great at art, that I'd mostly just be someone who had decent skills and could entertain people with my doodles. (And to be clear, I filled this niche for many years and was happy doing it! But I wanted to keep getting better, so I did.)

Things which helped me continue drawing: - support/encouragement from my family and friends, especially my mom who would buy me art supplies and paid for me to attend some after-school art classes during my elementary school years. those classes taught me some foundational techniques that I still think about and use today. - related, that art teacher from those classes. seriously, she was the one art teacher i have had who i actually genuinely always enjoyed interacting with (the other art teachers were a mixed bag, but what can you expect when they had to deal with middle and high schoolers all the damn time) - joy! i enjoyed and still enjoy the physical experience of drawing and expressing myself in a different way. there is a tactile pleasure to drawing on paper that cannot be experienced from drawing on a screen, and i think that helped engage me, and i often return to it when i need to feel more from drawing - spite. yeah, cycling back to those unfun art teachers, i absolutely have been motivated by spite to keep drawing. sometimes i think about going up to my middle school art teacher and giving evidence for the fact that i can paint now and i know how to draw contours and my dragons don't look like weird dog-lizards. and i think about going up to my high school art teacher and shoving so many pieces in her face and saying that i can too compose a drawing and use color well and my anatomy is loads better and also just because you don't understand the appeal of dragons doesn't mean i'll ever stop drawing them also fuck you for making me cry when i was trying my best for those entire two years i had your class im better now and also ive stolen what you taught me about critiques and turned it into something that people actually come to me for help with because unlike you, I can give a critique without making the artist shrivel up inside -dragons. dragons are super fun to draw and they have often been the only thing i had any desire to draw

That got long, whoops. I don't have simple answers for questions like these XD

Artist question list

#thanks for asking!#flame answers

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - I bet i love you

Gif if not mine, but i swear she looks prettier every time i look at her.

Summary: Prompt based from @ecruzsalaz: The one where Wanda is popular, and Reader is a nerd. The popular kids do a bet that Reader will fall in love with Wanda. Everything will be reveal after their trip.

Warnings: Light angst, kissing, teasing, underage drinking, lies, Vision being an idiot completely out of canon.

Words: 13.446 k /// Read on AO3

Notes: I don’t even know what happen here. I’m been busy and this took a lot of days to be done, but it’s finally here, hope @ecruzsalaz will be satisfied haha. Good reading everyone and apologies for any typo, it sucks to translate so many words. There are a few pop culture references, i wonder if anyone will catch those.

Marks (if i forgot your name tell me i’m lost): @mionemymind @abimess

In your last year of high school, you just wish things would be peaceful.

The previous years hadn't exactly been ideal, since you were surrounded by assholes, but you are optimistic.

Your small, select group of friends, consisting of exactly two people, who you could swear were probably the only decent human beings left in West View High School, were currently the only reason you still wanted to go to high school.

Right now, for example, you were sitting in the outer cafeteria, a book of historical fiction to escape reality plus headphones with some old rock music that you weren't really listening to, since you were so focused on the story you were reading. And then someone pulled on your headphones, and you looked up ready to complain, but the mischievous smile of your best friend Bruce Banner was all you could find.

- I've been calling you for five minutes. - He said, sitting down on the stool in front of you. You smiled, apologizing, and put your cell phone on the table. - No problem, you always do that.

You laughed awkwardly, closing the book while Bruce put his backpack on the table.

- Where is Mon? I haven't seen her today. - You tell him, but Bruce shrugs.

- Maybe her mother changed shifts again. - He comments, and you make a noise with your mouth of agreement. Whenever Maria, your friend Monica's mother, switched shifts at work, she would be late for first periods. It has been like this since primary school.

- You still haven't let me see your schedule. - You told Bruce with a slight frown, and he laughed, going through his pockets. Then he took out his cell phone, fiddled with the screen for a few seconds, and then handed it to you. You read the attached class schedule with a frown. - Bruce! You didn't sign up for half the classes you took last year?

He shrugged, running his hands through his hair.

- Yeah, I think I'll focus more on what I want for college. - He explained a little shyly. - I was getting too anxious about all that stuff. And honestly, you should have done the same.

You made a grumbling sound with your mouth, and started biting your thumbnail as you finished looking at the schedule. You would barely have any classes together. And then you handed the cell phone back to your friend.

- I would do it if I had any idea what I wanted to major in. - You tell him. - It's better to have several interests on the curriculum, so I'll have more course options.

- You can also develop burnot. - He remarked with mild irony, and you laughed, looking away.

The bell for the first class then rang, and the two of you exchanged a look before getting up. Bruce kissed you on the cheek before heading in the opposite direction, and you grumbled lightly as you picked up your book and walked to the chemistry labs.

In the hallway of the main building, a few meters before the entrance to the lab, someone bumped into you. It was one of the boys from the team, who was laughing at something his colleague said. Your notebooks fell to the floor, and the boy looked at you with contempt.

- Watch where you're going weirdo. - He warned and you rolled your eyes.

- You're the one who bumped into me, you brute. - You grumbled angrily. The boy just laughed and walked away.

After picking your books, you stood up. The athletes at your school were jerks, but you didn't blame only them for their arrogance. The rest of the school, including the faculty, treated them as gods, so they behaved as such.

Sighing with impatience, you entered the chemistry labs, wishing that the day wasn't long.

Darcy Lewis had been your chemistry partner for three years. You smiled as you greeted her and sat down next to her. You were not friends, but she was very kind and extremely intelligent. You really thought you were very lucky to have her as your partner, and then, as if the universe would like to laugh at you, Professor Nakia announced that she was switching partners.

The whole class let out a chorus of dissatisfaction, and one student asked aloud.

- Please, Professor Nakia, we have been working with the same people for three years. Why change now?

- Excellent question, Miss Quinn. - Nakia said, smiling. She was at her desk, finishing putting her materials on top. - Three years is more than enough time for you to create tricks to cheat on my exams.

The room exchanged complicit and guilty looks, and the teacher kept a serious posture.

- The school board found evidence to indicate this. - She explains. - I was very disappointed to learn that there were students cheating on the evaluation method not only in this class, but in several others. You will notice that all teachers with fixed groups will rotate them from now on. This was a decision made by the principal.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you would lose your amazing partner and were running the chance of ending up with someone irresponsible or slacker, just because some kids were careless at cheating. The room let out a chorus of understanding, and everyone began to move around as the teacher indicated the new groups. You ended up sitting with a guy named Vision, who you didn't really know, but you knew was quite popular because he was class speaker, and head of the fencing club.

- Hello, dear. - He greeted you as he sat down, putting his coat on the chair. Vision dressed very well; he was part of the group your classmates called "preps”, even if he was usually hanging out with jocks.

You made a noise with your mouth in greeting, but he didn't seem to mind your lack of sociability.

Fortunately, Vision was a decent chemistry partner. Although he was bossy, and had a habit of interrupting or explaining as if you were stupid, he was intelligent and knew how to do the experiments. You thought that was enough, since you would only have to put up with him in this class.

Feeling a glance at you, you raised your eyes from the notebook, and were slightly startled to notice Vision looking at you with amusement and curiosity, you frowned ready to ask what's wrong, but then he let out a dry laugh.

- I knew I knew you! - he declared. - You're the Presley freak!

Vision laughed lightly nostalgically, and you felt your face flush, turning your attention back to your notebook. He was talking about the Halloween party in freshman year, where you dressed up as Elvis Presley and the track team decided to nickname you "Presley Freak" for the next whole year. The teasing died down after a while, but Vision brought it back as if it were a good memory.

Fortunately he just shook his head with amusement, and didn't mention it again. When class was over, he didn't say goodbye on his way out, but you didn't care.

//-//

The story that all the teachers followed the new norm of switching partners was true. In History, you lost your partner Bucky Barnes to sit with Natasha Romanoff, equally quiet and intelligent. For the most part, you are satisfied with the partners you got.

But then in fourth period, biology class, you ended up partnering with someone you never imagined.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most popular girls in school. You didn't really know her. You were classmates during elementary school, and you even became friends with her twin brother in elementary school, Pietro Maximoff, before he became a complete idiot. But other than that, you didn't know much about her. Although you had a strange sympathy for the girl. Unlike the group of girls she hung out with, Wanda never tormented you at school. Or your friends. She was probably fake and sneaky like the others, but she left you alone, so you had nothing against her.

You were pulling your biology book out of your backpack as the teacher announced the new pairs, and you stopped in mid-motion when she said Maximoff and your name.

Wanda sat down beside you the next moment, smiling politely. You shook your head slightly, dropping your backpack on the floor.

Wanda was surprisingly nice. You didn't talk about anything unrelated to the subject, but she was quick enough to catch your ironic glances when Professor Darkholme made an inappropriate comment or a funny remark, and match it with a smile or a look.

As the class came to an end, Wanda nodded slightly at you, and you smiled back before gathering your materials.

It had been four months since classes had started, and you were already used to your new partners in class.

Vision was inconvenient in many comments, as if he took pleasure in recalling your most embarrassing moments in high school, but you learned to change the subject quickly whenever this happened. All you had to do was pretend you didn't know about some subject he mastered, only to hear him explain it to you in the most arrogant manner possible for the next few minutes, effectively distracting him.

Natasha Romanoff was exceptionally sarcastic and ironic, and you sometimes you felt that she was a more aggressive female version of your former partner Bucky Barnes. She was quite individualistic, and you had to make an effort not to get left behind, or you had to constantly remind her that you were a duo, but otherwise she was a good partner, and you were happy to invite her to lunch with you, which eventually became a habit after a week.

And then you had Wanda Maximoff. You weren't friends, but you had a strange kind of complicity as biology partners. You never would have guessed that Wanda would have a sense of humor so similar to yours. Two classes in a row, and you already had inside jokes about the way Ms. Darkholme caught the attention of her students. Two weeks in, and you two knew how to cheat your way through assignments. You didn't know how to make friends, and judging by the history of who Wanda was hanging out with, you had the impression that she wouldn't want to develop any kind of relationship with you. And honestly, this was your last year, you wouldn't see these people again, so you were more than satisfied to have just one good lab partner.

With the mid-winter vacations approaching, you were looking forward to getting some rest.

Non-Reader Pov

- God, Wanda, why are you talking about that weirdo again? - interrupted Vision impatiently. His girlfriend blinked in confusion, looking away awkwardly.

- I'm just commenting on a joke we…

- Really, Wanda? - He interrupted again with an accusing look. - It seems like all you do lately is "comment" on your little jokes in class. - He sneers as he settles down on the sofa. The two of them stand together outside the school, their group of friends watching the discussion with amusement. - I don't know why you talk to her at all. She is so silent and awkward with me in chemistry class.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, looking forward.

- I think your girlfriend has a girl crush. - Tony Stark sneered next, making everyone laugh. Wanda frowned, feeling her heart race.

- You are an idiot. - She grumbled impatiently, crossing her arms. Vision looked at her curiously.

- Honey, don't tell me that you actually appreciate that girl? - he asks ironically, and Wanda rolls her eyes without looking at him. Vision laughs.

And then Tony is holding out a craft-paper covered bottle to Vision, and he takes a sip, coughing slightly afterwards. Wanda frowns at the scene, but none of her friends seem concerned that they are drinking during school hours, as the bottle continues to pass in everyone's hand.

- You know, I think it's sweet that you have sympathy for that freak. - Tony comments a moment later and Wanda tells him to fuck off, making him laugh.

- I think we are witnessing a beautiful love story. - Mocks Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, approaching the three of them as she sits on Stark's lap. Wanda rolls her eyes, as the group laughs. And then Vision has a thoughtful expression.

- I have an idea. - He says slightly drunk, as he throws his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. - Let's make a bet.

Tony and Pepper let out excited exclamations, while Wanda frowns.

- What kind of bet?

- Well, you guys remember when the weirdo dressed up as Presley for Halloween, right? - he asked, and Tony and Pepper laughed, agreeing. - And then Pietro saw her kissing that girl who hang with the bikers, Jones something.

- Jessica. - Pepper clarified before taking another sip of her drink.

- Then we know she's a dyke. - Vision says, but Tony frowns.

- Wasn't she dating that guy with the long hair and the angry face?

- Barnes? - Vision asked and Tony nodded. - I don't think so. Anyway, she is into girls. - he said and the group nodded in agreement. - I mean the bet is this: I can prove that she is just like everyone else in this school. Give her a bit of our attention, and she will be completely obsessed.

- Vis, what are you talking about? - Wanda asked, and Vision laughed ironically.

- It's very simple, love. - He says. - You are hot. Everyone knows that, and even someone like her, who pretends not to be part of the social circles of this school, can see that. - He clarifies, and the group looks at him intently. Wanda doesn't say that she doesn't like being objectified, swallowing the bitter feeling in her stomach. - So my bet is that you win her over. It should take what, one or two dates for her to be completely in love with you.

The friends laugh in irony and Wanda thinks she should follow, but only a forced laugh escapes. Because of the alcohol, no one notices.

- This is ridiculous. - Wanda comments and then Vision looks at her with irony.

- Unless you're getting attached to the girl, dear. - He sneers, and the group laughs. Wanda swallows dryly, shaking her head in denial. - So, what's the problem? You'll just prove me right. And you will realize that there is nothing special about her.

- I think we can make this even more fun. - says Tony with a wicked smile. - I bet you a hundred bucks that Wanda will fall in love too.

Tony sneers and the group laughs with irony.

- As if anyone would even like that girl. - Vision declares, accepting another drink.

- How do we make sure it's working? - Tony asks and Vision bites his lip thoughtfully. Then he lets out an exclamation.

- Our trip! - he says, and then turns to Wanda. - Love, invite the weirdo to the cabin! We can watch you work.

Wanda frowns, but then the group is suggesting ideas of conquest, and laughing, and debauchery, and she hates it. But she smiles, and nods in agreement, accepting the liquor as the bottle comes into her hand.

Reader Pov

You intended to study during the winter vacations. And maybe get out of the room a little if Bruce or Monica visited. Your surprise was genuine when in your last biology term, Wanda Maximoff started talking to you about something other than the subject.

- Hey, are you doing anything this holiday? - she comments amiably. You didn't notice the looks Tony Stark was giving you two from the front seat.

- Huh... No?

- Are you asking me? - She replies with a smile. You blush, looking away at your notebook. Wanda bites her cheek, and it takes a moment for her to speak again. - I wanted to invite you to something.

You blink in surprise, looking at Wanda. She looks away from the board for a moment, as she wiggles her fingers against her own thigh.

- My friends and I are spending the holiday in a cabin. - She clarifies. - There's all this winter activities, you know. Skiing and stuff like that. I'd like you to come.

- Why? - The question slips out a little harshly, but you can't help it. Wanda looks away, and you almost apologize. But then Wanda smiles, shrugging.

- I'd like to get to know you better, I guess. - She says. - I think it would be fun if we could be friends outside of class.

You look at her suspiciously for a few seconds. But then you sigh, looking down at the notebooks.

- Alright, Wanda. - you say after a moment, ignoring the growing anxiety in your stomach. - Is it okay if I bring a friend?

- Of course! - She confirms excitedly. - You can take whoever you want, it's a big place.

The teacher gives a warning for side conversations next, and you shut up. You blush when Wanda approaches you to write down her phone number in her notebook. You are distracted enough not to notice her blushing slightly when Tony Stark gives her a mischievous look.

//-//

- So you actually said yes? - Bruce asked with surprise when you told him about the biology class, while you were having lunch together in the cafeteria. Monica had the same expression.

- Yes, and I would love it if you would go with me, because I think I am close to completely freak out. - You ask with mild desperation and your friends laugh. And then Monica is looking behind you.

- Look, I would be too. They are so... - She starts and you turn around, looking at the group of Wanda's friends a few meters away. The kids are sitting at the table, making noise with their loud laughter. One of them was throwing a football up in the air. A short boy walked past them and was pushed slightly. - I can't even define them.

You let out a grumble, laying your head on your arms on the table.

- This was a bad idea, wasn't it, guys? - you ask. - They're going to eat me alive.

- Why the long faces, nerds? - Natasha asked as she came over to the table, placing the tray of food next to Monica, staring at you.

And then your friends explained it to her, and you groaned in dissatisfaction when she started laughing.

- You've lost your mind, haven't you? - she asked wryly. - It's a trap, I'm sure.

- There's no reason for it. - You retorted, trying to eat a little. - Besides, it was Wanda who invited me. She said she'd like us to be friends.

- Look, I know that Maximoff is the least worst of the bunch. - Nat began as she opened her soda. - But she still hangs around with those idiots.

- Yeah, I know. - You agree with a sigh. And then you remember your classes. - I just... She has been surprisingly nice, you know? I think she was being sincere. It's just a trip, it's not the end of the world.

- Good to know you think that. - said Bruce. - Because I won't be able to go.

- What? - You then exclaim.

- I applied for an internship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Labs. - He remarks and you let out a grumble, remembering.

- Shit, it's true. - You say. - I completely forgot about it.

- Girl, I can't go either. - Informs Monica with a guilty expression, and you let out an exclamation. - I'm going to spend the holiday with my father.

You bury your face in your hands. And then you risk a glance at Natasha, and she laughs wryly.

- Don't even try. - She says. - Even if you paid me I wouldn't travel with Tony Stark.

- I'll pay you.

Nat laughs at your desperation, and stops eating, looking at you with surprising kindness.

- You, girl, are adorable and kind. A nerdy cute dork, and I'm sure that if that's not enough for those idiots, they're the problem, not you. - She assures you, and you smile wryly. - Don't worry about pleasing any of them, you're going to become friends with Wanda, aren't you? Try to enjoy the trip, and if anything happens, call me and I'll finish them all off.

You laugh, nodding slightly. You don't want to think so much about this trip, but you know it's going to be the only thing on your mind for the next few days.

The week ended quickly. And you were very anxious when the weekend arrived, and you received a text message from Wanda saying that she would pick you up at home on Saturday morning. You would spend the holiday at the Stark family's winter cottage, a property big enough to fit the whole group. Wanda said it was somewhere with mountains, near a lake, and you bit your lip, wondering if you should bring a bathing suit. Since it was snowing, you figured you wouldn't try to swim anywhere.

On Saturday you were up bright and early, your bags packed. You kissed your parents and your younger brother on the cheek before you left, finding a pickup truck parked in front of your house.

Wanda hugged you when you said good morning to her, and to the boys. Vision and Pietro were in this car, and she said that Tony was in the second car, and had gone for gas.

Vision drove towards the cabin next, and he tried a little small talk before shutting up. Wanda was in the passenger seat, and Vision let his hand rest on her thigh, and you didn't understand the bitter feeling in your stomach.

- God, put on some decent music! - asked Pietro, scrambling up on the seat beside you to reach for the radio.

- Leave it, Pietro! - complained Vision pushing the boy backwards. - You only want to play that emo shit!

Pietro laughed, not insisting. And Vision looked at you through the rearview mirror.

- Let's let our guest choose the music. - he said with a smile. You cleared your throat.

- Okay. - You agreed, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. You turned on Spotify next, and when Vision asked if it would be any longer, you bit the inside of your cheek. And then you put on some pop rock.

Nobody said anything, and you thought that somehow you had just passed some kind of test. But then your set list started, and when the classic rock song from the 50's started playing, Vision burst out laughing.

- They don't call you Presley Freak for nothing. - He scoffs, switching to the radio next.

- I like it. - Wanda comments surprising you, but neither Vision nor her brother change their debauched posture.

- Yes, yes, your taste is terrible too. - He replies with irony. You bite your lips as you watch Wanda roll her eyes and look away to the window. Vision lets Pietro choose the music next.

The cabin was really very big.

You guys met Tony's car on the way, but he didn't stop. It didn't take long for you to arrive. You smiled in appreciation at Pietro when he carried your bags inside.

You looked at the structure impressed. Tony Stark really was very rich. Hugging your arms lightly after feeling the cool breeze, you smiled politely at Wanda's other friends as they greeted you.

- I am Pepper Potts, and this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. - says the blonde girl cheerfully, as she waves to the other boys. - You must have met Tony by now.

- I think I've seen all of you at school. - You say feeling out of place, but they smile as they walk into the cabin. Tony hands the bags to the other boys, and then is throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you want to push him away for the inappropriate contact.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetie. - He says, and you blink when you feel the alcohol. - Who knew that nerds hid pretty girls with them?

The joke makes the group laugh, and you look around uncomfortably. Tony then releases you as you enter.

Pepper is the one who shares the rooms, and you are happy to know that you won't be sharing with anyone.

While you are unpacking upstairs on your bed, Wanda joins you.

- Hey. - She greets me as she enters and closes the door. You're folding your clothes.

- Hi, Wanda.

- Is everything okay? - she asks and you nod in agreement. - They can be a bit much sometimes, and I don't want you to get uncomfortable and... Do you like "Bewitched"?

The sudden question startles you and you blink in confusion. Wanda nods at the item in your hands. The T-shirt you are folding has the logo of the old sitcom you used to watch with your parents.

- Oh yes. - You sigh in agreement. - It is one of my favorite shows actually.

Wanda laughs in surprise, crossing her arms.

- Wow, I didn't know that. - She says. - I love this stuff. Vision thinks the jokes are stupid, so don't tell him I'm talking about it.

She jokes and you let out a wry exclamation.

- Why would I tell Vision anything? - You ask and Wanda hesitates slightly, but then smiles.

- No, it was just a figure of speech. - She clarifies as you fold your shirt.

- Right. - You say, not really understanding this conversation. - If you want, we can watch it together anytime. I think we'll have time to do it here.

Wanda looks at you with surprise and excitement.

- Really? I'd love to. - She confirms, and you smile as you finish packing.

The redhead clears her throat afterwards.

- I just wanted to check on you anyway. - she says. - I think Steve is cooking dinner tonight, so join us when you' re ready.

- Okay, Wanda. - You say. - Thanks.

She smiles before leaving. You stare at the Bewitched's T-shirt on your bed for a few moments before you leave.

Steve tries to cook some chicken breast. And he almost burns the kitchen down. So you are on your feet, investigating the cupboards, and although cooking is not your favorite activity, you don't mind making some chili for everyone.

- I love Mexican food. - Wanda comments excitedly as she stands next to you and watches you cook. The rest of the group is in the living room, the boys being very noisy as they throw a soccer ball around the room. You smile at the redhead next to you.

- God, did you see the picture that Tabitha Smith posted on instagram? - Pepper asked aloud, staring at her cell phone. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, a look of disgust on her face. Wanda approached her and quickly looked at the screen. - She put on silicone, I'm sure of it.

Wanda made a noise of agreement, exchanging a quick glance with you, clearly not caring one bit about the topic, and you smiled, turning your attention back to the pot. Pepper didn't notice and continued making comments about her classmates' social media posts.

- It's ready. - You announce. Your breath catches in your throat as Wanda puts her hand on your waist, leaning behind your back to taste the food. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you feel her cheeks flush.

But then she walks away next, and you struggle to disguise yourself as the boys are joining you, announcing that they are starving.

- Wow, this is delicious. - said Pepper as soon as you sat down at the table and started to eat. The group agreed, and you blushed with embarrassment. Soon they started talking among themselves, and you tried to keep up as best you could, but the topics weren't really of interest to you.

When you got back to the room, Tony proposed that you all play a game, and then he went through the storage room and came back carrying monopoly.

At first you thought it would be innocent fun, then there were drinks and gambling.

- It's a four! - shouted Tony excitedly. - That's my property, Wilson!

Sam let out a grumble of dissatisfaction as he moved his figure around the board. Tony laughed mischievously.

- So, how do you want me to pay the rent? - Sam asked and Tony made a thoughtful face.

- With a question. - Tony announces maliciously. - Among the people in this room, tell me who would you have sex with?

Sam laughs in surprise, as the group gives a chorus of excitement. You swallow dryly, uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. So far, the questions and challenges had been innocent and slightly awkward, but after a few beers, the group was clearly getting more excited in other respects.

- Careful with your answer, friend. - Vision warned, putting his arm possessively around Wanda's shoulders. You looked away to the board.

- That might be shocking for a straight guy, Vis. - Sam remarked with mild debauchery. - But not all of us are looking at the girls.

The group laughs in surprise, and Vision rolls his eyes.

- I would do Steve Rogers for sure. - Sam declares the next moment, and the group lets out a celebratory chorus. Steve laughs too, slightly surprised. Sam just smiles playfully, shrugging his shoulders. Then Steve steps forward, amusing himself by pretending to kiss him, and the group laughs. You smile awkwardly, not really understanding what everyone thinks is funny.

The game continues, and you are doing very well. You laugh when Pepper has to tell you all about the worst sexual experience she has ever had, but you are slightly uncomfortable when Steve has to demonstrate on a pillow his first time. A few rounds later, you grumble in dissatisfaction when you take a five and end up in jail.

- Whoa, that's has a punishment. - Tony announces when he sees your move. You look at him, and he looks excited. - Finally, Presley, your moment has come.

- Tony. - Wanda scolds him for his nickname, but Tony doesn't listen.

- Let me think about it. - He continues with a thoughtful expression, and then a mischievous gleam takes over his gaze. - Have you ever heard that shy girls are the biggest freaks in the room?

You swallow dryly, feeling your face heat up as the group lets out a laugh.

- I will not...

- Don't even start. - Tony interrupts your denial with a smile. - Don't spoil the fun. I'll give you a simple challenge.

You bite the inside of your cheek, frowning as you fight the urge to get up.

- Your sentence of freedom will be to give a hickey to the person who gets a six on the dice. - He declares, and the group lets out a chorus of excitement.

And then everyone is rushing to throw the dice and you cross your arms, feeling your face hot.

- If more than one person gets six, you'll give them both a hickey and win immunity for a round! - Tony laughs as he makes up the rules.

Pepper is the first to play, and lets out a despondent sigh when she draws two. And then Steve plays next, and complains when the die lands on four. Sam and Tony don't get six either. You hold your breath when Wanda rolls, and feel your heart race when the die stops.

- This should be interesting. - Vision comments with mild irony and mischief as he takes his arm off Wanda's shoulders, picking up the die stopped at six. Tony laughs and you can't keep your eyes on the redhead.

Vision gets a four. And then Pietro gets a six, and you grumble.

- I can't believe you're going to get both of the Maximoffs! - Wilson comments with amusement and you swallow dryly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

- Finally some action. - Pietro jokes as he approaches. He kneels in front of you, and you take a deep breath. - Come on, Y/N, it's just a silly challenge.

He tries to reassure you with a smile, and you try to ignore the staring eyes on the two of you. You think the boys are laughing as you bring your face closer to Pietro's outstretched neck, and land your lips on his skin. He smells like aftershave lotion, but it's just embarrassing to be so close. Pietro lets out a breathless chuckle as you begin to suck on his skin, and he clenches the support of the couch.

You stop quickly, and he pulls away. The red skin glows on his neck. He flashes you the seductive smile, and you look away, listening to the group celebrating.

- Next, please! - Tony says clearly intoxicated. You feel your racing heart echoing in your ears. Wanda gets up from the couch, and unlike her brother, she completely short-circuits your brain when she sits on your lap. You think someone whistled.

- Wanda, what are you doing? - You mumble clumsily, and she just smiles as she puts her hands on your shoulders.

- Don't you like this position? - she asks and you swallow dryly.

- Come on, girls! - Tony tells you between laughs. Someone knocks over the vodka bottle on the floor, making a mess. You think the group is barely paying attention to you, fighting among themselves to save the rest of the board and Tony's expensive rug, but you're not really taking in anything other than the girl on your lap.

You move forward, sinking your face into her neck and inhaling Wanda's scent. When you let out your breath, she trembles and squeezes your shoulder lightly, making you swallow dryly.

You let your lips kiss her skin, watching Wanda's chest rise and fall, indicating her unregulated breathing. And then you lick her skin, and she chokes. When you suck on her skin, she bites her lips hard, stopping herself from moaning. And then you let go.

Ignoring the urge to kiss the red dot again, you throw your back against the armchair, moving away. Wanda lets out a breath, and before you can say anything, Tony is complaining that the game is over because the board has been ruined, and she rushes off your lap.

Your face is very hot when Sam makes a snide remark to you, and then you are all saying goodnight. You don't have the courage to look at Wanda when you go up to your room.

//-//

The next day you go skiing.

You absolutely suck at it, but so does everybody else, so nobody really cares.

You don't want to think so much about Wanda's hands on your waist when she teaches you how to do it.

You also don't want to be so annoyed when Vision insists on getting a kiss from her while you are walking back to the cabin.

During the afternoon, you are distracted by a video game with Pietro, extremely surprised that he has invited you to do something. After dinner you go back to your room to read a little, and are astonished when Wanda appears at your door a few minutes after you have gone upstairs.

- How about we watch a sitcom together? - She invites you in, and you shrug as you smile, making space for her to enter your room. She giggles when she notices the open book on your bed. - Of course you brought a book.

You laugh awkwardly as you close the door. Wanda throws herself on your bed, opening the laptop she has brought with her. You take the book out and place it closed on the dresser, before joining her, trying to keep a respectable distance.

She ends up putting on Bewitched, and you are distracted enough by the program.

- Wow, that's kind of wrong. - You comment between giggles. And Wanda laughs lightly, turning the program's attention to you.

- What?

- The joke. - You clarify. - The way they imply that it's okay for boys to behave like that.

- Yeah, I know. - She agrees, turning her attention back to the screen. - But we're still laughing.

- Yeah. - You agree, laughing. - I guess it's okay as long as we don't find it funny in real life.

Wanda makes a noise of agreement with her mouth and then you are silent again.

Two episodes later, Wanda suggests that you eat something. Then you go downstairs to the kitchen, and find the room empty.

- Pietro had called the boys to play soccer. - She says. - And I think Pepper and Tony are in their room.

You nod in understanding, following her around the kitchen. Wanda starts preparing a snack for you two.

- What is it? - You ask as you observe her choice of ingredients. She smiles mischievously.

- My masterpiece. - She says. - Just trust me, you'll like it.

You laugh, nodding. When she warms the bread rolls, and starts to pour oregano on top you let out an exclamation.

- Wanda, are you sure you know what you're doing?

She laughs, shaking her head slightly.

- Trust me on this. - She asks with a smile, starting to cut tomatoes. You cross your arms, not believing that you are actually going to eat that.

And then the sandwich is ready, and Wanda assumes a cheerful posture. She puts the bread on a plate and turns to you, leaving the object on the counter beside you.

You take a piece while she takes another, and together you taste the sandwich while Wanda looks at you expectantly.

It's surprisingly good, and you blink in amazement when you feel the taste, looking away from her to the food.

- Wow, that's good. - You comment before taking another bite. Wanda smiles.

- Really? I'm glad you like it. Vision doesn't like it very much, he says it tastes strange.

You grumble lightly, continuing to eat. Wanda pours you two some soda. You are silent for a moment and when she leaves the phone on the countertop to wash the dishes, your gaze runs quickly across the screen as you reach for your glass.

- Hey, are you into poetry? - you ask as you look at the open Instagram post.

Wanda smiles, nodding.

- That's cool, I think we follow the same page. - You comment quickly pointing to her unlocked cell phone. Wanda looks surprised.

When she finishes washing the dishes, she asks to borrow your cell phone. You spend the next thirty minutes laughing and joking as you compare your Instagram feeds and follower list. You don't want to overthink on how many common interests you have with Wanda.

//-//

On the penultimate day you want to build a snowman.

There is a Hockey game on TV, and everyone seems excited to watch. So you just walk out of the cabin while Tony hands out snacks and drinks to everyone.

You are just finishing assembling the body when you hear footsteps.

- You are very antisocial. - Wanda jokes as she approaches, hands in her pockets. You don't want to think about how adorable she looks.

- Yeah, I know. - You comment with your attention on the snowman. - It's not your friends' fault, by the way, I'm just not a big sports fan.

- All right, I don't see what's so funny about it either. - She says as she stops beside you. - Can I help you with him?

- Let me see your hands. - You ask, and she looks at you in confusion, taking her hands out of her pockets. You deny it. - No gloves, no playing. I don't want you to get hypothermia.

She laughs lightly, putting her hands back in her pockets. You turn your attention back to the snowman.

- We can go for a walk. - You suggest after a moment. - Since we're not going to watch the game.

Wanda smiles, looking away to the cabin.

- Okay.

You finish your snowman in silence. It's decent you think.

- I used to do it all the time. - You tell her as you stand up, putting your hands in your pockets. Wanda looks at you curiously. - But then I grew up and my parents thought it was a kid thing.

- Yeah, I know how that is. - She agrees as you stare at the snowman. - One birthday is all it takes for the treatment to change completely.

You nod in agreement, and then you look at her, signaling for you to go the other way.

You walk side by side in the opposite direction of the cabin.

After spending the whole way talking about the most random subjects, you end up at a small pier, at the edge of the lake that covers the entire back stretch of the cabin. You and Wanda sit side by side on the wood cross-legged.

- We should have brought something hot to drink. - You comment with a smile, hugging your arms for a moment. Wanda nods.

- So, are you enjoying the trip? - Wanda asks and you look away, smiling at the lake.

- I suppose so.

- You suppose? - She replies with amusement, making you laugh.

You clear your throat before speaking again.

- I enjoyed the time I spent with you. - You confess, looking forward. Wanda wiggles her fingers nervously, looking away from you to face the lake as well. - Don't get me wrong, Wanda. Your friends are... nice I guess. But they're not the reason I'm here.

You look at Wanda, and she nods frantically. Your heart is racing, but playing games isn't exactly your thing. You want to know what's going on.

- And you? - you ask, studying her face. - Did you enjoy the time I was here?

- Yes. - Wanda confesses breathlessly, her face flushing slightly.

Swallowing hard, you look away to the lake again. And then you slowly move your hand against the wood, reaching for Wanda's hand next. You give it enough time for her to move away, or to strike you, and she does neither. Feeling your heart soar, you intertwine your hands, holding back a sigh at how good it feels even when wearing gloves.

Several minutes later, you let out an excited exclamation when you hear a noise in the nearby forest. Turning your head, you confirm your suspicions. A small white fox is looking at you curiously.

You help Wanda to get up quietly and slowly so as not to startle the animal.

- Hey. - You say softly to the animal, walking towards it. The fox looks at you wide-eyed, but your posture doesn't frighten him. You smile when he lets you pet him.

- He is so cute. - Wanda comments softly, kneeling down beside you. The fox lies down on the grass as the redhead strokes his head.

He tires of the attention quickly however, and the next moment he gives you a look before running back into the forest. You and Wanda laugh lightly as you two stand up.

You walk back to the cabin in silence, a tension in the air that makes your stomach turn. You don't hold hands, but you walk very close together.

When you are almost to the cabin area, you stand in front of Wanda, pushing her by the waist against a tree. You both sigh breathlessly, but you lose the courage. It's not right, not yet. Resting your forehead on hers, resisting the urge to kiss her, you close your eyes.

- Leave him. - You say and Wanda squeezes her hands in your arms.

Wanda lets out a sigh, closing her eyes like you did, and your faces come closer together.

- I won't share you, Wanda. - You whisper against her lips. - Either you're with me, or you're not.

Resisting the urge to close the distance, you sigh and turn away. Wanda's pupils are dilated as she looks at you. You lock your jaw, putting your hands in your pockets. And then you turn around, and disguise it nicely when Pepper comes out of the cabin, asking where you were, and you just smile and say you went for a walk.

//-//

Vision and Wanda argue on the last day at the cabin.

You frown as your awakened by the volume of the argument. But you decide not to pry, and when Pepper signals for you to join her on her morning walk, you agree.

- You know, you are surprisingly nice. - She comments as you two take a break for some water.

- Thanks, I guess. - You mumble, and she laughs.

- What I mean is that nerds are usually know-it-all types and not at all sociable. - She explains. - You're quiet, but you're fun.

- Who says I'm not a know-it-all. - You retort with amusement, and Pepper laughs as you walk back.

- I'm just saying that it turned out to be nice to invite you over despite everything.

- Despite everything what?

Pepper laughs awkwardly, shaking her head.

- The differences between our groups I say. - She quickly clarifies. You don't perceive the lie. - Maybe there is a chance for us to remain friends after here.

- Why wouldn't we? - you ask confused. Pepper seems to be talking as if it is impossible for you to continue talking to each other after the trip is over, and you don't understand why.

Pepper blinks in embarrassment, and then pats your arm, hurrying her steps.

- It's nothing, I'm just overthinking it. - she says. - I'm sure it will all work out.

You don't ask any more questions because she's walking too fast, and exercise isn't really your thing. You're struggling to keep up.

//-//

After your walk with Pepper, you agreed to let Steve teach you how to play a bit of hockey. And then you all had lunch together, and Wanda avoided all your attempts to start a conversation with her. You figured she was upset with her boyfriend, so you didn't press her.

Later in the afternoon, after you played snowball wars with everyone, and perhaps laughed more than appropriate when Wanda kept hitting Vision in the face, Steve made a fire in the backyard area and everyone gathered around.

- Let's tell some horror stories, please? - Pietro asked as he sat down, and Tony slapped him on the head, laughing.

- You are such a baby. - he sneered, holding out a bottle of whiskey to Steve. You rolled your eyes, impatient with Stark's annoying mania for proving his maturity.

Then he began to share sex stories, and the group seemed happy to join in. The bottle swirled around, and you let it pass you by without taking a sip. It stopped at Wanda, and she drank much more than anyone else.

- And you, Y/N, don't you have any sinful stories to share with the group? - teased Tony ironically, and you rolled your eyes.

- I prefer to be silent.

Tony laughed at her hostility.

- Now all that's left is for you to say you're a virgin! - he sneered, causing the group to laugh. You exchanged a quick glance with Wanda, who didn't even seem to be listening, the whiskey bottle still in her hands.

- I'm not, but if I were that wouldn't be your business - You retort impatiently. Tony whistles impressed.

- Tell us how it was! - he asks excitedly. - I bet it was Jessica Jones who fucked the weirdo!

You stand up abruptly as the group laughs.

- You're drunk, and you're talking shit. - you say angrily. - But if you ever annoy me again, I will punch you right in the face!

Tony seems slightly impressed by your attitude, but he is clearly drunk so he shrugs his shoulders. You then leave, returning to your room.

Non-Reader Povs

- What is your problem? - Pietro complained as soon as Y/N entered the cabin. Tony blinked surprised and alcoholic.

- It was just a joke, it's not my fault she's weird. - He retorted with a wry laugh.

Pietro let out an irritated exclamation.

- You know what? - He spoke angrily, looking at everyone. - What we're doing is wrong.

- What was that? - Vision sneered, but Pietro looked at him seriously.

- You heard me. - he said, getting up. - She's a nice girl and she's been fun to be with. That bet was stupid.

The teens exchange guilty glances, but then Tony and Vision are laughing.

- One hickey and you're in love, Maximoff? - Vision sneered and stood up, as Pietro clenched his jaw.

- You're an asshole.

- Oh, I'm an asshole? - Vision retorted ironically. - This little scene of yours is absurd, treating your friends as if we were the villains of the story. - he says laughing. - The girl is a weirdo who must be absolutely fascinated that people like us even talk to her!

Pietro looks at him impatiently, but Vision does not lose his debauched posture.

- Shut up. - Wanda's drunken speech startles the group. Vision turns to her in surprise, but then he laughs.

- That's excellent. - He says. - Both Maximoffs teaming up against the group.

- You're full of shit. - Wanda exclaimed angrily, getting up, and Vision shook her head. - She's not...

- She's not what dear? - He interrupted. - You know I'm right. In fact, I bet if you go up to her room right now, you won't even need to ask twice and she'll fuck you.

- Vision! - Pietro exclaims angrily, but he stares only at the redhead, who has her jaw clenched.

- Everyone just wants to fuck you, Wandy. - He says. - There's nothing worthwhile beyond that.

Wanda holds back the tears in her eyes, bumping into Vision as she leaves, and the boy laughs, shouting between giggles that he was only joking, but the redhead doesn't turn around.

- That was cruel. - Potts then said, and Vision let out a wry laugh.

- It was just a joke. - He says and sits back down. - You girls are so sentimental.

Pietro then leaves, and Vision rolls his eyes. Steve and Sam exchange a look with Pepper.

- You can't really think it's okay to say something like that to your girlfriend. - Steve said annoyed. Vision laughs, incredulous at Steve's insinuation. - What is it, people? - he replies. - I just said she's hot, how is that a bad thing?

- You know, Pietro is right. - Steve said as he got up. - This whole story is absurd. - Steve, come on. - No, he is right. - Sam then agreed. And then Pepper stood up, exchanging a look with Tony. - Good, then. - Vision exclaims angrily. - Be my guests! I suppose you'll start hanging out with the school's weirdos on Monday then. You guys are a joke. Hypocrites. Vision grumbles before exiting angrily, walking towards the trail. The group exchanged a guilty look.

Reader Pov

You had just finished showering and putting on your pajamas when Wanda came into your room. You frowned in surprise, and let out an exclamation when she pushed you onto the bed and sat you on your lap.

- What are you doing? - you asked, and Wanda just grumbled, trying to unbutton your pajamas, but clearly too drunk to do so. - Wanda, stop. Wanda!

- That's what you want, isn't it? - She retorts with irritation, but her eyes are filled with tears. - Everyone wants to fuck the hot girl.

- Wanda, what are you talking about?

But then she's crying, falling against you. You let your arms go around her, trying to calm her down. She only stops crying when she falls asleep.

You don't know what has happened, but you feel your heart clench. Moving to the bed, you lay Wanda down on the mattress, then cover her with the blanket.

When you consider going to sleep in the living room, she takes your hand and whispers "stay," and you obey her.

//-//

You wake up with Wanda entwined with you. It is warm and comforting, and you smile shyly at the sensation.

The redhead starts to wake up next, grumbling as she buries her face in your neck, making you smile.

- We have to get up. - You whisper to her. - We're leaving.

- In a minute.

She says and it really only takes a moment for her to open her eyes, and be startled by the position. She awkwardly pulls away from your embrace, but still lies there. You turn on the bed to look at her, resting your face on your hand.

- I'm sorry about last night. - She says embarrassed, looking down.

- No problem. - You say. - But what was that about anyway?

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair as she stares at the ceiling, her back on the mattress.

- Vision told me some stupid things, and well, I believed him. - She says and you look at her curiously. With your silence, she clarifies. - It was just some comments he used to make about my body, okay? Things like, people are only interested in me because I'm hot.

You frown, surprised and annoyed.

- That's bullshit.

Wanda looks at you, surprised that you said something. You look into her eyes as you speak again.

- Your boyfriend is an insecure scumbag who uses your body insecurities against you. It's sick. - You tell her seriously. - You, Wanda Maximoff, are completely passionate for a thousand reasons other than your looks. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You smile at Wanda's surprised expression, letting your fingers wander across her features.

- Do you really mean that? - she asks insecurely, and you give her a tender look.

- You're sweet. - You start, letting your fingers caress her cheek. - Smart and sincere. You have this different energy, like you never fit anywhere and you're absolutely magnetic. - You tell her. - And of course, you also laugh at my jokes, which suggests that you are as sarcastic and perceptive as I am.

Wanda smiles and closes her eyes for a second, and then looks at you with almost guilt.

- Can I ask you a random question?

- Sure.

- If someone needed to apologize to you, what would be the best way?

- This is a very specific question, Wanda. Should I be concerned? - You retort with mild amusement, and Wanda quickly denies it.

- Come on, answer me. - She asks, and you giggle.

- I don't know, Wanda. - You say laughing, and roll your eyes slightly. - I guess it would depend on what the person did. - You explain, and Wanda looks at you with a frown. - What's that face, what would your answer be then?

- Food. - She says and you look at her with confusion. - The person would only have to buy me food and apologize and I would forgive them.

You let out a laugh, and Wanda follows. And then you assume a thoughtful posture.

- Honestly, I don't think if there is a right way. - You tell her. - I would like the person to be honest with me, and explain to me what happened. - You say, and Wanda nods with a serious expression. - That, or a really cheesy apology act.

- What? - Wanda asks with amusement.

- Yes, like in those old movies. - You clarify with a slight laugh. - If someone apologizes in the rain, or with a serenade at my window, I would probably forgive that person for the shame they are going through for me.

You and Wanda laugh and then your alarm clock starts to ring, signaling that it was already time for everyone to get up and go home. You sigh slightly.

As you sit up in bed, throwing your feet out, Wanda hugs your back, surprising you.

- Thank you. - She says against your ear. - Don't give up on me yet, okay?

You frown in confusion, laughing without understanding Wanda's seriousness. You squeeze your hands together, but then she lets go.

- Is everything all right? - you ask as she turns around on the bed and stands up in front of you. Wanda swallows dryly, nodding. She smiles before she leaves, and you ignore the strange feeling that has settled on the pit of your stomach as you stand up toward the bathroom.

//-//

The way back to your house is strangely silent. It seems that all of Wanda's friends have changed their personalities overnight. Pietro gives you a quick hug across the shoulders as you get out of the car, and Wanda kisses your cheek. Vision doesn't look at you.

You call your friends as soon as you finish packing your things in your room. And everyone is extremely surprised when you share what has happened in the last few days.

When you return to school the next day, you are feeling excited.

Your first class is Biology, which means that you would have some time alone with Wanda, and while you wait for the starting bell, sitting on the benches outside with your friends, Wanda's group passes you by.

You frown as you notice Vision with his arm around Wanda, and she quickly looks away when she notices you watching. You clench your jaw at the childish attitude, and then you are getting up and walking toward the table they have chosen.

- Can I talk to you? - You ask the redhead directly, who seems to have trouble keeping her gaze on you. Her friends also look awkward, as if they are almost embarrassed, and none of them look at you for very long. Completely unlike Vision, who has a smug posture and a wry smile.

- Leave my girlfriend alone, freak. - He then says, and you blink in surprise.

- What is your problem? - You retort in irritation and Vision lets out a wry laugh.

- What is your problem? - He repeats, getting up and facing you. You don't hesitate, but you don't understand why everyone just stares at you. - What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would start hanging out with the cool kids?

You look at him in confusion, and then he crosses his arms.

- I just want to talk to Wanda.

Vision laughed, looking mocking.

- You're so stupid. - He accused and you took a step back. - The bet is off girl, Wanda has nothing to say.

You blink in confusion, and the redhead is getting up, pulling on her boyfriend's forearm, but you look at them feeling your heart racing.

- What are you talking about?

Vision laughs, releasing Wanda's grip. You think she whispered "Please don't," but you are trying to understand what is going on.

- Oh, your dear friend didn't tell you? - he asks debauchedly. - We had a bet. I was sure you'd be completely obsessed with Wanda by the end of the holiday, and look at you! Here you are. I don't blame you though, Wanda is hot.

You choke in surprise, taking another step back. You risk a glance at the rest of the group, and they have their heads down, guilty looks on their faces. And then you look at Wanda, eyes watering as she clenches her fists. Feeling your heart break, and your stomach clench, you nod.

- Y/N, I can explain. - Wanda starts and you laugh, running your hands through your hair.

- I've always defended you. - You say, putting your hands in your pockets. - When people told me you were false and deceitful, I defended you. I really thought you were different from them.

- I....

- I can't believe I trusted you. - You say. - Never speak to me again, Wanda Maximoff.

You turned around walking away, ignoring the times the redhead called your name as you held back your tears.

//-//

Your mother told the school that you were sick.

That's how you felt anyway.

It had been three days since you had left your room. Bruce, Monica and Natasha were sending you all the school content you were missing, and you struggled to keep your focus on that and not on the heartbreak that seemed to take over your whole body.

The weekend arrived again, and you decided to get some fresh air. You were on your balcony, sipping hot chocolate when Nat came into your yard.

- Hey, stranger. - She greets you with a smile, sitting down on the seat in front of you. You give her a sad smile.

- Hi, Nat.

- How are you?

You shrug, and she sighs.

- It will pass, I promise. - She says and you drink some of your chocolate. - By the way, I'm suspended.

- What? - You ask in surprise, and she giggles, showing you the bandage on the fingers of her right hand.

- I punched Vision in the nose shortly after you left the cafeteria. - She tells you, and you widen your eyes in surprise. - I didn't say anything before because I didn't want you to feel guilty.

- Nat! - you exclaim, slightly upset, looking at her hand. - You didn't have to do that.

- I know. - she says with a slight laugh. - But you are my friend, and he is an idiot. You're a dork who doesn't have the strength to hurt a fly, but I have a feeling you'd do the same for me.

You laugh, nodding.

- I would probably get beat up in reality.

Nat laughs in agreement.

You are silent for a moment, until Nat speaks again.

- I hate to see you like this. - She comments, and you sigh, leaving the coffee mug on the table.

- I hate feeling like this too.

Nat sighs, opening her arms. You accept her invitation to hug her, and sit down next to her on the bench, letting her wrap you in a side hug.

- You'll come out of this, dear. - She starts to say as she strokes your hair. - Next year you'll be in college, with so many people wanting to get into your pants that you won't even remember who Wanda Maximoff was.

You laugh shyly.

- I hope you are right. - You grumble, closing your eyes.

- I always am.

//-//

You go back to school the following week.

Your body always seems to notice that Wanda is in the same room as you, even though she is meters away, but you learn to deal with the feeling.

You talked to the biology teacher on Monday morning. Apparently, the news quickly spread throughout the school, and she did not refuse to change your partner.

It wasn't an ideal scenario knowing that everyone in the school was feeling sorry for you, but at least you wouldn't have to talk to Wanda in class.

And so two weeks passed.

You were almost getting used to the feeling as you walked towards the main building, after stopping by the library and returning the physics books you were using, when you heard a commotion in the courtyard.

There was already a circle of students around, and you were considering turning around, because fights are not really your thing, but you had a feeling you should check it out.

As you slipped in among the students, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- Bruce! - You shouted as you threw the bag on the ground and lunged forward, but the boy who was fighting with your friend just turned around when you jumped at him, breaking free of your grip and laughing with irony and anger. He slapped you in the face that drew a surprised chorus from the crowd. You staggered back with the impact, feeling your face burn. But you stepped forward again, but he gave you a hard shove that knocked you to the ground. As you got up to go forward again, someone grabbed you around the waist. - Pietro, let me go! Help him!

You let out another exclamation when the boy punched Bruce in the face, but Pietro pushed you away from the fight, and Steve held you by the arms in the crowd. Pietro lunged at the boy next, while Bruce fell unconscious.

You broke free of Steve's grip and ran to your friend, and then there were teachers all around you, and you were all being led into the principal's office.

The counselor motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs to wait your turn, and you used this moment to send messages to your friends. Monica told you that she heard about the fight, but that she was in the history room when it happened. Natasha didn't answer, and when she appeared in front of you, you frowned.

- Nat, Bruce he...

- I know. - She interrupted seriously with an almost tearful expression. - He was fighting for me.

- For you? What?

Nat shook her head, looking toward the direction door.

- I told him not to get involved, but he is stubborn. - She says and then takes a deep breath. - That boy over there, his name is Clint. He's my ex. He... he hit me.

- Whoa, what?

- I know, it's too much to explain. - She says. - Me and Bruce, we... we've been going out for a few weeks now. And Clint wasn't happy when he found out. I told Bruce not to get involved but…

- Hey, Nat breathes. - You interrupt by seeing her eyes filled with tears. - This is not your fault.

You hug your friend, trying to calm her down. It doesn't take long for Monica to reach you two.

Soon the director calls you to give your side of the story, and you just tell him that you arrived in the middle of the fight. As you leave, the principal asks you to go to the infirmary and only then you remember that you were beaten.

You give up the idea of getting a bandage when you find Pietro and the group of friends, including Wanda, in the infirmary, but as soon as the nurse lays eyes on you, she pulls you in, sitting you down on one of the free beds.

She starts grumbling that the students have decided to behave like savages as she rushes over with the first aid kits to attend to all the students who were in the infirmary. You don't quite understand what happened, but it seemed that some kids had made a mess in the pesticide gardening class, so there were several students with red spots on their arms complaining of pain.

- It's okay, I can do it. - You tell the nurse as soon as she approaches you with the first aid kit. She looks at you suspiciously, but then a student at your back lets out a complaint and she sighs, handing the items to you as she leaves. You get up to look in the small mirror on the edge of the bed. There is a small cut on your cheek. That guy really hit hard.

While you were preparing the alcohol swab, Wanda walked over to you. You stared at her reflection in the mirror.

- I can help you with this. - She said about the bandage.

- I don't need your help. - You retorted harshly. Wanda looked at the floor.

- I am sorry.

You blinked in surprise, and turned away in irritation.

- No. - You warned, and Wanda swallowed hard. She looked at you, ready to start talking again, but then you shook your head. - Don't you dare.

- Please…

But you left right away, bumping into her shoulder.

Almost four weeks, and your chest still hurts just the same.

You think the nurse has called you, but you keep walking towards the exit.

When you reached the outer courtyard, you collapsed.

Sitting on the floor, and trying to control your breathing and your crying, you were startled when someone touched your shoulders. Monica didn't ask questions, she just hugged you.

- I can't do it, Mon. - You said between sobs. - I love her so much it feels like I'm going to suffocate.

- Shh, it's okay. - Monica tried to calm you down as she ran her hands down your back.

- Why can't I move on? She hurt me, why can't I stop loving her? - you asked in desperation. Monica just kept calming you.

- I know it feels like the end of the world now. - Monica says. - But I promise it will pass.

You cried for a few more minutes, trying to push or smother the pain away. It wasn't fair the way Wanda had your broken heart in her hand.

//-//

Bruce did not suffer any serious injuries.

You visited him in the infirmary as soon as he was released from the principal's office. He was worried about your swollen crying eyes, but you assured him that everything was fine.

And then he told you that he was in love with Natasha, and that Clint had been expelled. You shook his hand, saying that everything would be all right now. Soon Nat was in the room with you, hugging Bruce, while you went out with Monica to get something to eat.

The week passed quietly after this.

Your friends started the "Moving on squad", and they did everything to keep you distracted and well cared for. It was sweet and caring, and it was enough to keep your feelings well under control.

A few days after that mess, you needed to buy tomato sauce for your mother and found Pietro Maximoff in the supermarket checkout line.

- Hey. - He greeted you politely. You felt your heart race at the possibility that he was with his sister.

- Hi, Pietro. - You answered in the same tone.

You were checking around for signs of the redhead, but Pietro was alone. He said something about the prices, and you just grumbled in agreement, and then it was your turn.

In the parking lot, while you were unlocking your bike, he approached you again.

- I want to apologize to you. - He announced as he approached, and you let out a sigh.

- Look Pietro...

- No. - He interrupts with a quick smile. - I meant it. I'm really sorry. You're a nice girl, and we were idiots.

You stare at him for a moment, then go back to picking the lock.

- Is that all?

- Yes. - He confirms with a wry smile. But when he turns around, you call out to him.

- I... Thank you for that day. - You say. - You pulled me out of the fight. I probably would have got hurt if... what I mean is...

- It's all right.- He interrupts with a smile. - It was nothing.

You nodded and he smiled, turning again and walking away. You finished unlocking the lock and got on your bike.

//-//

The next week you were surprised to find a box of chocolate in your closet.

Nat exchanged a mischievous look with you, and you rolled your eyes absentmindedly, opening the package. It didn't have a name on it, and only said "you are cute".

- I can't believe you have a secret admirer. - Monica commented excitedly when you told her during lunch. Bruce and Natasha were sitting next to you, laughing lightly as they talked among themselves.

- Neither do I. - You comment with humor. - But the chocolates were good at least.

- I think it’s sweet. - She comments with a smile, and you shrug, blushing.

- It's weird. - You say with a slight laugh, and Monica squeezes your red cheeks lightly, saying that you're adorable, making you laugh. - Damn, I'm terrible at these things.

You start talking about the upcoming exams after that, and then the break ends.

It is in the last period of PE that you speak with Pietro again several days after you saw him last.

- Hey. - He greets you with an excited nod. You smile politely as you tie your shoelaces.

- Hi. - You say as he joins you.

- Are you going to the game on Saturday? - he asks, causing you to frown.

- I'm not...

- My god this guy never gives up. - He interrupts with a scowl, looking at something behind you. You turn your head to see what it is, and notice Vision talking to Wanda several feet ahead, near the bleachers. The redhead looks impatient, and you feel your heart ache just by looking directly at her. Shifting your gaze back to Pietro, you notice that he is still grimacing. - They've been broken up for over a month and he still keeps insisting.

You blink in surprise and Pietro looks back at you.

- They broke up?

- I thought you knew. - He quips, slightly surprised, and then shrugs his shoulders. - They broke up that day in the yard. Wanda slapped him in the face in front of the whole school, everyone talked about it for weeks.

- I'm not really into school gossip. - You comment and Pietro laughs.

- Of course not.

You stand up next, your gaze quickly shifting to Wanda, but you disguise it by looking at Pietro, who has an expectant expression on his face. Then you remember the question and let out an exclamation, running your hands through your hair.

- I'm not into sports, Pietro. - You tell him and he nods in understanding, looking upset. - But I like the food. And Natasha loves the games, so maybe I'll show up with my friends there.

Pietro lets out an excited exclamation, and gives you a pat on the shoulder, saying he hopes you can make it, before heading out onto the court.

You ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach when your gaze meets Wanda's on the other side of the court, and you quickly turn away, starting to do your exercises for class.

//-//

You were slightly surprised by Natasha's outfit. She was covered head to toe in school colors, down to a commemorative hat and matching socks. You looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just smiled as she pulled you by the hand to Monica's truck.

- How is the story about the secret admirer going? - Nat asked as you sat in the back seat, and Monica drove to school and Bruce fiddled with the radio.

- I received flowers on Wednesday. - You tell with a smile. - And a collection of special gift vouchers.

- What are these? - She asked curiously, and Monica laughed lightly as you felt your cheeks flush.

- It's a special kind of ... eh ... vouchers for hugs, kisses, that sort of thing. - You mumbled clumsily and Natasha laughed.

- My goodness, look at your face! - She laughed. - You are loving how corny this is.

You grumbled with a hot face, turning your gaze to the window. Bruce chose a very good song next, and your friends started singing along. It didn't take long before you joined them.

//-//

The school stadium was quite crowded. Senior year games always had scouts from universities, so you weren't surprised by family members, and well-dressed strangers in the stands, as well as faculty.

- Wow, Mom is going to have fun today. - Monica commented as two you walked to the bleachers. She was looking at her cell phone, and showed you a picture of two glasses of wine that Maria had sent her. - She has a date.

- Have you met them? - you asked curiously, and Monica made a noise with her mouth of agreement.

- She's from the Air Force. Very pretty and fun, and she treated me very well. - She told you with a smile. - I hope everything works out between them, Mom deserves to be happy.

You nod in agreement and then you find empty chairs. Bruce and Natasha join you many moments later, carrying the food.

- Yay, fries. - Monica says excitedly as Natasha distributes the food among you.

The band then enters the stadium. And the crowd seems excited, you and Monica laugh at Natasha's excitement.

As soon as the band makes their formation, the cheerleaders enter the field and the crowd cheers. You try not to look at Wanda so immediately, but that is exactly what you do. When they are all in the center, and finish the performance with lots of applause, the director gets up on the stage and starts announcing the game.

- And without further ado, West View High let's...

The principal is interrupted abruptly by one of the students. You and the audience watch intently as Pepper nudges the principal on the shoulder, and he turns around confused and surprised. She smiles innocently as she quickly takes the microphone from his hand.

- We had a slight change of plans, West View. - she announces, smiling. And then the band is moving on, and you recognize the music quickly. It was an old rock song. The audience sings along excitedly, surprised and in shock, but still happy with the music.

As the music plays, Pepper turns back to the director, and they discuss something. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and she gives an excited little jump, and then is joining the cheering team again.

When the song ends, it is not Pepper who comes up to the podium with the microphone, but Wanda, which generates a lot of comments from the audience.

- Is that? - Natasha starts and you feel your stomach turn.

- Yep.

- Hello West View. - Wanda begins looking nervous, the audience looks at her in anticipation. - Many of you must think me a complete bitch after the rumors that surfaced a few weeks ago.

- Oh my God. - You mumble clumsily, feeling the stares of some people on you.

- I think I should explain what happened. - Wanda says tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and ignoring the comments from the audience, she continues talking. - My ex-boyfriend and my best friends decided to make a bet. - She explains, and you clench your jaw. - He bet my friends that if I gave even the slightest bit of attention to our colleague, Y/N Y/L/N, she would become obsessed with me in one weekend. - The audience seems shocked by the confessions, but Wanda was looking at you. - The funny thing is, it was the exact opposite. Y/N is this amazing girl, sweet and caring, and I can't stop thinking about her. It must be because I am completely in love with her. - She confessed, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. - But I blew it. I was mean and cruel, and I'm sorry. I'm here to apologize to you Y/N, and you don't even have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know.

The audience erupted in murmurs at the confession, and you were in shock to react. Wanda was also teary-eyed.

A mixture of "forgive her" and " start the game" and various other comments began to grow louder, and then Director Fury was approaching Wanda, and asking for the microphone back. She took one last look at you, before bowing her head and walking off the field. The audience let out a mixed chorus of celebration and sadness, and then Monica was pushing you slightly, and you waved frantically as you hurried to catch up to Wanda.

- I can't believe you did that! - You shout at her as soon as you reach her in the gymnasium hallway, the noise of the game starting muffled by the distance.

Wanda turns around in surprise, wiping away tears.

- I just...

- When I said the perfect apology would be like a cliché, I can't believe you took it seriously. - You comment as you approach laughing lightly. Wanda looks surprised at your friendly posture. - You are such a dork.

And then you kiss her as you bring your hands to her waist, and she sighs in astonishment, but responds the next second, trembling as your tongues touch.

You push her against the wall of the hallway, and she slips her arms around your shoulders, melting into the kiss. You separate your mouths for breath.

- I'm sorry. - She asks again with her eyes closed. - I'm really sorry.

- I know. - You agree breathlessly. - Just... don't ever do anything like that again.

She nods in agreement, kissing you again. It's delicious the way your tongues feel together, making your head spin. You are blushing because Wanda is sighing and making a warm tightness rise in the pit of your stomach.

- I love you too, Wands. - You confess against her lips and she opens her eyes in surprise, you look at her with a smile. - I guess ever since you laughed at my joke in biology class.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, her eyes sparkling with joy.

- I love you. - She answers by kissing you quickly. - I love you. - She repeats and starts depositing kisses all over your face, making you laugh. She repeats and repeats until you kiss her again, intensely this time.

You stay like this for several minutes. Exchanging not-so-innocent kisses against the gymnasium wall. Until the first half of the game is over, and you hear the sound of the players returning to the locker room, and then Pietro is reaching for you, making a false threatening posture when he notices your swollen lips, and Wanda's lipstick on your face.

- Please get a room. - He then jokes, continuing on his way to the locker room.

You and Wanda agree to leave the stadium, wanting to enjoy some time together without the stares of the audience on you.

You two end up in the back of Monica's truck, staring up at the stars, your hands entwined.

- So it was you who sent the presents. - You conclude by looking at Wanda quickly, to catch her blushing cheeks.

- I was trying to find a way to talk to you. - She explained, turning to you, releasing her hand only to stroke your cheek. - That's why I made the voucher “worth a conversation”.

You laughed lightly, looking at her fondly.

- I liked the kiss coupon. - You say with amusement and she raises her eyebrow, smiling.

- Yeah? - She replies, bringing your faces together and stealing a lingering kiss from you.

- Best one.

Wanda laughs, pulling away a little. You swallow dryly, watching her carefully.

- What happens now? - you ask, and Wanda looks into your eyes.

- I don't know. - She says. - But I hope we'll be together in the end.

You smile, nodding.

- We will. - You assure her before adjusting your position to embrace her. Wanda snuggles against you, enjoying your warmth.

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wandamaximoff x reader #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda maximoffxreader #marvel imagines #high school au

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letarasstuff · 4 years

Text

A touchy Subject

(A/N): This is requested by an anon. It is based on this post.

Summary: Some people don’t like to be touched, which can interpreted into the wrong thing.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, but it’s only a false accusation

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“That’s why I’ll write to the NYPD they are looking for a-” Hotch wants to explain, but is cut off by a phone ringing. Everyone at the round table looks at the source aka their resident genius.

With his face turning red Spencer looks at the caller ID, immediately recognizing the number. “Uh, it’s (Y/N)’s school. I have to take this?” It’s more a question directed to Aaron, who gives him a nod. Quickly the lanky man scrambles out of the conference room while accepting the call.

“Hello, Dr. Spencer Reid speaking.” “Hello Dr. Reid, this is Miss Pickett from your daughter’s elementary school. There is something I want to speak with you regarding (Y/N)’s behavior. Would it be ok, if you come in in half an hour, so we can talk?”

At that he is taken aback. His daughter’s behavior? Spencer always tried to raise a friendly and sweet girl, who is ready to help if needed. What could be possibly wrong with her? Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have a mother in her life?

A few months after (Y/N)’s birth her mother decided to move herself out of the picture, deeming herself unable to fulfill the role of a mother. Since then Spencer tries to be both a mother and a father to her, but this works not always. That’s why he is so happy she gets along with the women of the BAU, accepting them as her Aunts and female role models. (Y/N) knows she is able to go to them if there is an issue Spencer would not understand. He told her several times to not be afraid to go to them, that he won’t be mad at her.

“I’m sorry, the school wants me there to talk about (Y/N). I’m not sure what the issue is, but I think I will take her with me back, if it is ok?” The doctor looks at his boss for permission.

“It’s fine, Reid. You don’t have to come back in, your daughter is your first priority, we can manage to write the profile without you. Though I think Garcia would be happy to see her, the last case was pretty intense for her. It’s best if you decide depending on the problem.” He understands Spencer’s problem, being a single father himself.

“Will do, thank you Hotch!” With encouraging words echoing out of the room he grabs his satchel and makes his way to his daughter’s school. On his path worries about his child plague his thoughts, leaving him unable to think about something, anything, different.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I have an appointment with Miss Pickett, my daughter’s teacher?” The agent tells the secretary. The friendly looking man points him to the teacher’s classroom, which is where she wanted to meet the father.

Nervously Spencer waits for the “Come in” after he knocks on the door. “Ah, Dr. Reid, thank you so much for coming on short notice. I know you have a pretty tight schedule with your work and I’m really sorry for pulling you away, but there is something important I have to talk with you about.” The more Miss Pickett, a nice woman in her mid thirties with long brown hair, talks, the worse the father feels.

“I don’t want to rush anything, Miss Pickett, but what are you talking about? What is wrong with my daughter’s behavior?”

“Dr. Reid, is there any possibility (Y/N) gets abused?” She looks him dead in the eye. Her whole demeanor tells the profiler that she takes the whole situation seriously, otherwise he would have laughed out loud. This is the most absurd thing he heard all day long and Garcia ranted to him about a fantasy video game earlier.

“With all due respect, but do you really think I would hit my daughter? No, there is no way. You know that it’s only the two of us and there is nobody else, who could do anything to her without my knowledge. What are you thinking? On which proof do you make these accusations?” There is nothing for Spencer that could indicate his daughter is being hit at home. She is a naturally curious girl, friendly, smart and sweet.

“Whenever her classmates try to give her a high five, she ducks away. When I pat her shoulder as a way to show my appreciation for her comments or work she flinches. Dr. Reid, I’m by far not a profiler, but I know as good as you that an apprehension towards touching is one of the major signs for abuse. So I need you to be honest with me: Do you abuse her?”

There is no way this is real, is the only thought Spencer can form right now. Being directly accused is something different than the underlying implication.

“Miss Pickett, I’m honest with you: Let the profilers do the profiling.” While talking he leans towards her in a threatening manner. “My daughter was never hit, is never hit and will never be hit by me or anyone else as long as I breathe. (Y/N) is apprehensive to touch like many other people, introverts for example. Just because she and her behavior doesn’t fit into your extroverted world doesn’t mean I lay a hand on her. And for your information: She loves to cuddle with me and anyone she has a deep bond with. You are only her teacher, not a person she trusts or knows well enough. I appreciate your concern, but making an accusation like that has to be funded by more than only one indicator. Now excuse me, I will sign my daughter out and take her to people, who don't pressure her into doing something she isn’t comfortable with.”

Angrily Spencer stomps out of the colorful classroom, which is the whole opposite of his current mood.

“Me again, I want to sign out (Y/N) Reid, she has math in room 23 with Mrs Muller. Should I go get her or how do you do it here?” He asks the receptionist.

“I call her teacher, she sends your daughter here, Dr. Reid. Just a moment.” Not long after this an excited “DADDY” echoes through the long hallway. A sudden force throws itself against the father’s leg.

“I didn’t know you would pick me up early!” (Y/N) tells him joyfully, happy to see her dad again. As soon as he crouches down, she throws herself into his arms. “I missed you.” It’s still hard for a second grader to grasp the concept of time.

“I missed you, too, Sweetheart. What do you think, do you want to come with me to the berau? Auntie Penelope is kind of sad and there’s nobody better at cheering her up than you!” At that she nods vehemently.

The father picks his daughter up, carrying her out of the building. On his way out he spots Miss Pickett out of the corner of his eye, who watches them closely. While (Y/N) tells her father about her day, she plays with his hair, unknowingly defeating anything her teacher said earlier.

“Daddy, do you think Auntie Penny needs a normal hug or a bear hug?”

“I think she needs two bear hugs, just to be safe.”

“Yeah, that’s good. Just to be safe.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x child!reader #fanfiction

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ferrariwrites · 3 years

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created as part of the wtw march madness challenge - day 1, a character study

To say that Princess Margherita of Monaco is ‘normal’ would be a little absurd. Few people are born a princess, few go viral for table-dancing at the Louvre, and exactly one person, Her Serene Highness, Princess Margherita of Monaco, is a princess who has table-danced at the Louvre. As the only child of Prince Olivier and Cecilia, Duchess of Dalarna, Princess Margherita is first in line for the Monégasque throne.

— ALEXANDRA KIM FOR VOGUE

It is 11.34 and I am trying not to vomit. Around me, a team of marine biologists works in controlled chaos, deftly navigating the rolling waves. There’s a complicated computer setup, maps spread out over tables, and crates of lab equipment open and waiting.

In the center of the whirlwind is a beachy blonde dressed in a worn-in souvenir t-shirt (from Monaco’s famed Oceanographic Museum) and a pair of loose fitting jeans rolled up to mid-calf. She’s sitting cross-legged on the deck, carefully cataloging vials of water with coordinates, depths, and specimen names. A particularly harsh wave rocks the boat and she looks at me, smiling.

It’s a smile that has graced countless magazines, topped many a “10 Most Beautiful” listicle, and entranced the world. I’ve never met a princess, let alone been sick near one, but there’s never been a princess like Princess Margherita of Monaco, either. I feel a little silly for being nervous, for the hours spent mulling over what I could or could not say to Monaco’s crown princess. She is simply a charming 25-year-old, volunteering with a marine conservation charity.

To say that Princess Margherita of Monaco is ‘normal’ would be a little absurd. Few people are born a princess, few go viral for table-dancing at the Louvre, and exactly one person, Princess Margherita, is a princess who has table-danced at the Louvre. As the only child of Prince Olivier and Cecilia, Duchess of Dalarna, Princess Margherita is first in line for the Monégasque throne.

Later, once we’ve finished our research mission and the princess and I are sharing a bottle of champagne on the - blessedly still - docks, Princess Margherita agrees that her life is more than a little unusual. Still, she says, in a voice with the strange, complex accent of someone who grew up speaking five different languages (she speaks eight now, though she considers her Mandarin “elementary”), “I’m not the Duchess of Cambridge. No one cares much about me.”

It’s not exactly true. In her nearly two-and-a-half decades of public life, she’s been the subject of countless tabloid headlines dissecting everything from her hair color to her university degrees. Both are real, by the way. Virtually every detail of her life is available online. The media fanfare surrounding the princess and everything she does is a bit of a wormhole, from the countless Instagram accounts dedicated to tracking what she’s wearing to the viral TikToks of her simply walking. Lately, she’s been under the public microscope after a video - posted, of course, to Instagram, practically in real time - leaked of her criticizing the European response to refugees. While she trashed everyone from Johnson to Macron to leadership in her own country, what drew most fervor was the fact that the rant occurred in a nightclub, and the princess was double-fisting…?

“Champagne,” she tells me. “And isn’t it funny - you asked me that, but haven’t asked me anything about my views on the refugee crisis? That is what frustrates me. Who cares what I’m drinking?”

Gossip and fashion insider news doesn’t interest her, not even when it’s about herself. It’s current affairs and politics that she’s engaged in. Following a stint studying Political Science at Oxford University, Princess Margherita was accepted to Columbia University’s prestigious School of International and Public Affairs, where she pursued a Masters degree in International Affairs. One of her Columbia professors, international human rights lawyer Denma Kamir, who has overseen trials at The Hague, was impressed by her work ethic. “I was struck by how present she was. She showed up. She did the work. She engaged with her classmates. There were no airs.”

As a UNHCR ambassador, she works to highlight the plight of refugees and has travelled to refugee camps all over the world. Sustainability, too, tops her list of concerns. She grows fierce when discussing climate change, the plastic crisis, and the impact it has on vulnerable communities. “I have always felt driven by the question, how can I do the most good? And for a time I wondered if that meant walking away from the monarchy. I wanted to be a human rights lawyer. But I also understand the immense responsibility and privilege I have in my position. I have the opportunity to help other people be heard, and to bring attention to important causes.”

Princess Margherita’s position is a unique one. The Monégasque royal family is one of the few in the world that plays an active role in government. Any legislature must be approved and introduced by the Prince. Princess Margherita understands that she’s not just a figurehead - “I think we’ve moved past the need for royal figureheads. If we were just a publicity stunt, I would say the monarchy should be dissolved. Maybe it still should be.”

At this point, the princess’s press secretary steps in. I’m used to being asked to avoid certain questions, but this time it’s squarely our subject being told, in no uncertain terms, not to continue down that line of commentary. Once her handler returns to her iPhone, Princess Margherita shoots me a wink.

Frivolity aside, it’s clear she understands that she has the opportunity to bring about real change in her country and beyond, and is determined to move forward with compassion and an understanding of the issues both domestically and abroad. Hearing her speak about Monaco leaves no doubt the depths of her love and her devotion to her country, but she also cares for the good of the world and people suffering all over. She’s ready to put in the work.

Recently, that has included work in her own backyard. She has been working with the small but mighty, Monaco-based charity, SWELL. “Being near the ocean, being near water is something that’s very important to me. It’s like it’s a physical yearning and I need that. I need to be near bodies of water. I think that’s the Monégasque in me. We have a very rich, beautiful maritime history.”

Reproductive health issues, too, have been a subject of controversy, as Princess Margherita has lobbied her own father to overturn the country’s longstanding ban on abortions. Although there are notable exceptions to the law, Princess Margherita thinks it should be repealed completely. It has made, the Princess tells me, for some awkward family dinners. She doesn’t mind. “It’s always worth it to be gutsy. Always be gutsy! Be bold. Even if you’re wrong, you may just convince someone you’re right.”

I suspect that what many people see, when they look at Princess Margherita, is boldness itself. In person, she is an expressive talker, an enthusiastic gesticulator, and an easy laugher. She radiates a self-possession that is untainted by self-seriousness, a quality that she has put to good use in life, too, while blowing ocean water out of her snorkel or peeling off a wetsuit. When asked if she has any mantras or rules for life, she thinks for a minute and says, “Never skinny-dip alone.”

Princess Margherita grew up scuba diving and sailing, free-diving with great white sharks and assisting in coral rebuild programs, so perhaps it’s no surprise that much of her life and activism is related to the ocean. “During very hectic, intense periods, I go into the ocean and imagine how much is down there,” she says. “I try to put myself in the brain of a whale, or maybe a mermaid, and think they’re there right now swimming and think of the sounds and what they’re experiencing. That’s something I really love doing, just sort of pulling myself into the ocean in my mind - kind of like a mental escape.”

She sounds quite genuine when she talks about being a mermaid, and we talk more about the fact that fairytale writer and author of Little Mermaid Hans Christian Anderson was from Denmark, where Princess Margherita’s mother was born. “Why not believe in them? What’s the alternative - being boring? That’s the wonderful thing about life. There are so many layers to it, always something more and deeper and more beautiful. Why limit yourself to what you can see, or what you think you know?”

Perhaps we could all benefit from spending a little more time underwater, clearing our minds, putting things into perspective - and hanging out with the dolphins and the mermaids. Perhaps we can shift the focus of our attention. Perhaps we can all become a little less selfish, a little more globally aware and more understanding that the world is a single unified existence. Perhaps we can grow stronger.

We hug one last time and make a promise to see each other soon. Princess Margherita, an earnest look on her face, says that we’ll go to her favorite spot in Cannes, a hole-in-the-wall where they drizzle farm-fresh potatoes with truffle oil and lavender. And unlike most people, whose words blow away with the wind, I know that she means it from the bottom of her burning heart.

#wtwcommunity #wtwevent #wtw: march madness #wip: full send #fs: margo

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hooniee · 4 years

Text

— ꒰‧⁺paris run away *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3" your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet.

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled.

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan.

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president.

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue.

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head.

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore? i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-"

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?"

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that.

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head.

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup," you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice.

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything.

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time.

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you.

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him?

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile.

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

63 notes · View notes

spicykaraage · 11 months

Text

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Shuusuke Fuji

[PROFILE]

Birthday: February 29th (Pisces)

Blood Type: B

Relatives: Father, Mother (Yoshiko Fuji), Older Sister (Yumiko Fuji), Younger Brother (Yuuta Fuji)

Father’s Occupation: Company Employee (foreign company)

Elementary School: Seiharudai Third Elementary School

Middle School: Seishun Academy Junior High School

Grade & Class: Third Year | Class 3-6 | Seat 14

Club: Tennis Club (Regular)

Committee: Yearbook Production Committee

Strong Subjects: Classic Literature

Weak Subjects: Science

Frequently Visited Spot at School: Photography Room

World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives

Favorite Motto: “What is essential is invisible to the eyes.”

Daily Routines: Tending to his cacti, drinking morning coffee

Hobbies: Collecting cacti, photography

Favorite Color: Beige

Favorite Music: Celtic music

Favorite Movie: Musicals

Favorite Book: Interior design magazines ➜ Travelogues, travel photo collections [23.5]

Favorite Food: Apples, Cajun food, spicy ramen ➜ Anything spicy, 100% apple juice [23.5]

Favorite Anniversary: The birthday of a special someone

Preferred Type: A person with beautiful fingers ➜ A person who smells like flowers [23.5]

Ideal Date Spot: Planetarium ➜ An observatory with a beautiful view of the stars [23.5]

His Gift For a Special Person: A flower ring

Where He Wants to Travel: Salar de Uyuni on a starry night

What He Wants Most Right Now: Antique furniture and tableware ➜ Incentive [23.5]

Dislikes: Sour food

Skills Outside of Tennis: Skiing, ice-skating and other winter sports ➜ Winter sports, locating constellations [23.5]

Spends Allowance On: Things to help with his cacti

Routine During the World Cup: Drinking coffee from around the world, contacting his brother

[DATA]

Height: 167cm

Weight: 53kg

Shoe Size: 25cm

Dominant Arm: Right

Vision: 1.2 Left | 1.0 Right

Play Style: Counter Puncher

Signature Moves: Tsubame Gaeshi (Swallow Return), Higuma Otoshi (Bear Drop), Hakugei (White Whale), Kagero Zutsumi (Dragonfly Illusion), Houou Gaeshi (Phoenix Return), Kirin Otoshi (Qilin Drop), Hakuryuu (White Dragon), Gatekeeper of Hecatoncheires, Hoshi Hanabi (Starry Fireworks), Closed Eye, Aoi Fubuki (Blue Blizzard), Hikari Kaze (Radiant Gale)

Time He Wakes Up: 6:00am

Time He Goes to Sleep: 11:30pm

Number of Inui Juices Consumed: 16

Favorite Brands:

Racket: prince (TRIPLE THREAT RIP), prince (MICHAEL CHANG TITANIUM)

Shoes: Nike (NIKE READY AIR BISCAYNE MID III)

Fitness Test Results:

Sidesteps: 63

Shuttle Run: 115

Back Strength: 116kg

Grip Strength: 47kg

Backbend: 62 cm

Seated Forward Bend: 47.8cm

50m Run: 6.8 seconds

Standing Long Jump: 232cm

Handball Throw: 31.5m

Endurance Run (1500m): 4:44

Overall Rating: Speed: 3 / Power: 3 / Stamina: 3 / Mental: 4 / Technique: 5 / Total: 18

Kurobe Memo: “Evident from his beautiful play style, he is undoubtedly gifted in the sport. If he weren’t so concerned with playing aesthetically, I suspect he could go from a great player to an undeniably strong one.” [RB]

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bedroom [10.5]

Cacti // He moves them back and forth between his windowsill and shelves for sunlight

A rocking chair

Record player // He prefers it over a CD player since it’s quieter

Vinyl records // Bought from used record stores. Most of them are classic and jazz

Computer // The monitor is placed on the shelf next to his desk to conserve space. He’ll put his keyboard on his desk when he needs to use it

His favorite photos // Large printed photos he had taken on holidays and trips that are hanging on his wall

A very spacious closet // He stores his clothes, books, school uniforms and other things in it

What’s in His Bag [10.5]:

Cell phone // His family members are frequently on the go

Pass case

An English copy of The Little Prince // A book that’s dear to him, he’s read it in Japanese and is now reading the English version

Word cards // He’ll write down words he doesn’t understand in The Little Prince and look them up when he gets home

Writing supplies // Used to write down the situations, dates, times of shooting and other details when he captures photos

Compact camera

Compact mirror // He also uses it as a reflector for photos

What’s in His Locker at the U-17 Training Camp [10.5 II]:

Illustrated plant encyclopedia // Borrowed from Shiraishi

Muscle training equipment // 5kg dumbbells. He is secretly doing strength training to improve his power

Camera // Digital SLR

Interior design magazines // He’s thinking of redecorating his room once he returns from the camp

What’s in His Travel Bag:

SLR camera // He prefers taking pictures of his teammates and foreign players rather than the Australian scenery

[TRIVIA]

The Prince of Tennis 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 11/02/2001

He has his eyes closed most of the time to exude friendliness, but will open them when he’s being cautious or calculating. Konomi states they are usually closed whenever he’s smiling

His mother cooks a lot of Cajun and western dishes, which is why he doesn’t mind eating dubious food

He is very family-oriented and kind to his relatives. When he goes shopping with his sister they are often mistaken as lovers

Konomi wrote him to like spicy food since he wanted him to seem different and unusual

He is nicknamed “Fujiko” by Kawamura after the heroine of Lupin III since the latter is a fan of the series

On Sundays he goes to his grandfather’s photo studio on the outskirts of town to take photos

He tries keeping a smile on his face since he wants to find enjoyment in everything. Even when facing a strong opponent in a match, he thinks of how lucky he is that he’s able to go up against a great player

He and his brother Yuuta do not fight, but they do not talk to each other as often as they used to since Yuuta entered middle school

Although he notoriously likes spicy food, he likes sweets as well. He especially loves the raspberry pie his sister Yumiko makes

Despite being born on February 29th, a leap year, everyone still celebrates his birthday every year. Kikumaru once jokingly said to him “you’re only three years old!”

His personality is described as someone who’s very calculating while wearing a smile

Konomi describes him as “growing more on his own,” since at the time he was growing increasingly popular and took on a life of his own

The Prince of Tennis 20.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2003

He is known to be very attentive and can make friends of all types

He keeps his room neat and orderly

He could not handle drinking “Aozu” in Genius 159 due to one of its key ingredients being vinegar (he dislikes sour foods)

His secondary sport would be figure skating

The Prince of Tennis 40.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2007

He is very competitive and will usually stay calm and undaunted in any situation

He is described to be very versatile and multi-talented as well as fastidious, and has a tendency to delve deep into various things in order to feel satisfied

He is easily attracted to mysterious things

He is thought to have had strong spiritual powers by nature and has had strange occurrences happen to him

He is often misunderstood due to his mysterious nature, but he is actually very loving, compassionate and easily moved to tears

He had written a research paper on cacti the previous summer that received a lot of praise and attention, even surprising university researchers

He came up with the name “Gatekeeper of Hecatoncheires” for his technique from a book on Greece he had read when he was younger

Konomi had plans for him to transfer to Rikkai, and states he alluded it after his match with Ryoma, but ultimately decided for him to stay at Seigaku. He explains that he wanted him to transfer to grow even stronger and have a serious match against Ryoma

Konomi had originally wanted him to lose against Niou, but decided against it since he had already lost to Shiraishi

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 3 | Publication Date: 01/04/2010

He likes discussing plants with Shiraishi and Yukimura

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 6 | Publication Date: 06/03/2011

He, Tezuka and Kikumaru are shown having a chat with Yamato

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 8 | Publication Date: 08/04/2011

He had asked Jirou for a photo he had taken of Tezuka being annoyed

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 10 | Publication Date: 10/04/2011

His favorite activity is going on drives with his sister since he enjoys watching the scenery pass by

He is interested in trying ghost peppers

When asked what he plans on doing first after graduating, he replies with visiting Tezuka

He lacks confidence in his physical strength, but states he has no intention of forcing himself to build muscle

He likes relaxing with a cup of coffee when doing laundry

He wishes his younger brother would visit home more often

He is named after Fujiko Mine from Lupin III, and after the manga artist duo Fujiko Fujio since Konomi liked the sound of “Fuji”

Konomi came up with his “Triple Counters” since he wanted Fuji to appear as a genius, and that having more techniques meant the more skilled he was. “Higuma Otoshi” was inspired by an intense ballet drama Konomi had watched that had a major impact on him

Konomi tends to draw him as if his hair is flowing in the wind

Konomi has no desire to change Fuji’s appearance, but depicts him having an inner change and obsession over winning. He describes him as kind, but scary when he’s angry

One of His School Days:

6:00am - Wakes up, has breakfast (waffles and morning coffee)

6:30am - Calls Yuuta to wake him up after tending to his cacti

6:50am - Goes to school, morning practice

8:40am - 1st Period: Japanese (Kikumaru secretly passes him a note)

9:40am - Music (jazz lesson)

10:30am - Walks around the school during break time, takes photos of Tezuka without his glasses

11:00am - 3rd Period: English (short test)

12:00pm - 4th Period: Social Studies (Japanese history)

12:50pm - Lunch, develops Tezuka’s photos in the photo studio

1:20pm - 5th Period: PE (endurance run)

2:20pm - 6th Period: Long Homeroom (lesson on off-campus learning)

3:30pm - Stops by the library, borrows a mythology book from Ryoma, who’s on duty

4:00pm - Club activities, practices hitting the ball with his eyes closed

6:00pm - Stops by Kawamura’s house, asks to borrow a game

7:00pm - Returns home, has dinner

7:30pm - Has tea and homemade apple pie with his mother and sister

8:30pm - Bathes (soaks half of his body in the jacuzzi)

10:00pm - Reads while playing a record

11:30pm - Stargazes before going to bed

The Prince of Tennis II 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 09/04/2013

Although it is not on the training camp’s menu, he has a special full course meal of extremely spicy food prepared for him once a week

He gets along well with Yukimura and Shiraishi

The Prince of Tennis II 23.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 05/02/2018

He has been doing complex scenario training that revolves around different versions of Tezuka ever since the latter’s departure

Konomi states he may continue his and Ryoma’s match in the rain

Fuji’s eyes are open more in the new series since Konomi thinks he looks cooler with them open and that the new opponents are so strong he doesn’t have time to smile

He had gotten into tennis when his older sister’s boyfriend had taken him and Yuuta to a tennis club he was attending

The Prince of Tennis 20th Anniversary Book: Tenipuri Party | Publication Date: 08/02/2019

The photos he wants to take of Australia the most are the night sky

He likes taking photos to refresh himself at the training camp or on his days off

He has mostly taken photos of cacti since coming to Australia

He sends most of his photos to his family

He once went camping with sister and brother, during which his brother’s sandals had been washed away by the river. He and his sister went after them but were swept away by a waterfall, with their younger brother following suit. Ultimately, they all laughed it off at the bottom afterward

#tenipuri #tenirabi #profile #my post #seigaku

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m00nlitknight · 4 years

Text

more misc bowers gang headcanons.

henry.

takes pretty warm showers

they tend to be pretty short, and accomplish the bare minmum for his hygiene

takes his in the morning before school but after feeding the animals

brushes his fucken teeth in there

depending on the night before, he’ll either seek refuge from butch in the form of sleeping in the barn or belch’s house; granted he’s still completely mobile

if he were to be 100% honest he’s a bit annoyed that patrick is so independent. he knows that there’s strength in numbers, and really wants to be seen as ‘big bads’

in that same vein; he’s very possessive of vic and belch’s time. very.

not so much clingy, but moreso thinks that he is deserving of every ounce of time and attention whether it be his friends or a s/o

which is kind of what drives them away

had a hard time sharing anything in elementary school. those are his crayons dammit.

in elementary school he really enjoyed art class, and was actually pretty okay at sculpting, but butch drove him away from it by being well,,,butch,,,

deep down he wants to draw again, but outwardly he shows resentment toward the subject in entirety

actually gets worse as the years go on. the teachers at school don’t do much to stop it, actually gave up once he hit about eigth grade.

in class, he almost always manages to get an entire part of the room to himself ( the back ) or for his friends.

belch.

willingly allows henry to take all of his time.

is truly oblivious to his friends nature being derivitive of toxic

whenever henry stays over, belch typically sleeps on the couch or recliner. he knows the kid deserves at least one good nights rest.

not very good at art, but had a good time in elementary school.

within high school he joins some sports ( namely football )

he tried track, wrestling and basketball for a year but they weren’t really for him.

manages to iron himself into a pretty tolerable person after middle school. though it’s absolutely most noticeable when he’s around his friends ( and hardly even then since he’s still a teenager ) that he can be a teddy bear

outwardly, to the rest of the student body, he still has a pretty stony exterior. definitely a “do not fuck with me” vibe radiates from him.

a lot of discipline is from within. while he may not gain any respect from teachers, his coach sees the self-growth and applauds him from the sidelines.

no matter how much time passes, he will always be wary of patrick

like where the fuck does he go? what the fuck does he do?? why does he look like slenderman with a wig??

vic.

takes normal showers. if it’s too hot he suffocates from the steam, if it’s too cold he freezes.

usually plays music while he showers. doesn’t have spotify premium, unfortunately

they’re relatively short, but it’s okay.

has the only semblance of a skin care routine which is moisteriser sometimes in the winter / colder temps when his face gets dry

recognizes henry’s behaviors, and has since he started being friends with him, but does his best to just try and not evoke his friend’s wrath

too afraid to say anything to belch or any adult. just looks forward to the future in hope

at school he absolutely has bde. he has a certain kind of swagger to him that makes him unapproachable, aside from his affiliation.

while he may not accel in visual art, he does have a secret appreciation for theatre and other forms. he would never tell henry.

usually the only one to attend belch’s games for the full time. henry gets bored and leaves about halfway through, and patrick never shows.

sometimes a bit sad about his social life, but he bears with it with optimism.

patrick.

takes his showers either blisteringly, unbearably hot or ice cold. jumps in whenever he’s ready, regardless of temperature.

has, in fact, jumped into the quarry when it was ice fucking cold

will take f o r e v e r in the shower if someone mentions something about needing the bathroom or even comes knocking.

however, the action of bathing is an absolute occassion for this guy

usually at night / fuckall hours. him in the shower in the morning / mid-day is an oddity

he’s fucking gross is what im saying

to build off of the previous music hcs; considering he really likes to do things for the sheer shock value his musical tastes absolutely reflect that.

100% bumps to msi is what im saying

the most independent from the group. he just sorta fucks off and does whatever he wants a good 75% of the time

that other 25% of the time is inclusive of school ( homeroom / detention / lunch, but its important to note that he’ll still cut without the other three ) and car rides, or group fucking around.

do not fuck with him at any costs. this should be obvious! there is no growth as a person with him, if anything his tendencies get worse without any attempts at stopping from anyone else.

really, truly, does not give a fuck about what anyone thinks about him. just about anyone is too scared to talk to him, so it’s basically just a free for all with him.

#bowers gang headcanons #bowers gang #henry bowers #belch huggins #victor criss #vic criss #patrick hockstetter #henry bowers x reader #belch huggins x reader #vic criss x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #bowers gang imagine #it 2017 #writing.txt

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trashyswitch · 4 years

Text

Mr. And Mr. Sanders: A Love Story

When looking for evidence of 'opposites attract', you can look no further than the relationship between Logan and Patton Sanders. These two teachers are well known for being an open relationship through the decades that they've been working together.

Chapter 1: The Casual Days of a Married Gay Couple

One day, Patton decides to somewhat ruin Logan's serious reputation in favor of seeing him experience life and laugh more often.

For @kanene-yaaay, 305unreal.

I thought this would be a fun series to try and work on. I felt like writing some Logicality, and I started to wonder what it would be like to have married gay teachers in a school setting. Thus: this series was born! I hope you all enjoy!

Life as a high school teacher is most of the time, very interesting. Teachers often teach more than one subject, allowing them some variety in their day. A couple of the teachers teach a class, and also do a side job.

For example: One of the teachers is a child development teacher, and a resource teacher at the same time. He teaches two CD classes, and works on paperwork in the resource room the rest of the day. Sometimes, he overworks himself and has to get a supply teacher in for one of his class periods so he can catch up. But, he soon pulls himself into a good routine that rarely stresses him out too much. This teacher was Patton Sanders.

One teacher that teaches multiple subjects, is a man known as Logan Sanders. Logan is one of the school’s main English teachers. He was also given the chance to teach a couple history classes, since the main history teacher was on maternity leave. Though this probably would’ve stressed out most teachers, Logan was completely unphased by this new change. In fact, he was almost delighted to be teaching a history class! And to make things better, the kids were more attentive than he ever expected. He was almost thanking the main history teacher for being on maternity leave, so he could get this new opportunity.

Now, you’re probably wondering why both of the teachers had the last name ‘Sanders’. Was it because they were siblings? Were they twins? Were they related in any way? Well...Yes.

They are a married couple.

One day, the two teachers were hanging out in the teachers lounge while on break. Patton had gotten all caught up on his daily student updates, and had closed his laptop for the next hour or so. Patton stretched out his back and cracked his knuckles as he got out of his seat.

One of the teachers shivered and looked at Patton with worry. “Better be careful with how much you’re doing that. I heard it can cause arthritis.” the gym teacher mentioned to him.

“I have told you time and time again Smith:” The health teacher walked up to the gym teacher. “Cracking your joints does not cause arthritis.” She told him.

“Easy for you to say. I cracked my knuckles and wrists for years, and now look at me!” He showed off his wrists and hands. “I’m riddled with it!” He told her. Funnily enough, his hands and wrists were barely symptomatic.

The health teacher sighed and felt the pockets of inflammation in his wrists. “You’re overreacting. I know the diagnosis is heartbreaking for a fit man like you. But millions of people get arthritis! It’s a common hereditary disease. Your case is mild.” The health teacher told him.

The gym teacher sighed and sat himself down at the staff table.

Nearby, sitting on a couch with a laptop in his lap, was Logan. Patton hopped himself up to the couch and say down beside him. “Hi Logey.” He greeted.

“Good afternoon, Pat.” Logan greeted back.

“Whaaaat are ya workin’ on?” Patton asked.

Logan turned his laptop to face Patton. It was a powerpoint presentation on one of the WW1 battles.

“Oooooh! Getting into the big war?” Patton asked.

“Mm hmm. They already know what caused World War One, and we’ve already gone through a few of the battles.” Logan told him.

“Cool!” Patton reacted with a smile. Logan returned to working on the powerpoint, but didn’t really pay much attention to his husband. Patton’s smile dropped slowly as he started to notice this as well. Logan was just tappy-tappy-tapping away...not even noticing the man that had stolen his heart years ago.

Finally, Patton had enough. He gently grabbed his laptop, saved the powerpoint to the correct folder, and closed the laptop. “All done for now.” Patton told him.

“I...wasn’t.” Logan protested awkwardly.

“Well, I say you are.” Patton declared.

“Pat...you already finished your work. I haven’t finished mine, and I want to finish it while I still have the thought in my head.” Logan told him.

“Logabear: out of the both of us, you have the best memory.” Patton poked his head lightly, before moving his hair behind his ear. “I doubt you’re gonna forget something like that in an hour.” Patton mentioned.

“You’re being very dominating right now, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.” Logan admitted.

“Oooooh! Dominating, huh?” a teacher teased. A crowd of ‘ooooh’s filled the room as a wolf whistle was heard in the background.

“NO, that is NOT what I meant! I meant...like, loving! Comforting! Making me blush!” Logan told them.

“Awwww! You should see how blushy he can get!” Patton said to the teachers.

“Patton, is this necessary? I don’t- GAH!” Logan jumped and curled in as his side was squeezed.

“The most blushy he’ll get, is when he’s being tickled! Specifically on his ribs!” Patton told them as he skittered his fingers all over his sides and ribs.

“PAHAHAhahahat! Nohohoho! Nahahat ihihin frohohont ohohof- NO! NO NOT THERE! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Logan quickly bursted into laughter and threw his upper body back in a failed attempt to get away.

“Who’s a ticklish Logey? Who’s a ticklish Logabear? You are! YOU ARE!” Patton teased childishly.

“IHIHI AHAHAM NAHAHAT AHAHA CHIHIHILD, PAHAHAHAT! YOHOHOHOU KNOHOW THIHIHIS!” Logan protested through his laughter.

“But you’re always so mature! I wanna show everyone the playful, cute side of you I get to see everyday! It’s so cute and I wanna show it off to the world!” Patton told him happily.

“THEHEHE WOHOHORLD DOHOES NOHOHOT NEHEED TO KNOHOHOHOW!” Logan yelled.

“Awww! Is Logey gwowing embawwassed? Is Logey-pogey getting fwustered?” Patton whined in a little kid voice. “Don’t you smile! Doooon’t you smile! Doooon’t yoooou smile!” Patton teased further, causing Logan to grow a huge toothy grin with a blush as red as cherries.

“That’s so cute! Logan deserves all the love!” One of the teachers cooed.

“Out with the composed, and in with the cute.” another teacher added.

“I knew nerds were prone to be adorable, but I always assumed nerds lose their cuteness as they grow up! Looks like I was wrong.” Another teacher mentioned.

While Logan was getting tickled and teased by both Patton AND the teacher audience, someone else was watching the whole thing…

[Two hours later:]

Logan was nearing the end of an English work period, and most of the students had already handed in their assignments. Logan gave them a short writing exercise as a ‘ticket to leave’ quite a few minutes earlier, so it wasn’t a rushed hassle to get it done before the bell. It looked like the students managed to finish them really quickly because a pile of the small writing pages were on Logan’s desk, and the kids started coming together into their friend groups for the last few minutes of class.

One such group appeared to be laughing and having lots of genuine fun. So, Logan walked up to see what fun they were doing.

“What are you guys up to?” Logan asked.

“Uh oh...We’ve been caught by one of the serious teachers. Quick! Stop having fun!” one of the kids joked.

Logan rolled his eyes, but chuckled at the stupid statement.

“Come on guys, give him a break. See? He’s got a sense of humor too.” another student told them.

“Hey Cole: truth or dare?” One of the teens asked.

“Dare! Bring it on!” Cole replied with pride in his voice.

“I dare you to make us all your truth or dare partners.” She declared to him.

Cole widened his eyes and laughed as he got up. “Alright!” He replied.

Logan widened his eyes. “That is a very clever dare!” Logan reacted. “I am impressed.”

Cole smiled as he clapped his hands. “Okay. By a show of hands: Truth?” He called.

Only a couple people put their hands up.

“Or dare!” He called again.

The rest of the group threw their hands up immediately. Cole smirked as he thought about the size of the dare he’d need to do. “I dare all of you…” Cole paused mid-sentence to think of something fast. As he thought, Cole looked up at Logan and quickly felt his brain juices flow. “I dare all of you to tickle attack Logan!” Cole decided.

Hold up, WHAT?!

The kids turned to face him with a mix of confusion, and curiosity in their faces. “Is he even ticklish?” One student asked.

“I doubt a serious man like him would be ticklish.” Another student mentioned.

“Pat Sanders would say otherwise.” Cole mentioned.

Logan widened his eyes and slowly pointed his index finger at him in disbelief. “I...You- YOU SAW THAT?!” Logan reacted.

Cole chuckled as the kids suddenly started to see a different side of Logan. One of the kids walked up to him with curious eyes and her fingers wiggling. Logan immediately blushed and pushed the fingers away with an awkward chuckle. “Ohohokay...R-Remember what you learned in elementary school: hands off everyone, even the teachers.” Logan attempted.

The girl laughed. “You’re talking to a grade 12 class that’s half filled with adults!” She reacted, showing off the friend group. “You’re fine!”

The student walked right up to Logan and brought your hand up. “One squeeze?” She asked.

Logan just stared at the hand in pure awkwardness. Finally, after no answer yet no protest, the female student gently squeezed his side. Logan just about jumped 5 feet into the air and squeaked higher than a mouse! Logan covered his mouth and immediately felt his face heat up with a light red blush.

“T-Theresa…” Logan stepped another step back. “...No.” Logan warned.

“No...what?” Teresa asked.

Logan almost shrunk a few sizes down due to his embarrassment alone. “N-No...Nooo…” Logan struggled to get his words out.

“Nooooo…” She poked his side. “Tickling?” She poked with her left hand.

“Does,”

She poked his ribs. He squealed and backed up another step.

“This,”

She poked his belly. He hugged his stomach and cowered further from her.

“Tickle?” She asked, poking his arm.

Logan nodded and put his pointer finger up at her. “Teresa…” Logan kept it up. “...I...” Logan’s hand slowly fell. He had nothing to say. Even if he did, he would never be able to say it.

Teresa smirked as the rest of the kids stood up and started to surround the vulnerable teacher. Finally, Logan turned right around and ran for his life. He sprinted right out of his own classroom, and ran in long strides down the long hallway.

A pile of students were following right behind him, sprinting after him so they could tickle him to bits. Logan felt an immense amount of adrenaline...More than he’d ever felt in a long time. He could feel the floor almost vibrating with students’ steps as he struggled to run from the army of evil teenagers.

It was in this moment that Logan wondered: Why did I ever take this job?

Logan ran up a bunch of stairs and did all he could to not hit any other walking students in the hallway. He must’ve apologized roughly a thousand times as he sprinted and dodged people! Even as the hall monitor tried to stop the students, all the students spared them from being trampled, and kept on sprinting after Mr. Sanders.

Logan finally sprinted into the staff room as a lawfully neutral way to get away from them. Logan slammed the door with his back, and sprinted to the coat closet. Logan was so busy running away from the army of his evil students, that he didn’t even notice that Patton was in there! The child development teacher was trying to get some work done in peace. But that was slightly ruined (in a good way) by his hyper husband.

Wait a second...Hyper?!

Patton looked up and walked to the closet. “Logey? Sweety? Is that you?” Patton asked, opening the door.

Logan was panting profusely with a wobbly smile and a pink blush on his face. Patton giggled at the adorable look on his partner’s face. “Awww! What’s with the adorable face?” Patton asked.

“The...st-students...are...Pleasehelp…” Logan managed to get out.

Patton tilted his head and walked up to the staff room door. He opened it and widened his eyes:

There were a total of 20 kids standing there! “...Oh.” Patton reacted.

“Hi Mr. Sanders!” Cole greeted. “I’m Cole, and I dared all of them to tickle Logan.” Cole told him.

Patton widened his eyes and slowly grew a smile. “...Oh??” He reacted, not sure whether to be concerned or excited.

Logan gulped and hoped Patton would save him.

“So...are we allowed to come in?” Cole asked.

Patton looked at the end of the door before looking at Cole with a smirk. “How do you know Logan is even in here?” Patton asked.

“We watched him run in.” Teresa replied.

Patton giggled.

“Soooooo…” Cole awkwardly waited for Patton to reply.

Patton closed the door slightly and pointed to Logan’s ticklish spots. After showing them a couple times, Patton waved for them to lean in closer. “I will let you off the hook. But if the camera catches any of you, that’s out of my control. Okay?” Patton explained quietly. Cole, Teresa and everyone else nodded. “Okay. Wait on my presentation to come in.” Patton ordered.

Patton walked into the staff room with an evil smirk on his face. “Oooooh Looogaaaan!” Patton sing-songed. Logan’s eyes widened in horror. “Won’t you come out, Logey-bear?” Patton asked childishly.

“...P-Pat...What are you p-planning?” Logan asked.

Patton smirked and pushed the door right open. “A whole whack of tickle monsters are here to seee yooouu!” Patton declared.

All the kids sprinted up to the closet and pulled him right out. Logan yelped and struggled amidst their pinning, and quickly bursted into giggles as a few of his ticklish spots were targeted. There were so many hands tickling him! So many fingers! A few of them were pinning him up and exposing a few of his spots, while others were tickling him absolutely everywhere they could reach! Though, a few of the students mentally decided that thigh tickles and hip tickles were gonna be crossed off the list for obvious reasons.

“GUHUHUHUYS! COHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHON!” Logan yelled.

“Mr. Serious Sanders is turning into his husband! Soon, we won’t be able to tell the difference!” a student reacted.

“I love how Patton openly calls him Logey-bear! It’s so cute! Definitely suits him!” A female student mentioned with a giggle.

“Brohoho! This guy’s laughter is very contagious!” Cole reacted.

“This is the cute nerd stereotype come to life! And I love it!” A female student reacted.

“Who needs hot people like the gym teacher, when you can have cute nerds like Mr. Logan Sanders!” Yet another student reacted.

Patton giggled and recorded the entire thing. This was such a hilarious thing to watch! But Patton made sure to keep it onto his phone and only his phone. He knew how important his reputation was to his husband. So even though Logan’s reputation was somewhat shattered by his students, he wasn’t gonna further destroy his reputation with the video on the internet. Patton smiled and stopped the recording before walking up to the students. “Alright, alright. Let’s give the poor man a break.” Patton moved the kids aside and knelt down beside his lover. “You okay?”

Logan nodded in response, still a giggling mess.

Patton helped him up, sat him down onto the couch and got him some water. While Logan slowly got calm, Patton allowed the kids to ask questions about their loving relationship. Soon, the teens fell in love with the cute little love story that came about with the two men. They started to hope that someday, they would all have their own love story.

#teacher logan #teacher patton #romantic fluff #married logicality #adorable logan #adorable patton

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orlissa · 4 years

Text

Since @agenthaywood and I talked about this the other day, and since apparently I’m a bit of an insomniac, here it comes: a little intro to the Hungarian educational system. Because it’s a mess.

First of all, we need to talk about two things: classes and the matura.

Unlike (as far as I understand) the US, where you have kinship with the people you were in the same year with, in Hungary, you have kinship with the people you belonged to the same class with. Classes are teams, closed entities. It’s 20-odd (elementary school) to thirty-odd (high school) people, who have most of their classes together, except for specializations. So everyone in the class has basically the same schedule for the whole duration of elementary/high school. They take school trips together. They often compete as a team against other classes in their year.

And then the matura--the matura is the national, centralized exam that marks the end of high school. Each student has to take it in at least five subjects: Hungarian Literature & Grammar, Math, History, one foreign language, and one freely chosen subject (back when I did this, it could be anything. Now I think it must be some science subject). You can take each of those on two levels: “middle” or “advanced.” The middle levels happen in your own school, overssen by your own teachers. The advanced levels happen in unfamiliar schools (one appointed for each subject in each district), and you’re never examined by your own teachers. Advanced levels are of course harder, but the percentages for each grade are also lower. As far as I know, you have to take at least one advanced level matura. They happen in two rounds: the written round starting in early May (Lit & Grammar on Monday, Math on Tuesday, History on Wednesday, English/German on Thursday of the first week, with all the other subjects following in the next two weeks or so), and then the oral round in mid-late June (the middle level orals happen throughout a 2-3 days period, a person doing all of their oral exams in one go). The outcome of your maturas, given in points, determine your college admissions (but, like, for example if you wanna go to med school, your elective subject needs to be Chemistry or Biology. If you wanna get into an English as a foreign language program, you have to take an advanced level English matura. Every year, there’s a huge book listing all the programs in all the universities in the country, where you can check what are the exact requirements for each program).

Personally, I took advanced level Lit & Grammar and English, middle level Math and History, and middle level Art/Art History. All the programs I applied for were in the field of humanities, all asking for Lit/English/History/whatever, so I really only did Art for “fun.” I got 98% on English, 95 or 96% on Art, 90-something% on History, 90% on Math, and 84% on Lit (for middle levels, A starts at 80%; for advanced levels, it starts at 60%), which meant that after some complicated math, my overall score was, I think, 468 out of 500. That year you had to have 422 points to get into my first choice

Okay, so, yeah XD I told you it was complicated XD

Anyway, the actual educational ladder: kids go to elementary school at 6/7 (back when I was in school, if you were born during the summer, so you didn’t turn six by the time the school year ended, your parents could decided to keep you in kindergarden for one more year. Now I think if the kid turns 6 by the time the school year starts in september, he or she is required to start school), and it consists of grades 1-8, which is divided into two parts: junior (grades 1-4), where all the classes are held in the same classroom, taught by the same teacher, and senior (grades 5-8) part, where the students migrate between classrooms, and each subject is taught by a different teacher. BUT the class itself remains an entitiy--you attend grade 4 and grade 5 classes with the same people.

Then comes high school. High school application works pretty much like college application: 8 graders take a centralized, national-wide test on Math and Literature in January, and their scores there, plus their previous grades determine which high school they have applied to will take them. But, like... even this system is not as clear cut as it might seem at the first glance :D for example, I didn’t take the centralized test. My first choice of high school (where I eventually went) was out of town/district, and it was a special program that required its own entrance exams. My other choices were withing my district, but the december before I started high school I came second out of 200+ at an IT studies competition, which meant that I had “admission exam amnesty” or whatever. Basically all the high schools within the district were obliged to accept me on merit if I applied to them.

Okay, so elementary school finished, you go to high school--but not necesarrily the one that is the closest to your home. Instead, as stated above, you apply to different high schools, based on which one is the best/strongest/closest to your personal level. So, basically, C students will mostly end up in one class with other C students, B students with other B students, A students with other A students... You get the picture.

High school generally lasts 4 years, however, there are other programs as well. There are 8 and 6 year long programs--they have their own admission exams, and they start after grade 4 or 6. These are usually good schools, often require tuition fees and focus on foreign languages. Meanwhile, 5 years long programs start after grade 8, and have a “0th” grade which focuses on a foreign language (I went to a program like that--I had 9 English classes a week in the first year).

For example, my high school had 4 class in each year: Class A and B were 6 years long programs, A focusing on languages and B on Math, class C was a 4 years long program (general curriculum), and Class D was 5 years long (special government-funded program for gifted kids from difficult backgrounds.)

Also, there are different kinds of high schools. What I wrote above applies to what we call “gimnázium”--gimnázium teaches no vocation, and instead focuses on readying people for university. You are basically expected to go to university if you go to a gimnázium. Then, as per as current terminology, there are szakgimnáziums: they also ready you for university, and they end with the matura exams, but they also focus on a specific (usually white collar, such as accounting, healthcare, electric engineering, etc.) vocation. People who go to a szakgimnázium have to take a matura in their chosen vocation. And then there are szakközépiskolas: in a szakközépiskola, students study a specific (usually blue collar) vocation, and take an exam on that vocation after three years of study. Szakközépiskola do not end with the matura exams--if you wanna take the maturas, you have to stay for two extra years.

So, yeah... I told you it’s complicated :D

#hungary #personal #education

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randomoranges · 4 years

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more recycled blurbs

Teacher AU

Evaluation II

“I hate evaluations.” Étienne bemoaned as he paced his living room, box of cookies in hand.

From the couch, Edward looked up from the paper he was trying to grade and pushed back his glasses. “I know, but we’ve been through this already. You’ll be fine. Didn’t you pick your own class?”

Étienne paused mid-pacing and gave his boyfriend a Look, before he stuffed another cookie in his mouth. It didn’t matter if he picked his own class. Hell, it didn’t matter if there was only one student in that class and it was the Greatest Student Ever Known. The point was that he hated being evaluated and he had an evaluation coming up. “Yes, I did, but still. I mean, isn’t it ironic how I actually picked my sixth grade class over any of my younger groups? I love the little ones – but they’re so unpredictable! Also, I feel like the older ones might get that this is important, but something could still go wrong! They could still decide to make my life a living hell! The markers might explode.”

Edward blinked and looked at him. He wanted to think that his boyfriend was being over-dramatic (why he wasn’t a theatre major was beyond him, at times), but Étienne looked dead serious.

Edward gave up trying to grade and sat up. For as long as he had known Étienne, he knew his boyfriend detested being evaluated and worked himself up into such a nervous and anxious state. From the moment he was told he’d be evaluated, up until he received the results, it was sleepless nights, reduced appetite and once even, an actual panic attack. (There hadn’t been a panic attack in years; Edward considered that a win. At least, now, Étienne was binge-eating cookies; it meant he was eating something. Edward had learned to take the wins where he could.)

Edward got up from the couch and walked over to Étienne. He gently took the cookie box out of his hands and then wrapped him in a tight hug. He felt Étienne sag against him and placed a kiss to his shoulder. “The markers won’t explode, sweetheart; it’ll be fine. Think of it this way, it might be your last evaluation ever.” If the stars aligned and all, by the end of the school year, the post would officially be Étienne’s. He would become a permanent teacher at the school, he wouldn’t stress throughout the summer on whether or not he’d have to change jobs and by virtue, Edward wouldn’t also equally worry.

Étienne looked at him with the most dejected and kicked puppy dog expression ever and Edward sighed. He gave his midriff a slight squeeze and nuzzled the warm skin by his neck. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” He reiterated as he had every night for the past two weeks or so. “You’ve got this. The kids will work on their project, your supervisor will think you’ve got the greatest classroom managed ever and administration won’t kick you out.” He added. Edward believed in him. He’d seen Étienne teach over the years. Étienne was well loved and liked by the students. They wouldn’t turn on him. The markers wouldn’t explode.

Étienne relaxed a little, leaning back against him, before he took another cookie from Edward and munched on it thoughtfully. He knew Edward was right. He knew he was freaking out over this more than he should, but it was always so unnerving when someone else sat in his class to observe him teach. He felt scrutinized and judged. He felt like a fool. Incompetent. The worst was when he saw the evaluator take notes.

He could sometimes almost hear the supervisor reprimand him for a mistake or judge him for the way he explained a difficult concept to a student.

He hated it.

However, just as Edward had said, he hadn’t picked this class for nothing. The kids were older, appreciated him – or at least seemed to – and when he had told them that he would be evaluated when he would be teaching them, the students had rallied and told him they would have his back. He just – needed to remember that.

Étienne liked to pretend he didn’t have a favourite group. In general, he always preferred the younger groups, but this year, this one group of sixth graders was really nice. It was as if all his best kids from the year before had been magically put together in the same class. He could actually talk to them, exchange on current topics, and push them with their projects. It seemed as though the kids genuinely wanted to come to his class and work. It was honestly refreshing.

“I guess you’re right.” He said looking up at Edward’s face. His boyfriend nodded and stole a cookie from his “emergency-crisis” box. Étienne swatted his hand away, but Edward popped the cookie in his mouth, grinning.

“Of course I’m right. And you’ve had enough cookies for one day. Come on, let’s go to bed. I’ll give you a massage to calm down.”

Étienne pouted, but at the mention of the massage, he perked up and gladly followed him to their bedroom.

Phone Calls

Edward avoided calling parents if he could. He tried to solve every disciplinary problem with the student at fault and administration, if needed. However, there were always exceptions to every rule and there was always one student, or three, that left him no choice.

It wasn’t that Edward disliked the parents. The majority of them were fine human beings who genuinely cared for the well-being of their children. What he didn’t like about calling home was that he always felt so very awkward doing it, never mind the fact that he disliked making phone calls in general.

He never knew how to lead the conversation in the direction that he wanted it to go in and after he had explained the problematic behaviour, he never knew what else to say.

What was he even supposed to say?!

“Oh yes, hello, this is Edward Murphy, your son’s teacher. I hope this isn’t a bad time. I just called to let you know about a small situation that happened in class today, with your son. No, he’s not failing yet, but if he keeps making book reports about novels that don’t exist and if he keeps thinking that I’m a complete moron, it will be my pleasure to fail him.” He knew he would never say such things, but it was tempting. And even if he kept it clean and stuck to the facts, he would have to wait for the parents’ reaction, which was usually a very simple and very bland “ok”.

E-mails were easier, but the problem with those was the chain of back and forth. He’d send an e-mail, explain what had happened in detail, the parents would want more information, he’d reiterate his point and this would go on for four to seven e-mails. At least, with the phone call, even if he didn’t like it, he could get it done and over with.

But still.

If he could, he would tell the parent that their child was a nincompoop who was wasting his, and everyone else’s time in class, but apparently, that was rude, even if it was the truth. Therefore, he had to hope that the parent would understand and tell him that they would talk to their child, while thanking him for the stellar work he was doing.

A man could dream.

Edward sighed and opened the first student file. He dialed the phone number and prayed for the answering machine.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even have that.

There were no small mercies.

“Yes, hello, this is Edward Murphy; I’m your son’s teacher, is this a bad time?...”

Names

When Étienne taught that one year in a high school, in order to increase the number of art appreciation assignments that were handed in on time, he had decided that he would allow his students’ to submit work through e-mail. When that still didn’t yield the desired results, and some students’ asked if they could submit via Facebook, he decided they could.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, and all that jazz.

Now, Étienne didn’t post indecent things to his Facebook account, but he did like to have a good time and he didn’t necessarily feel comfortable with the idea of his students’ looking at his pictures, or reading his comments. Or knowing what it was he did when he wasn’t in school. Or that he sometimes dated men. Social media was not the place to find that out. They could have a conversation about that later, in a more appropriate setting. He felt it would ruin his teacher-student relationship the other way. It was why, during his last year of university, he had made a purge of his accounts, had changed his name so that students couldn’t search him, and land on his account. Therefore, for his teacher account, he came up with a clever alternative that was a name play on his real name.

Étienne MaisonNouvelles.

He thought it was very clever and he was so pleased with himself when he told his students’ about it. He reminded them that it wasn’t his real name and they nodded in understanding. Within the first day, a few students’ had even added him as a “friend.”

His plan was working perfectly.

He made sure never to scroll on the newsfeed to see what was going on with his students’ and he would only reply to comments when students’ submitted him work. That was it.

For a while, it seemed to be working out rather well. There were more students’ submitting work and he silently congratulated himself for being so clever.

And then it happened.

It took six assignments before it happened, but when it did, he screamed.

There, on the cover page, written neatly it said: “presented to Mr. MaisonNouvelles.”

And when he explained, again, to his students’ that it wasn’t his real name, some laughed, while others looked genuinely surprised.

If he could learn all their two hundred names, they could learn one!

Lonely

It wasn’t that Étienne disliked teaching. He enjoyed it – most days, but there were definitively moments when he wondered why he had picked the profession. Other, older teachers told him that the first year was the hardest and he was starting to believe it.

However, what got to him the most, other than the lack of interest his students’ had for art and how the subject was treated by even the ministry of education, was how utterly alone he felt.

He was teaching in a rather large elementary school, with over 1000 students and over fifty, if not more, teachers. There were tons of people and yet he felt as though there was no one else he could connect with.

The majority of the other teachers were older than he was and had been working together for years, so that left little room for him to join in on their conversations. He had tried, but they had little in common. Or so it seemed. On top of that, he was the only art specialist, he seemed to exist in his own bubble and it meant he had even less of a chance to interact with others.

He didn’t really mind. He liked the quiet and the privacy, and he enjoyed having actual time to plan his lessons, but he hadn’t realised how much he missed hanging out with his friends, until he had gone out for drinks with some of his buddies last week. It had been ages since he’d last had a conversation that went beyond regular platitudes. He had missed it.

It was already three months into the school year and he was on polite terms with a few teachers, but that was about it. He felt isolated and even though the rest of the staff were polite and nice, he hadn’t bonded with anyone.

And sure, there was Edward, but they rarely ran into each other. They always ended up talking when they met, but he wasn’t sure if he could consider him as an actual friend, or if the man was just keeping him company.

He supposed he would grin and bear it for now and maybe next year things would be better. Or so he hoped.

Lunch

Edward always took the time, at night, to prepare himself a lunch, for the following day. He hated spending money on food at restaurants, when his fridge and pantry were stock full. He tried his best to vary his meals and gave himself plenty of snacks that would give him energy throughout the day.

And he always packed a little more, since Étienne liked to pick from him. (The man was turning into a regular menace (of the good type), but Edward Worried About Him At Times. Étienne either got food from the cafeteria (if he managed to get away from his class) or ate a muffin (if he remembered to bring something from home.) How he did it was beyond Edward.)

But of course, there were always days when the universe seemed to conspire against him and he wondered why he hadn’t just stayed home.

Naturally, he realised he had forgotten his carefully packed lunch once he was at school. Not only that, but he had forgotten his water bottle as well, but somehow, he hadn’t forgotten to bring his left over Halloween candy for the communal bowl in the staff room. Clearly, his priorities were set.

Therefore, when lunchtime rolled in, Edward lined up with his students and took a tray. He opted for the pizza, even if it looked a little sad and should have been ashamed to call itself pizza, but at least he wouldn’t actually starve by the end of the day.

When Étienne saw him a while later, tray in hand, he had a good laugh at him and offered to come sit in the art room with him. Edward agreed and to his greatest surprise, of all days, his friend had brought an actual lunch from home.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #teacher au

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jamielea81 · 5 years

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Homecoming

A/N: This is for @xxloki81xx 200+ celebration. Congrats again love! This one shot was written with the above moodboard in mind.

Description: You have dreamed of a life away from your hometown. After moving across the country for college, you realize that home is where you belong.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader Various others x Reader (platonic)

Warning: Feels. A boyfriend getting handys, but nothing extreme.

Word count: 3,600+

Time is a funny thing. The years slipped by fast, but at the same time, they dragged on, as did you. It was time to admit defeat. Time to pick yourself up and accept the help that had been offered over and over again. You were never one to willing give up. Nor were you the one to easily accept that people loved you. That no matter what, you can’t push away family. Especially the ones that choose to be your family.

Milford Springs is where you were born and raised until you left the mid-sized town after high school. You studied hard, applied for every scholarship known in existence, and said goodbye to your mom, brother, and the friends you had known all your life. Including Steve.

Steve wasn’t always your friend and he wasn’t always the love of your life. All through elementary school and junior high, he was kind of your enemy, except, he didn’t know it. He was always on the small size, but his personality was big. Always getting into fights and preaching right from wrong. You hated that. Hated it because you weren’t perfect and he made you feel even worse. He was friends with your brother despite your brother being a year older than the two of you. Your brother was perfect, still is. The son that could do no wrong, your mother’s favorite even if she did deny it. The two of them always seemed to be on a crusade and didn’t want anything to do with the likes of you when they were together. You were the one getting into trouble in class for talking and gossiping. Natasha was the bad influence, although she always seemed to side step any punishments that were being handed out.

It was sophomore year in high school when you learned that you no longer despised Steve. Natasha and Bruce were on a double date with you and Brock. It was technically only your second date with Brock despite knowing him for the last few years and hanging out with him in group situations. After watching your football team lose horribly in their season opener, the four of you decided to grab a late night bite at Rosco’s Diner. It was always a popular spot, being located only a few blocks from your high school. Plus, they had great milkshakes.

Natasha and Bruce had just finished their burgers and were getting ready to leave.

“My dad changed my curfew, I’ve got to split,” Natasha said.

“Naaaattt,” you whined. “Don’t leave me.”

“Bruce has been keeping me out too late,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Dad’s been cracking down on me getting home before midnight on weekends.” She shrugs her shoulders and pushes Bruce out of the booth.

“Me? Keeping you out? I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Bruce said. He throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

They are so cute.

“Fine, fine. Go home. Call me tomorrow,” you grumbled.

Brock stuck out his hand and Bruce shook it. You and Brock chuckled as he was clearly going for a high five.

“Night guys,” Brock said.

Your milkshake arrived a few minutes later and you eagerly dug in, using the spoon because it was far too thick at that moment to drink with the straw.

“Slow down, babe. You don’t want to get a stomach,” he says, nudging your side with his elbow.

“Gee, thanks, Brock,” you sassed, taking another large spoonful of ice cream goodness. Brain freeze be damned!

You already weren’t the most confident person, but to hear the guy you’re interested in say that, it hurt.

When the inevitable brain freeze did happen, you pushed the glass away, to allow it to melt a bit. Brock put his arm over your shoulder and pulled you until you were snug against his side, kissing the top of your head. After his comment about your stomach, you weren’t into the affection he was offering. You attempted to pull away, but his firm grasp wasn’t leaving any room. He curved further into you where there was zero space. With his free hand, he cradled your chin and pulled it to him into a kiss. As soon as his lips touched yours, you moved your face away.

“Knock it off Brock, I’m not in the mood.”

It wasn’t your first kiss with him, no, he eagerly kissed you outside your house on your first date. That one had been exciting. Brock was a senior and pretty popular in school. The fact that he wanted to kiss you, just an average sophomore, set your world a blaze.

Ignoring your request, he leaned in further nuzzling your ear, keeping you close with his arm around your shoulder. You pulled your head to the side to get out of his reach, but that only gave him more access. With his free hand, he trailed his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt, skimming your stomach.

You slapped his hand away. “Stop. Brock, I said stop!”

With a little momentum, you were able to shove off of him and push him to the end of the bench.

Enter one, Steve Rogers.

“I think the lady said stop,” Steve said.

“Get out of here Rogers. Mind your business,” Brock snarled.

Brock had a few inches on Steve in both height and size, so it was a good thing Brock was still seated. Before Brock could utter another word, Steve socked him right in the nose. Blood trailed down his face. Brock grabbed napkins from the table and covered his face.

“You’re dead Rogers!” he roared.

Thinking fast, you grabbed your milkshake and dumped it on Brock’s head and then proceeded to push him out of the booth. Now the entire restaurant was watching with fellow classmates laughing.

“Were done!” he said, pointing a stiff finger at you. “And you’re still dead, Rogers.”

Brock stomps his way out of the restaurant and all you can do is laugh. Steve takes one look at you and changes his angry face to one with a smile. After your giggles subside, he holds his hand out for you to grab. You get to your feet and contemplate calling your brother for a ride. You don’t live far, but the thought of walking home alone is a little unsettling.

“How about I buy you another milkshake and then walk you home, doll?”

Heat instantly rises to your face and by the dopey look on his face, you know he can see it too. Rather than risk saying something stupid, you bite your lip and nod your head.

Over the next few weeks, you fell head over heels for Steve and he with you. Steve was your everything that year, your first make out, your first over the clothes touching, under the clothes touching, and the first person you had sex with.

The two of you waited until school was out for summer before taking that next step. You were going away at the end of June through the end of August to a math and science camp for elementary aged kids. Neither subject was your favorite, but you did well enough in both classes that you applied for the minimum wage job figuring it would look good on your college applications. As much as you loved Steve, you still wanted to get out of Milford Springs.

The time away was hard and you often spent hours at night crying because it was your decision to leave. Steve wrote you letters twice a week and you responded to every one of them. He told you about life at home. How your brother liked having his friend again and how Bucky often felt like the third wheel. He told you about Natasha and Bruce still being the old couple of the group and the new kids, Wanda and Pietro who had just moved to town. You missed home quiet a bit, but really you just missed him.

Coming home from camp was both a blessing and a little heartbreaking. You and your mom had never really gotten along. You often blamed yourself as the reason why your dad left. You had heard from other relatives by accident that your parents wanted to wait a few years to have another child after your brother was born. And while it wasn’t your fault you existed, you still felt like it was. Your brother had talked about what a great summer he had and how light hearted your mother had been. Except now that you were home, you couldn’t help but notice her sullen mood. Money had always been hard growing up, and you supposed having only one other mouth to feed over the summer had helped that burden. Now here you were in need of new clothes and spending money for school. You did what you could to help that burden by often eating at friend’s houses, working as much as you could by babysitting in junior high, getting a job at the diner shortly after turning sixteen, and the summer camp this summer.

Shortly after junior year had started, you quickly became friends with both Wanda and Pietro. Wanda easily fit in with you and Natasha. The three of you going to each other’s houses when the boys were together. Much to Steve’s dismay, Pietro often joined the three of you. You had assured Steve that there were no feelings there and that it was probably a twin thing that made Pietro want to hangout with the three of you.

The diner was only able to give you hours twice a week, three times if you were lucky. The lack of hours allowed you to spend time with Steve as well as your group of friends that was ever expanding. It seemed to always be you, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, Pietro, and Maria hanging out for hours in someone’s backyard after school. Sometimes your brother would join your group, but being a senior this year, he often spent time with his own friends.

Your rather large group of friends had been through a lot together. Wanda and Pietro’s parents divorced in the middle of junior year and there was a time they were worried about being split up with each living with one parent. That didn’t happen, but that fear lasted almost a year while the divorce was in process, especially when their mom moved thirty miles away. Maria and Sam got together at the end of junior year and were off and on all summer. It often split the group during their off time, but it never had a lasting effect. By the time classes were back in session, they were friends again and it stayed that way. Natasha and Bruce broke up for a very long four month period senior year, only to get back together right before graduation.

Through all the ups and downs of those formative high school years, Steve was your constant. The two of you had several deep conversations in the months leading up to graduation. You had gotten a few scholarships that would cover most of your college years, but they would bring you to California. Steve was joining the Army and would be starting basic training in June. The two of you were going your separate ways. There were no promises of writing or calling. There were no hopes shared of being together over summers or even when college was done. You loved each other and didn’t want to break each other’s hearts if those promises weren’t kept. The night before he left, he spent the night in your room. The two of you making love, holding each other, sharing memories, and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

You were flying out to California with nothing more than two suitcases of clothes. You planned to find a Target or Walmart when you got there to purchase bedding and things like shampoo and body wash. Most of the money you saved was used for your airline ticket as well as transportation to your university. Of course, you had additional funds to help with the cost of food and things you would need throughout the year. You planned on getting a job on campus to keep that savings fund going. You and the girls spent the weekend together at Natasha’s house pigging out on pizza and popcorn. They talked about flying out to the West Coast in search of movie stars and a nice tan, but you didn’t get your hopes up. All of them were staying in your home town, a few going to the nearby state college or community college in town. It was expensive to fly across the country and the fact that you would have a roommate meant they wouldn’t be able to stay with you.

Sam drove you to the airport. The two of you had become close over the last year and he was the first to volunteer. He knew that Steve wouldn’t be in town and he wanted to make sure you had someone strong to say goodbye to. While you were happy that your goal of going to college out of state and somewhere warmer was coming true, you cried. You were never more thankful that Sam Wilson was there to hold you together and tell you to wipe your nose before going to the check-in counter.

During your junior year of college your brother had called you late in the night. His voice quivered and he could barely make it through the call. Your mom had passed away in the middle of the night. The doctors said it was a heart attack. You were numb.

You found a cheap flight, a middle seat, for the next night. You e-mailed all of your professors to explain why you would be missing class for a week and a half and they understood, promising to e-mail you assignments and send you notes.

You didn’t cry when your brother picked you up from the airport, nor did you cry when you went to your childhood home to clean it out. Your mom had been renting it for years and although the landlord understood, he needed to put the place back on the market within a month. Most items were bagged up for trash and a few boxed up for your brother to store in his garage until you could retrieve them.

The nights leading up to the funeral were spent thinking about your mom. How you wished that you and her could have been closer. How you wished you would have told her you loved her more. How you wished that you would have listened to her when she begged you to come home the last three Christmases and summers. But still no tears.

The day before the funeral, Natasha had stormed into the house. Fiery red hair pulled back into a messy bun, eye makeup smudge. She was upset that you hadn’t called her when you got to town. Rightfully so as she had left you numerous messages, but you just couldn’t return them. Despite her anger, she took one look at you and wrapped her arms around you. It was only then that the emotion you held inside was released. A sob broke from your body that you didn’t even recognize the sound of. But it was you. She held you in her arms and encouraged you to cry, telling you that she would yell at you later, but now wasn’t the time.

The rest of the gang funneled in throughout the day bringing pizza and beer. Well, everyone but Steve. Wanda told you he was in town on leave, but he had a girlfriend now and figured it wasn’t right to stop by. Your heart of crushed. You knew he would eventually move on, the two of you making no promises of waiting. Even you had dated over the last three years. Nothing serious, but there had been a few men that had kept you company from time to time. But he didn’t come.

With Bucky’s well-placed threats, Steve did show up to the funeral, sans girlfriend. He didn’t speak to you before the service, but pulled you into a hug at the small reception after. Steve Rogers had changed. He was taller than you remembered and certainly had gained pounds of muscle. But those blue eyes were the same and it took everything in you not to breakdown at the sight of them. With soft spoken words of “I’m sorry”, followed by whispers of “I miss you”, you pulled away from him offering nothing but a thank you and a tight smile.

Back in California you finished out your junior and senior year with a few more phone calls to Natasha and some of the gang, but you were still distant. You didn’t hear from Steve again, but you also didn’t reach out. He had a girlfriend. Contacting him would only break your heart more.

After graduation, you accepted a job at an advertising firm. It’s what you’ve always dreamed of. You and Natasha would spend hours talking about what you’d be when you grew up and now that you finally had, you felt like you had no one to share that with. Even though the two of you still spoke, it had become harder to connect. She had a job of her own as well as Bruce.

The job you accepted was for an assistant with promises of a quick promotion of having your own accounts and working directly with a team. The first year you took in stride. Most of your days were spent on errands, proof reading, and making appointments. The job paid the bills and then some, but it wasn’t fulfilling.

One year turned into two and it wasn’t getting any better. You knew you were stuck, but you didn’t know how to get out.

Over those first couple of years, Natasha and Bruce got married but you couldn’t getaway from work to make it back to the East Coast. Part of you knew you didn’t try hard enough. Wanda had gotten married to Sam Wilson of all people, but you missed that wedding too. Bucky had a baby boy with a girlfriend he started seeing shortly after your mom had passed. You always sent a card and gift for these life moments, but it wasn’t enough. You missed your family.

When the third year of being a glorified assistant at the advertising firm was more than half over, you had enough. You called your brother who was still as painfully single as yourself and asked if you could come home. He called you stupid for even asking and told you to get your butt home. Lucky for you, your landlord agreed to let you out of your lease.

Giving your two weeks’ notice never felt so satisfying. You sold your furniture and boxed up the items you wanted to keep to have them shipped to your brother’s house. It took you seven days to drive home, stopping when you were tired or just needed a break from the road. You didn’t tell anyone you were coming back, mostly embarrassed that you failed in your endeavors. But you should have known your brother wasn’t quite so secretive.

You called him when you were a few hours away to make sure he’d be home because all you wanted to do was sleep in his spare room. Pulling into his driveway, you were suspicious to see so many cars in the driveway and along the street in front of his house. Grabbing just your backpack, figuring you could grab the rest of your stuff later, you made your way up the walk and knocked on the door. The door opened quickly and you were pulled in by the petite redhead with a swollen belly rather than the lanky arms of your brother.

“What?!” you screeched.

“I could say the same for you. Maybe call me back a little more.”

You bashfully nodded your head and wrapped your arms around her.

“I’m glad you’re home. Couldn’t have you being out of state when your God Daughter is born.”

And just like that, you were crying. “Are you sure?” you sobbed, still embraced in a hug.

She pulled back and looked you in the eyes. “You’re family and we’re glad your home.”

Natasha smacked your butt and you yelped, proceeding to climb the stairs.

Everyone was in the living room with a few in the kitchen. You were passed from Bucky, to Wanda, to Maria, to Bruce, to Pietro, to your brother who took your bag, to Sam who held on to you a bit longer than the rest. When you tried to pull away for the 3rd time, he stopped you, and leaned into your ear.

“Steve’s here. He’s in the kitchen.”

Your heart stopped and you couldn’t speak. You shook your head no and tried to figure out if you could escape to your new room without him seeing you.

“He broke up with that girlfriend shortly after your mom’s funeral. I don’t think he’s been with anyone serious since. You should talk to him.”

“Sam, I don’t know,” you replied, shaking your head again.

“Even if nothing comes of this, your both family and I want my family to be able to be in the same room.”

You sighed and nodded. He was right. Sam squeezed your shoulder as you made your way into the kitchen. Steve sat at the island with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Hey,” you said.

He quickly lifted his head, bright eyes on display and a dopey grin. You missed him so much.

“Where’ve you been? Feel like you’ve been away too long,” he teases.

Steve stands and takes the three steps it takes to get to you. Hesitantly you reach for him and it takes him no time to accept your embrace. You pull back with your arms still on his waist.

“You know, I think I’ve found my way home.”

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