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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

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you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

taglist : @criminalmindsvibez @moreidstrobed @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @temily @enbyspencer @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

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atsvmi-x · 4 years ago

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my personal characterization of eren bc i’ve been thinking about him a lot🥰 this is all modern!au bc canon literally never happened.

these aren’t x reader headcanons but i have more than enough thoughts about eren in a relationship to provide those soon!

General

Loud, brash, and loyal to a fault - you either love him or hate him (or if you’re Jean, you both love and hate him)

Those that he allows into his inner circle are friends for life. He’s easy to piss off but he’s quick to forgive when it comes to friends and family. If that doesn’t apply to you, or you cross those closest to him, he’ll hold a grudge long after the issue is resolved. You’re on his shit list for life.

He wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s literally impossible for him to conceal his emotions. If he’s angry, sad, annoyed, happy, literally anything his feeling you will be sure to know.

The same goes for his opinions. Blunt beyond belief. If he thinks something is stupid he won’t hesitate to say so. He’ll backtrack to soften his delivery if he notices that it offends other parties though.

All of these factors can lead to awkward moments. 99% of the time he’s confident enough in his stance to ignore how others might receive him but the other 1% of the time you might catch the rare sight of his cheeks heating up.

Contrary to popular belief, Eren is actually smart. Not to the same caliber of Armin, Erwin or Hange when it comes to critical thinking and analysis, but it is still above average. That being said, he doesn’t necessarily apply himself to subjects that don’t immediately interest him. However, he has impeccable game sense, making him quite the accomplished athlete.

Anger issues. Clearly. It made him a difficult child... for most of his life (and probably the reason he’s an only child) but as he’s gotten older he’s learned to manage his temper. It’s still easy to rile him up though, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before he backs down from a challenge. But for the most part his attitude is a running joke between those he’s closest with.

He has a strong moral compass and sense of justice. Not in the sense that he’s conservative, far from it. His personal ideology is: as long as it’s not hurting anyone people should do what they want. and anyone that messes with that is wrong. He’s a simple guy

Bad at flirting. He can be super oblivious and when he does catch on, he’s not smooth at all. But he’s tall and pretty so it comes off as endearing 99% of the time. It’s his boy-ish charms that save him every time.

Childhood

Cute as a button as a baby. Poor Carla and Grisha were blindsided when he hit his terrible twos.

Had no friends besides Armin until middle school when his parents adopted Mikasa.

Before Mikasa, he and Armin were the black sheep of the neighborhood kids. Eren easily alienated himself from the neighborhood kids and his schoolmates due to his brash nature. Looking back on it, he still stands with his decision since it meant he found his first friend.

(Armin didn’t fit in for his old soul thanks to being raised by his grandparents)

Super curious and didn’t realize how small he was in such a big world. On several occasions he wandered off because of his curious nature. Would have been a leash kid if leash kids were a thing when he was growing up.

Could technically be considered a school bully for talking down to kids on the playground. HOWEVER, he was smaller than other kids for a while, meaning his haughty attitude resulted in petty school yard fights that he lost most of the time. Still, he never cried and never learned his lesson.

Since we was never against a fight, he made it his mission to take up for Armin. When Mikasa joined his family he did the same for her when their peers made comments about her different looks. As we know, those roles soon reversed with Mikasa taking on a protector roll

To try and find a suitable outlet for his excess...energy...Carla and Grisha signed him up for every sport under the sun. Was pretty good too but excelled at football and track and field.

Teen

Was on a first name basis with administration during his school years for getting too invested in classroom debates. His fired up nature easily boiled over outside the classroom resulting in several fist fights

Got suspended once for said fights, but more often than not Mikasa saved him before he could get into more trouble.

So angsty. Literally a textbook case of teen angst from the loud music, dark clothes, to butting his heads with his parents he was truly a nightmare. (He recognizes this and is forever apologetic to his parents for being so difficult during this time)

Started to grow out of his rebellious phase by his junior year. There was no real explanation for it he just...did. That’s not to say that he was any less combative, he just knew what battles to pick. Good job Eren.

By the time he graduates he’s such a mama’s boy. He’s always loved him mom but now his eyes have been opened to how much of a handful he was growing up. He’s embarrassed anytime she brings up old stories but he knows it’s all in good fun.

He’s also had a major growth spurt by the time he graduates and his years of playing sports have definitely paid off. He’s a total heartthrob by his senior year and unintentionally a heartbreaker. Again, it’s hard to break into his circle, nothing personal.

Young Adult (College/Post Grad)

Commits to playing football exclusively. Not out of hopes of going pro but he just really likes the sport. He’s well known around campus between sports and his personality.

Still, he can be found with any one member of his crew at any given time. It’s rare to find him by himself unless he’s in his dorm room. He’s a total extrovert and gets bored easily when left to his own devices.

BUT he’s not a total party animal. Definitely prefers kickbacks to partying. But he will show his face if someone personally asks him to come.

Smokes and drinks the normal amount. Knows his limits and isn’t a lightweight for either. But under the right conditions (i.e. drinking games, bets, etc.) he’ll over indulge. Far too touchy when he’s under the influence.

Struggled to find his “calling” in school. Most of his friends fell into majors that they clicked with but it wasn’t that easy for him. He probably ends up with a fifth year under his belt. since he didn’t officially declare a major until maybe junior year.

Graduates with a political science degree! 1) He fooled his parents into thinking he’d go to law school which satisfied his doctor dad. 2) While he doesn’t exactly know how, he wants to improve daily life for the less fortunate and he thought this was a good step to do that. 3) He loved being able to argue for a grade during in-class debates

I know we all love streamer!Eren but I really do think he’d end up going down a creative/independent route where he’s not tied to a desk 9-to-5. It really stressed him out to think about doing thing for 50 years and then being able to enjoy life after retirement.

Other

Like previously mentioned, his music tastes were pretty narrow. But as his social circle grew and he was exposed to new genres his musical pallet has expanded. His go to genres are still heavy, but he’s not against asking what song just played if he liked it (unless you’re Jean, he’ll never give him the satisfaction).

I feel like his celebrity crush is Doja Cat. I have no evidence I just feel like he’d be into her.

Baby can NOT dance. if he tries hard he can bust a two step but usually he doesn’t usually put forth the effort though. It just gets worse if he drinks.

Very much a night owl but surprisingly, he doesn’t like to sleep in either. Feels like there’s too much stuff to do in a day to just waste it in bed. He contradicts himself though bc he can spend all morning in bed playing around on his phone (he’s addicted)

#could you tell that i love him?#eren #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren jeager scenarios #eren jeager headcanons #eren yeager scenarios #eren yeager headcanons #aot x reader #aot scenarios #aot headcanons #my writing

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woozisnoots · 4 years ago

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svt in college! | alex edition

° pairing: ot13 x reader ° genre: fluff(?), what my stream of consciousness finds funny, college!au ° word count: 1034 ° warning: slightttt violence ° a/n: i know i have requests to write >< but i really needed to write smth fun :( act as a shot of of serotonin into my veins ahahaha [insert fratboy emoji] disclaimer tho - this was ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT and very very catered to me which is why vernon’s is unnecessarily long SO IM SORRY !!! i still hope you guys think its fun :D

° masterlist!

seungcheol: a business major, minoring in international relations. has the slightest crush on you but suppresses it pretty well without you realizing because he knows you like someone else. he likes to take you on what he calls bestie dates to a nearby arcade or places to eat when you’re stressed.

jeonghan: a psych major, minoring in communications, whom you oddly spend a lot of time with because he asks for homework help every other day when you’ve only taken 1-2 psych classes in your entire life :P but he’s a good listener and subs in as therapist on the weekdays so you let him stick around.

joshua: an english major. doesn’t know why and slightly regrets it but if it means he can keep the tinie bookshelf he has in his doom to make it look like he’s smart, then that’s motivation to keep him going. you tolerate him because you guys randomly go on trips at 2am and buys you food :D

jun: a childhood education major. the friend of a friend of a friend of someone’s cousin that happen to be your friend and so you see him at parties sometimes :) actually really fun to be around when you’re not too much into the party scene and play hopscotch or bean bag toss outside the persons’ backyard.

soonyoung: the loud dance team captain that won’t give you 5 minutes of quiet time waiting for your chem professor to open the door to the lab room because he has his speakers on at max volume dancing to kelly clarkson,,,, he’s pretty chill otherwise, he’s in my math class. claims hes the eye of the tiger when he comes to class in leopard print

wonwoo: premed that’s somehow taking enough classes to graduate with a literature minor. he and cheol talk a lot because they’re in the same broadcasting club or something of the sort. you guys acknowledge each other’s presence and share a moment of tea together sometimes with cheol.

jihoon: double majoring in music composition and theory. says he absolutely hates it because he thinks the work he does is completely pointless. but then goes on to write you like 27484737 love songs within a week for a single assignment. denies to other people that you’re his best friend and that he hates your guts but you’re the only one allowed in his private studio on school days and can fiddle with his equipment sometimes :3

minghao: an art major minoring in history. eventually wants to be a gallery director so he can hold his own. you make him drag you everyone for his work when you’re bored or have free time bc he takes pictures for the school newspaper/website. you guys strike a negotiation that you drive and he buys snacks.

mingyu: you only know him for playing in your uni’s (american) football team. his tall ass is like linebacker or some shit you don’t even know his major. you had to take a kickboxing class for PE credit and you swept him to the ground and put him a choke hold. you never let him live that down everrr. you also steal his lunch money from his bag when he’s at practice.

seokmin: a musical theatre major, minoring in music composition. you guys met through jihoon. you were absolutely FLOORED when you heard him sing as the lead for the school’s spring musical. it is now tradition that you guys get crepes after every show and make jihoon pay B) he hangs out with you and jihoon a lot and randomly make music together. and ahahaha people think jihoon and seokmin are fighting over you!! >:( that’s absolutely preposterous, seokmin is too good of a soul (you say this as you help him kneed dough for the pizza you guys are making together)

seungkwan: an education major, minoring in music because he wants to teach music to little kiddos ^-^ THE BESTEST OF THE BESTIES!!! like if you’re not hanging out with jihoon/seokmin or cheol, you crash at seungkwan’s apartment and raids his kitchen when you run out of groceries ;D he keeps making fun of you for your car until you remind him that he can’t drive. on the weekends, you guys love to bake muffin, cookie, or cake recipes to prep for the daycare on mondays :3

vernon: okay actually, he doesn’t go to college SHDJSJSHS you met him on the side of the road once when you decided to walk instead of using your car (silly you!) and you saw vernon doing some cool graffiti art (IT WASN’T VANDALISM!!!). which was a total coincidence because at that point, you were ready to take a bus and wait right at the bus stop where he set up. since it was a long wait, you guys talked and he kept you company. you learn that this is actually a big project he’s been working on and is finally getting paid big bucks for something he really likes doing. you learn that he’s a great conversationalist and you miss the bus first bus ride home and have to wait another hour or so whoops! this becomes more and more of a daily thing, slowly getting to know each other. fast forward months later and it’s your birthday :D and you don’t expect anything at all because how would he know, you don’t really like your birthday anyways UNTIL vernon surprises you with a spray paint drawing of your favorite animal! and then asks you out on a date and you guys fall deeply in love

chan: a linguistics major. yeah, he doesn’t know why either, he’s just rolling with it. says he’s liking it so far, but no one really knows if he’s lying or not, including yourself. you drag chan to college events like club fairs and rallies because you’re too embarrassed to go alone and no one else wants to go LOL he begs you to drive him places during your three day weekends because he always wants to go off campus and do stuff with you and the guy pals, but he doesn’t like the freeway :/ its fine though because he pays for gas.

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sckyie · 4 years ago

Text

song: driver’s license by olivia rodrigo

word count: 2.5k

genre + warnings: angst; swearing, fear of driving, reminiscing in old memories

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: this was orignially supposed to just be an imagine inspired by the song, not apart of the song series but it fits too well to not change oikawa’s song. i also wrote this for @kybabi bc i love her :D n e wayz enjoy :) (part 2)

"So here you're going to turn and he'll make you do a parallel park in the street. You remember how to do that right?" Oikawa asked as he guided you to the next turn. As you turn the steering wheel, you spot a crowded curbside.

"No, can you please please park for me? I hate parallel parking," You pleaded.

"Only because you asked so nicely," He teased.

Ever since you told your best friend that you wanted to learn how to drive, Oikawa never let it go whenever you wanted to hang out. Having you drive him around for practice and giving you tips as you went. He's helped you a ton while you drove around, the only issues you had were parallel parking and merging onto the highway.

"Maybe we should try the highway again," Oikawa said after you two switched seats.

"Are you asking for a death wish?" You joked. "I drive too slow and I'm scare to merge into lanes."

"We can practice on smaller freeways if you want," He asks.

"No," You growled.

It was always a terrifying thing to drive on the highway. You always saw those horrid accidents and feared being in one. Oikawa would always put his hand on your thigh as you merged to calm you down. Just having him be there was enough to get you to get onto the highway. All your fears just faded with him beside you.

Just having this intimate driving lesson with him was enough for you. You grew to fall in love in your best friend. A cliché thing, yet you couldn't say anything. Only you and your girl friends knew about your big crush. It was a funny thing, falling for your childhood best friend. Iwaizumi always joked about you doing so but you never admitted to liking Oikawa. What would that do to your friendship?

Today was the day, it was your test day. The scariest thing you anticipated was finally here. The thing you practiced days on end with Oikawa. The thing that could either make or break you. Today, you'd either come out with your license or you'll be walking home.

The nerves crept up your body like spiders leaving a trail of anxiety webs. You bounced you leg as you waited in the lobby looking out for your driving instructor. As your sweaty palms go to check the time, you notice a text message from Oikawa.

butthead: hey! good luck on your test today!

That's what cooled you down. A simple saying of good fortune will help, right? Sure enough, the test was a breeze, minus the parallel parking as it was the one mistake you got. You happily drove home to tell the news to your parents.

"Have you told Tooru yet?" Your mom asked.

"I'll wait until my actual driver license to prove to him I got it," You smiled.

"You like him don't you?" Your mom gestured to the joy on your face. "I can tell."

"No," You looked away from your mom as she raised her eyebrow. "Okay, maybe but you can't say anything. I'm going to my room now." She chuckled as you dragged you feet to your room.

Two weeks passes and you finally received your license in the mail. You smiled happily down at your new card as you walked outside the school building. You looked up to search for your best friend. Your eyes scanned the courtyard before landing on Iwaizumi. Assuming Oikawa was nearby, you headed towards him.

"Hey Iwa, where's Oiks?" You asked. Iwaizumi raised up his hand and pointed across to the gate. You looked over to find Oikawa talking to Kasumi, a classmate of yours.

"He's asking her to go on a date with him again," Iwaizumi says.

Again? He's done it before?

"Are they dating?" You ask.

"Not yet, Oikawa wants to ask her to be his girlfriend on the date," Iwa explains. "What's that?" He points to your hands as you fiddled with the corner of your driver's license.

"Oh," You said solemnly. "I got my license."

You waved goodbye to your childhood friend before going into he parking lot. Without thinking, you started the car and just began to drive. Out of the school and onto who knows where. Your mind grew blank as you drove.

How could he not mention Kasumi to you? He used to tell you everything but lately he'd been so distant. Maybe that's why he hasn't texted you all week, you thought. Who could blame him for liking Kasumi? She's so pretty and not to mention how smart she is. She's the class representative and she's one of the nicest girls around.

You fell for the one man you shouldn't have. It was too late to even confess how you felt. He was already falling for another while you were left behind. You felt a sharp pain in your chest as you drove by familiar buildings.

The laundromat where you and Oikawa would go to help with the laundry. You both would end up messing around and your parents would have to kick you two out. You and Oikawa would go across the street to the convenience store to buy steamed buns.

He doesn't like you.

The library where you would wait for Oikawa to finish practice so you two could study together. He'd bring you a bottle of tea and some sort of snack to keep you from burning out. Those study dates where you'd stay until the library was closed.

Give up, stop thinking of him.

The ramen restaurant where Oikawa would take you if he won a game. It was a great celebration and you two had made so many memories there. You two had gone there so often, he convinced the owner that you were his girlfriend.

Let him go.

All the feelings you had for him began to ache in your heart as you reminisced in the memories. You gripped tighter on the wheel as you saw an highway exit. "Fuck," You whispered as you merged into the fast lane. Suddenly all those fears you had of driving, just disappeared. You felt this peace as your eyes locked on the long highway. It was like, nothing hurt anymore. Your tensed shoulders relaxed, yet you felt tears roll down your cheeks. You took deep breaths as you drove attempting to stop your tears.

Soon enough, driving on the highway had shifted from a phobia to an escape. Everyday after school, rather than meeting up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi before practice, you'd drive on the highway and on backroads. It was the only thing that kept you sane when you see Kasumi with Oikawa together.

You became accustomed to the fast pace of the highways. Occasionally you'd speed if you felt some type of pain grow in your chest. You'd blast music to drown out any thoughts or feelings you had. You knew Oikawa could never be yours, so why bother crying over him, right? The thought of being around him began to make you uncomfortable. If you kept your distance, you wouldn't get hurt. You wouldn't be considered a distraction.

butthead: hey?

you: what's up?

butthead: it's been a while since i've seen you :( i miss my best friend

you: are you sure you mean to text me or iwa?

butthead: you, y/n i miss hanging with you

butthead: you didn't come to the restaurant after our game

you: i was busy, sorry

butthead: :(

you: i gotta go, ill talk to you later

Oikawa sighed at his phone and looked across the table to Iwaizumi. "Have you talked to Y/n lately?" He asked.

"Yeah, she borrowed gas money from me," Iwa says before slurping his noodles.

"Gas money? She got her license?" Oikawa tilts his head. "How long has it been?"

"A month? You got caught up with Kasumi," Iwaizumi says.

"Hmph," Oikawa huffed as he sipped his drink. He'd been spending so much time with Kasumi that he forgot about you. Or was it, you started to forget about him? He glances at the window behind Iwa and noticed a familiar car parking.

You parked your car across the street of the restaurant next to a convenience store. You quickly got out and went into the store looking for something to drink. As you began to scan the fridge, you heard the door open. "Y/n?" You turned to find Oikawa.

"What are you doing here?" You turned back to grab a soda.

"Iwa came to eat with me since you didn't make it," Oikawa says. "He's still there, did you want to join us?"

"No thanks, I'm kinda busy at the moment," You say dully. Oikawa goes to speak but you had already walked to go pay for your drink. "Later Oikawa."

"Oikawa?" He watched as you left the store and into your car. He follows suit and watched you speed off. Oikawa quickly makes his way back to the restaurant and seats himself disgruntled. "Y/n called me Oikawa..."

"That's your name isn't it?" Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow.

"She always calls me Oiks or Ru, never Oikawa," He says. "Did I do something wrong?"

Iwaizumi shrugged even though he knew the answer well enough. After Oikawa had asked Kasumi to be his girlfriend, your demeanor had changed. Iwa was the first to notice too. Typically, after school you'd see the duo before practice started, yet since you learnt Oikawa had eyes for another, you stopped.

One day, Iwaizumi decided to follow after you when school was over. He trailed behind as you walked to your car door. You pulled open the door handle only for Iwa to shut the door immediately after. You turned to find Iwaizumi with scrunched eyebrows. "What's wrong with you?" He asked. "Why haven't you came by before practice?"

"No reason, I'm just busy," You lied.

"Liar, what's wrong?" He asks yet you remained silent. "I won't tell Shittykawa just tell me why you're being so distant...and also why your eyes are always puffy."

You paused before answering, "I'm just...upset with Oikawa...and Kasumi.."

"Do you..?" Iwaizumi implied. You nod and looked at the ground. "What have you been doing since you found out about them?"

"Driving," You sighed. "Just driving...It's keep me off my mind all week. I bear the fact that he looks so happy with her and not...me. God I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that-" Iwa started but you immediately lashed out.

"It's true! I was too late to confess! And I fell for the one boy I can't have!" You felt tears well up in your eyes. "I can't even drive by certain places without getting upset. I take backroads and I avoid them completely. I hate driving by his house but it's the only way to my own. He just treats me like another fucking fan girl! I'm just so stupid for falling for my best friend." Since that day, Iwaizumi kept to his promise. Not word about your feelings were said to Oikawa.

butthead: hey are you busy right now ?

you: no, what's up?

butthead: can you help me with something?

you: depends

butthead: meet me at the library so i can tell you more :)

You locked you phone and tossed it into your passenger's seat. You looked up to see the light change to green, allowing you to speed into the highway. Your hands rested at the bottom of the wheel as you drove. The slow, lo-fi music surrounded your car as you drove which let you get out of your trapped mind.

It was a crazy thought to think that you and Oikawa were so excited to drive together. Yet now all you want to do is drive alone. You turned up the volume of your music as you merged into your neighborhood. You leaned further back into your seat as you were driving around the suburbs. You glance at the white cars lining one street leading to the library. You scoffed at the sight as a repressed memory resurfaced.

"Why do you like white cars so much?" You chuckled.

"Because they look clean and nice? Sorry I don't like your basic silver car," Oikawa raised his hand to block your face.

"I'm basic? Says the one who wants an automatic," You pretend to throw up to mock him.

"For someone who can't drive yet, you talk big," Oikawa pats your head only to be smacked a few seconds late. Oikawa drapes his arm over you as you walked down the street to the library The entire walk was filled with mocking and talking about the future. "Let me teach you how to drive, that way we could go out together more."

You finally arrived at the library, spotting Oikawa before parking the car. He watches as you easily parallel park and is stunned by how casual you are as you drove. You set out and approach him. Oikawa holds out a snack to you but you politely refuse.

"Let's go inside?" He asks. You shrugged and followed him in. Rather than sitting beside him like usual, you sat across from him. You still had those feelings for him but you couldn't stand sitting next to him. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you anticipated his next words. "I was wondering if you could help me with Kasumi?"

Ouch.

"With what?" You ask.

"I want to give her a gift, right?" He starts. "A gift that goes along with me telling her I love her."

He loves her?

Your heart aches but you decide to move past that. "Isn't it a bit early to say I love you?"

"Well, we were long time friends before we started dating and I feel like it's the right time to, y'know?" Oikawa leans forward on the table. "Can you help me find a gift?"

This feels familiar. Helping him find a gift for a girl that isn't you. It seems like anytime he does have a crush he'd come to you for advice. This is the first time that you didn't want to give into his favors.

"No," You sighed.

"No? Wait why not?" He raised his eyebrows at you.

"Because," Say it. "Because I-"

"Because?" Oikawa tilts his head at your response.

"Because I can't keep doing things like this for you," You stood up and began heading for the entrance. Oikawa followed afterwards as he could see the pain in your voice.

"Y/n, talk to me, we haven't talked in forever. Tell me what's wrong," He says as you exit the library. You ignore his voice and reached for your car door. He grabs your arm but you shove him off.

"Would you just- leave me alone?" You snapped. "I don't want to help you, okay?"

"What did I do?" Oikawa was beyond confused at your response.

"I- You- Ugh! Just go away, I don't want to see you!" Your voice cracked as the suppressed feelings began to rise again.

"Why not!" Oikawa grabbed your arm again, this time you weren't able to break free.

"Because I fucking loved you idiot!" You yelled. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you stopped struggling in his hold. Oikawa paused and stared at you in wonder.

"You...loved me?" He asked.

"I still fucking love you! God, I hate you- I just- Let go!" You pulled off him. "I'm leaving. If you try to stop me, I'm never speaking to you again." You wiped your tears as you entered your car. Driving off into the neighborhood, crying at the red lights knowing you could've ruined your whole friendship.

Oikawa watched as you sped off. Those words lingered in his ear as he stared down at his hand where you let go. His mind was lost in thought, how could his best friend love him? Was he that blind that he couldn't see your admiration? "She...loves me?" He thought.

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @d0llpie @elianetsantana @joy-laufeyson @kac-chowsballs

#haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyu x you #hq x you #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa angst #hss; sckyie playlist

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laurieteddy · 4 years ago

Text

good company | amy march

description: where amy shares her true feelings and

request: “Could you write a Amy March x fem reader ? Maybe something like reader is a model for Amy’s painting classes and Amy falls in love while painting her and so she pursues the reader?”

warnings: light angst in one part, and mentions of homophobia bc of the time period

word count: ~3,650

a/n: so, so, so sorry this tool me so long!! requests just always seem to... i hope you like it! also, the painting classes part was sort of small, sorry!!

---

This wasn’t what Amy had expected when she thought of what would happen in her art classes. Of course she knew she would be painting live models, that much was obvious, but she hadn’t even imagined that she would fall for any of them. The models were there to do their job, and the artists were there to paint them. It was as simple as that, or was supposed to be.

When you came in, though, it changed things.

It wasn’t as if it was like “love at first sight” which a younger version of Amy would’ve believed in more. Though, as time passed she seemed to only admire you more and more. You held yourself so delicately yet seemed so carefree when talking to others before a session began. She had observed you closely from the first day she met you, which could be shrugged off in the beginning because you were the subject she was painting, of course she was observing you.

Amy shook it off as long as she could, it was completely new to her. Sure, she had feelings for Laurie at a younger age, a lot of people tend to have a crush at some point in their lives. But you were a woman, this changed everything. She told herself she was infatuated because you were the model, you were of her interest because you were the subject she had to focus on. But it felt like more than that. It felt, to her, similar to the feelings she had toward Laurie those few years ago.

The two of you had spoken quite a few times, before and after classes and sometimes during breaks if there were any. You had noticed her gaze always seemed to be following you, which you would tease her about on occasion. Amy always seemed to have a smile accompanied with a blush when she talked to you, she couldn’t help it. In times where you might poke fun at her you would earn a deeper shade of red from her cheeks.

She was glad to be able to talk to you. You reminded her of home in ways, being so carefree but at the same time you were careful to pay mind to your surroundings. You would both tell each other stories of your homes and families, your hopes and dreams even if they were silly, you would talk about anything just to have a conversation. Conversations you shared never seemed to be dry, even if you were only talking about the weather, because it was just nice to be talking to each other.

You were glad to have met Amy, finding yourself naturally drawn to her. It became a nearly daily routine to spend at least an hour of your time with one another, finding company outside of classes too now. You were more familiar with the area and so Amy took advantage of this to have you show her around. On top of that, while she fit in with most crowds just fine, she preferred your company over most other’s there, especially Aunt March.

“How’ve you never had a pickled lime?!” Amy laughed as she looked at you with furrowed brows.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged. “I guess they just aren’t as popular where I’m from.”

“They should be,” she grinned. “You know, I actually got in trouble at school for having them. That was my last day of school there, it was a dreadful place from the start.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, it didn’t sound in character for Amy to get into trouble for something so foolish. Then again, you didn’t know her at that age. Her aunt certainly seemed to think she had drastically changed though. And if you looked close you could see a more “rebellious” side of Amy. For the most part she tried her best to be proper, still allowing herself to relax though but doing so less and less it seemed.

“Why would you even get in trouble for simply having them with you?” You connected your arm with her’s as you walked through a garden.

“Well, we would trade them and the teacher decided to put an end to it, it did nothing though. I was in debt so my sister gave me money and I was able to buy enough to repay people.” She sheepishly said, “I brought a whole bundle to school but I was too obvious with them.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you, Amy March, actually broke rules and got into trouble at school?”

“I’m not trying, I am telling you,” she laughed. “It wasn’t worth the cost though. I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Ah, there we go. That sounds more like you,” you grinned and leaned against her arm.

She smiled, shaking her head at your response. Then she realized, she had grown quite a bit in what seemed like no time at all. Or, at least, she had matured plenty. It was weird to actually consider how much had changed. It made her wonder, had you changed from childhood or were you always so outspoken?

“What about you?” She glanced over, “Tell me a story from your childhood?”

You paused to think, deciding on what story you should tell her. When you thought about it most of the stories seemed to be about the same. While Amy seemed to be more outgoing in school and through childhood, you seemed more reserved. Now, though, your personalities seemed to, in small ways, flip and become the opposite of what they were.

“I didn’t talk to many kids at school,” you began, “I had one close friend, who I haven’t talked to since then. I didn’t have the same interests as the other students seemed to have, didn’t hurt me any though.”

“Well, you do seem to have found a fairly large and worthy friend group now.” Amy locked arms with you.

“I wouldn’t say large, but I thoroughly enjoy their company. I’ve found more people to relate to in my adulthood than I ever did through school.” You raised your brows, “Now, that isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy at least parts of my childhood.”

“Oh?” She questioned, “Would you share more, then?”

You smiled at her, nodding gently before telling her about another bit of your childhood. Amy listened closely, nodding every once and awhile to assure you that you had her attention. You didn’t talk about your past much, and she was always curious to learn more about you.

For hours you walked together, eventually stopping to sit on a bench by a pond. Amy was still asking you questions about yourself and would occasionally share some stories of her own. While you had been doing this for days now, talking hours on end with one another, neither of you were growing tired of it. If anything, you both couldn’t wait for the next time you would get to chat.

Recently you were finding yourselves at a lack of time spent together. Amy was talking to a man, one that was sure to propose to her soon. He could offer her money, a well enough life, just material things that Amy recalled dreaming of having when she was younger. But, she didn’t find herself too interested in him. While he was easy enough to get along with, it wasn’t exactly all she was looking for in a relationship. Then again, that wasn’t really the point of marrying him, as Aunt March would remind her.

“Won’t we talk tomorrow?” You asked, already knowing her answer.

“You know I’ll do everything I can to make the time.” She smiled sadly, “I have plans with Mr. Vaughn tomorrow.”

You could feel your heart clenching, a pain you were growing used to. Fred Vaughn, of course. Never would you dare to say anything against him, he wasn’t a bad man and you knew Amy was only doing what she must. Still, it would be a lie to say it didn’t sting a bit when she had to leave you for him. Maybe the fact that he was a good man only made it worse too. There was no real reason to have anything against, that’s what all of your friends had said.

“Don’t worry yourself too much over it,” you smiled, “we always find the time eventually. Mr. Vaughn makes good company as well, I think you’ll find yourself losing track of time with him.”

“Hmm, I disagree.” She continued walking slowly, “While Fred is good company, my mind doesn’t seem to stay focused on him even if it’s only the two of us. He is a very nice man, but…”

Amy wasn’t really sure what she was about to say. It was all true, she did find Fred to be a kind man and good company, but there was still something that Amy didn’t quite mind about having to spend time with him. She figured at first it was just the idea of actually becoming a married woman, losing all that was hers really. And, yes, that was still a part of it but there was more that she couldn’t place. Or, well… she didn’t want to think about it.

“What is it?” You reached for her hand, gently pulling her to a stop.

She didn’t turn to face you, she wasn’t sure that she could. There were too many thoughts to gather, too many words to say. Where to begin? And where would it end?

“Sometimes I just wonder if I actually like Fred or if I just like the convenience of him,” she admitted. “Like I said, he is a very nice man but I don’t know that I can see him in the way Aunt March wants me to.”

“What do you mean?” You already knew, and you knew there would come a time when this would happen, when you might lose her.

“We’re expecting him to propose.” She looked at you, “And Aunt March expects me to say yes.”

You tilted your head, “Will you?”

Amy gently pulled her hand from your grip, looking to the ground. She didn’t know her answer to that. She didn’t want to say yes, not really. It was giving her life away, but at the same time it was a promise of a, at the very least, decent marriage. Fred made good company, but he wasn’t who Amy pictured spending her life with.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Your tone was a bit sour, you were hurt by the idea that she may say yes.

“I just don’t know.” She took a deep breath, “I don’t know that marrying him is what I want to do but I need it’s… It is just what I need to do.”

“What you ‘need’ to do?” you scoffed. “Amy, if you don’t want to be with him then it isn’t what you ‘need’ to do.”

“It is though. For my family, for my future. And if I ever wish to have children it would be good support for them.” She took a step away from you, looking over the horizon. “I may not think it wise to marry him today but I can’t think about just today, y/n.”

You weren’t sure why there was this anger growing in you, if it even was anger. You supposed it was because, as you had thought before, you didn’t want to lose her. Marrying Fred Vaughn would mean she would have to go. She would lose everything that made her life her own, now and in her future. To you, it didn’t seem worth the cost. Amy seemed so happy where she was.

“Life isn’t just about money, Amy. It’s about happiness, what brings you joy. And a life with Fred Vaughn? What else can he offer but money?” You moved in front of her, a pleading look in your eyes.

“Stability. Help for Beth. A promise that I have at least some sort of good future.”

“You keep saying that, “good future”. What do you mean by that? What is a good future to you?” Part of you knew you were likely overstepping but you were so frustrated, and you truly didn’t want Amy doing something she didn’t want to do.

“I mean,” she paused to think for a moment. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you, why do you even care so much?”

Another stinging went through you. How could she ask that? Wasn’t it clear how much she meant to you?

“I don’t know,” you snapped.

Amy was taken aback, that wasn’t what she thought you’d say. She was expecting a list of reasons, a speech about how marrying Vaughn was the wrong choice. She thought you’d be ready to fight back. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight, she wasn’t even sure how it built up to where it was. You were both just becoming more and more defensive.

You both stood in silence for a few moments, taking in all of your new thoughts and uprising feelings. You knew it wasn’t so simple for her to just decide not to marry Vaughn. Amy had a lot to consider on the matter, too much for your or her liking. There was just this piece of you that wanted to be selfish though, to hold Amy close by your side and keep her for yourself. But you… you had nothing of “value” to your name. No money, no land, no name to pass along. No name to pass along. That was, you couldn’t marry. It was an entirely different topic on its own.

Two women marrying? It wasn’t something people would even talk of, let alone something that could happen in the time. Even being together, in any form, was frowned on by most.

This was likely, whether she realized it or not, Amy was pushing back the idea of having even the slightest feelings for you. Her family wouldn’t care, at least her sisters and parents wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure what Aunt March would think, though she didn’t know what that mattered to her either. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what all of those around her would think, it was an overwhelming thing for her. Amy saw herself as a people pleaser, though when she was younger it may have not always seemed that way.

Nothing about it was easy.

“I don’t have the luxury of being so carefree,” she began. “I know, too, that it isn’t always a luxury for you. I recognize your past was complicated but…” she took a breath in, “that doesn’t make mine any less so either.”

“I know,” you whispered, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to attack you like that.”

She nodded meekly, unsure of where to go from here. Now was the perfect opportunity to talk through everything running wild in her head, she wondered if you could offer some answers. Was it worth the risk of her potentially becoming so vulnerable? She would find out.

“Do you remember the first day you came in to model for my class?” Amy smiled at the memory, and out of relief for a change in subject.

“Of course,” you chuckled awkwardly. “You seemed so nervous, more than many of the others.”

Her cheeks tinted red. As she ducked to hide it she let out a soft titter, “I was. The class was so intimidating in the start on its own, and then you walked in.”

You frowned a bit, worried the story might turn negative given your previous conversation. Amy noticed, being quick to reassure you with a gentle smile and her hand landing on your own.

“You walked in, laughing, letting your scarf flow behind you. Your overcoat was the complete opposite from your outfit, I remember scolding a few people for being quick to judge you on such a trivial thing. Your hair was wild, like now,” she smiled as she brushed a tuft of your hair behind your ear.

You were blushing now. “So we’re talking about how messy I appear?” you joked.

Her brows furrowed, “Not at all. I mean all of that to say… I couldn’t believe how effortlessly beautiful you were when you walked in.”

Both of you could feel your hearts pattering against your chests. For you, you thought you might be over analyzing again, if you ever had in the start that was. For Amy, she was shocked she actually worked herself up to say that. While it was simple enough, and no doubt something one could say to a friend, it was coming out in this brand new context.

“When you came up to me after class, and you complimented my work.” She laughed, “I was at a complete loss for words. I remember being so nervous when you came up to me, I didn’t know what to say but you were so sweet. You asked me some questions, and I did my best to answer while trying to hide how… hypnotized I was. I kept thinking to myself that you would notice, that I would scare you away when you did.”

You weren’t sure what to say, you still couldn’t quite tell where the conversation was going, you were avoiding saying something you may later wish you kept private. There was also still this fear that you could be interpreting it wrong, though as she went on it seemed less and less likely that that was the case.

“I don’t want to marry Fred Vaughn,” Amy frowned and faced away.

Her fingers were lightly tracing circles over the back of your hand, something she often found herself doing to her own hands when nervous. She didn’t exactly expect any response from you, but the silence was eating away at her as each second passed without you speaking up. Where to begin?

“So don’t.” You held her hand still between both of yours.

It wasn’t so hostile this time, you were calm. Your tone sounded to be more suggesting rather than demanding. Amy was more willing to hear, both of you were.

“Fred is a lovely man, perfect company… but if that isn’t who you want to marry, don’t.” You released her hand, “Status fails to matter when you find yourself at a lack of joy.”

“I’ve heard that a few times from my mother.” You often reminded Amy of home. “Meg too, and it seems to have proven itself to be true in her case. They haven’t much, but they do seem so happy with each other.”

What Amy was trying to say was so much more than what she was getting out. She hoped you might expand, understanding you were likely nervous too. A few more moments of silence seemed to last for hours, though it was more like a minute. Talking about it was hard, not as hard as she had initially believed but it was still difficult.

“What if-- just, what if I don’t want to marry Fred because...because I don’t want to lose you?” Maybe it would be easier to be more straightforward.

“Lose me? Amy, you could never,” you moved closer to her.

“No, I know. I know that we will always have our friendship, our memories and so on. But, what if I’m afraid of losing all of it? Our long walks, never ending talks. What if you understand me better than anyone… and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose the feeling of holding you close,” her fingers intertwined with yours. “I don’t want the butterflies in my stomach when you greet me again to leave me. I don’t want to give up our spontaneous picnics or races. I want to hold it all close to me, I want to keep you close to my heart.”

“Amy,” you couldn’t help but smile, “I mean, what about everything you had said earlier?”

“Those words were spoken out of fear, y/n. I… I’ve been afraid to say any of this to you. I thought you might run the other way, and I was terrified of what would be said had anyone found out but… I don’t care. Someone will always have something to say about me, right?”

You were thrilled to hear all of this, but at the same time there was a bit of conflict. Amy didn’t tend to be so spontaneous, you wanted to be sure she meant everything she was saying before letting yourself react too much. It didn’t feel real, how could it?

She talked about the day you met so lovingly, and she seemed so smitten when describing you that day. It was almost like sitting back, listening as she talked about someone you had never met. It just seemed like true admiration so it was hard for you to imagine she was talking about you, not some stranger.

“I’ve wanted to say something similar to you for some time,” you finally admitted. “I thought it was a lost hope, seeing how we all thought you’d be marrying Vaughn.”

“Ugh, enough about Vaughn, don’t you think?” She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically with a grin on her lips.

“Absolutely,” you smiled and joked, “who knew I’d be stealing you away from him.”

“I did, the day I met you.”

You laughed as you both continued your walk. It was getting late, neither of you had minded. You spent hours more talking, about things you had been burying for too long and about how things would be changing. It was getting easier to talk about, and you’d catch yourselves tossing in random jokes from time to time to keep the atmosphere cool.

Aunt March wouldn’t be happy to hear the news, Amy didn’t care any longer though. Really, it was the last thing on her mind then. She was happy to just be walking with you.

#amy march x reader #amy x reader #little women fic #amy march x fem!reader #amy march fic #amy march x you #amy march x y/n #requested #good company

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years ago

Note

2, 15, and 94 with LoSleep?

2. Royal AU || 15. Criminal AU || 94. Hair Brushing/Braiding

anon i hope you know this is like the Perfect set up for a rapunzel AU. maybe you did. maybe you did this on purpose. regardless... tangled AU

imma go with remy being the lost princess, and logan the dashing thief, because while my instinct is to go the other way around i like Switching It Up on y'all

remy's bigender, using male pronouns but female titles/referrals. he figured this out solely because he preferred the way the male pronouns sounded, while also liking being a princess a good deal more than being a prince. he doesn't mention this to mother gothel tho. i mention this mostly so none of y'all get confused as i go sdkjhncfjsd

logan's transmale, and his struggles as a poor trans kid are what made him go Fuck Society Actually. he targets the crown especially bc the king and queen can stand to lose their gold

he doesn't stumble upon the tower after being chased for the crown, however; he's just looking for a place to hide in general. he's just made off with a good sack of gold, and he wants to stash it for a bit, let the heat die down, before he tries to buy anything with it

and that's how he finds the hidden clearing, with the surprisingly intact, singular tower dead center

he, of course, goes to investigate, and ends up nearly getting run through with a broomstick, which he feels would be a pretty bad way to go

but that's not entirely horrible, because the person dangerously weilding the cleaning implement is a bit absolutely stunning

he says as such and almost gets a broom through a lung, because apparently this tower dweller thinks he's a threat and is also insulting them

after a... lot of talking, and logan wisely easing up on the complimenting thing (for now...), they get things figured out. the tower dweller is remy, and he's waiting for his mother to return from a store run or smth. logan has to be gone before mother is back, or logan will be in trouble

aside from the fact logan doesn't really want to leave remy just in General, he has some doubts about 'mother'. like why she was raising her kid... here. in the middle of the woods. in a hidden clearing. in a high tower. with no clear way in or out (logan had to scale the thing, and it doesn't look like remy's used to that method of entrance). and the best defense weapon on hand being a broom

so when remy faux-indifferently asks logan what the moving lights are ("i know they're not stars... please don't tell me they're stars..."), logan jumps at the chance to invite remy to see them- it'll only be a day, mother wont mind that long, right? logan can keep remy safe from his every fear of that real world, and remy'll get to see the lights, and everyone will be happy

remy's hesitant, but it's clear he wants to go. it doesn't take that much prodding to convince him to leave mother a Very vague note about being back soon and being safe, to go with logan

that's when logan learns about remy's hair. he hadn't noticed before, the dirty blond hair on the floor not having caught his attention, but he certainly notices it when remy's jumping out the window, cascading down the way by hanging on to all... goodness knows how many yards of it

if he wasn't already suspicious there was something off about this whole situation, the hair that was Way longer than it should be- and way stronger to boot- tipped him off pretty seriously

and as their trip goes on? logan's only adding to the list of Sus, including (but oh so not limited to)

the clear fact remy's Never left the small, sheltered clearing (which in my version is still within the forest, no overhead open sky) to the extent seeing the sun has him doubling over and clutching his eyes like they burn

after making do with some cloth wrapped over remy's eyes for a bit, logan gets him some sunglasses and remy doesnt know what they are at first

remy has too much fucking anxiety in his him- he hides from a passing person faster than logan, the known and wanted criminal

and it's clear he's not just avoiding social interaction- he loves talking to logan, and he's plenty social and alive and everything then- but he just seems to have some fear against. well. the world

remy is also... oddly clingy to logan. like. wayyyy too much so. maybe logan could blame it on remy not knowing enough about the outside world, but it seems... more than that. as if just bc remy's decided to trust logan on this, logan's the end-all be-all of trust or smth. logan's not exactly how to put it to words but. it's wrong

overall, remy has a very Vibrant personality. he's confident, strong, unwilling to just be led around and nothing like a damsel in distress. but it seems much too... surface level. like if logan pushed too hard, it would all crumble, to reveal something- someone- who's not sure about anything and who's terrified because of it

making their way to the center of the kingdom makes it all the more clear to logan that Something is wrong with remy, and that there is no way he can ever go back to that tower

because logan's an orphan kid, he's seen his fair share of foster homes, of some of the kids who come back from them

he knows what child abuse victims look like

that's not all logan's learning about remy on the way to the kingdom, however. he's also learning about his favorite story, how much he's thought about the moving lights, how the world looks so different from the ground. logan's learning how remy's genuine smiles are much prettier than the faux one he wears a lot, how his laughs are rare but perfect, how incredible he is between the poorly concealed fear and hurt

logan's a thief and a cynic, someone's who had long written off most of the supposed good in the world, much too used to an orphaned childhood, growing up in poverty, misgendering, pain

something about remy makes him reconsider some of his more pessimistic beliefs

they reach the kingdom at midday, but remy stops them before they can actually go in. even with the sunglasses, logan can see the blinding fear in his eyes at the sight of civilization, of all those people. he grips his hair, takes a half step back, looking about ready to call it all off and run all the way back 'home'

logan grabs remy's hand. the grip is light, easily escaped, but remy doesnt, just looks at logan, trying to school his expression into one of cool neutrality instead of fear

"i can braid your hair." logan says, holding remy's gaze as he speaks. "so no one steps on it while we go to see the moving lights."

logan knows that's not the main thing stopping remy from entering the kingdom. it's an excuse, just for him. because it's easier to be worried about your hair being stepped on then to admit just being Afraid, right?

"I will not let it come undone" logan adds, lightly squeezing remy's hand. i will not let you get hurt

it's a long minute before remy agrees, but he does agree

they sit on the floor of the forest, just outside the kingdom, logan's deft fingers making quick work of the tangles that have developed in remy's hair over the course of the trip, the thief carefully watching the way remy's stiff as wood at first, trying not to react to logan's work on his hair, but slowly relaxes, leaning back a bit, tilting into logan's touch each time it comes back to remy's head

it takes a while, but soon enough, remy's hair is mostly restrained in a braid that's held together at key points by flower stems, leaving remy's hair decorated with wildflowers to boot

remy loves it. logan's starting to think he loves something too, but he's less willing to admit it

spending the rest of the day in the town is surprisingly wonderful- remy keeps close to logan, but he manages to talk to some people at times, and when they find the library he seems just about ready to die happy in there

logan stays close to him the entire time, usually holding his hand. he's never loved being around people more

it's getting close to the time for the lanterns to be released when logan realizes who remy is

the tower girl makes a comment about how familiar the lost princess's mural is. logan glances between it and remy, between the uniquely red-tinted brown eyes, the bright baby hair that could've easily turned dirty blond, the story of a dying queen and a magical flower springing to mind

remy is the lost princess. and as loathe as the thought of letting him go is, logan knows remy's the one treasure the thief can't have

so logan promises to himself, after they see the lanterns, he'll explain. he'll bring the princess to the king and queen, and hope he doesn't get arrested in the process. he'll set things right, and then he'll leave

because the thief doesn't get the girl anywhere other than fairytales

they still share an absolutely magical moment out on the water though. the way remy's eyes light up seeing the lanterns rise into the sky, sunglasses off in the dark evening, awe-struck... and when logan reveals the lanterns he snagged at one point, that they two of them can send up- logic help him, logan's not sure how much longer he can go on denying the truth

they don't kiss, don't even get close, bc logan's too busy trying to deny the truth and remy's still got a million trust issues

but remy's hand is slotted in logan's nearly the entire time, and they release their lanterns at the same time, and they hold each other's gazes a few times too long, and that seems pretty damn close to Something for them

they head back to the kingdom land before the other boats. logan knows remy will prefer to hear what he says without too many people around them, and if logan's being honest with himself? he's running away. he's running away from this closeness before it can get him (it's already gotten him, but he's always been so good at lying)

then logan gets shot :D

bc mother gothel found that note and she didnt like it!! she was after remy as soon as she saw it, and now she's caught up, and she's not letting anyone keep remy from her

she comes totting a crossbow that she levels on remy the moment she sees him. demanding he come home, saying the world is too dangerous for him to be out and about, pretending the crossbow is for logan instead, that he's a threat, can't remy see he needs to come home with her? where it's safe?

remy doesn't move. mother is supposed to be safety, right? he should go with her

...he doesn't want to leave logan

things escalate. logan says he'll never let gothel have remy again. remy doesn't react to this, but he doesn't step closer to gothel either. her frustration builds. the trigger gets pulled

it's unclear who she meant to hit but logan's the one who takes the arrow through his chest, barely even thinking as he made sure he was between remy and the projectile

by then, the townspeople have begun returning to the town, so there are people to grab gothel, ensure she doesn't attack further. someone runs for the king and queen, because one soldier recognizes gothel, as long ago as it's been since she was last seen and known and Wanted by the rulers, wanted for taking their baby

people try to approach logan, to help, but remy curls around him, refusing to let anyone near, not trusting them, refusing to lose the one person left in this world he cares about

remy's hair has fallen out of its braid, falling around himself and on top of logan, whose head remy is carefully supporting in his hands. logan's trying to convince remy it's okay, everything will be okay, that as long as remy is okay it'll be okay, but remy's really not buying it, not when logan's blood is staining his shirt and hair and his voice is getting weaker and weaker and weaker

"it's okay" logan tries to promise, even though remy can barely hear him over the gurgle of blood in the back of his throat

"how can it be okay? you're dying"

"...and you're safe" logan replies, just barely, wasting the last of his strength to reach up, cupping remy's cheek, holding his face like he was the most important thing in the world, "you're safe. and i love you"

logan's eyes slip closed after that, and they don't seem to be opening again soon

remy could do a lot of things now. scream, cry, breakdown. he's already pretty close to doing a lot of them

but instead, he sings. he sings the song mother gothel always made him, the one that could deage. he doesn't know what it will do. but he hopes against hope it'll do Something. that it will save logan Somehow

and before the eyes of the town, before the eyes of the king and queen just fetched from their castle, they watch as remy's hair glows with magic not seen in nearly two decades

it's dangerous for remy. gothel had always taught that. people would do Anything to take his hair if they knew. but he doesn't care right then. all that mattered was logan. nothing else

he doesn't even realize what he's managed to do until logan's gently shaking him, telling him he can stop singing, it's okay, for real now, he's okay, they're okay

and you know how it goes from there... the king and queen reveal that Yep Remy You're Our Daughter, logan is accepted by the family bc Took A Hit For Remy Our Daughter, remy and logan continue to have their own issues due to Childhood Abuse but with each other, and their love, they get better... and they get to live happily ever after

#okay so i would just to formally apologize for how Dark parts of this got kjsdhnfvksd #i got so caught up in the euphoria of the exchange of trust and vulnerability between the abused i lived in a world where this wasnt #supposed to be lighthearted KHDFSVJU #losleep #ts logan #ts remy #rapunzel au #abuse tw #child abuse tw #trauma tw #violence tw #fanfic #ts fanfic #the cryptid speaks #lost in the fray #so long.........

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andawaywego · 4 years ago

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A fic where Damie say their first “I love you’s”?

hey! yes! this! i’ve had a few requests for this and i hope you don’t mind, but i set it in a No-Ghosts, Modern AU bc why not? we see what i assume is Jamie’s first “i love you” in the show, which i may touch on later, but i wanted this quiet scene surrounded by the people they love first.

i hope you like it!

In the early hours of the day, the kitchen is chilly and mute, blue-gray sunlight drifting in through the windows to cast empty shadows across the counters and floors. The wind rattles through the house, sliding in through any gap it can find, and Jamie thinks that, if she tilts her head just so, she can hear the way the boards beneath her feet, the wood and stone surrounding her, bend and bulge to make room for it.

She tucks herself a little tighter into her sweater and looks across the table at Flora and Miles as they happily eat their cereal, talking to one another and Hannah. Owen is leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, his cup of tea cradled in his hands and steaming a little, still. Providing warmth, perhaps, where the house tries to leech it. Beside her, Dani shifts and their shoulders brush together and, as much of a jolt passes through her at the slight touch, the real magic is this:

That secret, little smile Dani sends her way after.

Like they are each from a hidden world that belongs to only them—where they exist and twine together in one existence, away from the prying eyes of everyone else—and are only visiting this realm for breakfast, of all things. It says a hundred secrets they’ve whispered in the dark to one another, limbs laced together warmly beneath the sheets as they caught their breath, as they kissed slowly and loose-lipped. Learning and familiar.

It’s been six months of nights spent tangled together in Dani’s bed. Six months of dinner dates in the empty kitchen late at night; of drinks at the only pub in Bly and phone calls before bed. Six months of Dani slowly figuring out sexting and Jamie nearly regretting teaching her about it when she’s interrupted in the middle of the work day with a less-than-appropriate message or worse: photograph.

Six months after that first kiss in June when they’d been walking the grounds one evening. Jamie saying something about her lost family, her shadowed childhood, and Dani turning right then and there and just kissing her. Beneath the sunset-pinked trees at the edge of the property, the heat of the summer pressing down against her skin, sticking her tight to her clothes, as Jamie presses forward into it.

Dani.

Jamie loves Dani.

It’s been right there on the tip of her tongue for three full months. She’s come so close to blurting it out on more than one occasion that she’s talked to Owen about it. Hannah. She’s called Rebecca in London and asked for advice on when she’s allowed to just say it. More than once for each of them.

So often, in fact, that Dani might be the only person sitting at the table that doesn’t actually know.

It aches in her chest, rattling around and begging to be set free, but Jamie hasn’t yet. Is too frightened, perhaps. Or maybe there just hasn’t been a good enough time.

Whatever it is, Jamie can see her own pinching emotion reflected back at her from Dani’s smile that morning so clearly that it’s nearly blinding. She’s waxing poetic about wanting to spend a fevered hour beneath the heat of Dani’s mouth in her own mind when Miles’s voice catches her off guard.

“—this afternoon, Miss Clayton?” he is saying.

Dani tears her eyes from Jamie’s and blinks, dazed, then seems to catch up.

“What’s that?” she asks. Then, “Sorry.”

But Miles doesn’t mind. Doesn’t even register her apology. Just repeats his, “I was asking if we’ll still be painting the school room today,” with little fanfare.

Understanding blesses the soft lines of Dani’s expression. “Yeah, of course,” she says. “You and Flora are going to have to put on clothes that can get paint on them, though, okay?”

Miles nods and Flora lights up the room with a smile of her own. “Oh, splendid,” she says. “I had a dream last night that we all painted a family of bears on the wall! One for each of us. Owen, yours had a mustache.”

“Did it?” Owen asks. “Sounds like a handsome bear.”

“Oh, he was.”

The conversation falls apart then, the children too excited about how they’ll be spending their day to settle down. That’s one of the funny things about Dani: before she showed up, it was like pulling teeth trying to get Miles or Flora to participate in anything resembling a chore. The school room is one that’s needed repainting for a long time—given the humidity of the rainier seasons and its position in the house, the paint has been chipping for years. Jamie always figured that, at some point, she was going to have to just give in and do it on her own, but, now that Dani is here, it seems she’s acquired three new sets of helping hands. Maybe it’s the years of teaching two dozen students in America, or maybe it’s just a special talent, but Dani has managed to turn the mundane into the extraordinary so many times that Jamie wonders sometimes if she might actually be Mary Poppins.

Wonders if that makes her Bert.

Briefly imagines dancing with a cartoon penguin and almost jumps out of her chair when a hand touches her arm.

But it’s just Dani, giving her a look that’s half-amused, half-concerned. “Sorry,” she says, but Jamie shakes her head.

“Don’t hafta apologize for touching me, Poppins,” she says, giving a little wink, and Dani’s cheeks blush pink. “Just caught me off guard.”

Beneath the table, Dani’s hand is still on Jamie’s arm, her grip loose and lovely, sparking like wires up and down the length of Jamie’s skin. She remembers that morning—Dani pressed into her back beneath the covers, one of her arms wrapped around Jamie’s stomach, her fingers moving fluidly and madly between Jamie’s legs. She clenches her thighs together and tries to calm down.

It doesn’t work.

That’s the thing she’s learned the most often since that first kiss in the gardens: being with Dani is almost like being on fire all the time. Jamie can’t seem to catch a break, and she really believes now that she wouldn’t even take one if it were offered.

“You’re so pretty,” Dani breathes, but that’s clearly not what she’d meant to say. It just comes out in this drifting voice that Jamie recognizes because she has one just like it. Part of her is constantly reassured when Dani speaks like this that she is not the only one left dazed by their each interaction.

“So are you,” Jamie says. “Before you ask, I’m going to go pick up the paint after breakfast.”

Dani’s eyebrows lift a little, then settle back down. That’s what she’d meant to discuss, apparently, and, now that Jamie has finished the thought for her, she seems a bit more in control of herself and the situation.

“You’re a saint,” she says next and Jamie rolls her eyes.

“Hardly.”

Across the table, Hannah is getting to her feet and the children are doing the same, grabbing their used dishes and toddling after the older woman to take them to the sink. Dani and Jamie linger at the table for a beat, neither of them willing to release the other from their hold when faced with a long day spent beneath the watchful, innocent eyes of two children.

Finally, Owen stands up and they have no choice. Their only alternative is to spend the rest of the day sitting right there and Jamie thinks she’d end up getting a little stiff if they decided on that.

Dani offers to take Jamie’s mug to the sink and Jamie smiles.

Says, “Thanks,” and watches her girlfriend make her way over, setting the dishes she’s carrying on the counter beside where Miles is obediently filling up the sink with warm, soapy water.

“Who’s going to be my dish-dryer?” she asks, her voice enthusiastic despite the content of her question.

Still—magic as ever—Miles and Flora flood the air with eager I will’s and let me’s.

Owen gives Dani an impressed look. Hannah just smiles and leans against the island counter.

“I’m gonna head to the hardware shop,” Jamie says, seemingly to no one in particular, but it has its intended effect.

Dani turns around from the sink and smiles over at her. “You really are a saint,” she says without a hint of joking.

“Just make sure the little gremlins are dressed and ready when I get back,” Jamie tells her. “Housework waits for no man.”

“Hear, hear!” Owen says and Dani laughs as she steps around the counter to reach Jamie, still standing there.

“If you think of anything else you’ll need, let me know,” Jamie says and Dani nods, reaching out to touch Jamie’s cold hand with her own.

“I will,” she says. “Thank you. Again.”

Jamie shrugs. “No trouble. Won’t take too long.”

Normally, this would be the part where Dani would give her a quick peck on the cheek or on the lips and say her goodbyes. Just a quick thing because they’re half-a-year into being together and that’s the sort of thing couples do. Or so Jamie has seen on TV and is learning now—she hadn’t much experience before Dani. It’s happened so often in the past that it’s practically routine now, but things are different just then.

Something changes.

Because Dani does lean in and give Jamie a quick kiss on the lips. She does say, “Hurry back,” like she normally might have, but there’s an extra part thrown in at the last second.

“Love you.”

Dani says it so quickly, so thoughtlessly, that Jamie responds before she even processes the significance of those two words.

She just says, “Love you, too,” and goes to pull away.

But, before she can, everything comes crashing into her like a freight train. Dani seems to be undergoing the same realization Jamie is given the way her eyes are wide and unblinking.

They stare at each other for a moment—seemingly forever. Dani stands in front of Jamie, the light from outside brightening her hair into a halo like an angel’s, and her blood is pumping swift through her heart and veins. It’s strange that all she’s doing is standing in the kitchen—Miles and Flora and Hannah and Owen standing just behind Dani—and yet she feels like she could very suddenly run to the moon and back without needing a break.

Like she could fly or spread her arms around the world without an ounce of trouble and squeeze it tight. Like she should because Dani just said she loves her and shouldn’t that make her capable of anything?

She thinks so.

“I love you,” she hears herself say, slower this time, making sure that Dani understands.

Dani’s lips part just barely and she nods like she’s agreeing to something, but Jamie isn’t sure what. “I love you, too,” she says. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, her eyes tracing the gentle shape of Dani’s face, the dip of her nose and the slender arch of her neck.

Dani leans forward a little, their foreheads brushing. “I love you,” she repeats.

Their lips brush together, soft and singing reverence in a kiss that can’t be sustained because each of them is smiling too much for that. Cool fingers wrap themselves around Jamie’s hands and it very suddenly doesn’t matter who else is in the room for this. It might as well just be them.

An ordinary morning. Breakfast in the kitchen and work to do later. After a night spent doing normal things; making dinner together and watching TV. Jamie vacuumed her flat and Dani wiped down her counters and then they fell into bed together because that’s what it is to love someone.

That’s how you do it.

In the little in-between times. Love in offering your jacket when it’s cold; in pressing your chilled toes against the warmth of your other’s skin; in brushing your teeth side-by-side and holding hands when you’re waiting in line with your shopping basket at the market.

What is so frightening about that?

What better time to say it than when you can’t keep it contained any longer?

Nothing.

There isn’t a better time.

Easy does it.

Life ticks on around them—the children laughing and splashing one another with water, Owen making a joke that only Hannah finds funny, and that soft, green paint waiting to be picked up in town—but Jamie takes a moment to breathe. To let the puzzle pieces slide together, colors mixing in and stirring out smooth. Clean.

Leans in and kisses Dani again, longer this time, and says what she’s been wanting to say all along, which is this:

“I love you, Dani. I love you, too.”

#damie au #damie prompt #dani x jamie #dani/jamie #thobm #dani x jamie fanfic #the haunting of bly manor #fluff

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duskodair · 4 years ago

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further Noel lore, by popular demand (with the old bc why not)

The one constant in her life has always been him. One of them was born first, but they're not sure which. Names don't stick to them. Dozens of monikers have come and passed them by. They barely use names for one another, so it doesn't matter. They know vaguely which order the children they might have once been were born and named, but neither of them actually know to which of them each name belongs.

They come to the orphanage as a pair of red headed infants, identical and inseparable. Among the other children, they are easily lost in the muddle. They grow up holding hands and answer to both names. They come to answer to others as well, as staff members forget and rename them from the pool of other children.

The orphanage is a loveless place. They learn of the distant love of a God who has forsaken them from nuns who have no time for them. They learn to walk holding hands and make their own language to whisper the secrets they learn from watching places that the convent do not want them to see.

The nuns can't keep the right names pinned to the right child and by the time they leave the orphanage, their papers are muddled and merged, inseparable in their scarcity. At fourteen, they do honest work for a few months, pulling in a pitiful wage between them. They answer to the names that the nuns told them they were given as decide that it's not for them.

Knowing their letters, at least, gets them into interesting places. Gossip slips by them. They come home with stories and whispers of crimes committed in distant towns. There's nothing truly behind it, but it intrigues them.

They leave the town they were raised in with the collection money for the convent's charity children. They never saw any of it whilst they were there, so they reckon it's theirs to take.

They do it sensible, though, no grand heist and sudden exit. One day two nobodies walk the streets and the next they are gone, notice properly given and a forwarding address passed along to those it may concern. Perhaps they go where they say they are going, perhaps they do not. The convent only realises the theft far later than it could be solved. And by that point, they are dust on the plains.

'New town, new names' is their policy. It gives them something to do on their journeys. Their childhood gives them a wealth of options as they work their way through the Good Book. She chars for a family as Leah, subtly learning to mimic the habits of those born into money as she beats dust out of the curtains. As Mary she is a gentle lady, down on her luck, willing to watch the children.

She never does a con without him. It starts with petty theft, enough to tide them over. But they grow confident as the years pass, and still the sheriffs fail to put out a bounty for names they've left behind.

Both of them claim to do the most work in their enterprise. She scoffs and says he's far too distracted by pretty stable boys and saloon lasses for his case to be true. He argues that she's too busy staring at her own reflection in things to possibly be doing the most work.

She kicks him, out of principle, before grinning. They're nearly done with this town. Regretfully, they're about to have a family emergency and the gentle seamstress' assistant and the errand boy will have to leave. It will be a while before anybody notices that old Mr McCoy hasn't been seen in a while. Well, perhaps the young ladies he used to shout at might notice, but the twins don't think they'll miss him.

Noel swings out her legs one last time before depositing them in Jonah's lap. She leans back as she considers the best way for Miss Miranda DuVal to break her incoming family crisis to her employer to potentially receive offerings of sympathy. In the last town she'd received a lovely pair of hand me down boots. She's hoping to do much better here, and well, there's some lovely stuff in the Atkinsons' unpaid tab.

The breeze picks up a little. Nothing like a peaceful walk and a casual picnic to enjoy their last day in this town. She looks away from the disappointing straggle of houses that make up the town, towards her brother. He's lying down in the prairie grass, staring up at the passing clouds. She thinks he's probably thinking about a barmaid again. He's got that look on his face.

She rips up a bit of grass and tosses it at him, 'keep your raunchy thoughts off your face. I don't want to know'

He tosses the grass back at her, 'I can do what I please. It's my own bleedin face'

With that, he rises, pushing her legs from his lap.

'Now come along, sister dearest, I'm sure we are missed. I must see if Old Man Thomas needs any more of those crates lifting, and I'm sure you have embroidery to do'

She lets him read her disdain before rising and schooling her features into the amiable Miss DuVal. 'Of course, brother, shall we go, then?'

She takes his arm and they head back to finish the performance before the appointed hour of departure. They make their arrangements and say their goodbyes. Jonah receives his kisses and Noel her tea gown.

On the road they pick new names, write a new story. When she stumbles in a gopher hole, he christens her Grace. She makes a hand gesture that the nuns certainly would not have approved of and accepts the name.

Town after town they pass through, weaving their way West, across the country. Their cons become bigger and grander and their budget grows.

For all their griping, they make an excellent team, she thinks, as he combs out her hair for her next performance. Their plan is to land a quiet jackpot in the town of Danser. It's been in their sights for a while, a little passing place, irrelevant. Perfect.

They have a few weeks to go before they arrive, appearances to make along the road. They call themselves Underwood for the branch that Jonah stumbles into as he stumbles around their camp after dark. They turn the branch into a lumber business and laud their wealth to one another.

Noel laughs into the fire as she weaves stories of their loving Papa, whose only desire in life is to see his daughter married off to a reputable man. Jonah grins as he fleshes out the tragedy of their gentle mother, taken too soon.

At least, Noel thinks, she won't have to wear the fashion of a widow too long, as Jonah will, of course, have to return her to the loving safety of her father, if there is nobody left in Danser to provide. She checks the Derringer strapped to her thigh and consigns her new life story to memory. Yes, she thinks, Noel will work as a name for a while.

______

Danser is quiet the day the Underwoods ride into town. On the surface, they bring little change, just a business deal and a wife for the wealthy Mr Tobias Lloyd. Noel rides into town as a bartering token for her family's lumber business, a symbol of an alliance sealed.

Jonah Underwood brings her into town, red hair tousled in the wind as the twins drive, laughing, down the dust scattered road. He's going to stay in Danser as she gets settled.

He'll probably stay longer than expected, loath to leave her. They've never been more than a week apart throughout their short lives. Where she goes, he follows, but this time, he cannot.

Noel is prepared, she thinks, for a husband. Her trunk is packed with all her worldly possessions and the wood of the carriage is steady under her hands.

The town spreads before her, barely a stopping point out from the city. Home, it seems, now. She's a long way from Tennessee. She's a long way from their smaller cons. Jonah meets her eyes. They're ready.

Her fingers dust over the derringer that she carries strapped to her thigh. She smiles. The plan is simple. She can do it. Jonah guides the horses forward into town, nodding to the old man on his stoop outside the general store, before heading to the Emerald Hotel.

She holds her head high as Jonah makes arrangements. The role is easy, she smiles and nods and watches. Noel is quiet and demure, but ever watchful, cataloguing her new neighbours. She plays naive, batting doe eyes at passers by, luring people in to speak with them.

They spend a day getting settled, researching, making appearances. They go to church, make nice. They start tabs and pay them off, respectable like, with the money of dead men. They find out about Mr Lloyd. He's wealthy and removed, just their type. His employees dislike him, after a few drinks, and when Jonah reports back, so does she.

She is all smiles, however, when Jonah presents her with promises of lumber money. She twirls the loose curls that soften her cheeks around a finger, and in that motion, she has him. Soon the hair around her finger becomes a ring and she becomes a wife.

Tobias Lloyd is, fundamentally, a disappointing husband. Everything he tries to teach her, she already knows, and quite frankly, he's barely competent. He tries to run her in circles but his fall short of the ones she's running around him.

Jonah rides between Danser and the city, keeping the financial side of the con running as Noel pushes her hands into the running of the household. She takes control, bringing home arsenic for cleaning and for rats.

She makes appearances with her husband in the Emerald Hotel, a doting wife out for coffee. She wears fine gowns and resists gossip, staying upstanding, but never cold. She likes to think that she's making her mark in the town, becoming known. If she is, she's doing her job properly, settling her character witnesses.

Everything is going perfectly until it isn't. Jonah slips. Noel doesn't even discover how until it is too late and the gunfight is lost and Jonah is bleeding out in her arms, his tab with God unsettled and their victory bleeding away.

She buries him in the churchyard, demure and sweet, watching the stone with the wrong name mark her brother's place. Later, she rides out and screams, hands still stained red with his blood. She remembers his unsettled tab and sets out to match it, so that one day she can join him once more.

She returns to town and puts on her gloves. Tobias loves her, she is the perfect wife, so attentive to his bouts of illness and so concerned.

Noel forms the perfect cover, she plays her part perfectly. With a little sacrifice, she covers for Jonah's slip. She helps collect funds for the new church floor, embroidering kerchiefs with dainty patterns for the pastor to sell. The new pastor admires her faith, he smiles and says one day she'll see heaven. She does her best to ensure that won't be so.

Tobias grows sicker and sicker and Noel worries more and more. At least, in public. Old Man German at the store grows tired of her asking after medicine. There is never any coming in.

Calling for the Doc is a risk, but a necessary one. Fortunately, it pays off, he patiently assures her that he's not a doctor and he cannot cure her husband. He's the best Danser has, however, and all her husband will see. She grows fond of him on his visits, another respectable alibi and connection for when she is alone.

She forges ties and prepares for widowhood. She ties her hair up neat and slips into the saloon instead of the hotel on a Friday afternoon, seeking the Doc, looking to keep herself in his mind. She's going to need a new husband soon, anyway, and it's always a good idea to plan ahead.

#chill to reblog #a town called danser #noel #jonah

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medicifm · 4 years ago

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* not me actually writing an intro the night before like i always mean to 😳 hennyway hey biddies , i'm chloe , im in the snowy part of pst , & i use she / her pns . i’ve been . . . . . . . scouring the tags for an rp like this so im so excited to bring this newish muse of mine here ! im here to do the honours of introducing my himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside . . . oscar 🤡

( twenty three , cis man , he / him ) ✉ ― hey babes , have you met OSCAR MEDICI ? they’re working here as THE HEAD CHEF AT LORENZO’S , a few villas down from where you’re staying . you might hear them singing ALRIGHTY APHRODITE BY PEACH PIT playing from their villa , it’s their favourite song . yes , they hear that they look like JACK GILINSKY a lot , actually - it’s really uncanny . their friends back home in SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA say that if they were on a tv show , their trope would be THE WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING , how funny is that ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢 .

pinterest | wanted plots |

𝐢𝐢 .

name : oscar gabriel medici

age : twenty three

dob / sign : december 4th , 1997 / sagittarius sun , leo moon , libra rising

pob : sydney , australia

gender / pronouns : cis man & he / him / his

career : head chef at lorenzo’s , full - time heathen , professional disappointment for mothers everywhere .

drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / more often than he’d admit / never .

religion : jewish background , currently non - practicing .

physical : jack gilinsky fc , dark brown / black longish curls ( reference ) , dark brown eyes , canon jack g’s tattoos , no piercings , 6′2″ , 175 lbs , lean but strong . tattoos a la canon!jack , pearly white smile that he may . . . or may not . . . use crest 3D white strips weekly to maintain . lots of burns & scars from kitchen mishaps on his hands & arms .

traits : hard - working , flighty , intelligent , hedonistic , charismatic , intense , volatile ,

other : speaks weird french ( aussie accent tings ) , tans easily but wears sunscreen nonetheless , works hard parties harder , can’t read a lick of french but spends a lot of his free time with a coffee & a new paperback , has a bit of an internal vendetta against rich people ( for no real reason , he just doesn’t like most of them ) , has ins with a bunch the local farmers & visits them weekly , pretends he isn’t lowkey addicted to nicotine administered via a puff bar , liquor of preference is tequila or red wine , drives a lil vespa around town for the gag of it ( loves seeing it haphazardly parked amongst a bunch of luxury cars ) ,

character inspo : jess mariano ( gilmore girls ) , gordon ramsey 🤡 , patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢 .

oscar’s arrival was as unwanted to his parents as could be : a father whose tendencies leaned towards alcoholism & abusing whoever was in arms reach , a mother whose life was more or less spent at the nursing home she worked as a nurse at , evading home . he became a self - inflicted loner , preferring to do literally the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted from him . he had a few friends he ran with , but watching them all go off & study or prepare for university solidified in oscar’s mind that the non - traditional route was for him . growing up by the water , oscar always felt more drawn to skip school & head to the beach than he did obeying his parents wishes .

one of his solaces was his grandfather , gabriel , who owned an italian restaurant in a beach town north of sydney . whenever the weather was bad & oscar felt like ditching class , he’d head over to his nono’s restaurant where his ass would be put to work as soon as he set eyes on the restaurant . it was tough work , but challenging in a way that fanned the flames in oscar’s heart , rather than dimming them . by the time he was a teenager he was working in the restaurant everyday after school , an agreement between him & his grandfather framed on the back wall that stated that as long as oscar kept from flunking out , he was allowed to spend as little or as much time in the kitchen as he pleased .

his absolute defiance of anything traditional & following the rules made him unpopular with adults , but lowkey cool with the girls . by the time he was sixteen , he was losing his focus on the restaurant & his grades & spending more & more time chasing after girls . his nono tried to get oscar to come back & focus , but as always , anything he’s asked to do quickly becomes the thing he’s running from the most .

tw : death , cancer . around his eighteenth birthday , his grandfather suddenly fell ill with a rare form of cancer that took his life six weeks after diagnosis , which rocked oscar’s world . he felt overwhelming guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with his grandfather , which manifested itself as oscar dropping out of school a year shy of graduation to commit himself fully to perfecting his grandfather’s techniques , learning all of his recipes ( read : pouring over dozens of handwritten cookbooks ) in some failed attempt to get back some time with him . oscar hadn’t been close with his parents in years , more or less seeing them as wardens of a prison he wanted nothing to do with . his grandfather’s will left him the deed to the restaurant , with an ask that oscar would promise to act on whatever he felt called towards , rather than doing what others expected of him . to be candid , this whole situation crushed him .

eventually , he decided he’d had enough of the stifling community he’d grown up in . he sold the restaurant to one of the regulars , a wealthy man who he’d come to acknowledge as somewhat of an uncle ; a safe pair of hands who would treat his grandfather’s legacy with as much passion & respect as oscar himself would . so he packed a bag , texted his mom that he was going traveling , & got on a flight that evening . he traveled all around - first through central america , then through europe , throughout asia & africa , & spent a few months driving a van across the continental united states & canada for fun .

eventually , he started getting low - ish on money , & decided to settle in one of his favourite places he’d visited : southern france . he arrived in early 2018 , taking on whatever menial tasks he could while learning french until he got a position as a line cook in an italian restaurant . a few years later , he’s made his way up to filling the head chef position , an honour he takes with pride . he’s implemented many of his own recipes while using flavours he’s learned from his travels , with ingredients straight from local farmers . he’s earned the restaurant a two michelin star rating , & is constantly striving for more to get that last star ( both for his own ego as well as a secret debt to his grandfather ) .

𝐢�� .

ok but that vid where gordon puts two pieces of bread on someone’s head & calls them an idiot sandwich ? that’s oscar . intense as fuck in the kitchen , & best nobody catch an attitude about it bc he will not hesitate to hand them their ass on a silver platter .

another gordon reference : you know how he’s the spawn of satan with adults , but the sweetest , most helpul guy with children ? that’s oscar with his staff vs people he wants something from . whether its to sleep with them ( usually his first instinct to be fair ) , their money or clout , or to get into some wild adventure some random resort staff wouldn’t dream of getting into , he can turn on the charm whenever needed .

can go from absolutely demoralizing someone in the kitchen to stepping out into the lounge to schmooze with his friends or cougars who leave phat tips in 0.2 seconds . the speed at which his mood can completely 180 is one of the seven world wonders ( last i checked ) .

his love language is absolutely acts of service . catch him actually falling in love once in a blue moon & making it his mission to cook her extravagant meals everyday .

the wolf in sheep’s clothing label epitomizes his nice , helpful , charismatic exterior , while ulterior motives & disdain for those who grew up with more money than he did lurk beneath the surface .

he can be MEAN when someone fucks him over or pushes him farther than he wants - isn’t afraid to go for the low blows or send someone home with an identity crisis if it protects himself .

lowkey alcoholic but he’s not ready for that conversation yet . he sees it more as perks of the location & atmosphere he’s found himself in .

also lowkey falls in love HARD , like this man is a closeted romantic but self - sabotages all potential relationships before they can get to that point out of fear he’ll be unable to live life of his own volition ( takes a flaky philophobic sagittarius to know a flaky philophobic sagittarius 🤡 ) . has probably only had a few real relationships besides flings bc he’s afraid .

𝐯 .

check out my wanted plots tag listed here , as well as my pinterest wanted plots ��board here . here are some other suggestions hehe :

best friend / ride or die : someone who knows about his past , keeps him grounded when he’s lk spiraling & wants to drop everything & flee to some far flung corner of the earth .

actual relationship : it was fast - burn with deep feelings ( not them thinking they’re soulmates after dating for a month . . . pete & ariana type beat ) but completely unrealistic . they have their own life , he’s pretty much tied to the restaurant , not to mention his lack of sharing anything about his childhood / life back home . they loved & cared for each other , but crashed & burned fairly quickly because of how idealistic it was . they can either be on bad or good terms now .

hateship with sexual tension 😈

summer flings !!

fake boyfriend : he shows up on her arm to her family’s events where she’s expected to have a partner . it’s not a real relationship , but her parents don’t need to know that . he plays the part & satisfies her parents beyond the bare minimum , & in return she invites him to parties , takes him out on her family’s yacht , etc etc . we luv some symbiosis

i can always use more fwbs hehehe

squad : a group of people who do everything together , have a chaotic group chat , have nicknames for one another , are utd on each other’s sex lives , party all night then show up to brunch hungover together .

cat & mouse : someone he’s pursuing who isn’t quite giving in , & vice versa . maybe it’s been going on a few years , everytime they’re in st tropez they have this weird lil flirtationship thing goin on until she leaves , they forget about one another , then pick it right back up when she returns .

confidant : preferably someone from a working class background who understands his plight of being a worker amongst people who expect to be waited on .

enemies : they don’t like his attitude , & he doesn’t like them in return . lots of eye rolls , shit talking , & tension between their mutual friends .

we’re sleeping together but we shouldn’t be but that’s half the fun : for whatever reason they became friends , starting hooking up despite it not being a good idea ( read : he’s exes with one of her friends , her parents want her focused on career , they’re part of the same friend group , etc ) . . . but now they can’t stop . lots of stolen glances across rooms , squeezing past one another in a crowded club just close enough for a quick touch to the back , quietly leaving one another’s places the morning after & playing dumb to anyone who asks .

#villasintro #eeeek im hyped !!

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kikuism · 4 years ago

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kikou rom-com anime where kiku is just a regular student, not a rich kid. kou has a nishimiya-style introduction to the class where he explains that he’s blind, but he looks forward to spending this year with his new classmates. he also writes his name on the chalkboard (kou knows the kanji for his name since his mother had it engraved on a clay block when he was very little, and he’d pressed his fingers over it and gotten a feel for every line and stroke. he still has the block), a little shakingly, a little clumsily, and some of the lines of the kanji are skewed and bleed into each other, and the class watches in silence, and the only sound is the chalk scraping against the board, and kou sets it down and turns to them. ‘i can’t see you all in front of me,’ he says, tilting his head with a smile, and pointing to his eyes, ‘but i look forward to having a wonderful year with everyone.’

kiku doesn’t think much of him at first beyond the initial fascination that the rest of the class has. kou already has an assigned assistant to help him out with things, noriko, and they’ve known each other since childhood. kiku thinks he’s kind of pretty, but whatever, that’s not a big deal. and he can’t let anyone know about that bc he keeps his sexuality under wraps at school. also, naomi will find out someway or another, and that’s another can of worms entirely, so he keeps his head down and minds his own business.

one day noriko calls in sick though and since kiku is known for being the helpful student (letting others copy his notes, homework, etc, running errands for them) he’s assigned to be kou’s assistant for the day. kiku is absolutely flabbergasted bc he doesn’t know how to do any of that without coming across as offensive; he’s stuck on how he should guide him around the school and how he should adjust his language around him.

kiku is sweet but clumsy in the beginning. he always forgets to specify directions (’it’s over there’ instead of ‘it’s two doors down to the left’) and gripping onto his arm too hard when they approach stairs bc he’s scared he might slip. kou is quietly amused with his antics. eventually kiku learns. he types his notes for him so his screen-reader can read them to him and makes sure to never fill his cup to the brim with tea/juice/water at lunch, and to say, every time he approaches him, ‘it’s me, kiku’ even if his own name in his mouth makes him feel flustered and awkward. it takes a few weeks for kou to familiarize himself with kiku and he eventually he can identify and recognize his voice and also the faint cherry blossom scent that wafts off him :’0 and one day kou says, as they’re walking under the cherry trees at school, just as a passing comment, ‘i can tell when you’re nearby, you know? you smell just like these cherry blossoms’ and kiku nearly trips and falls flat on his face, because, oh my god, why would he just say something like that?? how does he mean it?? and he looks so pretty, the way his brown hair catches the light, and his smile, and....kiku realizes he’s very Not Straight. but he keeps his lips shut.

not to mention, he realizes how close he and noriko are. he wonders if they’re secretly a couple. or maybe they were in the past. he watches them and his stomach kind of knots a little, and his throat burns. he sees the casual hand she places on his shoulder, his knee, the way their heads come close when they laugh, the way a lock of his hair brushes her cheek. it’s fine, he tells himself. it’s not any of my business.

but his small crush just blossoms into this giant flower in his chest as the weeks go on, stretching into months. he makes lunch to share with kou and when he smiles and says, ‘this is delicious, kiku’ he thinks his heart will stop at the sound of his name on his lips and the way his smile looks on him. his head is filled with him. he’s always on his mind. and one day late in the afternoon when everyone else has just about left the classroom for the end of the day, he and kou are the only ones left. and then kiku just blurts, ‘are you and noriko-san dating?’ and kou laughs so hard and long that kiku is stunned speechless, because he’s never seen so much unadulterated joy radiating from him. ‘nori-chan is my best friend’ he says, in his smooth lilt, with a smile. ‘nothing more, nothing less.’ kiku mumbles yes of course, sorry for asking. after a bit of quiet, kou says, ‘i like being around you, kiku. you’re quiet, and ... i like quiet.’ he explains that he doesn’t like loud places because he feels lost and disoriented. kiku notices how he doesn’t face him when he talks, but that his ear is to him. and this little detail is all it takes for him to ask questions. he learns that kou was born with very little vision, able to discern shadows and shapes at most, and now has no remaining vision. he is still sensitive to light, though, so he wears shades outside on bright days. and....that’s really all about his blindness. he tells kiku his favorite foods, his social media handles, his mother’s flower shop.

kou admits at time he sometimes feels guilty for keeping nori-chan with him, and that he feels like he’s keeping her away from her friends, but he doesn’t like watching movies at the theater or going for karaoke--which is what they’re always inviting her out to--and then she feels bad for leaving him behind, but he always tells her to go on ahead. so kiku boldly suggests ‘let’s go out together, you and me’ and kou smiles and kiku blushes-- ‘no, not like--i didn’t mean it like that! i just...we can do something fun tomorrow. me and you. if you want.’ kou says he would love that.

kiku suggests they go to a pottery studio. he’s never been before, and neither has kou, but it seems like the perfect hands-on activity. and they are both terrible at it, in the start, and half the time they can’t get their hands aligned properly and wheel is spinning uncontrollably while wet clay splatters everywhere and they both laugh themselves silly, and kiku reaches out without thinking and swipes some drying clay from his cheek. kou goes still, memorizing the feel of his finger, the way is strokes him gently, and they’re both a little flustered for a moment. still, they manage to create some bowls that aren’t complete atrocities; they glaze them and will return to pick them up a few days later.

kiku walks him home. it’s late evening and no one’s around save for the occasional passing car. sometime later kou slips his hand into his. kiku startles, wondering if he accidentally let his hand slip from his elbow, and makes to right himself, but kou gently just takes his hand again. kiku’s heart starts a dangerous patter. ‘i’m ... supposed to hold your arm,’ he tries, wondering if he might faint. kou hums a little. ‘i know.’

kiku realizes, shit, this is really happening, he’s holding my hand on purpose, oh my god--

it hits kiku like a truck, then, and he sort of wants to cry. he mumbles breathlessly, ‘you’re like me!’ and kou smiles sweetly and squeezes his fingers. ‘you’re not blind,’ he says, and kiku says, much more quietly and softly, and his voice cracks a little: ‘no, you ... you like boys, too.’ this one secret from his heart he has never ever voiced aloud until now. and kou smiles. ‘i do.’

#personal #kikou #long post #they are so sweet..........someone hold me

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rowanfoster · 4 years ago

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{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare, aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

#ok.... one more time kngrdjsnh

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