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#we see you costuming department!!!!
musicalchaos07 · 1 year
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Nancy and Jonathan’s last outfits of season 4 complimenting each other is very personal to me 
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new-haven-psych-ward · 9 months
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Kamen Rider Geats episode 42 poorly summarized via memes with as little context as possible:
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vroomvroomwee · 7 months
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Aziraphale's vest
I'd like to take a second and talk about his vest because I think it's a really good metaphor for Aziraphale's internal feelings.
At first glance it's obvious the vest is quite old. Really old in fact if you note the way it's practically disintegrating.
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And it got me thinking a bit. The way the white practically bleeds from the edges of the neck, shoulders and buttons, going further and further, one day if he's persistent enough to wear it, it might even take over the entire vest. You could say that that, somehow, mirrors Heavens influence over Aziraphale. Slowly, slowly, biding their time, until it has completely ridden him of any colour. Until it has completely washed him of his identity, of his originality, of his character.
Take a look at his clothing when he's up in Heaven.
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Completely and utterly white. Every piece of clothing he's wearing is pure and untarnished white. Upon entering Heaven, against his own accord, it has stripped him of his uniqueness, of anything that might distinguish him from any other angel who blindly follows orders and who's sole purpose is to do Heavens bidding.
Now, he could miracle the white patches on the vest away easily. But he doesn't want to.
The thing is. He likes the imperfect. He likes partaking in human activities and pleasures, like food, music, etc. Likes to indulge himself in earthly things Heaven would label as sinful or "sullying." And as someone who bas been on the receiving end of Heavens ridicule and passive aggression for millenia, as someone who for centuries has been told that he's underperforming and needs to do better, as someone who is all too aware of his own impurity by the standards an angel should hold and of the quite frankly unholy behaviour in performing immoral temptations and directly going against Heavens orders no more than a few times throughout the eras, it's no wonder he finds comfort in the imperfect.
He keeps the deteriorating edges because they are a perfect representation of his own internal feelings and image. After all, there's no rule that says he can't. And a big kudos to the costume department, for the patches perfectly encapsulate his religious trauma. Without it, he would probably be a very different person. He wouldn't be the same Aziraphale we know and love. The same way he likes being old-fashioned with his clothes and how that is a part of who he is, his trauma is a part of him as well, along with Heavens influence that has shaped him into who he is today, whether he likes it or not.
Every part of the vest illustrates Aziraphale's character and internal feelings, which brings me to another point I want to draw attention to, and that is the BACK of the vest.
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It's DARK. And I don't think I'm mistaken when I say that most of us didn't expect it to look like that from behind. We all just assumed that it would be the same beige colour as the front, which is in tune with the rest of his attire. After all, seeing him wearing a dozen different outfits all throughout history, all of them some shade of white, it was the logical conclusion.
But no.
It's not white. It's a dark, slightly viridian or a dark blue colour. "Dark blue suggests a more mysterious depth or ominous quality. Power and authority: Dark blue signifies power and responsibility. "
Not what we would have expected that colour at all. Similarly to how one wouldn't expect an angel to perform temptations or be gluttonous, or envious, or slothful, or hedonistic. Not at first glance anyway.
Not unless you look carefully.
Not unless you know him.
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The coat almost acts like a cover. The light over the dark. Almost as if it's trying to hide something. The only times we see Aziraphale not wearing the coat is in his bookshop. Which is logical, of course. You wouldn't wear a coat indoors, obviously. Except he DOES. He wears the coat when he and Crowley are drunk, he wears it when he's reading Agnes Nutter, he wears it when Gabriel and Sandalphon pop in, he wears it when he's talking to the Metatron, he wears it when he's listening to Shostakovich, he even wears it at the Ritz where it would be custom to take off your coat while dining. And it's worth noting that during the events happening (at least in the first season), the season is summer. Which would make it quite ridiculous to be wearing so many layers everywhere you go and therefore risk boiling. But he still wears the coat.
The only times he doesn't wear it is in the first episode after the sushi, when he's all ALONE, and in season 2 at the bookshop when Crowley comes back and in 1941.
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And there's something oh so personal about that.
I don't think it's a coincidence that the darker part is specifically the back of the vest. There's always been this natural human instinct to protect yourself by never ever turning your back on a foe. And I don't think this is a conscious effort on Aziraphale's part, but rather genius writing, directing and costume design, and anyone who's watched and read Good Omens knows that almost nothing is coincidental.
Note this is probably the first time Aziraphale has called Crowley his friend, seeing how uncertain and doubtful he was to even say the word in this scene and how quick he was to deny their friendship in the Shakespeare scene. And the camera immediately cuts from Crowley to Aziraphale, who is turned away, whose back is turned to Crowley oh so casually without a care in the world. Just before he calls him his friend. His back is turned, and so is the dark part of his vest.
The dark part he only shows in his bookshop, when he's alone and there's no one there. The part that he now only shows to Crowley as well. Crowley who knows him so well and who's been with him through everything. "I won't tell anyone if you won't." And "you said trust me""and you did". Just this small motion of Aziraphale depicts exactly how much trust he has in Crowley not only that he'll keep him safe and protected but to accept him just as he is, to not judge him, to not demean him for his imperfections as an angel. Practically mirroring Crowley's self-protection mechanism that is reflected in his motions to hide his eyes with his sunglasses (there's a wonderful meta on this by @simply-brightly-zee here )
And it might just be clothing, or it might just be genius symbolism, but note how self-aware Aziraphale is of his looks when Gabriel pops up.
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The desire to impress is almost unconscious in this scene, and how does he go about doing it? By making sure he looks presentable. Presentable, despite the white patches and the vest that is falling apart, he doesn't even realise it. Therefore, it's clear Aziraphale puts thought into his clothes, whether consciously or unconsciously.
I personally dont think any of this (the coat, the patches, the way he turns his back, when, where and around who he's most comfortable) is a deliberate and intentional act on Aziraphales part but rather creative brilliance from the directors and producers. So him being shown to expose the back of the vest only in scenes with Crowley (and the one in s2 infront of an amnesiac Gabriel with the intelligence and awareness of a squirrel) is a master move on the costume department's part. The symbolusm being so small and imperceptible, but holding so much meaning. This small metaphor shows how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how comfortable he is around him. Crowley who knows about Aziraphale's transgressions, sins, unholy behaviours, lack of interest and dedication to his job, and overall "incompetence" as Aziraphale might put it and how he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing". Crowley, who will accept him and love him no matter what. Not despite those things, but because of those things.
They have found their "own side".
Edit: Not that important, but I just want to mention how, despite being tattered and falling apart, the vest is still in perfectly good condition. No matter the white seeping in and draining its colour, the vest doesn't have a single seam torn, not a button lost, perfect as the day it was bought. No matter what it's been put through, it's still kicking, whether by miracle or sheer willpower. Very much like the person wearing it.
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cuddlytogas · 16 days
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So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.
See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.
But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...
What is the difference between this and this?
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Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?
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Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.
But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.
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And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.
But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.
See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!
As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.
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And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:
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So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?
Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.
In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.
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In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.
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This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).
Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.
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More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.
This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.
A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.
But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.
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ellmeria · 2 months
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Quick Astro Notes 🍄
— The following are just a few things I've noticed about certain placements (mostly sun). These are mainly based on my experience and observations!
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I will always trust a Libra's judgment. I know they can be indecisive, but that's because they see both sides of the matter. They weigh all the pros and cons of things (they're about balance), so when they finally come to a decision, you know it's for the best.
A Taurus Venus can be obsessed with jewelry. They may not be a fan of buying costume jewelry because they care about quality and longevity. They're the type of people who inspect every nook and cranny of an item before buying it to ensure it is worth their money. They also tend to reward themselves every once in a while and encourage others to do the same! 
A lot of Virgos I know have such a way with words. I love reading notes/messages from them because they are usually well-written and full of substance.
People with Mercury in Aries are never stupid. I know that sometimes they can be loud, and confrontational and hot-headed, a bit insensitive. I get it. I somehow agree based on experience. But stupid? Nope. These people are fast learners, have amazing wit/humor, can explain even the most complicated topics with conciseness and brevity, and are just so quick and good with comebacks. Their brain (and mouth) works so fast that it becomes a double-edged sword.
Leos are magnificient. I have never seen one who's lacking in the appeal department. They know how to dress and carry themselves. I also love their eyes! It's piercing and gives very similar vibes to their animal representation (lion).
I think the 3rd House may also indicate how a person walk. This is because 3rd House rules short travels, and usually, we travel short distances on foot.
Ex: Aquarius risings may walk so fast due to Aries in their 3rd house. On the other hand, those who have Venus/Taurus in their 3rd house may walk slowly.
Capricorn placements are so attractive when they're in their leader mode. They take leadership positions so seriously that even though someone with this placement doesn't have prior experience with it, they still manage to get things done (and do well!). I noticed this with all the cardinal signs, but most commonly with Capricorns.
Cardinal (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) and fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) always take the initiative. That one classmate who often starts the conversation about the group activity and instigates the planning? I bet they have these signs in their chart.
Every Sagittarius needs a travel buddy, AKA their Gemini friend. They have food to try and places to be.
I have never met a Pisces who does not know how to crochet or is not interested in learning the skill. They really are so creative with their hands and have an eye for beauty!
Most Sagittariuses I know have a healthy work-life balance. They know how to let loose and have fun while maintaining their 0 missed deadlines status. I am listening and taking notes.
People with many planets in the 1st House can be more assertive, have 'louder' verbal and nonverbal expressions (gestures, tones, etc.), and expressing themselves comes naturally to them. Meanwhile, those with planets in the 12th House may be more docile with their approach and have more tamed gestures and expressions.
Pictures were taken from Pinterest. Credit to the rightful owner/s.
♡ 𝓡𝓲𝓪
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jjungxkook · 5 months
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blackout (halloween drabble) | jjk
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⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader
⇥ genre: est rel, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut
⇥ rating: 18+
⇥ warnings: really just the tiniest hint of angst, but otherwise just crack and fluff I think, spooky szn, he's the Joker and she's Harley Quinn, lame college party, the gang is there, forest stuff, reader is a bit sad and disappointed in jk but he redeems himself!, kissing, sexy times, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, jerking off, fingering, sex in a janitor's closet haha, ass love, and yeah!!
⇥ wc: 5.4k!
⇥ author’s notes: happy early halloween! I will be busy next week, so I thought I could post this one already. also, since it's been one! damn!! year!!! since I dropped anything at all (sry!!). I promise Encore is on its way, so enjoy this in the meantime. very unedited and I started it just yesterday, so pls no hate haha okay that's it!! love you!!!
⇥ summary: Jungkook and you seek a carefree and calm Halloween this year, until it turns into this… nightmare.
Jungkook’s make up is smudged beyond repair… And you strongly guess you aren’t faring any better.
Your costumes are basic to their core. In the past hour alone, you’ve seen half a dozen of you. Jungkook rubs at the eyeshadow above the apple of his cheek, smearing the black some more.
He looks like the Joker at the end of his mental capacity. A worse mess than DC’s character already is. Only, Jungkook is still rocking the look – one damn kink of yours if you had a specific one. It’s the loosened tie… the purple coat–
You feel at home in your own role. Sporting the peroxide blonde hair, tied in two tails, one ending in a faded blue, and the other in a dim pink. You purchased colored hair sprays just for today, but can’t wait to wash the chemicals out of your hair.
Jungkook ruined one of the pigtails approximately an hour ago, and it hasn’t recovered since then, no matter how hard you tried to fix it. In truth, you didn’t mind the tugging at that moment anyway.
How could you? Not with the endorphins pumping through you at lightspeed, enhanced by the darkness around you at that stupid college party.
The student representatives organized this year’s big fete, though they must have forgotten to add the fun factor to it. Because the party was lame: the bar was filled with students from various departments, but most of them remained either sober or wound up broke.
Because the drinks were painfully expensive. The numbers on your bills spooked through your mind when you looked at the price, further frustrated when you realized that they weren’t selling much more than dry, small pizza and flavorless toast.
Once again, for an outrageous price.
Halfway through, the two of you snuck to a bathroom, relying on each other’s company alone. But the toilet cabinets were either taken or unspeakably disgusting – so in the rush, you settled for the pitch dark janitor’s closet instead.
You could barely see his silhouette in there, half sober, but not quite acting like it. Intoxicated by how he suckled on your neck, more a vampire than the Joker. Or by how he probably bruised your thighs, your shorts and tights down to your knees, much like his green pants.
You remember the whispers in the dark. The quiet “Wanna pound you into the mattress” and the “We should really go home.” Accompanied by the way he rubbed his cock against your stomach, body inches from you as his fingers dug into your pussy.
But you wouldn’t make it home yet, because his movements were too rapid to stop. The tears pricking your eyes too prominent. The hand around your neck wouldn’t stop pressing in, and you were firmly fixated on jerking him off to the end.
There was no way you were going to go home yet.
When he kissed you, you could taste both your lipsticks on your tongues. And then, cheek against the wall, ass out as he slammed his thick cock into your tight space, you tasted all the spice and sweetness he could offer.
God, a fucking man starved.
You still feel how his thighs held yours together, and your ass cheeks still burn from the palm and nails scratching, slapping, squeezing the flesh…
You tried your best to fix your make up afterwards, but you looked like modern art in the worst way, eyeliner and mascara dry on your face. The Joker’s cheek scars reach to his ears now. And as you look at him now, you still shiver.
His sweat-soaked mane hasn’t fully dried yet, a bit longer than weeks ago. Gives him that wet-hair look you usually enjoy after his showers. And behind the collar of his dress shirt, you still catch a glimpse of the lipstick print he wanted before you went out.
“Here,” he’d said, pointing to his thick, bare neck, adorned by a vein, “I’ll even open a button of my shirt just for this.”
And you were absolutely ready to mark your territory – it seemed he was just as enthusiastic about it. That is, before you forgot and then rectified your mistake in that bar bathroom. He can flex it now after all…
Anyway. Where were you again?
Right. The purple coat.
There’s something incredibly insane about how he’s draped it over his shoulder, both hands in the pockets of his pants. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his arms veiny and strong. A full lower lip is light red now; your make out session made the bright red fade.
And the goddamn black around his eyes… he could throw the mildest statement at you, and you’d probably still be intimidated.
Could almost distract you from why you refused to give that neck kiss in the first place. Or why you were veiling your true mood.
“What are we gonna do now?” Jungkook asks, nudging your elbow.
“What do you mean? You’re not tired?”
But you understand the idiocy of your question the moment it tumbles out – you’re asking the wrong man. This guy, you have well noticed, does not sleep until late in the night. And a healthy sleep schedule becomes even more of a foreign concept on holidays.
So you’re not surprised when he blows a raspberry and almost mockingly responds, “It’s not even midnight.”
“That’s late, Jungkook,” you still try.
“Not on Halloween.” Yeah. Just what you thought. “Besides, we need to wait for the witching hour. Wanna see the ghosts come out and whatnot.”
You laugh, the scolding hidden behind the smile. “Kook…”
“We could play Uno again!” He suggests, but you instantly scrunch up your nose. Most of the time, he wins – it’s probably why he enjoys it so much. But his next idea is worse. “Or Until Dawn.”
“No way,” you shoot. “You know what’s gonna happen, right?”
Judging the conniving smirk, more daunting with the eerie make up on, you guess he knows very well. He must remember last Halloween as well as you do.
Back when you let him convince you into watching Silent Hill with him, you were already at the edge, but – the sudden knocks at your door and impatient ringing of your bell didn’t help.
You jumped in place, accidentally kicking his shin and nearly knocking over the popcorn. You shed an immediate tear, convinced your heart was going to give out. Jungkook, between the cries of ache, was chuckling, and soon holding your head to his heart.
The cursing against his chest is cemented in your mind; you remember that he turned the movie off for you and switched to something tamer on Disney+.
“We’re together now, Pumpkin,” he tries to argue. “I’ll kiss your fears away.”
You’ll admit, you like the tone of it. It hasn’t been very long, so any term concerning your togetherness covers your skin in chills. And considering how it’s Halloween, the nickname gains just a bit more warmth, too.
But you stay resolute, dodging his constant nudging as you repeat, “No way!”
Your words stop Jungkook in his tracks. The laugh disappears and even his eyes change. Maybe you came off too strong, because behind the mask of the Joker, he looks insecure and taken aback.
“Are you… Okay?”
“Yeah,” you answer.
You pull down the crop top under your open jacket, clearing your throat when the movement forces his eyes to your chest, right where the shirt stretches over your tits. Folding your arms in front of your torso, you raise your chin in the confidence that’s barely there.
You lie, “Yes. Why?”
“You’re acting like you were before we left. Then you were okay at the party.” He points into a random direction, presumably the one you came from. You don’t know how many turns you took since then, but you’re near the woods now. “Now you’re not anymore again.”
“I’m fine!”
Oops. Too strong again. Maybe the built up frustration and disappointment aren’t gone after all. You thought the evening might change something – apparently not.
Once again, he asks, “Are you sure?”
You stay silent. Look away, haphazardly across the street. The street lamps illuminate the dark path, covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Has a real Halloween feel to it.
You watch ghosts stroll past you. Some of the students on campus still carry a young, tender spirit, cutting holes in thin blankets to drape them over their bodies. It makes you smile.
But then you look back at Jungkook and immediately wish you had a cloth hiding your true emotions, too. Because when his eyes pierce those dejected holes into your body, you finally cave in.
“You… you know that I was top of my class, right?” You avert your stare, but then decide to focus on his chin instead. “Mr Kim liked my paper so much that he even offered that I join his research? And he’s like, very cherished in the Sociology community?”
Aside from the wind, nature and the world go quiet for a second, just when you do, but then you say, “So it’s a huge opportuni–”
“I know… You told me.”
Oh. So he remembers.
“So I told you,” your voice is quieter now, “and you just… didn’t seem to care? You haven’t spoken about it or asked even once. Not even what the research is on.”
Like a parrot, he repeats, “I know. I… I got busy with my own exams and…”
He stops midway and you wait. Maybe there’s more to come… Or maybe not. He doesn’t budge. You feel your heart drop… You assumed he had forgotten or that you might’ve hallucinated telling him about it. 
But the fact that he remembers, yet doesn’t have it in him to care hurts.
You swallow hard and then sigh, unable to say much more than you already have. He, yet again, purls, “I’m sorry.”
How shitty.
You’ve always helped him with his assignment, each time he needed any aid. He reciprocated it, no doubt, but. Now that you think about it, he distanced himself the moment you got this news and forwarded it to him.
You feel horrible. If you physically could, if you weren’t frozen in place, you’d pour out your heart to him. But all you know is that your mood has dropped to the Earth’s core, your mouth barely open when–
A rough tug pulls you away from Jungkook’s body. You stumble, almost tripping over your own feet, and yelp. There’s no way to still catch your bag mid-air, because whatever culprit snatched it off your shoulder, is already running away.
And into the dense forest. Fuck.
You use all your throat’s might to scream your lungs out, screeching at the perpetrator, “What the fuck!!”
“Hey!” Jungkook yells in kind, following right behind you the moment you start to sprint.
The asphalt is easier to tackle than the forest, though. The ground is soft, still a little damp from the rain of the last days. And the white-black-red Harley Quinn boots with their thick heels do not help.
You chase the figure – he’s tall, a bit too fast for you. Wearing a mask that you’re sure was… green?
You swear and pant when he picks up on pace, and throw more insults into his direction when he takes a sharp, sudden right. Jungkook jogs past you when you look over your shoulder for him, instructing quickly, “I’ll trap him from the left!”
And then, he’s gone. No. What?
“No, I– you can’t leave me alone!” Nothing comes back. Shit, your boyfriend wants you dead. “Fuck.”
With a shake of your head and a deep inhale of a breath, you move. Perhaps you’re too late, because by now, you don’t hear any steps anymore. You don’t know how far behind that thief left you, but as you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, you halt.
You can’t see anyone anymore. Not the guy. Not Jungkook.
And it’s so uncannily quiet. Dark. The leaves rustle, but only when the breeze blows through them. You search the spot, but there’s truly nobody and nothing; not even a goddamn squirrel.
You call for Jungkook, but don’t receive an answer back.
Where did he go? Did he catch the jerk? It must’ve been a Shrek mask. Of all fucking things. And why do they always run into a forest anyway?
No matter. At least you’ll be able to describe him to the police.
You suck in a breath, leaning down, hands over your knees. Out of air, you groan as your lungs burn. But then you get up, swallowing and sniffling, scared as you whisper to yourself, “The phone…”
You fish it out of your shorts – Hallelujah to whoever created this costume, because they’re a whole lot better than the pocketless jeans in your closet. If you’d put the device in your bag, you’d be screwed properly.
Activating the flashlight, you turn in a slow circle. In the silence, only broken by grasshoppers and other chirping animals, you hear your heart pounding in your ears. A shaking hand holds your phone as you look around.
And right when you’re already through the 360 turn–
Fingers wrap around the hand clutching the phone, definitely not yours. There’s a call of your name, but you barely take the voice in, flinching and screaming in place. Has your voice ever sounded this high pitched?
Ready to throw your phone at him and roundhouse kick the stranger, you lift a leg, but he immediately grabs your wrist in a familiar gesture. Turns the light to his face, squinting at its intensity, and eventually, you realize that…
“What the fuck are you doing?” You spit.
“I was looking for you!” Jungkook answers, lowering the phone. “I didn’t find him.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either! But fuck, why…” You still can’t breathe properly. A hand moves to your chest. “Why did you scare me so much, I–”
Your limbs are trembling, knees attempting to force you down to the ground. But you hold yourself steady, anger growing bloody red inside you. It bubbles and simmers, and when he doesn’t respond, you almost snarl.
You push at his chest, eyes damp. You want to throw more shit at him, even though he’s not at fault – and once you realize, you calm down just a little. The forest is still around you, and you’re still not out of it by far.
Yet, you feel at ease. Because he’s here. Because he’s standing there, in the middle of the night, at fucking Halloween where you could run into any insane axe murderer.
But when you understand where the comfort is coming from, your heart slows down, still beating in your stomach, but at a more normal pace now.
“Fuck,” you whisper once again, and then stumble forward and into his arms.
He cradles you with the fragility of a glass doll. But the squeezes he provides offer warmth your chilled soul craves on this autumn night. Hushed, you hear him speak, “Baby, I…”
His words drip with hesitation and… guilt even. Wrong timing; you can’t dwell on the uncertainty now. Still sniffling, quivering, you press against his chest again. Softer this time, yet unyielding, you demand, “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
“No–”
“Honestly, I should’ve just… Congratulated you.”
Wrong timing indeed. He’s agonizing over something that you aren’t bothered with. Not right now, at least. But you heard it so clearly in the timbre of his voice – that he didn’t mean the jump scare. You let him continue.
“I worked so hard on my stuff, too, and then got jealous. Which is absolutely not a good boyfriend treat to have.”
“Kook–”
There’s turmoil in his words. Ugh, what’s going on?
“I’m genuinely thrilled for you. And I–”
There’s an entire conversation to have, you’re sure. But the timing. The fucking timing!
He wants to unveil more, but then something happens. A flicker in your peripheral vision alerts you of a movement, and when you turn your head, you see the same mysterious figure lurking in the shadows.
God, he’s insane. Your guts twist.
Was he eavesdropping all along, or was he simply hiding, trying to remain invisible, inexplicably unwilling to flee? Why did he not run before? This is odd. So chillingly odd.
Or maybe he was still nearby and trying not to make a sound…
You don’t know. And time is not a luxury you can’t afford for pondering such enigmas right now.
New adrenaline surges through you, different this time. The fear is clear, but the guy seems pathetic to a certain level – and if he’s so keen on roaming around, you’ll make sure he stays right in your proximity.
So you listen to the hammering of your heart, and without a second thought, you dash towards the stranger who appears equally startled and disoriented. You feel like a charging bull, closing the distance at an astonishing pace.
That’s what they probably mean when they speak about mothers being able to lift cars for their kids, because you feel invincible. Your shoes may not be designed for such a pursuit, and you’re certainly not as hardcore as Harley Quinn, but they lose against your determination.
The trees blur around you as you relentlessly chase the intruder, only clearing in your vision when you finally catch up with him. Jungkook might be behind you, but you choose not to look behind you this time.
Instead, you yell a battle cry, growling through your teeth, “Don’t you fucking–”
But that’s all before you tackle him to the ground. You expect a fight, expect his slim limbs to fling around, but he barely moves. He lets you push him onto the fallen leaves, and the only glimpse of any sound by him that you catch is a weird voice crack.
“Fu–” Is all you notice, but you can’t analyze the voice before Jungkook is helping you up again. 
You protest, but still get to your feet, watching Jungkook pull the man up harshly. He says to you, “You caught him.”
“Guess so.”
You take another breath, jaw clenched when you move to the stumbling thief and attempt to take the mask off. Shrek, as you said. You can’t quite say whether that night is terrifying or absurd. Probably both.
But the guy fights your try, suddenly mute again, but not resisting when Jungkook pulls at his arm and starts leading him somewhere. What? 
“Where are you going?” You ask, confusion sitting in the valley between your eyebrows. “Let’s go back and call the police, Jungkook.”
“There’s gotta be an opening. Keep going, I just need light to see his face.”
“I have a phone. Jungkook, sto–”
Seems like a very risky moment to ignore you, but Jungkook moves forward with determination. But it’s strange how he isn’t looking around. Never searching his surroundings, as if he already has a certain target in mind.
Now, you’ll admit that his sense of direction is unerring on any other day, too, but this is…
“I swear, you’re gonna kill us both,” you hiss, reflexively lowering your voice in the darkness. The masked mugger is grunting too much to hear you anyway, but you guess that affects Jungkook’s senses, too.
He just won’t stop. At least, until you reach a tiny clearing.
You don’t know how deep in the forest you are, because you can’t see the moon from here. The stars are the mere source of light here, albeit barely enough to illuminate the other bodies standing on the opposite side of the dimly lit space.
Wait. More people? Here?
What the hell.
Their faces, obscured by shadows, are unmoving. You ready yourself for an apology – maybe you interrupted some weird get-together. A shady ritual executed by some secret college club.
But as you strain to discern their features, a gradual realization dawns upon you. One of them steps forward, his features partially hidden, and one or two other familiar friends from your classes occupy the periphery.
It’s Jin. Also Jimin – a guy you and Jungkook met during one of your study sessions. Taehyung introduced him to your group. And the pursuit takes on an even more bewildering turn when you look at Jungkook and see that he’s no longer clutching the robber.
The man is standing there in silence, massaging the back of his head. Seemingly unperturbed. Perplexed and still out of breath, you utter, “What in the world?”
You shake your head, eyes deeply furrowed. You close the distance between you and the confusing figure, snatch your bag from him and finally shed the mask that conceals his identity.
And then, you see it. The unexpected face behind the bizarre charade.
“Taehyung?” You exclaim.
Jungkook, having caught his breath faster than you, mimics your incredulous tone, “Taehyung, what the hell?”
Oh. So he’s just as confused. The man in question glances over to his friend, his expression one of sheer frustration as he grumbles another very puzzling statement.
“Jeon, I will kill you.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters back.
Or… not? Huh?
You’re speechless. Out of movements and words, you keep your feet planted on your spot, blinking as you wait for someone to explain. But they’re not even looking at you, so you seek clear clarification.
“What’s going on here?” You ask.
Jungkook’s half-smile agitates you more than it should. Why the heck is he smiling?! But you breathe in through the nose, hoping for the forest’s scent to calm your nerves.
“Well,” he admits, “I guess I owe him one. ‘Cuz you were not supposed to tackle him.”
“Right!” Taehyung concurs.
“And you were not supposed to disappear!” Jungkook chimes in, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. His voice is tinged with reproach. “You…”
“Guys,” you interject. What the fuck.
Jungkook sighs, full attention on you. You try your hardest to not look at the creepy crowd to your left, friends and acquaintances standing there as if they’re about to sacrifice you to a demon.
“He was supposed to lead you here, but somehow we didn’t manage to pull it through,” Jungkook says.
His words leave you pondering. You have not the darndest clue about what’s going on. So you ask, “We?”
“Your…” The assembled group draws near, a few of your friends holding various items. “Your paper.”
Huh…
They’re carrying indiscernible things. And a pie, and…
“Of course I remembered your paper, baby,” Jungkook declares.
Oh, wait. Is that what you think it is? Because if it is, then your instincts were entirely wrong today. Or the entire time since you received the news. Maybe you were just so out of your mind because of the general Halloween atmosphere?
What were you expecting… An axe murderer for real? Dammit…
No. It was much more obvious, yet impossible to figure out. This man. This man!
A wave of relief washes over you as you process his words. You think that now, you even understand what they’re all holding. Or what it’s for…
“So you weren’t…” You start.
You drift off, watching Jungkook shake his head. His response is heartfelt, his love and pride evident. He looks at you with infinite sweetness; but a lot of guilt, too.
“Jealous?” He finishes. “I’d be crazy to be. You’re part of me.”
His blinking is soft and the tongue licking his red lips shiny in the extremely faint starlight. You know he isn’t done yet, so you wait… Focus on the tingle on your skin.
“You are part of me,” he says again, “so I’ll celebrate any achievement of yours like it’s mine. And this was… is a huge fucking thing to happen for you.”
You feel your head tilt and the muscles in your face relax. Your lips move to a smile, parted to give way to the longest sigh known to humankind. But if you indulged in the cheesy interaction now, your friends would remind you of it every game night.
Which is why you get yourself together, postponing the screeching and second tackling to later when you’re alone again. You shake off some of the weakness he causes every day, and give into the urge to nudge teasingly.
“You’re such a jerk for scaring me like that.”
A playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, as typical as can be. “I needed to make it Halloween-themed, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, but you know I had to.”
Your initial scolding turns into a loving retort, “I hate you.”
But the banter is short-lived as you lose against the surge of emotions, your hand moving to push him lightly once again before immediately lifting to his collar. You capture it, pulling him close to you until his wide eyes close and your lips collide.
In the background, you hear an instant chorus of “Aww”s, but grunts, too. Among the cooing, you hear a mumbled speech about how you need to get a room, but you only react with a smile against his mouth. You kiss him deeper, tongues gently intermingling.
And just when the hand holding the back of your head slips to your lower back, pressing you into him, the shiver becomes unbearable. Emotions shoot through your body and down between your legs – so you stop.
For a couple seconds longer, you look at whatever you can see from his eyes in the dark, flashing a smile. He rounds his lips and releases air through them, a temptingly silent way to let you know that you affected him.
You ignore it for your mentality’s sake, moving away from him to look at your friends. You cough and gesture to the objects in their hands, asking, “What’s all this about?”
If you could see them, you’d probably see a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. Jin at least sounds like it as he beckons you closer with a nod, ready to reveal whatever they’ve orchestrated for you.
You already expected the answer to your question, but the wrapping confirms your assumption. Gifts. Quite a few of them, bigger and smaller. As you move from one to the other, they announce the objects before you’re able to rip the paper off.
A friend gifts you a Swarovski Crystalline pen for your “Super fancy notes as you do your super fancy research.” Reflects their support for your scholarly pursuits, you guess.
Jimin surprises you with an exclusive album by your favourite group. Then, a little plushie to destress whenever you need, along with a college survival guide and “Sociology for Dummies” – all by Jin. Of course.
And lastly, a Lord of the Rings Lego set that you’ve desired for super long, a group effort. It’s a labor of love, for sure. A collective endeavor by friends who united to make your dreams come true – but honestly, who scared you to death, too.
You don’t know how you make it out of the forest again, still reprimanding Taehyung and Jungkook on your way out. Granted, you did get lost as a group once, and then found your beloved streetlamps again ten minutes later.
The treasures secured in a bag, Jungkook places them on your couch with a long and deep sigh once you arrive home, calming down from today’s hours. The night seemed endless. Wouldn’t finish – and you’re exhausted beyond measure.
But even through your falling eyelids, you manage one more expressive glance, pure disbelief hiding in your gaze as you say, “I absolutely didn’t expect any of this.”
Jungkook is a true mirror to you. Equally worn out, he lets his head fall a little, one hand still in the pocket of his pants. He looks ridiculously attractive, fatigue or not. Curls of his longer hair hang in his eyes as he rubs them, the smile gentle despite the sinister make up.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, voice low and quiet. “To be honest, I kinda felt bad halfway through.”
Ah. Explains the guilty eyes and voice. The way he attempted to apologize and grew all shy and quiet before you threw Taehyung to the ground.
“Don’t. The plan almost worked, and my heartbeat is still intact.” You laugh, punching his arm lightly. “But… Don’t do shit like that again next year.”
“I can’t promise it. You know that.”
You roll your eyes, watching him try to walk away – and you might not have held him back and grasped the dress shirt at the elbow if…
Is that the window creaking?
You gasp, still more on the edge than you expected, and throw a peek over your shoulder. You moved a couple weeks ago – there’s no way your place is already making these sounds. Or maybe that’s the reason after all… You should get to renovating.
“Was that you, too?” You ask, leaning into him with a cocked eyebrow.
“It was not. How would I do that?” He promises. His words are accompanied by movements; he’s walking around the living room now, as if he’s looking for something. “I’m not a ghost. Just the Joker.”
“A sly one, though…”
You look to the window again as he crams around in the box under your table, and appropriate to the holiday, you detect a harmless raven, perched on the windowsill. The sight elicits a small chuckle – but you don’t hear a sound from Jungkook.
When you turn back to him, you understand why. He’s distracted, still crouching. Then he gets up with… An object in his hand. No, two. Not any you carried home just now, but much smaller, thinner. Paper?
Idly, he walks back to you, fingers adorned in tattooed letters holding two cards toward you. You look into his eyes, confused and seeking answers silently, but he only holds the objects closer to you, urging you to take them.
“What’s that?” You ask.
“Read, and you’ll know.”
And when you oblige, you understand. Maybe the little celebration on the clearing didn’t quite end there. Because the inscription on the cards reveals that he put more thought into this than you knew.
The tiny party and group effort Lego set weren’t his only tokens of affection. The weekend getaway, resting in your hands and awaiting you next week, must be tonight’s finale. A prelude to the impending wave of tedious work. 
“As an escape. Even for just a moment,” Jungkook explains, reaching forward. His hand settles on your cheek and pulls your face up, meeting your eyes. “Just you and me.”
To bask in serenity and rejuvenation, is that it? Just you and him…
“Really?” You wonder, eyes knitted together, lips pouting. You’re drowning in fondness.
“I wanna give you all the relaxation you need, in any way. Big things ahead after that.”
“I’m… You didn’t ha–”
You only get this far, because his lips steal your breath and halt your speech midway. His hand cradles your face, the other arm slinging around your body. The grip holds you tight against him, the heels of your feet almost lifting off the floor.
The kiss won’t stop. Continues deeper. You’re careful to not crumple and crease the cards he gave you, but still wrap your arms around his neck, pushing harder into him. And the tongue… Fuck, this tongue…
When he moves back reluctantly to catch air, he’s panting; and your breath falls against his cheeks just as hot. Your lips are damp, craving more, and you draw closer, trying to feel all of him. The muscles, the embrace, the growing pleasure behind his pants and…
But he lets go, leaves you standing and dizzy. With a wink, he lightly pinches your cheek, thumb brushing against it and suggests, “I’ll head off to freshen up.”
But. No.
You’re not ready to let the moment slip away, no matter how tired you are. So you pull him back again, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you quietly utter a request.
“Don’t take it off just yet.” You say, seeing the way his eyes light up. He understands right away. “Clean up together?”
He smiles. Waits with his answer, busy gripping your wrist as gently as he can before he locks his fingers with yours. He starts pulling you into the direction of the bathroom at snail's pace, reaching to hold both your hands, walking backwards, and causes one last hour-long shiver for the night.
“I really do love every time we save up on water, you know?”
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Let me know what you think!! Have a good Halloween, love you all and smooching you!!😘
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kiss-me-muchoo · 2 months
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𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 || 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ have you seen the MV of wildest dreams? If not… you play the romantic interest of Enzo’s character in a movie and the sparks begin behind cameras too. But he turns you down and finally sees you years after that, realizing he missed you and now he’s jealous.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠_ age gap, angst, fluff, Enzo is a little bit of an asshole, Enzo’s ex is NOT specified, okay? Definitely not trying to imply anything by that, Spanglish, ANGST AGAIN. We have a Mexican carne asada here y soporten. BIEN CRINGE ESTA MADRE
𝐀/𝐍_ people from Uruguay and Argentina can correct me all they want about the accent, please start listening Cedar, then Widest Dreams for this… BOTH SONGS IN MY PLAYLIST FOR ENZO.
♪ ♫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟒 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 ✰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 (+fics here)
_________________________
Your character was close to his. They were lovers. So you had to spend a fair amount of time with him consequently. Enzo was a humble and kind man. He was so random and yet so peaceful. Which facilitated the connection.
In the beginning, you thought it was weird that the production of The Society of the Snow had decided to keep more than 50% of the cast for a short film that would promote the movie and create speculation. You didn’t say no because it meant flying to the shores of Spain and enjoying more time with the boys.
So you give in, you take the director’s advice to stick to Enzo and build a connection.
He’s older than you, more mature, more experienced in many ways, but yet you seem to be able to make him laugh.
“Tenés que estar bromeando,” he says laughing.
“No es joda, de verdad me multaron y se hizo un desmadre” you explain giggling, drinking at your water bottle.
Both of you are having a little moment on the beach. It was warm, and it was a free day. The rest of the boys decided to spend the afternoon playing video games and you were not willing to melt watching a TV.
“Recuérdame jamás salir con vos” you roll your eyes.
“Ay vete a la verga, todos saben que soy el alma de las reuniones y fiestas” he shrugged, eating from his sandwich and smiling.
“Si, tenés razón quizá”
“¿Quizá? No, no mientas, Enzo” finally, he laughs loudly.
“Bueno está bien, lo acepto”
“Así me gusta, obediente, mi niño” he blushed. And it made you blush too.
The sound of the waves swiftly colliding makes you feel at peace. It’s been great so far. Filming an action short film, playing the damsel in danger who turns out to be the villain, and having lots of fun with your workmates.
“¿No extrañas tu hogar?” he asks, and you sigh, looking at the sea.
“Trato de no pensar en eso. Dependo mucho de casa, de mi familia. Me cuesta el cambio, pero me adapto rápido” he nods, smiling, and you hate to admit you like how good he looks with his hair slightly shorter.
“Eso es bueno… adaptarse. Aunque cueste… creo que al final es bonito el cambio” you start laughing. Because you remember his Instagram captions and the pauses he always wrote. But he’s think that you are also very pretty, not only the change he mentioned before.
“Si, es bonito el cambio” You keep laughing, and he shouldn’t be smiling so much at you. But you were so funny, you always had something to share and talk about. Enzo was very close about sharing things about him. But with you, he could make an excuse.
So you also stare at him, and you feel your heart start beating faster.
You can’t fall in love with him. But you’re miserably failing.
You look at yourself in the mirror. Your character had a disguise moment, where she had to pretend to be a dancer to get information. So there you are in a bejeweled attire with feathers.
“No mames, qué buena me veo,” you say laughing. Loving how your waist looks and how your hair looks so fluffy. The costume department did an outstanding job of making you look hot
“Como que si… ¿eh?” The annoying twink of Juani had to be there.
“Ponme la de perdió este culo de la Bad Gyal, por favor” Juani starts cackling, already filming you for some random tweet.
“Pero si vos tuviste un ex hace siglos, ya no queda” you roll your eyes, checking on the glitter decorating your eyes.
“Ay, pero no por eso, Juani. Nomás por mamona lo digo” There’s a knock on the door and you turn to see who’s standing there.
“¿Y esa diosa?” You blush, smiling at Fran being the person who knocked at the door before.
“¿Dónde que no la veo?” Of course, Juani had to be an idiot and ruin the moment, but soon he blows you a kiss.
“No es cierto, linda” You roll your eyes and turn back to see Fran giggling. You give him a sweet smile and scratch the back of your neck. He helps you get your robe so you won’t have to cross the whole building with your exhibitionist outfit.
“Tenés escena conmigo” Fran says offering you his arm, which you gladly take.
“Adiós, naco perdedor,” you say to Juani, who starts laughing loudly. As you start walking with Fran across the hallways of the building, you start feeling your heart beat faster. You were going to have a heated scene with Enzo, which made you cringe a lot. First, you appear with Fran’s character in the club which ends with your character tangling up with Enzo.
“¿Nerviosa?” You shake your head, sighing.
“I don’t know…Digo, no lo sé” he nods, as you two walk out of the building to get going towards the set. The shores of Spain were beautiful, Cádiz was warm and it suited your overwhelmed mood.
“Va a estar bien. Que igual si no, nos vamos a dar la vuelta en la noche” that immediately makes you smile. You nod, hugging him.
“Eso me encantaría mucho, Fran” You are on set now. There’s no way back, and when you turn back, you see Enzo, and he’s already looking at you.
You blush, and offer him a little smile before turning away so rapidly. The whole action is watched by Fran and he has his own opinion.
“Has pasado mucho tiempo con Enzo…¿No crees?” You shrug, greeting the makeup staff who are going to retouch your look.
“Teníamos que conocernos a fondo para que esto resultara” he nods again.
“Creo que si se ha dado lo de la conexión” it was weird, because you knew it was true. you had developed a special connection with Enzo. Hours spent talking and having long walks across the beach. The days you decided to cook for the boys and he always was the first to arrive and try to help you set up everything.
“Si se diera la oportunidad… ¿Te quedarías con él?” His question makes you wonder. It took you aback, and while you have full trust in Fran, you don’t know what to answer.
Well, you do know what to answer… but you are afraid to admit it.
“Si… aveces siento que si es con él, Fran. Me hace muy feliz… pero, no creo que Enzo sienta lo mismo” you confess. He smiles, taking your hand.
“Tenés que decirle. Se llevan un par de años, pero… se ven tan bien juntos” he says looking at Enzo.
“De verdad… ¿Tú crees?”
“Es que ve cómo te mira, y/n” In disguise, you turn to your side, and you confirm Enzo is still looking at you.
“Decíle… anda” you smile, a warm feeling growing in your heart. You feel loved, you feel like it might be meant to be. So you plan something.
“Hay que hacer una carnita asada” Fran laughs.
“Pero vos le pones mucho al asado. Jamás había visto uno así” you laugh. Since your type of asado was a northern Mexican carne asada. They all believed it was a great change of style of cooking.
“No lo niegues, Fran. Mi asado es grandioso” he tries to deny it but at the end, he smiles nodding.
“Ey… ¿estás lista, linda?” Enzo asks, appearing with a gorgeous smile. He was wearing a dark suit, his hair looked amazing, very hot.
“Creo que si…” you let him know. After some brief exchange of words with the production, you take your position along with Fran to start filming. And you never miss the way Enzo was looking at you.
Maybe he felt the same.
You started the carne asada before taking a shower and getting ready. Now, everything was ready. The big patio that connected the apartment complex was decorated with a table that Juani and Matias helped you set, with chips, salsas, guacamole, beans, and agua de tamarindo that you had to mix with some alcohol.
Everyone is having fun, and you have helped to serve the food to everyone with Blas. It seemed to be going well, you have a sundress and sneakers on the feeling of the alcohol has you tipsy and you can’t wait to make yourself some tacos with the asado.
You feel someone hug you from behind, and when you turn back, you end up caged around Enzo’s arms.
“Hey… you made it!” You cheer after seeing him, trying to ignore the blush on your cheeks. You hoped nobody had seen the interaction. Or else they would start with cheesy rumors.
“No me lo perdería” you smile, offering him a glass of agua de tamarindo.
“Hice verduras asadas y queso fundido para ti” he wanted to hug you so tightly again after hearing you say that. You had thought about him and cooked specifically for him. Enzo had been in some dilemma, where he questioned if you could be the one. Although, he still had many obstacles to get to you. And he didn’t know yet that those obstacles would draw him apart from you.
“Ehh.. y/n linda, ¿hay más mas cubiertos?” Agustin asks you suddenly.
“Creo que hay servilletas y popotes en el cuarto de lavar. Voy a ver” you say laughing.
“Te acompaño…” says Enzo, which makes you blush again.
“Gracias…”
Both of you walk inside the building, and the laundry room is very near, so in less than a minute he opens the door to let you in. With the distance, you finally are able to distinguish the song playing on the patio. You hum along trátame suavemente playing in the background.
No quiero soñar mil veces las mismas cosas
Ni contemplarlas sabiamente
Quiero que me trates suavemente
Enzo can’t help but think you look so adorable. He remembers the way he had to touch you for the scene earlier. Half of him hated himself for feeling that way about you, and the other half questioned if it could possibly be correct.
“Enzo… no alcanzo las servilletas” When he turns back, he sees you trying to climb the washing machine to open the drawers.
“Así no, chiquita.” He laughs and stops you, making you sit on top of the washing machine while he grabs the bag with napkins and straws inside.
“Ay, si… humillame pues” you complain crossing your arms. He drops de bag beside you, and then gives you a silly smirk, which makes you laugh.
“Nada de eso, sis vos sos bien linda así” You cross your arms, avoiding his eyes. This was the closest you’d been around him. It feels alright like having him close to you was normal. Making you realize, you could get used to his aura being so damn close to you.
I like him…
“¿Tú crees?” You let yourself play a little dumb, pretending innocence. And you have the excuse of being under the effects of alcohol.
Te comportas de acuerdo
Con lo que te dicta, cada momento
Y esta inconstancia, no es algo heroico
Es más bien algo enfermo…
you keep humming the song as you try to keep the conversation normal with the man.
“Si… muy linda vos” The outrageous side of you let your arms get tangled around his neck. And it caught him by surprise but he let himself feel the moment. He shyly placed his hands on your hips, and you squirmed.
“¿Qué estamos haciendo?” He asks, accepting that he was getting lost in your eyes.
“No sé” you admit, feeling how his chest was touching yours.
“Bésame, Enzo…” you close your eyes, and seconds later, you know he’s kissing you. Your fingers trace his hair and it’s so soft that it makes him groan in pleasure.
You let his hands caress the plush skin of your hips and legs as you keep pushing him towards you.
This is it, you are falling in love with him.
It’s one of the last days of filming, but for the past two weeks, you have been spending a sickening time with Enzo. He spent two nights with you, he even agreed to go out to the city just for you. You could say the feeling of falling in love was growing very rapidly.
He made you feel safe and every smile he offered was enough relief for your days. He held your hand once while walking through the crowded streets to not lose you and it felt right.
And you hadn’t seen him in two days because he had different scenes to film.
Until now, where your character holds hands with him as she confesses she’s the villain. You feel the air shift, you feel the distance he’s making and you wonder if it was because of the scene or if he was actually being cold to you. The setting is on one hill with a gorgeous sunset in the background, making the scene very dramatic and tragic for the romantic partners.
“Dime que me amas y me entregaré. Por favor…” your character says. Enzo looks at you, and the look he exchanges with you is sad, making you confused on camera.
“Yo te amo, pero sabes que no podemos estar juntos” his character had to say. And for some reason, you felt like Enzo was actually saying that to you.
“CORTE!” The director said. Everything keeps going on. But for you time stops. You look at him, hoping to find some sense of tranquility. That nothing had changed.
Slowly, Enzo dropped your hand and after a brief look… he walked away.
You spend the afternoon collecting shells. You are confused and slightly sad because filming is coming to an end. You don’t know if Enzo actually wanted to give it a try on distance. Because after the kiss on the carne asada, none of you had given status to the relationship.
But it’s not necessary to keep thinking about it, because you see him walking towards you, and your immediate reaction is to offer him a smile.
“Ey.. te perdiste todo el día” you try to sound calm.
“Estaba ocupado.” He says with both hands inside his hoodie. His hair looks disheveled and he seems tired.
“Entiendo…”
“Volví a hablar con ella” There’s no need to address it, you know who he meant, his ex-girlfriend. You don’t say a word, opting for hearing him before talking.
“Hablamos mucho. Quedamos de vernos cuando vuelva a Uruguay” you gulp, each word hurting you more.
“¿Entendés, verdad? Vos sos más joven que yo, somos de lados muy distintos… no iba a funcionar” your eyes get watered immediately. Rage invading you and sadness flooding you.
“Decí algo, por favor. No quiero lastimarte…” you laugh, shaking your head. There are some seconds of silence. You need to choose the right words.
“Alguna vez me miraste, sonreíste y pensaste que… tal vez, ¿tal vez pudo haber sido conmigo?” He sighs, looking away, at the sea.
The longer he remains quiet, the more you have the answer. He never felt the same as you, but he never tried to stop you either. He played along.
You just start walking away, hand on an extremely tight grip, the shells and sand irritating the skin on your palm.
“Nunca quise hacerte daño” he yells as you have walked a fair amount of steps away.
“Si nunca sentiste algo por mi, nunca debiste haberme dejado encariñarme contigo.” He lowers his gaze and you feel even more enraged.
“No puedes ni levantar la cabeza. Fucking shame on you…” you spit with disappointment.
“Y jamás debí haber aceptado conocerte tanto” you finally say. Walking away at once and fighting the tears as you try to pass the boys who are playing video games again.
“Ey… ¿estás bien?” Juani asks and you nod, but he follows and once his hand touches yours, you can’t help but collide on his chest, letting the tears fly away silently. Juani doesn’t say anything, not yet, he just hugs you tightly.
The next afternoon, Enzo goes to find you in your room, but he’s surprised by the fact that you’re gone.
“Filmó su última escena y se ha ido a casa” Santi told him.
“¿Cómo?” Enzo is in shock, he just sighs, closing his eyes.
“Se quiso ir antes…”
“Le dijo… muchas cosas a Juani y a Fran” Santi adds, and Enzo can tell what had happened. And of course, he accepted being guilty.
“Necesito hablar con ellos” and with that he lefts.
But the talk didn’t help a lot. He just realized you were gone by the time he was able to be alone in his room again. Enzo was confused and tired and he also just wanted to go home. But as he understands you’re gone and he won’t see you in a long time, he feels a little lost. And empty…
A lot of things change. You grow, you forget, you change. You go back to your normal life, college goes great, and everything is normal until it’s time to give a promotion to the movie and the short film. You kept a lot of contact with Fran, Juani, and Matias, but it won't be the same as if you didn't end up on good terms with Enzo.
About him, you learned he didn't make it with his ex-girlfriend. He was single and apparently good. You don’t hate him, but there’s a lot of resentment. And as the premiere was around the corner, rumors had appeared on the surface of social media. Rumors of you and Enzo, and all the drama. You didn't pay attention to those, but you were expecting at least one question regarding the issue in the upcoming interviews.
You were offered to be dressed by some perfect designer who had similar ideas to you. He made a silk dress in a champagne color for you. With tiny crystal beats and a gorgeous skirt. You loved the dress, it suited you so well too.
So at the beginning of the night, you don’t think about anything but making a good impression on the cameras. All that mattered was the promotion of the movie.
As soon as you arrive at the gala, you start shivering because of your nervousness about seeing your friends again. You were the last one to arrive so you weren’t able to greet them.
And that’s when you see Enzo. He seems fine, in a completely dark suit and his stupid perfect hair. When he finds your sweet eyes, his heart beats faster, you look so perfect. Your hair, your brows, your eyes, the pink lips, everything seemed to make you look so perfect. And he can tell you look older, your childish and plush cheeks are gone, and your short hair too. He remembers all the good memories he made with you and he feels sadness taking over. He missed you so bad after going back home. And he wasn’t able to hear anything from you because he didn’t dare to ask Juani or Fran for example.
“Te ves preciosa,” says Agustin hugging you. You smile at him and thank him. All the boys want to greet you and all is being recorded. The only one you don’t greet is Enzo, who stays afar posing for the cameras. Until most of the photographers keep asking to take a picture of you and the man who broke your heart.
“No te acerques si no querés” Juani advises you, whispering in your eye. You sigh, looking at how Enzo is getting closer.
“Creo que ya no tengo de otra…” you whisper back, pretending to have a big and honest smile on your face.
Enzo exchanged looks with you, and he was able to sense how awkward you were feeling, which didn’t soothe him. So he pretended to place his hand on your back but he never touched you, and you didn’t even glare at him a second the flash hit your face. You ignore the growing pain of having him so close but being so far away at the same time.
They want you to do a little interview with him. So you get close to the cameras to answer some questions.
“Entonces y/n… ¿qué crees que fue lo mejor de grabar el largometraje?” You giggle, easy question.
“Definitivamente que pude volver a estar con los chicos. Fue mas sencillo y podíamos divertirnos con mayor libertad” the woman nods, assuring that she was recording your answer.
“Y Enzo… ¿fue difícil grabar estando en una relación?” You know he didn’t like the question, and you suddenly felt worse or awkward.
“Eh… no. La verdad es que llevo rato soltero.”
“¿Hay alguien que podría llevarte a dejar de estarlo?” He laughs and you just want to run away. You really don’t care, and you don’t want to know the answer.
“Hubo una chica con la que estuve en Cádiz hace casi dos años. Nos la pasamos muy bien y las cosas no se dieron, mi culpa. Me gustaría hacer las cosas bien por ella…” it must be you, and it can’t be. You don’t believe him, you just turn around and look for any of your friends. So when you see Matias making you a sign to join im, you take the opportunity.
“Me llaman por acá. Un gusto, y gracias…” you thank the woman with a smile and leave quickly, knowing Enzo has eyes set on your back.
You won’t cry, but you can’t help but feel so weird about everything. You had been great without him. Seeing him back made you go back to that summer in Cadiz and how great it was your life at the time. But that is gone, and so are the memories you made with him.
Everyone knows you disappeared after the projection of the movie and the short film. You don’t like feeling his eyes across the dark room. You can’t rest knowing the party that followed the projections was going to be very painful. By showing clips of the behind-the-scenes, everyone saying words to each other. You are not in the mood for that. And it’s all because of him. Because he had to be an asshole and not think clearly. You couldn’t even call yourself stupid because he gave all the green lights that actually looked like green flags.
And as you question everything in pajamas, looking at the open balcony of your hotel room with red swollen eyes when there’s a knock.
You drag your feet to the door, and once you open it, he’s there.
The suit is still on, but he has a specific gesture on his face.
People often said looks said more than words, and Enzo was the perfect example.
You tilt your head, reading his face. His face says that he’s sorry, he feels sad, and he’s desperate to have you back. And he frowns after seeing your sad face. Your red eyes and look that said how confused and hurt you were.
So both of you stare for a little longer, literally glorifying each other faces. Remembering the soft touches, all the things you talked together. How happy you made each other.
“Podemos arreglarlo…” he finally says.
And slowly both of you smile, sad and broken smiles.
You open your arms and he immediately goes to hug you. His hands find their way to your waist, his face hidden in the warmth of your neck.
“Tú recuerdo jamás me dejó” and you smile again, closing your eyes, letting your face get comfortable on his chest, letting more tears fall.
“Si es contigo…Siempre fue contigo” he admits, knowing he’ll never let you go again.
____________________________________________________________________________
Antes de que me digan que que pendeja esta la y/n por perdonarlo tan fácil, pues en mi cabeza cuando Enzo la fue a ver a su cuarto fue como muy fuerte. De esos momentos donde la tension es mas fuerte y no se necesitan tantas palabras para saber que la persona está literalmente a tus rodillas suplicando so…
I already have an idea for a new fic with Enzo that it’s going to be AHHHHH. hint? Everyone loves you, that’s it
578 notes · View notes
a-simple-gaywitch · 8 months
Text
Heart Full of You
Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher
Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?
Word Count: 4541
Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!
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“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer
~
Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early. 
He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book. 
The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row. 
“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”
A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements. 
“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him. 
“Uncle Spencer!”
“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium. 
“Miss (Y/N)!”
“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.
Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”
You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”
Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”
“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”
“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”
“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”
“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. 
“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said. 
Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”
“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm. 
“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”
Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you. 
~
The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing. 
“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”
“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”
“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.
“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos. 
“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”
~
“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”
Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk. 
“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge. 
“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”
“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.” 
As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”
You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”
“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”
You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”
“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said. 
Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain. 
You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.
“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled. 
“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”
You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.” 
Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”
You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”
“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.
“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos. 
“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture. 
“I’m not sure,” you said. 
“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked. 
You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”
Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.” 
“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said. 
“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.
“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”
“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”
You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”
“Congrats.”
“Thanks. So-”
“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”
“Of course. Happy to help.”
After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”
“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”
“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”
Kate hummed, but dropped it.
~
You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop. 
“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”
“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”
Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”
“Who?”
“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”
Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”
“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”
The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of. 
~
“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”
“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”
“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office. 
Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form. 
“What’s wrong?” JJ asked. 
“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”
She sighed. “You know I do.”
“What happened last time?” Kate asked. 
“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper. 
“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”
“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”
~
“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”
You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”
Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for. 
“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”
“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”
While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus. 
“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.
“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”
JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”
Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty. 
“Where did they-”
Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”
“Kid, look-”
“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.
Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”
“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”
“But-”
“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”
Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”
~
Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.
“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”
You sighed. “Maria-”
“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”
“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers. 
“What?”
You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”
“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”
“Ma-”
“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”
“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”
Your family fell silent. 
“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”
“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”
You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.
~
You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.
Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.
“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”
You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt. 
“Spencer! What are you doing here?”
“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”
“You did?”
“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”
“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. 
“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”
He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”
You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest. 
“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom. 
After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.
The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late. 
“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”
“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. 
Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”
~
Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings. 
“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.
“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”
You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you. 
“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.
You straightened up. “No.”
“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”
You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police. 
They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in. 
“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”
The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go. 
You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”
“What?”
“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”
“How could you possibly have known that?”
“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”
His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”
You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”
“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
~
“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”
“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”
After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby. 
It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team. 
“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”
“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”
As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.
"What?" you whispered.
"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."
Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.
Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.
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trashmouth-richie · 9 months
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eddie x Fem! Reader
honey I’m home masterlist
TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc
A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.
The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal. 
  The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly. 
  He fought with the first responders. 
  Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance. 
  He refused to leave you. 
  He didn’t need to be cared for. 
  He didn’t care about anything. 
  Only you.
  Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand. 
  Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet. 
  And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours. 
  His promise pressed delicately to your lips.
  “What have we got?” 
  “According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..” 
  I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her! 
  “…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”
  “Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!” 
  “Jesus Christ.”
  “When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”
  “Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.” 
—-
Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore. 
  When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room. 
  “So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,” 
  Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.” 
  His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”
  “Stolen costume,”
  “Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot. 
— 
“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?” 
  Sterile. 
  Chemical.
  You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t. 
  Is this death?
  Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening. 
  The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face. 
  Oblivious to your surroundings. 
  “Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?” 
  “CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”
  “Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,” 
  “they both did.” 
  You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and  immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body. 
  He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described. 
  “I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”
  He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out. 
  Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him. 
  “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”
  And maybe your love for him was always there. 
  Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed. 
  Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it. 
  -
Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.
  The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face. 
  The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.
  A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury. 
  “Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles. 
  Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”
  But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!” 
  The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”
  “Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”
  She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”
  “Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown. 
  “Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.” 
  Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.” 
  Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission. 
  “Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip  teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!” 
  Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”
  “Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.” 
  “Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”
  He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip. 
  “Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?” 
  “In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.
  “Not exactly…”
  “Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”
  “Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.” 
  Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head. 
  Oh my God
  …Tooty
  Holy shit.
  “That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”
  Eddie.
  Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall? 
  “…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace. 
  “No, Mr. Munson..”
  This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.
  “…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.” 
  A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.  
  Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie. 
  His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion. 
  REWIND
  PLAY
  The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole. 
  REWIND 
  PLAY
  PAUSE 
  Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe. 
  STOP
  EJECT 
  The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here. 
  You were alone.
  He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once. 
  But not fear. 
  He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep. 
  He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands. 
  You were experiencing this pain all by yourself. 
  He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous. 
  Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?  
  Why didn’t anyone tell him? 
  His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed. 
  “How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard. 
  “Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!” 
  Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.” 
  “Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them. 
�� In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.
  The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone? 
  There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave. 
  Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man. 
  He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket. 
———
It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck. 
  Surely not their son? Their angel?
  But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground. 
  Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles. 
  Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes. 
  Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare. 
  The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes. 
  He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed. 
-
4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain. 
  Eddie never left. 
  Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable. 
  Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent. 
  One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him. 
  The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?
  But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about. 
  The one you cried for. 
  The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.
  His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue. 
  It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 
  His girl. His whole world. Awake.
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lazycats-stuff · 6 months
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Can you do a batfam x baby bro reader? Where Bruce puts reader in a Batman onesie and it was cute and when they boys see it they all start fighting, which turns physical quick, over who’s costume reader should wear a onesie of next
There would be murder in the manor anon, not just a fight. Couldn't find a gif with a Batman onesie so have this baby hippo. Also, a short fluffy story for melting hearts.
Summary: Bruce buys (Y/N) a Batman onesie. It ends up in a fight.
Warnings: Brothers fight for their baby bro.
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It was started on a Saturday morning. Alfred had to go to the grocery store and Bruce decided to tag in. (Y/N) was too and Bruce thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to take (Y/N) with him. Alfred didn't oppose to it and (Y/N) needed to see a little bit more about the world.
And that's why Alfred, Bruce and (Y/N) were in Target just browsing for groceries. Bruce and (Y/N) in his arms were just walking around. Bruce stopped at the clothing department. (Y/N) had a lot of onesies, but what caught his eyes was a Batman one.
Bruce smiled at that, walking to them. He took one, showing it to his (Y/N).
" What do you think? Should we buy it? " Bruce said and (Y/N) started laughing. " You got it. " Bruce said, adjusting (Y/N) in his arms and started walking back to Alfred.
" Hey Alfred, what do you think? " Bruce asked, showing him the onesie. Alfred chuckled, pushing the cart.
" This will cause a fight back home. " Alfred said and the two started moving to the register.
" Oh come on. It's just a onesie Alfred. " Bruce said and Alfred shook his head.
" Say that to them. " Alfred said, waiting to be checked out. " I mean, why would they fight over a onesie. "
" Because they love their brother very much. " Alfred pointed out.
" I know, but still over a onesie? "
" Master Bruce, they will fight. Trust me on this. "
They came home 30 minutes later and Bruce quickly changed his son into a Batman onesie. Alfred quietly shook his head at the sight. He loves his grandson, but this was going to be messy.
After 10 minutes, everyone started pilling into the kitchen. And each one stopped, starring at their baby brother. They would usually run up to their brother, pick him up and just kiss his head.
(Y/N) was the anchor of the family and the brothers wanted to protect him and kill for him.
" I'm sorry, why is he wearing a Batman onesie? " Jason asked, pointing at his baby brother.
" Why not? " Bruce retorted and the brothers started glaring at each other.
" He should wear a Robin one. " Damian said and that has started a big argument. Bruce glanced at Alfred who just smirked in response. Jesus Christ.
It was all kind of good until somebody threw a first punch. Bruce had to step back, but the four brothers moved to the living room, away from (Y/N).
" Hey! " Bruce yelled out, but he wasn't heard at all. The tornado of four boys continued outside to the garden. There were grunts and one of them is going to end up breaking something.
" What have I done? " Bruce asked himself. (Y/N) just watched in wonder tilting his head in wonder.
" Interesting noises huh. " Bruce talked to his son, who giggled and reached for Bruce's nose.
" Yeah, I know. Alfred, holding him while I make sure that those idiots don't kill one another. " Bruce said and Alfred took his grandson gladly.
" Master (Y/N), I have told him so. " Alfred said, listening to Bruce yelling. He shook his head at his other grandsons. " Hopefully, you will be more calm than them when you grow up. "
(Y/N) just started giggling.
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livlaughloveluke · 4 months
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𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠- 𝐣.𝐜
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𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you waking up in jack’s arms makes him realize he needs to do something soon
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a lil kiss 💋, just fluff mainly
𝐚/𝐧: was half asleep while writing this so it might be rough
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jack had his hands draped around waist, while you were laying on his chest. your head was snuggled in the crook of his neck, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine.
you were fast asleep, however he was definitely not. he was supposed to napping with you in his trailer, but he couldn’t sleep. he has something, or someone, on his mind. 
you and jack were filming Scream VI together and played love interests. it was fine at first, but as filming progressed, jacks feeling for you only grew. there was only one problem. you and jack were friends.
well, sorta. 
you did everything a normal couple would do, but just as buddies. hence why you were cuddled up together on the couch in his trailer. no one really knew why you weren’t officially together, for you would make such a good couple.
he wanted to call you his. it was silly, the only thing keeping you from formally dating was a label, and yet he craved it, more than anything.
he looked down at you, your glowed from the sunlight peeking through the windows. you looked angelic, and he wondered how a person could be this pretty. god, he hated himself for being so fearful of rejection. 
unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way. you wished you weren’t such a chicken, and could grow a pair and ask him out. how was it possible to want a person this bad?
you were a match made in heaven, as jenna liked to say. she was your costar, and your best friend. you told her all about your interactions with jack, the both of you giggling like little schoolgirls. you had given him the codename “strawberry,” so you could talk about him without others knowing his identity. 
jenna saw the spark in your eyes when you talked to him, and your pupils dilated in size every time you were around him. you were in love with a man you weren’t even dating. 
your body twisted and turned as you slowly woke up. you blink away the sleepiness and cautiously looked up at jack to see if he had waken up yet.  
“good morning, sleepyhead.” jack says. you smile at eachother, and you sat up, the shared blanket slipping off of your silky skin.
“how long have you been awake?” you asked, hoping you didn’t keep him glued in place while you were fast asleep. your sleepy voice made jack swoon, and he held back from doing anything he would later regret. 
“not long, i just woke up.” he lies straight through his teeth in order to make you feel okay. you just nod and pat around the cushions, searching for your phone. you find it smooshed in between two pillows, and you check the clock. it was two twenty three.
“what time do we need to be back on set by?” you curiously ask him.
“three pm, i think. but we need to go to hair and makeup at two thirty.”
you flash him the time, and hop out of bed. you and him take short walk to the costume department. there was two separate trailers, and all of the actors randomly assigned to one at the beginning of filming. you and jack got split up, which sucked, but the system was supposed to help with efficiency and speed. 
you part ways, and both get into full costume. your makeup artist was around your age, so you enjoyed chatting with her. after getting ready, you both meet up on set.
you and him weren’t in a lot of scenes today, so you mainly just played game pigeon together. the day was spent competing and laughing together, and you wouldn’t have changed anything.
however, the whole day jack had plastered on a fake smile. in reality, he was stressed to beyond compare. he was going to ask you out by the end of the day. 
seeing you all wrapped up in his arms this afternoon made him realize that he wants to start a future with you. so while his was alone, he called his buddy, romeo, and sent him to the store to get flowers. he made romeo send photos of every bouquet in the shop, so jack could pick out the perfect bundle for you. 
it was now dark out, and filming for today was over. you and him already had changed back into your normal clothes, and you both went back to your personal trailers to grab your keys. you separated and agreed to meet back up in the, now empty, parking lot. 
what you didn’t know was that romeo was waiting in jacks trailer, with the flowers that jack would use to ask you out. jacks heart raced as he rushed to the parking lot. he wanted to be there first, just to see your reaction when you saw him standing with a colorful section of gorgeous flowers in his hands.
he anxiously waited for you, nervously popping his fingers. he then saw you walking up to him, the moonlight illuminating your features. you approached him, getting closer and closer.
he handed you the flowers, and you smiled brighter than ever, wondering what they were for.
“y/n, i’ve loved spending countless hours with you over the past few months, and there is nothing i want more in this world than to be your boyfriend. will you please go out with me?” he lovingly asked.
you stood on your tiptoes and cupped his hand with your cheek, before connecting your lips together. you had been waiting for this moment since the day you met him, and it definitely lived up to its potential. he kissed you back, passion filling your bodies. 
you pulled apart, and looked at him with a huge grin. jack opened his mouth to ask a sarcastic question.
“so was that a yes?”
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swprequels · 3 months
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"The distinctive qualities of antique textile pieces always appeal to me, and I particularly like being able to resurrect vintage materials and trimmings, revitalizing often delicate bits of embroidery, beadings, or lace from the Victorian era (or earlier) and incorporating them into new garments. I happened across some rolls of vintage 1930s and 40's fabric originating in France, which I used to create several costumes, including Chancellor Valorum's bruise-colored corded silk underrobe.
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and the sunray-pleated underdress in orange shot silk (where different colors of thread are used to weave the warp and the weft) seen in Amidala's Throne Room Costume. The neck of this costume was enhanced by placing layers of gold glass-bead fringing and Victorian bullion-embroidered lace motifs over the yoke area.
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I had several excellent suppliers in the United Kingdom. the United States, and, eventually, Australia, for the extensive amounts of vintage paraphernalia that are given a new life in the Star Wars galaxy, but my primary source was in Scotland: the Saratoga Trunk shop, where copious amounts of treasures were constantly sourced and stored for my visits, such as the incredible jet collar and neck piece of the Lake Retreat Dining Gown.
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The choice of fabric always very much influences the finished garment, and sometimes, it seemed almost impossible to find, or to have made in time, exactly what we were looking for. Padmé's Episode II Wedding Ensemble is one such example. George's vision of an unpretentious private ceremony at the lovers' Naboo lake retreat with only the Holy Man officiating with no guests (save C-3PO and R2-D2) called for a simple, beautiful gown in incredible fabric. We had finalized on paper how it should look, but just couldn't find suitable material. Eventually, Karen Thorn, our Australian buyer, happened upon an antique lace bedspread from the late Edwardian period (circa 1900). It was absolutely perfect, but beds were smaller then, so there wasn't nearly enough material to make the planned dress. George came into the costume department one Saturday morning and we discussed options, taking turns draping the available fabric on the stand; as we both liked the bedspread so very much, we ended up adjusting the design to fit the available amount of fabric.
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Interestingly, when we were shooting the wedding in Italy, our production supervisor Guido Cerasuolo, upon seeing the dress, exclaimed, "Ah, Italian lace!" He went on to explain that it was exactly like the fabrics made by the old ladies on the island of Burano. It's possible that the material originated in Italy, emigrated to Australia, and returned, a century later, to the shores of Lake Como.
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*Maltese lace veil with headdress made from Edwardian wax flowers and beaded pearls. Small pearls are sprinkled over the rest of the veil.
The multitude of methods utilized to enhance and embellish the many different types of fabrics used to create the costumes drew on all sorts of techniques, and we took advantage of both historic and modern processes to enhance their impact. Fluid, stiff, rough, crisp, smooth, soft, or thick wools, cottons, silks, and sumptuous velvets were screen-printed, embroidered, devoréd, dyed, smocked, pleated, quilted, beaded, or felted to help achieve a harmonious picture through the use of texture, color, proportion, and balance.
But ideas don't only come from fabrics. Art, architecture, archeology, nature, fish, coral - there is a revelation to be found everywhere. Be open to everything in this vast, brilliant, exhilarating planet we live on and the many rich, diverse cultures and the histories of the people who live, or have lived, here and you will never lack for inspiration. " - Trisha Biggar, Dressing a Galaxy: The Costumes of Star Wars
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barren-heart · 4 months
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The Hidden Love Story of What We Do in the Shadows: How The Internet Fell in Love with Harvey Guillen’s Guillermo de la Cruz
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I think it’s fair to call this show what it is: a comedy.
The actors have said it’s themselves: the show is 50% improv, 50% script. A lot of what we see is a brilliant collaboration of talent, writing, and the actors saying the funniest thing they can say about something in that moment.
According to Harvey Guillen, some scenes would last 30 minutes each if they didn’t cut it down. That improv is what makes the show what is it: the funniest show on television.
What’s interesting about this little Shit and Fart show (affectionate), is the heart of it all: Guillermo.
Originally the show was looking for an older man to play Nandor’s familiar. The character had worked for his master for 20 years, not 10 as we see in the pilot episode.
Harvey got an audition randomly. At a wine and cheese night of a friend’s, he was invited to audition for the part. It was random, but also, it was fate.
Let me explain.
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Harvey Guillen auditioning for the role of Guillermo
(I actually have the full audition tape of Harvey’s if anyone’s interested.) Link below!
Harvey didn’t “fit the part” (Harvey’s words) whatsoever of this character and decided to dress himself to look older, putting on what he calls his Harry Potter glasses and parted his hair down the middle.
The Guillermo we see in the pilot was all Harvey’s idea of what that character should be and the costuming department just ran with it. It’s also fun to point out that to those who don’t know, Harvey created Guillermo’s last name even before he knew he’d play the show’s Vampire Slayer.
I mention this because I don’t think they (showrunner, producers,etc) expected Guillermo to become such a fan favorite. Which kinda explains why his character is the punching bag of season one and why it somewhat changes as seasons go by.
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I mean, we don’t even see Guillermo in this season one poster (we don’t see Colin Robinson, either. But I feel like I could write an entirely other post about that character and why I think he’s genuinely the best and most consistently written character on the show. But I won’t right now).
I think they expected Guillermo to be a one-note side kick, which is fine. Many of Harvey’s previous roles were nearly background characters (think Benedict Pickwick in The Magicians).
But, Harvey’s take on the character coupled with his talent at being both comedic and dramatic really shined through. And I think that’s where you start to see that maybe they could do more with him than just being the funny guy in the background.
I also think that’s why you start to see some threading of a more serious plot when it comes to Guillermo’s storyline because of Harvey’s range.
Who would’ve known a funny bit like being a Van Helsing descent in a house full of vampires would get you compelling scenes like the familiar fight The Night Market, Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, and the Nandor and Guillermo fight in The Portrait?
Harvey mentioned having to train for these and wanted to do his own stunts! And he does them well!
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Did they imagine Guillermo being such a badass in the pilot? Probably not. But he is and people took to it. The serious fight scenes (even with bits of comedy filtered in) really stand out in their own as excellent action scenes.
Along with badass scenes, Harvey delivered compelling emotional scenes like Guillermo’s coming out (which Harvey actually cried in as well as other cast and crew, and they had to edit it to not make it too serious), the scene he left Nandor for Celeste, and many scenes in S5’s Exit Interview.
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I also think they didn’t anticipate his chemistry with Kayvan Novak. It’s brought up a lot in interviews with them and everyone can tell that they genuinely are really good friends in real life, which makes acting together on screen that much better.
(Funny enough, he was supposed to do a chemistry read with Kayvan before shooting and wasn’t able to meet him until they were on set for the pilot. )
I think in some ways, even though the show wanted it to be a funny Gaston and Lefou type relationship, Kayvan and Harvey had undeniable chemistry you couldn’t deny.
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And I think that began to grow with their character’s evolving relationship. From master and servant to friends to sometimes the show and network alluding to them being in a romance (Guillermo’s drunk love confession, Marwa liking what Nandor likes, the Network making videos about shipping Nandermo).
And even Paul Simms (the one who is being grilled for That’s His Boss quote), also said “Guillermo and Nandor is the greatest love story in modern television.”
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So yeah, I think originally they started the show with the intention that it was supposed to be similar to the movie that shares its name. The Nandor/Guillermo drama of Shadows the TV show would be so out of place in the movie. The whole Guillermo vampire arc, if it was movie inspired, would not be as dramatic as they have made it in the show.
Looking back to the pilot, I can see that they really tried to make it as close to the source material as possible. But I think it took off in a direction that even the creators didn’t imagine it would go. Just a silly little comedy show about silly little vampires. And don’t get me wrong, it still definitely is.
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But the show has evolved. And for better or worse, Nandor and Guillermo’s relationship will be one of the most compelling things about the show and I’m curious where they are going to take it now.
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I guess this turned into a bit of an Harvey Guillen appreciation post and honestly, why not? Look at that adorable face.
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fellshish · 5 months
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Why do you think crowley is trans? I'm honestly curious. Not hate meant.
Oh it’s not really a matter of opinion it’s just canon fact. Neil has said time and time again that angels and demons are genderless / don’t fall into human-like binaries. But even on the surface level of the show we see crowley present femme multiple times, of which nanny ashtoreth is of course the most obvious example, but also when they’re watching jesus get crucified is one of those (confirmed) moments.
Also if you look at crowley’s costuming, a lot of his clothes have a “women’s cut”, the silver bolo he wears etc... The costuming department on the show makes sure to bring a certain genderfuck element to this character.
In short, crowley is trans and would miracle a permanent tiny rock in terfs’ shoes.
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lostryu · 5 months
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i need gay rights because literally not a single self-proclaimed cis/het 'ally' understands the alienating experience that comes with being the only gay person in the workplace.
i am a gnc butch lesbian. i use he/him pronouns. when i came out to my manager regarding my pronouns (i had been an open lesbian since the moment of my hire), she told me that she supported me, but she could not enforce or ask our clients to use the correct pronouns for me. she told me it was something i would have to learn to deal with. she never uses the correct pronouns for me unless a person from a different department (who also happens to be LGBT+) is present. she is our HR in addition to manager.
none of my coworkers in my department ever remember to use my pronouns. if i remind them, they go over the top with the "im sorry's" and the "im still learning" and "you know i try my hardest's!" and "i swear im not homophobic!", it has been over 6 months since i came out. if i say nothing, they continue to use she/her (unless that other lgbt+ person from the other department is present, then they miraculously get it right).
sometimes they call me 'girl'. they always flounder and correct to "man-boy-uh youknowwhatimeanright". they laugh it off. they never bother to ask what terms i am comfortable with, or if i even cared in the first place. they don't care about my gender, they never bother to ask. somehow the subject gets changed every time i try to tell them, or set a boundary.
once in a while in a slow shift, the conversation will hop to our dating lives. somehow, it always jumps to how men suck and how dating a woman must be so much easier. they wish they could be gay and not straight. every time, they'll stare at me expectantly, like i am an animal at the zoo. no matter what i say, positive or negative, i must be lying. i cannot be that happy in my relationship, or if i have any issues, they must be minor. if i say 'why don't you try dating a girl then' to their remarks, they'll laugh, say something like "there is no way i possibly could" with that special tone of disguised disgust.
i am a prop, at work. they tell me about how much they love their kids. how they could bring anyone home and they wouldn't care. "they could be black, brown, or purple," they'll say "it could be a woman or a man! I support gay rights!" Then they will talk about how hungry they are, and how they will be going to Chick Fil a for the 4th time this week. 'as a treat'. it is thursday. they talk about going to Hobby Lobby again for christmas decorations, or another sale. sometimes i think i can taste blood.
its june. they talk about the pride parade and how excited they are to see the queens and their 'funny costumes'. they talk about how fun it is to go and watch, how they like the free things the corporations hand out. they don't want to bring their younger kids though. they're not old enough. they do not know that the first pride was a riot. they do not know what happened during the AIDS crisis, how many died. they don't really care when i try to tell them, they'd rather focus on the fun parts of the parade. the spectacle.
i wear a pronoun pin, to make it easier. still somehow no one can get my pronouns right. a client notices it. commends me for "being brave" and "coming out." she never uses my correct pronouns. i stopped wearing the pin after the 11th person asked me if my name on my name tag was my real one, and after the 45th person went out of their way to use incorrect pronouns every sentence. my manager, the HR, did not care.
i need gay rights, but somehow everything got resolved when they allowed us to marry in 2015. to our allies, the work is done. somehow i am left more alone than when we started.
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morewittepain · 2 months
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some thoughts i had while thinking about college and inevitably connecting it back to my fixations as i always do:
random tbosas college au hcs!!
lucy gray would beg whichever poor soul got forced to be her roommate to push their mattresses together to make a mega bed, but she gets so cozy the first night that she sleeps through all seven of her alarms and misses like three classes.
livia, arachne, and clemensia are all insufferable sorority girls. except arachne and clemensia are super serious about it and livia is only in it for the booze and the lols. she made one joke day 1 of freshman year about being a sorority girl and ended up committing to the bit a little too hard, and now she's too far in to back out.
there's one bar off campus that all the daddy's money students (the academy mentors) started going to to escape from the weird liberal arts kids (the tributes) until one day lucy gray ends up scoring a job playing at said bar and now everyone is significantly bummed out when anyone mentions the place.
riding off of that, we all know that lucy gray is a theatre kid, but she's the most insufferable brand. she runs through the halls singing show tunes, she tries to start flash mobs in the dining hall, and if you mention it once she will not shut up about the theatre club's latest improv show. they did wicked once and she showed up to classes in full green makeup every day throughout the entirety of tech week.
not only is she the theatre kid, she's just the weird kid in general. she shows up to every 8 am class in the most insanely tacky diy outfits. more often than not, she repurposes whatever costume pieces the theatre department was throwing out. it's all craft store gemstones, hot glue, and a metric ton of puffy paint. she's also constantly conjuring flowers out of thin air it seems and passing them out as flower crowns to whoever is within a ten mile radius. mid final she just slowly passes you a whole heap of daisies weaved together and you're left like "??????"
she sets her eyes on someone and either becomes their best friend or worst nightmare.
coryo walking through the front door covered in glitter with a **very** homemade rainbow scarf forcefully tied around his neck and a flower behind his ear: TIGRIS THE WEIRD KID GOT ME ON THE WALK HOME AGAIN AND I COULDN'T OUTRUN HER
sejanus and coryo would dorm together for a total of two months before coryo decides that if he doesn't move off campus he will literally kill himself so he ends up back with tigris and commutes. he's a coward (sejanus snores).
oh god wait no is he a frat boy? i hate that image in my head. GET IT OUT!!
mizzen is significantly younger than everyone else, like 14 or something, and hangs out on campus with coral (bc in my head they're cousins or smthn) and it is quite literally the "uhhhh want a beer?" "HE'S FOUR!!" meme. nobody knows what to do with him. he's just sitting there with an ipad and a yoohoo living his best life until coral makes him do his homework.
coryo fails a situationship twice a week and everyone clowns on him constantly for never being able to get out of the talking stage. one day he's showing up to lucy gray's shows and the next he's ducking behind cars in the parking lot so she doesn't see him. one day he's making out with livia at a party and the next he's crying on the floor while clemensia pats him on the back because nobody loves him. one day he's genuinely hooking up with sejanus and the next he's pretending he was drunk so he can act like he doesn't remember. boo you whore!!! men will do anything BUT therapy.
sejanus is that one kid whose mom is always on campus for some reason and just chilling in their dorm. they're knitting sweaters and watching friends, leave them alone!!
clemensia would be the ra that everyone hates because she would absolutely snitch on your ass to look good, meanwhile lamina is the ra that everyone loves because she's just in it for the free room and is too tired to hunt anyone down for breaking the rules. work smarter, not harder.
reaper is also a weird kid, but in the mysterious artist who just glares at people from across the dining hall and sketches angrily kinda way. he and lucy gray are besties because i said so. he's teaching her how to paint in exchange for guitar lessons, except she can only finger paint and he's left handed and can hardly play her guitar comfortably.
treech and lamina were that one couple that picked the same college during their honeymoon phase in high school and travelled together except it absolutely ruined their relationship and now they hate each other. if you're a girl's girl, though, you take lamina's side because she does no wrong (totally not because she lets you sneak pot into the dorm as long as she "can't see it" so she doesn't have to do a whole night's worth of paperwork).
coral and lucy gray have been dating for half of a semester but pretend to hate each other when they're in public simply for the bit. they're faking petty cat fights, they're glaring at each other in the hallways, but really they're smoochin behind the scenes. they just think they're funny.
it's 5 am and i need to SLEEP but please drop any other headcanons you have about this batshit au because I would love to see them. i'm sure this will make no sense when i reread it in the morning, but trust that i will revisit this subject because them just being normal teenagers is always so funny to me.
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