#Taylor swift x Seattle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralnymphh · 2 months

Text

The Sweeter the Wheat

# pair: post-seattle!jackson!ellie x reader

## summary: There is no better birthday gift than loving her.

### reader discretion is advised: romance angst, fluff, bit suggestive towards the end, alcohol consumption, jesse is alive (he thought ahead this time), loser!ellie, sometimes!awkward!ellie, sometimes!cheekyandflirty!ellie, reader is sickenly envious and a bit nosy, but aware, ravenous and tipsy makeouts, sappy shit. #### a/n; listened to "to all of you" by syd matters + "cardigan" by taylor swift while writing parts of it.. got a love/hate relationship with this fic but it slaps i guess

SPRING SUN

“At least we got back before her birthday. Psh—‘magine that sweet tooth havin’ to commemorate her twentieth with nuts and jerky.”

Jackson tholes the bright spring against countless heavy hearts, numb from the death groans of winter. Under the melted snow, came old meadows, but nobody returned to comb through them. Only to pluck them bare of flora for a sole reason—a sole person—and not in the name of beauty.

Some meadows were stabbed through. Pierced into, made into a final home for the dearly departed he.

Time slipped slowly.

“Huh?”

Jesse sits at the tail of the bar, mumbling somethings that fly right past your ears. The diner is packed and the jukebox softly plays, but that of joy and conversation rules, so all nearby speech that is spat has become hodgepodge, herding your brain to run where the world is quiet. Given that, and the subtle significance in the day around you, you feel less than yourself. Immaterial.

There's a rightful wager that you didn't hear Jesse at all. Something about birthdays, maybe.

You pull yourself from the stars with a head-shake, having to retire the tiny notepad in your clutch. “Sorry, I completely tripped out just then. Why are we talking about birthdays—whose birthday are we.. talking about?”

Jesse appeared to be in doubt that your star-scaping moments were over; his features contorting more and more into disbelief as you gave him that barely curious squint. Poor him for having to be offended for somebody else.

A special somebody else at that!

His drawl comes in handy, “Come on, man. Four years strong and now you wanna forget that girl's birthday?” a voice so versed in pettiness, you could smack it right from his clever, grinning lips.

At whim, you almost do. But then his words fall into perfect place; that subtle signifigance makes all the more sense.

Spring: dappled in sunlight and vigorous in the trees, seems lovelier than it would in March or May. Seas of crimson and clovers thrive in the middle of April, and so does the red in her hair—soft, auburn tines—and the meadows in her earnest and shiny eyes. Recently dim, bruised and disheartened. But there, and unplucked at least, above the freckles you least regret missing when vengeance and a clue drove her out of this large, timber sanctuary. Home.

Every year on this day, the sun is relentlessly beautiful. No wonder, you think, now that you remember.

It's Ellie's birthday.

“Shit,” you curse, chewing at your guilty lip. “Is Ellie hiding out today as well? Haven't noticed her walking the thoroughfare at all.” Through the idle-talk, your hands find stray porcelain to retrieve and pile in the sink, scoffing at the liters of coffee that inevitably go cold in forgotten mugs.

“Do you notice anything working behind that counter?”

“Duh, dipshit,” you spout, back-talking him shamelessly, “I noticed you ambling towards the window earlier and knew my ears were in for a grating punishment.” Minding your eyes on nothing but the various plates you grab, the clutter clears fast. Like a damn robot.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, not my fault patrol’s been on cruise control this week.” With a part of the counter graciously tidied by your speedy work, he reclines in the barstool and claims that space with his lower legs, off to the side. Blissfully permission-less. “Can't say the same for here, though.”

You draw in a prefacing breath, tilting a cup at him. “You could if you hel—”

“No chance.”

“Fuck you, Jess,” you reply wielding a nickname given for occasions of defeat, little knives glaring from your eyes. “Thought this friendship had a no-questions-asked sort of thing. You've disgraced me.” Cueing that age-old love for drama, you gild the lily; mock a drama-queen. Hand to your heart and a pout to your mouth.

Hating Jesse is out of the picture, and hate is an easy pill to swallow. Sure, you two bark blank insults from time to time, but it's all in good humor. You just get each other too well. A hitch fated to click. A shoulder to violently sob into.

Jesse tuts at you, rolling a smug pair of eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Diners just aren't my thing, as infected aren't yours.” He reaches and grasps his mug of coffee that'd been basking there ever since you whipped up his usual, content in keeping his gob flat for the ‘noon.

And you're content in the casual peace and company. Always are. It coerces you to fulfill orders quicker, you would say. Here you stand, in perfect function, machine of the cogs.

That's how all days streak by here. A warm sun arises, and the hustle and bustle of human nature crowds every faded red booth in here, as your kin would have you sustain, and you sustain it fine enough. Even with the latching, mostly silent presence of your best bud Jesse to keep boredom a stranger and insanity a myth. Peckish lips, thirsty throats; everybody. All famished faces of Jackson, satisfied in the wake of your work. All, save one.

Ding!

At the entrance, you hear the jingle of the tiny, golden bell topping the door, and it doesn't intrigue you to investigate. Everyone is a frequenter, and you're basically omnipresent; sensing who it is and where they're routed to before they even sit. Call that perfect function.

Abruptly, the vintage magazine Jesse blankly browsed through is smacked back in place, and his throat clears. “First customer to break the hour-long streak. Let's see who—” he trails, and a dramatic pause thickens the air. Surprise loudly ensues. “Oh, ain't that funny. Look what fate dragged in.”

“Is it not a regular?” you ask, and at last perk your chin up. Intrigue clasps you now, as Jesse thought it atypical enough to point out.

Turns out, it isn't a regular at all.

Fate was a scary portrayal, as fate—and unfinished threads—would have you snuck into a corner and stranded for her to find. Plaid and blue, stood Ellie, lost as a doe in tangled woods, yet tall with purpose in front of that swinging glass door. From here, you notice her right arm supported in a white sling and twisted into her chest, right off the bat, as you did the night of return. Changes were made, obviously, sprigs of marker detailing the canvas-color of it, no doubt produced by those pesky kids in-town. Her tattoo is sorely invisible behind the bandages too; you've always liked that thing.

She's a bona-fide crush. A red-headed angel.

There and then, you recall why your heart reawoke into a prance that night she returned head to toe in dry, aged blood. You felt the revival of an inner-warmth, tracing fingers over the stitches in her back as she hunched in repressive quietude. Felt the moon evaporate off your skin, felt her wrist tensen in your palm as you dressed the wounds in hers. Felt the elusive moment staying became going, as it wasn't right.

You went straight home and threw right up, that very night. Her cold, marred skin was as deathly-like as the skin of a corpse. And you trailed your fingertips, all over it.

Strange. In a week, her flesh has been suppled of life. Hale, blushing and glowing as in younger days.

In your heart: a tremor. It reaches up every time you swallow, and blooms its beat, pounding at the pit of your throat. You don't feel real, you feel light, you feel fright. You feel the past, waking from a slumber in you, emerging breathless beyond the surface. So many things.

You feel fourteen again.

“Guess her ears were burning,” mumbled Jesse, polite enough to not transform your shared scrutiny into a scene, only so he could leave it in your hands. His head carefully turns, speaking softly, “You spoke to her at all, recently?”

“No,” a weighted breath departs you, and your shoulders repose. “Only the night she returned, while I tended to some of her travel wounds. Conversation wasn't easy to digest.” Shunning her very blatant presence, you pick your wash rag and begin again, foraging distraction.

“Bet not. Shit got hectic on the route Tommy picked,” he hums, and his eyes pursue once more to secretly follow her walking the opposite direction. Eyes you expectantly the second she slips into a booth. “Gonna take her order?”

You glower at his smug stare, knowing full well he intends to badger you into jumping the gun. Well, you're employed to do that, but, fuck fate! “Uh, duh? Di—”

“—Ipshit. Stop stalling.” He aims his hand, escorting you. “Birthday girl awaits.”

“Yeah, hold that smile. See what happens later.”

“Mhm.”

EXTRA SYRUP

Spectral hands suffocate your heart, and now your chest is tightened. Gut nervously sickened. There, she sits, seemingly absorbed by the air, and the sun that ripens with it. Thumbing at her nails, but not anxiously. Blowing at her lip, but not boredly. Hair dark ochre as the earth, yet fiery as the flaxen ray that pours into it. Tucked into a neat bun, as it was in December, January, and every paving year before. You like her hair that way.

She halved it up when Joel passed, and Seattle howled her name.

A lot about Ellie changed, really, but that is the perennial nature of water. Ellie is Neptune; a late-teenage girl experiencing a crucial shift into a new, individual season. Ones so seldom—they're cataclysmic, but temporary.

So much of her is eclipsed to the naked eye. Buried to make burrowing space for others. Just not you, it seems.

Every now and then, she glances as you intricately work your way over, a fist cupped to itself as if it alone safekeeps her deep and untold intentions; the warrant for sitting there. And you too, glance when her eyes smoothly retreat, dedicating pockets of this single, cherished minute to drink in little glimpses of her face. Trying to read her, read the shapes on her face if they indicate trouble, or truce. Last time you talked, you declared your resentment for being left worried and sleepless in Jackson.

Was it out of love?

Through the fair-haired light, that scar-heavy look on her features has noticeably abated, recapturing the tender warmth that gave her face the kind, puppy-browed ambiance you hesitated the world for. Gently laid brows, scarred the same as ever.

Those fucking freckles, too; a constellated map. Hidden miles and miles away for one sun and moon too many.

Not a mile bridges you both apart now, not anymore.

“Hey, Ellie,” you chime in, frail in respect of the one-mind conversation her idle stare partakes. Just her, and the spring sun. Sweet wheat skin is taken from its aerial shine as her head heeds your voice, a loose twine of auburn falling from place.

Your somber greeting fine-tuned the focus in her eyes, softening into a shape less spacious, more devoted.

And though away from underneath the boughs of sunlight, her eyes found a disembodied source. Dried moss, gleams into a violent sea glass, pupils taking in how you hold that notepad firm in thumbs and pointers.

For the first time in an age, you too, have changed.

The corners of her lips crease into her cheek. “Hey,” her reply mirrors the breathiness of yours, and her left arm low-arcs up to rest on the booth seat, body facing you head-on. Totally relaxed. “How come you didn't mention the job switch? Was lookin’ for you,” she asks curiously, a tinge of that sweet-talk peeking through her wide grin.

Now that you've stepped closer and garnered her attention, you can see and feel every notched nicety of her face on yours. You can only imagine how a swollen, sliced lip feels, and the continual migraines a fractured nose brings. Weeks of healing have swept by, but her afflictions in particular weren't petty.

“Guess it felt irrelevant to bring up when you got back. But you're here now, and you found me. So?” your tone edges on.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles. “Did you not miss me?” She feigns offense; brows quirking and her tone pitching slightly.

You did.

A sigh starts in you, “Hard to not miss and worry for somebody when you picked up their slack in every patrol dating way back.” Barely nipping what you really felt with a snarky tease. “Oh shit, that rhymes,” you glance off and whisper to yourself, still loud enough to inspire mirth.

And it does; her forehead pinches and her voice rises in mirth, laughing casually and shifting in her seat to lean one elbow upon the table. “Ha— yeah,” she admits defeat. Ellie is undeniably cute when she does, always shrinks into herself and sinks into thoughtful conference, thinking of something—anything smart to knock you back into that corner. “Guess you're right. Hm, always were on my ass about that, huh?”

You tut, “Mhm. Missed my scolding in Seattle?” crossing a leg and bearing weight upon it.

“Nah,” she confesses briefly, and you barely believe it. Wringing in doubt at that sly smile she tries to conceal from you. “I learned my lesson this time.” Ellie glances up, a prayer written on her face asking you to hold your scolds. “Trust me.”

“Hurt enough this time?”

“Fuck you!” She punts you playfully in the ankle and begins a laugh again. “You’re not allowed to point that out!”

That was the way of things; Ellie would charge into a fight wearing her life on her chest, slackening the rules, and you had to reel her in. Tug the leash. It had you suspecting her to have a foolproof reason as her backbone, like she was daring the devil with eyes fearlessly open. Steadfast intent. She would lure runners to her, grapple them from you, or push you away beyond safety. Leave you to watch an animalistic vigor fill every bind in her body until you're convinced she’s either coming out bitten or scathingly torn.

You wish she saw how worrying she truly looked; a sweet face splattered hair to chin in the blood of infected, catching her breath and shaking the arm of the croaking infected she just slaughtered off her ankle. Being way too blithe-hearted for the sacred sake of everyone involved.

“Don't worry about me.”

One day, when she asked you with her solemn eyes to be afraid, you thought she finally trusted you to handle yourself past her overprotective nature. Then, one clicker got too close for comfort, and she retracted the pact of fighting equally. Losing more than what her blade owes the earth would prove her fears to be a product of her unsacrifice.

Ellie figured it was half the reason you quit patrol duty, but not that it was fully the reason you anguished over her leaving for Seattle later on; her appetite for violence.

She accepts it so easily. But even when you had sworn she had place in something as simple as retiring from patrol and nothing else, she smelt the sugary scent of a white lie. Joel did it before. She never accepted it under a gentle radar. Instead, it had her wondering if she had upset you, if you would forgive the crimson melodrama and still take her up on breakfasts at ten when she returned. Regardless if you painted the full picture in the end, apologies spilled alike to winded waters out of this girl; sorry that she still could not stomach you tagging along for vengeance. Never-ending sorries, and you lapped each one up. Brought gaping arms around her and absorbed all the ugly and hopeless sounds. You wanted to prove her fears wrong, but perhaps it was time fear let you be the lamb. Live and let live.

Then, Dina would step in, and Ellie would be wrapped around her finger in sudden laughter. Happy and unhurt. Couldn't even remember what occurred before her sun entered the room, and dried those tears.

Crimson melodrama is all you preserved when abandoned, and is all you could look at her with when in longing.

The winter dance had your guts up to your throat.

Seattle, inexplainable.

You don’t hate Dina; your envy lies with the disconnection of it all.

“What do you recommend?” she questions, and her eyes anticipate you to be the ultimate apocalyptic-dining expert. Locked and attentive. She then begins to shake her head in gesture, planting the menu down. "I don't— I don't usually go to these kinds of places, so.. What do you think?" she awkwardly giggles, tapping the menu's plastic sleeve.

Tension presses a smile onto your lips at her inelegance. "Nobody does, not even people who went to these places before the outbreak," you opine, swapping the notepad to one hand and sliding into the booth. "It's okay. I mean.. hmm, what do you prefer? Sweet or salty?"

Her eyelids flick down, fingers coming to lace together as her eyes traverse the options. "Uh, I guess I— wait, wait," she interrupts herself. A swift finger draws you to look down at the menu, "You guys make pancakes here?" green eyes gaping at you with pupils more voracious than her stomach—or her sweet tooth.

"Yeah."

"I'll have that then."

It was a steadfast verdict. The sweet honey pancakes, she shall have, at the cost of a couple minutes and a couple ingredients. But it isn't traditional for birthdays, so you weigh in. “Just pancakes? I mean.. Faye is back there if you want something a little more celebrator—”

“—I'm not really a blow-the-candles-out and make-a-wish type of person,” she corrects you, brows cinched in as she rambles. Then, her free hand scoots the menu forward. “But you already knew that, you just insist otherwise,” she chuckles, unable to meet eye and eye.

True. Your soft insistence dawns from wanting nothing less than heaven inside everything for her, and maybe a dash of that sweet-sweet crush on her. But, Ellie is so staunch in being the humble girl that doesn't glorify every recorded happening with string lights and a wish hurled into the uncaring universe bent upon nurturing demised, late lights young girls reach for. She kept everything low-key: a small garage get-together on her last birthday, the one before that, and the one predating those two. Alcohol in your palms and movies playing back to back. Budding distorted laughs and tumbles into each other. Birthday things.

The remnants of her fifteen-year-old mind hangs aimlessly inside that museum. Dangled and stretched into archaic bones. On the day of return, she arrived happier than a sunflower drunk on the sun. Broad smiles and whatever else.

Wasn't for long.

“Forget you're so down-to-earth and reserved about all the fun things,” you snarkily deliver, retiring that still empty notepad behind your back. Memory shall serve. “Will that be it then?”

“Are you saying I'm not fun?”

“I'm saying you need more of it.” You emphasize with a tiny bounce-up on your calves, tilting your head north. Though, nothing she uttered was wrong and so your voice silkily drones on, “And that.” You act the lack of a ruder way to insinuate. “But yeah, okay. One order of pancakes coming up.”

“Cool, I'll uh—have a 'celebratory' drink in the meantime?” She nudges the menu towards you once again, irises pulled thin on themselves. Thoroughly staring; your reflection in a bead of black.

You have to laugh, kindly laugh. “No alcohol here, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Her doe-stare only crescendoed from there, shying away at the result of her asking. Something reluctant is lodged in her pale throat, stumbling out only when it feels imminent as you turn away. “D-Do you wanna chat, afterwards? There's so much bullshit surrounding Seattle I have to catch you up on and I-I didn't before, so.."

Swinging your head back, you gauge that mercurial girl there. Tripping up her request like it couldn't escape hibernation from her head any quicker than insult does.

Faye shouldn't mind. “'Course, I was left to wonder about everything since that night anyway.” Your boss might even encourage it; knowing that your long-standing crush for her—heartbreaking to fathom, beautiful to feel—never swept you from rambling Ellie into some fairytale, so she would use it to psych you into asking her out. Jesse, too. Damn the nosy ones!

But it's the one thing that keeps you worried now.

“Cool, cool. Oh, hey, add extra syrup will you?”

What does Ellie think of you?

“Mhm,” syrup is nowhere as sweet as your hum. “Got it.”

Does she think of you at all?

MOUTHS ALL-CONSUMING AND DEPRIVING

Minutes in, minutes out, wallowing at that ruby-red booth fed the realization to Ellie that the nerves feeding off her anxious chest could not combat conversation alone. She needed an aid. Liquid courage. Velvety smooth and robust.

Fortunately for betting gods and heaven-watching anyones, leftover whiskey from the last bonfire made stock in her cloistered, chaotic cabinets. So it founded no surprise that it whirled to mind after the celebratory-drink fact; leading you here, in her bedroom, on her bed. She pours whiskey into stubby glasses, One for her, one for you, and a lucky extra two for further along this unexplored line. Nothing overflowing limits.

But, oh boy, did it make you all lovey-dovey.

Her lips move and they dance over words, but all you hear is your own enamoration of how heart-shaped they are. You see, but fail to hear and comprehend. Floating aimlessly into those freckles, again. Something a fourteen-aged, sanguine mind would do.

Ellie was relaying Seattle to you, she prefaced. Prefacing didn’t aid you in paying attention, though. Today is not your sharpest, it dates to be your most absentminded. Not your usual, at all.

Nods are swayed to every shock-value word that you manage to understand, but the star-crossed rest, you miss, and replace with whatever story her pupils trace. They flit to read your face after each end of her sentences, so it has you thinking too much of her time has slipped without the company of a listener, and now that her time slips into you, she can use it to stretch your expression with whatever witty remark she makes.

She did one day blurt that your laugh compliments your smile—or however that fucking flirt threw it over the crackle of that bonfire.

In fact, when you begin to let parts of her body neck-down from her face distract you, only then do you decipher how much she has grown in a month.

She pitches her drink to sip, and your eyes are hot on that glassy trail, artistically concerned with the way she swills down whiskey: fluently gulped, throat bobbing, the scar on her lip licked clean. Her brows too, have thickened, much so as her leathered skin, her callouses. She traces her thigh in circles repeatedly—a fidgety habit—and her lips purse and tug and wrinkles hug and press said lips when they are prettily wide.

Every high noon or low point of her body was different, and you have missed a great many things you care too much about to not appreciate every brink and midst. You don't want her to be lost to otherworld winds without studying her presence harshly. She is in your scrutiny, now more than ever.

“So, do I get to see my pancakes yet, or?”

“Oh, oops.” You snap out of your woolgathering, wagging your head left to right. Then briskly as you assented her invitation, you slide your knees under you, reorganizing your seating. “Can't blame me for being so invested in your epic tales. Could totally be a comic narrator for the school in town.”

Ellie had already been sat skyward. Sprawled at one leg and tucked at the other, arm in her lap, where her whiskey is nestled. “Oh, sure,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Those kids are a bunch of little shits. They would probably interrupt me with fart jokes or make actual fart sounds than sit still and pay attention for thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” you hum, short and atonal, peeling the corner of the plastic lid back. “And who do you think taught them those terrible jokes, huh?”

Soft lids narrow together to sharpen her gaze; glaring at your clever comment, lips propped slightly open. “Terrible?” An offended, toothy smile pulls on her lips. All sentences she could possibly muster up come crashing into each other; an agglomeration, “I—They aren't bad jokes—and they're puns, really, so they're actually pretty fuckin' smart,” she boasts with brows raised. “And It isn't my fault that every annoying kid picked them up and started repeating them.”

It most certainly is her fault. Hell, even you catch yourself reciting them at the crest of nightfall, giggling into your palm. Although, why she's trying so rigorously to plead her pun-enjoying case to you, might just be funnier. “Are you seriously trying to explain puns to me?”

“God,” she surrenders in a chuckle, and bows her head to introduce another quick sip to her parched lips. Ellie then eyes you for a blank second thereafter, tugging the plump of her lower lip through her teeth. Like contemplation has her hindered.

Around you, the lungs of the garage’s foundation inhale, and exhale; creaking and settling.

She dashes a huff. “You basically asked,” Ellie reminds you, her tone and eye-roll implying obviousness. “Can I eat my pancakes now? M'hungry.” Her face sutures into a pseudo-frown and encloses herself to a crisscross, impatiently behaving.

Now, as for the pancakes. Fluffy, biscuit brown, star-shaped, bountifully rivered in unrestricted syrup, topped off by a definitely-melted, humbled ingot of butter. Needless to say, you're pleased by what boredom and intact cooking-books taught you, and she hasn't even seen them yet.

The ask for a carryout-container was already in order the moment you set pace for her table, because you wound up in a near-catastrophe as she sought you out around the kitchens like a lost pup and maundered right into you. Thank patrol for instincts; it's the one thing you held an undying clutch to. And the sweet pancakes you proudly plated, making refuge on the counters as you cross-examined Ellie in case you injured her arm more.

Lucky girl was all fine and peachy, of course.

She only knocked you two right into that near-injury mess to invite you here. Persuasion sat readily in her throat incase you questioned her motives—most of her ideas turning out to be a little friend-group antic, never anything serious or singular—but you agreed to it in double-time.

“Think you might just be one of those kids at this point.” You gingerly tweak the rim of the plate you kept the pancakes on and lift it outside the container, planting it between all four knees.

“Eh, you're not so innocent yourself,” Ellie contends before she even casts her first peek at the hillock of starry sweetness, totally taken aback when she does. “Holy shit,” she awes, just as if she were a young teen again, “Are you kidding me?”

Labor-intended nights never slip soft through the gaps of your fastened fingers, not even days where your work period is abridged, but hey, strange, space-brain girls are far beyond ordinary exception. Hell, Ellie is vital! Commemorating the red angel you worship in the patterned and soapy act of cooping up on her bed, toasting to the moonlight and letting her talk your ear off for old times' sake is your approach to telling her you love her.

“Know I'm not a pancake-connoisseur, but I gave it a unique whirl. Just for you.” You held a fork out, gracing her with first honors. “Don't blame me if it gives you a stomachache,” your forewarn is a doubtful one; in your mind, morningtime will arise with an extra punch to her gut.

Ellie, however, stares right into the baying eyes of a challenge, snatching the fork from you. "Hey, if it's good enough for my tongue, then it's good enough for ma' gut!" and promptly after exclaim, gashes and tears her fork into the sweet, airy texture of the pancake, popping it past her sweet, berried lips. “Mhh—and I will blame you. So you end up feeling sorry n'take care of me.”

God, whatever souls you would sell to spend paradisal afterlife with this fool. Talking with a gob flush of the birthday project you're humiliated to be proud of. You scoff, “Asshole,” lightheartedly scornful as can be, and it snaps something to mind. Head tilting eye-to-eye, “Dina wouldn't be the one to?” you ask, right after she swallows.

That particular question seemingly struck a chord as her brows cinched together, eyes dropping with allusion. “No,” she says meekly, soft in the sound, but you can tell it came up heavy. Shadowed by a sigh, and an untimely chuckle. “Do you want to know?” She throws on a shrug that ripples through her head, sending it to hang lopsidedly. As the stout willow grows.

“Guess so,” you agree temperately, not wanting to seem too eager—even though with this topic, you just might be. Camouflage those old, foul feelings of envy. “Did Seattle have you kicking more ass than just Wolves and infected? Couldn't have been a very romantic tr—”

“Dina's pregnant.”

Silence carves it's way after that. Thick, tense and unyielding. You had words lined up but like a shot in stark night they've just—vanished, sunk back into the chamber. Nothing prepared you to hear that, “Pregnant?” lowering a hand to your belly where you swear your heart has pummeled to.

Ellie glances up, once at your widened face and once at your hand. A bite of humor works it's way above her chin; smugly smirking. “God, don't tell me you're pregnant now too.”

“What? No!”

Damn idiot. Should punch her right in the—nevermind.

Ellie is way too quick to make serious things unserious. “You're a damn menace,” you unapprovingly giggle.

“Am I?” Amusement raises her brows, tearing into the pancake with her fork for another bite. “Cause you seem to like menace.”

You adjust onto propped elbows, “Do I?” playing all nonchalant. “I mean, what do you mean by that?” your voice dims, expending for the small space that separates you and her.

“Mhh,” she contemplates with a purring sound, and shrugs. “Dunno.” Ellie retreats those eyes downward where you won't compel her to smile. You can tell she battles the letch to look up again, which—as proven in her case—doesn't fucking work. She shoots up carefully, and it's a conflicted gaze this time. “Not with Dina anymore, though. That’s the other thing.”

And we're back.

Having reconciled the chance, you retrace. Look at her with somber concern. “Did something between the two of you happen?” It's a gentle question, reinforced by the bulletproof stare you offer her to unwind in.

The air in her voice softens, “Sort of,” and the meridians of your body then become easier to look at as she continues, wrinkles in her brows. “Said some things I shouldn't have, and we.. figured it best to leave it at that. For now.” her explanation sounds desolate and attemptless, like she has sat in shadow and vigil accepting this fact and has given up on hope. Crestfallen and quieter; this isn't like her. Bent at her wrist, dangling that glass above her crisscrossed lap like a sad child pokes at the food on their plate.

“For now?” You hate that you pry, but that sick greed in your gut from times before haunts with a hunger for knowledge. Your envy that is enlightenment. Still, you hesitate to seem nosy, wanting nothing than to possibly just console your friend in need. “What's holding you back from.. calling it quits? The pregnancy?” You crane your body upright slowly.

“Just still feelin' bad.” Her fingers begin a tap-dance at the glass' rim. “I'm an asshole.”

You duck at the neck, searching for her downcast eyes. “Come on, El. I've only ever seen you rant and rave at middle-aged grumpy men and infected, no way it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there,” she insists otherwise with an earnest voice, inciting a refreshed sigh as she swigs her whiskey.

“Well, what did you say?” You are relentless. No, normally you would not condone it, but tonight, tongues are loose and boundaries are blurry. You miss your happy girl. “I could talk to Dina, if it helps.”

“Wouldn’t change shit.”

“If you love her, you would try.” Even if it sickens you.

Ellie slots her drink in her lap, and grouches. “Dude.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and stifles a groan, frustrated. It draws out in words without proper footing, “It's weird. We just don't know what to say to each other—I don't know what to say to her, it.. it's just how it is—it was a mutual agreement. None of your business, really.”

Her own tongue is a very obvious byproduct of nerves, whiskey, stress, by and large a lot of things. Being goaded, definitely.

How it is, is how it will be.

“She broke up with me.”

You didn't mean to goad her, but curiosity—and a kiss of alcohol and envy—ate your refrain. The lack of any eye contact or movements to stray from you thereafter her word is telling enough. That it aches her head, and a cold, guilty sweat crosses over your skin. It was a stupid thing to blurt. You feel fucking stupid for even saying that.

Fuck.

Her dry sniffle is noisy on your shortcoming, and has you scrambling to think. “Sorry, just been worried for weeks.” But you shrink into a ball of abraded arms and legs, conserving yourself into a shy, spotted egg of curiosity that clads no hatching cracks to be convicted of. “Thought you two finally getting together would be the dream to end all dreams.” What the fuck do you know anyway?

Her eyes watch through you, into you like water; she notices, and the pancakes are slid to the side. Shuffles of fabric clamber closer as she eats the inches between you two, her breath brushing your forehead. “Hey, hey. I didn't mean anything by it. It's fuckin' great that I got somebody I can drink with and mope to. Really. Just been shitty all around—Tommy? Fuck, he's been the worst lately.”

Everything ascends in temperature once her hand plants on the side of your neck, every nerve petrifies; unheard-of touch. She can feel the gasped tension in your throat, thumbing the muscles down.

“Don't worry about it,” she says, and her saying that amuses you.

A moth-eaten phrase in particular is what was said. You scoff at it, plopping your legs back out. “Dude.” You bite a smile into your lips. Sucks that such a hackneyed thread of words does so; you're really chewing back the urge to call her any byname of dumbass, per usual. But damn that sincere face on her face that sweetens the teasing deal for you. You settle for low-hanging fruit. “You always say that, Ellie.”

“Ugh,” she seconded a scoff back at you, grimacing coyly. “Don't you start.” Ellie drags her hand off, not intending for it to land smack-dab on your thigh. It takes her a second to register the sound, the texture, slinking her hand behind her when you say nothing.

“Start what?” you stutter a laugh, bringing your thighs together.

“Nothin,”

“Don’t bullshit me, WIlliams.” To educe her, you dig your foot into her side, poking her. “Does it have anything to do with only me being here and not anybody else?” You lean into her.

Ellie does too, an exact mirror of you. “No..” The only thing that contrasted you, was her hand again, seeking what was left behind on your thigh. “Just wanted to see you first,” her lips barely move besides a slick smirk. Voice tiptoeing through the air, the noise-level two clandestine lovers live at, in secret song.

“You fuckin liar. No hang-outs for weeks before you left and suddenly you want to see me?” You call bull when she relucts to raise her hung head, witnessing the corners of her lip curl. Her head twists away more, and you spearhead the first, little move: tuck that irkful strand of auburn with a single finger. “C'mon.. what is it?”

“Stupid,” she blatantly spits, and at last confronts your face with her puckish one—glimpsing down, and up, and down. Watching her grip flex into your leg intermittently, chewing her lip. “Mhh, maybe 'm starting it.”

Ellie is heart-poundingly close; her breath is now yours to breathe. You whisper, “Maybe you are,” perking yourself right up to her cheek, unnoticing of the ardor her eyes spin over your face. Unsure where to stare. You pretend the pressure on your thigh flies under the radar, too, and that your heart isn't in the middle of a love-logged swell, and your cheeks aren't tender from smirking at the feeling of it perched there. Love-struck death befalls, if else confessed, so you tease, tease, and tease to stomach your excitement. “Maybe, you're stalling on those pancakes because they actually gave you a stomachache. You feeling good?”

Her bitten lips part, and the next sensations you feel—are transcendental.

Wisping whispers so hot, and intoxicating on your skin, you fail to catch her hand coming up from your thigh to clasp your face, or that hers has shifted in front of yours. She breathes out, “Won't you shut up already?” through lips pulled into a smirk, and rushes to press it fondly against your mouth.

You wince—somewhere between an electrified gasp and a reaction of delight—into the kiss she stole, and it only beckons her to starve more for you. The heat of her whiskey breath pours into your mouth, and you drape your eyes closed. Scoring these seconds by, she spends them concentratedly rolling the skin together, others pushing and shying from the kiss, until she stills and bleeds out the pressure in a slow, wet smack. Hazily eyeing you for a response.

Once you feel her no more, your eyes blurrily creak open, and the corners of her lips at soft upturn greet you. Single creases at either side, the few freckles above them outspread.

Judgement renounces you, leaving you with pathetic pickings for reply. You aren't sure what she wants—or needs you to say. “Ellie?” daintily, a mumble flows onto her lips, and is far from a frail sound of concern. Intrigue encapsulates you.

What does this mean?

You think you know, but self-reason has always proven itself to be naive and too eager to trust.

By cruel emotion, she misunderstands you. “Sorry,” she pants out breathlessly, blowing the shape of it into your cleft lips and hovering right upon. Her fingers gouge the fabric clothing your chest, mangling it into her fist—an attempting grasp. This proximity is all she could ever dream of. “Is this okay?” Yet, dreams always sever at the apotheosis. So when she comes in for the second kiss, she wants no more for dreaming; the reality she yawns with hunger into, is insurmountable.

A dewdrop of something cold dribbles between you. Tears.

In turn, you misunderstand her. Using your own stubbornness to create an enigma. To think, that out of the blue, all of this would transpire? After endless wishes unanswered? You doubt it.

You love her, but you refuse the reality of it happening upon you.

Separating from the plush, licked skin of her lips fleetingly, you speak. “Is this you being drunk?” Only to be drawn back in without her processing your words right away, and then drawn back out. Intricate intimacy.

“Please,” Ellie begs, “Answer me, before I feel like an asshole again,” and chuckles sobbingly before her teeth feel rapaciously empty, and cannot tolerate it any longer. Instinct, and teeth nip your bottom, vulnerable lip.

Neither of you could be totally drunk, having only drank a modest portion.

So this is raw.

Thinly pulled, she slowly stretches it across the air between, and watches it spring back beneath eyelids sunken low. The action entails nothing else for her to feed satisfaction from, already panting right in your mouth in search of more as soon as your tongue descries the answer. “More than okay,” you heave in a passioned breath along that all-consuming, deprived mouth. Your hand squeezes her fist confirmingly.

It quenches her lust to know, a hot-blooded, moaned and voiceless curse snapping into your mouth. “I fuckin' love you.” Her rage softens in meeker kisses, peppering them up to the corners of your lips until she pauses, and pulls herself away. Her eyes turn troubled and adrenaline-rushed. Stains of tears shimmer beneath, along new ones that begin to plunge, and for the first time ever, you know they're yours. But then the flesh between frowns, the mood shifting, and she croaks, “Am I.. an asshole?”

It breaks you to hear that.

You glare, and stammer, “W-What? You aren't.” Hooking dearly onto her wrist when her hand glides up to rest against your cheek. “Why?”

“Cause I sprung this on you, 'nd I don't wanna force you to..” Ellie cranks to a halt, mouth screwing shut like her thoughts were too much to bear hearing aloud. “Fuck,” she quietly spews, cowering her face near your neck.

“Said it was okay,” you coo, clarifyingly coo, raking your fingertips up and through the tied loops of her hair. “The only asshole thing you'd ever done was not let me come with you.”

“I know.” Her eyes search for uncomplicated plains. The sheets, her lap, your neck. A kiss is planted as she tips her head, the gust thereafter a warm reminder of her sorries.

“Thought you were going to die.” You awoken in violent patterns, cold nights restless in bed, tossing and turning. Waking and falling into daydreams of how Jackson would feel missing a cardinal component. A girl to rave against dying lights. Thorns scale your throat at the thought. “You're reckless, y'know?” you mean it as a gentle insult, chuckling as it leaves your lips, and sealing it into her scarred palm. Kissing reckless consequences.

Her lips loiter on the pulse of your throat. They drag, and they drag.. sloppily limping over your jaw as she makes her way to observe you in her palm, mumbling low, and gravelly, “How many times am I gonna have to say it?” Ellie deems it redundant to tell you that she knows again, resorting to her own little gentle insult, “Such a fuckin' sap.”

“Says you.”

Her hand is comfortingly warm; you aren't fain to break away. But her fingers are curious, thumb nearly making it into your mouth before she second-guesses herself, easing it at the verge of your lips instead.

A longing moment of Ellie staring at the way her thumb looks—a decoration to your mouth—passes, and she responds, “Still alive, aren't I?” to that loose thread of a plea you forgot you even said. It calls you right over, bidding you to look into her eyes again as space finds itself thinning again, her scratchy, band-aided nose caressing yours. “Dumbass.”

She chuckles into your mouth as you chuckle into hers, cutting yourself off with a kiss that ebbs, and flows. Suckles, and smacks, snaking her tongue in for a change. That sweet, sweet wheat. Saccharinity you can't explore anywhere else other than the outline of her mouth. And you—of grunted volitions in her chest—take exploration further, replacing the grasp of her shoulder with the coursing of fabric, sliding under the hem of her shirt and palming the skin there.

You feel her skin breathe, her belly breathe into your hand, and a content wrinkle pinch between her brows. Her skin, is as soft as nothingness.

“You're a dumbass.”

Air clings to your cheek as her hand reaches around you, pressing fingerprints into the base of your head as to prop you for her delightments. Ellie is no amateur, enjoying you as if she knew you were hers without explicit pledge.

“Sure, babe,” she scoffingly counters, and pulls her tongue out of you, lips messiy shining. She scouts you out; lays eyes on your expression with undertones of satisfaction and presses an appetent bite right back into your damp skin, grunting into the filthy kiss.

Your mind is one-pathed right now; in the most maddened form, you crave the story further down her throat. In that warm space, is air thinned and balmy with the scent of alcohol and syrup. In those whimpers, is the sincere confession she held tight in throatly gloaming, all those intimate times before. In all of your yearnings, your lips never parted for more.

Two holes that want to consume each other.

Weeping, wailing, tormenting in an empty forever.

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you cathartically sob into the humid cavern of her, a hint of wanton—and other repressed things, taking form. That hand under her shirt wanders from her navel and tweaks the button of her jeans, pressing your body against all of her like it hurt to be inside your own, singular body. Overcame by a need you could not chew out.

Ellie cuts the kiss, quick to soothe the movement with her hand pressing down and collecting yours. “Hey, hey, too fast,” she laughs, distancing herself and giving you those eyes that could see you were overstrung, hectic to go somewhere you aren't prepared for.

She loves you, but that means appreciating you enough to wait until time is perfect.

Her head cocks, “Let's take shit slow, huh?” fingers weaving into the pliant gaps of yours and pulling your fist dear to her chin, kissing it.

You speak over the repeated sounds of her smooches, “Yeah, sorry,” cringing slightly at how fucking cheesy the scene became. But, when is Ellie not? Wonder clasps you now; intent to know what this makes out of the two of you, having held your feelings for forever. “Well, what does all this mean, then?”

“It means..” Ellie slants her body even more, stealing your wrist along with her. Planning something, no doubt. “You and me, breakfast tomorrow at ten, Tipsy Bison?” Her mouth stuck to the side of your hand like syrup, so firm in not letting you go.

It makes your ears simmer hearing her shamelessly set up a date, of all things she could have said. God. You errantly laugh, totally not giddy when her mouth starts sprinkling up your arm at an alarming pace. “Sounds more than good—hey! You slow down!”

Happy birthday, asshole.

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 2 months

Text

Chapter II : Guilty as Sin

“If long-suffering propriety is what the want from me—

They don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”

series masterlist Chapter I

pairing: post prison/ cm:evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance, hurt/comfort, fluffy angsty

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, hurt/comfort, harsh words and gossip about reader and Spence; info-dumping Spencer; pet names (angel) possibly eventual smut in later parts, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything and as always, lemme know what you think!

note: still third person pov, but this one is more from the readers perspective. Thinking maybe I’ll go back and forth between chapters if you see a quote in purple it’s readers perspective, if the quote is green it’ll be Spencer’s 🩵

wordcount: 2.1k

Of course, Penelope did not disappoint, popping a tiny confetti popper at the newlyweds as they made their way out of the conference room and into the bullpen, which felt like an awkward makeshift reception. The rest of the team offered playful congratulations, with Alvez going so far as to wolf-whistle and point out the way the couple's linked hands which in turn earned him a swift knock on the back of the head courtesy of Tara. It felt safe and joyous. Y/N tried to smile, hesitantly dropping Spencer’s hand as she collected her things, the anxiety of being away from these people, from her home and normal life, just starting to settle into her chest.

The flight to Seattle was long. Though Y/N had traveled by jet multiple times, it had never felt so massive as she and Spencer sat at the small table combing through the case file in comfortable silence. So far, three couples had been found dead in their quiet Seattle homes. Of the couples, two of the men had been professors at different colleges in the area while the third was the head of a non-profit organization. The women, were all nearly twenty years young and had worked for their husbands in some way before being married. At each crime scene, the unsub left a calling card of sorts. A feather in the hands of the woman and a beautifully written poetic line alluding to the dangers of an “unruly” woman in the hand of the man.

“These cards are beautiful,” Y/N mused, turning the evidence bag with the delicate stationery over in her hands. “Each line is poetic in nature but not quite right. See, ‘Wise men once said Wild winds are death to the candle’? And these feathers?”

“I don’t think any of these are actual published poems, more like plays at various poets' works. But the feather, by the look of it, it looks like it’s possibly from an albatross. They’re seabirds with wingspans that can reach up to nearly ten feet. There are several poems regarding that particular bird. The first one that comes to mind is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of Ancient Mariner,’ in which an albatross is wrongfully shot down because a mariner thought it to be a bad omen. In older mythologies, the albatross was seen as good luck, bringing wind to sailors. In the poem, the mariner is forced to wear the lifeless albatross around his neck in place of the traditional cross.” There’s an excitement in Spencer that y/n hasn’t seen before, the way his eyes light up and his hand flail almost wildly. It’s endearing— cute she would almost say.

“It’s not a super common metaphor, but the albatross is also often used in association with guilt or shame,” Spencer continued, sitting back in his chair, eyes looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Some authors use it to symbolize a curse…sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his curls hanging gently around his face as he dropped his gaze back down to the file on the table.

“No-no, don’t apologize. That was all incredibly fascinating. I knew you are wildly academic, but why exactly do you know all of that about some random bird I’ve never even heard of?” Y/N's tone wasn’t teasing or harsh; it was full of genuine sincerity and curiosity, which took Spencer completely by surprise.

“My mentor… when I started at the BAU, he had a thing with birds,” Spencer chuckled, offering a small shrug as his gaze came back to meet hers. “I guess I just really wanted to impress him.” The jet fell back into a comfortable silence, except for the rustling papers, for another hour until Y/N decided she’d had enough and retreated to the small couch to rest her eyes for a bit.

The drive from the airport to the university was quick. The house they’d been assigned was cute, small, quaint, but certainly big enough for a professor and their spouse to be comfortable. There was an office for Spencer, a decently sized kitchen, and a living room that opened up to a sweet little patio. Truly, there should’ve been no complaints. As Y/N entered the bedroom, she frowned, her go-bag in hand as she shuffled around the nicely sized room, sizing up the singular king-sized bed. A knock at the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts.

Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes falling between the bed and the woman in front of him before nodding. “Don’t worry, you can take the master if you’d like. The office has a pullout, and I really don’t mind.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can sleep here—we can...” her voice going up an octave as she tried and failed to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal, Spencer. We’re both adults.” She shrugged, tossing her bag onto the bed and turning to sit at its foot, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Spencer read her like a book, seeing the young woman in front of him in the midst of a battle with herself, her pride and anxiety both fighting for control, though he knew she’d likely never admit that.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you, though. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a little wave before retreating down the hall.

For the next week or so, the duo did their best to make the space feel like a home. What it lacked in size, it surely made up for it in atmosphere. For a state that had a nasty rap for rain and gloom, it was surprisingly peaceful. There hadn’t been any rain yet, and the summer sun stayed up well into the night. There were moments where Y/N caught herself thinking that had it not been for work, this would be a really nice life.

When the semester started, they fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, Y/N carried the full course load of a grad student, while Spencer spent most of his time tucked away in his on-campus office, prepping lectures and reviewing assignments. At night, the real work would begin as they’d sit at their quaint little dining table with a pot of coffee or take-out containers and go over any developments in the case that the team had found back in DC. In the two weeks they’d been in Seattle, the body count thankfully hadn’t gone up.

As the weeks went on, the rumblings of the new “hot” behavioral psychology professor spread like wildfire. Those rumors were quickly followed by the fact that he was not only married, but his wife was a student. It didn't take long for people to begin connecting the dots. With every professor calling out her name and immediately sizing her up, the other students caught on fast. Of course, after that, y/n became hyper aware the way almost everyone looked at her and the whispers from professors and students alike that she was “the girl,” the reason Doctor Reid had to move out west. She’d expected it from the students; it was incredible gossip that she herself would’ve eaten up back in her first round of university. What she hadn’t expected were the comments made by her partner's new colleagues, whispers usually a little too loud as she’d make her way into a room.

“She really should be ashamed of herself. You know, I heard he only married her to minimize the scandal. I bet he’s miserable.”

On a normal day, the comment would’ve rolled right off her back, she’d file it away with the rest of the case's details. Maybe she was overtired just exhausted from the workload of simultaneously playing a grad student and an FBI agent, but today, she let the words seep beneath her skin, poisoning her mind. She hadn’t stayed for the class, instead turning on her heels, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks as she made her way back to the house. She felt absolutely ridiculous, letting her emotions consume her this way. The words weren’t true, nothing about her current life or situation was true, so why did it hurt so much hearing that people thought Spencer was miserable beside her?

Am I allowed to cry?

When she entered the house, she crumbled against the door, the tears freely flowing as she allowed herself to fall apart in the privacy of the home that was supposed to be empty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as he made his way down the hall. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He froze at the end of the hall, taking in the crumpled form of his pseudo-wife. “W-what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The words came rushing out as he sunk to his knees in front of her, his hands hesitantly reaching out to cup her cheeks, his thumb trying to brush the tears away as quickly as they fell.

“I-I’m fine... You-you weren’t supposed to see this,” she sniffed, trying to pull away, to hide her face in her sweater, but Spencer wouldn’t let that happen. His hand staying planted firmly on her cheek, keeping her in place. “You’re supposed to be in your office...” she said, practically whimpering as another round of tears betrayed her.

“I came home to grab a book and a bite to eat... angel, what’s going on?”

“It’s silly—no, it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t even care, and none of this is real, and I—I...” She caught herself, her breaths coming short and quick, but Spencer didn’t move. He sat, patiently waiting for her to continue. “I know that it’s a story, that I am not really your wife, that you were never really my professor, and that six months ago you didn’t even know who I was.” Finally, she took a deep breath, her hand slowly taking his from her cheek and holding it in both of hers in her lap. “But it’s so awful, Spence... I’m just so tired of hearing how I’ve ruined your life, that I’m using you, that...” The last words caught in her throat as another silent sob racked through her body. “...that you’re miserable.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Do I look miserable? No, I don’t think I do and if I do, I sincerely apologize, I think it just may be my resting face.” his voice dripped the kind of sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “You’ve got a good face Spencer, not too miserable…”

Spencer chuckled, taking the compliment with a little nod, as he offered her hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, you’re going through this seemingly alone, and if it would make you feel any better I can have a conversation with the other professors… and though I’ve never been in your exact position, I do remember what it was like to constantly be torn down by everyone around you. You’re allowed to cry, angel, allowed to feel all of the things you’re currently feeling. And while I might only be your temporary husband, I did sign that paper, and I do promise to take care of you and make you smile and protect you from every awful thing I can’t control outside that door. Okay?”

She nodded, her gaze falling to their joined hands in her lap as the last of her tears stained her now rosy cheeks.

“I’m going to need a verbal response, angel.” His tone shifted; it wasn’t quite as delicate or gentle as his previous vows had been, but it was just stern enough to draw her gaze back up to his.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

“Y-yes. Okay.” With another nod, she took her hand from his, dragging it down her dampened cheeks. “I’m sorry about all this.” She offered him a small smile and a shrug. “I swear I’m not usually like this—”

“Stop it. There is nothing to be sorry about.” He rose to his feet, his hand immediately reaching out to help his partner up. “Now come on, I’ve got classes to cancel, and we’ve gotta get you cleaned up. I think we deserve to take the rest of the day off.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you—are you proposing we play hooky this afternoon?” Y/N clutched her metaphorical pearls, mock shock consuming her features. Spencer rolled his eyes, a genuine chuckle passing his lips as he shook his head.

“What can I say, we’ve been here—what, going on three weeks? I think we deserve to see the sights. And besides, how else am I gonna show the world just how miserable I am by your side?” He teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “Now come on, seriously, up, moving. Let’s go, I’m taking you out.”

“If it’s make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?”

Chapter III: So High School

taglist: @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @herbookgarden @guiltyyassin

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds posting #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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seeingivy · 9 months

Text

fine line

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content warning: mentions of SA, addiction, bad workplace environments, shitty adults - protect your peace my babies

an: one I saved sparks for the next chapter so I don't like give someone a heart attack. and brace yourself pookies. this ended up at 16k. also, lmk if the format is confusing. but any memory that's embedded between dialogue is basically being shown in the video - it just makes more sense for me to write it as a visual

songs mentioned: ever since new york by harry styles, clean by taylor swift, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift, and fine line by harry styles

previous part linked here

Tell me something, tell me something You don't know nothing, just pretend you do I need something, so tell me something new Choose your words 'cause there's no antidote For this curse Oh, what's it waiting for? Must this hurt you just before you go?

Eren lets the video play for a whole minute before he abruptly reaches for the remote from your hand and stops the film from playing. The song is burning in his ears - the clip of him blowing out the candles at his tenth birthday party searing his eyes - and the increasing, immense pressure that’s been building, ever since you came back to set, comes to a head in that second.

So much so, that he has to stop the video. Like fully, take the remote from your hands and pause the video. And when he realizes what he’s done, looking over to his side and finding your wide eyes staring at him, and he swallows the lump of shame that’s in his throat and makes his best attempts to back track.

He’s already messing this up. Royally.

“Right. I’m sorry, Y/N. Here.” he murmurs, placing the remote back in the space between the two of you, as he nervously interlocks his own fingers within each other.

Eren’s mind is in a hundred places right now. Granted, he’s always been one to be stuck where he shouldn’t be, but the regret is scorching deep through him now.

Maybe he should just tell you straight out. Or take you to Seattle now so that you could all talk about it in person. Or he could have asked Connie to stay, just so that he had some type of moral support instead of your big doe eyes waiting for answers, but-

“Are you okay, Eren?” you ask.

Eren looks over, mustering his best peachy smile, as he shakes his head.

“No. I’m fine! I just…had a muscle spasm…. You can play it, it’s just-”

You squint your eyes in response to his shitty defense, which Eren was expecting, because you were always acutely aware of how Eren was feeling. He was almost convinced that you could read his mind at times, that maybe some part of how he grew up left that part of him underdeveloped, that made him so soulless and unaware when it came to other people.

Or that really, some part of you still understood him in the way you always seemed to be able to. In a way that no one else really had. Because few could bear close to you - Lana and Connie, even Sukuna to some extent - but there was just something about you specifically that saw him exactly how he was.

That you always knew his intentions, that he almost never had to say them to you. He never had to explain that big mess that was going on in his head because you were always filling the gap and settling it down before he could even get it out. Like there was some secret language being spoken between the two of you every time you made eye contact.

He’d figure that this part of the two of you - he had all but demolished it the second he opened his mouth back in Seattle. But it remains whole and intact and is extremely bad for that flaring hopeful feeling that he gets when he’s around you again.

That the two of you could return back to what you were before, in some shape or form.

Eren sighs.

“I’m sorry. I just…got overwhelmed for a second. You can play the video. I-I promise I won’t pause it this time.”

Your eyes soften - and Eren’s heart twinges - as he musters a smile for you.

“Are you okay to be watching this with me? I can always watch it alone, Eren.”

“Yeah, I-”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable…granted, I’m not sure exactly what it is that I’m watching, but if this…makes you anxious than I don’t want to force you to stomach it just for me.”

Eren’s heart twinges. That you’re still the same as he left you, so loving that it’s flowing out of you.

“It’s not just for you. Not that I’d be opposed to doing it but-”

Eren swallows hard.

“I should be here, Y/N.” he murmurs.

“Okay. Well-”

“And you’re watching a movie. A documentary feels like…the wrong word for it? But I guess that’s what it is?” Eren murmurs.

“A documentary?”

Eren swallows hard.

“Do you remember that interview you did? When you became a triple threat?” Eren asks.

You nod.

“This is like if I did the interview. Like songs, album, the whole thing. And if other people were involved. And-”

“Album? You made an album, Eren?” you ask, suddenly excited at the prospect of it.

Eren was never one to push too hard into music, since he felt that his talents clearly resided in acting. The few times that he had written something was because certain things, mainly you, had left him so inspired and your little rambligns and notes had rubbed off on him.

And when he missed you terribly, it seemed that the only thing that seemed to remedy it in some sense was writing songs about it. Granted, Lana almost kicked him out of her house for the sad piano he always seemed to be playing, which she claims wasn’t a good influence, but it made a good backtrack for the movie.

“Yeah, well. You’re quite the inspiration.” Eren respond.

You roll your eyes, lightly reaching over to shove his shoulder. Except he grabs your hand right before you can, his eyes fixed on his hand all but engulfing yours.

“I’m being serious. You-you’re the only reason that I wanted to do this. That I was able to.” Eren whispers.

You tilt your head to the side.

“You’ve always been like this. So…adamant on the side of talking about things. About not holding it in. I remember when you did the whole “The Man” thing with Historia you literally had me scared shitless. That people were going to put your head on a stick and start coming for you.”

“I remember. But they didn’t and-”

“And then you did the same thing with Lana. About Ricky - and you don’t even know the half of it when it comes to that guy. You’ve proven it to me time and time again. That maybe…talking things out is the best way to do it. And granted, I’ve taken so long to get to that point but I-”

“It’s okay. I just-”

“It’s not okay. I want you to know that I don’t think what I did was right in any way. I literally made the wrong decision at every turn, and hurt you because of it, and I’m so sorry that I did because you have to know that you mean-”

Eren freezes, as you wrestle your hand out of his, and place both of your hands firmly on his shoulders.

“Eren. Just…stop panic explaining. Let me listen first.” you murmur.

“I know. Sorry, you’re right, I just-”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure this is nerve wracking in ways that I can’t understand.” you respond.

“You’ve always understood me.” Eren murmurs, immediately regretting it the second it leaves his mouth.

Eren watches as you smile at him, soft and all the way up to your eyes, as you let go and reach for the remote. You give him a nod as you unpause the video again to a clip of Eren.

At his tenth birthday, blowing out the candles, while he sings in the background.

Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know

The video starts the last place you expect it. With Zeke sitting in front of the camera, hand knotted together in the same way you’ve seen Eren’s a hundred times, as he retells the story of the day his grandmother passed away when Eren was eleven and Zeke was seventeen.

After forty-five minutes, Eren has definitively decided that he hates hospital. The anti-septic smell seems to bite at his nose, the receptionist keeps eyeing them awkwardly over the top of her desk trying to pinpoint where it is that she knows him from, and his parents and Zeke are uncharacteristically silent.

Eren reaches for Zeke’s wrist, which Zeke welcomes with a smile, as they both nervously eye their parents at their side. Eren’s not entirely sure why - since to his understanding, his grandmother is still alive for right now - but his mom has been crying for a better half of the past day, while his dad holds down the fort and does his best efforts to keep it together. Eren appreciates the small smiles that he spares for the two of them every now and then, as they all sit quietly in the waiting room.

Zeke taps Eren on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow him for a walk, which Eren is all but happy to oblige in, as the two of them quietly make their way down the ward.

“Where are we going?”

“Cookies. They have them out for New Year’s Day, Eren.” Zeke responds, looking down to give him a smile.

Eren frowns, forgetting that the start of the new year was so close, as they walk into the little aisle. The room is decorated with hanging lights, left over from Christmas, as the two of them sit on the chairs and split the hard, crumbly cookies between the two of them.

“Is grandma going to die or something?” Eren asks, swinging his legs off the tops of the tall chair as he leans back.

“I don’t know, Eren. Maybe.” Zeke responds, swallowing hard.

“Oh.”

“There’s no need to be sad about it before it happens. But Dad told me earlier, it would probably be today or tomorrow so…you should be aware of that.” Zeke states.

Eren frowns. And Zeke recoils, at his rather blunt way of telling Eren the harsh news.

“He didn’t tell me that.” Eren states.

“Well, you’re younger, Eren.” Zeke responds.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve to know.”

Zeke brings his hand down on Eren’s hair, ruffling with it as he looks out the window.

“That’s why I told you, kid.”

Eren sighs.

“Thanks.”

Zeke shakes his head, as he gestures for Eren to join him at looking outside. The hospital workers are taking down the tree outside, as the two of them rest their windows against the sill and watch the snow fall down.

“Can we have hot chocolate when we go home?” Eren asks.

“You’re old enough to make your own hot chocolate, Eren.” Zeke deadpans.

“But you just make it so much better. Plus, don’t you want to be a good older brother?” Eren asks, giving him his best peachy smile.

“I am a good older brother.”

“You know what would make you even better?”

Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Hot chocolate?”

Eren fakes a gasp.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind! That’s a great idea, Zeke.” Eren responds.

Zeke shoves Eren as the two of them laugh, reaching for another one of the hardened cookies on the platter. And that’s when they’re met with the flash of the camera and three paparazzi standing right behind them. Zeke turns around, entirely confused, as they shove the microphone into his face.

“Zeke. Are do you have any comments on the rumors that you’re a drug dealer?”

“The rumors that I’m what?” Zeke asks.

Eren looks up at Zeke, entirely floored by the question, as the bright lights shine in his face a few more times. Zeke’s standing in front of him, basically obscuring his line of vision, as he watches the confusion spread on Zeke’s face and the way his jaw is tightly held against his skull.

“A drug dealer. Through the funds in your back accounts?”

“That’s not what I used them for. I used them for-”

Eren watches Zeke’s face pale, as he grabs Eren’s hand tightly by the wrist and runs back into the waiting room where their parents are sitting. Except when they reach that spot, the doctor they’d seen hours prior is standing there with them, uttering the last words that Zeke could possibly want to hear at this moment.

“We’re so sorry for your loss but-”

And he’s cut off abruptly, by the paparazzi, who continue to flash more pictures as the Eren takes in the words, his parents crying demeanor, and understands in full that his grandmother is gone. And looks up at Zeke, unable to recognize his older brother for the first time. So meek, so awkward unlike he’s ever seen him.

The video cuts off of the pictures of the four of them - of their pink faces and teary eyes in that waiting room - and back to Zeke, as he continues to explain.

“That was the first time that the rumor had come to the surface, reached me in full. I later found out that there had been multiple reports of it for three days prior, that people had been speculating for days and days, and chose to finally ask me what I had thought when I was in the most headline worthy position. A few feet away from my dead grandmother. And my beloved little brother.” Zeke adds.

You feel Eren shift next you as the video switches, this time to Sukuna. You smile, not having seen him or heard of him in so long, sparing a good thought from the writhing in your chest at the previous story. The mere presence of him, of his voice, makes your chest rumble.

“My name is Ryomen Sukuna. And I met Scott Clarkson for the first time when I was fifteen.”

Sukuna tries his best to not be jealous of his brother. He’s always hated that sick, rotting feeling in his stomach, and he despises that it comes up so unexpectedly, something so negative towards someone who is so unwholly undeserving of it.

Sukuna always thought it was quite ironic that the two of them were siblings. They were such polar opposites - Yuuji being the picture-perfect, kind, intelligent person that he was. Being those things, so good, it just came so naturally to him that he made it look effortless.

Meanwhile, Sukuna wasn’t quite sure why he acted the way he did sometimes. Sukuna knew that he wasn’t a malicious or evil person, that deep down his intentions were always well meaning, but there was a small part of him that had always struggled with that part. He knew that he wasn’t a visicous dog, but he wasn’t sure why he bit.

It was just so hard for Sukuna. Being kind. Effortlessly kind, compassionate, and warm. He’d always say too much, be too loud, or too rude or impolite that it made it made him feel like some part of him was defective. That unbeknownst to other people, who just assumed that Sukuna was just like this, that he was hateful at heart, there was always a withstanding weight of guilt that he held with him wherever he went.

Until he saw an opening. At one of those god awful, stupid networking events that he was always forced to go to.

“Are you Ryomen Sukuna?”

He looks up to find an adult, mid-forties, looking down at him. He’s wearing a nice, pressed down suit as he joins Sukuna on the floor, where he’s been demolisihing the cookie he was given into a crumbled up, chocolate mess.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Sukuna falls into silence, as he tries his best to awkwardly shuffle his mess to the side and be as professional as he could.

“You have a brother, correct?” Scott asks.

Sukuna sighs, knowing all too well what’s coming next.

“Yes, that’s right. He’s over there, standing with the tall, black-haired kid. Kinda sea urchin-y if you ask me.” Sukuna responds, pointing over to the two of them standing by the lemonade.

Scott shrugs, crossing his hands together in his lap.

“Tell me about his work ethic.” Scott asks.

“Well, he’s great. He’s basically the best person to be around - I mean he’s intelligent, smart, and talented. There’s a reason that he’s in almost every movie that you see. And on top of that, he’s extremely patient and kind too. You’d be lucky to work with him, if that’s what you’re considering.”

Scott looks over at him, eyes narrowed.

“That’s your mistake, kid.” Scott states, the look in his eyes cold.

“What do you mean?”

“You should be marketing yourself. Not your brother.” Scott asks.

Sukuna turns his head to the side, confused.

“What? But you asked?”

“That’s the thing. Even if someone asks about him, you should always divert the attention. To yourself. Granted, this is the reason that he’s the one who just starred in a movie while you’re waiting during the Jujutsu Kaisen hiatus.”

Sukuna frowns, an acidic feeling crawling down the length of his throat.

“Well-”

“I’m just saying, kid. You should learn to advocate for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with pushing a few people around, because that’s kind of what this industry requires. You’ve got guts and talent, more than you’re wish washy brother I’m sure of it. I mean, the whole good boy bad boy thing has worked well for you so far, but if you want any chops at a real career, with people like I’ve worked with, you’ll have to solidify on these types of things.” Scott states.

Sukuna looks straight across at the movie poster splayed on the wall. With “Institute Award Winning” and “Scott Clarkson” inscribed in it at the bottom.

“Granted, you’re just a kid. You need someone to give you this kind of advice, an adult who knows their way around the industry. If you ever need my help, you know who to call. I could give you any type of role. Even one as the lead, as the hero, if you ever wanted it.” Scott states, sliding a silver business card into his hands and shuffling off the floor to walk away.

The video cuts back to Sukuna, cracking his fingers as he talks - something you know well is a nervous tick of his.

“The conversation seems quite ironic in hindsight. Scott Clarkson was the first adult in my life, one of many, that didn’t have my best interests at mind. And is most surely the last person you should take advice from.” Sukuna states.

The video switches to Lana - and your heart clenches again, maybe even more than it did for Sukuna - at her long, brown hair and warm, pink cheeks smiling into the camera. You notice that she has a tattoo inscribed on her forearm now, a tiny little teddy bear just above the crease of her elbow, where you and Eren have your fish tattoos.

“I’ve dreamt about being in love since I was a little kid. There was a part of me, that yearned so hard, wanted it so bad, that I would do anything for it. Even convince myself it was real.”

Lana was convinced, for a fact, that because she had seen the worst of the worst, that she could only be subjected to the best of the best.

That she had been so acutely aware, known from such a young age, all the signs of a terrible marriage, a loveless relationship. That you should always thank each other for the small actions, make time to see each other at least once a day, and that a true, earnest relationship takes honest work. Real effort.

And she wasn’t exactly religious per say. But after the night had settled down, the screaming behind her door ceasing in full, she’d lift her head to the sky and whisper it into the air. Because if she put it out there, every night, and wanted it really badly, that it would happen. That manifestation or some higher power or some law of attraction - that saw that she had been through the bad so she deserved the good - would hear her out.

And when she was nineteen years old staring at the two little lines on the pregnancy stick, she realized that no such thing existed. That manifestation was made up, that the higher powers didn’t exist or they hated her, or that maybe she had done something really horrible, so malicious, that she had to be tortured in this life for what she had done in the previous.

Because, of course, she’s pregnant with the last person she’d ever want her kid to have as a father.

There’s an incessant pounding on the door, as she wipes the tears off of her face, and hides the stick in the bowl of the toilet.

“What the fuck is taking you so long, Lana?”

“Nothing, Ricky. I think I might have a stomach bug or something.” she responds, swinging the door open to his unamused face.

He looks up at her, almost sneering, before glancing at her up and down. He returns to aimlessly scrolling on his phone, before talking again.

“Well, you’re still well enough to go out tonight, right? Because I don’t want to go to the bar alone.”

Lana swallows hard, debating her options.

“Um, well-”

“Because I could easily take someone else.” Ricky states.

“No! I’ll come, it’s just that-”

“Perfect! You’re the best.” Ricky states, pressing a kiss to her cheek before padding out of the room.

The video switches again, this time to Connie, slightly blurry through the tears in your eyes. You only realize you were crying because Eren’s hands are quick to swipe the tears away and hold a tissue out for you at your side.. You’re not sure what caused it exactly - the thought of Ricky or of Lana so scared alone in that bathroom by herself - but Eren keeps his hand on your shoulder, grounding you into the moment to focus on what Connie was saying.

“When I was a kid, my mom used to kind of parrot the same stories about me as a kid to every person that she knew. I always used to make fun of her for it, claim that she harped on those four or five stories so hard because she couldn’t remember anything else substantial from my childhood, which was why she felt the need to always tell those embarrassing stories about me.”

Connie breaks a smile, it reaching all the way to the crinkles in his eyes, as he continues.

“But there’s one story that she told, that always used to make me a little bit happy. My heart a little warm, if you will. My mom always proudly recounted, with her hand placed over her heart, that I was the happiest baby. That my doctor had mentioned to her that it was very rare for him to see babies who smiled, so quick in their first day of life, but I had done it when he walked into the room. And since then, my mom has always lovingly called me her smiley boy.” Connie states.

Connie drops his smile, before swallowing hard.

“Which is how I know that I wholeheartedly broke her heart when she came to see me in rehab.”

At the one month mark of being there, Connie was slowly but surely acclimating to the life in the rehab ward. The set routine of the place, the small activities that they did in groups, were quickly starting to grow on Connie and the physical effects of his body fighting against him lessening more every day.

Today was a big achievement for him. He had finally made it through his first night of soundless sleep. And he was looking forward to today, which was Friday, meaning that Eren and possibly Lana would be visiting him. And they’d be so excited, so happy that it was working for him, that he wanted to tell him the second that he got there.

So when the clock hit two o’clock, he excitedly walked in the visiting room to find Eren sitting there, with his steaming bowl of ramen that Eren had promised he would bring him next time. Connie finally understood why you fell in love with him all of those years ago. He’d marry Eren too if it meant he would cook for him all the time.

“Hey Connie.” Eren states, sliding the bowl over to him.

“Eren Bear-en. Where’s Lana?” he asks.

“Right. She’s here. In the waiting room.” Eren states.

“What the hell is she doing out there? Laying eggs?” Connie asks, splitting the chopsticks in his hand as he opens up the bowl.

“Yes, actually. The kitchen came by and told her they were short.”

“Don’t even joke about that because those bitches are crazy. I asked for an extra Jello and from the looks they gave me you’d think I was asking to be their…sperm donor or something.”

Eren snickers, before getting an intense look from the guards on the wall for disrupting the silence, and looking back at Connie.

“No. No, she’s actually keeping your mom some company.”

Connie pales.

“My mom is here?” he states, his voice grating in his throat.

“Yeah, Connie. She doesn’t want to push and-and- she’s more than willing to go home if you’re not ready to see her yet, man. She just really insisted and she means so well that we just brought her along.” Eren states.

“Have you been talking to her?” Connie asks.

“Oh, yeah. She called us almost two days after you got here. We let her know what was happening and she comes by the house a lot. She asks about you the second we get back.” Eren responds.

“Really?” Connie asks, warm tears filling his eyes. Of agonizing, burning regret.

“Really. She’s been waiting till you seemed better, that you were ready to see her. And you don’t have to worry that she’s judging you or upset with you, man. She feels the same as Lana and I do, you- she shouldn’t be a reason for your stress. Or guilt.” Eren adds, emphasizing it as hard as he can so as to convince Connie to at least let her through.

Connie pauses, the thoughts swimming to his mind. The overwhelming regret, that his mom has suffered all the way to meet him here, that she was ready to be at his side, the same way Eren and Lana had. He’s almost grateful that she hadn’t seen him at the worst of it - that he hadn’t shouted choice words at her like he had at Eren and Lana and you - but the embarrassment of having to recount all of that to her was daunting.

But the thought of seeing her again, hearing that she was out there waiting with that heathen Lana, warmed that deep seated love for her in his stomach. That was yearning to see her, to tell her what had happened to him too.

The latter feeling beat out the former one. Which is why he let Eren bring her in with Lana, as she took a cautious seat at his side and Lana slid into the one next to Eren.

“Hi Connie Bear!” Lana states, reaching over to squeeze his hands.

“Hi Lana Bear.” he respond, lifting his hand to do his little hand shake with Lana, which always earns him an eye roll from Eren.

“Bear?” Connie’s mom asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Ah. It’s just a little joke that we have. Eren Bear-en started it.” Connie states, giving him mom a smirk.

His mom smiles, looping her arm through Connie’s, as she lightly laughs into the quiet air.

“Funny. So what would I be?”

“Mama Bear. Obviously.” Connie states.

She pauses, pressing her hand to Connie’s shoulder.

“How are you, Connie? Really?”

Connie smiles, leaning forward on the table and nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“I have some good news actually. For all of you.” Connie responds.

“What’s that?” Eren asks.

“I know that it doesn’t seem like a big deal and all and that people do it all the time but…today was the first night that I slept all the way through without waking up in the past month. In the past year actually.”

Lana and Eren’s eyes immediately light up, which has Connie smiling, as the two of them run over to the side of his table and wrap his arms around him. His mom’s looped into his side, the three of them crushing him in the warmest, softest hug known to man.

“Connie! We’re- fuck. I’m literally crying. I’m so happy for you, kid.” Lana states, reaching forward to pinch the softness on his cheek.

“Okay, you sap. It’s not all that.” Connie responds.

“No but it literally is, Connie. This is huge.” Eren responds, squeezing his shoulder hard.

Connie turns to his mom noticing that she’s been trying her best efforts to quiet her sobs. Connie places a hand on her shoulder, burning with regret, at her downtrodden face.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Connie. My sweet, smiley boy. I’m so happy for you.”

It’s enough to break his resolve, one that he’s been keeping together since he realized that he had all but gone through Jean and Mikasa’s engagement high. And cries straight into her arms, with Lana and Eren across from him, lightly tapping his feet under the table in support.

The video switches, this time to Eren, as you prepare yourself for whatever you’re about to hear next. Because if the previous four were gut punches, you know for a fact that whatever Eren is about to say is going to ruin you.

“Being in love is a privilege.”

You take a sharp inhale.

“There’s something so strange about it, when you think about it. That there can be two people, who share those feelings at the same time. That they overcame something, deeper than rejection or fear, because the feelings were so big, they were so great, that they just had to. And that the person, they really and truly reciprocated it.”

Eren smiles, so wide that his dimples are showing.

“It’s a privilege to be in love. But it’s an even bigger one to be in love, to be loved, by someone like Y/N L/N.”

Eren and Jean, with their ears all but pressed to the door, hear the three knocks and wrestle over each other to open the door. You’re standing there, sheepish and meek as you look down the hall, and Eren reaches for your bag on the floor. Jean gives the two of you a salute, which you laugh at, and which consequently has Eren smacking his hand over your mouth for, as the two of you quickly switch spots.

WIth Jean in your room and you in his. Eren quickly shuts the door, setting your stuff down, as you two give each other excited smiles.

“That was super sneaky, Eren. Like Bond level.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“Right. The two feet in between our doors was so treacherous.”

You smack his shoulder.

“Okay, bitch. You know nothing of my perilous travels. The floorboard creaked. I could hear Levi rustling in his sheets, I swear to god.”

Eren drags your stuff into the room, as he places your bag on the bed.

“What do you have in here? Your entire closet? Why is this so heavy?”

“Well, I had to bring my night time skincare. And my morning skincare. And sometimes I get snacky at night…and my blanket obviously. And my shampoos. Those are non-negoitable.” you respond.

“Well we can’t have you getting split ends now!” Eren responds, sarcastically.

“Don’t even sass me right now because I could go bald without that shampoo.”

“And I have a blanket.”

You scoff.

“I don’t want your cooties, stinky.”

“I don’t have cooties. And mind you, you have to kiss me in a few weeks. My cooties are going to be all up in your face, Y/N.” Eren responds.

“That sounds gross, Eren. Like you’re purposely infecting me with your disease.”

“I’m not infecting you with anything! I don’t even have cooties, you idiot!”

You feign hurt, frowning at him, as you fight the urge to laugh and muster the most important performance of your life yet.

“Eren?” you whisper.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” you murmur.

You watch Eren’s eyes go wide, almost frazzled, as he reaches forward and cups the side of your cheek, the look in his eyes so painful that you immediately feel bad.

“Y/N. Of course, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You’re like…the smartest person I know. Really.”

“Eren-”

“I’m so sorry I said that. I was just kidding, but that was a really stupid joke to make. I haven’t and won’t ever think that about you. Or say it again. You’re so-”

“Eren.”

“And I swear, I’m not going to say anything like that ever again. I know how shitty it can be, especially coming from a guy, and you’re working so hard to be here, more than anyone else, even though your basically the best one and-”

“Eren, oh my gosh, you’re so sweet. I was just kidding, I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” you respond, frowning at him as he looks at you, shoulders relaxing under his touch.

His cheeks are dusted a warm pink, the color trickling down the length of his neck.

“Oh. Wait, really?”

“I was just trying to see what you would say. I wasn’t expecting that and now I feel really, really bad. I’m sorry, Eren.”

Eren sighs, laughing as he reaches forward to pinch your cheek.

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“I didn’t mean it!” you whine, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

“You put that stupid little cute frown on your face and make those sad eyes at me and just expect me to keep fighting with you?”

“Well, yeah! Jean and Connie would fight with me for the rest of their life if they could.”

Eren reaches forward, pinching your cheek once more.

“That’s your mistake.”

“What is?”

“Thinking that you and I are the same as you and Connie. Or you and Jean.”

You feel your cheeks burn, as you nod, reaching for your bag and heading straight into the bathroom to arrange everything on the counter. You start your nightly routine, braiding your hair and placing the little foam headband in your hair as you start to massage all the cleansers and serums into your skin.

Eren pads in after a few minutes, reaching for his toothbrush, as the two of you move around each other in silence. Eren can’t help but watch you in the mirror - with all your little bottles and sweet smelling lotions, so focused as you go about it - that he can’t help but think that he could watch you forever.

“Eren?”

Eren immediately breaks out of his almost trance, spitting into the sink.

“Yeah?”

“You should wear this while you brush your teeth. It’ll keep your hair out of the way.” you respond, handing him a little blue foam headband just like your pink one.

“Huh?”

“Well, your hairs getting kind of long. And Levi told me that he actually wants it even longer for next season a few months ago, so I ordered you one too when I got mine. I keep forgetting to give it to you.” you respond, placing it front of him.

Eren lifts it in his hands, utterly touched at the fact that you had thought of him.

“You- you got this for me?”

“Well, yeah. I kept getting my bangs wet whenever I washed my face. And you basically look like a shaggy dog with that hair so I knew for a fact that you’d need one too. I’m basically the best friend ever if you think about it.” you respond, giving him a peachy smiile.

“You are.”

The video cuts back to Eren, a soft smile on his face as he talks.

“People will take advantage of anything, in the name of business. It’s an easy way in once you find out how to manipulate someone, to make them do things that they would never do normally, to get the exact image that you want. The one that makes headlines, stirs up controversy, to get you trending.”

“You find out that things function very specifically when you work at Stone Studios. And that Scott Clarkson, and his associates, make money from every aspect of the production. He makes money from the movies that he produces and more importantly, from the tabloid company that he owns.” Sukuna starts.

Sukuna sighs, as the pictures flash on the screen.

“Certain things are…manufactured or at least the people doing them are coerced into doing things that are lucrative. Like doctoring drama around certain movies, so that by the time the movie comes out, the drama surrounding it will drive everyone to watch it. Around relationships - because rumors regarding ex-boyfriends and problems between friends create headlines that everyone will click.”

Sukuna’s furious. And when Hyla walks in the room - the three weeks he’s been holding onto his anger - come to a head.

“Who did you tell?” Sukuna asks.

She looks up at him, eyes wide in confusion, as she slouches straight into the bed and continues to scroll on her phone. He joins at her side, reaching for her phone and putting it to the side.

“I’m being serious. Who did you tell?” he asks.

She looks up at him, her expression bordering between bored and oblivious.

“Who did I tell about what?”

Sukuna sighs. Because deep down, that deep rot of feeling betrayed has been gnawing at his stomach for the past few hours. And he wants everything in him, every part of him to believe that the conversation that he had a few days ago - the first real one he’d had in a while - wasn’t just spread all over every magazine he walked past on the way home.

“The conversation we had. About…”

She rolls her eyes, sitting up as she crossed her legs.

“About what? We talk about a lot of things.” she murmurs.

“Yuuji…” he responds.

“Oh! About how you hate him?” she asks.

Sukuan sighs, frustrationg growing up at the premise. At the callousness in her statement. Because not only did she put up a front in the conversation they had - about how guilty Sukuna felt about harboring some negative feelings towards Yuuji since they were always in constant competition - but she was surely the one who must have whispered the story to someone who had given it to a tabloid.

“I don’t hate him, Hyla.”

“No, no I get it. You’re like jealous of him and stuff because he gets all these versatile roles and you basically keep getting the same asshole role. But that’s not your fault, it’s just how it goes.” she responds, shrugging.

He clenches his jaw.

“I get that. I just don’t get why you had to tell someone else.”

“Well, I just told my dad. And you know how he is. If there’s something that’s going to be good for the business, he’s always been the kind of guy to go for it and do what needs to be done.”

“What the hell is so lucrative about my relationship with my brother? We’re filming a fucking movie.”

She sighs, cracking her knucles before she turns to him.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you a secret, but only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Well, I’m not just going to stop being mad at you. I’ve never told anyone that. Let alone my own brother, whose probably finding out about it from a fucking tabloid right now. I’ve never been one - nor am I ever going to be - someone who steps on their own family members to make it in this fucking business.” he states.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Family is everything to you and I get that.”

He sighs, sliding open his phone to the five unread messages from Yuuji on his screen. There a set of pictures of him in front of the headlines at the store and he’s quite literally laughing at the fact that someone could even come up with something so stupid about him.

Because despite it all, Yuuji is exactly what Sukuna says he is. He is the better brother - by tenfold - because he sees the rumors and doesn’t even believe them the second he reads them. Even through they’re true.

“See. He’s such a good guy, he’s not even mad! No harm done!” Hyla states, smiling to herself.

Sukuna leans back against the headboard, fully bothered, so much so that it makes his skin itch, by Yuuji’s texts as he halfheartedly murmurs.

“What were you going to say? Earlier?”

“Oh. Well don’t tell anyone. Especially not the girls okay, because they’d basically kill me. But you know WBS? The tabloid company?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

“My dad owns it. That was actually his original venture. He started it with these two music producers - Danny and Sareen - they work with that Y/N girl from Attack on Titan actually. And sometimes they just kind of….fabricate stuff for news. Whatever sells right?”

Sukuna swallows that bitter, acidic feeling in his throat. That his feelings about his brother, that he shared in confidence, were good enough for the headline.

Good enough to be sold out.

The camera switches back to Sukuna, sitting in the chair.

“I feel kind of stupid in hindsight. For actually liking her, I guess. For believing that any of them were real, earnest people. I’m embarrassed that I stayed for so long, on the premise that I was fighting for something real.” Sukuan states.

“What made you leave?” the producer asks.

“The last shred of self-preservationist instinct I had. I was put into a situation, multiple times, where I felt unsafe. And when it went too far, I decided that I had enough. And that I was going to go out with a bang if I had to. If they want a headline, I’ll damn well give them one.” Sukuna states, smirking.

“You felt unsafe?” the producer clarifies.

“Look. I don’t need to rehash the details out of what happened. I’m sure that you could even find videos of it if you wanted to. But Scott Clarkson, he’s very quick to forget the fact that he’s working with children. I may play adults in my films, but I was very much still a child.”

You pale, the implication entirely clear. You look over at Eren, whose eyes are fixed towards the floor, as you wipe the tears from your eyes, as the video switches back to Eren and Lana who are seated at the table.

“When Levi and Hange ventured out on their own and decided to produce their own show, they ruffled lots of feathers. That’s something I overheard on set quite often before Eren ever started on the show. They were mad, essentially, that they had circumvented the whole producing aspect of it, choosing to be in control of every aspect of the production. And honestly, that they were successful with it.”

“Levi and Hange basically set a standard, especially for other people who were at their class the SWHA cohort. Jujutsu Kaisen basically followed suit short after - with almost all of the people in our class being funneled into either of those two shows. Which was aggravating, because it basically means that people who own the companies, like Scott Clarkson, don’t get their upcoming crop of stars to handpick form.” Eren states.

“Unfortunately for us, that didn’t really quite stop them. It started out with a simple fact - that Scott Clarkson knew for a fact that Eren would refuse to work with him.” Lana states.

“The first time I met Scott Clarkson he had rubbed me the wrong way. Because he refused to acknowledge that Y/N was standing right at my side.” Eren responds.

Eren was painfully aware of the fact of how uncomfortable you were. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was - maybe the fact that you had never been here before or that you didn’t quite know anyone like he did from growing up with them - but he figured that it would be a better idea for the two of you to go outside.

But before he could, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around, to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and Eren can feel you shrink at his side. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before he can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back, before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

“Do you have any projects lined up for your Attack on Titan hiatus?” Scott asks.

“Yeah. Sukuna and I are filming the next Conjuring movie. Though if you’re looking for someone, my friend Y/N-”

“No need. We’re here to talk about you.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I already have a roll. And she doesn’t. And you know how big she’s going to be - she can even sing!” Eren states.

Scott sighs.

“There’s a reason that I’m standing here talking to you. I’m well seasoned in these type of things - just like your parents. I promise you, with a breakout show like that, only one person can come out as the star. Don’t you want to make sure that it’s going to be you?”

“Levi and Hange made it out together. I don’t know why we couldn’t do the same.” Eren responds.

Luckily enough for him, his parents had arrived just at that moment and given him his much needed chance to run away.

“I wasn’t going to sell out that fast. Especially for someone who was so quick to bad mouth my best friend, who was basically the only person that I got to consistently talk to and be with at the time, I….”

“Eren’s very loyal. Let’s just leave it at that. And it’s precisely just because of that loyalty, especially to Hange and Levi who had thrown a wrench in every one of his profits, that they wanted Eren specifically. He has every makings of one of his stars. He has famous parents, an estranged brother, and a girl that can be thrown at the end of every headline.” Lana adds.

Eren sighs.

“The Attack on Titan hiatus was the perfect chance for them to get what they wanted. On one side, Danny and Sareen were building Y/N up. They were pushing her into making albums, way faster than she should have been by the way, adding more and more accolades to her name. And on the other side, they were dragging me into the mud. Purposely switching my movies at the last minute to make sure I was on the shitty one, making award show annoucers make crappy jokes about me so I’d feel like shit.” Eren responds.

The video switches to the last award show that you and Eren had technically attended together. The one where you announced that you were coming out with your second studio album and where you had won Actress in a Lead Role. Except, the video isn’t how you remembered it. Or that this time, you’re actually aware of what had been going on in Eren’s head.

“Here we have an international pop-star, Y/N L/N. Originally a small town girl from Canada, her soft spoken love songs, phenomenal acting, and insane dance act have left no heart untouched.” the announcer states.

Eren looks over at you in the video, his eyes so warm and his smile so wide, as he looks at you proudly.

“And you. What’s your name again? It’s sweet they let fans sit with stars now.” the headliner asks him, eliciting a large amount of laughter from the crowd as he walks on.

That’s when you see it. That Eren’s face immediately dropped and was washed over in shame. And that he got up and walked away.

And more importantly, that you hadn’t followed.

“I later found out that joke was very deliberate. That announcer was told to make that joke about me because they were almost positive that I would leave. And when Y/N won the award - and I was moping in one of the lounges about how much of a failure I was, how she was going to leave me for someone better - Scott Clarkson approached me. In the same way that he had approached Sukuna. Promising me that he could make me a star. That I could meet Y/N where she was and be next to her too.” Eren states.

“It was pretty easy to guess how the rest went. Y/N and Eren being in a relationship wasn’t exactly headline worthy, when they had been basically attached at the hip for years. But you know what was? The two of them breaking up.”

“I obviously can’t speak for Y/N. I don’t know what was going through her head at that point. But from what she made it seem like….Danny and Sareen had asked her to do it. I know that they had asked her to write songs like London Boy and most of the songs on her album for that precise reason, it….doesn’t seem far off.” Eren states.

“It seems stupid in hindsight. To take someone’s advice at the surface level like that and so blindly believe in them. But when you think of the examples that Eren and Y/N really had, people like Levi and Hange who wanted nothing but the best for them, who basically loved them like they were a second set of parents, it’s hard to believe that everyone around you doesn’t really have your best interest in mind. That and the fact that they were fucking nineteen.” Lana adds.

“And that’s when we get to the Girlfriend incident. And more importantly, the day that Lana and I became friends.” Eren states, looking over to smile at her.

Eren had locked the door, and pushed everyone out of the room the second they had stopped watching that stupid music video hours ago. And after the fact, he’s watched it three more times - you and Ricky dancing through the street and smiling at each other - while all he can do is drown in his despair.

That is until he hears a soft sniffling in the hallway behind him and a hushed voice talking on the phone in the doorway. He presses his ear the door, the voice loud, as he catches the ends of the conversation, recognizing that it was Lana.

“Can you just stay with him for a few more hours, please? I don’t think that I can leave.”

“Please. I want to come home really badly too, but they’re already so upset with me after what I said last night that I just-”

“Thank you so much. I really love you, you know that?”

The phone call ends abruptly and Eren, letting his curiosity get the best of them, opens the door to find Lana sitting flat against the wall, with her head in her hands. He can tell that she must have been crying for a better part of the last hour, her hair all unruly and tangled in a way that he had never really seen it before.

Eren shuffles into the spot next to her, against the wall, as he wipes his own red eyes.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks.

“Why? Trying to rub it in my face?” Lana asks, rather miserably.

“No. I just…heard you on the phone.” Eren asks.

Her eyes go wide, as she looks over at him rather frantically.

“What did you hear?” she asks.

“I mean, basically nothing.” Eren murmurs.

The two of them sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the other. That’s until Lana turns to him, a determined look on her face as she talks.

“Are you trying to make me feel shitty because I did it to you?” Lana asks.

“No. I’m not you, Lana.” Eren deadpans.

“I didn’t mean-

“Didn’t mean what? To make me look like a dumbass on stage? Just tell me what the hell is wrong if you’re going to talk so loudly outside of my door.” Eren mutters, irritated.

“Okay. We’re going to play a game, alright? Let’s pretend we’re different people.” Lana states.

“What?”

“I want to talk about something and I’m sure you do too, but it’s weird to do it like this. So we’ll pretend. I’m going to be La-La and you’re going to be Po.” she states.

“Like the Telletubbies….?”

“Yeah. Does that work? You can’t say anything to anyone, because….well that would just be fucking rude.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, Po. The thing is, I feel really bad. I did this really shitty thing to this guy who seems really nice and all. Except, I was standing on stage and they kind of asked me to do it right then and there so I kind of just went with it.”

Oh. Eren gets it. This is her weird way of apologizing.

“Well, why did she do it in the first place?”

She scoffs.

“You’re so nosy, bitch.”

Eren laughs, which has her relaxing her shoulders, before she talks again.

“Eren. Please don’t tell anyone, okay? This is really serious.”

Eren breaks, the seriousness in her demeanour stoppign him.

“I promise. What is it?”

She sighs, holding out a picture to him on her phone. It’s a picture of her and a little boy, with short, curly brown hair.

“This is my son. His name is Theodore, but…I call him Teddy. Like…Teddy Bear? And I feel so shitty, Eren but…they kind of hold him against me sometimes when it comes to things like this. So when they ask me to do things, I just do them.” Lana states.

“They hold you against him?”

“I mean….I try really hard to protect his privacy, Eren. He’s just a kid. I mean, he’s barely even two years old right now. And I know your parents, I’m sure you know that growing up in the spotlight isn’t the best place to be.”

Eren frowns, looking down at the picture. He’s never really quite thought it before, but he thinks that Lana is really pretty. Or more appropriately, that Lana looks very pretty when she smiles. And that he’s never seen her smile like this before.

“I get that. So what do they do? Threaten to tell?” Eren asks.

“I mean, they usually find out where I’m keeping him. I tend to keep him moving from different houses, with security in all that, to make sure that he’s safe from that type of thing. And-”

“Does he stay with his dad?” Eren asks.

Lana sighs, resting her chin against her knees.

“Eren. Ricky isn’t good news. And your little girlfriend or friend or whatever…she’s in really risky territory right now.” she states.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

She almost flinches, withholding of what it is exactly that’s on the tip of her tongue.

“Eren. He’s just not a good guy. You should make sure that someone is with her, that she’s not ever alone with him. Just take my word for it. There’s a reason my son doesn’t get to see him, why I avoid him like the plague.” she states.

Eren can see the tears filling in her eyes - and makes a mental note to drop the topic and relay the information to Connie or Jean later.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Lana.”

“I know. That’s why I feel even worse. I’m really sorry for what I did, Eren.”

“That’s okay. Let’s just make a deal.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll help and you’ll help me. Pacts between Tellytubbies are really sacred.” Eren states, feigning seriousness.

“You’re stupid.”

“And you’re annoying.” he responds.

Lana laughs, teary eyed, as she reaches forward and shakes on it.

“I only became really aware of the problem after Lana had pointed it out to me. And became even more frustrated with them, with all of them, when I had realized what they had been saying to her. Making comments about her body to her, despite the fact that she had literally given birth, and incessantly teasing her about her son, who is basically my favorite person in the world, by the way. That they would purposely put alcohol in her drinks, when she couldn’t drink at the time.”

The clips cut, this time to Eren and Lana, in a different mix of videos of playing with Teddy. You recongize him straight on, as the kid that you had met with Eren before the two of you had talked on the beach, and feel your heart burn at the fact that you had met Lana’s son and not known it. That Lana and Eren had to fight to make sure that he was safe, that she was doing anything for him.

“Eren and I basically had an arrangement. We both had houses off of set in Seattle, that we should shuffle him between, along with my brother Landon. There was someone with Teddy at all times, and at that age, he wasn’t really old enough to question the fact. His mom was always there to put him to bed at night, and sometimes his best friend Eren was there to do it too, so it didn’t mean too much to him.”

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It all started going downhill the week that I got hurt. Because, of course, that’s when Connie arrived on set.”

Lana wasn’t really paying attention when it had happened. Her nose was stuck in her own script, headphones over her ears, as she practiced the next scene she was going to be in.

When she looked up, three minutes after the fact, that’s when she saw it. That Eren was tangled with the cords that were suspending him in the air and that he was hanging unconscious upside down.

“What the hell are you doing? Take him down from there.” Lana states, incessantly shaking at Scott’s shoulder as he watched Eren in the viewfinder.

“What the hell are you talking about, Price?”

“He’s not fucking breathing. What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s acting. Did you not read your script before you got here?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for the crew around him to continue.

Lana looks up, every gut feeling of hers screaming in her stomach, as she runs on to the set, climbing on to the makeshift ladder and reaching for Eren stuck between the strings.

“Eren. Eren, wake up.”

Except he doesn’t budge in his arms, instead swinging back and forth from the way he’s precariously hanging on the strings. She presses her fingers to his neck, his pulse slightly weak under her fingers, as she can feel the tears burning in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just give him a break? He’s been going at it for like four hours.”

“Price. You’re ruining the shot.” Scott states, rather irritated.

“Take him down. Now.”

Scott rolls his eyes, walking over to the switchbox at his side. He reaches for the lever, placing his hand on the stick, as he all but glares at Lana.

“You want it that bad? Here.”

And he pushes the lever all the way down, sending Eren straight to the ground on his head. Lana can feel the panic rushing through her as she basically tumbles down, turning Eren’s head over in her hands, and being met with red, warm blood on her hands. She gives a weary eye to the crew, who phone the ambulance, as she follows in her own car.

“I think that was the first time that I realize that really, truly - these people don’t care about anything but getting the shot. I get that Eren was supposed to look like he was dead in that scene, but tiring him out to get the perfect shot was far from what he needed to do.”

“I sustained a concussion that left me in the hospital for a week. And I had three long lacerations down the length of my back from the harnesses that we were using, that basically sliced it on impact. That I still have scars from by the way.” Eren states.

You reach for Eren’s hand, squeezing hard on his wrist, as the video continues.

“When we finally made it back to set, Connie was there. And it’s not that I don’t love Connie, that I wouldn’t have loved to see him there, but I already knew that it wasn’t going to go well.” Eren states.

Eren sighs.

“I know, logically, that you can’t really blame these things on people. That Connie wasn’t my responsibility and that addiction is a real, physical disease that he had to battle against. But I just can’t help but feel like I could have stopped him if I was there.” Eren states.

“When I got to set, everyone around me hyped me up over the same basic thing. That Eren was out of commission, for reasons that they wouldn’t exactly tell me, and that I should take his spot as the lead. It was only a few days into shooting and that it would be an easy switch if I had just asked Scott if I could take his role.” Connie states.

Connie sighs.

“It was a simple thing that they were telling me. That Eren - he had gotten to be the lead role, hundreds of times over. That Levi had picked Eren out of everyone as the best, that he was extra hard on him because he knew that he could make a star. And that really, I had never gotten the same kind of exposure that Eren had, the type that comes from being a lead.” Connie states.

The video cuts - to videos of Connie and Eren filming on the set of Attack on Titan - the two of them playing pranks on Erwin and Hange together, running around each other between scenes, and laughing at Historia and Ymir walking past.

“Eren is one of my best friends. I would never want to side swipe him like that, so I decided that I was going to ask Eren for the role. And I was really self-assured that Eren would give it to me. Because he’s always been giving in that sense, he always had been with Armin and Y/N, and he would for me too.” Connie states.

“Just to clarify, the reason that I didn’t let Connie take the role at that point was because I had quite literally sustained a concussion from doing it. I was never going to let him step into that - no matter how hard he begged me to.” Eren responds.

“And so I got really hurt by it. And then everyone around me, they kept whispering it in my ear. That Eren couldn’t handle anyone but him being the star. That Eren thought I had no business being there, that I wasn’t made to be in a lead role. And for some reason, I don’t know fucking why, I thought that they were being honest with me. That they were being earnest. They kept bringing up the Girlfriend incident, that Eren was so quick to drag Y/N down the first chance he got, and that he would do the same to me too. I had so much trust in these people that I would do anything to stay friends with them. Because they were real. And unfortunately for me, I did. And one of the shittiest things I ever did was fight with Eren because of it.” Connie stated.

Eren found out, three months after the fact, that Connie had been doing drugs. He had his suspicions, since Connie had been spending so much time around Myka, and acting so weird and skittish around him that something had to be up.

So after he dropped Teddy off to Landon’s and head back to set with Lana, the two of them were prepared to talk to him about whatever it was, to clear the air. Except when they got there and knocked on Connie’s door, they found him lying face down on the desk, fast asleep with a small mound of white powder and a small trickle of blood down his nose.

“Connie. Connie, wake up.” Eren states, rigidly shaking his entire frame.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god, Eren what do we do?” Lana states, her hands on his shoulder as he hears her sniffling in his ear.

“Connie. Dude, you have to wake up now. Come on.” Eren states.

Connie lightly shuffles in his sleep, as Eren backs up out of the way, with Lana behind him. Connie wakes up, half there, as his eyes focus in on Eren and he pales. That Connie’s giving him the most agitated, mean look that he’s ever gotten in his life. That he’s ever seen Connie sport in his life.

“Connie. Hey, you-”

“What do you want, Eren?” he asks.

“We were just worried about you, dude. We haven’t talked in so long, and that’s our fault, but-”

“I’m not good enough for you, right? You’re too big of a star to be friends with someone as low on the food chain as me right?” Connie responds, seething.

Eren frowns.

“Connie, hey man. What are you talking about? We’ve been like family since we were little. Why would I-”

“Why didn’t you give me the lead role? Why the fuck are you and Lana always sneaking around behind my fucking back? Don’t play the family card in my face when you’re the one who fucking abandoned me, Eren.”

“Connie. I’m really sorry that I-”

That’s when Connie lifts his hand, jolting it straight across Eren’s face. He can feel the immediate, immense pressure on his nose, the bright red shooting out of his nostrils as he looks back up at Connie.

“Connie. We can’t-”

“We can’t what? You won’t fight me?”

“No, Connie. I’m not going to fight you.” Eren states.

“Why not? You’re still too good for me, aren’t you? You’re too good for Y/N, too good for me, too good for anyone who fucking got you there.” Connie states, swinging again.

Connie’s movements are loose, uncoordinated, which is when Eren reaches for his arm, just to pin him to the ground underheath him. There’s a sweltering guilt when he does it, holds Connie down, and it only increases in magnitude when Connie cries underneath him, cursing his name.

“Two weeks after my fight with Connie, my worst possible outcome occurred. That I have friends, who love me more than anything, and wanted to surprise me for my birthday. Y/N and Armin came to Seattle. And Y/N….she wanted to tell me that she still loved me.” Eren states.

“That was the worst possible time that they could have shown up. Because they were this close to leaking my secret, basically telling me that it was any day now that it was going to happen, after finding out that Eren and I were planning on breaking our contracts, just to be out of the situation for good. We had even reached out to Levi and Hange about it, which they had found out about very fast.” Lana states.

“I saw Y/N for the first time at my birthday dinner and was immediately floored at the fact that she was there. And Armin had quickly told me, when I had scurried away to the bathroom to check on her, so I knew what I had to do. I left my birthday dinner, with Hyla, to break up with her then and there. When I knew that I had a chance at getting Y/N back.” Eren states.

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”

Hyla gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, with his arm secured around his waist. And the second that he can drive them slightly out of earshot, back to the house where he can talk to her in private, there’s a weight that’s lifted off of his chest when he gets to say it.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Eren states.

Hyla frowns, squinting her eyes at him.

“Okay but like…technically, we aren’t even dating. It’s just a publicity thing.” Hyla states.

“Whatever this is. I want out. I-I’m not doing it anymore.” Eren states.

Hyla laughs, sitting criss crossed on the couch, as she looks up at him.

“My dad is going to be super pissed at you, Eren.”

Eren smiles, lighter than he had been feeling in the four years that he had been stuck in this godforsaken house. Because truly, the reason that had brought him here, didn’t matter anymore.

Levi and Hange were on his side - and they were going to help him out of this - and more importantly, you were back. The two of you were going to be together again, despite wherever the hell the two of you were going to be stuck.

“I don’t care. My contrat is almost up anyways. And I can imagine that the same headlines get boring over time, Hyla. I think it’s time to call it quits.”

Eren looks down at her, busily typing away on her phone, as she looks up at him.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Eren?” Hyla states.

“Yeah. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Fine. You can meet with my dad tomorrow to talk about it. He’s been thinking about bringing Ricky James on for a while anyways.” Eren states.

“Be my guest. You guys would fucking love him.” Eren states, running off.

“I was still on Cloud Nine that night. And it was making my skin itch, knowing that Y/N was like four feet away from me and we were going to be together again. So I woke her up in the middle of the night and took her to the beach outside of one of the houses that Lana and I owned. And-”

Eren tears up in the video, as you fight away the warm tears that are welling in your own eyes.

“During that entire night, I-I was so fucking happy again. All of the things that seemed so consequential to me when I was seventeen, that I needed to be at the same level as Y/N to be with her - which would basically be impossible, because she was always going to be better than me - seemed so ridiculous. The two of us, we just got to be real people in the second. The way that we always got to be when we were together.” Eren states.

“The following morning, Scott had shockingly agreed to let Eren and I be dismissed from our contracts, given that we finished off the press deals that we had going on. Which included the interview that we were going to do on the Life in Love podcast. Which should have ben our first, glaring red flag. That of course, we were never going to be let off that easy.” Lana states.

“It was simple. I guess-I guess I was so fucking happy that I got to talk about me and Y/N, what the two of us coming back together meant to me, that I put it all out there. And the WBS paid off Life in Love and edited the version of the podcast that was released.” Eren states.

“Granted, the part that’s always floored us that people never questioned it once. That the podcast clip that was released was barely ten minutes, when the episodes are usually an hour. That the podcaster has to ask questions to provoke the answers and that they weren’t even in the fucking video. And most of all - the fact that I didn’t even fucking talk thoughout the entirety of the interview.” Lana adds.

“I would have told Y/N. I would have told her the full truth then and there and I know that she would have believed me. Except, the person that I least expected, came to me beforehand and stopped me from doing it.” Eren states.

Eren’s met with an incessant pounding at his door, as he shoves all of his last belongings into his bag, ready to take off with you and Armin - and making your best efforts to drag Connie with you.

Eren opens the door to find Myka at his door, out of breath and panting.

“What?” Eren asks.

“Eren. You can’t leave.”

“Oh what the fuck do you want now? I’m taking Connie with me and that’s the fucking last of it.” Eren states.

“No, Eren. Really. You can’t go right now.” she states, pushing into his room and fervently sliding through her phone.

She hands him over the phone, with the email chain, as he anxiously reads through it and feels his heart drop.

“There’s no way. They can’t do that right?”

The email chain has the headlines - printed out and ready for distribution. Of them displaying every one of the last secrets that he wants out there front and center. About Connie being a drug addict, about Lana and Teddy, and of him and Y/N being homewreckers on the beach.

“It’s just a headline. We’ll be fine.”

“Eren. I read the article. They wrote about her brother’s in the article. About Lana and Ricky too - in detail.”

“What do you mean in detail?”

“They know everything, Eren. About every last detail of what he did to her, Eren. They’re going to put it all out there tomorrow, the second that you leave. And Y/N’s brothers…haven’t they literally been attacked before? This will be tenfold to that, Eren.”

Eren sighs, shaking the thought from this head.

“We’ll send them a security detail. And Lana, Connie, they’ll be-”

“Eren. You know for a fact that Lana doesn’t want anyone to know that he even exists. And Connie’s career. He’s never going to recover from this. And it’s- Y/N won’t be happy, Eren.” She states.

“So what the hell do you want me to do? Just stay here? Because there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Y/N stay here with me. And I know her - she’s not going to leave here without me.”

“They have Falco and Colt’s addresses, Eren. And-and don’t tell anyone but fucking Danny and Sareen? Her producers? They’re in on it. Sareen is literally Scott’s cousin, Eren. They’re planning on taking Y/N’s music away from her, so that they can make money off if it without giving her a cut.”

Eren pales.

“They’re going to do that if she stays here. And you know for a fact that you can’t leave because Connie won’t go and Teddy and- Eren you have to stay. She has to leave.”

“I can’t even fucking trust you. I don’t know what shitty game you’re trying to play here but it’s not funny.”

“I care about you guys.”

“Yeah right.”

“Okay, maybe not about you. But Lana….I care about Lana. This is the last thing she would want, she literally works so hard to make sure that no one will know about him for good reason. It would kill her to see it all get leaked.”

“Who the fuck is Lana to you? You don’t even-”

Eren understands it all too quickly. The pained flash that overtakes her eyes, the eway she’s so incessantly pleading on Lana’s behalf.

It’s because she’s in love with Lana.

Eren sighs, pinching his eyes shut.

“Do you have the article? I have to read it before I decide.” Eren states.

She nods, as she opens up the next email chain andhands him the phone. And when he reads through it, each consecutive sentence makes his stomach hurt, making it glaringly obvious what he has to decide.

Because the all but declare a smear chain against you and your brothers, slut shame you for what happened on he beach, drag Hange and Levi’s name to the blood, and leave no detail of Lana’s relationship with Ricky out. Things that no person should have aired out and Connie’s section nearly career ruining.

“Fuck. So what do I do? I mean-”

Eren can feel the tears burning in his eyes, as the leave warm, hot streaks down his skin.

“You have to make sure she leaves, Eren. You can’t have Y/N stay here. It’ll put things back to normal.” Myka states, downtrodden.

“She’s not going to leave. If I tell her, she’s going to want to stay with me. To be in my side during this and-”

“Say what you have to. To make her leave.”

“Think of the worst possible thing you could say, Eren.”

“I did what she asked. I-I made sure that she would leave. And in hindsight, the entire situation seems so stupid that me. That there were ten other things that I could have done, but…in that moment, I did what I thought was right.”

“It was idiotic in hindsight. Because it stopped them from running their smear campaigns on Lana and Connie, but Y/N was the one who got side sweeped in the middle of it.” Connie states.

“That’s where I came in. Danny and Sareen had reached out to me about everything that had happened with Y/N and Eren. Told me that I needed to amke sure that she came out of this on the other side, that she couldn’t let a guy take her career away from her. And anyone who knows the half of it about me knows for a fact that it was the right thing that they needed me to say, to get her to do it. And really, they had purposely picked everyone who went to see Y/N. Jean, not Mikasa, because he had a personal interest in seeing Eren hurt, because he was hurt too. And Sukuna, who would never advise her head on, but support what she wanted to do in full.” Historia says.

You groan, hanging your head in your knees as you know exactly what’s coming next.

That Danny and Sareen had given Scott and his stupid tabloid company exactly what he wanted. That they were the one pushing you to sing all three songs, that each consecutive piece of information made you more irritated, more mad as you went on to perform. And worse than that - Danny and Sareen made it a point to talk to Eren before the show, just to taunt him to his face.

“I had reached out to Levi and Hange for their help two weeks before the award show happened. And luckily enough for me, they helped us out of the situation, fast. Connie, Lana, Sukuna, and I sued Scott Clarkson for defamation of character, mistreatment of employees, and a dangerous workplace. We got to end our contracts early. And then moved forward.” Eren states.

The video changes to different clips, each one striking deep in your heart. Of Connie blowing out the candles on his one year anniversary of being sober as Teddy blows out his birthday candles, of Eren and Zeke getting along, and of the four of them all together, laughing at stupid videos of each other. And Eren signing along with Lana, brings the tears pouring down your eyes.

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh) When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh) Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you Rain came pouring down When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe And by morning Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean (Oh, oh, oh, oh)

“Make no mistake. There was so much that was taken out of us, in the years that we spent working there at Stone Studios. In being part of an environment that was so shitty, so damaging to who we were and the mental state that we were living in, in the name of making a good movie. But there was good that came out of it too.”

The clips switch, this time shocking you so deeply in your core that it makes your heart burn. Because the clips are of Sukuna and Lana, together. Swinging their hands together on the beach, cooking together in the kitchen, and kissing each other on the cheek.

“I know for a fact now, that the tiny little wishes that I made against my bedroom door have come true. Because I’ve been lucky enough to be blessed with the warmest, most compassionate partner that I could have ever wanted.”

Which is when you notice it. That in the video, Sukuna has the same little teddy bear tattoo as Lana on his forearm. And that they both have the tattoo for their son.

Your past and mine are parallel lines Stars all aligned and they intertwined And taught you The way you call me, "Baby" Treat me like a lady All that I can say is All of the girls you loved before (ooh) Made you the one I've fallen for Every dead-end street Led you straight to me Now you're all I need I'm so thankful for All of the girls you loved before But I love you more

“Lana is the love of my life. I’m glad that every shitty thing in my life was just…preparation for me to get to her. Because every shitty betrayal, every crappy headline, every deep rooted hard feeling in my chest, she’s the person who was made to handle it. She’s gentle, she’s warm, and she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’d go down this path a hundred times more if Teddy and Lana were always the ones waiting for me at the end.” Sukuna states.

“It was a horrible situation. But it’s taught us to appreciate the very best. For me, I finally got to reconcile with my older brother, who go to tell me the real story of what happened to him as a kid. And now, I’ve gotten to rectify one of the most important relationships in my life.” Eren states.

“I feel really shitty for how things went down, Eren.” Zeke states.

Eren nods, hiking his knees to his chest, as he rests his chin against his legs. Hange and Levi had invited Zeke over in his little retreat in the house, as they prepared for the case at the end of the week, just to talk things out. Hange and Levi had all but forced Eren to be polite and at least hear him out.

“I’m sure you’re too young to remember. But, that day at the hospital. They had started the rumors that I was funding drug dealers through money that I had in my back accounts.” Zeke states.

“Well, what did you actually do with that money? Because I know for a fact that Mom and Dad had actually found money being shoveled out of your savings, Zeke.”

He frowns.

“You know my Mom, Eren?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that? We have the same mom, idiot.”

“No, Eren. My biological mother.”

“Oh, sorry. Dina, right?”

“She’s not a good person. And I know that. But, she had reached out to me. Asking for money. She said that she needed the money for hospital bills and all that and that Dad wouldn’t return her calls. And that she feels horrible asking of this, because she knows I’m her son and she should have taken care of me, butcher really, reallyneeded it.” Zeke states.

“And she…spent it on drugs.” Eren states.

“Yeah. And Mom and Dad knew that, they believed me when I told them.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. But it was my decision to distance myself away from you guys. I wasn’t planning on doing it but…Mom lost a magazine cover, Dad lost a role, and…I knew that this was your dream. That you wanted to make it big and you couldn’t really make it big with me attached to your name.”

“Zeke. That’s so stupid. I wouldn’t have cared about that. And I don’t care because-”

“Eren. You don’t care now. There comes a point where everyone reaches this kind of stage. Where thje politics and the shitty tabliods, they make you realize that all of these things are really inconsequential. But at that age, this was all that you wanted. And I’d hate foryou to secretly resent me, resent my shitty decisions, becuase they were the ones that were holding you back.”

“Zeke…”

“I’m just glad to have you back as my brother now. I know my actions don’t really make it seem that way, but you kind of meant the world to me, man.”

The camera cuts, to a black screen with text on it, as the movie closes out.

Eren Jaeger, Lana Price, Connie Springer, and Ryomen Sukuna sued Scott Clarkson and Stone Studios on November 6th. The four of them reached a settlement with the studio, each recieiving twenty-five millions dollars each from the Clarkson Conglomerate.

Lana Price and Ryomen Sukuna have decided to split their settlement money two ways. Both are dedicating a half to ensure that they can continue to fund and upkeep security costs for their son, Theodore Price. And together, the two of them are donating the other half of their money to sexual assault victims, in hopes to support those who have similar experiences to the two of them.

Connie Springer has decided to donate all of his settlement money in order to support the establishment of rehab centers in various cities throughout the country. He hopes to create an advocacy network for those who have struggled and hopes to shine a light on the problems that exist in the current, underfunded programs.

Eren Jaeger, along with his settlement money, has asked Stone Studios for two additional items. First, he has asked for a copy of the original interview that he did for Life in Love, which he plans to return to Y/N L/N, who he claims was the only person who deserved to hear those words in the first place, the first chance he gets.

Second, Eren Jaeger negotiated with the conglomerate for weeks for the masters to Y/N L/N’s album, The Lucky One. The negotiation was short-lived, but the Scott Conglomerate has promised to return the rights of the music to Y/N L/N.

And third. Eren Jaeger has decided to donate his settlement money to fund arts programs throughout the Candian Provinces. Eren Jaegers album, Valedictorian, will donate all of the money produced in it’s first calendar year to the same cause.

“Y/N has dreamed about being a triple threat since she was a kid. But the first time that she ever felt that the dream was real was when, according to her, a group of hippie dippies in her hometown had raised money and petitioned to fund the arts program at her school. Which in turn, helped her realize that this was something that she loved. More so than just something that she wanted to do as a career, but something that was so in tune with who she was as a person, that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing it even if she wanted to. And I’d hate for people to look at me, or at her, and be dissuaded from coming into this industry, no matter how shitty it is. There’s really depth to her art and her work that can’t and wont’ ever be diminished by any of this. Which was the point of all of this anyway.”

The video switches, this time to different clips of you and Eren. Of the two of you at awards shows togethers, sitting in interviews together laughing, and the nearly thousands of clips that Connie has made of you two together throughout the years.

Of the two of you in love.

I still remember the look on your face Lit through the darkness at 1:58 The words that you whispered for just us to know You told me you loved me So why did you go away?

“Make no mistake. Y/N L/N is the love of my life. She’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. She’s compassionate, sensitive, and always been so understanding of me. There’s never been, and going to be, someone in my life that has such a pull on me the way she does. She’s the moon, she’s the only reason that I even push and pull in the way that I do. I wouldn’t be sitting here, in this chair today, telling my truth if she hadn’t been so brave, so truthful as to do it first. And I wouldn’t be sitting here, still wholeheartedly believing in love, even though I lost it, because I know for a fact that it would be a disservice to what we shared to turn myself away from it.”

I never thought we'd have a last kiss I never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are Hope it's nice where you are

“It’s always that dumb question that people ask. Would you rather love and lose it or not love at all?”

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day And something reminds you, you wish you had stayed You can plan for a change in the weather and time But I never planned on you changing your mind

“The correct answer is always to chose love. And it’s an easy question when the person you’re loving is love personified.” Eren finishes.

You turn over to Eren, teary eyed and the gaping, the burning feeling in your chest so immense that you can’t even fathom the words to say to him. So overwhelmed, so overstimulate from everything that you’ve heard - everything that you’ve felt - that you can barely keep your head on straight. The last song starts playing, which you can tell is entitled Fine Line from the credits line, as the words make the sobs wrack through you fully.

We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright We'll be alright We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)

You turn to him, his hands on your shoulders, as he reaches up to brush the tears off of your face. You can still feel yourself hiccuping in his touch, the look in his eyes so pained as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eren whispers.

“Eren. You- you fucking idiot. I’m going to kill you.” you whisper back, mustering your best glare as you frown at him.

“That frown never stops being cute, you know? You have the horror appeal of a stuffed animal.”

You shove him, in response, glaring at him as the burning in your chest slightly subsides.

“Stop trying to lighten the mood. I’m ten different levels of mad at you right now.”

“Okay. I’m going to say something crazy to you, but it’s just an idea, okay? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

“What the fuck could be crazier than…oh, I told you that I didn’t care about you because I wanted to protect you? Or, oh, I sued a person who took everything away from me and instead of trying to get more money, I tried to get back the rights to your music. Or oh, THAT STUPID INTERVIEW I DID WAS FUCKING EDITED?”

“Okay. Maybe it’s a little less crazy than that. But just hear me out okay?”

“I can basically never hear that phrase the same from you again. The last time I didn’t hear you out, you were sitting on a butt load of fucking information. Like the fact that you took the fall for me when someone threatened my fucking family? Or oh, I was struggling for years on end but never once reached out to you or-”

“Sweetheart. Just listen to me. Please.”

You frown, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Everyone else is going to be on the press tour for another four days. And there are some people who want to see us….in Seattle.”

“Seattle? Don’t tell me in some weird twisted way that you're friends with Hyla or something?”

“Ew, no. Not Hyla. But your wife wistfully looks at the window everyday, wondering when you’re going to come home from war. And no I’m not being dramatic she makes that joke almost every day. And Sukuna said he has some choice words prepared for you that he’s been sitting on for a few years now. And, it’s also Teddy’s sixth birthday. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m kind of his favorite. And I know that he would like you too.”

“You-”

“It would just be for two days. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but the two of them. They really love you. They want to see you and…you have a lot to talk about. With both of them.”

“Yeah. I-I want to see Lana. And Sukuna, they…. fuck, Eren. they went through so much. You- you went through so much. I’d like to see them and- Eren, I don’t know what to say but-” you respond, the tears warm as they spread down your eyes.

“Don’t say anything yet. Sit on it for a little. I’ll pack our things, yeah?” he states, voice warm as he smiles at you.

“Okay.”

“One last thing, Y/N.”

“Eren. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

He rolls his eyes, as he fishes through his pocket, and places a USB in your hand. You twist it over in your fingers as you look at it and give him a confused look.

“The interview. Unedited. I-I meant what I said. You-you should be able to hear it. Those words are meant for you and you only.

You turn it over in your hands, preshing it flesh against your hand, as you and Eren step out of the townhouse into the snow and head towards the car for the airport.

Hand in hand.

next part linked here

an: GUYS U CANT SIMP OVER SUKUNA ANYMORE HES A FATHER. LEAVE HIM ALONE I SWEAR TO GOD. that being said sukuna and lana appearances next chapter RAAAA. and as always, someone send me an ask for the valedictorian tracklist I HAVE IT LOCKED AND LOADED

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @mrksnctzen @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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girlkisser13 · 2 months

Text

daylight

"and i can still see it all (in my mind)" "all of you, all of me (intertwined)" "i once believed love would be (black and white)" "but it's golden (golden)"

pairings: addison montgomery x fem!reader

warnings/tags: slight angst but mostly fluff.

summary: addison’s in love with you.

the seattle rain drummed against the hospital windows, a rhythmic backdrop to the chaotic symphony within. addison stood in front of the or board, scanning the names and cases, but her mind was miles away. specifically, it was in the warm, inviting space that you occupied in her heart.

the day had been relentless, filled with back-to-back surgeries and consultations, but none of it compared to the emotional turmoil she felt every time she saw you. the brief moments you stole together were the highlights of her day, yet each encounter was shadowed by the unspoken tension of addison's crumbling marriage to derek and mark's obvious feelings for her.

"addie," a voice pulled her back to reality. she turned to see mark, his usual cocky grin in place. "lunch?"

"not today, mark," she replied, forcing a polite smile. she turned on her heel, heading down the hall towards a quieter part of the hospital where she knew you would be.

she found you in the lounge, sipping coffee and staring out at the rain. her heart ached at the sight of you, making it almost hurt to breathe.

"hey," she said softly, stepping inside. you looked up, your eyes lighting up briefly before dimming with some internal conflict.

"addison," you greeted, your voice steady, though your eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "shouldn't you be with derek?"

she winced at the mention of her estranged husband. "derek and i... it's complicated."

"it always is," you replied, standing up. "but you still have him. and mark... he clearly has feelings for you."

"mark and i are just friends," she insisted, stepping closer. "and derek... derek and i are over. we just haven't figured out the logistics yet."

you shook your head, stepping back. "addison, i can't be the reason you don't go to either of them. i won't do that to you. or to myself."

"y/n," addison's voice broke, a desperate edge to it. "you have to understand. ever since i met you, i haven’t been able to think about anyone else. i haven’t even looked at anyone else since we’ve met. i don't want to think about or look at anyone else now that i’ve seen you. my life used to be in black and white, you brought the color."

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at her, the sincerity in her words cutting through your defenses. "addison, i..."

"no," she interrupted, taking your hands in her own. "listen to me. i've made mistakes, so many mistakes. but loving you? that's not one of them. you’re the reason i wake up every morning with a smile. you’re the person i want to come home to. please, don't push me away because of derek or mark. they don't matter to me. you do."

you felt the walls you had built around your heart begin to crumble. "addison, this isn't fair to anyone. least of all to you."

"fairness doesn't matter," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "love does. and i love you, y/n. more than i've ever loved anyone."

you searched her eyes, finding only truth and vulnerability there. with a trembling breath, you nodded. "i love you too, addison. i always have."

she pulled you into a tight embrace, the weight of your shared feelings lifting as you held each other. in that moment, nothing else mattered. not derek, not mark. just the two of you and the rain outside, washing away the past, making way for a brighter, more colorful future.

you both stood there for what felt like an eternity, the world outside ceasing to exist. when you finally pulled apart, addison gently cupped your face, her thumb brushing away a stray tear.

"what do we do now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"we take it one step at a time," she replied, her tone resolute. "i'll talk to derek, make it official. and mark... i'll handle mark. but you and me, we start now. no more hiding. no more pretending."

you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "okay. but i need you to promise me something."

"anything," she said, her heart pounding.

"promise me that no matter what happens, we'll face it together. i won’t let you do this alone."

her eyes softened as she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "i promise. together, always."

as the two of you left the lounge, hand in hand, the rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt like a barrier. instead, it was a cleansing force, washing away the uncertainties and paving the way for your new beginning.

#grey’s anatomy #greys anatomy #grey’s anatomy fandom #greys anatomy fandom #grey’s anatomy fanfiction #greys anatomy fanfiction #grey’s anatomy fic #greys anatomy fic #addison montgomery #addison montgomery fanfiction #addison montgomery x reader #addison montgomery x you #addison montgomery imagine #addison montgomery smut #taylor swift #lover #daylight #spotify #Spotify

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boldlyvoid · 1 year

Text

Love Story

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: About a week into knowing her, Spencer knew he wanted to marry her one day. So, for her birthday, at The Eras Tour, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring...

Warnings: allusions to sex, stupid couple fights, Spencer spoiling her, roadtrips, food and drink mention, talks of the future (future kids) proposals.

a/n: this fic is for my best friend in the whole worlds birthday. @reidsbookclub, i love you, i hope you have the best time at your concert tonight <3

Word Count: 6k

Set in the Sweet Nothing Universe

He’s been in Reno for 3 months and dating Y/N for 3 months now, too.

They practically live together now that it’s summer vacation for her. She took on some kids for tutoring, and she sees them a few hours a week whenever they have time. She mostly goes to their houses or meets them at the public library, which is right next door to his work. She brings him in a coffee or a snack whenever she’s in town, they have lunches together and she even stays a little longer in town so she can drive him home afterwards.

It’s been wonderful.

Everyone at work knows her, they call her Mrs. Reid as a joke and she thinks it's cute… Spencer, on the other hand, wishes she was his wife so, so bad. It’s way too early to ask her, even if he knows in his heart that she’s the one for him. So he’s waiting. He’s not sure how long he’ll wait. He doesn’t even know if she wants to get married one day. He still has some things to learn about her.

Her birthday is coming up, soon, he knows that much. He actually learned about her birthday when Penelope was first telling him all about her. August 4th, making her a Leo, the lion sign, even though she’s as gentle as a flower.

They haven’t planned anything for her birthday yet, it's still a couple of weeks away. He knows she’s told her kids that she’ll be busy from the 3rd to the 6th, taking 4 days just to herself, she wasn’t planning on doing anything. Spencer wants to treat her to something so bad. Be it a nice dinner, a gift she wants or a trip somewhere. So he takes those 4 days off too, he books it in advance with his boss, it’s approved and now he just has to plan something.

During one of his lunch breaks that she isn’t sitting in on, he takes out his phone and calls up Penelope. Having known Y/N longer, she’s the perfect person to discuss ideas with.

“Spencer my lovely! What are you doing calling me at 3pm on a weekday?” She answers full of cheer.

“Y/N’s birthday is coming up, I need your expert advice on what to get her,” he heads right into it, skipping all the niceties, he only cares about her.

“Taylor Swift tickets, duh!”

“I tried that months ago, they sold out way too fast,” he complains. “We missed the Vegas show 'cause I obviously didn’t know her in March, all she has left are the Seattle and California shows… but again, they’re all sold out and the resale tickets are insane.”

“Hey, six grand for 2 tickets with the love of your life is so worth it,” Penelope teases. “I might have a connection to the Inglewood show… maybe I can see if they have any last-minute tickets?”

“How do you have a ticket connection?”

“My brother's wife works for Ticketmaster, she said they save some tickets for important people until the last minute and if they’re not taken, they get released to the general public and you can get better deals if you call Ticketmaster instead of going online,” she explains. “I’ll give her a call, I’ll see what she can do.”

“Okay, call me back when you know more?”

“Will do, Spence-roo,” she says before hanging up, making him smile.

—

He goes home to Y/N’s apartment that night, they have a home-cooked meal together and they settle down on the couch to watch something on TV and just relax for the rest of the night.

She’s cuddled into Spencer’s side watching TikTok on her phone. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, barely watching anything for more than 30 seconds and then she stops on one. Spencer can hear the music and the cheering, it’s a tour video. He peeks over to it, watching as someone proposed to their girlfriend in the middle of Love Story.

She likes it, opens the comments and congratulated them. The next words out of his mouth are barely in his control. They just tumble out.

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

She smiles up at him, “To you? Absolutely.”

He pulls her in for a kiss. She locks her phone and tosses it to the side so she can climb into his lap and kiss him some more. His hands migrate to her hips, and she runs her fingers through his ever-growing hair. Making out with her on the couch, she lightly grinds against him, he hums into the kiss, breaking it to kiss her jaw along to her ear.

“I’d want to marry you too…”

She cups his face, staring him down, “Ask me whenever you’re ready.”

“It’s not too soon?”

She shakes her head, “No… I mean, people will probably think you knocked me up because of how fast we’ve moved but, it’s been 3 months. We know everything about each other, we sleep beside each other every single night, and I never want to break up with you. The next logical move would be to get married.”

He steals another kiss, “I think,” he kisses her again on her jaw again, making his way down her neck, “You’re right.”

She smiles, letting him go down to her boobs, “about people thinking you got me knocked up?”

He laughs against her, “I mean, we fuck so often—

“No, don’t even joke,” she pulls his attention back to her. “You can’t get me pregnant just randomly, I don’t have enough money to pay for my substitute. You’d have to knock me up so I can have the baby in the summer…”

He laughs, “You’re not serious, right?”

“I’m completely serious. I don’t get maternity leave, I have to have summer babies if I want to keep my job.”

“I have money,” he reminds her. “If we get married it becomes our money, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.”

She settles slightly, her shoulders drop again and she stares at him so softly, “I’d still worry, you know me.”

He kisses her again, reaching up to brush her hair back, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life… and if we ever had kids, you know I’d do the same for them.”

“Do you want kids, like genuinely?” She asks. “Cause I know you love Henry and you said that you thought about having them with Maeve but—

“I want you to have my babies… whenever you’re ready,” he tosses the phrase back to her.

That does it, she dives back in for another kiss, heating it up tenfold, he cradles her head and back, leaning down against the couch so he can hover over her. Working the button on her jeans open, he starts to tug on them when his phone rings. He wants to just let it ring, but it’s Penelope's ringtone. He hasn’t changed it, no matter how long he hasn’t worked with her, it’s still the same thing.

“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to pull away.

“Leave it,” she tugs him back in. She gets a few more kisses in and then he pulls back further.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he reaches out to grab his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the apartment to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” Penelope answers. “But I have good news. We were able to pull some strings and I got you 2 floor tickets for the 4th.”

“No way?” He’s gobsmacked.

“Way!! I gave her your information, the tickets are in your name and they’re being mailed to you so you’ll have physical tickets. You can just pay me back.”

“What was the damage?”

“they were $1800 each…”

“That’s a lot better than the resale price,” he’s so glad. “Thank you, Penny, really, she’s going to love this.”

“Hey, she was my friend first, I’d do anything for her,” Penny teases. “Now go back to hanging out with her, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“thank you, we love you,” he reminds her.

“I love you too!” And then she’s gone.

He heads back inside and she’s no longer on the couch. The tv is off, all the lights are out, and she’s retreated back to the bedroom. He knocks before he enters, “Hey… sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she says, clearly a bit upset. “I get it, works more important that me sometimes.”

“No, no it’s not… and that wasn’t work.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t.”

He timidly walks towards her, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I know. But it was important… it’s for your birthday, that’s all I can say.”

She bites back a smile, looking him dead in the eyes. “Really?”

He nods, “You still have from the 3rd to the 6th off, right?”

She nods, “I do… why?”

“I’ll tell you more when the day gets closer, just, don’t plan anything, I want to make this special. This is our first birthday together, I want to celebrate you.”

“Okay, you’re forgiven,” she gives in, she rushes over to him and tosses her arms around his neck. “But next time it rings and you’re about to go down on me, it can wait.”

“It definitely can,” he agrees, picking her up, he tosses her onto the bed. “Let me make it up to you.”

—

She watches the era’s tour live streams on TikTok every weekend, she favourites outfits that she’d want to wear and she tells Spencer all about the surprise songs that she’d want to hear live one day.

What she doesn’t know is that Spencer has memorized everything she’s said and he’s been using it to his advantage. He’s found her Pinterest board with eras tour dream outfits, and he’s made a playlist of her favourite songs so he’ll be able to sing along no matter what surprise songs happen. And he’s started to buy tour outfits for himself too.

He puts a lot of work into her tour outfit, too. It’s midnights themed, he got her a denim jacket with the back panel cut out and replaced with a starry lace pattern. He bought iron on paper and printed out her favourite lyrics to iron onto the arms and put stars on a pair of dark blue Converse. He’s even been making friendship bracelets while on his lunch break at work. He just hasn’t been able to decide on what to get her to wear under the jacket and with the shoes. Nothing seems to be perfect enough.

He’s walking home from work one night when he passes a window display full of sparkly dresses. He just doesn’t want to get her the wrong size. So he has the bright idea to take one of Y/N's dresses with him to the store to compare sizes. Trying to steal one of her dresses… that’s going to be difficult.

“I have a question for you,” he asks that night at dinner. “But you can’t ask any follow-up questions or anything, okay?”

“Alright..?”

“Can I have one of your dresses to compare to a dress I want to buy you for your birthday?”

She swoons, “Yeah… or you could take my measurements?”

“Either way, I just want to make sure it fits.”

And so that night she gives him one of her favourite dresses. She tells him the size she prefers in different fabrics and he makes a mental note of every single thing she says.

The next day, he brings the dress to work with him, people want to ask questions but they don’t. He makes it through the day, walks out of work with the dress and right into the store he saw yesterday.

The shop owner clocks him right away, noticing the dress, she thinks he’s making a return.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’m surprising my girlfriend with Taylor Swift tickets for her birthday and I’m trying to plan her outfit, too, and the dress in the window is perfect! I brought in one of her other dresses, just to compare sizing so I get it right,” he explains.

“Oh my god, aren’t you the dream boyfriend?” She teases. “Can I see that?”

He places it on the counter for her, she takes a look at the tag and holds it up, “I think I have the window dress in this size… what era are you going for?”

“I made her a jacket in the Midnights aesthetic and her shoes are evermore,” he shares. “The dress in the window is kinda mirrorball-esque, I like it.”

“You know your shit,” she can’t believe it. “Do you have an outfit picked out?”

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t decide if I want to do fearless or lover…”

“You could do both, get a puffy Romeo shirt and some pink pants, that would be cute?”

“Yeah, yeah I like that idea… you know the Lover album cover, the heart she has around her eye? How would I do that?” He asks, he hasn’t had someone to talk to about any of this, so he’s taking a chance and asking everything.

She’s really helpful, she’s able to get him the dress in the right size, show him where he can get adhesive sparkles for the face, helps him plan his own outfit and even get some accessories too. He spends a fair bit of money in her store and he thanks her.

“I’m going to bring her back here after the tour, maybe she can get her engagement party dress here,” he suggests.

“Wait, are you going to ask her to marry you at the show?”

He nods, “During love story.”

“She’s one lucky girl,” the shop owner swoons again. She’s overjoyed for them. “If you bring her back here for that I’ll give you a discount, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. I really hope she says yes.”

“Me too.”

—

He stole a piece of her costume jewelry when she wasn’t looking, a ring she typically wears on her right ring finger and brings it with him to all the jewelry shops he goes to. Finding a ring that feels like Y/N is hard. He wants it to be perfect, he wants it to be big and pretty and something she’ll show off to everyone. He wants it to be a ring that will stay in style for the next 50 years, he wants it to last.

He’s looked at a million styles, every colour and cut imaginable… but nothing seems right. He knows the kind of rings she likes from her Pinterest, but even they don’t seem to fit what he imagines for them. This ring is supposed to symbolize their love and their relationship. It has to be perfect.

He finds the ring on Etsy of all places. It was his last chance to get a ring. There were only 2 weeks until her birthday and he had to make sure the ring was in his possession before they took their trip to LA.

The ring comes in two parts, one ring for the engagement and the other for the wedding. The wedding band perfectly encompasses the engagement ring, making the main ring look like it has little leaves coming out from around it.

He gets them in white gold, the main stone is a man-made, oval-shaped diamond and the stones around it are man-made opal, 4 on each side to be exact, shaped like little diamonds. The wedding band also has man-made stones, in green. Together, they look perfect. He has them expedited, he pays the artist top dollar to make sure they’re at his house by August 1st and he prays they make it.

—

She picks him up after work on July 31st and when they arrive at his house, there’s a package sitting on his front step. Part of him is furious that they just left it, they didn’t leave a drop-off notice and take it back to the UPS store for safekeeping, the rest of him is relieved that it made it. Y/N on the other hand, is nosey. She wants to know what he ordered. She’s curious as to why he didn’t want to open it in front of her, but she doesn’t bring it up again once he hides it in his room.

They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she wraps her arms around him, stands on her tip-toes and rests her head on his shoulder to watch him stir around the pan. “Can I ask a question about my birthday?” She pries slightly.

“Depends on the question.”

“Do I have to pack a bag or anything?” She asks the first question.

“Yeah… I got us an Airbnb for the few days we’re taking off work,” he explains, not giving away too much.

“Okay, and what should I pack?”

“Underwear, pyjamas, comfy clothes,” he lists off a few things. “Makeup and whatever you want to do with your hair… I’m going to tell you what’s happening the day of, you’ll have a few hours to plan for each event.”

“Each event?” She picks that out.

He just nods, “You’ll find out more later.”

“Fine,” she sighs, resting her chest against his back now, she holds him tighter. “I’m going to go all out for your birthday too, you know.”

“I know… we’re kind of obsessed with each other,” he teases.

“I think it’s called love,” she reminds him.

“You’re right… I do love you a lot,” he says as he spins around in her grip and hugs her close, kissing her neck gently. “I love you so much.”

She hums happily, “I love you too, sneaky man. It’s killing me that I don’t know what’s happening but I trust you.”

“Good,” he pulls back and cups her cheek. “How would you feel leaving late on the 2nd instead of early on the 3rd?”

“We can do that, I know you prefer driving at night,” she knows him well. “We can pack after work and leave once we’re done.”

“I will be packed the day before,” he teases. “I’m not a last-minute man.”

“Oh, I know, you don’t do anything lightly, but I might need help packing,” she reminds him. “You can help me pick out accessories and shoes to match whatever you got me.”

“You think I didn't get you shoes and accessories? Have you seen me?” He teases, that’s one thing she loves about him. He’s always matching.

She just laughs, “Of course you did.”

—

Spencer walks from his apartment to hers with 2 suitcases, one for his own things and one just for their eras tour outfits. He has her second key fob, so he unlocks her car when he arrives and puts his things in the backseat and heads up to her apartment. He knocks once but ultimately lets himself in. “Babe?”

“Bedroom!” She calls back, letting him know where she is.

“Hey…”

“So I’ve played out a bunch of outfits, what ones will be good for what you have planned?”

“Anything is good, I have your outfit for the main event planned, the rests are dinners, brunches and us driving to and from California.”

“We’re going to California?” She can’t believe it… but then she clues in. “Oh my god, Spencer, why are we going to California?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, you tell me?”

“I’m going to lose my mind if we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” she explains, rushing to his side, she places her hands on his shoulders, “I’m going to go nuts.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to…”

She can’t believe him, she just hugs him and holds him there, “Oh, you’re so cute when you try to lie to me, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “Now, hurry up and pack, we can check into the Airbnb after 10pm tonight, if we leave now we could be there by midnight?”

And so they pack her up, they check the apartment to make sure everything is off and all the widows are closed and they head out. She locks the door, he brings her suitcase down to the car and she lets him drive. He’s a lot more comfortable on the road at night, he takes them out of Reno, down Highway 695 towards Carson City. They see Bridgeport, Willow Springs, Mammoth and Crowley Lake, Big Pine, Independence, Long Pine and then they stop for gas and a snack. He drives from Long Pine to Ridgecrest and then they pass through Mojave around 11:30.

They’re in the home stretch now. She knows exactly what’s happening when they go through Santa Clara. She can see on their GPS that by taking the 405 south they’ll end up in Inglewood in just a few minutes.

He got them a cute little Airbnb just a stone's throw from the stadium, they’d be able to walk to and from if they wanted to. Once he parks outside of it, she turns to him with tears in her eyes. “How did you manage to do this?”

“Penelope,” he says with a smile. “She knows someone at Ticketmaster, they got me really good tickets for the 4th. I bought you an outfit, I made myself one, too… I know how badly you wanted to see her so I made it happen.”

“You really are the man of my dreams,” she swoons. “Thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he reminds her. Meaning every word.

“I know… now let’s get all our shit inside so I can give you a proper thank you.”

—

They spend their first day there just looking around. They have brunch at a cute little spot she’s always wanted to try, they visit the National History Museum and Exposition Park. It’s a lovely day where they just get to hold hands and be together. They order dinner to their Airbnb and eat while watching TV and then they spend another night in bed together. It’s perfect.

When they wake up on the 4th, Spencer smothers her in kisses and wishes her a happy birthday… they don’t leave the bed for a while after that.

He orders her breakfast and while they’re waiting for it, he shows her the outfit he has picked out for her. The dress, her jacket, the shoes, a cute little clear purse for the stadium and a lot of sparkly makeup options for whatever she wants to do.

“Spencer, this is perfect?” She’s amazed by it all. “How did you know?”

“I found your Pinterest,” he shrugs. “and you always show me cute outfits on TikTok, I took a lot of inspiration from what I knew you’d like and your favourite songs to make this… and these,” he pulls out a ziplock bag full of bracelets. All handmade. All perfect.

She spreads all the bracelets out on their bed, and she reads each and every single one. He has sent titles, lyrics and abbreviations, even quotes from Taylor that he’s memorized from how many times she’s watched Miss Americana on her days off. “Spence, how am I going to part with these?”

He shrugs, “Don’t trade your favourites? Maybe leave any special ones here?”

“Yeah, I guess I could do that… I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of making these just for me, seriously, when did you have the time?”

“On my lunch breaks,” he laughs to himself. “I had no idea what I was doing and then Keesha, our undercover girl, showed me how to make them better.”

“Everything is perfect, Spence,” she stands and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “This is going to be the best night of my life.”

She really had no idea.

“I was thinking we could maybe go get our nails done,” he says as she pulls away. “We don’t have to be at the stadium till 6, I think it would be nice to get some eras nails done? I might even get some colour?”

“Yeah, that sounds amazing!” She agrees, not thinking anything of it.

He really just wants her to think her nails are pretty when he slips the ring onto her finger later tonight.

He already made the appointment with a local nail salon for 1pm, giving them enough time to head back to their Airbnb and get ready for the show and maybe even get something to eat before they go. He’s such a planner. She loved every second of it, it made her less stressed to know that he already knew everything that was going on and he was confident about it too.

He gets his nails done as well. He’s always wanted to but never had the chance to. He gets just basic gel while she goes all out with a shorter acrylic shape, she gets sparkles and stars all in the 10 different album colours and she loves them. She keeps staring at them the whole walk home, she loves how they sparkle in the light and how pretty the shape makes her hand look.

The ring is going to look even better on her hand now.

They shower together back at their place, Spencer watches in awe as she does her hair and her makeup and it’s not until the end that he hands her the adhesive sparkles and asks her to help him put the lover heart around his eye.

“What did you plan for your outfit?” She asks while carefully sticking each sparkle to his face.

“I got some bright pink pants, like, highlighter pink, bright,” he smirks. “I also bought a puffy shirt like Romeo… I wanted to go for Lover Story.”

She laughs, “Oh you’re going to look good.”

“I also bought cowboy boots…”

“You didn’t,” she can’t believe it. “What colour?”

“Pink.”

“Oh my god, Spence… really?”

“well like you said Lover and Midnights go together like they were planned to be back to back and you’re my other half so I wanted us to match… and then I’m partly fearless which came after Evermore which is on your shoes, so, it all matches.”

“I love you,” she cups his face gently, “like it’s insane how much I love you.”

“It’s not insane. It’s the perfect amount,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss.

—

She doesn’t know they have front-row seats until they’re at the stadium getting their tickets checked. The best part of her reaction at the gate is that she thinks this is the last surprise… she’s so overjoyed with the thought of being that close to Taylor Swift that she can’t even fathom him proposing tonight.

From all the Tiktok's that she’s watched since March, she knows that the best time to go to the merch stands isn’t before the concert. It’s during. So, on their way to their seats, they simply buy some overpriced drinks and trade a couple friendship bracelets before heading towards their seats. She looks around with her mouth agape, amazed at how big the place is and how much of the stage takes up the floor.

At their seats, she shakes her head and lets out an exasperated laugh, “I can’t believe you got these?”

“Only the best for my girl,” he teases, wrapping his arm around her, he brings her in and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Happy birthday.”

“I love you,” she smiles up at him. “Thank you for this, really. I’m going to thank you a million times.”

“You don’t have to,” he waves it off. “I wanted to come too, you know, she’s a big reason we’re together in the first place.”

“If only we could tell her thank you,” she laughs.

“We should’ve made a sign,” he teases.

“We should’ve…” she agrees. “Maybe I can just put big text on my phone and hold it up to her?”

“That could work.”

So that’s what she does, sitting in her seat, waiting for the opener, she drafts a few things to say while the stadium starts to fill up.

It takes a while before someone behind them actually shows up. Spencer worried there for a moment that the seats behind him didn’t sell and thus part of his plan for tonight would be ruined… but then a couple girls, in their teens, show up just before HIAM comes out to play.

Spencer takes something from his pocket, pretends to reach between their seats to the floor and turns back to one of the girls. “Um, I think you dropped this,” Spencer says to the girls behind them, he hands them a note and a $5 bill. Y/N watches him hand it back to them and then turns right back to watching the openers play.

“Oh thanks,” the girl says with a smile. She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads it.

‘Can you please record me and my future fiancé during love story? I have an important question to ask her and I want to remember it forever.’ And his number at the bottom.

She looks at Spencer with her eyes full of tears and nods, mouthing “I can do that.”

He gives her a thumbs up and turns back to watching the show. HAIM are a band he’s heard Y/N play before, he’s surprised how many words he knows just from being around her. They’re amazing and he knows that because they’re on the tour now, that means their song with Taylor has been added to the setlist. He really likes that one, even if it is about premeditated murder.

He knows the setlist like the back of his hand. It starts with Lover, the intro is a remix of all her eras names over top of the song Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince, the dancers wear these big sheets of fabric, peacocking around the stage and then they cover the middle of the main diamond stage. Once they lift the sheets back up, however, Taylor emerges onto the stage and the crowd goes wild.

He’s seen the show on Tiktok live so many times that he’s okay with missing it in person, instead, he watches her. He watches the way she stares at Taylor like she hung the stars and the moon herself. Like she’s some sort of god and everyone here is blessed to be in her presence. She cries, shaking her head in disbelief, she chants the words back to her and doesn’t even realize Spencer has been staring at her the whole time.

“Look how close she is,” Y/N bumps his shoulder and points. “She’s literally right there.”

“I know,” he smiles, so in love with her he couldn’t even pay attention to Taylor.

When Cruel Summer starts, she screams so loud, Spencer’s sure she’s going to lose her voice tomorrow. He finally starts paying attention to the show now. Singing along, he knows all the words. He actually really loves this song. And the man. He loves everything from Lover simply because he’s so deeply, deeply in love.

Post-lover, Taylor heads in for a costume change and thats when Spencer starts to feel anxious. He’s 2 songs away from his big moment. He checks his pockets, he still has the ring, in its box staying safe, it’s right there and ready to go. He almost blacks out for most of Fearless, he snaps back into it for You Belong With Me and the first note to Love Story gets his heart beat racing a million miles a minute.

He looks back at the girl behind him who has her phone out already she smiles at him, nodding like she’s ready to go and he takes a deep breath. Taylors walking down the catwalk, she’s going to be literally right in front of them when he gets down on one knee… he doesn’t think she’s seen a proposal this close and in person yet on this tour? Maybe she’ll notice them?

He sings along, genuinely loving the song and it steadies him a little. Y/N is singing too, jumping up and down and pointing at Taylor during all the best parts. She’s having the time of her life… she has no idea what’s coming.

The second chorus comes and he reaches into his pocket, he’s holding the box in his hand and his heart is in his throat.

“And I got tired of waiting… wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading! When I met you on the outskirts of town!” Y/N sings along. “And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come is this in my head I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulled out a ring and—

She notices then that he’s dropped to one knee, following the song, he holds open the little black box and she screams. Everyone in their section is screaming. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know!” Spencer sings along to the song.

She’s frozen, can’t believe this is happening and real but she looks at the ring and then at him, her eyes full of tears. “Yes!!! Yes, I’ll marry you!!” She gets down to the ground with him and pulls him into a kiss, he smiles into it, happier than he’s ever been in his whole life.

When she pulls back he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her ring finger. He helps her back to her feet and all she can do is stare at it. “Holy shit?”

“I love you!” He shouts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to love you forever.”

She pulls him into another hug, not even noticing that Taylor did see it. She pointed at them, she got excited and there was footage of it from a million different angles that she’ll get to see later. She finishes the song, running back to make her mark and then she disappears once again to get ready for Evermore.

Y/N snuggles into his side, her left hand resting on his chest, she keeps pulling her hand back to look at it. There’s just enough quiet between eras that she asks, “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.”

“Etsy,” he says with a smile. “It was on my doorstep the other day when you came over.”

“No way?” She laughs, “how long have you been planning this?”

“Since I asked you how you felt about getting married one day,” he admits.

She stands on her tiptoes and leans in for another kiss, “I Love you.”

“I love you,” he reminds her. “Forever and always… but I actually mean that.”

She laughs, “god, you really are the number 1 fearless stan, aren’t you?”

He’s about to reply when the girls behind him poke him in the back, “Hey!” They both turn around. “I texted you the video and my friend got the other angle of Taylor's reaction!”

“She saw it?!” Y/N freaks out.

They nod, freaking out with her, “Yeah!! She pointed at you guys and she was so happy!!”

“Holy shit!” Y/N shouts for the second time. “This is the best day of my fucking life, how does it keep getting better?”

“I don’t know man, but congrats!” The girl says. “You guys are so cute together.”

“Thank you,” they say at the same time.

She looks at him this time like he hung the stars. If you told him just 4 months ago that he’d find the love of his life and get engaged to her at a Taylor Swift concert of all places, he would’ve laughed… now he can’t imagine his life going any other way.

This is where he was always supposed to be.

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alexstalkers · 3 months

Text

Healing Hearts

includes: alex karev in the beginning of his peds residency, a seattle grace mercy west merger which involves a new mercy west transfer....

black fem surgical resident! reader x alex karev

song inspiration: ivy- taylor swift

---------------------

Y/N walked into Seattle Grace, the bustling environment a sharp contrast to her previous residency. As a new resident transfer, she knew she had to prove herself. Her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she reported for her first day on Arizona Robbins' pediatric service.

"You're the new resident, Y/N?" Arizona greeted her with a warm smile. "Welcome to Peds. You'll be working closely with Dr. Karev today. He knows my service and he'll help you if you have any questions."

Y/N had heard of Alex Karev's reputation. He was known for his exceptional skills with children but also for his abrasive personality. She was determined not to let his reputed arrogance faze her.

When she met Alex in the pediatric ward, she was struck by his intense eyes and the air of confidence he exuded. "You're the new transfer?" he asked, not looking up from the chart he was reviewing.

"Yes, I'm Y/N," she replied, trying to keep her tone professional.

"Okay, let's get one thing straight. I don't have time to babysit," Alex said, finally looking at her. "Just stay out of my way, and we'll be fine."

Y/N bit back a retort. "I'm here to learn and help. Let's just focus on the patients."

Their first case together was a young boy named Liam, suffering from cardiomyopathy. The child's condition was delicate, and his treatment required careful coordination. Despite their initial friction, both Y/N and Alex were deeply invested in Liam's well-being.

"His latest tests show worsening heart function," Y/N said, frowning at the results. "We need to act fast."

Alex nodded. "We need to discuss his case with Dr. Robbins. If we don't come up with a new plan, he won't make it."

They presented their findings to Arizona, who decided on a risky but potentially life-saving surgery. Throughout the procedure, Y/N and Alex worked in perfect sync, their combined skills bringing the best possible care to Liam. In the days following the surgery, Y/N and Alex found themselves spending more time together. They worked late into the night, monitoring Liam's progress and making sure he was stable.

----------------------

One evening, after a particularly exhausting shift, they found themselves alone in the residents' lounge. Alex, surprisingly, broke the silence.

"So, you're a Mercy West transfer?" he asked, his tone less harsh than usual.

"Yeah," Y/N replied, sipping her coffee. "Since the merger. What about you? You've been here a while, right?"

"Yeah, since my intern year." Alex said. "It's a great program. "

Y/N nodded. "I can see that. But I like it so far. The team is great, and the cases are challenging."

Alex looked at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You handled Liam's case well. Most new residents would have freaked out."

Y/N felt a warm flush of pride. "Thanks. You weren't so bad yourself."

--------------------

As the weeks passed, they continued to work together, their initial animosity giving way to mutual respect. They shared stories about their backgrounds, their dreams, and their fears. Y/N found herself looking forward to their shifts together, her heart skipping a beat whenever Alex smiled at her. One day, as they were preparing for another surgery, Y/N noticed Alex seemed distracted. "Everything okay?" she asked gently.

Alex hesitated before answering. "Just...family stuff. My brother's in town, and it's complicated."

Y/N placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Alex looked at her, surprise and gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I might take you up on that."

Their bond continued to grow, each moment together strengthening their connection. They laughed more, confided in each other, and began to realize that the line between professional and personal was blurring.

One night, after another successful surgery, they found themselves standing on the hospital roof, the city lights sparkling below them.

"You know," Alex said, his voice soft, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you're here."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. "Me too, Alex. Me too."

As they stood there, side by side, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. In the midst of the chaos and the heartbreak of Seattle Grace Mercy West, they had found something unexpected: each other.

--------------------

During the weeks following their initial meeting, Y/N and Alex found themselves thrown together in a variety of challenging cases. Each case revealed more about their personalities and work ethics, slowly breaking down the walls they had built around themselves.

In one particularly intense case, they treated a toddler with a rare genetic disorder. The child's condition was rapidly deteriorating, and both Y/N and Alex had to rely on each other to come up with a treatment plan.

"His genetic markers indicate a possible enzyme deficiency," Y/N pointed out during one of their late-night strategy sessions. She was surrounded by stacks of medical journals and lab reports.

Alex leaned over the table, scanning the data. "Good catch. Let's run a specific panel to confirm and then we can start the enzyme replacement therapy."

Their combined efforts paid off, and the toddler began to show signs of improvement. The victory was a turning point in their relationship. They began to see each other as partners rather than competitors.

One day, after a long shift, Y/N and Alex found themselves in the on-call room, too exhausted to go home. They lay on opposite bunks, the room dimly lit by a small bedside lamp.

"Why did you choose pediatrics?" Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Alex turned his head to look at her. "Kids are resilient. They can go through hell and still bounce back. I guess I wanted to be a part of that."

Y/N nodded, understanding. "I get that. I love their spirit, their will to fight. It’s inspiring."

As the days turned into weeks, they shared more personal stories. Y/N learned about Alex’s difficult childhood and his struggles with his family. In return, Y/N opened up about her own challenges, including the pressures she faced at her previous residency.

Their late-night conversations became a routine, each one drawing them closer. They began to anticipate each other's needs in the operating room, moving with a synchronicity that amazed their colleagues.

One evening, after successfully performing a complex surgery on a newborn, they sat in the hospital cafeteria, finally allowing themselves to relax.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Y/N asked with a smile.

Alex chuckled. "Yeah, I wasn't exactly welcoming."

"That's an understatement," Y/N replied, laughing. "But you've grown on me, Karev."

"You too, Y/N. You too."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the bustling cafeteria faded away. They both knew something significant had shifted between them.

As the relationship evolved, so did their feelings. They began to steal glances at each other in the hallways, their touches lingered a little longer, and their conversations took on a deeper, more intimate tone.

One night, after another grueling shift, they found themselves alone on the hospital roof again, the cool night air providing a welcome respite.

"Sometimes, I wonder how I got so lucky to have you as a partner," Alex said, his voice sincere.

Y/N turned to him, her heart pounding. "I feel the same way, Alex."

He reached out, taking her hand in his. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. They stood there, hand in hand, the city lights below them, knowing that they had found something rare and precious in each other.

He stepped closer, cupping her face in his hands. "Then let's see where this goes."

They shared their first kiss under the starlit sky. From that moment on, they faced every challenge together, their love growing stronger with each passing day. In the chaotic world of Seattle Grace Mercy West, they had found their calm, their solace, and their love.

#alex karev #alex karev x reader #alexkarevxblackreader #black reader #black tumblr #carl gallagher x reader #black women #carlgallagherxblackreader #fanfic x reader #fanfic #black fanfiction #fanfiction #fandom #meredith grey #derek shepherd #greys anatomy

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swiftieinbrazil · 1 year

Text

Taylor Swift performing no body, no crime at The Eras Tour on July 23rd, 2023 in Seattle, WA (USA) - (x)

#taylor swift #tswiftedit #taylor swift gifs #the eras tour #tswiftgif #tswift gif #tswiftgifs #tstheerastour #the eras tour taylor swift #evermore era #evermore album #no body no crime

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seeminglyranch87 · 1 year

Text

Taylor & Travis Timeline

July 2023

July 1 - The Eras Tour ~ Paycor Stadium, Cincinnati, Night 2

Ivy ft. Aaron Dessner (guitar), I Miss You, I'm Sorry with Gracie Abrams, Call It What You Want (piano)

July 4 - America celebrates independence, Taylor gathers with friends at "Holiday House" Rhode Island - see Taylor IG post July 7 (x)

July 7 - Famous last words...

Speak Now (Taylor's Version) released!

The Eras Tour ~ Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, Night 1

with guests Taylor Lautner, Joey King and Presley Cash who star alongside Taylor in the "I Can See You" music video (x)

Fan favourite "Long Live" is added to the set list. Taylor brings out the koi fish guitar and debuts the purple Speak Now dress.

Never Grow Up (guitar) & When Emma Falls In Love (piano)

July 8 - Travis Kelce attends The Eras Tour at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, Night 2 (x)(x).

A custom painted Taylor Swift Eras Tour football helmet that was posted by the KC Chiefs (x)

Travis receives friendship bracelets from Swifties (x)

Last Kiss (guitar) & Dorothea (piano)

a grainy image of Travis, Patrick and friend in the private suite at Arrowhead for the Eras Tour.

July 11 - Taylor attends Questlove's games night (x) with her back up singer Melanie Nyema.

July 14 & 15 - The Eras Tour ~ Empower Field, Denver

N1 Picture To Burn (guitar) & Timeless (piano)

N2 Starlight (guitar) & Back To December (piano)

About You by the 1975 is taken off the preshow set list after Denver.

July 19 - Travis is photographed outside the members-only club Zero Bond in NYC (a favourite club of Taylor's) (x)

July 22 & 23 - The Eras Tour ~ Lumen Field, Seattle

N1 This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (guitar)(x) & Everything Has Changed (piano)(x)

N2 Message In A Bottle (guitar) & Tied Together With A Smile (piano)

July 23 - Travis and Jason record New Heights Ep.50 before leaving for training camp. Episode will be released on 26 July whilst boys are at camp.

Travis Kelce attends training camp with the Kansas City Chiefs in preparation for the coming NFL season at Missouri Western State University in St. Joseph, MO. (see open to public training camp schedule x) Chiefs Train camp runs July 23 -Aug 17. Photos (x)

July 24, 25 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

July 26 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

New Heights podcast ep. 50 airs.

Travis expresses his disappointment that he didn’t get to meet Taylor and give her the friendship bracelet he had made with his number on it (x starting at 25:14)

"I was disappointed that she doesn't talk before or after her shows... so I was a little butthurt I didn’t get to hand her one of the bracelets I made for her…. I received a bunch of them being there but I wanted to give Taylor Swift one with my number on it" says Travis "Your number as in 87 or your phone number?" responds Jason "You know which one."

youtube

(photo of the exact moment Travis says "you know which one")

New Heights posted to Twitter

Jason comments on the New Heights instagram page, saying (x)

"Let’s be honest Taylor’s dad definitely made the right move not introducing her to Travis. He self admitted was trying to slip her his number on a friendship bracelet, truly shameful act"

July 28 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

The Eras Tour ~ Levi's Stadium, Santa Clara N1

Right Where You Left Me (guitar) & Castles Crumbling (piano)

July 29 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

The Eras Tour ~ Levi's Stadium, Santa Clara N2

Stay Stay Stay (guitar) & All Of The Girls You Loved Before (piano) - check out Taylor’s grin when she sings that football helmet line! (x x) ... Taylor did you reach out to a certain football player?

July 30 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

July 31 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, MO

Return to the timeline

Go to previous update -> June 2023

Go to next update -> August 2023

#taylor swift #travis kelce #taylor and travis #taylor swift and travis kelce #87 and 89 #traylor #killatrav #seemingly ranch #Youtube #Taylor & Travis timeline #swelce #TnT #T&T #chiefs #Kansas city chiefs #Tayvis #Travlor #tay & trav

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hayleythesugarbowl · 1 year

Note

omg can you write some more headcannons for mariners?? Like more jarred, george kirby, etc

seattle mariners x reader headcanons

｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • jarred kelenic (pt 1) • julio rodriguez fic ｡⋆୨୧˚

a/n: ok literally you don’t know how happy this makes me that someone out there wants hcs for jarred//the mariners like ahh 😭 thank you so much for this request it made my week but anyways yes my biased self heard jarred kelenic and went with that so his might be a tad longer 🙊 but yes i hope you enjoy!!! 🍒🎀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

being with the mariners would include…

jarred kelenic (part 2)…

like i said, i do have a part one for jarred, you can find it here !!

dating jarred would include…

definitely calls you babe

mentions you in interviews whenever he can

when he was recovering from his injury you helped him relax and stay busy

like so many movie nights and spa day

he loves your eyes

you hype him up before (and after) games

you guys 100% have a playlist together

and he texts you before adding anything to it to check with you

and you know it’s 98% taylor swift

he loves sleeping in with you

you guys run and go to the gym together

whispers in your ear

“you’re just so beautiful (y/n), I don’t deserve you”

his social media is practically dedicated to you at this point

spends as much time with you as he possibly can on off days

he actually doesn’t know what he’d do without you and he just loves you so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

george kirby…

dating george would include…

he calls you before every game

and the games he’s starting specifically

and just talks to you because he needs your support and encouragement

he blushes so easily it’s adorable

so many forehead kisses

you make him laugh when he is too serious

loves spoiling you

like if you so much as mention wanting something in passing—

plays with your hair

has a hand on your waist constantly

he just cares about you more than anything and you’re his world

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

julio rodríguez…

dating julio would include…

loves your smile

always has an arm around you

and he smells so good literally 24/7

he’ll like come home from games

(the one’s that you don’t go to of course)

and you’ll just talk for hours, laughing about everything that happened and telling stories

loves nothing more than seeing you happy

target runs at 3am

you guys are so supportive of each other

picking you up and twirling you around

he loves you above all else and doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this!! lmk if you want any other mariners <3🍒💌

#jarred kelenic x reader #julio rodríguez x reader #george kirby x reader #jarred kelenic headcanons #george kirby headcanons #julio rodríguez headcanons #jarred kelenic #george kirby #julio rodríguez #seatttle mariners #mlb baseball #major league baseball #seattle mariners x reader #seattle mariners headcanons #x reader #headcanon #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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leilanihours · 2 months

Note

🗝️22 with nika 🫶🏻

# THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME

pairing: nika muhl x reader

word count: 675

warnings: paige being a salty third wheel lmao

prompt: "i missed you"

⭑ from lani: promised yall i would still post the celly reqs so here we go td is dedicated to that ! - also not proofread..

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

“SHE DOESN’T SUSPECT anything, right?” you ask paige for what seems like the billionth time.

“y/n, ima give you the same answer i gave you two hours ago: no, she doesn’t suspect anything,” paige rolls her eyes playfully.

“sorry,” you apologize as you grab your suitcase from the conveyor belt in front of you, “i just really want this to go perfectly.”

“dude,” she says, “it will. she won’t admit it to the public but nika is a hopeless romantic, she’ll love literally anything you do because you’re you.”

you laugh at paige’s exhausted tone as she tries to comfort you, “sounds like someone’s not very excited to be an honorary third wheel this week.”

“hell no i’m not excited,” she agrees with a dramatic shake of her head as you both begin making your way to the front of the airport, “y’all got me fucked up with your corny ass shit.”

“please,” you scoff, “you’re just mad azzi couldn’t make it here.”

“and what about it?”

you each laugh as you approach the sliding doors leading to the pick-up and drop-off area. paige specifically asked nika to pick her up there rather than at the gate so you could mentally prepare yourself (per your request).

“alright she just texted me saying she’s two minutes away,” paige reads from her phone, “you ready?”

you nod happily before not-so-sneakily hiding behind the pillar paige is standing next to. you lean against the concrete pole, smiling to yourself at the thought of finally getting to see your girlfriend.

two minutes goes by quickly, and you hear nika squeal, presumably at the sight of paige.

“my twin!!” you hear her familiar voice cheer.

“what’s good, nika?” paige replies as she goes to hug the brunette.

“was the flight okay? did you end up sitting next to some stranger?”

“yeah, the girl that was sitting next to me was actually a huge fan of you, she could not stop blabbing about seeing you today,” paige lies playfully.

“who-“

“okay first of all, rude,” you say to paige as you reveal yourself, “second of all, hi, baby,” you grin at your girlfriend.

“no fucking way,” nika laughs as she immediately pulls you into her arms, “what are you doing here? i thought you had summer classes??”

“do you really think i would pass up a chance to see my favorite girl and annoy the shit out of paige?” you mumble into her shirt as you nuzzle your face into her shoulder.

the girl’s grip on you was almost bone-crushing, you could feel it in the way her hands found their way under the hem of your sweater, brushing against your soft skin in delicate circles. she placed light kisses on your hair repeatedly, as if she was trying to confirm that you were there.

“i missed you so much,” she whispers into your hair.

“i can tell,” you joke, causing her to lift you from her embrace to deadpan at you, “i missed you too, nik.”

“yeah that’s what i thought,” she nods, pulling you back in for another hug.

it feels like the two of you were entangled for hours, and paige felt the same way with how she was awkwardly standing to the side waiting.

“uh..” she interjects, “not to be rude but we got two king-size beds waiting for us at the hotel and i’m hella jetlagged so let’s wrap it up here, yeah?”

you groan at the blonde’s comment before pulling yourself out of nika’s grasp, but lacing your fingers with hers as you let her guide the group to her car.

you begin chatting endlessly about various things that have happened in the past few days, feeling joyous to be able to talk face-to-face with your girlfriend. nika listens intently, savoring the pure sound of your voice that she had missed so dearly.

sure, you guys facetimed every day, but nothing compared to being able to converse from within the comfort of each other’s physical presence. nothing compared to being with each other, period.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

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scottishaccentsareawesome · 2 years

Text

Master Post of My Stuff That I’m Proud of :) (I update this ALL the time!)

My Hangaroo/Hangster Relationship Playlist (Youtube)

My Icemav Relationship Playlist

My Ineffable Husbands Playlist (Aziraphale x Crowley from Good Omens)

My BUDDIE Playlist

My Kate/Tyler (Twisters) Playlist!!!!!!!

(^ I am constantly adding on to these on YouTube, just FYI ^)

Fairytale AU’s

“Two Princesses Fell in Love...” (Rapunzel x Sleeping Beauty AU)

Cinderella Fake Dating AU potential

Top Gun

If Maverick isn’t flying that day, he comes home early... (IceMav ficlet)

Slider Gets an Inheritance from Iceman

“All-American Boy” (Goose x Carole and Hangaroo/Hangster ficlet based on ”All-American Girl” by Carrie Underwood)

What If Wolfman wanted to “adopt” Hangman (original post)

Hangaroo/Hangster Time Travel back to 1986 (very open ending in that I didn’t really end it, so if you want to take it and finish it just let me know so I can read it :) )

Parallel between the Top Gun awards ceremony and another event a few years later (IceMav)

Mav adopts little Bradley after Carole dies and Iceman becomes “Uncle Iceman”...

(^ this one was like the first story-post I did about IceMav and I cannot believe I didn’t have it on here already)

IceMav Holiday Headcanons (Thanksgiving & Christmas)

The REAL IceMav Ending of Top Gun: Maverick

“Top Gun” + “Top Gun Maverick” = “The Notebook” (IceMav)

TGM HEADCANON: The Daggers Take Care of Mav After Ice’s Funeral

Rooster and Hangman Talk after Iceman’s Funeral (Hangaroo/IceMav)

Poker Night Between the Daggers and the 86′ers

Ice Gives Advice to Rooster about Hangman (Hangaroo/Hangster)

Rooster Thinks Hangman is Like the Tin Man and Hangman Thinks...(Hangaroo/Hangster)

Rooster Finally Understands 80′s Love Songs (Hangster/Hangaroo)

“Even Though I’m Leaving” by Luke Combs in the POV of Bradley with Goose, Maverick, and Iceman

“Hungry Eyes” Hangaroo/Hangster Edit

Hangaroo & Bobnix 27 Dresses AU (27 Tuxes)

IceMav Sweet Home Alabama AU

Hangaroo/Hangster How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days AU

IceMav & Hangaroo/Hangster Letters to Juliet AU

IceMav Ocean’s Eleven AU

IceMav The Wedding Planner AU

IceMav Sleepless in Seattle AU

Top Gun “Psych” AU

TOP GUN/MAVERICK ft. TAYLOR SWIFT

IceMav + “Long Live”

Hangaroo/Hangster + “Style”

Hangaroo/Hangster + “Blank Space”

Hangaroo/Hangster + “I’d Lie”

MCU

MCU Characters x Wizard of Oz Parallels

Tony/Pepper/Peter (Parker) Part 1

Tony/Pepper/Peter(Parker) Part 2

Peter Wants to be a Superhero like his Dad Iron Man (but Mom Pepper Finds Out)

Mamma Mia Spideriron Family AU

IronDad & Spider-son - “I’ve Been Waiting or You” (From “Mamma Mia 2″)

IronDad & Spider-son - “My Love My Life” (from Mamma Mia 2″)

Tony’s Promise to Peter and Morgan post-Endgame (lyrics from “Mamma Mia 2″)

MCU Characters as Star Wars Characters

Peter Grows Up Knowing Tony (because he’s friends with Ben)

After Tony gets to heaven (IronDad-Spider-son post)

Tony Walks In On His Young Son Peter Drawing Pictures of a Guy Named Star-Lord (IronQuill)

Stranger Things

Billy Being Raised By His Grandma AU (ft. Harringrove)

Billy Being Raised by His Grandma AU Part 2 (ft. Harringrove)

Billy and Steve go to See “Top Gun” and need a second (or third) opinion

Finding Billy in the Upside Down (with s2 callback)

Harringrove S4 AU + Princess Bride Quote

S4 AU - Steve Chooses Between Eddie and Billy after Finding Billy in the Upside Down

Steve Keeps Billy’s Leather Jacket

Our Flag Means Death

OFMD x “Grease” Parallels

Ed and Stede are the Parents of Another Famous Pirate

Blackbonnet (Stede x Ed) Corpse Bride AU

(S2 FINALE SPOILERS) There is an Inn near the RoP...(Blackbonnet)

****911****

Buck’s s7 Bi Journey set to “Defying Gravity” lyrics (fan art/fan-edit)

Chimney Creates a Bachelor-inspired Office Pool (Bucktommy, Buddie)

Chimney, Hen and Ravi argue about altering the original office pool (Buddie)

What if Eddie kisses Buck while he’s with Tommy...? (Buddie, Bucktommy)

Three Earth-Shattering Events in One Week (7x04)

What if Tommy is in a Helicopter Crash...? (Bucktommy, Buddie)

“911″ -> “8 Simple Rules”-style (Bi Buck, Dad!Bobby, Buddie)

Athena Going Mama Bear on Tommy (Mom!Athena, Bucktommy)

Cruise Ship Doc Asks Buck if Bathena are His Parents (Dad!Bobby, Mom!Athena)

“He Didn’t Have to Be” by Brad Paisley (Buck & Christopher, Buck & Bobby)

Bobby is the Parent Buck Has Always Needed (Buck & Bobby, Dad!Bobby)

The Theme of Parents and Children in 6x10 (Buck & Bobby, Dad!Bobby)

6x11 “Which one?” (Buckley-Diaz family)

Bobby Watching Buck Sleep in the Hospital after 6x11 (Dad!Bobby, Buck & Bobby)

Buck and Eddie Have Trouble Getting Engaged... (Buddie, Firefam)

When Buck and Eddie Become a Couple, They Have to Work Separately (Buddie)

“Hamilton”-inspired Buddie (Buddie, Dad!Bobby)

Multifandom Posts

This Blog Loves Found Father-Son Relationships

Gibbs & Tony - Bobby & Buck Parallel

Mary Poppins was the Doctor’s Nanny (Doctor Who x Disney)

Iceman and Raymond Holt would be great friends - causing great friendships between Ice, Maverick and the 99th precinct in NYC (Top Gun/Maverick x Brooklyn Nine Nine)

#master post #au posts #otp playlists #fandoms #stranger things #top gun #top gun maverick #mcu

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femmeanonymelives · 1 year

Text

Isn't it lovely? (Santiago Garcia x OC)

Santiago Garcia x Singer/Songwriter!OC

Mentioned platonic Frankie Morales x OC

(Santiago refers to her as the nickname "Songbird," but real name is Valerie) Inspired by the song "Lovely" by Billie Eilish (with Khalid)

Series Masterlist

Ari's note: This is pure angst and fluff. Some adult language, usage of alcohol and some spoilers for Triple Frontier. This song somehow keeps showing up on my Spotify rotation. It is very beautiful and heartbreaking. I wanted to write something that deals with this song and somehow it reminds me of Santi.

The rain putters on the window seal.

Seattle.

The warm air fills the room with comfort from the cold, rainy weather outside. Started playing with the keys of the keyboard that someone that I loved bought me for my birthday. Pulls out a small yellow notebook with song lyrics. A familiar tone that I used to play around with when we hang out together.

“Happy Birthday, songbird. You can finally become the real Piano Man,” he joked before taking another gulp of beer as he played with my then-shaggy, long black hair. It was my birthday a few years earlier. A few days before the boys went down to South America and fucked shit up there. Santi hosted the festivities at his house. The boys, their partners, and a few of our mutual friends met up and had dinner. Santi wanted to make his present special.

“Honestly, Frankie could have made that joke, but you honestly made the joke somehow shittier,” laughs softly as I play my legs in his lap. He gives the classic “you know you love me” smirk as he gives me a soft kiss.

“Frankie would have requested Sweet Caroline, but knowing you,” he holds my chin in his hand as he makes look at him in his sweet brown eyes, “you would be performing in stadiums soon, not in a bar. I will be by your side when you headline your first show.”

I moved to Seattle a few years back after the guy I last loved left me for a trip that, according to him, “broke him from the inside out.” I did music before I met him. Choir and piano lessons since I was six. If you are talking to my mother about my musical talents, she blames my father who was a musician that performed at the family bar. Started writing some wanderlust type songs, but never really got anywhere in Florida.

Frankie was the one who introduced us. I am the girl “who can sing Taylor Swift better than Taylor Swift without making it annoying.” He was the pain in the ass that Frankie would constantly tell him to ask me out. He saw I brought out a softer side to Santi, even though Santi is a horrible singer.

When he broke it off with me, he blamed how the fucked the mission was from the beginning, how Tom fucking died, how he was worried what was going to happen to him and his squad, and he was worried how we was going to explain this to me. He wanted his share of the money to go to me so we could move and start my music career.

“Songbird, I fucking love you but I need you to understand that I am doing this to set you free. You don’t need me anymore. I am sorry.” He kissed me like this was the last kiss that he was going to ever take with me. Four years of passion, long-distance phone calls, and stale beer thrown away like Tom’s body near the Andes.

That was the last time I saw him.

Three Years Later

I am back in humid Florida, visiting family and Frankie and performing at a local music venue. I step up on stage. Getting a warm welcome from my hometown crowd. Under the bright stage, I see Frankie and the boys… and then I see him.. Drinking a Bud Light in one hand, and wearing an old baseball cap. His hair and stubble is more gray. He looks tired, not wanting to be there. Worried that Frankie brought him to a trap. I move towards the piano and start playing the song that somehow people are recognizing themselves to. My soft, yet powerful alto voice sings the lyrics when I was alone by myself in Seattle.

“Thought I found a way

Thought I found a way out (found)

But you never go away (never go away)

So I guess I gotta stay now

Oh, I hope someday I'll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near

Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear

Isn't it lovely? All alone

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Hello, welcome home”

As I look up into the crowd, I stare into his eyes like I did years ago. Making me realizing that the song is hurting him the same way he hurt me all of those years prior. I tried to focus on anyone, but him. Tears swell up as I think of us at our happiest as I sing aloud.

“Walking out of time

Looking for a better place

Something's on my mind

Always in my head space

But I know someday I'll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near

Wanna feel alive outside I can't fight my fear

Isn't it lovely? All alone

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Hello. Welcome home

Whoa, yeah

Yeah, ah

Whoa, whoa

Hello, welcome home”

I hear a mass applause from the crowd as I quickly wipe my tears as I look towards the crowd.

I see Santi and Frankie gone. I focused on the rest of my set that focused on songs from my album and a few covers of Fleetwood Mac.

After the show, I head backstage towards my dressing room. I see Santi standing there, mad and regretful at what he did to me. His knuckles are bloody, which he fought with Frankie in the parking lot.

“Songbird, listen to me-”

“Don’t… just don’t call me.. the bullshit you pulled forfeits the right to call me that.”

“Valerie, I am sorry. I fucked up. I should have told you the truth from the beginning.”

“Santi, it is not that… you fucked up this relationship by using Tom’s fucking death for a reason to end it… That is not a good enough excuse for me. Why are you here?”

“When Frankie told me that you were coming into town, I was scared shitless. The money was for you.”

“Santiago Garcia, don’t be fucking with me about this. The one time I see you are telling more bullshit.”

“Val, that money for you and I to spend a life together.” He takes a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. “That money was for you to actually start your career.”

“Bullshit… absolute bullshit! Stop lying to me just to save your own ass.” He grabs my arm and pulls me back in my dressing room. He locked the door.

“That song.. You wrote that about us…”

“I was hurting. Frankie was the only of you assholes to reach out.” Santiago is shocked; he knew Frankie and I were close, but never knew the impact that our relationship had. “Ben couldn’t even look me in the face when I saw him in Seattle.”

“So you wrote a fucking break-up song, Val? I know I was a dick by how I treated you, but I am telling the truth” He sounds more hurt than angry. The song made him seem like the biggest asshole in the world.

“I wrote it because you left me the minute you came back. I was angry. I was in a town by myself, wishing you called and said that you made a fucking mistake, but you didn’t.” Santi grabs me by my now-long dyed red hair and kisses me like he did three years earlier.

“I love you, Val.. and I am sorry for what I did.”

I walked out of the door; not being able to stay there another second without crying. As I head to my rental car after grabbing my stuff, tears stream down my eyes as I whisper to myself in the car, “I love you too.”

#triple frontier #triple frontier boys #triple frontier fanfic #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #oscar issac characters #santiago garcia x oc #santiago garcia x reader #oscar issac x reader

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years

Text

Superman [angst]

Summary: In which Haley Hotchner's life stops resembling a fairytale, and starts resembling a sad pop rock song

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst, references to child abuse but nothing explicit, Haley is just kind of slowly losing her mind, you might recognize a couple of episodes in here if you squint, this is basically canon compliant but make it spicy and sad

A/N: Massive shoutout to @leftoverenvy for editing this & helping me maximize pain on this one, and to @sadgirlml and @greg-montgomery for yelling about the first draft enough that I was inspired to continue writing this.

As with all song fics (but particularly this one, line for line), it is eerily similar to its inspiring song so I recommend giving that a listen! Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

I watch superman fly away Come back, I'll be with you someday I'll be right here on the ground When you come back down

Haley’s life has fallen into a routine. She doesn’t know when it happened, and she’s not too sure that she likes it.

Every morning, Aaron’s alarm goes off. She wakes up to that and wakes up a second time when he whispers, “Good morning.” On the days that her eyes open a bit, he kisses her. On the days that she wakes up and keeps them closed, he doesn’t. It seems that the ritual of saying ‘good morning’ is more routine than she is.

She stays awake after he gets out of bed to shower and gets ready for work in the bathroom, and the empty space next to her grows as cold as their marriage is becoming.

The sound of his briefcase always wakes her up a third time right when her eyes are starting to flutter shut again, alerting her to the world with the sound of metal clasps and shuffling papers. He says ‘goodbye’, calls it out from the kitchen after scarfing down something for breakfast, and then he’s gone with the sound of his car rumbling to life in the garage and then pulling away.

He’s off to work, off to save the world, and she doesn’t know if she’s going to fall asleep in a cold, empty bed tonight. She never knows.

He wasn’t always like this. When they lived in Seattle and he was a prosecutor, he’d been around more. He was home in the evenings, he left later in the mornings, and she often woke up to find him making breakfast for both of them before going to law school or- later on- the office. He’s always had a steadfast sense of ambition, but the hours were never quite as long as they would one day come to be in his future at the FBI.

She had asked Aaron about the hours he worked as a prosecutor, once. They had been on the couch with her legs strewn over his lap, sipping the dredges of the bottle of red wine he had picked up. He was complaining, lamenting about the boss who implied he should be working overtime as the senior DA’s did.

“Why work yourself to death?” she had asked, combing her hand through his hair. It was cropped shorter than it had been in college and he hardly put any product in it, the locks just long enough to drag her fingers through.

“I don’t know.” He had grabbed her hand at the wrist and kissed the back of it, giving her that brilliant smile she fell in love with so many years ago, the one that reached up to the eyes that reminded Haley of his mother. “I’d rather be here with you. Nothing is more important than that.”

When had that changed? Was it when Aaron started working at the BAU, or after he took on the role of Unit Chief? They’d always been a close couple- being high school sweethearts played into that, the idea of navigating life with your best friend and being able to tell the other person anything. When he works long hours now, she wonders if he knows just how much she misses him.

In the blink of an eye, she was desperate for him in a way she hadn’t been for years. His touch in the evenings, his kisses whenever he was within reach, and his voice when he called her from the office or from a hotel room. It was never enough, not anymore. Gone are the days when she didn’t have to cling to every word that spilled from his lips as if it would bring him back to her arms that same minute.

This is the new routine, the one she hates more than anything else in the world. This routine is a phone call, never before 9 PM. This routine is Aaron’s smiling picture on her home screen, never there for more than a split second due to how quickly she answers. This routine is a “Hello?” from her husband, sometimes spoken through a yawn. It’s a reminder that he exerts all of his energy during the day, and he gives her whatever is left over when he’s back in his hotel room.

“Hi.” She can always hear his smile, the tired relief in his voice. He’s told her more than once that she grounds him, brings him back to earth and reminds him of the love in the world when his work shows him the opposite. It’s a little ironic that she hears from him less often during the difficult cases. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” Haley says, and then she doesn’t know what to say. Aaron never used to ask her how she was doing. There were always more important things to discuss, and for years he always knew how she was doing. He could read her like a book annotated just for him, and he was around to do that whenever he wanted to. He never needed to ask, not when he was right in front of her.

‘How are you?’ is a grappling hook, thrown across the chasm that has slowly begun to split them apart. It’s an admittance that he doesn’t know how she feels at any given point, even though they’ve been together for half their lives.

“That’s good,” he murmurs. She can picture him now, still in the suit that he only takes off when he needs to, his tie loosened after a long day of keeping it done up tightly around his neck. He gets antsy with the restriction on his throat; his impatience with the garment rises after eight hours, and he left for work nearly fifteen hours ago. Is he sitting at the hotel room desk, or lying back on the bed? Does it matter, when he’s not here with her either way? “We’re making progress. I’m hoping to be home in a couple of days.”

Haley wonders if her voice sounds hollow and brittle. She wonders if he’ll even notice if it does, or if his mind is still focused on whatever sick, twisted criminal he’s responsible for this time. It’s a repulsive thought, one she hates herself for having; that she could be jealous of these monsters, of the victims her husband helps, because he thinks about them more than he thinks about her while he’s gone. “That’s good to hear.”

Definitely hollow.

Aaron doesn’t seem to notice.

“I can’t wait to be home,” he promises. “I’ve missed you.”

“You, too. Jessica had a dinner party last night. She invited us.” She doesn’t know why she’s telling him. The information is only going to hurt him, and he can’t change the past now. Maybe she doesn’t want to be the only one hurting, as petty as that is.

“I'm sorry, Hales.” The apology is delivered with a guilty sigh. Good. “We’ll make it to the next one; you can hold me to it. Listen, I’ve got to go. Morgan is finally done in the shower; we’re going to review the file again and then get some sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Aaron.” When she pulls the phone away from her ear to hang up, she can already hear her husband speaking to someone else. Paying her no mind as the call cuts off in the middle of, ‘The file, pass me that-’. Forgetting about her, just as quickly as he’d seemed to remember.

It’s not until she’s ready for bed, curled up on her side of the queen-sized mattress with the memory of Aaron occupying the other cold, empty side, that she realizes he didn’t say ‘I love you’ while on the phone. She didn’t say it either.

Gone are the days where it was used as loose punctuation after every conversation, every kiss, after every meal shared and after quiet laughter died down and it was the only thing they wanted to say. Gone are the deliveries of those three words, lips to skin, elation at hearing them as though it’s the very first time all over again. Haley isn’t sixteen anymore, isn’t kissing a handsome senior in the backseat of his dad’s car and hearing those words and thinking, ‘I’m going to marry him’. Over the years she has grown up, the same way Aaron has.

Maybe it doesn’t matter if Aaron forgot to say it, or if Haley did, or if neither of them forgot and just didn’t want to say it all. Either way, she knows she’ll love him forever.

They’ve discussed having kids. They talked about it a little more seriously, back in Seattle. Even more seriously when they were younger. There’s some sick irony there, of them wanting to grow up too soon and now that they’re there, grownups with jobs and a house, things are less certain than they’ve ever been.

That’s not to say Haley hasn’t thought about it recently, because she certainly has. She’s thought about a little girl with her eyes and Aaron’s dimples. A little boy, with Aaron’s cowlick and her childish giggle.

A child, half Aaron and half Haley, a little one to spoil and love and dote on. A kid, to be around and stay home with her when her husband doesn’t. She wants one, and he used to want one, too. It’s hard to say if he still does.

One night, he brings it up. Over dinner and red wine on a rare weekend off, he asks her if she’s thought about having children lately.

“What would I tell them when you leave for work?” she asks, letting the clink and drag of utensils sit in the empty space until he fills it. “You know. You’re off saving the world, keeping busy. We’d just be here.”

“I know that. But you’d both be here, whenever I come back.” He says it passively, with no nerves to be found, like it’s just a fact. Whenever he comes back to the ground, off the jet after being away for days at a time, she’s waiting for him. When that familiar grin flicks across his face, she waits for the punchline. “Just tell them I’m Superman.”

Haley rolls her eyes good-naturedly at that. “I don’t know about that,” she says, and they don’t bring it up again that night.

Alone again the very next night, Haley wonders if maybe her husband is Superman. Tall, dark, handsome, and overcommitted to the lives of random people. Superman would probably take more interest in his wife, she thinks bitterly. Tonight’s phone call hadn’t lasted a full three minutes. Maybe if they had a child, he would linger on the phone a little longer.

Aaron’s relationship with fatherhood is… complicated. That’s the word she decided on a long time ago, and she’s never seen a reason for that to change. His own father was awful, she knows firsthand. Aaron carries around a go bag alongside a suitcase full of irrational fear, things he hasn’t confessed in the dark in a long time but she knows in her heart are still true.

He thinks he’s capable of drinking excessively. Of hitting, and hating, and hurting. He told her that once- in fewer words- the week after his nineteenth birthday when they had gone for a drive after seeing a movie. “I want kids,” he had confessed, driving away from any street lights that could show her his face during such a vulnerable confession. “But, with my… I don’t want to be like him, Hales. I couldn’t do it.”

“You aren’t like him,” she had promised, grasping his hand where it sat on the gearshift- a leftover habit from when Haley’s dad taught him how to drive for the first time with a stick shift. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Aaron. You’re perfect.”

And, sure, she had been a lovesick 18-year-old, full of hope and adoration and on the cusp of adulthood with her high school sweetheart on her arm, but it had also been true.

Down to her bones, back when she was 18 and still now in her 30s, she knows that he could never inflict a fraction of the pain that was thrust his way for years. Maybe one day, he’d believe it too.

Maybe they should have a kid. A baby, one to fall in love with immediately and never stop loving. She wants to have one, he wants one and needs to see that he can have one, that being a hateful drunk of a husband and father isn’t who he is. It makes sense.

Maybe when he realizes he isn’t any sort of danger to their child, he’ll take her away from here, settle their family down somewhere safer. They could go anywhere, do anything. The FBI is stingy, but Haley’s husband does good work at an important job and he’s certainly compensated properly.

They could buy a house in California or Georgia, maybe. They could go to Ohio, the middle of nowhere, unrecognizable to everyone. They could be known as the happy couple, the next-door neighbours with the cute kid, the husband and wife who love each other so much that it annoys everyone else.

That particular dream deflates when one night, in a flurry of ‘what could be’ fantasies, Haley is browsing houses on Zillow in Logansport, Indiana. Aaron slides into bed beside her, kisses her temple and then peeks at her laptop screen.

“What are you up to?” he asks, and she shrugs one shoulder. “That’s a nice city. I was there in March.”

That’s that dream deflated, her balloon of possibility punctured due to the reminder that he’s solved murders in practically every habitable city in the country. “Nothing.” She closes the laptop, sets it on her nightstand, and rolls over with her eyes closed. Aaron settles one arm over her waist, and they fall asleep like that.

When Jack arrives a little over a year and change later, neither of them brings up relocating. Aaron is probably happy with the current arrangement. Haley, for her part, doesn’t want to find out exactly how many other cities her husband’s job has tainted. It’s tainted far too many places, including the FBI building itself.

It always surprises Haley when she visits Aaron at his work. He’s so different there, and she’s not so sure that she likes Unit Chief Hotchner.

She’s heard all about his reputation. Impenetrable, a hardass drill sergeant, a bully. She’s heard all the cracks made about him in that quiet moment before the bullpen notices her, when he’s still in his office.

His team appreciates him, and they respect him. She knows that, but something about the way they groan good-naturedly when he tells them to get to work has always rubbed her the wrong way. She can’t bear to listen to it.

To their credit, he’s a different person when he’s at work. He’s all stiff shoulders, narrowed eyes, his beautiful smile sloped down like he’s trying to hold back a frown all the time. They don’t see him the way Haley does. They don’t see his brown eyes, deep with emotion when he apologizes to her, when he holds her close, when he holds their baby.

He’s not all bad. They just don’t see it like she does.

She brings Jack to the office one day, her beautiful bundle of joy swaddled in a blanket as if that can protect him from the horrors regularly discussed in his dad’s workplace. Aaron is standing on the landing outside of his office, bent over to speak to Spencer at his desk.

He’s Hotch here, not Aaron. Haley doesn’t think she likes Hotch all too well. Aaron shines through a bit, cracks Hotch’s armour when he sees her. “Hi. I didn’t know you were dropping by.” His voice, rough and low and describing something gory she couldn’t make out a moment ago, is something closer to the excited tone she’s used to.

“Hey. I thought we’d pay Daddy a visit.” She bounces her son, and the coo he lets out melts her heart as her husband makes his way over.

“Hey, handsome boy,” Aaron croons, taking the blanketed bundle from his wife. “Are you giving Mommy any trouble?”

“Only twelve dirty diapers today,” she half-jokes.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Penelope, the tech analyst- Haley’s favourite of Aaron’s coworkers, if she had to choose- has caught wind of Haley’s presence, causing the BAU team to cluster around them.

“He’s so gorgeous,” JJ sighs, peering at the bundle in her boss's arms.

Haley thanks her, and then smiles up at Aaron when Spencer speaks. “If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive,” he comments.

There’s no spite in his words, but Penelope touches his chest to shut him up. “Look at his little widdy biddy nose,” she coos as Derek walks up, and she turns to him. “Don’t you want one of these?”

Derek smirks, still in motion on his way to the coffee maker. “Mmm, I’ll stick to practicing.”

The group laughs and scoffs, and Aaron snorts a laugh as his agent walks away. He’s different with Jack in his arms, in the BAU. He’s not quite Aaron, but he’s not quite Hotch, either. He’s in some sort of middle ground, and Haley misses her Aaron but she doesn’t have a single complaint about the smile on his face.

“Congratulations.” Elle, a member of the team that Haley isn’t too familiar with yet, appears out of thin air over her left shoulder with a folder.

Haley and Aaron thank her in unison, and Haley smiles a little more genuinely when Aaron says, “She’s amazing. I’m a little terrified.”

It’s a little funny and a little too true, but Haley doesn’t have much of a chance to think about it. Elle had approached them with her eyes trained on Aaron and a file folder in hand, obviously not over here for the social call that everyone else is.

She passes the folder to Aaron, and Haley cringes at the sight of her son and an FBI-insignia folder in her husband's arms at the same time. She knows, logically, that whatever is in that folder isn’t going to jump out and taint her perfect, innocent baby. That doesn’t mean she wants him anywhere near anything related to the horror’s of Aaron’s job.

She can see it happen; the moment he becomes Hotch again. His gaze hardens slightly, his mouth draws into that downward purse, and he brushes a quick kiss to the top of Jack’s head before handing him back to Haley.

“Well, we should get going,” she says, taking Jack back and holding him to her chest. “You’ve got places to be.” Neither of them needs to say, There’s a case. Not anymore. It’s too routine.

“Sorry, sweetie. I’ll be home before either of you know it.” The pet name sounds wrong coming out of Hotch’s mouth. It sounds like it’s mocking her. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“It’s okay, we’ll be just fine. It was nice seeing you, everyone.” She waves and Jack stretches his arm as though he’s waving too, and everyone coos and laughs and wishes them well before she steps back onto the elevator. The doors close in her face, and the last thing she sees is the concentrated, almost angry look on her husband’s face as he looks through the file.

It’s not lost on her on the drive home that neither of them said, “I love you.”

“Your Daddy is a superhero, Jack.” Haley is speaking to the infant in the backseat as she drives, periodically checking on him in the little mirror she’s put up against the seatback. She likes talking to Jack, truthfully.

He knows her voice, and his eyes light up when she says his name like he already knows it and knows her. She doesn’t know why she’s saying this, whether she’s trying to convince herself or maybe just get him used to this reality before he has a chance to learn anything else, but she keeps going. “He’s a very busy man. He saves the world every single day! Isn’t that exciting?”

Jack gurgles. He’s a great listener, but not much of a conversationalist yet.

“Yep, it is!” She coos. Her upbeat tone fools him more than it fools her, hopefully. An airplane flies overhead, low to the ground like he’s taking off. “Maybe that’s Daddy there. He flies away like Superman sometimes, Jackers.”

She doesn’t need to say the next part. Jack is a few months old; he doesn’t understand a word she’s saying. Maybe she just needs to hear it said out loud, and if that’s crazy then she’s glad no one with working memory is in the car with her, to hear her baby-talking reassurance. “He always comes back, though. Yes, he does, that’s why we can wait for him. Maybe someday he’ll stay here every day, wouldn’t that be so fun?”

She keeps talking in circles for the rest of the drive, cooing about how Jack’s dad is so cool, how he flies around the world- sue her for the exaggeration, but Jack is a baby and ‘world’ sounds a little more exciting than ‘country’- and how he meets so many people.

That night on the phone, she finds out that Aaron did, in fact, meet a lot of people today.

“We did a lot of canvassing. Reid got propositioned by every prostitute we talked to,” he says through a sigh, and Haley laughs a little at that.

“And how did you do?” she teases. Aaron’s silence is all-telling. “Come on, you can tell me.”

When he speaks, it’s hesitant. “Well, I- Just three or four of them, really, and I wasn’t-” It’s cute that as a grown man, she can get him just as flustered as when he was 18. “I didn’t try to, uh-”

“Aaron, Aaron,” she speaks over him, giggling. “I know you didn’t. They need money, and they could do a lot worse than you. I’m not upset.”

She can hear the smile in his voice. “A lot worse than me, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” She lays down in bed, setting her phone on Aaron’s pillow while she talks. “There are a lot of guys out there, and not all of them are handsome FBI agents with a Gucci tie.”

“For the last time, Dave bought that for me before he retired, you don’t throw away gifts, Hales, and I wouldn’t wear it while I’m speaking to prostitutes.”

“Not unless you want them to think you’re loaded,” she teases, and he does that half-laugh exhale that she loves so much. “But, really, it’s okay. I’m not jealous.”

Aaron hums, and she wonders if he’s already in his own bed. “You’re not? That’s good.”

“That’s right, I’m not. Because I know you’re coming home to me, Mr. Hotchner,” she says.

“I certainly am, Mrs. Hotchner. Listen, you should get to sleep soon; it’s getting late. Tell Jack I miss him, okay?” Aaron asks.

A soft sigh escapes Haley’s lips while she makes herself comfortable; it’s more of an exhale than anything. “Of course. He misses you, too. I think he thinks you’re better at holding him,” she jests.

Aaron chuckles, and Haley hears a shifting of fabric that tells her he’s definitely in bed too. “And tell him I miss his mom, while you’re at it. I can’t wait to see you, sweetie.”

“I’ll let him know. I miss you,” she whispers, her voice so soft that she wonders if the phone will pick it up.

“I’ll be home before you know it,” Aaron promises. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Haley responds, her chest aching with it. She loves him so much, she just wants him in her arms, but he’s not here.

Silence on Aaron’s end of the phone stretches out for a long moment before he speaks. “Goodnight, Hales,” Aaron says quietly, and she returns the sentiment softly before hanging up.

While she’s falling asleep, Haley thinks about her husband being propositioned. He’s never been anything but loyal, but their sex life has been lacking ever since Jack came along. She wonders if he was tempted, even a little bit.

Sex was never an important part of their relationship. They both enjoy it, of course; being with the same person for over a decade means memorizing exactly how they like to be touched, and maybe Aaron and Haley are both a bit of a profiler in that sense.

Sex is nice, not necessary. Sometime in their late twenties, when they became real adults, it became more of a chore than anything. Passionate nights still occurred, but they were fewer and farther apart than they had been. Their relationship didn’t suffer when their sex life started to, but Haley doesn’t know if they’ll get it back the way they had it.

Now, they have responsibilities. They’re parents, and Aaron is always busy, and neither of them gets a fraction of the rest they need. If they’re in the same bed, they’re both fast asleep. Unless Jack cries, of course.

Sometimes, Haley wakes up at night when Jack needs something, before he makes a sound. Call it mother’s intuition. Haley wakes ready to comfort and nurture and protect. Aaron is primarily ready to protect. In his half-asleep haze, that brief moment before awareness, all he thinks about is protection.

Haley can see it in the differences between them waking up. She opens her eyes at the first cry, blinks to get herself alert and awake, and then stumbles to the nursery in the dark to see what her son needs. Aaron shoots up to a sitting position when his son cries, one hand reaching for the nightstand where he keeps his gun and the other reaching out to touch Haley.

It breaks her heart the first time he does it, and every time afterwards too. He’s a light sleeper- it’s a wonder he can even sleep on cases, given the noise in hotels- so even after she tells him that she’ll get up in the middle of the night, that he doesn’t have to move a muscle, he still wakes up the same way.

He used to be a deep sleeper. She remembers the first time he slept over in the childhood bedroom, his snores being the first thing she heard when she woke up. Her father was walking around the house, and Haley was not allowed to have boys over. She had muffled the snoring with her pillow when her dad walked by her bedroom door and paused as though he was listening.

When Aaron woke up, he understood why she had done what she did, but was playfully irritated. “Damn near killed me,” he had mumbled, pulling her in for a kiss. “How are you gonna make it up to me, Brooks?”

That was the very same day she decided that, yes, she could wake up to the same face every day for the rest of her life.

At the time, she had no clue that that face wouldn’t be around every day, and that their waking up together in the middle of the night would seem to trigger some kind of trauma response in Aaron whenever he thought their child was unsafe. She had no clue that the cry of their baby would imitate the cries that her husband heard in his nightmares.

Tonight when Jack cries, Haley wakes up in an empty bed. Aaron should have been home by now, the case had wrapped up hours ago, so she picks up her son and goes to look out the kitchen window.

Jack just needs some attention. She rocks him in her arms, hums to him under her breath, and she keeps swaying after she feels him fall back asleep. The sky outside is dark, tinted with the last echo of dusk.

Maybe Aaron stayed late at the office. Maybe there was a delay with the jet. Maybe she should just be able to trust that her husband will make his way back to her, to their home.

Maybe she can’t do that.

She digs her phone out of her pocket and sends him a screenshot of the house’s location on the Maps app.

Haley: <attachment:1 Image>

Haley: Did you forget the address?

Aaron: Very funny. I’m finishing off the case report. I’ll be home before you know it.

Jack is returned to his crib once he’s good and asleep with low chances of stirring. Haley falls asleep in a cold, empty bed. Aaron doesn’t make it home before midnight.

Usually, Haley thinks that she’s very understanding about Aaron’s work situation. He works long nights, late hours, and during just about every holiday she can think of. But he cares. He’s sorry whenever he misses an event, and he’s always a little extra lovey when he gets home after not seeing his family for a week.

Usually, she’s very understanding. But usually, Aaron doesn’t forget her birthday.

They’ve been together for nearly two decades. Haley knows Aaron’s birthday as well as she knows her own, and she knows that he’s had her own memorized since she turned 16.

That’s why when she gets a flower delivery on the morning of her 34th birthday, it’s a disappointment to see the accompanying card signed by the coworkers she hasn’t seen since she went on maternity leave. Jessica comes by to visit and they go out for lunch and play with Jack, and if Haley didn’t know the ache of missing Aaron like a deep frost in her chest, it would feel like any other day. She doesn’t hear from him at all.

Her phone rings that evening, and she thinks maybe, and then she sees the picture of her dad pop up on her screen. The phone call with her parents is nice- a chance to catch up, something they haven’t done in far too long- and she laughs and chats and when she hangs up, she stifles a sob behind four fingers.

Jack is asleep, and she’s careful not to cry too loudly. It’s just a birthday, she’s being stupid, Aaron has been celebrating her birthday for over half her life, and what’s one missed in the grand scheme of things?

And maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, maybe she wouldn’t care so much, except that she’s got 17 years of memories to compare today to. 17 years of homemade cake and clumsily-draped banners and gifts wrapped in paper that seemed to get less shoddy and more polished as the years flew by.

Her 16th birthday had been the first one they were together for. It had been memorable and fun, everything she could have asked for in a sweet 16. Her parents thought she was sleeping over at Sarah’s house, and after the festivities, she had packed a bag and gone to Aaron’s instead.

They didn’t spend much time at his house, and they both knew why. But his father was out of town, his mother fast asleep, and his little brother too timid to say a word, so Haley had slipped through the front door and found herself in his bed. It was their first time together, and she would always remember it as gentle, slow and loving. Worshipping each other’s bodies, murmuring, “I love you” in the dark, soft kisses wherever they could reach. It was clumsy and a bit awkward, sure, but it was the most romantic thing she’d ever been a part of.

When they finished Aaron had pulled out and disposed of the condom, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered, “Happy birthday, Brooks. I love you.”

He calls her ‘Brooks’ on her birthday. She’s heard that one sentence like clockwork, once a year for 17 of them straight, even when she became ‘Hotchner’. Not hearing it today, not having him here, feels like a betrayal of some kind.

She remembers how that first time had felt, how she loved him from the very beginning, the very first day that he had stumbled into the theatre, caught her eye, and quickly backed out.

Grateful that no one has seen her cry now that her sobs have calmed, she wipes away any traces of the tears she had shed. Her other hand fumbles for her phone, but before she can unlock it a message pops up.

Aaron: Hey. Sorry for not calling- we’re on standby at the station waiting for a call.

Haley: It’s okay. When will you be home?

Aaron: I’m not sure. It’s going to depend on how tonight goes. I miss you both.

Haley: We miss you, too. Stay safe, please

Aaron: I promise.

Haley watches her phone, the text bubble appears and disappears a few times, and she wonders if Aaron is trying to figure out what to say or if work is demanding his attention.

Aaron: Happy birthday, Brooks. I love you.

This time, the sob that rises in her chest sits in a bubble of relief. He didn’t forget- of course, he didn’t. He’s Aaron, the same guy who could probably tell her what time of day their first date was. And he loves her.

Haley: I love you too. Be careful out there, Superman

When Haley tucks her phone away, Jack is just starting to wake up. She holds him in both arms, snugly to her chest, and sways him while she speaks.

“He’s very busy,” she murmurs, “But he’ll be here for all of your birthdays. Daddy is very good at birthday parties, too.”

Jack coos, and Haley sighs quietly. “We just need to wait for him,” she says, some sort of twisted mantra-turned-bedtime-story. “He knows we’re waiting, and that’s why he always comes back to us.”

When Jack falls asleep and exhaustion starts to overcome Haley, she puts him in bed and crawls into her own. As her eyes slide shut and she tries to get comfortable in the too-large, too-cold bed, she wonders how long Lois Lane had to wait. Forever and ever, or was there an end in sight for her?

But this is the routine now. She doesn’t know when it happened, and she doesn’t know if she likes it, but it is what it is. Superman will come back for her. She just needs to hold on.

—————

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seeingivy · 7 months

Text

tolerate it

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

previous part linked here

song: (is obviously) tolerate it by taylor swift. minor you are in love by taylor swift mention.

You can’t help but stare at Jean and Mikasa the following morning. The honey sweet smiles, the fact that they share a cup of coffee instead of getting their own – just to end up drinking two cups anyways – and the warm kisses on each other's cheeks.

They’re in love.

The slip of paper sits heavy in your pocket, a metallic taste in your mouth from the blood you drew from biting down on your cheek. The ring on her finger glimmers in the light.

Colt’s at your side, a soft hand on your shoulder, as he nearly breaks you out of your trance.

“Hey. You good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Why’d you ask?” you mumble.

You drive your fork straight into the french toast as a distraction, but too hard that it squeaks against the ceramic of the plate and makes them all flinch in response. Jean and Mikasa turn their heads to you, and you shoot them all an apologetic smile before everyone turns back to their own conversations. And Jean distractedly tucks a stray hair behind Mikasa’s ear, before lacing his fingers with hers.

“Y/N. You’re sure? You’re kind of….”

“Kind of what?”

Colt sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching before he speaks.

“You just kind of had that blank stare in your eyes. Just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about anything.”

You pause, putting your hand on his shoulder this time. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach – the never ending worry you’ve seemed to sow in both of your brothers was almost embarrassing.

“It’s not that, Colt. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just…it’s just about Jean and Mikasa. But…but if I needed you, I would tell you. And-and I know that sometimes I kind of scared you but I-”

Colt breaks a smile, bringing his hands up to squish your cheeks hard, before he starts aggressively rattling your head.

That’s the thing about him. He’d never let you feel bad about it. About him taking care of you – because according to him, it was always his job. You hate that you rely on it so much.

“Only thing scary about you is your bedhead. Or your attitude. Or that god awful-” Colt states.

“Okay, Jesus. You’re laying it on a little thick there.” you respond, trailing your voice.

“I’m glad you’re okay. And that your…your…Eren stuff is mostly resolved?”

You smile. Colt and Levi have one thing in common – that they’ll always be a little bit disapproving of your relationship with Eren (whatever that is) just on principle.

“Kind of.”

Colt squints.

“Well, he actually showed me the documentary after you came back from Seattle. He kind of…told me all that stuff when I asked a while back and it didn’t necessarily make sense. But watching the video, I…kind of feel bad for the guy.” Colt murmurs.

“Me too.” you respond.

The two of you look over at him, at the quiet conversation that he and Armin are having, soft smiles on both of their faces. And then watch those turn into devious grins as Armin digs his fingers into his glass for an ice cube – and then consequently watch Eren slip the ice down Reiner’s shirt.

“You still like him? He just shoved an ice cube down someone's shirt and thought it was funny.” Colt asks.

You frown.

“It is funny. And I’m kind of…putting that on the back burner.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I need everything else to be finished, the book needs to be shut before we….do anything again. I want to say my piece – have the documentary out, do my stupid triple threat performance – before I can even consider anything with him. If…”

Your throat is heavy.

“If I want anything with him again, I’ll have to do it right. I-I have to move carefully with everything from here because…a lot is riding on this. And if I’m not a hundred percent sure yet, I don’t want to push. He deserves better than that.”

Colt smiles, a rare kiss pressed to the top of your head before he stands up. You shoot him a grateful smile before turning back to Jean and Mikasa, watching her balance both of their plates before she leaves to put them in the sink.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you filming today?” you ask.

“Nope. What’s up?”

You pull the piece of paper out and hold it out to him. He reads it over, quickly recognizing it’s his, before he closes it in his fist. The look he gives you is soft, a quiet glance to Mikasa before he looks back at you.

“I’m all yours for today, princess.” he responds.

When everyone leaves for set, you and Jean find yourselves lying flat on the carpet in your room, quietly staring at the popcorn ceiling. His hands are up, holding the little slip of paper above both of your faces, an empty page open at your side, and you’re both uncharacteristically quiet.

It’s almost strange. Trying to broach something so…sensitive with Jean.

Because it’s not that you aren’t friends, but you were never friends like this. It’s like you two knew where loyalties lied. That Jean was Eren’s best friend, that you were Mikasa’s – and if it came to it, you would side with your person. That you had expectations for each other, that you held each other to a higher standard because of it.

To be careful with the person you trusted them with. That Jean could never hurt Mikasa. That you couldn’t do the same to Eren.

You didn’t hold up to your end of the deal.

“Mikasa’s going to ask you to be her maid of honor again soon.” Jean murmurs, voice so quiet you barely hear it.

You give him a quiet nod.

“We’ve got a whole scheme going. Trying to make Amy quit on her own accord so it isn't family drama. It’s fun to kind of mess with her. And the second she’s gone, Mikasa’s going to ask you to do it again.”

You can’t muster a response. You can’t even think about being Mikasa’s maid of honor.

Because why are Jean and Mikasa getting married if Mikasa doesn’t love him half as much as he loves her? If he thinks that she doesn’t?

“I do hope for my future wife’s sake that your silence means you’re going to say yes. Would hate to see you ruin our wedding.” Jean states, a joking tone in his voice.

You crack.

“I’ll say yes. I’m not crazy.” you state .

Jean smiles.

“You could have fooled me.”

You elbow him hard in the side, as you watch the fan spin around.

“You’re a dick.” you state.

“You’re going to have to get me a gift you know? I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”

“Why would I buy you a gift at my best friend's wedding?” you ask.

“Mika’s idea. We’re sharing our lives together. Including, sharing friends. So instead of you guys getting us gifts, Eren’s going to get something for Mikasa and you’re going to get something for me.” Jean states.

“We’ve always been friends. You guys were always there for me.” you state.

“I know that. But, my friendship with you was exclusive to the fact that you were my my girlfriend's best friend. We aren’t really close and I think we both know that. And Eren and Mikasa are close now, have been for some time, and…and you and I can be too. We’ve got something that brings us together.”

You sit up, leaning against the back of the bed, as you dig your feet into the carpet. It makes sense. Jean was always there at your side, and you always felt close with him, but it was almost like you knew that you could never go further than that.

He was Eren’s friend. So in that type of way, he couldn’t be yours.

“What’s that?”

“Eren. No one we love more than him, right?”

You smile.

“You love Eren more than your future wife?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. You know what I meant. And we love Mikasa that way too.”

“Not sure I did…I fear I’ll have to tell her, just on a best friend principle type of thing.”

Jean shoves you, elbow straight to the side that makes you laugh.

“Weirdly enough, Eren and Mikasa started getting along when they talked about me. And they always talk about how nice it is, to talk about me with each other because they get it or whatever.”

You scrunch your nose.

“They’re so weird.”

“Tell me about it. The first time they hung out without me I was almost offended. Like what the fuck did you even talk about? And they were like you, Jean. Like I was supposed to be flattered or something.”

You laugh.

“Oh, god.”

“Thought it was dumb. Then…then Mikasa and I started having our problems. And them being friends…it did a lot for us. Eren talked to her when she didn’t have anyone to talk to about that type of thing, someone who understood what I was like…what it was like to be close with me…sometimes I think it saved our relationship.”

You pause, taking the little slip from his fingers, before you read it again.

you love someone with your entire being and all they do is tolerate it

“Jean. What happened?” you whisper.

Jean smiles, as you lean your head on his shoulder and loop your hand through his arm. He welcomes the touch, slouching back as you both swing your legs out in front of you.

“You only fall in love with three people in your lifetime. I just happened to do it all with the same person.” Jean murmurs.

You’ve heard this before. A dumb thing you’ve heard parroted around - the puppy love, the one that hurts you, and the one that’s just right.

“The first one is the one that looks right. It’s…it’s idealistic. You’re fifteen – you’re on the set, confined into this little bubble, and you think that you’re the first person to figure love out and other people are stupid for not getting it right.. That no one has ever felt the way you have, that you’re the first people to ever love and you’ll be the last ones too. That’s how Mikasa and I were at the beginning. We liked how we made each other feel more than we really liked each other.” Jean states.

“Isn’t that what love…kind of is? Someone who brings out the best in you? Pushes you to do things that make you nervous, support you behind your back?”

Like sending a demo of your first song to the Institute so that you could perform it. Like climbing onto the stage and playing the piano when your original pianist couldn’t. Like writing to the Institute behind your back just to make sure your dream would come true – being so firmly resolute in the fact that you were brilliant that he’d write hopeless letters just to convince them.

Eren.

“I liked Mikasa, from the start. I wanted her so badly that…that when we started dating, I was more happy by the fact that I was dating her. That I got to say that. Not that we were…actually together. And Mikasa, she liked the fact that I would fawn over her. That I basically worshiped the ground she walked on. And I’m not…putting words in her mouth. She’d tell you the same thing.”

“Okay. Keep going.” you nudge.

“The second love is the hard one. That teaches you a lesson about what love really is. And it all boiled down to a simple fact. That Mikasa and I loved each other in different ways.”

“You don’t love her more than she loves you, Jean. She-she adores you.” you murmur.

Jean smiles, glassy tears wavering in your eyes.

“Don’t cry. We are still getting married, you know? And we’re pretty over the fucking moon about it.”

“Then why would you give me that?”

“It was Mikasa’s idea. She wanted you to write that song with me. This is what we did with Eren when we were writing songs with him. Gave him things to think about. Maybe thinking about other people will give you more insight on yourself. Help you piece things together, because you rarely have experiences that are unique to you. And it's a nice bonus to have friends who basically write the soundtrack to your life.”

You sniffle, glaring at him through your watery eyes.

“Of course you made this about Eren.”

“Do you blame me? He wrote a really good song about us. Figured you could do the same.” he asks.

You sigh, barely pushing the air through that heavy block in your chest.

“What did he call it?”

“You Are In Love.” he states.

You hum in response as Jean gives you a smile, before leaning his head against yours.

“Mikasa and I loved each other in different ways. She could be trying her absolute hardest, doing everything she could, and it would never work for me.” Jean states.

“What do you mean?”

“The problems from before bled in. We were too comfortable in what we had, that we wouldn’t leave each other, that it became too easy. That she could pull away and I’d still be there. And part of the problem is me – that Mikasa did no wrong in my mind. I was…enamored by her. Almost like I was lucky to even be dating her, that..that she’d leave if I did something wrong.”

You frown.

“I’d walk into the room and we wouldn’t have seen each other in weeks. She couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I…I never got to see her because of work so I’d fly out to her. Just for her to be dead asleep. And it would make me happy, that I sacrificed my entire sleep schedule just to watch her breathe with her eyes closed. That it was enough for me.”

You can’t help but think of Eren’s birthday – that you were tired from touring and that you had slept through the entire thing. That he wouldn’t even wake you up, that he’d never break what you wanted for what he needed.

“Jean.”

“I’d go all out for her birthday. Throw her a surprise party, have Vanity Fair film the entire process. And the small things she’d give me – calling me a pet name once in a while, giving me a kiss on the cheek. It’s almost like I was working based on a reward system. That if I was good, if I worked hard enough, she would love me.”

You can feel the tears falling down your eyes, choking back that sound in the back of your throat from coming out.

“I’d buy all this…fancy shit for her. Nice dinner sets, the most…expensive couches and stuff. And sometimes when I did, it…it was almost like she’d find it annoying. I would be doing interviewers gushing about her, just for her to come home and say that it was too much. It’s like I was a nuisance. Like all I did was create problems with her.”

Jean pulls out his wallet, before handing you a picture. It’s a polaroid of the two of them smiling.

“That was the day we got engaged. The second time.”

“What?”

“I broke up with her.”

You pinch your lips into a flat line.

“I was sitting there. Watching her, like I always did. And she still wouldn’t even fucking look at me. And I was thinking so hard…why was she my whole world? My literal fucking sky? She doesn’t even give a fuck about me. So I left.”

“For how long?”

“We didn’t get back together until four months after. But…but it wasn’t a break. Didn’t even last a day actually without seeing each other.” Jean states.

You smile.

“Didn’t last very long there, Jean.”

He rolls his eyes.

“She came back to me, dipshit.”

Jean takes the picture back, a fond smile on his face.

“The third love is the one that you never see coming. It keeps knocking on your door until you're ready to answer. And if you’re Mikasa, you wait three whole months for me to come around. Ready to prove it that you’ll work to do it right. And never let me forget it either.” Jean murmurs.

“Really?”

“That’s right. The time apart gave us time to think. I needed that – but she didn’t. She was at my door almost everyday. Sometimes she would sit out there and just talk – and I’d listen. She was being earnest – that she wanted to love me, that she knows she did wrong. And when I let her in, the conversation we had, it was like I was seeing Mikasa, the person, for the first time. That was the person I loved. I wasn’t looking at her as some like…dream girl and I didn’t think she was some goddess doing me a favor either. She was just Mikasa. I proposed right there and it was better than the first time. Not in the idealistic, fifteen year old way. Not in the nineteen year old, all consuming way. Loving her this time around was weightless. And I knew that it was right.”

You smile.

“It’s not as romantic. That we’ve loved each other since fifteen and we’ve never wavered. But…I’d argue that it’s better. Mikasa and I aren’t childhood sweethearts because we’re soulmates. We’re childhood sweethearts because we fought for each other. There’s no fate, there’s no luck, in fact the quite opposite – the love lies in the fact that we won’t let each other go.”

He takes your hands, tears nearly collecting in his waterline.

“Y/N. Mikasa loves me. I love her. There’s not a day that she doesn’t prove it to me now. There’s not a day that I can’t even spend without her because she’s the love of my life.”

You smile, cupping his cheek with your hand. And you get it - that he’s right. That it’s not romantic, but it almost is. Jean and Mikasa fight hellish odds just to end up together. That fate could try its best and never get to them.

That you and Eren being friends, that being together, is a testament to your love. That he fought his way back to you and you were intent on fighting your way back to him.

“That’s nothing short of what you deserve.” you whisper.

It’s enough to make him cry.

“Thank you.”

Jean smiles. It’s the first time that you notice that Jean’s attractive. That Jean’s someone that you really love. That he’s going to be Mikasa’s husband, that he’s going to be Eren’s best friend, that he’s going to be around forever. That he’s earnest, that he loves hard, that you’re going to stand at his side when he gets married.

And that you’re going to give him his dream wedding if it’s the last thing you do.

“Are you getting the drift of why Mika and I wanted you to write this song?” Jean asks.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Jean.”

“Do you believe it?”

You swallow hard.

“If Eren and I can get back to that, when-when I’ve put everything else to rest, then yes. Yeah, we…we’d be the same. That we fought odds to be together.”

“I’m glad your mind isn’t closed to it. That you’re open to the idea of you and him again. S’always something I’ve appreciated about you.”

You smile.

“We aren’t there yet, Jean.”

“I know. But when it comes to it, I can tell you will be. He’s been my person since I was a kid, but you’re my friend too. I’ve got a personal stake in your relationship now.”

You can’t help but beam at him. And in your newfound friendship, Jean divulges everything that Eren’s hiding from you. And you both agonize over the fact that Eren’s so painfully stupid – that he always hides his great gestures of love, moves in silence behind your backs to love you.

You gather everyone around later that day, with Jean seated at the piano at your side. You shoot him a thumbs up as they all sit criss crossed around the piano, excited smiles on their faces. Falco and Gabi doing their secret handshake, Hange and Levi sharing a chair - it makes you smile.

“Are we ready?” you ask.

They all give you a nod, as Eren and Mikasa sit next to each other, whispering in each other’s ears. Jean did as you promised – warned Mikasa beforehand that it was this song – and she all but gave a golden stamp of approval, contingent on the fact that Eren sat with her while the two of you performed it together. And you give the two of them a nod before you take the little slip in your hands.

“The request is you love someone with your entire being and all they do is tolerate it. And it’s from Jean.” you state.

The group of them all give affirmative hums, before you take a seat next to Jean at the piano.

Eren’s stupid songwriting exercise – it was something that he had planned for you, on purpose. That it meant more for you than for any of them – that all of the requests are intended to be of this nature, something personal for you to work with.

Eren asked them to help you in whatever way they thought you needed.

For Jean, and Mikasa by extension, it was that they thought you needed living proof; that you could weather the storm and still be together. That you could come out stronger because of it.

And it’s also why Jean got mad at Connie in retrospect – and Reiner too apparently – who gave more tame requests. But in their humble defenses, Jean said that they gave those so that you wouldn’t get emotional whiplash.

They thought you needed someone to give you the ease amidst the storm.

You love all of them. Painfully so.

Jean starts with the tiny piano composition he prepared, before you sing the song.

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid Use my best colors for your portrait Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it

If it's all in my head, tell me now Tell me I've got it wrong somehow I know my love should be celebrated But you tolerate it

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life Drawing hearts in the byline Always taking up too much space or time You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I Break free and leave us in ruins Took this dagger in me and removed it Gain the weight of you, then lose it

If it's all in my head, tell me now Tell me I've got it wrong somehow I know my love should be celebrated But you tolerate it

I sit and watch you

Mikasa and Eren are the first ones to crush you and Jean in a hug. And when you lock eyes with Mikasa, you can’t be more than happy to be attending their wedding – in whatever way they’ll have you.

“On a scale of one to ten, how pissed will you be if Connie gets drunk before the reception?” Eren asks.

He’s shuffling through the itinerary, per Jean’s request, and the mix of an open bar and a Connie tasked with literally nothing to do in the two hour waiting period is a mess waiting to happen.

“You should give him something to do. Something stupid like getting flowers that he can’t mess up.” Eren adds, before stacking all the papers together.

“Knowing Connie, those flowers wouldn’t even make it out of the parking lot.”

Eren looks up to find Armin standing at his door, an awkward smile on his face, as he gives him a little wave. The camera that he gifted him – or left on his desk with a sticky note when he was filming without a word being spoken – is hanging around his neck as he pads into the room.

“Fuck, my bad. I thought you were Jean.”

“I figured as much. We both know that I’m smart enough to not overlook something like that.”

Eren smiles. Armin takes a seat on the bed across from Eren, retreating his legs back into position as he fumbles with the camera in his hands. He can tell that Eren’s on edge – that Eren always feels around him that way – and all he can do is try to muster his best smile.

“Remember the Met Gala where Jean and Mikasa got super drunk?”

“God. Don’t remind me. I’m genuinely concerned that they’re both going to get alcohol poisoning at their bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“God. I wouldn’t even drink if I were you.” Armin states.

“I’m like a thousand percent sure that Y/N and I will be on sober duty.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah. Jean and Mikasa are so insufferable that they’re doing a combined bachelor and bachelorette. But it was my idea. They just get so clingy when they’re drunk that I just decided we should combine the party beforehand instead of trying to coordinate it when everyone’s already too drunk to function.”

Armin smiles.

“Taking your best man duties very seriously. It’s going to be great.” Armin affirms.

“The anxiety helps. I’m already stuck thinking about like every worst case scenario, but now I can create contingency plans for anything bad that happens. Like if Mikasa somehow ends up in Mexico, I know that Southwest will get here the fastest on the day of the wedding.” Eren murmurs.

There’s an awkward silence. Eren said too much. And his chronic case of foot in mouth syndrome, especially when it came to fucking Armin, has him reeling. Eren’s positive that he’ll spend six hours ruminating about it tonight. Eren can see Armin fidgeting with the camera, running his fingers on the notches at the top.

“If the camera’s broken, Y/N was the one who bought it.” Eren states.

Armin laughs, the smile lines appearing around his eyes, and Eren relishes in it.

“It’s not broken.” Armin states.

“Okay, then it was me. She didn’t do anything.” Eren states.

“Noted. It’s a…it’s a nice camera. The old one, the film got stuck sometimes. Strap got kind of worn out after all of these years so it was..it is nice to have a new one. Thank you, Eren.”

Eren smiles, scratching the nape of his neck, as he feels his throat bob.

“Nothing to thank me for. It’s the least I could do.”

It’s quiet. Eren doesn’t know what to talk about. Should he ask about Annie? Or how filming has been? Or maybe he should just shut up before he embarrasses himself for a second time?

“How’s Y/N?” Armin asks.

Eren deflates. Thank god he bit the bullet first.

“Good. We’re good.”

“Are you guys…?”

Eren smiles.

“Everyone seems to be asking that.”

“In the overbearing way?”

“No, not really. You’d think that, but…it seems like a natural question for you guys to ask. She doesn’t seem to mind it either. But, I don’t know. We’re good. I’m glad she’s back. And…and Colt thinks she’s doing good too, so.” Eren states, leaning back against the headboard.

Armin seems to follow suit, the two of them awkwardly eyeing almost everything else in the room but each other. The books on the shelf, the pictures on the wall – literally anything except for that giant elephant in the room that neither of them want to touch.

“Are you going to try and date her again?” Armin asks.

“Not unless she asks me first.”

“Makes sense. Ball is kind of in her court with the documentary and all that.”

Eren’s throat feels dry.

“Oh. Did you watch it?”

Eren had offered it to him the second it was done. Because some people were more easily swayed, more quick to turn to his side when he was finally ready to ask for help – Levi, Hange, and Jean. But other’s needed to be convinced, needed to see it as it was to actually understand it – Mikasa, Historia (before she was in it), and Colt.

Eren knew that Armin would be in the latter. But when he had offered, Armin opted to break the disk in half instead.

Eren figures it was what he deserved.

“Yeah. Y/N. She gave it to me when she got back. Told me that she would never talk to me again if I didn’t watch it.”

Eren laughs.

“She would talk to you. She’s just being dramatic.”

“Well, she spent an entire two years ignoring all of us. So I wouldn’t exactly put it past her.” Armin states.

“That’s very true. But really, I feel like she was kind of using that to her advantage. She wouldn’t do it again.”

“To your advantage. Though I suppose for you two, your wants have always been the same.” Armin adds.

Eren eyes the picture on the wall – of Lana, Connie, Sukuna, him, and Teddy all swamped around Connie’s little cake – as he looks back at Armin.

“I’m sorry for breaking the CD when you gave it to me. I should have watched it the second you offered.” Armin states.

“That’s okay, Armin. I probably would have done the same thing in your position.” Eren states.

“No, you wouldn’t have. You…you were always better than me, than all of us, in that sense. Always really quick to forgive. I know it’s…it’s because you expected little from people after what happened with Zeke, but…we should have given it to you. Should have done more.”

Eren fights the urge to scoff. The premise of the statement is ridiculous to him. Those type of rules don't apply to him. And as perceptive as Armin is, he knows that’s exactly what Eren is thinking.

“We’re serious. There’s…there’s a lot of people you didn't have to forgive. And…and some of us didn’t even ask and you did it anyway.”

“I know your intentions. I broke your fucking camera, you had every right to do-”

Armin’s almost exasperated.

“You know how you were quick to forgive Y/N, for not talking to any of us when all of that stuff happened with her music and all that?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you do that?” Armin asks.

“Well, she had a lot going on. I’m just thankful that she came back to us eventually. And…and it’s already hard to hold anything against her, she…she always does the right thing. But that specifically. I can’t hold it against her if other things are going on.” Eren states.

Armin nods.

“That’s what I mean. You’ve always thought about everything like that. Given grace where it deserved. I’ve never had a shred of that in me. You…you did what you did and I didn’t even think twice about what it had meant. I mean hell, even Y/N had a little bit of an inkling that something else had to have happened. I just fully believed it. And even when you tried to tell me, I still didn’t consider that you could have been going through something else. Not until she came to me and advocated on your behalf.”

Eren smiles, putting a hand on Armin’s shoulder. He makes a mental note to thank you later. You prove time and time again that you’re far too good for him.

“That’s not your fault for believing it. I’m just a really good actor.” Eren teases.

Armin rolls his eyes, shoving him lightly to the side.

“Oh, fuck off. I’m fighting the urge to strangle you right now. And how’d you even come up with that bullshit anyways.?” Armin asks, referring to what Eren had said to you back in Seattle.

Eren grins.

“You have to promise you won’t tell Y/N.”

“What? You haven’t told her?”

“No, no. She knows everything but I refuse to tell her this part because she’s going to gouge my eyes out.”

Armin tilts his head to the side, confused.

“Do you remember when we were at the birthday dinner and Vinh kept asking her if she was dating Sukuna? Going on about how you can’t fake chemistry like that?” Eren asks.

Armin’s perceptive.

“Holy shit. You got the idea from her.”

Eren nods.

“That’s right. Her whole ‘I’m an actor, this is part of my job’ defense was like the first thing that came to mind when I knew I had to send her away. And that’s just what came out of me at that moment.”

“Good move on your part. I wouldn’t tell her that either.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“It’ll be short lived. I’m sure Sukuna will tell her the first chance he gets.” Eren adds.

The two of them marinate in the silence, the weight of the conversation sitting with them. It seems pretty lackluster to an outsider – that if you were there you would have forced them to hug it out – but they were hardly the type to communicate with their words in the first place, the meaning was all the same.

They had made up.

“You have to give credit to Y/N. Your girl is trying to ride as hard for you as you did for her.”

Eren frowns.

“What do you mean? Because she got you to watch it?”

“Yeah. That. but also the award show thing? I’d be scared shitless if I was Scott Clarkson. Whenever she talks about it, it kind of freaks me the fuck out how much she doesn’t seem to care about what people think. Though in hindsight, that was always kind of her thing.”

“What awards show thing?” Eren asks.

Armin pales.

“She didn’t tell you?” Armin asks.

“No.”

Armin shakes his head.

“All in good time.”

Armin pushes off the bed, giving him a quick look over the shoulder, before consequently flashing the light of the camera in his face. Eren sees the polaroid front and center – his eyes pinched shut in shock – on the wall the following morning. And the caption makes him smile.

eren jaeger redemption arc. circa 2024.

“Have something for you two.” Levi states, slamming a manila envelope right in between you and Eren – startling you both from what you were doing.

Eren was playing a very aggressive game of Cup Pong with Lana on iMessage, claiming that the two of them have been playing for the past three years, nonstop. And you were busy finishing up Gabi’s request that you had pulled out of the little bowl this morning, so excited to play it for them tonight.

write about the bestest of friendships!!!! like so good that you can’t even stay away from each other bc of how fun it is to be together.

Recruiting Falco to sing one of the verses with you later – because you were almost positive that this request was about him – felt like cheating, but your humble gamemaster Eren approved it.

“Jesus, Levi. What the fuck do you have against the postman? He make a comment about how short you are or something?” you ask, flipping over the little envelope in your hands.

“Look at the sender.” Levi seethes.

You look over at Eren, as the two of you catch sight of the little name of the corner, almost positive that your eye was twitching now.

Scott Clarkson, Stone Studios, 15th Street, New York City

It’s addressed to both you and Eren.

“What the fuck?” you seethe.

Eren takes the envelope from your hands, nimble fingers sliding open the little seal, and a magazine falls out. Eren takes it into his hands, nearly groaning, before picking up his phone and shooting a quick text.

It’s a picture of Scott Clarkson – sitting on a literal throne with a crown on his head – with Lana and Eren leaning on the little handles at the side.

Scott Clarkson: King of an Industry – How This Businessman Jump Started the Careers of the Institute’s Frontrunners

You look at Eren at your side, quickly clocking that it’s Lana and Sukuna that he’s texting.

“You’re kidding.” you state.

“It was stupid. We refused to let him run it at the time. I’m guessing he got wind of what’s happening this weekend and wanted to get ahead of the curve.”

It was simple. Eren’s documentary was going to come out on Friday. Hyla just happened to have a song featuring Ricky James releasing on Saturday. And almost too perfect, the sixth episode of Attack on Titan – your first of the season – was going to release on Sunday.

And with Levi’s approval, you and Eren were going to attend the Institute Awards pre-show and the event itself next week to put an end to them for good.

“How could he have known?” you ask.

“He has eyes and ears everywhere. They’re preparing to distribute the film – I’m sure he must have seen it shuffled around in the paperwork somewhere.” Eren states, shrugging.

You turn to Levi, staring into his steely gray eyes. You eye the magazine, now lying flat on the table, before looking back up at him – knowing for a fact he understands. That he has the same thought as you.

“Do you think that we could do it in time?” you ask.

Levi looks at the picture, corners of his mouth twitching, before he turns back to you.

“I’m positive he knows a guy. We’ll make it work.” Levi states.

You give Levi a smile, looking back at the magazine. It’s a comforting press to the shoulder, accompanied by Levi slamming the keys on the table at your side.

“Take Eren with you. It might rain.”

“You got it, Levi. Thank you.”

Levi cups the bottom of your chin with his hands, a warm smile on his face, before he shakes his head and walks away. You turn to Eren, giving him a lopsided smile, before you jingle the keys in front of his face.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

“I’m pretty sure Levi just demanded that I go with you.”

“I was trying to be cute and you just ruined it.”

“Can it even be considered trying if it’s already something you’re so effortless at?” Eren jeers, snatching the keys from your hand as he pulls you up.

“You don’t have to be so patronizing, Eren.”

“Leave it to you to confuse my affections with ill will.”

Eren swings the door open, and at the first burst of chilly air, aggressively wraps the extra scarf left on the hook around your neck before shutting the door.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“The airport.”

Eren features curl in confusion as he opens the door for you, tucking you into the seat before taking his at your side.

“The airport? Who’s coming?”

You bite your cheek. Becuase Eren does that thing – that thing that guys do when they reverse out of a parking spot. His arm is spread out on the back of your seat, his face close to yours as he looks out in concentration, and you take the chance to fully ogle him. Only you start searing with embarrassment when his eyes flicker over to you – giving you a wink in recognition. That he knows you were fully checking him out.

“Some friends of mine. I..I kind of owe them a favor. And contingent on that, they refused to ride in the bus with everyone else.”

Eren squints his eyes, the stoplight's red glow reflecting on his features. And when he looks over, his eyes are so pensive that you feel bad for keeping it from him for so long.

“It started out simple, I guess. When…when we came back from Seattle, I felt like there was so much…floating around in my head. So much I was finding out, so much I was realizing, that I could barely come to terms with all of it at once.”

Eren’s gaze shifts, focused back on the street, as the little drops hit the glass.

“I wrote it all down. Everything I learned, what I can’t forget. That I can’t live my life when I’m untouchable. That the wound is where the light enters. That you can’t learn your lessons for people, that sometimes you just have to be there to catch them. You can have grace for yourself but keep yourself accountable too – those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. That hardship can be good – that sometimes it can even make the good times feel even better.”

You look over at Eren, the red reflecting on his skin.

Eren’s smiling at you – like he’s proud of you. That he knows that you’re repeating the words – his words, Michael’s, Levi’s – everyone who has been pushing you forward.

That you’re taking them to heart.

“That I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you. And to me. I don’t know what’ll happen, but I refuse to be silent about it. I’m done doing that.” you whisper.

You reach for his hand, leaning closer. And he follows your suit, your noses nearly brushing against each other, stilling your blinking – just so you don't have to tear yourself from his green eyes.

“Are you with me, Eren?”

“Think it’s impossible for me to be anywhere else.” he whispers.

The warmth in your throat is suffocating.

“Eren?” you whisper.

“Yeah.”

You pinch your eyes shut at the horrible timing.

“The light is green.” you murmur.

Eren’s eyes falter, a curt nod, before he releases your hand and continues to drive forward.

And takes you all the way down to the airport, the quiet silence enveloping your space.

You open up the car door, a light sprinkle and the earthy smell in the air, as you lean against the hood, hands tucked into your pockets. Eren follows suit, taking the spot next to you, as you watch your breath visualize in the cold, crisp air.

“Back in the day, Satoru Gojo did me a favor. He had the chance to do an ensemble showcase, and he lent that time to me, so I could make a point.” you state.

Eren turns his head towards you, and immediately looks at the group of people piling out of the airport – the distinct white, green, and pink hair catching him off guard.

“It’s time for me to make a point again. I figured I could use all the help I could get.” you state.

Eren fights the urge to bite his cheek, the glimmering smirk you give him before pushing off the hood of the car making his heart pound. He watches as you excitedly run up to Satoru Gojo – and Suguru Getou by extension – wrapping your arms around the two of them and pinching their cheeks.

And it only gets worse when his favorite kid comes running out shortly after – followed by Lana and Sukuna berating him – and clings straight onto his legs. Eren’s exasperated, bringing his hand down to Teddy’s curly hair just to make sure.

That they really were here.

“Eren! Eren, pick me up! Pick me up!”

“You could say please, Teddy. He drove all the way here just for you.” Lana states, giving Eren a warm smile as she places her hands on her hips.

“Please, Eren!”

Eren smiles wide, the warmth in his chest reverberating, as he reaches for Teddy’s sides and gets a wet kiss to the cheek from him return. There’s a deep yearning stinging in Eren’s chest as you walk up, looping your arm under Sukuna’s as you press your cheek to his bicep.

Eren can barely contain it. He’d strangle you if he could.

And Satoru Gojo’s quick to follow, aggressively leaning his weight on both you and Sukuna, as he gives Eren a bright smile.

“Eren Jaeger. Just the guy I wanted to see.” Satoru sings.

“Is that right?” Eren asks.

“We’re all going to battle for you, kid. How do you feel? Your vicious guard dog plans to leave no corner unturned.” he responds, ruffling the top of your hair as Eren watches you shove him off.

Eren frowns.

“You don’t have to…do something for me. I’m not exactly sure what it is you’re doing, but you don’t have to.”

You smile. It was almost aggravating how cute he could be sometimes.

“Don’t worry kid. I love to stir shit up. I have a feeling this one’s going to be in your favor.” Satoru states, giving him a lingering smile before getting called up to one of the cars lingering in front.

Eren turns to his side – Teddy wiggling in his arms – as he watches you excitedly smile at Lana and Sukuna. And when you turn to him, the pale fluorescent light making you glow, you stand out more than anyone else standing there.

Eren swears Satoru’s chanting “fuck a bitch named Scott Clarkson” in the car ahead of him and realizes that Levi’s probably in for the biggest headache of his life.

“Ready to go?” you ask.

Eren gives you a quiet nod, as you reach forward with your grabby hands for Teddy and buckle him into his seat at the back. Lana and Sukuna are at his sides, Eren watching them smile at each other through the rearview.

Eren tries to stamp it out the best he can. That glimmering flare of hope that’s burning in his chest.

And for the first time in years, he fails to do so.

You were keeping his candle alight.

You know for a fact that things will work in your favor, this time around.

Hyla Clarkson, in her extreme annoyingness, moves the release date of her song up to that night – ruining the perfect plan that you had written out. Satoru’s more upset about it, that she ruined the perfectly cinematic moment that would have been.

Her new debut song smushed in bewteen Eren’s documentary and your comeback.

But then you listen to the song and relish in the fact that karma is real. That all of the bad is canceled out by good – and that when it came to them, sweet justice was going to be served.

There’s no such thing as bad PR. And from your standpoint – people talking about you, you being the center of attention, was the one thing that you needed leading up to the awards show.

It’s almost too perfect.

You had every intent to milk the fact that Hyla Clarkson just released an entire song about how big of a bitch you were.

And make her regret it.

Starting by releasing a song the following morning, your first in three years, to ensure hers won’t occupy the top spot.

next part linked here

an: ARE YOU READY FOR IT (revenge era for someone who actually deserves it)

(hyla clarkson you will develop a cough in three days for naming your album pop princess pretending like you don't know the entire aot cast calls y/n princess BC she's a pop princess...)

(I plan to write at least a chapter a week so we can wrap this sweet baby up!)

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight @th0tformikasa

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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