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inuyashaluver · 6 months

Note

can you write a jessie x hockey!r, where r gets into a fight during one of her games and jessie is watching from the stands with some of the chelsea players? thx

cheeky - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which your girlfriend brings her friends to her cheeky girlfriend’s game

warnings: jessie still plays for chelsea!! let’s pretend ucla offers women’s hockey 🫠 swearing, mentions of a fight, suggestive

a/n: you guys don’t understand how much this request has infiltrated my tiny brain, thank you you so so much, my love, enjoyyyyy

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, jessie were quite literally some of the nicest people alive. every time someone was around the two of you for either a short or long time, they came out feeling lighter, happier and all round just more positive.

you and jessie just radiated love, a special bond between the two of you that was just undeniably beautiful.

—

you and jessie met at a college party years ago. you both went to ucla yet never crossed paths until this party. you weren’t really a party goer and neither was jessie, you both found refuge in the backyard of the house you were at.

both of your friend groups had unknowingly ditched you and you both wanted some air, away from all the drunk frat boys and sorority girls.

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?” you ask the brunette where she sat on a small bench. her head snapped up from her phone at hearing a familiar accent. canadian.

“oh, yeah, go ahead!” jessie stutters, scooching over a little and patting the spot next to her. you smile at her gratefully, sitting down with an exaggerated huff.

jessie lets out a laugh when you sat, both of you looking at each other with bright smiles. you both thought the other was breathtakingly gorgeous, feeling like the party was a little worth it at this point.

“you sick of seeing people basically fucking each other everywhere too?” you ask her with a shake of your head, your eyes falling on a couple making out in a way that should definitely be behind a closed door.

jessie chuckles, looking down at the cup in her hand and nodding while taking a sip of it. “that and my friends ditched me” she rolls her eyes, you nudge her shoulder with yours, “mine too, don’t worry” you grin, making her return one shyly.

“i’m (y/n) by the way” jessie smiles, repeating the name in her head that she would surely never forget.

“jessie” you smile at her, pink cheeks a little evident on the both of you when you made eye contact again.

“sorry if this is weird but are you from canada?” jessie asks nervously, your eyes widen comically, your face brightening at the girl's question.

you didn’t really have many friends from back home who came to the states for college. sure there was a bunch of canadian girls at college but none of them were this pretty. or this easy to talk to.

“i am! don’t tell me you are too?” you question, jessie smiled at your excitement, her heart beating quickly at your glistening eyes. she nods, making you start rambling with where she was from.

you both continued to chat and it was scary how much you had in common.

the conversation was full of laughter, shared jokes and most definitely a shared attraction. “so, jessie, what do you do besides being an environmental warrior?” you say cheekily, the girl scoffs, slapping your thigh gently and rolling her eyes,

“i play soccer” she mocks, you give her an impressed smile as she explained how good she really was, “mhm, i should come and watch you sometime, superstar?” you flirt, giving her a charming smile that had butterflies swarming in her stomach.

you’d both gone far from friendly conversation, the flirting taking over after about 2 hours of you familiarising yourself with each other.

“yeah, maybe you should, and you? miss number solver?” she teases back, referring to you doing an accounting degree.

“i play hockey” you move a little so you could face her better and she does the same, although, her face has a shit eating grin on it.

“what’s so funny?” you narrow your eyes at her, “you’re so canadian” she laughs, you shake your head as she throws her head back in laughter, clearly enjoying how you’re not even defending yourself.

she encourages you to talk about your sport and to say she fell in love with you there was an understatement. you spoke with so much passion she really loved to see and hear it.

you also admit you fell in love with her when she talked about her sport, but even more with how intently she was listening to you, soaking in every word you said and clarifying things she didn’t understand.

you both felt something bubbling under the surface as you talked, so much so, when the party started to filter out, she asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and who were you to decline?

the teasing and the flirting throughout the whole night was so unbearable, you asked her out on a date without a second thought, smiling brightly when she accepted without any hesitation.

you both began to date after a few months, becoming one of the ‘it couples’ around campus when everyone could truly tell how much you were in love with each other.

you went to each other’s games with bright, adoring smiles, wearing each other’s jerseys with pride.

you had study dates together, most of the time getting distracted but neither part was complaining.

you were there for each other throughout all the ups and downs, talking and listening to one another for hours and somehow feeling not enough when you were with each other every second of the day.

you’d both established a career before you even graduated college, star athletes in the making in your respected sports.

you’d do anything for each other, so much so you moved with her to england when she signed her contract to chelsea.

—

while jessie played for chelsea, you still continued to play hockey in england also. it was hard being away from home but jessie made it all better.

your continual support for each other offering a sense of security that nothing else could. it also helped that you both represented canada nationally, often getting the opportunity to go home together.

—

the chelsea girls knew you too well, you came to every single game without fail with a bright grin on your face in the ‘fleming’ jersey that was almost worn as much as your own.

“your wife’s here” niamh teases as she warmed up with jessie before a match, the two of you weren’t married, or engaged even, not yet at least but this didn’t stop niamh from wishing you were, knowing how much her best friend adored you.

“where?” jessie grins, stopping all movement and frantically looking for you, niamh directs her head to where you were sitting in the friends and family section and her heart swelled with pride.

you wave at her brightly and she returns it instantly, her face growing warm at the smile you sent her, snapped out of her trance at niamh’s laugh. “such a sap” she smiles, jessie just gives her shoulder a little shove, continuing to warm up.

when the match was over after an easy win, jessie bounded over to you without a second to waste. “hi, baby” you smile as she walked into your arms, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care.

“hi, gorgeous” jessie says breathlessly, pulling you into a sweet kiss with her hand on your cheek. you smile against her, your own hand on the side of her neck, your thumb brushing against her skin gently.

“my superstar” you say as you pull away, brushing away some stray hairs from her face before pulling her into a tight hug.

“gotta impress my wag, baby” she says cheekily, kissing your cheek repeatedly to make you giggle, working successfully like it did every time.

“i’m definitely impressed, baby canada” you smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips as you pulled away slightly.

her hands make her way to your waist, rubbing up and down gently as you chatted, only lasting for a couple of seconds before you ushered her to interact with the fans.

“i’ll see you at home, beautiful” she winks, pecking your lips before running away, shouting a quick “i love you” over her shoulder that you quickly returned before leaving to drive home.

—

you had an upcoming game, an important one at that. you’d been nervous about it all week, jessie frequently having to calm you down so you could breathe. you were the captain, both for this team and the canada team so a lot of pressure fell on your shoulders.

the only reassurance you had was knowing jessie would be there, even inviting some of her teammates to come and watch you since they had the day off.

jessie wasn’t one to miss an opportunity where she got to ogle her talented girlfriend and show you off at the same time so she was extremely excited.

the morning of, let’s just say it was extremely difficult to get you out of the house.

“what if i fuck up?” you whine, turning from the door and walking back to jessie who was watching you from the doorway. “you won’t” she assures, pinching your cheek softly before turning you around and giving you a soft push to the door.

you turn back around, “what if something goes wrong?” you say nervously, “baby, you’ll be fine, we can deal with it” jessie chuckles, you throw your head back in annoyance.

the people who only knew you from hockey would be shocked to know you did this before every game. they’d be shocked to know how soft you were when it came to your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to go” you groan, jessie draws you in by your waist, her arms wrapped around them securely, “baby, you’ll be amazing, like always” jessie says earnestly, her brown eyes looking directly into yours so you knew she wasn’t lying.

“but you don’t know that” you pout, jessie quickly smiling before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“i’m your girlfriend, i know everything” she says cheekily, pecking your lips a couple of times and managing to pull a small smile out of you.

“you go do your best, that’s all i want from you” she smiles, her hands now cradling your face as your arms wrap around her. “okay” you breathe out, determined.

smiling before pulling her into a breathless kiss that made both of you feel dizzy, sharing a quick i love you before she had to physically push you out of the house, knowing you’d convince her to stay.

—

jessie made her way to the arena in your jersey, your number written neatly tiny on her cheek. she was accompanied by niamh, zećira, aggie and hannah.

to say jessie got teased the entire time was an understatement but she didn’t care, she had no shame with the amount of love she had for you.

when you skated out on the ice with the ‘C’ over your heart, you had no ounce of nervousness at all. a complete contrast from the morning.

the truth is, on the ice, you were ruthless, completely contradicting how you were off the ice.

you carried yourself with complete confidence, expecting nothing but the best. you were a little rough but one of the best players and everyone knew it. you didn’t take any bullshit.

you were strategic, smart and calculated. you knew what you were doing and you were the captain both in this league and nationally for a reason. a team leader without fail. a role model, a borderline legend.

jessie and her friends cheered loudly for you when your name was announced on the loudspeaker. jessie watched as you waved around the arena before locking back in, skating around the ice in preparation for the game.

jessie was on the edge of her seat the entire time watching you, scoring 2 points in a short amount of time. you were playing exceptionally well, jessie’s heart swelled with pride but she was extremely nervous how this one player kept trying to rile you up.

she knew you didn’t take any disrespect and knew this girl was about to get her ass handed to her.

the girl was being overly physical with you and you would counter it every time. she was the other captain and knew she’d get thrown into the box if she tried anything too much. her behaviour was surprising.

but the girl continued, having the nerve to be near you every time with something to say every two seconds.

you’d ignore it, having dealt with people more annoying than this but it flipped when she started talking about jessie. your jessie.

she started with the insults about you until she said, “is your girlfriend some sort of puck bunny?” you fucking lost it.

you dropped your stick and both of you break out into a heated fight. fists flying before you grabbed her by her shirt, slamming her into the glass and spitting out words that we’re definitely not family friendly. jessie’s eyes were so wide in shock, never really seeing you in a fight like this before.

“talk about my girlfriend like that again and i’ll shove the puck down your fucking throat” you exclaim, getting pulled back by the referee and getting told to go to the penalty box.

you send a glare to the girl and she falters almost instantly before you skated to the box. you sat down with a huff, arms crossed over your chest as you watched your team dominate the other.

jessie shook her head while she looked at you, niamh and zećira cheering you on throughout the fight and even more now that you were in the box.

when your ten minutes was up, you played the rest of the game with passion, finishing with an easy and well deserved win. jessie ran down to where the change rooms were, her teammates waiting nearby.

jessie watched as you skated off the ice, catching your breath as you quickened your pace to jessie. her face was etched with worry as you approached, watching as you took off your helmet hastily and took out your mouth guard.

“hey, baby” you say brightly, bounding over and wrapping jessie up in a hug, your face instantly tucked into the crook of her neck, your cold nose brushing against her warm skin.

“for someone that just beat the shit out of someone, you’re very happy” she says amusingly, her arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

“she deserved it, trust me on that” and jessie did. you pull away from her at arms length, a cheesy smile plastered on your face as you looked at her.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with worry, you nodded, kissing jessie’s cheek tenderly as you drew her a little closer.

“i’m fine, love, especially since my biggest fan is here” you grin, “you should see the other guy” you laugh as jessie slaps your shoulder lightly, “cheeky” she chuckles, pulling you into another tight hug in absolute relief you were okay.

you could tell she was on edge because of the circumstances, the hug telling you everything you needed to know. you hugged her tightly, letting her find solace in you and honestly calming you both down.

you wave over at her teammates when she pulls away and chat with them excitedly. you held onto jessie’s hand the entire time you all chatted, thanking them for coming and watching.

“what does that say on your stick?” niamh questions, you smile, moving your hand to show that you’d written jessie’s name with a little heart next to it on your tape, a tradition for you ever since you’d started dating.

“good luck charm” you grin, both of you getting teased for your bright pink cheeks. you say goodbye to them before they leave, turning back to jessie with a sweet smile. this is the side of you she knew the best. an absolute softie.

before you get changed, you draw jessie into another kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her when she whined against your mouth.

you give her an amused expression, seeming as though she was a little riled up about the whole situation. “shut up” she groans, pushing you away by your chest slightly but you came right back, pressing a sweet peck to her lips,

“i didn’t say anything” you mumble against her, squeezing her hips gently before you ran to the change room, wanting to get back home as quick as possible.

let’s just say violence is never the answer but is excusable only for the way your girlfriend reacted to you when you both stepped through the door of your shared apartment.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: you wouldn’t know she beat someone up 10 minutes before this but here we are

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yourname: so worth it

↳ _jessflem: really was actually

niamhcharles17: your girlfriend’s got a crazy fist on her but is SUCH a softie

↳ yourname: watch it niamhy

↳ _jessflem: biggest softie ever

↳ yourname: you’re supposed to defend me

↳ _jessflem: i love you?

↳ yourname: yeah. whatever. i love you too.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

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softtdaisy · 1 year

Note

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love.

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky.

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend.

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.”

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone.

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling.

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you.

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing.

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that.

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly.

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!”

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris story #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris angst #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #f1 story #f1 imagine #f1 #my writing

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phoenixyfriend · 8 months

Text

That one post about great domestic policy and HORRIFIC foreign policy just does not stop being true

Domestic Policy Win: The American Museum of Natural History in NYC is closing down two entire exhibits of Native American belongings in order to comply with a federal order that requires museums to obtain the consent of indigenous nations in order to display artifacts of native origin. The linked ProPublica article specifies that the exhibits in question are the Eastern Woodlands and Great Plains Halls. To quote:

The new federal regulations, which went into effect this month, prohibit the display of items subject to NAGPRA without tribal consent and ban all research done without tribal consent. In addition, the regulations closed a loophole that had allowed museums such as the American Museum of Natural History to keep ancestral remains and burial items by claiming that they are “culturally unidentifiable” — meaning in their view they could not be connected to present-day Indigenous communities based on available evidence — and therefore could not readily be returned to tribes.

Foreign Policy Fail: The United States, the UK, and several other nations, in response to claims that several members of UNRWA were involved in the Oct. 7th attacks, have cut funding to the relief agency in question. The Al Jazeera article profiles the Palestinian response, and also specifies that this funding was pulled after the UNRWA launched an investigation in response to Israel's allegations that 12 members of the relief agency were involved.

Australia, Canada, Italy and the United States said they would halt funding to the agency, while European Union foreign policy chief Josep Borrell said the 27-member bloc would “assess further steps and draw lessons based on the result of the full and comprehensive investigation”. Germany, Finland, the Netherlands and the United Kingdom then also joined the list of countries pausing financial aid to the UN agency, whose facilities where displaced Palestinians sought shelter have been repeatedly attacked in Israeli air raids. Ireland and Norway, however, expressed continued support for UNRWA, saying the agency does crucial work to help Palestinians displaced and in desperate need of assistance in Gaza. - Al Jazeera

"One million displaced people are currently taking refuge in and around UNRWA buildings. They are the ones who will suffer as a result of this decision," said Mr Gunness, adding: "The curtailing of UNRWA services will also destabilise the region at a time when Western governments are trying to contain a regional conflagration." [...] The US, Germany and the EU are among some of UNRWA's biggest donors. - BBC

Unfortunately, the WSJ article is paywalled, so I can't access the full thing for a quote.

Anyway. Call your reps. I'm not even talking to just the Americans this time, call your fucking reps. If they aren't donating to UNRWA, then make them do something. Is the organization possibly a security risk, and the concerns legitimate? Maybe! But you cannot cut the funding that is keeping 2.3mill people alive on an already shoestring budget and not immediately put a backup security net in place.

Until then, pick a charity with a good rating, donate and signal boost it, and politely harass your politicians.

Politely as in "don't shout at or cuss out the staffers that man the phone lines," because they are not your reps, but also because your number is going to get blocked and then you won't be able to pressure them in the future. Do be firm, though.

I'm personally picking the PCRF this time, since one of the three remaining hospitals in south Gaza has been evacuated and shut down, and the evacuees reportedly include women who just got C-sections, which means the evacuees also include newborns, and medical care is in high demand. They're also currently focused on providing clean drinking water to the people of Palestine. That said, so is food, and shelter, and winter clothing. Pick a need, find a charity, and toss them some money.

#yes this was mostly my way of guiding people to charity sites again. and pushing you to push your reps #current events #united states #indigenous peoples #palestine #israel #gaza #death tw

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flemingsgirl · 2 days

Text

Enough pt. 3

Masterlist

For the opening ceremony you dress in the uniform you got before you left for Paris, personally you thought you were going back to school, but you kinda liked it, causal yet significant and holds bites of your nationality. With America being second last to be presented you had a long night however your time was spent valuable as you messaged back and forth with Jessie.

As the cameras were pointed on the American boat, you packed your phone into your bag, giving your attention to the crowd around you and the people in front of the television. Smiling, you wave to the viewer as you pass them, having an arm around your best friend and jumping up in your spot. Your phone was long forgotten, so when you hit the mattress as you were ready for the night, you had a glance at the device, flooded with several notifications from your family as well as from Jessie.

Tonight, I’m an American myself. GO USA! (and Canada ofc)

Oh, wow, they mixed up the names of north and south Korea…

Damn I see red, how could they. Relieved I’m not there it’s like much and roaring. Nvm go CANADA! #1

OMG!! Look who I spotted!!

Wow she’s kinda pretty, who’s that? Can you get me her number?

Don’t mind the Canadian athlete in the background with his outstanding tracksuit XD

Seems like you’re busy... :/ have fun and be careful. Let me now when you’re back so I know you’re safe! Good night beauty.

Here to say I’m back safe, already in my bed and ready to sleep. Nighty night.

Just moments later your phone rings and you’re quick to accept and stumble into the bathroom, not wanting to wake Avery. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” her voice raspy.

“Why’d you called?”

You could hear some rattling in the background, indicating that Jessie’s fidgeting with something. “Just checking in.”

“It’s late. I thought you were already asleep.”

“I know, but I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I can sleep better or so I could even sleep at all.”

“Oh Jess. What’s wrong?”

The Canadian gulps. “I have troubles sleeping these past days. With all that happened. I can’t have a proper meal cause I don’t have that much appetite and I miss you like crazy and… and…” she rambles on.

“And what? Trust me, I’m on your side.”

“It’s way too soon.”

“About what? Jess, bebe talk to me.”

She stays silent a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Jessie tucks on her earlobe. “Like a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.” You lick your lips, rubbing your forehead. “Look, Jessie. I don’t mean it in any bad way or so. With those new standings maybe, we should wait until all the stressful and anxious days are over to take the next step.” You let Jessie assimilate the information. “Those games aren’t how you imagined them and it’s a hard pill to swallow. But I’m with you. You are enough just like you are, Jessie, don’t forget. You’re perfect in any way. If it gets too much call me, I’ll always be here. Okay?

“Yes,” she mumbles into the phone.

“I’ve got an offer.” You don’t hear any answer. “Jess?” a soft sob is audible. “Hey, hey, Jessie, it’s alright. I got you. Do you listen to me?” the line stays silent. “Jessie?” worry grows in the pit of your stomach. “Hey, hey, Fleming, you’re not ignoring me, you understand?” you chew on your bottom lip. “I suppose you lay in your bed… it’s okay if you fall asleep, yeah. I’ll take that credit. Close your eyes for me, would you?” you give her a second to adjust her position. Soft sobs still lingering in the air as she shuffles under her blanket. “I’ll lead you through the opening try to put your phone behind you at best next to your ear.” A moment passes. “Okay. So, before we were let onto the boat, we had a really dope kinda party in our village. Oh, your little shy self would’ve wanted to burry yourself in the ground. It was even too much for me,” you let out a laugh and one side of Jessie’s mouth turns up, her sobs dying. “It was so loud and there were so many people I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was there for like half an hour and it was scheduled for two hours,” your voice a soft whisper. “Fast forward to our boat tour it was so humid. I send you a pic from before, right? Five minutes later I put them into a ponytail cause they were clutched on my skin. I think we were like three hours on this boat and I’m glad we could message this time otherwise I would’ve died of boredom. I small talked with Simone Biles, LeBron James just to name some. yeah, it was great but a special someone has been missed.” Jessie doesn’t respond, the only sound audible are steady breaths. You wander back into your room and cover yourself with the blanket. “If it’s not clear. I’d like you to be here by my side. To see you and to hold you. I can’t wait to see you again Jessie. Good night until tomorrow.”

Three days later your first game in the tournament was scheduled. Your opponent was the Chinese team, a favoured aspirant for a medal. The start was rough the Chinese women pressured and lead the play. Roundabout an hour into the game your team was down two sets, only one set for the Chinese squad to win. In a matter of time the tables have turned, and the teams were tied, leading to a last set which decides the winner. At the score of 8:10 for the Chinese your coach had to switch you out. Five points before your opponent at the net crossed the foul line so that you landed on her feet and your knee twisted, a pain shot through your leg, but you kept playing. You communicated with your coach, and he took a time out for your team to discuss the matter and how you’ll switch on the field. Your heart scattered as you limp to the sideline where your roommate and best friend stepped up next to the referee and took your place. She gave you a quick hug and reassured you, drying a tear that left your eye. On your way to the bench, you exchange high-fives with the team officials. Taking a seat the physio makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you. By the time you shield your face with your hands and every now and then you dry some tears with the hem of your shirt. In the end your team is defeated which is another heartbreak for you and another wave of tears escape you. Teammates huddle around you and embrace your shaking body. Shortly after you find yourself in the changing room getting ready to shower and put on your comfy clothes for the night.

“What did they say about your knee?”

“It shouldn’t be something serious, but they want to give me a break the next game and maybe the one after.”

“That’s promising.”

“Kinda. Hopefully it works out. If not, they want me to get examined.”

“Reasonable.” You just nod too exhausted and gloomy, only wanting to be in your bed and talk with a special Canadian.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you? You played so well.” You burry your face into the cushion, hiding the blush that grows. “Hey, hey, no hiding here, show me your pretty face.” Her chuckles fill the air, and your heart skips a beat. The past days Jessie’s quite outgoing, charming and offensive.

“Thank you I tried my best, but it didn’t work for us. I’m okay, I think.”

“It’s the thought that counts. Next time will be better. Oh Y/N.” Jessie’s eyes dart over your face. “Tell me.”

“Yeah hopefully.” you stop, a shaky breath escapes your lips, “I... it’s…”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my knee.” You let out a sob. “It just happened and it.”

“But you played on. Were you already in pain?

“Not much, it was kinda unstable and stiff. I don’t know what you’ve seen.”

“At some point you were on the ground and then you stood up and played on. After a few points your trainer took the timeout.”

“For tactics. He sorted the team with the substitution he was going to make. The other player crossed the line and I landed on her foot and mine gave in twisting, and I fell, that was embarrassing.”

“Nothing about it is embarrassing. It’s not your fault and things like that can happen to anyone… I mean the falling, not the injury. How many times am I thrown to the floor or challenged?”

“But it’s part of your game.”

“Are you trying to make my argument unreasonable?” she lowers her eyebrows. “I dare you.”

“What if I do? Try me,” you giggle afterwards as she gives you an evil eye.

“You wouldn’t want that,” she winks at you while she licks her lips, a smug placing itself on them afterward. The heat creeps into her cheeks but Jessie ignores it, holding the stare at you.

You are the first to break the eye contact covering your face with your hands. A grunt finds its way out of your mouth, and you claps your pillow over your head. “Hey, hey, hey shooow youuurself,” the Canadian drags out and you can hear how she pokes her screen.

“Stop it,” you groan and roll your eyes when your face comes to display again as you set the pillow down.

She beams at you, eyes closed, and her nose scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“You being cheesy. A whole new side of you.”

“Oh, stop complaining. I know you like it.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’re still talking to me.”

“I really like this new confident, keep it Fleming.”

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skyeet-the-writer · 9 months

Text

The One With the Bagel

uhhh this is super overdue but here it is for the new year!! i hope you guys like it!! also hope you guys have had a happy and safe holiday season! x. chandler bing x female!reader summary: after making plans, chandler bing shows the cool, alternative girl from canada around the city word count: ~2.9k warnings: none <previous next>

Chandler made good on his promise to show you around. Of course he did, how could he not? You gave him your number. Chandler may be stupid, but if he turned down the opportunity to hang out with you, he’d have Joey check him into a mental institution.

He didn’t call you right away, he figured it would be best to wait a few days. He wanted to wait at least three days, but he caved at two and a half and left you a voicemail on his lunch break.

He had rehearsed it many times and written it down several times. He wanted to get the words just right.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry to bother you, but if you still want to, I’m still open to showing you around the city. Or, well, parts. Um, yeah. I’m free this weekend, we can get coffee too or something if you want. But just let me know. Bye.”

When he hung up, he felt like the air had been pulled directly from his lungs and he immediately wanted to shoot himself. Why did he stutter so much? He knew why, but why? Why did he say ‘but’ so many times?

He did his best not to think about it for the rest of the day.

When he got home from work, exhausted as all hell, he had managed to forget about the whole phone call for at least an hour. But the moment he walked through the door, Joey called his name with a smirk and a strange look in his eyes.

“What’s with you?” Chandler asked, loosening his tie and finally being able to breathe again.

Instead of answering right away, his friend pointed to the phone and said, “She left you a message, man!”

His stomach dropped to his toes and he felt dread creep up his fingertips. Oh, God, what if you didn’t want him to show you around anymore? What if his quick reply freaked you out? God, if you never wanted to see him ever again Chandler couldn’t live with himself.

But still, he made himself walk towards the answering machine. It was blinking, so it was clear Joey hadn’t read it, but Chandler wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He looked up at his friend, who seemed excited, the opposite of how he felt.

Swallowing, he pressed play and your perfect voice sounded through the apartment.

“Hey, Chandler! Great to hear from you, I was wondering if you’d call.”

He blinked at the phone. Were you waiting for him to call?

“Sorry about not answering, I was at work and then the bartender was sick and I had to do it. Real cool to make the new girl bartend by herself after she finished her training.” You laugh and Chandler feels the corners of his lips quirk up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. But, uh, yeah, I’d totally be down for Sunday. And coffee sounds great. Just call me back when you can and we can figure out the details or whatever. Bye, Chan.”

The machine clicked, signaling you had hung up, and Chandler stared at the white box with a smile on his face and a warm, somewhat foreign feeling in his heart.

Joey shook his shoulders, a grin plastered across his cheeks. "You got it, man, you're in!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said, shrugging Joey off of him. "So, like, should I call her back now or wait?"

Glancing at the time the message from you was received, Joey answered, "I mean, she called a couple of hours ago. Do it now, man, she's probably off of work."

He nodded, feeling his heart rate pick up again. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

But instead of grabbing the phone, he just stared at it. He stared at it for so long that Joey had to touch his arm to get him to look at him.

"You want to order a pizza first?"

Chandler nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

And so, forty-five minutes and two-thirds of a pizza later, Chandler mustered up the courage to call you.

It only takes two rings for you to pick up.

"Hello?" Chandler has been waiting to hear your voice again for days and nothing can describe the pure amount of euphoria that rushes through his veins at your tone.

He keeps calm, however, and says, "Hey, y/n, it's Chandler."

Your tone lightens and he can practically hear the smile in your voice. "Oh, hey, Chan!"

A smile paints itself across his cheeks and heat rises up his neck and he tries to ignore Joey's excited looks. "Hey."

"You got my message, right?" For a moment, he hears some noises from your side of the call, almost like you're closing a plastic container, and he hopes he didn't catch you in the middle of eating. "I'm free on Sunday, is that cool?"

"Yeah, that works." He suggests meeting up at nine and when you laugh a little, his grin widens at your nervousness. "What is it?"

You laugh again and elaborate. "Okay, so, actually, I work the night before and we don't close until, like, one. So maybe ten? Instead?"

Chandler would hang out with you at three in the morning if you asked him to. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Awesome. So, around ten at Central Perk? Since it's really the only place I know in the city?"

A teasing smile pulls at his lips as he waves his roommate away before he embarrasses himself. "For now."

"For now?"

"Yeah. I'll show you around to all the good places."

"Even the Empire State Building?" Your voice is teasing and it makes his organs do gymnastics.

He chuckles and nods even if you can't see it. "Even the Empire State Building."

"Sick! See you then, Chan."

"See you then, y/n." He needs to come up with a nickname for you.

"Bye."

And then you hang up and Chandler places the phone back down. There's a beat where he makes eye contact with Joey before they both erupt into celebratory cheers and jump up and down together like they always do.

"Go Chandler!"

"Go me!"

~*~

Sunday comes both sooner and later than you expected. It's sooner because you worked a double the day before but it's also later because you've been looking forward to it ever since the two of you scheduled it.

But, eventually, ten o'clock rolls around and you're sitting at a table in Central Perk patiently waiting. You haven't been here for long, but since you always get nervous meeting up with new people, you grabbed a newspaper and started to do the crossword to calm your nerves.

You like Chandler, a lot. He's very sweet, funny, and he's pretty cute, too. You share a lot of similar interests, but since you've only had one encounter and a couple of phone calls, you still get anxious.

You're sure it will go away when you both make conversation.

Chewing on the end of the pencil, you rack your mind for the solution to this one question, but you can't quite remember the name, though it's on the tip of your tongue.

The bell above the door rings and you look up, smiling when you see Chandler. You wave him over and he quickly spots you, casually walking over.

"You do the crossword, too?" he asks with a small smile.

You nod. "Sometimes, yeah. Hey, I need your help with one. What's a prehistoric beast with a large bony frill?"

He tilts his head and asks, "How many letters is it?"

Glancing down at the paper, you count the little squares and answer, "Eleven."

He mouths some letters, and counts with his fingers, before saying, "Triceratops."

"That's what it is!" You quickly scribble it down in messy handwriting. "I knew that, I just forgot the word for it."

"Yeah, sure." He gives you a teasing smirk as you stand up, stashing the newspaper into your bag.

You raise a brow at him. "Wow, rude, Chan."

"I'm messing."

"I know." You smile at him. "So. You promised to show me where the good coffee is?"

He nods and moves towards the door, holding it open for you to go out of. "I did. You like bagels?"

"Of course I do, I'm not a monster."

Your humor always gets to him and he jerks his head down the street. "Come on. I'll show you a great place."

"Lead the way."

~*~

An hour later, you stand beside Chandler with a bagel in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Okay,” you say, walking past a couple holding hands. “It might have been a long wait, but you say it’s worth it?”

Chandler nods and smiles. “I promise you, it is.”

He leads you to a little bench by a flower shop and you take a seat laying the bagel across your lap.

“Coffee first,” he says to you.

“But you said the bagel is the best part.”

“Best for last?”

“I always do best for first.”

“Okay, well, drawing out the tension makes things better.”

You roll your eyes and hold out your coffee cup. “Clink me, Bing.”

A smile creeps onto his face and he can't help but say, "Is that a euphemism?"

Mirroring his teasing smile, you reply, "You wish."

He does.

But he doesn't say that and instead taps his disposable coffee cup against yours and takes a sip at the same time as you do.

Taking a sip, you immediately flinch back at the searing burning sensation on your tongue. Chandler does the same thing and you both laugh.

"He did warn it was hot," you mutter, referencing the kind older man who cashed you out while you run your front teeth over your tongue.

Chandler smiles. "Yeah, he did."

After blowing on the liquid for another moment, you both clink your cups again and you take a sip. Chandler recommended the latte and you trusted his opinion. Sure enough, as soon as the slightly-cooled down liquid touches your tongue, you're glad you trusted him.

"Woah," you say, looking at Chandler.

He's smiling. "Right?"

You smile back, taking another sip of the delicious beverage. "This is so good."

"I told you it would be good."

"It's not just good, it's great."

"Exactly. None of my other friends think it's very good."

You frown just a little. "Really? I mean, Central Perk is good and all, but this is amazing."

He just shrugs. "It's okay. I have you to go with me now."

You smile at him and a strange and warm feeling flutters in your chest.

But before you can even think about it, Chandler is putting the coffee down beside him on the bench and picking up his bagel. "Okay. Try the bagel now."

Nodding, you place the coffee down and carefully unwrap a small section of the bagel that you can eat. You had gotten a bagel called an 'All-Nighter', which had two eggs, bacon, cheese, and some kind of chipotle aioli on a cheesy bagel. It sounded like actual heaven considering you hadn't eaten all day and your mouth waters as the delectable scent wafts up to your nose.

Once again, you and Chandler clink your own bagels--he got one called the 'Santa Fe' with egg whites, sausage, and salsa on a plain bagel--and take a bite at the same time.

You're not one to groan at food, but this sandwich is so good you almost do. It's messy and you're glad for the double layer of paper around it. It's cheesy, it's warm, and it's a little spicy. It's everything you've been craving.

"Holy shit," you say, mouth still a little full. "This is so good, Chandler."

He just nods, already taking another bite.

Licking a stray piece of sauce from your lips, you hardly swallow before you go in for another bite. Together, you and Chandler eat in silence, too busy consuming your own individual meals like it's the last meal. Honestly, you would want this bagel to be your last meal.

You finish first, licking your greasy fingers before using a napkin to wipe them. Carefully, you shove all your trash into the bag and take a couple more sips of your latte before it gets cold.

Chandler is soon finished and while he's wiping his hands, you say, "That was the best sandwich I've ever had in my life, Chan."

"I told you it would be life-changing."

"I'm so sorry for doubting you," you tease, smiling and stretching your legs out in front of you and taking in the scene. It's almost noon on a Sunday in Manhattan and the streets are, unsurprisingly, crawling with people, but everyone seems a lot more relaxed and chill on Sunday rather than a busy Friday morning when you're running late for work.

You and Chandler lapse into a pleasant silence where you both just people-watch for a few minutes while your meals digest. You watch the people go by and wonder what they're doing today and what plans they have. You wonder if they've ever had a life-changing bagel as well, you wonder how many of them are new to the city like you and how many know it well like Chandler.

He speaks up. “What do you want to go see first?”

Looking at him, you know the first thing you want to do. “Empire State Building.”

He smiles and stands, offering you a hand. “Come on, then.”

Taking it, you let him haul you up before dropping his hand almost immediately. For a second, disappointment fills his chest before he pushes it away. Together, he leads you to the Empire State Building, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

~*~

By the time it was getting dark, you had both wandered halfway around Manhatten. You had seen the Empire State Building, walked by the National Museum—where his friend Ross worked, which you thought was interesting—you had walked around Times Square, and by the Rockefeller Center.

“Is it true that at Christmas they have a huge tree?” you ask as Chandler walks beside you.

He nods, smiling. “It is. And they have an ice rink.”

This makes you stop in your tracks and you turn to him. He blinks and stands next to you, completely aware that there’s a giant smile on your face.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

Chandler nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m serious. What, do you like skating?”

“Uh, yeah.” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Chandler, I love skating. You know I did hockey for, like, years right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

You widen your eyes at him. “Oh. Well, I did.”

“I didn’t know you liked hockey.”

“I’m from Canada,” you say, starting to walk once more. “It’s a requirement. I got my first stick on my fifth birthday.”

“That’s so cool,” your friend says. “I love hockey.”

“What’re the teams in the city? I know there’s the Rangers, I just can’t remember the other one.”

“The Islanders,” he tells you. “But the Rangers are better. Joey and I go to the games a lot, but if I have an extra ticket, you can come too.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, this cute little half-smile that makes his chest squeeze.

But he doesn’t think about it and smiles back, nods, and listens as you explain how you were the best defender on your team in primary school.

Eventually, you make it back to your apartment. Hell’s Kitchen isn’t as sketchy as it used to be and Chandler walks you up to your apartment building. It’s well past sunset, but the streetlights are bright enough.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing behind you to the building. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“It was no problem,” Chandler says, completely aware that you both walked right past his own apartment building twenty minutes ago. “I’m not far from here. Besides, I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get mugged.”

“Considering I have three dollars in my wallet, I don’t think that’s a problem.”

Chandler laughs and you laugh too and you realize how much you love his company. He’s funny and he gets you. He’s fun to be around and he’s nice, something a little uncommon here in the city.

“We should do this again,” you hear yourself say. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he replies. “Call me?”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It slips out and his eyes widen the words leave his lips but you just laugh gently and nod.

“I will.” Taking his hand, you shake it twice. Your rings are cold against his hand but he’s quickly distracted away from that when you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You have to lean on your tiptoes to do it and you’re already pulled away when he realizes what you’ve done.

Releasing his hand, you watch his neck heat up and panic rises up in you for fear you’ve gone too far. But then a small smile crosses his face and the knot in your stomach loosens.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you say, “Goodnight, Chandler. Get home safe.”

“You too,” he blurts out before cursing. But you just laugh that sweet laugh of yours and buzz yourself in, propping the door with your foot.

“Don’t get mugged on the way home, Chan.” And with another wave, you walk inside and let the door close behind you.

And Chandler is left standing alone in the streets of New York with a cheesy smile on his face. He scratches his chin but the grin doesn’t leave his face the entire time he meanders his way back to his apartment.

And his smile only grows wider when Joey mentions the lipstick stain on his cheek.

#x reader #chandler bing #chandler bing x reader #canadian reader #ross geller #rachel green #joey tribbiani #monica geller #phoebe buffay #don't be fooled #this is a slow burn

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daydreamingmia · 5 months

Text

Walker Scobell X Reader | Series | You Belong With Me🔱 Part 19

TO CANADA! PART 2💙🛫

It was about 20 minutes after you woke up and everyone was very sleepy "Hey you guys hungry?" Dior asks "YES!" Everyone yells suddenly waking up "In n out sound good?" She asked

"YES!" Everyone yelled again

You put a hood on hoping nobody would recognize you "You wanna share the extra large milkshake?" Walker whispered in your ear "No! Get your own milkshake!" You whisper yelled "Fine" He said and rolled his eyes. Dior and Charlie just finished ordering and it was now your turn. "Can I get a y/o, a fry and a chocolate milkshake?" You ask "Of course anything else?" The nice lady asked "Yeah can I get a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake? You don't have anything blue right?" Walker stepped up from behind you "No. I'm sorry. Anything else?" She asked "No. Thank you." He replied Thr lady went and got the milkshake and gave it to you You waited for your food and sat down. "Can I have a sip of your milkshake y/n?" Dior asked "Yeah! Have as much as you want!" You say handing ut to her. You look at Walker and he looks shocked (with his hand on his chest and everything) "What?" You asked annoyed "Why when I asked is you wanted to share you said get your own but when Dior asks you say have as much as you want?!" He questioned "Because I like Dior" You say like it obvious "And you don't like me?" You pouted "No" You reply plainly "Order number 83 is ready!" You heard someone announce Everyone gets up and goes to get the food "Thank you!" You said with a smile taking the bags and putting them on the seat. You turn to grab your purse When you turn back around you see Walker eating your fries "Hey! Those are mine!" You say as you try to take it from him. He turns and holds the fry in the air so you can't reach it. "You're so annoying!" You yell at him "Too bad you're short" He laughs "Too bad I'm not" Charlie says and takes the fry and eats it "Thank you Charlie" You smile "But he just ate it! It's the same if I did!" He argues "But I hate you" You joke "Just for that…I'm gonna take another fry" He says reaching in your bag as you glare at him. You pull your phone out of your pocket to document his thievery.

You got to the airport and everyone got out. "I'm so full." Walker whines "Because you ate all my food!" You yell at him "Don't be dramatic I took barely any" He replied And you give him a look

"Okay… maybe that's why I'm full" He says

We went through security when Aryan grabbed his phone and saw the time "OMG! IT'S ALMOST 8 O'CLOCK!" Aryan yells We all look at eachother and start running Walker and Aryan in the front and Charlie and Dior a few feet in front of you. You were in the back because…WELL IT WAS 8 AM AND YOU WERE TO TIRED TO RUN FAST! Walker looks back at you "Come on!" He yelled and ran towards you He grabbed your hand and started running full blast. "WALKER!" You scream "We are not missing plane because of you!" He yells You look around and see people staring some taking pictures of you "WALKER MY LEGS CANT MOVE THAT FAST!" You yell at him "Fine" He stops picks you up and starts to run again Well let's just say only a few people were taking pictures before and now A TON were. You caught up with the rest

"Ummm…Walker should I ask why you're carrying-…never mind" Ayan says

You made it! Dior looks at her phone "we made it with 2 minutes to spare!" She says gasping for air "Thanks to me" Walker says put of breath putting you down "Hey!! I'm not that slow!!" You say He just gives you a look…yeah you were "IN MY DEFENSE ITS 8 AM! IM NOT EVEN AT THIS TIME NORMALLY!" You point out "You die when you sleep?! That makes sense why you sleep like the dead!!" Walker says You just glare at him "You know I love you" He says sweetly and kisses you

"I love you too" You blush

Everyone were flying first class You get on the plane and Walker sits down "I wanted the window seat!" You pout He rolls his eyes and stands up and moves to the middles seat as Aryan sits next to him. "Thank you!" You smile Walker knew airplanes scared you a little bit so he held your hand. You smile and lay your head in his lap. He stroked your hair out of your face and admired your beauty. You fell asleep almost immediately after the plane took off which was good for your it had been about 20 minutes. "Can I get a blanket?" You heard Walker whisper "Of course!" A woman replied

A few minutes later you felt Walker put a blanket on you. Then he kissed the top of your head. He was so sweet.

After a few hours you woke up. You picked you head up off of Walker's shoulder "Shhh. Go back to sleep." He said quietly while gently pushing your head back down. "But I'm awake" You said groggy as you sat back up. "What time is it?" You said looking around trying to open your eyes "I think it's around 4" Walker replied You looked over at Aryan and he was intensly watching a movie. You looked over and it was Mission Impossible. "Good choice" you said to yourself. You look behind you to see Dior was asleep and Charlie was on his phone. "This girl in this movie is so pretty" Walker said to you looking at his screen You look over and see he was watching Thor. The girl was you. You blush. "Wow! She's stunning!" You say jokingly

You pull out your phone and start playing games you downloaded earlier. They were a little hard to play though because Walker was holding your hand the whole time.

It was an hour later and they were giving people their dinners. They handed it to you and it looked delicious. You ordered spaghetti (which came with some bread) and Strawberry lemonade Walker ordered some tacos and sprite "Can I have some?" You ask with puppy eyes "Only if I can have some spaghetti" He replys "Fine. One bite." You say "Same for you" He replies "Fine! But it'll cost kiss" you say as Walker kisses you

"You guys are weird" Aryan rolls his eyes

After dinner you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. When you came back out most of the other people were asleep. "Took ya long enough" Walker said "You could've went to sleep without me" You replied "Could I have?" Walker said and you thought it was so sweet until he continued "You would've woken me up to get past me" He said sarcastically You sat down and laid against him again. He put his arm around you and you could heart his heart beat. He kissed the top of your head as you nestled into him. He was so warm and cuddleable (I don't care if it's not a word that's what Walker is 😊)

A/n: Hiii everyone!! I know it doesn't take as long as am saying to fly to Canada. I'm sorry just pretend. XOXO LOVE YOU ALL 💕

💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

Tags: @noajakah236482@the-tortured-poets-depxrtment@yeeteddemigod@walker-scobell-obsessed@callsignwidow@froggyflower264

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boywithlcv · 1 year

Text

Champagne Problems | JSUH.

Summary: Johnny suh knew one thing. Y/N knew nothing.

tags: established relationship, Angst, gn!reader, barista!johnny, film major!reader, sad sad Johnny.

Wc:

A/n: part one! Also the first part of my BLONDIE series! Based off of Taylor songs sing she’s coming to Canada <3.

‘You booked the night train for a reason.

So you could sit there in this hurt’

✩

December 28th.

Four hours after the final goodbye.

the weather was anything but nice. the type of chill that nipped at peoples skin as it devilishly danced through the air. The tall man didn't mind it though, he'd felt worse than some pinches from jack frost. The bustling sound of trains coming in and out of the station along with the crowd of passengers that left the vehicles carts. everyone going from one place to the next.

Though johnny, didn't quite know where he was going.

He knew he was going far, far away to hide away from whatever vendetta the world had against him. He felt as though he must of broken glass, the superstition his mother would warn him about when he was younger. though he's sure it was just because she didn't want to clean up any glass that johnny would've easily broken. though the superstition followed him to adulthood as he found himself a very superstitious person. come to think of it... he did break a glass bowl a couple months before, if that made any difference to his feelings about this situation.

Yes, the situation johnny suh found himself in.

the situation he thought he would never find himself in. because he was so sure, god why was he so sure?.

But it lead him to, standing alone. at an ungodly hour of the night, just so people wouldn't see the tears that fell down his cheeks. late night train full of people too tired or in too much of a rush to notice the tall man weeping away his sorrows over his lost lover. it also gave him time to sit and think, overthink or under think. it didn't matter. as long as he could sit in his hurt as dusk turned into dawn.

the hurt that was caused by his once muse, yn.

He wishes he could take everything back, maybe he wouldn't have been so stupid. A young barista falls in love with the film major. maybe it was a set up from the beginning, since the minute yn stumbled into his coffee shop looking as if they didn't know what sleep was. but yet johnny thought they looked beautiful.

He wishes he could take back when he made the first move. everyday yn would order the same thing, a basic black coffee. something johnny would always poke fun at. a drink he thought was reserved for older men and the occasional caffeine addicted mother. and every-time johnny would make it as a chuckle left his lips. until the seventh time they ordered, after a month of watching them for hours in his shop. he wrote his number on their napkin along with a J.

He wishes he could take back the way he smiled at his phone for the next week and a half like an idiot, every text he re-read a million times and could probably resite by memory.

He wishes he could take back the first date. which led to the second. the fourth. the eighth. the final.

he wishes he could take back letting them meet his family, letting them move in with him, letting them befriend his friends.

he wishes he could take back the last 47 hours.

johnny suh wishes he could take back loving yn.

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typingwithmyhandstied · 5 months

Note

all of the asks. (ask game)

(you don’t actually have to i partially just thought it would be funny to say this i can pick specific ones if you want but also please do if you want to)

This is hilarious. I will do all of them because why not.

favorite chore: organizing things mostly but sometimes even that sucks, sweeping, or not really a chore--- peeling potatoes

least favorite chore: cleaning anything that's sticky/slimy/etc

aquarium, planetarium, museum, or zoo: it really depends on the kind. The aquarium in my town has a really big otter enclosure, so I love that. I really really like planetariums and museums but don't go enough.

favorite kind of museum: The ones that are pretty much people's houses turned into museums especially big old fancy houses with old artifacts. I do love a good art museum of course too.

cooking or baking (and your favorite thing to cook or bake): baking and apple crisp. It has peeling, cutting, etc.

favorite thing in your room: My bookshelf or all of the quotes stuck up on my wall.

favorite class you’ve ever taken: I haven't gotten much variety yet. I really like choir, Spanish, and English though.

what kinds of clothes do you typically wear?: tshirts, jeans, overalls, sweaters, really anything but if you see it it makes sense.

favorite way to be creative (can be anything: playlists, outfits, drawing, writing, decorating cookies, anything.): WRITING but I actually kind of have done a lot. I paint some. I make cool outfits. I actually painted a bunch of jean jackets last summer while listening to the FLF audiobook. I might do that again.

are you superstitious?: Yes and no. I am in the ways that I think are funny like sayings and jokes and having a "lucky necklace." I used to be more so.

favorite article of clothing you own: It's either this gray sweater I found thrifting, my Evermore sweatshirt, or my best jean jacket.

favorite way to carry things (pockets, purse, backpack, etc): I apologize in advance for the rant this will cause. I want to say pockets, but I can not because WOMEN'S PANTS POCKETS FIT NOTHING. I also have to carry an Epipen which can't even fit in men's pants pockets so a purse. I like satchel like purses that can fit a book.

what things do you usually have on you when you leave the house?: As stated before my Epipen, my phone which has my wallet stuff in it, a purse, a book, headphones, chapstick, some cash, etc.

favorite errand: grocery shopping or essential other things

dream job: a librarian who writes books in her spare time (with a dog and a cat <3)

favorite thing get when going out to eat: a burger or spaghetti usually

when did you lose your first tooth?: first tooth lost was pulled by the dentist, and I didn't know what was going on. It was HORRIBLE. I have gotten many pulled actually. First "naturally" lost was because my friend's friend hit my chin with her knee while we lifted her in the air at recess. I lost it in Spanish class a few days later.

any childhood memory you want to share:

do you like camping?: Yes, but mostly because I was taken a lot as a kid.

have you ever gone to summer camp and did you enjoy it?: I went to girl scout summer camp but family camp, so my mom was there. It was fine.

favorite place to write things: At a table anywhere without too much distractions

lucky number(s): 4, 7, 13, 14, 16

favorite place you’ve traveled to: Canada probably or just somewhere camping

place you want to travel to: Broadway or London or the Netherlands (to meet an old online friend)

favorite snack: gold fish

favorite smell: lemon verbena

something you’re proud of: all the progress I have made

do you have any pets?: I had a bunny as a little girl. I loved her. I had a dog, but she died two months (ish) ago. I miss her.

do you want any pets that you don’t have?: I want to have a dog again someday. I also will probably have a cat someday. (If I could get an orange cat, I would name it Kell.)

favorite place to go in your neighborhood: THE LIBRARY DUH

#this was so fun #i love talking about myself a little too much #thank you for the ask <3

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runwayrunway · 1 year

Text

No. 43 - Porter Airlines

I consider myself very lucky to live near enough to an airport, located directly beneath one of the main departure paths, that I can regularly see airplanes flying overhead on their way off to wherever. Depending on the plane, they can pass over my house as low as 3,000 feet! ...which is still way too high for my phone's camera! So while I can see the plane decently, even make out details of the livery, what my camera sees is...this.

Okay, so my planespotting hobby mostly consists of literally spotting them (I am very good at this part! It's the photography that I struggle with!) because I'm unable to shell out for a telephoto lens, but thanks to the magic of flight tracking software I'm able to identify the exact airplane that this is, rather than being forced to base my review off this crunchy "photograph".

So, I'd like to introduce you all to our subject for today, C-GLQR! And, by extension, Porter Airlines - requested by @fungaloids, plus an anon.

First flown in February of 2009 and delivered in December of the same year, C-GLQR has served her entire fourteen-year career with Porter Airlines. She's actually only slightly younger than the airline itself. Porter was founded in 2006, featuring executives who formerly served in similarly high positions in Canadian regional airlines Air Ontario and Canada 3000, American Airlines, and...apparently the former US ambassador to Canada for some reason. They're about as large as you can get while still more or less being a regional airline, and they fly a fleet I'd call medium-sized of Embraer E195-E2 jets and an even larger number of Bombardier Dash 8-Q400 turboprop planes, like the pictured C-GLQR, out of their hub in Toronto.

One interesting thing about Porter (inconsistently stylized as lowercase-p porter, but it lacks the clear intent of something like condor so I'm not going as far as to write it that way myself) is said hub. See, when I say Toronto, you probably think of the worst airport in the entire world, Toronto Lester B. Pearson International Airport. Thankfully for Porter's customers they do not have to go to the labyrinth of human misery which is Toronto Pearson, and are instead corralled into Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, colloquially known as Toronto Island Airport, potentially because it's changed its name twice and the local population got sick of remembering what it's calling itself now.

image: DXR

The 'island' designator is quite literal. This is a teeny tiny airport, just barely large enough to land the Q400 and definitely too small to land jets. The fact that Porter flies to Chicago-Midway, Washington-Dulles, and Boston-Logan is a testament to the Q400's absolutely wild range rather than an indication that this tiny scrap of land is in any meaningful way an international airport. It has two runways and both are shorter than the ones at the smallest airport I've ever flown into that had an actual terminal, Vieques. I'm surprised they can operate a Q400 there. In fact, they can't - they had to pick a seat configuration smaller than the standard in order to be able to use the runways at Billy Bishop. (Incidentally, this means their seats have a more generous pitch, so I suppose that's a point for them.)

So why would they want to put the biggest passenger turboprop in service in the West onto this tiny airstrip? Well, Porter's...reason for existing, so it seems, is to force the Toronto Port Authority to expand the airport and build a bridge to the mainland despite the fact that nobody who lives in the area wants this. Hilariously, they have been entirely unsuccessful in this venture and now operate a second hub in Pearson. That's where they put the jets - after all, if you tried to land an E195-E2 at Toronto Island you would have a very wet plane and some very mad passengers on your hands very quickly.

youtube

I mean, to be fair, getting to not go to Pearson is a selling point.

I don't have any other place to put this but they have an adorable raccoon mascot named Mr. Porter. I'm not sure why a raccoon, but I like him. He doesn't appear on the livery at all - heaven forbid we do something interesting - but he's there and he's cute. I do have to point out, though, that this is one of the worst names for SEO I've seen in a while, given Mr. Porter is the name of the men's department of extremely popular luxury fashion outlet shop Net-a-Porter.

I think raccoons could be a pretty nice source of inspiration for a livery, what with their colorblocking and stripes. You could even make the planes' engine cowlings look like weirdly human little hands. I would hate that, but I would respect it! Instead Porter has taken the approach of making the plane mostly white. Revolutionary for sure.

I'll begin with the good and say that I really like this grey underside with its little outlines - I think this is an absolutely brilliant design for the Dash 8. Unlike the ATR series, which I've talked about a fair few times before on this blog, the Q400 is about as angular as a plane can get. I've never touched on that shape before, but I've discussed how carriers, though I'm sure it's by accident and they never consider this, work with the shape of the ATR to good effect. The curvaceousness of the ventral fairing on the ATR is complemented by long swoops like the ones used by Azul, IndiGo, and Air Astra. The Q400, in contrast, stores its landing gear in the engine cowlings, allowing for a very flat belly and uninterrupted fuselage that looks best with sharp long lines and blocky geometric shapes. If this livery had any other details, this would be such a nice touch - they even hammer the point in with the same design on the bottom of the cowlings.

Unfortunately, it's so light-colored that it's difficult to notice. You could mistake it for shadows settling on natural grooves in the airframe if you didn't know what the bottom of a Q400 is supposed to look like, and it isn't as if you can see it when the plane is parked.

You may well not see the wordmark, either. While the sans-serif font chosen is almost gratingly boring it is at least not hideous, but it's located in such an out-of-the-way location it almost feels like they're ashamed of it. It's so needlessly far back and low-sitting that the wing blocks it from half the possible angles, and it's not like it's accentuated in any way. You could so easily miss it. This wordmark is honestly Lufthansa-tier.

Another thing I don't like is the use of the tail. It's blocked out very Detached Tail Syndrome style, refusing to engage with the large block leading from it to the fuselage. I would understand, though not approve, if this was because they didn't want to redesign the balance of the tail when applying the livery to a new style of plane, but the Q400 is what they started with! The livery was designed for this plane and it seems to want you to just not notice this significant chunk of fuselage! It makes the whole airframe look so desolate and empty. The kindest thing I can say for it is that it looks lazy, but really it looks more unfinished. I just struggle to understand why these choices were made, in all honesty. Surely this isn't the best you can do.

Right, right, okay. There's something I've been dancing around on purpose and I think it's obvious what it is. I just wanted to get in an entire review first because there's sort of no going back once I've mentioned it. Everything I said before, while very important, is subordinate to this one...utterly perplexing choice which turns failure to infamy.

PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER

Grade: Z-

#tarmac fashion week #era: 2000s #era: 2010s #era: 2020s #grade: z-#region: north america #region: canada #regional airlines #porter airlines

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fox-buried-in-maple-leaves · 3 months

Text

Detainee

With all these truths in the light, it's up to somebody unexpected to come to the rescue.

taglist: @cerasus--flores, @hamausagi

“Amir? What do you mean my brother has been detained? For how long?!”

Mismatched eyes widened but not of surprise, rather, anger.

“Three months?!”

She got off the bed, holding her phone against her ear with her cheek and her shoulder as she threw open her closet to grab her suitcase. “Get me where he’s being held.” She paused. “I don’t care if it's top secret!” Hemera hissed into the phone, she dropped her suitcase on the floor, now opened.

“Mount Sinai roof? An hour? I’ll be there. Bring me the file.” … “I don’t care if you have to crack it, get me that damn file.” She hung up her phone, tossing it behind her on the bed as she threw random clothing into her bag. She bent down, moving to close the bag, but she paused. She’d need identification.

Passport, social security, her entire wallet, and her law degree, framed from her living room wall. Good enough.

But it wasn’t just that. Hemera bent down, tucking her hair behind her ears as she pulled open a floorboard in her closet. She quickly punched in the numbers into the safe she had hidden, waiting for the beep before she pulled it open.

Expecting it would be a lie. But being ready for anything? Hemera was always ready. She pulled out several files stamped by various organizations. Two of which showed the stamp of her own law firm. She packed those too.

And then she was gone, leaving her cushy Toronto apartment locked and secured as she headed for the hospital.

“This is Poeiva.”

“And we can trust them?”

Cypher nodded at her as she sat down beside them in the jet he’d borrowed from the Protocol.

“What’s happened with Gri- Achlys, isn’t right.” Monarch shook her head, arms crossed over her chest as they leaned back in the seat. Cypher left the two alone, heading to the cockpit to get them in the air before he could engage the autopilot.

Hemera took a notebook out of the front of her bag, clicking her pen.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Hemera buttoned up her blouse, tying her tie carefully as Cypher maneuvered the jet on the landing pad. “They’ll try to get rid of you.” Monarch warned, watching the lawyer tie up her dark brown hair with a plum coloured elastic. Hemera nodded, braiding and tucking the blue strands of her hair into her ponytail.

“I’m used to that.”

“But there are no governments who can help you if anything goes bad.”

The woman scoffed slightly as she pulled the thin black belt through the loops of her skirt. “I’ve been threatened by my own government. Nothing scares me.” She pulled the belt through the golden buckle.

Monarch hid their smile, looking towards the cockpit as Cypher landed the jet. It soon slid open, revealing the man in question. “Are you ready, barrister?” He questioned and she unbuckled herself, standing up, suitcase handle in hand.

“Ready, Amir.”

He hit the button beside the door, allowing for it to open. “We’ll show you where to go, but we have to keep ourselves out of the line of fire.” He advised, rather, warned as Monarch also stood up. Hemera nodded, she understood perfectly the situation she was in.

It didn’t take long before a man found her near the entrance of the base, judging from the briefing Monarch had given her, this had to be their leader, Brimstone.

“How did you get here?”

“Commander Byrne, a pleasure. I’m Barrister Hemera Hajime.”

The man stopped cold in his tracks, steely eyes widening momentarily before they narrowed at the woman standing in front of him.

“Any relation to Doctor Achlys Hajime?”

“I’m his sister. And he’s my client. Bring me to him immediately.”

“I don’t know how you got here, but you have no jurisdiction. You need to return to Canada immediately.”

Hemera shook her head, standing tall despite the attempts of intimidation. “Canada may have no jurisdiction over this little island of yours you’ve found in international waters. But my degree is still very much recognised in all nations of the world, including where we currently are.”

“As such, my client has a right to his lawyer.”

“He’s a prisoner of war, he has no rights.”

The woman scoffed, she let her suitcase fall to the ground and then bent down, unzipping it to pull out several folders. “According to the Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, that would be the third convention.” She stood up, thumbing through some papers. “Article 77 states that all POWs maintain their full civil capacity, as such they maintain a right to counsel.”

Brimstone stammered, surprised by her preparedness. But how did she get so prepared?

“Do not fuck with me, Commander. I am not in the mood, my hair cannot take this humidity, and I’ve been awake for sixteen hours. Show me to my brother’s cell immediately.”

“Who revealed the location of our base to you?”

Hemera waved her hand.

“Irrelevant.”

Brimstone pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a big security risk, but on the other hand, if Hemera could prove Grimshaw’s innocence, he’d be in a much better position. He lowered his hand, looking her up and down as she once more zipped up her suitcase.

“Come with me.”

“Happily.”

He brought her to the room they originally had Grimshaw detained in, a simple interrogation room. “I’ll go get him, stay here.” He instructed and she sat down, sorting her files while he went to fetch Viper and Sage before he could bring her to Grimshaw.

Hemera waited patiently, flipping through the information she had on her, alongside the notes she’d gathered from Monarch. It was pretty damning, she knew that. But she also knew Achlys, and she knew he would never put others in harm’s way this way.

The door opened and Hemera barely had time to react before a woman slammed her hand on the table, green eyes narrowed. “How did you get here?” She demanded to know but Hemera sat back in the chair, a small smile on her face.

“Hello, Doctor Callas.” She looked beyond the angry chemist. “Wei Ling Ying.” She greeted as Sage also entered the room alongside Brimstone. “I assume Brimstone has caught you both up to speed?”

“Answer my question.”

Hemera sighed and stood, so she was eye to eye with Viper. “I won’t be. Attorney-Client privilege. I was hired to represent Doctor Hajime, and I will not be revealing any further information. Especially not to..” She looked the woman up and down. “You.”

“What she says is confirmed by the family personnel files we have, Viper. We cannot force her to tell us anything.”

Viper growled and stood straight, arms crossing over her chest as she stepped away. “So we just give her access to him? What if she helps him escape?”

“I’m a lawyer, Doctor Sabine, I will be doing my due diligence, as I see you haven’t. Given he hasn’t been offered counsel for..” She looked at her folder. “Three months, six days, and eleven hours.”

Sage stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her. “Barrister, may I ask how much you know?”

Hemera turned and partially sat mostly leaned against the edge of the metal table. “I’m a lawyer for Radiants specifically. I’ve heard rumours. Mentions of lookalikes, confusion on similarities. I long ago made the assumption that multiple universes may be possible.”

“And with the possibility of multiple universes, I posit there may be multiversal threats.”

“How do you know so much?”

Hemera merely smiled, but before she could respond.

“So are you aware then that he’s not even your brother?!”

And it was like a switch got flicked, her mismatched eyes narrowed, smile pulled into a scowl. Anger radiated off of the lawyer like an indescribable chill.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?”

“The man we have in the basement isn’t from this world, the brother you’re so desperately trying to exonerate isn’t yours.”

Hemera reached behind her, picking up her notebook, she flipped through it.

“No, who you call Grimshaw is from Omega-Earth. A world on the brink of total collapse. Valorant Legion is the name of your Protocol’s counterpart.” She looked at the three of them from over her notebook.

Viper looked pissed, Brimstone refused to make eye contact but his face was pulled into one of neutrality, Sage looked visibly uncomfortable albeit calm.

“See, the reason I believed those Radiants who told me of the lookalikes is because when my brother came back from Everett-Linde. I knew it wasn’t my Achlys.” Hemera admitted in a quiet tone. “There were things he didn’t know, choices he made. Small things our parents didn’t see, things his friends chalked up to being the only survival story of that damn place.”

She breathed calmly, in, out. “But he is still my brother. And I know the sacrifices he’s made.”

“He’s a traitor through and through.”

“That’s your belief, Callas. But I know him better than you could ever hope to. And nobody would put themselves through the pain he does just to keep you able to call yourself a hero.” She did air quotes around the word ‘hero’.

Viper quirked a dark brow, as if waiting for her to continue. But it wasn’t Hemera that spoke up, it was Sage from behind the agent. “Are you talking about his.. How do I.. Medical history, I suppose?” And Viper looked at the other woman over her shoulder, surprised by information she clearly wasn’t made privy to.

Hemera tossed the notebook down and picked up a different folder, one stamped by Sinai Health.

“Rapid cellular decay, followed by-”

“Rapid cellular regeneration.” Sage finished for her.

“What does that mean, Sage?”

“It means that Grimshaw heals by sacrificing his regeneration and obtaining more decay. His cells… Rip themselves apart and stitch themselves back together. It’s barbaric, and painful.”

Viper only scoffed, attention turning back to Hemera. “His Radiant abilities mean nothing in comparison to his actions against this team.”

“On the contrary, his Radiant abilities go to show how much he put forth on this team. He could have simply chosen a different set of them, but he chose specifically to use them to heal. Something you, Doctor, have forgotten how to do.”

Hemera was able to counter every medical point with a point of her own. She’d studied his file when he got home from the incident. Kingdom was very insistent on their investigation of him after what had happened. Files she had obtained with his permission just before he disappeared without a word. Disappeared for this.

“The Achlys you have in containment may not be the brother I grew up with, but he is the brother I have now. I know familial bonds are beyond you, Doctor Callas, but I refuse to sit idly by and have you question me for hours when I have actual work to do.” Her attention turned back to Brimstone. “You are the commander here. Bring me to my client.”

Brimstone sighed but he obliged. “Sorry, Sabine, but she has grounds.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I do not think we are.” Sage piped up softly.

Hemera kept her head high, folders tucked under her arm, as she was led down to the holding facility. She ignored the curious glances from agents she only vaguely recognised, and she certainly ignored the blue stare of somebody she was positive destroyed a city at some point? Then, maybe it was that woman’s counterpart? Hemera had much to think about, but little time.

“Monarch, open up.”

Brimstone knocked on the door, taking a step back to wait. The door clicked several times then hissed at it slid open, revealing the familiar agent on the other end. But Hemera was a lawyer, and lawyers love lying. Her expression maintained cool and collected as Monarch let the two in, having been abandoned by Sage and Viper.

But when she saw the cell behind the agent.

Her eyes widened as she stepped past them, rushing to the cell, she pressed her free hand against the brightly lit glass.

Achlys stepped forward, mask and bandage removed, he looked terrible. His tan skin was pallid, his form was solid, but the way it wavered, she could tell it hurt to maintain. The bruises and scrapes on his visible skin hurt her heart.

“Hemera..?” His voice was raspy as he weakly lifted his hand, pressing it against the glass, against hers. “What are you doing here..?” Achlys inquired, but as he did so, his form flickered, dissipating into several wisps before violently reforming.

She frowned, watching him weakly fall back to the small bed in the room. “You have all these lights on him?” She turned her attention back to Brimstone, clearly displeased. “You’re killing him! Turn these off immediately.” She demanded, and Monarch wasted little time configuring the controls to turn the room dark.

Achlys audibly breathed in relief from within the now dark cell, as if he’d been given water after days without it. Hemera looked into the dark cell, unable to see him now, but knowing he was there. “I’m going to exonerate you, I promise.” She swore, turning away from the glass to look at Brimstone.

“I’m aware that it isn’t my place here, but everything Grimshaw has given us so far indicates that somebody else is the traitor.”

“Then why won’t he tell us who?”

Grimshaw was quiet in the cell, honestly, he may have fallen asleep. Hemera wasn’t sure, she wouldn’t put it by him.

“Because he weighed the options and gathered that the risk of telling the truth would be more dangerous than having him locked up. Obviously.” Hemera moved closer to the door, where the only LED strip was that could provide her light.

She sat down, opening her folders to read through them.

“That was exactly what he told me.” Monarch confirmed, doing their best not to read the confidential information on her papers, but she snuck a peak or two at the information written down. The things Grimshaw hid in the dark.

“Achlys.”

“Yes, Emmy?”

“The traitor.”

“I will not tell you either. They are more important than I am.”

Hemera narrowed her eyes, pausing on his words. “More important than you?” She clarified, looking towards the dark cell. His red eyes opened, a soft glow against the darkness. But the colour disappeared quickly.

“Yes.”

“So it isn’t Brimstone or Viper.”

Monarch tilted their head, attention turning to the woman on the floor who went back to looking at her files. “How do you know?” She inquired, surprised by the woman’s inference.

“If they were of the highest caliber of importance within the organization, he wouldn’t emphasize the person in question only being more important than him. Therefore, it isn’t those two, and I doubt it to be Sage.”

Brimstone was taking notes on a tablet, listening intently to what the other three had to say. It made sense, somebody more important would have just as much information on the transfer as Grimshaw did.

It was several hours of questioning, back and forth, without Grimshaw ever spilling the identity, instead clarifying the gravity of problems that would occur if he were to. But the things he said both matched up with Hemera’s files, and Brimstone’s. And without Viper in his ear, Brimstone began to crack in his opinion.

Too much of the evidence was circumstantial, and too much of what he said made sense. He was able to answer each question posed calmly and concisely.

“I would never put this team in harm’s way.” Grimshaw promised and Hemera looked up to watch his unstable form press against the glass.

“I believe you, Achlys. They’re your family.”

Dark wisps pressed against the glass, sliding down, as if a hand and fingers. “I’m a doctor first.” He spoke so quietly on the other side of the glass. “That is why I defected from my original team. I could not stand to see any more destruction after I witnessed what happened at the facility. My world must find another way.”

“Your research was on the effects of cross world teleportation, right?”

“That is correct, Monarch.”

“What were your findings?”

Grimshaw paused.

It was a good minute before he replied.

“Rapid cell multiplication, mitosis at an impossible rate, and subsequent cell death. The radianite exposure of the teleportation was killing the employees slowly.”

“Is that why you hid the plans?”

“Yes, sir.”

Brimstone stopped typing on his tablet, finally looking at the unstable form in the cell, the wisps of black smoke and the barely visible skin. “I’ve heard enough.” He decided, looking down at Hemera who was expectantly looking at him. She had successfully proved her point, and maybe not Grimshaw’s innocence, but the fact none of what they knew could hold him the way they had been.

“Release him, Monarch.”

Her eyes widened, unable to hide her smile as she bounced to the control panel. Some of the lights turned on, but the cell door slid open, allowing Grimshaw’s form to spill into the room. Hemera stood up, legs numb as she ran to him.

He solidified in time with her colliding into his body. “Achlys.” She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapping around him. Achlys brought his hand up, pressing it against her back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble sooner?” She chastised, but her tone was anything but malicious.

She was worried.

“Don’t exactly have access to a phone, Emmy.”

“You could have sent someone sooner!”

Grimshaw paused, tilting his head as he looked down at her. “I never sent anybody.” Hemera’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at him. “I’ve been under surveillance, you can ask Brimstone, I haven’t sent anybody.”

“That’s true.”

And Hemera lowered her head, laying it against his chest instead. She understood, they took the risk of their own volition because he was not the only one who considered this team their family. She would keep their secrets for them, as best as she could. But there was one thread untied, one thread that hung loose.

“I received a call the other day.”

“I assume so if you’re here-”

“No, not regarding this..”

“What do you mean, Barrister?”

Hemera released her brother, but stayed close to him as she turned towards Brimstone and Monarch, both of whom looked at her curiously.

“I received a phone call from Amir. I.. I never met him in person but my Achlys informed me of him when they met. I thought it was your- our Amir, I guess. But-”

“Alpha and Omega, we’re Alpha. Well, not him.”

She nodded. “I thought it was Alpha Amir, Cypher you call him? But before entering the facility I was greeted by him. I guess he saw me coming.” She laughed, and it was accepted. He would. He had eyes everywhere. “And I asked about that phone call.”

“Omega Amir contacted you?”

“I- I mean it would have had to be! He introduced himself by his full name and he talked about you and- I was so confused because..”

“Hemera! Just say it.”

“He said Vera died! In an accident and- and you needed to come home.”

But their Vera had died a long time ago, when she was told, it didn’t make sense. Not entirely. But then, this all made her realise the obvious. Vera’s counterpart.

“I need to go to Omega immediately.”

“What?!” “Huh?!”

Grimshaw flinched at Brimstone and Monarch’s in sync reactions.

“There’s a lot I still haven’t told you.. The little things about my life there, outside of Kingdom, outside of Legion.”

#☾*✲⋆. fates' will #⋆｡°✩ Grimshaw #☾*✲⋆. creatio ex chao #3289 words if u even care.

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jeniffercheck · 1 year

Text

light blue (nothing's gonna stop me now)

shivlina fic exchange: exposed affair with a side of shiv becoming twitter's rich white lady of the month, s2 canon (until it's not), set during 'safe room' - 2x04, shivlina are established affair partners.

words: 7.7k

read here or on ao3

for @shivvroys<3

“Do you have a Goodreads?”

Shiv pauses in the bed. Karolina’s been scrolling through her phone, laughing every so often at a cat video that she desperately needs to show Shiv right now, asking her if she’s heard about some absurd foreign news that Karolina gathers from the pits of Reddit.

(Because Shiv desperately needed to know that a rolled truck in Canada covered an entire highway in celery.)

It’s the worst part of the night, when the hours turn into minutes and the minutes to seconds, and every passing moment becomes one less that they get to breathe the same air. One less that they get to sit next to one another and exist in their small bubble, away from all the bullshit that makes up their lives.

“What?” Shiv asks, flopping her head to face Karolina.

“A Goodreads account,” Karolina says. “Do you have one?”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. She shifts closer to Karolina, trying to get a better look at her phone. “Why?”

Karolina shifts the device into Shiv’s view. “I think you’ve been discovered.”

“What?” Shiv rips the phone out of Karolina’s hand, eyes quickly scanning the screen. It’s her account, and the numbers do look suspiciously higher than usual. She grabs her own phone and opens the app, and lo and behold, hundreds of notifications have rolled in throughout the day. Likes and comments on her reviews, followers on her account. She’s not not used to it, her Twitter and Instagram receiving a healthy amount of engagement compared to the average user, but those are staged. This is…fucking embarrassing.

“How the hell did they find this?” she grumbles, clicking through some of the followers.

“I don’t know,” Karolina says. “Maybe the one-star and very detailed review of that unauthorized biography on your father was a good hint?”

“My review?” Shiv asks, scrolling through her page.

“I mean,” Karolina continues, “I don’t think the words, ‘My dad,’ were very helpful in keeping yourself anonymous.”

It appears on Shiv’s screen, a review logged last week. Sloppy, choppy, and boring as hell—she deletes it before she has time to read the rest.

“Oh my god,” she says, covering her face with her hands. “I was drunk when I wrote that.”

“Well, you’re a tough critic when you’re plastered,” Karolina says. Shiv’s mouth curls upward in disbelief as she unveils herself to Karolina, who seems to be fighting a smirk of her own. Shiv can’t contain her laughter as she drops back onto the bed, and Karolina follows, perched on her elbow next to Shiv’s head.

“What are the optics on this?” Shiv asks. The last thing she needs is to start an internet war with some E-List author. Karolina pulls her phone back in front of her, the screen flashing as she swipes through different apps, her nails making that grating tapping sound that pisses Shiv off when she’s trying to go to sleep.

“Uh—” Karolina pauses, zooming in on something. “Well, looks to me like you’ve just become the internet’s newest white girl of the month.”

“The what?”

“I mean, just look—” Karolina holds out her phone again, urging Shiv to read whatever’s on the screen, Twitter coming into view as Shiv does so. She scrolls through a variety of tweets, phrases like feral and deranged and mommy punching through. “They’re going crazy over you.”

@evermores: Does anyone else think Shiv Roy and Nate Sofrelli had something going on?

↳ @dazzlinghaze: why do you know random ass Gil staffers

↳ @evermores: Spoken like a fake fan.

↳ @notromanroy1: they were definitely boning

@milfhotline: I mean I know she probably steals money but she’s hot, so.

↳ @moonhaven: ???

↳ @Ryan2334657: Her dad is Logan Roy. Definitely a family of thieves.

↳ @moonhaven: sorry are you their bank? maybe she hates him. we don’t know

↳ @milfhotline: oomf out here defending a capitalist?

@candlenights: I don’t care what y’all say. Shiv Roy is my new Caroline Calloway. If she wants to steal, let her. Who am I to deny a woman her wrongs?

“Why the fuck do they all think I’ve stolen money?”

“You’re a Roy. It obviously means you commit wire fraud for breakfast,” Karolina says, scrolling through more tweets. “You should reply to one of them. Fan the flames.”

“Why would I do that?”

Fanning the flames sounds like the opposite of what her years of PR experience have told her.

“It would look good, engaging with the culture,” Karolina argues. “You know ATN’s viewership is sixty-eight percent senior citizens? Imagine if you brought in the youth. Your father would salivate.”

Shiv sits up, looking at Karolina doubtfully. “You, Karolina Novotney, want to brainwash the youth with ATN?”

Karolina shrugs, that hint of a smirk still visible on her face. Shiv scoffs playfully.

“Fuck you. You just want to see what would happen.”

“Fine,” Karolina concedes. “Sue me.”

“Yeah,” Shiv says, leaning over to press a kiss on Karolina’s forehead before getting out of the bed. “You couldn’t afford that.”

Karolina gasps, throwing a pillow at Shiv. “Whatever,” she says. “I just think it would be a good temperature check. Organic.”

“Well, I’m not engaging,” Shiv says. “I’m disengaging, if anything. I’m deleting my Goodreads and leaving the rest to their imaginations.”

“Their imaginations certainly are impressive,” Karolina says, grimacing at her phone.

“What is it?” Shiv asks.

“I thought you were disengaging?”

Shiv rolls her eyes. “I am.”

“You’re no fun,” Karolina says, pouting as she stands, but Shiv walks back over to her, lightly pushing Karolina back on the bed.

“You hang around me because I’m fun?” she asks, hovering over Karolina. She stops just as she reaches Karolina’s lips, and Karolina’s breath hitches. It’s then that Karolina’s laptop chimes from the other end of the room, and both of them sigh, an unwelcome reminder that their time for the night is officially coming to a close.

“You’re so much fun,” Karolina says before she leans up, stealing a chaste kiss from Shiv’s lips. “What time is Tom expecting you?”

Shiv sighs, rising once again.

“Thirty minutes ago,” she says. She walks into Karolina’s bathroom, pursuing her things that are already there. It all feels so simple, having a toothbrush in Karolina’s holder, having pajamas in her drawers. It’s a second life, sure, a home away from home, but it doesn’t feel any less real than the other parts, the parts where wakes up in the middle of the night and wonders why Karolina’s hands feel so big, why her sink looks so different. She washes her face, pushing the thought away for another time.

“Shiv,” Karolina says, her accusatory tone following Shiv into the bathroom.

“What?” Shiv asks, drying her face. “He’s fine. Mondale’s there.”

Karolina’s silent as she leans against the door frame, watching Shiv freshen up. It’s one of the more humiliating parts of the routine, running home to her husband who thinks she’s well on her way to becoming the next Head of PR for Waystar, guiding his eager mouth through the dark to her already-bruising breastbone, lest he think the marks came from anyone other than himself. Karolina looks at her sadly. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s annoying when it does, the sour mood or separation catching them both by its vicious claws.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Karolina asks. She asks at least once a week. Shiv would find it endearing if it didn’t make her feel entirely suffocated by just the thought of her actions.

“I told you, we have an arrangement,” Shiv says.

“And you’re not lying to me?”

Shiv sighs. She’s not lying, not really. She and Tom do have an arrangement. She stays out of Tom’s business—not that he even makes an effort to participate—and he stays out of hers. It’s simple, and she wants it to stay that way, but still, a part of her knows things with Karolina have gone outside the parameters of the arrangement. So, she’s not lying, but she isn’t quite sure where the truth fits just yet.

“I’m not lying,” Shiv says. “And Tom doesn’t own me. If I’m late, I’m late.”

“Alright,” Karolina says, voice still weary.

“What, you want to get rid of me so soon?” Shiv teases.

“I wouldn’t let you hog my sheets all the time if I wanted to get rid of you,” Karolina says.

“I do not.”

“Prove it,” Karolina challenges, and Shiv laughs.

“Should I set up the cameras before, or after we fuck?” Shive asks, facing the mirror. Karolina laughs, but it’s small and she replies by hugging Shiv from behind and resting her chin on Shiv’s shoulder. They lock eyes through the mirror.

“Stay over tonight,” Karolina says.

It’s an easy ask, as easy as anything else Karolina ever asks Shiv to do for her, and a rare one at that, and it tugs at Shiv the way it always does when she has to deny Karolina of something that she wants. Karolina, a never-ending stream of goodwill and wonder, Shiv, a constant disappointment.

“What do you get out of this?” Shiv suddenly asks, and Karolina doesn’t hesitate with her response.

“I get you.”

“But—” Shiv stammers, unsatisfied by the answer. “Like, what do you get out of it?”

Surely Shiv is not the prize. She’s a consolation, a means to an end. Karolina should be lucky to have her, sure, but when luck runs out, what’s left? Shiv is convenient.

“You make me feel normal for a little while,” Karolina says. “Like I’ve finally done something right. You do.”

It feels like a cosmic joke, Karolina saying that Shiv makes her feel right when Karolina makes Shiv feel as though she’s done everything wrong, her mere presence causing Shiv to rethink every action she’s ever taken to lead up to their interactions. Not that it’s Karolina’s fault. It’s a mess that Shiv’s made, one she knows she has to clean up soon, before it all comes crashing down on her.

“Not what you wanted to hear?” Karolina asks, looking nervous in Shiv’s silence. Shiv reaches up to grab Karolina’s hand, squeezing it as she smiles softly.

“Just—not what I expected,” she says.

“What did you expect?” Karolina asks.

“I dunno,” Shiv says. “Maybe that my financial crimes get you off.”

Karolina’s lips curve gently, and a soft laugh escapes her. Shiv knows she’s laughing because Shiv wants her to. Because Shiv has to leave in fifteen minutes and if they get into it now, if they let their emotions get any further, they might go places they can never come back from. Shiv turns around, connecting their foreheads. By the time she leaves, Karolina is back to some late-night work, and Shiv, back to Tom.

—

The first thought Shiv has when the gunshot goes off, is that it doesn’t really sound like anything at all. One second she’s playing Connect the Dots while being babysat by the Old Guard, and the next she’s being rushed off through the executive floor to a safe room that she isn’t really sure is all that safe, given the fact that they’re on the top floor of a high rise in the Financial District, distinctly known for having zero issues involving life-endangering events and fucking high rises.

She stumbles her way through an increasingly irritating phone call with Tom, something about the wrong safe room and she realizes that she doesn’t have a clue where Karolina is, right safe room or wrong safe room, and she still doesn’t know if there’s a shooter in the building, and she still doesn’t know where she stands with Dad, and she doesn’t know shit about anything, because everybody wants to keep her around but nobody wants to keep her in the loop.

“Where’s Kendall?” her dad is immediately asking, winded and wilting, and only ever concerned about her older brother.

“I don’t know,” Shiv says. It doesn’t seem like the correct time to remind him that she’s not Kendall’s keeper, and she’s also got bigger concerns on her mind. “Were you with Karolina? Have you seen her?”

“Karolina?” he repeats, and at first, it’s a quickening of Shiv’s heart rate, wondering if she’s somehow said too much, gone too far, but then it’s a dismissive wave of her father’s hand, a welcome sign that she hasn’t completely screwed anything up just yet. “Get on the phone with her—figure this fucking mess out.”

She does, retreat to a corner and call Karolina several times, her pulse beating harder with every passing ring. It’s not until the third try that Karolina actually picks up, just as Kendall and Gerri enter the room, and she still has enough time to roll her eyes as her dad greets Kendall, his golden boy returned safely to the throne room.

“Shiv?” Karolina’s voice comes through the receiver.

“Karolina,” Shiv sighs, relieved. “Where are you?”

“I was on a lower floor dealing with a small fire—we were evacuated right away,” Karolina says. “I’m with the news crew now, they’re prepping to go live from outside. Where are you?”

Shiv looks around. Kendall doing God knows what in the bathroom, Rhea and Dad looking awkward as all fuck on the couch, Colin hovering creepily. Gerri, it seems, is heading right for Shiv.

“In the Kensington Palace of panic rooms,” Shiv says, losing her words with every step Gerri moves closer. “I just wanted—we, wanted to check in on the response. And I—you’re safe? With the protestors outside?”

“I’m pretty sure ANTIFA is the least of our safety concerns,” Karolina mumbles, her voice getting quieter as Shiv cups the phone, Gerri stopped in front of her, gesturing to the phone.

“Can I speak with her?” Gerri asks.

Shiv has half a mind to say no. Wants to take herself and her phone and Karolina’s voice and lock it all away from others. Wants to touch her hand and make sure it’s real, that Karolina’s right where she says she is, outside of Waystar HQ, prepping some corporate shill with eyelashes far too long for national news to tell the whole world that everything’s fine, that there’s a shooter inside of their workplace but they’re all fine because this is America and guns are our friends.

Instead, she holds her phone out to Gerri. She’s at least grateful to be rid of the vibrations from Tom’s texts coming through every twenty seconds.

“How’s it looking out there?” Gerri asks into the phone. She eyes Shiv and then turns her back, mumbling a yes, and a no, and a no, we’re not legally liable, and a yes, they can say that on-air, and when Gerri turns back around, she looks as though she’s about to hang up, and if things were different—if Shiv weren’t trapped in a room with five people who definitely can’t know that Karolina is anything more to Shiv than a corporate sounding board—she’d get Gerri to stop. She’d rip the phone out of Gerri’s hands and take Karolina back.

Except, Gerri pauses. Her eyes flash suspiciously at Shiv, and she bids Karolina goodbye before handing the phone back, Shiv, using everything in her power not to look as desperate as she feels.

“Shiv?” Karolina says. “You there?”

“I’m with you,” Shiv says, trying her best to sound inconspicuous. Dad, Kendall, and Rhea are still deep in talks, but Gerri’s ears are her, even if she’s pretending they aren’t.

“I stepped away for a moment,” Karolina says. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re all good here,” Shiv says. “I’m glad we got in touch quickly. It’s best if we get a statement out soon.”

“I was worried,” Karolina says, and Shiv bites the inside of her lip. “When they said there’d been shots fired, you know, I-I didn’t know—”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv cuts her off. “You’re right, we should wait a little. Don’t want to sound too haste.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other end, and Shiv feels bad. Feels awful, actually, because she’s worried too but she can’t show that. Not right here, not in front of everyone. She can’t cry or panic, can’t tell Karolina that if something had happened to her it would’ve been the end of Shiv, that the entire time she was speaking to her husband the only thing that was on Shiv’s mind was Karolina. She can’t tell Karolina any of this, ever.

“Can I see you tonight?” Karolina then asks.

It’s small and slightly hesitant, and feels far too fragile for the circumstances, feels too fragile to be aimed at Shiv. She can’t help it. Shiv might explode if she has to deny Karolina anything ever again.

“Yes, of course,” she says. “I’ll send you the details when we’re out of here.”

“Okay, Shiv. Be safe,” Karolina says, and it feels like the words are hanging, like there are so many more they should be saying that are inhibited by time and space and circumstance, and Shiv can’t help when the spell is broken, when she forgets that she isn’t the only person in the room and her lips curl to say something irrevocable, until at the last second she looks at Gerri, perceptive eyes still plainly on her and she does remember. The destructive words swallowed, and replaced with a cordial, “You too.”

She avoids Gerri’s gaze as she hangs up, opting to read through the abundance of texts from Tom that she’s received within the last twenty minutes. He’s going to be stuck at ATN all night, and the paperwork is, “Horrendous,” considering the shooter was revealed to be one of his employees. She schedules a car for Karolina and a separate car for herself, both to be taken to her apartment. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but it doesn’t feel wrong either, wanting to just sit on her own couch in her own place and bask in the silence with Karolina.

“What did Karolina want from you?” Gerri asks suddenly, voice quiet so as not to interrupt the Boys Club still trying to land a deal.

“Uh—just wanted my opinion on some words,” Shiv says. “That’s all.”

“Right,” Gerri says. “Because it doesn’t make sense to speak with the people who are actually on her payroll.”

“Look, Gerri, if you have a problem, then take it up with Karolina,” Shiv says. “I’m sure she’d love to explain.”

She locks eyes with Gerri this time, smiling her Shiv Roy best, and Gerri just sighs. “She’s not a toy, Shiv.”

Shiv can’t help it as she laughs under her breath.

“Are you my godmother, or hers?”

Colin whispers in Dad’s ear. He stands, Rhea joining him. They’re all shaking hands, smiling as Colin opens the door.

“If I were Karolina’s, I’d be telling her to run rather than telling you not to fuck things up.”

—

Relief.

It’s the only thing Shiv feels when there’s finally a knock on her door and she opens it to find Karolina on the other side, a little more disheveled than Shiv is used to, but her Karolina, nonetheless. Shiv normally wouldn't have her over like this, not when it’s so late and Tom could be in even when she knows he won’t be, but she finds that she’s running out of reasons to care.

The second Karolina is inside and situated, she’s pulling Shiv into a hug. It’s not her first hug of the day, but it’s the first one where she feels like she’s being held. Like her hands aren’t the only two things doing the lifting, like her body isn’t a vessel for someone else to consume and spit out and mold—like she’s being hugged because someone cares. Like someone is wrapping her in their arms, not because it’s where they want her, but because it’s where she fits. With Karolina, everything fits.

“Eventful day,” Karolina says, brushing a thumb across Shiv’s cheek.

“Not really a good reflection of Waystar,” Shiv says, frowning. “An employee blowing their brains out in the bullpen.”

“We’re lucky that’s all it was,” Karolina says, and her hands tighten around Shiv, voice thick with the emotional toll of the day. “Three Roys in the building an active shooter, I mean—it could’ve been anything, Shiv.”

“Hey,” Shiv instantly says, attempting to calm the concern in Karolina’s words. “It wasn’t that. I’m fine, and you’re fine—we’re all good. Right?”

Karolina looks at her, furrowed brows and scrunched lips holding back like they always do, and she just nods. It comes over Shiv again, that wave of protectiveness that she pretends hasn’t recently become exclusive only to Karolina, and she takes control of the embrace, bringing the side of Karolina’s temple to her lips and holding her tightly in return. She wants to say something, wants to make more promises that she can’t keep, and ask more questions that she doesn’t want the answers to, but her phone buzzes in her pocket.

“It’s Tom,” Shiv says, pulling away from Karolina, and then into the receiver, “Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Tom’s voice comes through. “Are you home yet?”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. “Yeah, I got in about an hour ago.”

“Okay, good,” Tom says. “Will you make sure to feed Mondale? I’m afraid I’m going to be in the studio for a while.”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. “Can do.”

She’s being short. It’s not fair, but so many things aren’t fair. Which safe room are you in, Shiv? Are you sure there’s only one? I think they brought me to the wrong one, Shiv. I thought that it was something we wanted for me. What happened to the plan, Shiv?

“Alright, well. Everything—everything’s good?”

“Yeah, Tom,” Shiv sighs. “Your safe room kept you safe, I guess?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tom says. “Very spacious. It was nice to have some quiet time, you know? Hard to come by these days.”

“Right, no—yeah,” Shiv says. “Ours was—it was quiet too.”

“Good, good.”

There’s a lull of silence between them that Shiv often worries is a permanent fixture, but she knows Karolina looming behind her isn’t the best fuel for a conversation with her husband.

“Well,” Tom says, filling the silence, “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure, honey,” Shiv says. “Just let me know when you’re on your way, yeah?”

“Alright,” Tom says. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Tom.”

She keeps her back turned, scrolling through the calls on her phone. Tom, incoming. Karolina (3), outgoing. Tom, incoming. Roman, missed. Tom (2), missed. Karolina, incoming. Karolina, outgoing. She locks her phone, sliding it into her pocket without another glance. She finds Karolina’s set herself up at the kitchen counter, laptop out in front of her, fingers typing away. She looks up as Shiv returns, and Shiv wonders where her determined energy comes from, how Karolina can always keep going, despite it all.

“ATN putting out the fire for us?” Karolina asks.

“Yeah,” Shiv laughs sarcastically. “They’re gonna own the libs and turn a suicide into a men’s rights issue.”

“As long as the ATN audience believes it, I couldn’t care less,” Karolina says. “Waystar will provide its condolences and ATN can do…whatever the hell it does.”

Shiv knows Karolina doesn’t mean that. That she’ll be watching the news broadcast and she’ll send a scathing email to ATN’s PR department when their story doesn’t align with the professional public image that Waystar needs to maintain, and she’ll work long and extra hours just to make it right, even though there are plenty of people on her payroll that can do it just as well with her guidance.

Shiv wonders if Karolina thinks the same way about her. That whenever she asks if they can spend the night together or if they can see each other, if there’s not always a part of her that couldn’t care less. A part of her that can’t afford to care more.

“Well, with a Nazi on the news desk, I’m sure they’ll do just fine,” Shiv says. Karolina sighs and leans her elbow on the counter, head in her hand. She continues to type with one hand, a skill Shiv would find laughable on any other day, and Shiv pulls another seat closer to Karolina, resting her own body across the countertop as she watches Karolina work. Suddenly, Karolina’s typing furiously, sitting up straighter and switching through tabs at a rapid pace. Her phone dings a few times, and an unsettling feeling comes over Shiv.

“Fuck.”

Karolina’s expression has grown from slightly annoyed to exceedingly worried within seconds, and Shiv sits up instantly.

“What is it?” she asks. “Ken get high and shoplift with the Naked Cowboy?”

Except, Karolina doesn’t laugh, which worries Shiv, because Karolina always laughs at her jokes, no matter how stupid or ill-timed or horrible they are.

“Um, no, Shiv,” Karolina says. “It—it’s about you.”

Shiv goes through her mental calendar, trying to remember the events of the last week. She can’t remember stealing candy or vape fluid or murdering a fucking homeless person though, so whatever it is, surely can’t be as bad as Karolina’s frantic typing is having her believe. Karolina continues to type, and then pauses, turning her laptop screen to face Shiv, a gaudy email taking up the screen.

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Heavy is the Head

Message: Married heiress to a popular American news conglomerate spotted cozying up to a mystery woman at a gala.

Shiv tries to make sense of the words. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s a blind,” Karolina says, and Shiv attempts to calm her panic. A blind is a blind. They’re bullshit, even when true.

“It’s just the same thing as last night,” Shiv says. “Nobody’s going to believe it.”

“Scroll.”

Shiv does, hesitantly, and her heart sinks as she makes it to the next part. There’s a photo. A fucking photo of her kissing Karolina t that stupid charity gala that she didn’t even want to be at, taken by some sleazeball with an iPhone 14 and a dream. But still, it’s not the end of the world, right?

“Nobody can see your face,” Shiv says. “I mean, fine, fuck, I’m kissing a woman—that doesn’t mean anything—”

Karolina slides her second phone over to Shiv, a screen that’s usually reserved for the most desperate of occasions, and on it is a thread with a different photo, Karolina’s face and dress circled out of a crowd.

“Fuck,” Shiv repeats, because what exactly is the proper word to being outed to millions of people at once, and also, by the way, the person you’re kissing is one of your dad’s most trusted advisors, and, oh, you’re also fucking married! She looks to Karolina, who seems to be flitting between passing out and figuring out where she can purchase a military-grade machine gun to mow down the Reddit headquarters.

“Is someone on this?” Shiv asks, and she’ll admit it, she’s panicking, because normally it’s Karolina who’s on these stories and squashing them before they’ve seen an ounce of daylight, but Karolina is here, and the story’s already broken, and her eyes are a little frantic and her hands a little shaky and Shiv’s slowly losing faith that they’re making it out of this one unscathed. Shiv grabs one of Karolina’s hands, and the contact springs her into action.

“I—I don’t know, Shiv,” Karolina says, puffing her cheeks. She pulls her hand away, standing. “I need to make some calls.”

“You can use my office,” Shiv says, and Karolina nods, walking away without so much as another word. It’s a lot, a shooting and an exposé all in one day, and Shiv doesn’t even want to begin to think of the fallout. The thought of checking her phone makes her feel sick, and if the universe is at all on her side (which, it’s decidedly not, considering this is happening at all) then Dad is already asleep and he’ll never have to find out about this mess. There’s no way Roman hasn’t already found out, and she makes a mental note to come up with a list of things to blackmail him with if he enjoys his life as it is currently. And then, as if on cue, Tom is walking into the apartment, either blissfully unaware, or entirely all too excited.

“Shiv?” his voice calls out, and she steels herself, not at all ready for the first wave of consequence.

“In here,” she calls from the kitchen. It’s a little while before Tom actually enters, his slow, tentative steps confirming her suspicions.

“Hey, honey,” Tom says as he approaches. He doesn’t greet her like he normally does, his inviting arms usually engulfing her, and she’s troubled by the fact that it doesn’t bother her. The distance almost feels welcome.

“Hey,” she says. The tension is thick.

“Crazy day, huh?” he asks. He looks at her expectantly, and she imagines what he’s thinking. Maybe he wants her to fall to her knees, to beg for forgiveness. Maybe he wants her to serve him with divorce papers, to annul the marriage having violated the terms of the prenup. Maybe he wants to pretend it never happened, to forbid Shiv from seeing Karolina ever again even though they both know that Shiv would never listen to that order. She can’t tell, because she never knows what Tom wants. He pretends to want what she wants, or he says he wants less when he always wants more, or he wants things that simply don't exist, things that can’t ever exist, and she just has to stumble her way through his needs, catering to him without completely destroying her own desires.

She feels that urge again, to hide Karolina somewhere far away, somewhere where Shiv wanting can’t be used against them. Where she doesn’t have to suppress her desires just to make everyone else around her feel whole.

“Yeah,” she says stiffly. “Wild.”

Tom nods, still playing his cards close to his chest. He eyes the mess of screens on the counter, not lingering for too long on any device. It’s likely he spent his entire car ride home memorizing every detail of the news.

“So—what’s the plan?” he asks, like he’s somehow a part of it. Like it’s a business move that they’re making together and now they have to figure it out. Like it’s not Shiv’s livelihood at stake.

“The plan?” she asks. She knows it’s not the time to be dense, but he’s already pissing her off and they haven’t even begun. She doesn’t need a Tom-solution to her own mess.

“Shiv,” he says, her name coming out like a warning.

“I don’t know, Tom,” she says. “I have to—you know, I need to talk—”

It’s not the admitting that’s hard. She’s admitted plenty before. Admitted worse. It’s saying her name. It’s giving Tom that piece of her, that version of Karolina that up until now, had only belonged to Shiv. If she says her name, then it’s real. They belong to everybody. It leaves her control.

“Her,” Shiv finally says. Tom’s current state of mind is elusive. She never prided him much in the way of not wearing his heart on his sleeve, but he’s doing a good job currently, and it’s unnerving, not being able to suss out what he’s thinking.

“When will—I mean, is that—are you in contact with her?” he asks. “Because we should really all be on the same page.”

We. Us. All.

“She’s in the study,” Shiv says, and Tom’s eyebrows shoot upward.

“She’s here? Now?”

“Well, yeah, Tom. Did you want me to drop her off in front of Waystar?” she asks. “See how many different ways the paparazzi can ask her what it feels like to fuck your wife?”

“Okay, Shiv—I understand you’re upset—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Shiv says, turning away from him. “Can you just—stop, being so nice right now?”

“Well—I mean, this was a part of it, right?” he asks, that sickeningly dumbfounded expression slapped across his face. “The arrangement?”

Shiv hopes her face isn’t conveying the paralyzing lapse of nausea that she feels course through her. She can feel the boyish hurt seep through his words, pretending like the arrangement is still something he’s okay with. If she were being completely honest, it doesn’t feel like a part of the arrangement. If it were a part of the arrangement, it wouldn’t have been Karolina in that photo. It would’ve been some hot, young guy, just barely taller than Tom; enough to make her feel like he should be jealous, enough to make him jealous. Karolina is different. He wasn’t supposed to find out about her. She was supposed to be Shiv’s secret, her life away from Tom that he couldn’t touch, couldn’t steal. She won’t let him steal her now, either.

“Right,” she says. Silly. How could she have forgotten? “The arrangement, yeah no—sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Tom pouts and steps forward, Shiv’s lie like some kind of spell cast on him. It feels more morose than usual, his desperation for her bare minimum commitment to him. He pulls her into him, as if the arrangement means it’s not real. She isn’t sure either of them believes that, but she knows he wants to, and Shiv, as always, is beholden to his wants.

“It was frightening being in danger,” Tom says. “And this, on top of it all. We’ll get Rat-Fucker Sam on it. Ruin some Silicon Valley tech mogul’s life.”

“I think it’s too late for Sam, Tom. It went viral instantly,” she says. “I just need to figure this out.”

“Well, has she gotten the call yet?”

Shiv looks up. The call?

“What call?”

“You know,” Tom shrugs, and Shiv wildly shakes her head, because, no, she doesn’t know. She’s not some clairvoyant psychic put on Earth just to be able to read Tom Wambsgans’ mind when he decides the middle of a conversation is a good time to play fucking charades.

“What call, Tom?” she says again, stepping away. He looks around to make sure it’s just the two of them, which, Shiv’s pretty sure they are, considering she can still hear Karolina’s commanding voice leave the confines of the study every few minutes, and he leans in, lowering his voice.

“The fucking axe, Shiv!”

He says it like it’s break room gossip. Like Karolina isn’t one of the few people at Waystar who’s actually decent at their job, like she’s dispensable and that’s why Shiv chose her. Not a real person. She wonders if that boyish hurt isn’t just a glint of zeal, like maybe he’s finally found his opportunity for payback. Shiv gets to cheat, and Tom gets to watch the destruction. She wonders if this might not have been his play all along, let her run herself through brick walls over and over again, and watch silently until one of them finally takes her down, bruised and bloody and begging for mercy. Something tugs inside of her then, and she realizes there is a wall worth salvaging, and it’s not the one in front of her.

“She’s not getting fired, Tom,” Shiv says, hoping the blood and the cement seep through, spoken proof that even knocked down, the fragments of Karolina are deep within her now.

Tom just stares at her, open-mouthed with that stupid, disbelieving smile.

“If you’re worried about the optics, Shiv—we’ll have her sign papers. This won’t come down on you,” he says. “It’ll be quick and painless, I mean, you won’t even have to be a part of it—”

“Tom,” Shiv snaps, he closes his mouth, jaw set. “I said, she’s not fucking getting fired.”

In come the theatrics.

“Oh, oh, I mean, of course, Shiv, I don’t—I mean, I wouldn’t really think of it as a firing, more so as a sort of, Witness Protection situation,” he says. “I mean, she can’t possibly come back to the office, right? That could be, well—sort of disastrous, if you think about it.”

She tries to imagine it, tries to picture either of them returning to Waystar with a shred of their dignity, and she wants to believe that there is a way, somehow.

“She can,” Shiv says. “It was just a part of the arrangement, right? If we don’t treat it like a big deal, then it’s not. Firing her looks sloppy, Tom. It’s guilty.”

“Yeah, Shiv, it’s fine,” Tom says, finally letting some of his anger come through. “Maybe I should walk in with her tomorrow, then everyone can know I’m friends with the woman from whom I got cucked.”

“I don’t really want that any more than you do,” Karolina says, and Shiv looks past Tom, his head immediately turning towards the sound of her voice.

“Karolina, hello—”

“Hi, Tom,” Karolina says.

She’s a new kind of silent. Shiv isn’t sure how long Karolina has been standing there, doesn’t know how much of the conversation Karolina heard, but however much, Shiv wishes she hadn’t.

“Uh, hey—Tom?” Shiv says, Tom now looking back at her. “Can you just, maybe?” She nods in the direction of the door, and he raises his eyebrows before a light, “Oh,” escapes him, suddenly cordial again now that Karolina’s in the room.

“Sure, sure, yeah, I’ll just—I need to take Mondale out. All of this…energy isn’t good for his sleep schedule, so. I’ll, um, I’ll leave you two to…it,” he says, wincing near the end.

They both wait for him to leave, Karolina not daring to move closer until she hears the door shut, and even then, it’s a minimal attempt at closing the distance.

“He seemed mad,” Karolina says.

“Yeah, well,” Shiv sighs. He reacted how she’d expected. Highly upset but too desperate to actually show it.

“I thought he knew,” Karolina says, her tone slightly accusatory.

“He knew, yeah,” Shiv says, trying to sound sure. “I guess, he just—didn’t know who with, is the problem.”

She doesn’t expect Karolina to believe her, not in the way she expects Tom to take her words at face value, and Karolina doesn’t. She never does.

“So, we’ve been having an affair,” Karolina states.

“I told you, Tom and I have—”

“An arrangement. Yeah, Shiv, I got it,” Karolina says. The silence isn’t awkward more than it is uncomfortable. There are too many things to say, too many questions and strategies and unknowns. Shiv starts with what’s simple.

“Who was on the phone?” she asks.

“It was Gerri,” Karolina says. “She, um—well, she chewed me out, and then she, you know. Advice.”

“And what was her advice?”

“She told me I should stock my arsenal,” Karolina says. “HR, journalists, lawyers. She gave me some numbers.”

“Are you going to call?” Shiv asks, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t know, Shiv,” Karolina says. “I might.”

Shiv nods, unsure of what other response she could give. Of course, she doesn’t want Karolina to call those numbers. Of course, she wants Karolina to trust her, to believe that Shiv will do the right thing, to believe that Shiv would stand by her, would choose her. The longer this bullshit goes on, the more Shiv thinks that she would.

“Don’t,” Shiv says. “I’m not going to hang you out to dry. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Shiv,” Karolina sighs, and her face falls almost sympathetically. She moves closer to Shiv, though they still feel worlds apart, and Shiv wants nothing more than to reach out, to grab her hand and never let go. “It’s not you that I’m worried about.”

Dad. Shiv had nearly forgotten about him while trying to handle Tom.

“Did Gerri say—”

“He hasn’t called her about it,” Karolina says. “So, he either hasn’t seen it, or he’s ignoring it.”

Shiv lets out a sigh of relief at the information. This gives them time, a lot more time than she initially thought they’d have.

“So, we still have a chance to get ahead of it,” Shiv says. “Or he doesn’t believe it. Both work in our favor.”

“It doesn’t really matter whether he hasn’t seen it, Shiv, there’s a photo,” Karolina says. “Everyone else has seen it. The entire fucking internet has already seen it.”

“He’s the only person that matters, though,” Shiv says.

“The only person?” Karolina asks. “What about my subordinates? My boss, fucking—Hugo? There are people who want to see me fail. This could ruin me, Shiv.”

“It won’t ruin you,” Shiv says.

“I’ve been fucking the married daughter of the fucking CEO, Shiv. This is a PR disaster from hell,” Karolina says. “Who’s going to want to hire me? I’m a fucking liability now.”

Shiv waits for Karolina to say more. Waits for her to say that she regrets this, and that she never should’ve done it, and that it was a bad idea from the start. That Shiv’s malignant, a festering presence that bursts into people's lives and does her bidding and then leaves right before things go to shit, that she somehow makes it out unharmed every time, a body count living in her wake. She won’t let that happen to Karolina. Won’t even give her a chance to think it.

“I’ll handle it, Karolina,” Shiv says. “I’ll fucking, I’ll figure it out, okay?”

“How?” Karolina asks. Her voice is sharp and jagged and Shiv doesn’t think she’s ever heard it sound so unsure before, so small in the face of something so large.

“I don’t know, I’ll offer my soul to Shanghai, I’ll do the fucking management program, I’ll do whatever he wants—”

“What?” Karolina interrupts. “Shiv you’re not even in the company—”

“Why do you think I was in the office today?” Shiv asks. “It’s me. It’s fucking me, Karolina.”

Karolina shakes her head, confusion taking over her face. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know if he meant it, but he said it, and it’s something,” Shiv says. “If he wants me out of his precious politics, then it’s fucking something, okay? We have to try.”

Because if this is rock bottom, then Shiv has nothing left to lose, and she knows the Dems on Capitol Hill would kill to have the gay fucking Roy child on their campaigns. She can work with this; she just has to convince Karolina.

“Even if that did—it’s not a Get Out of Jail Free, Shiv,” Karolina says. She goes silent, her arms crossing gently. Her expression softens, her anger at the situation replaced with something sadder. She looks up at Shiv again, eyes boring into her from across the room, “Did he really choose you?”

“He said it,” Shiv shrugs. Karolina still doesn’t look convinced.

“It’ll never work,” Karolina says. “It just won’t, Shiv. The CEO of Waystar—home of ATN—with a woman?”

“Then we’ll go to Pierce,” Shiv says instantly. “Get them to agree to an exclusive sit down. Dad will be so mad he’ll back off. Fuckin’ extort the hell out of him. I’m from a crime family, right?”

Karolina’s brows furrow so thoughtfully, Shiv might think Karolina were pitying her. “No, Shiv.”

“Why the hell not?” Shiv asks, growing irritated when Karolina laughs.

“Shiv, you can’t ruin your life for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shiv asks.

“That I can’t let myself get in the way of you becoming CEO.”

And it’s that. That sentence right there, when the decision’s already been made for her. She doesn’t care if Karolina hates her for the rest of her life and they never speak again; Shiv won’t let anything happen to her. Karolina, who didn’t go running to the papers right away. Karolina, a top PR strategist who could’ve spun the story in her favor within minutes of its release. Karolina, who desperately wants what’s in Shiv’s best interests. Karolina, who’s willing to throw away her tenure for a fucking vanity title Shiv isn’t sure she’ll ever actually get. Karolina, who cares about Shiv. Who’s worried about how it’ll affect her, sure, but who cares about how it’ll affect Shiv.

“And what if I told you that it wouldn’t even be worth being CEO unless you were there, by my side?” Shiv asks, finally moving closer to Karolina. Karolina's arms are still crossed, but she doesn’t move away as Shiv does so.

“I’d tell you that’s a stupid thing to say.” Karolina looks down, and Shiv lays a hand over her arms, squeezing lightly.

“I know this is bad, Karolina,” Shiv whispers, ducking her head as well. “I know that. But I don’t want any solution that doesn’t involve you. You’re non-negotiable.”

“I’m not an acquisition, Shiv,” Karolina says. “I’m a person and this is my life.”

“I have a life too,” Shiv says. “I want you in it.”

Karolina looks up, her eyes misty. “You have a husband.”

“I don’t have to,” she says, and it’s the first time she’s admitted those words out loud. The first time she verbalizes to another person that maybe she has made some wrong choices along the way.

“You’d leave him?” Karolina asks. Shiv looks into Karolina’s eyes and knows it’s not about leaving Tom. It’s about choosing Karolina.

“You make me feel like I’ve finally done something right, too,” Shiv says, tugging Karolina’s arms free. She presses their foreheads together, and Karolina’s hands grab at Shiv’s waist. They stand there in the silence, connected, and Shiv prepares herself for it to be the end, until Karolina’s voice rings out one final time.

“Shiv—are you sure?”

Shiv kisses Karolina, and it feels like nothing could ever go wrong again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

—

“Look at this one,” Karolina says, rolling over in the bed. It’s been like this every morning since the divorce went through, Karolina doing her morning doom-scrolling and subjecting Shiv to the first round of daily tweets. She assumes one day it’ll get old, but for now, the only thing Shiv cares about is the peaceful glint in Karolina’s eyes and the easy smile she adorns, and Shiv lays her head on Karolina’s chest, giving her undivided attention to Karolina’s selection.

@milfupthesun: shiv roy has game like that ?

↳ @chaostheory: i mean we’ve all seen her girlfriend

↳ @milfhotline: want a waystar baddie soooo bad now

↳ @onemintjulep: need her to teach me her ways

↳ @notromanroy1: shiv is definitely not the one with game

“Wait a minute—” Shiv snatches the phone and sits up, squinting at the screen. “Is that fucking Roman?”

#evil laughter i think #<333333333333 #shivlina #shiv roy x karolina novotney #succession fic #shivlina fic #shivlina fic exchange 2023 #duskfalls

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