#I wish Seattle would have picked up on words
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Frozen Pain - Jackson Avery
Word count: 1600
Summary: Love that's real, doesn't know a distance, does it?
You're holding a cup of coffee, comfortable in the luxurious beige couch in your penthouse apartment in New York. You held a letter in your hand, visibly upset.
Hey y/n
I hope this letter finds you very fast. It has been quite some time since we last saw each other at the hospital, or even had a good talk.
And I wanted to let you know that everyone misses you so bad. The hospital just isn't the same without you, or our after-shift drinks at Joe's.
There have been changes since you left. So stay calm when reading this. But Jackson and Maggie are dating now. It came as a surprise to all of us, and it may seem evil but I miss seeing you happy with him.
I thought you should know since you were...you know what I mean.
I know it's been a while since we last spoke, but I hope you'll find the time to write back when you receive this letter.
Take care, I hope to hear from you soon.
Amelia
"I can't believe this... Jackson and Maggie?" You muttered to yourself placing your cup of coffee on the table and folding the letter closed.
Images of you and Jackson together, happy and in love, flash across the screen. The memories of your past relationship flood your mind.
You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You pick up your phone and dial Amelia's number. After a few rings, she answers.
"You have no idea how much I waited to hear you." Amelia sounded emotional about the fact she noticed you calling for the first time after you had left. "Y/n?"
"Amelia, why didn't you tell me about them when I was still there?" Your voice trembled even if you didn't want it to. "I should've known, you know I should've."
" I didn't know how to break it to you. I thought it would be better if you heard it from me." Amelia spoke, sounding apologetic.
"Well, thanks for that. I can't believe he moved on so quickly." You sighed, leaning back into the couch, staring out of your window. "Maybe I left at the right time."
"I know it hurts, but y/n, you decided to leave Seattle. You had to follow your dreams, remember?" Amelia reminded you.
You sighed deeply, nodding your head even if she couldn't see. " I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. I thought what we had was special."
"It was special, and it still is. But sometimes life takes unexpected turns. You deserve happiness too, you know that." She answered on the other side.
" I just wish I didn't have to find out this way." You muttered, wiping away the tears that fell from your teary eyes.
"I understand. But remember, I'm here for you, no matter what." The Shepherd sister spoke. "Just remember, you're strong and capable of creating your happiness."
"I will try to remember that." You hang up the phone and take a moment to collect yourself. Despite the pain, you know deep down that you made the right decision by pursuing your career in New York.
You open your laptop that's on the coffee table and check your emails. You notice a mail from Jo with the subject 'Don't hate me'. You click on the email and start reading.
From: Jo Wilson
Subject: Don't hate me
Hey y/n,
I hope you're all settled and doing great. I wanted to let you know something that happened yesterday.
I bumped into Jackson and Maggie in the parking lot, and it seemed like they were arguing, or breaking up, or anything else that wasn't any good. And yes, sometimes I'm too nosy.
I know your history with Jackson, so I thought I should let you know.
But here's the thing... I accidentally I repeat, accidentally, let it slip that you live in New York.
I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to reveal any of it! Not without your permission. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that there's a big chance he's on his way to you.
You quickly close the laptop, unsure of what to do next.
You grab your cup of coffee and walk over to the sink. You place the cup in the sink and turn on the faucet, letting the warm water flow.
"Might as well do something productive to distract me." You whispered to yourself, looking at the dishes.
You proceed to wash the glasses, rinsing off any soap residue before placing them on a drying rack.
Suddenly you hear a knock on the door. You cautiously make your way to the door and open it, revealing the last person you'd expect standing on the other side.
Not thinking for another second you tried to shut the door.
"Even three seconds is enough...I just need to know that you're okay." He said, placing a hand on the door, making sure you didn't close it. "Wilson told me you took the offer in New York. I just- I had to see it for myself."
"Well, as you can see. I'm in New York not in Seattle." You shrugged at the man you once fell for or still had, but you couldn't show. "Maggie knows you're here?"
"Who told you that..." He furrowed his eyebrows, taking his hand off the door.
"Amelia wrote me, Jackson. I know you've moved on, so I think it's best if you do as well." You gave him a small smile, trying to close the door once again.
"You've been avoiding my calls and messages. Can we at least talk?" Jackson asked, his eyes staring back at yours.
" I guess we can talk, but I'm not sure what there is left to say." You sighed, opening the door wider for him to walk inside. "What do you want to know?"
You closed the door, sitting down on your couch.
"I just want to understand why you left so suddenly without talking to me. I thought we had something special." He folded his hands on top of his knees, looking at you.
You shook your head in denial, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears pricking in your eyes. "Jackson, it's not that simple. Andrew died, Alex left, Meredith was going to leave, and I needed some time to process everyone leaving me."
"But why didn't you talk to me? We've always been open and honest with each other." Jackson turned his body towards you, leaning an arm on the couch headrest.
" I know, and I'm sorry. I should have talked to you, but I was terrified. Scared of losing you, scared of facing my own emotions." You answered, placing your face in your hands.
"I broke things off with Maggie, she...she doesn't feel as home as you do. We've been through hell and back, we can do it again." He said.
"Jackson, it's not that simple. We both have our baggage and unresolved issues. We can't just start from where everything ended?" You got up from the couch, walking over to the huge window, staring down at the busy city.
"I believe in us. I believe that we can work through our problems together." He spoke as you felt him standing behind you.
"I need time to figure things out. I need to understand my feelings and what I want. It's not fair to either of us to rush into anything." You replied, turning around, your heart quickening as you stared back into his bright eyes.
As Jackson stood in front of you, his eyes filled with determination, you felt your resolve waver.
"I'd do anything if I have to, only to make things work out between us," he said earnestly.
You let out a heavy sigh, "Jackson, you know it's not that simple. You've just left Maggie behind."
"I know, I know," he said, running a hand over his head. "But I've let go of things in the past that I regret now, but y/n, you? You're, you're something I could never regret, ever."
You turned back around, fighting back the emotions swirling inside of you. "I don't know if I can do this again." You whispered.
"Just...just give me a chance to show you." he pleaded, taking a step closer to you.
The memories flooded back, the laughs, the tears, the late-night conversations. Despite your best efforts, you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips.
You looked up at him, and he smiled back, a hopeful glint in his eyes, and the city lights twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of your penthouse.
He leaned in, and your heart skipped a beat as his lips met yours. The kiss was intense, filled with both longing and regret.
"What are we doing?" you whispered, breaking away.
"Right now? I don't know," he confessed. "But I miss this and I miss us."
The ache in his words mirrored your own emotions, but you knew it was dangerous to reopen old wounds. "We can't keep doing this to ourselves," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
"I know, but I can't walk away." Jackson pleaded, his eyes searching yours.
A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through you, and you let out a frustrated moan. "And you think, I can?" you admitted, feeling the weight of those words hanging in the air.
He pulled you close, and a bittersweet laughter filled the room. "Then let's try," he said, his voice determined.
As you looked into his eyes, the city hummed in the background, and you knew this decision would change everything.
#greys anatomy imagine#greys anatomy imagines#greys anatomy x reader#request open#jackson avery imagine#jackson avery imagines#jackson avery x reader#greys#jesse x reader#jesse williams x reader#jesse williams imagine#jesse williams imagines#jesse williams#greys x reader#greys anatomy#jackson avery
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i wanna be the one | part 1
Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.
Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol
Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.
Word Count: 3,284
London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.
Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.
You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.
It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.
You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.
That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.
“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.
You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.
“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.
“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.
“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”
“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”
You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.
Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.
The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.
By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“
“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”
A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”
“Four.”
“Two.”
“Three?”
“Two, McCabe.”
“Two and shots?”
“…”
“Two…and shots?”
“…one shot.”
“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”
A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.
“You always this quiet?”
You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.
“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”
You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.
“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”
That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.
“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.
The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.
“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.
“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”
You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.
“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.
“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”
“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”
Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.
You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.
Yep. You fucked up.
#woso#arsenal wfc#arsenal women#woso fanfics#woso x reader#arsenal x reader#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson
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Any recs where Talia or the hales absolutely hate stiles or disprove of their relationship? I’ve already read the searching ceremonies.
hedwig221b (don't feel awkward! 🩷) also had a fic that matches this ask. So, go read that as well if you're a fan of the angst.
The Happiest of All by Hedwig221b | 32.5K | Explicit
“It’s every wolf’s dream. To find a perfect mate, to procreate. It’s a necessity, it’s healthy. It’s in our blood; akin to the moon in the sky, a wolf belongs to their mate. And humans don’t have the capacity to become a mate.”“But I love him,” Stiles whispered, begged.Talia stayed silent for a couple of minutes.“That’s why you should understand it’s not healthy for him to be with you,” her words were simple and clear, like a piece of glass, but sharp all the same. “He will not find true happiness with you. You’re wasting his time. Preventing him from having a future he deserves.”
Also, compromised-emotionally suggested this one.
Down By Contact by standinginanicedress | 117.4K | Explicit
Lydia looks over her shoulder to look at Derek Hale again, then back to him. “He’s an asshole, you know.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles is confused, furrowing his brow. “I’ve only spent the last ten years of my life fighting with him.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, he’s an asshole,” she draws the word out nice and long, as if it takes on a different meaning depending on exactly how she says it. “No one who has ever dated or hooked up with that guy has ever had anything nice to say about him after the fact.”
“What do I care about that?”
She looks at him. It’s that all-knowing, all-seeing gaze, like the eye of Mordor. Stiles feels tiny under its wrath, so he looks away and stares down at his beer can, traces the design with his thumb. “I know you, Stiles Stilinski.”
“Not really. We only dated for, like, five months.”
With a snort, totally uncharacteristic of her and something she would never do sober, she rolls her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why.”
Hmmm. Not really, but here are a few.
Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K
Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn’t expect and aren’t sure they approve of….
A Pair of Shoes by ReedMeme | 5.7K | Explicit
He was the human boyfriend. A lot of them don't really approve. Of course his boyfriend had to have a huge family. Which makes sense with the whole Werewolf thing, he supposes. But once in a while, Stiles still wishes he knew that before falling abso-fucking-lutely head over heels for Derek Hale.
Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar | 18.4K
Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident.
Talk Me Down by SylvieW | 26.3K | Mature
After the Hale family narrowly escapes the fire, Derek moves to New York to escape their lingering resentment. There, he meets Stiles, and feels an instant connection to him, but their relationship, and Derek’s self worth is tested by the hurdles Derek’s pack throws at them
I Would Fake Forever With You by Halevetica | 53.9K
Derek Hale is the black sheep of the family, always has been. That’s why he moved to Seattle. Now he’s got a job he loves, a nice apartment with an incredibly hot and endearing neighbor, Stiles Stilinski. One night when Derek’s overly large and demanding family shows up early for their yearly visit, they run into Stiles, who is accidentally introduced as Derek’s boyfriend.
Taught by Experts by unpossible | 29K
“Let me get this straight,” Stiles says. “You’re going to be publicly dating someone else.”
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Comfort
Vince Dunn
Authors note: Vince is my comfort player. I love him. So it’s only fitting that I write about him in a comfort fic. No clue on word count. Pictures are from Pinterest. I think the only trigger is like 3 curse words? And a little bit of angst, just a tiny bit.
❤️❤️❤️❤️
~~~~~~
Isn’t it strange? There are so many people out there who secretly love someone. And yet there are so many people who have no idea that someone secretly loves them.
~~~~~~
Vince was new to Seattle. He had just gotten traded, he knew it was coming, but yet he wasn’t prepared for how much of a difference it would be. In St. Louis he had his friends. But here, he was so new he didn’t have friends yet and with his family in Canada he was struggling trying to settle in. He just wanted someone to talk to and hang out with. His floor in his apartment complex was very quiet, as far as he knew there were only two tenants, him and a very very quiet person, as far as the other rooms, they were used for storage. He never saw his neighbor nor had he heard them when they came and went. Until today that is, he was texting on his phone while walking down the hallway when all of a sudden something, or someone, smacked right into his chest.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention I—“ the cute blonde stopped speaking immediately when she looked at him “wow your eyes are really pretty.” Vince grinned. Kinda taken aback by the chatty girl. “Oh I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time” the girl stuttered.
“It’s really not a big deal. I’m Vince” he stuck out his hand. The girl took his hand and she swore electricity shot up her arm. “Y/n” she smiled dropping her hand and reaching for her apartment keys.
“Well for the record y/n you have very beautiful eyes as well” he added with a wink and a panty dropping smile. He felt an odd sense of calm and peace when they touched hands. “Do you flirt with all your neighbors Dunner?” She asked.
“Wait how do you—“ his eyebrows pinched together, she knew who he was.
“I work for the Kraken sometimes. I’m one of the extra medics they call in when you guys get too crazy out there. It’s my job to know who you guys are. But you should get going before you’re late to training” she leaned into her doorway of her apartment.
“Shit, yea. Well I guess I will see you around then, don’t be a stranger. You can come hang out anytime, I’m only a door away” he smiled and started to walk down the hall to go to the gym. Looking back over his shoulder he noticed her watching him “you too Vince”.
*a few weeks later*
Y/n was sitting on her couch alone, only because Vince was out of town on a roadie. She didn’t realize how much she had gotten used to his presence until he was gone. Literally. He was constantly in her apartment, and if he wasn’t at her place she was at his. At this point they were the equivalent to roommates. Vince tried to convince himself it was because he felt calm and peace around her, not that he had a massive crush on her. He made the mistake of telling his friend Sam about her and he hasn’t heard the end of it.
Y/n wasn’t mad about constantly having the cute hockey player in her apartment over the last few weeks, however she did wish he gave some heads up when he came over though. There’s been many times he just barged in when she was looking like a mess or had just crawled out of bed with her hair everywhere. He claimed it was a cute look for her but she was still mortified. He was like sex on legs, he constantly looked amazing. Between his dark curls and his bright green eyes she knew she was fucked. Plus his constant flirting and the need for physical touch was not helping her case. She quickly picked up that physical touch was how he needed reassurance. He always mentioned how she kept him grounded and not in his head, she took that as a huge compliment, he didn’t seem like the type to let people in very easily.
Her phone vibrated on the table, bringing her out of her trance she had fallen into, she reached out and saw a text from Vince.
From Dunner 😈:
Hey babygirl, you able to talk?
Babygirl, the name he called her when it was just them, she loved it. It often became Babe around his friends and teammates. But she wasn’t mad about that nickname either. She hit the call button and waited for him to answer.
“Someone’s impatient” she rolled her eyes when he answered.
“You’re the one who texted me, I figured it would be a waste of time by texting you, just to have you call me” y/n explained.
“That’s fair. What are you up to?” He said, he sounded tired.
“Laying on my couch” y/n said.
“Sexy, what are you wearing” he smiled.
“Vince” she rolled her eyes “don’t make it weird.”
He laughed “come on babygirl live a little, I know you’re wearing my shirt.”
Glancing down she scoffed “no I’m not” yes she was, “How was your game” she quickly changed subjects.
“I knew it” he grinned biting his lip. He loved when she wore his clothes. “It was good, did you watch?”
“I always do” she sighed “when do you come back?”
“I knew you missed me” he chirped.
“Quit teasing me or I will hang up” she pouted. Messing with the hem of the worn out shirt.
“No you won’t, you miss me too much. But I’ll be back in a few days babe” he yawned.
“I’m gonna fall asleep soon” she said also yawning.
“You should stay up, I wanna keep flirting with you” he whined.
“You’re ridiculous” she laughed.
“You never flirt back, it’s boring” he said.
“Umm yes I do, you’re just super attractive and it makes me nervous to flirt with you too much, I never know when you’re being serious” she laughed.
“I’m always serious babe” he said, after a note of silence on her end he added “get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow yeah?”
“Yeah, goodnight Vince.”
As y/n hung up he looked at his lock screen photo of them. They were out at a club with the team, she was in a dark blue dress and he was wearing a black t shirt and dark jeans. She was sitting on his lap with his arm around her back and they were taking selfies. He had just touched her exposed shoulder with his cold beer bottle when she jumped. Then he snapped a photo of them mid laugh. It was his favorite picture of them. For as much as he teased her about her missing him, he was certain he missed her way more. Being away from her was weird. Especially since they had only met a short while ago. He’s never clicked with someone this quick before. He didn’t know what to make of it. His friend Sam had tried giving him advice on asking her out but he wasn’t sure how she felt about the situation. A text came through bringing him back to reality.
From Babygirl 🥵:
Goodnight 💕
To Babygirl 🥵:
Goodnight babe
~~~~~~
We looked at each other just a little too long to be just friends.
~~~~~~
*a few weeks later*
Y/n was adding some final touches to her makeup before she heard her door unlock.
“I’m coming!“ she shouted as she grabbed a hair tie to throw on her wrist. She walked out into the living room seeing Vince drop his duffel bag by the door, he was wearing a dark game day suit and his curls were styled perfectly. It’s a shame that hair will be covered by a helmet soon. Damn he looked good.
“You ready?” He asked.
“Yeah, just let me grab a few things,” she grabbed her purse and her water bottle. She was going to the game tonight because they were playing the Canucks, the Kraken tend to get a little rough with each other when they played teams close to them. Mainly because the crowd was always intense and got the energy going in the arena. So naturally Vince had convinced her to carpool with him, with games like this he always got a little hotheaded. Just having y/n around him seemed to keep him calm. Which he would need after tonight’s match up with their Canadian neighbors. She was his first friend here, and somehow between the late night talks and flirting he had fallen for her. Even some of the teammates had noticed how he kept her close to him, literally and figuratively. Little did he know that she had fallen for him too. How could she not. The two of them just fit so perfectly together. The drive to the game was filled with flirty banter and small talk.
~~~
The game was a bloodbath. Penalties were called left and right. Players were coming off the ice like crazy with cuts and bloody noses and injuries constantly. It was a good thing they called in backup, which they definitely utilized. She was right behind the players bench watching everyone with such intensity, even the other team. The end of the second period was nearing, she couldn’t wait for the team to have an intermission to cool down. The energy in the arena was out of this world. She had been to plenty of games before, but none had been this intense.
Then it happened, gloves came off and it was a blur of blue and white wrestling on the ice, punches and insults thrown around like nothing. She forgot how to breathe once she realized it was Vince who was fighting. As a medic she was used to blood, especially at the hockey games, it never bothered her but it was different seeing Vince bloody. She wasn’t sure how long they had been fighting. After what felt like a lifetime the refs finally ripped the players apart. Vince immediately going towards the bench, he was yelling. The teams physician pulling him to the side and down the tunnel checking for any major injuries. They had moved so fast it didn’t register to y/n that they were halfway to the locker room already.
“No, I want y/n! Please!“ Vince shouted. Y/n snapping out of her frozen stance she followed the physician down the tunnel and into the locker room where she heard him shouting. As she turned the corner she immediately went for gloves and gauze. Throwing her hair up in a bun the physician was explaining what she needed to do, he had his hands full with this game, she was happy to help but still in shock that Vince was the one she was tending to. “No concussion, but we need the cut on his lip and cheek cleaned up and check his teeth for any other bleeding. He’ll return for the 3rd period. When you’re done with him send him where the rest of the team is. Oh and check his shoulder too, he took a nasty hit.”
“Yep. Got it” she said as she was washing her hands and putting gloves on to look at his face. As she stepped in front of Vince she grabbed his face gently making him look at her, still in shock over what she had witnessed. Yes she knew hockey was a violent sport. Yes she knew there were lots of injuries. But seeing Vince get hurt and in a fight was something she wasn’t prepared for. He was breathing hard, still pissed off about the call and the fight. But as soon as y/n was in front of him he felt better. She was explaining what she was doing, and asking permission to clean him up. He wasn’t listening, he knew she had to do that for her job. He leaned forward and just hugged her waist, leaning his head into her side, not saying anything. His breathing still heavy but starting to even out.
“Vince, I need to clean that cut,” y/n sighed.
“Y/n please. I need to calm down. Just—Please.” He was wound up, he tried to keep his voice level, not wanting her to hear him yell. So she let him, his sweat and probably blood going on her shirt. She just stood there and rubbed his back, well she tried to rub his back. It was hard with all the pads and gear on. After about 5 minutes of him just hugging her he finally pulled away. She didn’t say anything, she just looked at him, he nodded to her and she started looking at his injuries. He never looked away from her face. He notices the grey swirls in her eyes, she was holding back tears, the long black lashes, the freckles lightly dotting across her nose.
The cuts weren’t bad, and his shoulder was fine. Relief flooded her, when she was done she took her gloves off and threw everything away, “Vince, are you ok” she said looking at him. He was already looking at her.
“I’m ok” he breathed out “thank you baby girl.” He stood up and kissed her on the forehead, letting his lips stay there for a second longer than he should have, and walked to where the rest of his team was. She let out a huge sigh and sat down. After a minute she walked back to the bench for the last period.
The game ended in overtime with the Kraken winning. Y/n was charting and filling out paperwork when the team was finishing up post game interviews and showers. Vince walked around the corner to meet y/n by the team parking, and they walked together to his car. Once in the car Vince’s hand soon found its way to y/ns thigh, still needing some sort of comfort from her, she set her hand on top of his and intertwined their fingers. They said nothing the entire way home. Not even as he grabbed her hand and walked past her door straight to his apartment. It was rare that he was this quiet after games. They always fell so easy into conversations, but she didn’t dare speak first this time. She sat on the couch as he went into his room to change. After a few minutes he came out and handed her one of his old shirts, she walked to the bathroom to change. She grinned once she saw it was her favorite shirt of his, a very worn out hockey shirt from when he played for the Icedogs in his OHL days. It fell to her mid thigh, which was fine, she normally wore boy short underwear so she wasn’t super uncomfortable in just the shirt.
As she walked out of the bathroom she saw him in the kitchen. His sweatpants hanging low on his hips. She could see the tension in his back muscles still. She walked up to him and just hugged him from behind, even though he towered over her. He turned around and lifted her up to where she was sitting on the counter and his hands were on either side of her legs. They stared at each other for a minute. Y/n reached out to brush his curls off his forehead. He leaned into her touch and as she went to grab the side of his face he grabbed her hand a kissed the back of it.
“Y/n. I am sorry for what happened earlier.”
“Vince, I’ve seen you fight before it’s not a big deal, I just panicked for a second when I saw that you were the one hurt, and with everyone screaming that loud in there I just shut down.“
“ No, let me finish please.” He sighed, “it’s not that. I—fuck. He made a comment about you and it set me off. Y/n you give me a sense of calm that I’ve never had before. I’m pretty hotheaded and get worked up pretty easy out there. You’re the only thing that can calm me down, and that terrifies me. Every time I’m around you I just feel peace, and comfort. I’m not sure how to explain it, and I know it sounds dumb but I just need you to stay with me.”
“Vince I’m not leaving, you make me feel the same. I’m not sure when it happened for me either but everything is easy with you. I don’t want it to stop” Y/n said.
“Can we go to bed then? Just relax for the night?” Vince looked at her.
“Yes.”
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'tis the damn season — harringrove relay race
Summary: A modern AU in which Steve has to spend the holidays alone for the first time. It's a good thing his next-door neighbor has other ideas.
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove
Rating: T
Word Count: 1k
A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race ( @harringrove-relay-race ).
When Robin said she had to go back to Hawkins for Christmas, Steve tried to tell himself it was a good thing. He’d have the entire apartment to himself, which meant he could lounge on the couch in his pajamas and eat whatever he wanted without any comments from his friend. It would be a good thing, because Dustin was always telling them that they needed to learn how to exist apart, citing something about ‘codependency’ or some shit that Steve never bothered to really pay attention to.
He told himself it didn’t matter that everyone he knew had a home to return to for the holidays, and he was stuck in the rundown apartment he and Robin could barely afford in the middle of San Francisco.
At first, it was even fun. He danced around the living room to his music without any complaints from Robin about the amount of Springsteen that existed on his mixtapes and didn’t bother to cook a single meal on his own when pizza delivery was an easy solution.
But then the apartment grew hauntingly and stiflingly quiet, even when the music still blared. Nothing seemed to solve his loneliness.
At least, until his neighbor made himself known.
It was the guy who lived in the studio apartment across the hall, the one that Robin had lovingly called ‘Malibu Barbie’ after seeing him return one morning with a surfboard under his arm. He was quiet most of the time, with the only proof that he was around being the occasional blasting of his rock music (not that Steve minded, it was proof there were other people around).
They’d never had any reason to talk before, but Steve supposed December made everyone act strangely for one reason or another.
“Where’s the girlfriend?” Steve’s neighbor asked when Steve came home from work one night, exhausted from the last day of classes before the elementary kids went on winter break. The neighbor looked more casual the usual, dressed only in jeans and a white tank which revealed the beginnings of a tattoo sleeve winding its way down his right arm. He was holding a laundry basket close to his hip, his front door barely cracked open as if he’d started to enter but stopped just to talk to Steve.
“The who?” Steve asked, only realizing a moment later who his neighbor was talking about. “Robin? Gross, no. She’s like the annoying little sister I never had. You know I used to wish for one of those as a kid? Someone thought they were funny sending Buckley my way.”
Malibu Barbie grinned at that one—a devilish thing that made Steve want to swoon right there in the hallway. “Trust me, I know all about annoying little sisters. Mine’s in Seattle right now with her mom.”
“Her mom?”
“Susan married my asshole dad years ago. We haven’t talked since their divorce but Max still thinks it’s funny to call me every week. Something about sibling bonding or some shit,” Malibu Barbie said with a shrug.
Steve laughed despite himself, suddenly able to picture his neighbor rolling his eyes at every call but still picking up anyway. “See Robin decided we’d just move in together after school. Dragged me all the way here.”
“So where’s Varsity Ken from?”
“Varsity Ken?”
Steve’s neighbor shrugged at that. “Blame Max. She thinks she’s funny.”
“You must think she’s funny too, if you’re using her jokes,” Steve returned, leaning against the open doorway of his apartment once it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Don’t let her hear that. I don’t need the shitbird getting a big head.”
“Well, I guess she should meet Robin. She’s called you Malibu Barbie for weeks,” Steve laughed.
“Barbie and Ken, huh?” his neighbor laughed. “Guess they’re trying to tell us something. Subtle little fuckers.”
It wasn’t too often Steve got this many laughs in, especially not recently. Hawkins hadn’t been a safe home in years, and though he loved his chaotic life in California he did ache for some of the normalcy that this time of year brought back in Indiana.
“Look, I’m having a lonely movie night tonight. I rented a bunch of cheesy Christmas romcoms and enough candy for twenty people. Come be lonely with me?”
“How do you know I celebrate Christmas, pretty boy?”
“Well do you?”
Malibu Barbie just smirked at that and tossed his laundry basket just inside his apartment before shutting the door. “Hanukkah, actually. But I do celebrate cheesy romcoms with a real-life Ken.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a ‘you better have Reese’s cups’,” his neighbor said back.
“Who doesn’t get Reese’s cups? That’s against the spirit of romcom movie night,” Steve laughed, opening the door to his apartment for his neighbor.
Robin would not believe him when he told her what happened, if only because she was constantly reminding him that his flirtation skills had dropped considerably since stepping away from the ‘popular’ life back in high school. He’d have to thank her though, because if it weren’t for her silly nickname he’s sure his neighbor wouldn’t be getting settled on the couch in their apartment now.
“We starting with Love Actually, Ken?” Malibu Barbie called from the couch, lifting the case from the coffee table.
“Who do you think I am, man? Put it in,” Steve laughed, sitting down as close to his neighbor as he dared, setting a small bowl of candy between them. “And you don’t have to call me Ken all night. Steve works just fine.”
“I kinda like Barbie, but I guess you can call me Billy,” his neighbor said in return.
It was easy to relax with Billy. They watched movies all night, though did a lot of talking the entire time. Steve hardly noticed when the sun set and rose again to start a new day, too busy getting to know Billy Hargrove—the hot next door neighbor who he apparently had a lot in common with.
Maybe this holiday week wouldn’t be so bad without Robin. At the very least, he’s pretty sure he has the best story to tell when she gets back.
Please look forward to the amazing work from the next contributor, @raven-cl
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Hi!
I want in in the DVD commentary thingy! If you have the time, please comment on this one from In The Afterlight, please! (I'm also on my phone, so I'm not sure how many words are here, sorry 😬)
""Would you like a ride to Seattle?”
"Huh?"
"Next Saturday. Do you want a ride to Seattle?"
"What? With who?”
“Me. Obviously.”
“Why?”
Edward sucked in a breath. "Well, I couldn’t go to La Push. And I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks. And frankly, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."
This again? What is it with everyone dissing my truck? “The Thing works just fine, thank you very much."
"But can it make it there on one tank of gas?"
"I don't see how that’s any of your business."
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."
"Wow. Edward." The audacity. My veins crackled with electricity as his name left my lips. "You’re giving me whiplash. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
"I said I can’t be friends, not that I didn't want to be."
"Thanks. Cleared that one up.” The alarm silenced. For a moment we observed the flood of students scattering back into the buildings.
“Will you go? With me?”
I sighed, squeezing the coat closer to my chest. It smelled so good...
I shrugged out of it. “Honestly, I don’t think so. No.” The word fell between us like an iron curtain. Stunned, Edward accepted his coat without looking at me. We descended back down the sidewalk towards the school. “One minute it seems like you hate me—”
“I don’t hate you—”
“—and the next minute you’re like this suave—” sexy “—gentleman. Personally, I would like to be friends.” He gave me a look. "Well. I don't want to not like you, anyway." We rounded the corner of the building in silence. “Y’know, I even listened to your Girls! Girls! Girls! picks.”
His eyes lit up; the rejection washed away. “Really?”
My eyes fell to the ground as I nodded to keep him from seeing the blush on my cheeks. “That riff in ‘We’ll Be Together’ is awesome. ‘Song of the Shrimp’ made me laugh. And ‘Where Do You Come From’ is...really cute, actually.” We stopped at the metal roof covering the path to class. "They were good tracks. Doesn't change my mind about the album, but..."
“Come to Seattle with me,” he breathed, wrapping his hands around one of the metal supports, stopping close in front of me. “Please.”
His spicy breath drew me deeper into his gravitational pull. I had to shake my head to clear fuzzies from my brain.
“See, that’s the thing,” I said. “I think we have a lot in common and everything—” he smirked “—but you aren’t honest. I know something's up. And if you can’t talk to me... how can I trust you to drive me to Seattle in one piece?” All the while, he stared blankly. I think, if he was more of an open book, I’d see his face fall. Instead, I watched his eyes go dead and dull. “Your whole ‘I wanna be friends’ thing is moot if you don’t have the decency to tell me why you treat me this way.”
“I...appreciate your honesty. I wish there was some way to reconcile my feelings on the matter.” His lips twisted. "Unfortunately, I...can't."
Can't? Or won't?
“No one can force you to do or not do anything," I said, my voice stern. “You're in charge of your actions. You’re choosing to not be my friend. Which is fine. But since that's the case, my answer is no. I’m sorry. The answer’s no.”
Unlike previous moves with Renée, this time I wouldn’t be sucked into the orbit of friends who didn’t actually want me around. This time, I would invest in people who wanted me.
I exhaled the rest of the poison from my lungs. They filled again with the heavy, cold air.
"No," he said softly, "I'm sorry."
“Rejection is unfortunate for everyone,” I echoed.""
------------------------------------------------------------
*Quick additional (sincere) question: Why send anonymous asks? Is it to avoid the answerer eventual bias? or to protect ourselves of possible public shaming lol?
hi, welcome to the party!
IN THE AFTERLIGHT CHAPTER 5: SCARY STORIES - DVD COMMENTARY
""Would you like a ride to Seattle?” [this is the best Edward can do when asking a young lady out on a date. little hermit loser!!!]
"Huh?"
"Next Saturday. Do you want a ride to Seattle?"
"What? With who?”
“Me. Obviously.”
“Why?”
Edward sucked in a breath. "Well, I couldn’t go to La Push. And I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks. [liar] And frankly, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."
This again? What is it with everyone dissing my truck? “The Thing works just fine, thank you very much."
"But can it make it there on one tank of gas?"
"I don't see how that’s any of your business."
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business." [i HAD to include this line. imagine a BILLIONAIRE saying that shit to do. boy, if you're so concerned with the "wasting of finite resources," maybe don't have a private jet? or a car?? maybe kill cows instead, THE LEADING CAUSE OF METHANE GAS EMISSIONS???? FUCK OFF INTO THE SUN!!!!]
"Wow. Edward." The audacity. My veins crackled with electricity as his name left my lips. "You’re giving me whiplash. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
"I said I can’t be friends, not that I didn't want to be." [one of my biggest regrets writing ITA is sticking too much to canon, both in terms of specific lines and general plot outline. if i was rewriting this, i would have veered off from canon within the first two chapters.]
"Thanks. Cleared that one up.” The alarm silenced. For a moment we observed the flood of students scattering back into the buildings.
“Will you go? With me?”
I sighed, squeezing the coat closer to my chest. It smelled so good...
[so, i get that canon!Bella making irrational choices when it comes to Edward is a product of both the "dazzling" spell she's under *and* her love for him. but also, if you're going to set her up as a shield *and* set her up as this responsible 30-year-old, then i think it's really important for her to have moments like these where she's able to resist his charms and protect herself. to me, her resisting him in this moment is partially due to the shield she develops later on.]
I shrugged out of it. “Honestly, I don’t think so. No.” The word fell between us like an iron curtain. Stunned, Edward accepted his coat without looking at me. [ok but this poor guy has NEVER asked anyone out and has been surrounded by humans who would never dare reject him LMAO he is SHOOK--] We descended back down the sidewalk towards the school. “One minute it seems like you hate me—”
“I don’t hate you—”
“—and the next minute you’re like this suave—” sexy “—gentleman. Personally, I would like to be friends.” He gave me a look. "Well. I don't want to not like you, anyway." [it's weird looking back and seeing how well they know each other (yet how distant they are!)] We rounded the corner of the building in silence. “Y’know, I even listened to your Girls! Girls! Girls! picks.” [i don't like this album at all. i REALLY wanted to reference Elvis Presley's "Crawfish" until i found out it was a song from the movie he starred in. the movie was not good.]
[also, here's a playlist of every song rec in In the Afterlight]
His eyes lit up; the rejection washed away. “Really?”
My eyes fell to the ground as I nodded to keep him from seeing the blush on my cheeks. “That riff in ‘We’ll Be Together’ is awesome. ‘Song of the Shrimp’ made me laugh. And ‘Where Do You Come From’ is...really cute, actually.” [i don't agree with any of this.] We stopped at the metal roof covering the path to class. "They were good tracks. [NO THEY ARE NOT] Doesn't change my mind about the album, but..."
“Come to Seattle with me,” he breathed, wrapping his hands around one of the metal supports, stopping close in front of me. “Please.”
His spicy breath drew me deeper into his gravitational pull. I had to shake my head to clear fuzzies from my brain.
“See, that’s the thing,” I said. “I think we have a lot in common and everything—” he smirked [he's thinking, "You have no idea how little we have in common." idiot] “—but you aren’t honest. I know something's up. And if you can’t talk to me... how can I trust you to drive me to Seattle in one piece?” All the while, he stared blankly. I think, if he was more of an open book, I’d see his face fall. Instead, I watched his eyes go dead and dull. “Your whole ‘I wanna be friends’ thing is moot if you don’t have the decency to tell me why you treat me this way.” [i really really wanted this Bella to not accept bad behavior from her boyfriend EVER. the main point of writing this fic was to create a healthy relationship between them and see if it could actually work. lo!]
“I...appreciate your honesty. I wish there was some way to reconcile my feelings on the matter.” His lips twisted. "Unfortunately, I...can't."
Can't? Or won't?
“No one can force you to do or not do anything," I said, my voice stern. “You're in charge of your actions. You’re choosing to not be my friend. Which is fine. But since that's the case, my answer is no. I’m sorry. The answer’s no.”
Unlike previous moves with Renée, this time I wouldn’t be sucked into the orbit of friends who didn’t actually want me around. This time, I would invest in people who wanted me.
I exhaled the rest of the poison from my lungs. They filled again with the heavy, cold air.
"No," he said softly, "I'm sorry."
“Rejection is unfortunate for everyone,” I echoed.""
------------------------------------------------------------
*Quick additional (sincere) question: Why send anonymous asks? Is it to avoid the answerer eventual bias? [will i be biased? probably! but not in a negative way] or to protect ourselves of possible public shaming lol? [would never ever shame you for any ask. takes a lot of courage to reach out to an internet stranger!!!]
send me 500 words of my fanfic & i will give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet
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Lonely In London
Relationship:
Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso
Additional Tags:
Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Summary:
Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
CHAPTER 2
It's ridiculously early on a Wednesday morning when Ted next hears from the podcast.
Dear Ted Lasso (The Ted Lasso???)
Firstly, allow me to apologise if you were hoping to remain anonymous in our correspondence. Your full name is in the email address you used to email us, and I come from a journalism background so not much gets past me. Rest assured that if you are indeed the Manager of AFC Richmond (as the context clues from your letter seem to confirm) your secret is safe with us.
This is just to ask if you would be alright with us setting up a forwarding address for emails from our listeners. We weren't anticipating you being as popular with our listeners as you are, but our inbox is flooded at the moment and seeing as the whole format of our show is dependent on the emails we receive from our listeners, it's making it difficult for us to navigate our normal mail between all the mail addressed specifically to you.
So far, from what I've seen, all of these emails seem to be from lovely people would like to commiserate about that shared feeling of loneliness. That said I cannot guarantee that every email is going to be as innocent. You wouldn't believe the shit we get in our inbox sometimes. Please take this into account when making your decision.
All that's left to say is thank you again for your letter. The episode that featured it has been our most successful by quite a margin and has boosted our subscriber base substatially. I understand that this was likely not your intention when emailing us, but I wanted to thank you for it anyway.
Wishing you all the best for your future adventures in the world of romance. I'd throw my hat in the ring myself if I wasn't such a raging lesbian.
Kind regards,
Lauren Miller
Content Coordinator, Help I'm So Sad Podcast
Breakneck Media Network
Ted reads and rereads the email chuckling each time. It's the best thing he's received for a while. Whoever this Lauren is, he think he'd enjoy shooting the shit with her over a pint. And maybe it's just a particular way journalists write, but some of the bite in her writing reminds him of Trent's.
Which reminds him – he's promised Henry he would do something.
Howdy! Glad to hear Anabelle's safely back in London with you! No pressure if you're busy or if you don't want to, but Henry's been asking when we can get ice-cream with the Crimms again, and I promised I'd ask. It would be nice to talk at any rate. I have some ideas about Richmond that I'd love to pick your brain about as someone who knows far more about this sport I find myself coaching than I do. Let me know. 🌻
He almost second guesses the sunflower, but it's a standard part of their correspondence now, ever since Trent first started reacting to his messages that way and Ted started sending them back. He doesn't know if it counts as flirting, but it's on the border of it enough that he doesn't mind taking the risk.
He's just about to respond to the email when his phone dings next to him.
Anabelle (and I) would love that. She hasn't stopped talking about Henry since last time. She's told me she thinks he's the coolest person ever. In so many words. Let me know when you're free. My schedule is astoundingly open at the moment.
Ted grins.
How about tomorrow around 3? I've heard it's going to be a scorcher of a day by your wilting English standards.
Nice try. You've told me before that it's only barely warmer there on average than it is here. You don't get to play the American superiority card on this one.
(3 tomorrow sounds lovely, though.)
Mr Crimm, practically everything in your royalty-having, tea-loving, swearing-as-affection little country is winning me over. At least let me cling to the one or two things that I still pretend to completely love about America. 🤠🦅
(Looking forward to it🌻)
He worries for a while that he's playing too far into the realm of flirting and scaring Trent off. But then his phone dings again.
Fair enough. It's a small price to pay to hold onto Richmond's secret weapon.
(Likewise. 🌻)
He grins like an idiot and turns back to his email. He's riding such a high now that he can't even be that worried about the whackadoos he might be letting into his inbox as he types his reply to Lauren.
Hi Lauren
Thank you for your discretion. I'm not as worried about myself as I am about the wellbeing of my club and my son, who's staying with me for the summer. So your silence on the matter of me writing in continues to be appreciated.
Please go ahead and set up the forwarding address. Y'all have been so kind to my son and me with the advice, the least I can do is make sure that your inbox isn't a nightmare to navigate.
Also, do y'all have a physical address? I would really love to come by and drop off something small to say thanks.
Hoping to hear from you soon.
Lonely In London
(Ted Lasso if you're nasty)
He doesn't bother waiting for a response before setting to work baking a batch of shortbread. Worse comes to worst, he'll give the batch to Trent, who, although Ted knows will never admit it, has a soft spot for it as much as Anabelle does.
Maybe he'll set some aside for Trent anyway.
He's just considering the merits of making a second batch when Henry stumbles out from the bedroom adorable and sleep-tousled, clutching his favourite duck plushie.
"Hey, Bud," he says, throwing an arm around Henry as he comes to say good morning. "Did you sleep well?"
Henry nods and rubs his eyes.
"Are you making your Rebecca cookies?" he asks.
"Yes and no," Ted replies. "Yes, it's those cookies. No, they're not actually for Rebecca. I thought we could take a trip to the Help I'm So Sad studio to give them a batch to say thanks for all their kind advice. What do you think?"
"Yeah!" says Henry, suddenly wide awake. "Can I help?"
"Of course. Why don't you go shower and change quick and we'll make the next batch together?"
"Okay!" he says, dropping his toy on the counter and bounding off with all the enthusiasm of a pre-season Dani Rojas.
"Oh boy, Quackstopher, just wait till he hears we're also getting ice-cream with Trent and Anabelle again tomorrow," he says to the abandoned duck, loud enough that Henry will hear it.
"We are?" he says, racing back into the room.
"Tomorrow," Ted laughs. "Go get today going and we'll get cracking on making some for them too, okay?"
Henry gives a little excited squeal in the place of words and runs off to the bathroom.
For a small moment, Ted can't imagine why he ever needed to write into a show called Help I'm So Sad in the first place.
***
Not since the early days of fancying Shaun has Trent put this much thought into choosing an outfit for something that isn't even a date. But here he is, putting on and removing items of clothing. Changing into and out of jeans. Trying to figure out what provides the maximum amount of looking good while simultaneously looking like he didn't put much effort into putting it together.
"Belle-Belle," he says, turning around to the corner where Anabelle is playing a few of her Barbies to get her opinion on two of his shirts. "Should I wear the pink shirt or the blue one?"
"Pink!" says Anabelle, holding up her Barbie in what Trent assumes is an explanation if the hot pink dress is anything to go on.
"Well, that's on me for asking the four-year-old who doesn’t believe in any other colour, I guess," laughs Trent. "Thanks, Squish."
He wears the pink shirt and is rewarded an hour later with a massive moustachioed grin.
"Nice shirt, TC," says Ted, pulling him into a friendly hug. "The colour suits you."
"Thanks, Ted," he says, hoping that between the glare of the sun and Ted's dark glasses his blush is obscured enough that Ted doesn't notice it. "You're looking well yourself."
"Aw, shucks," says Ted. "Don't get me all flustered now."
Henry steps forward to shake his hand and hand over a box of what Trent, to his delight, suspects might be a batch of his famous shortbread.
"Hi, Teddy! Hi Henry!" says Anabelle excitedly and Ted honest-to-god gets down on his haunches to talk to her.
"Well hey there, always-swell Anabelle," he says. "How's Thursday been treating you so far?"
"Good," says Anabelle, suddenly shy. "I've brought my Barbies and Daddy says we're getting ice-cream."
"That we are," says Ted. "Just as soon as I figure out how I'm getting up again."
He makes a big show of not being able to get up despite Anabelle and Henry's best efforts to pull him to his feet, and Trent is too charmed to even be embarrassed by the number of people watching them. Or the old lady who mutters "sweet little family" a few feet away. Let them believe that this is his dorky partner. Trent should be so lucky.
He's hit with the realisation that he's so in love it almost physically hurts.
With one last hoist, Anabelle and Henry succeed in getting Ted to his feet and when Ted loses his balance a little in the momentum, Trent is only too happy to catch and steady him. Ted, to Trent's surprise, does actually look slightly flustered for a moment, before seemingly shaking it off
"And that's why in our business we say 'teamwork makes the dream work'," Ted laughs. "Good job, squad. High-fives all round."
After a round of high-fives, they make their way into the ice-cream parlour to place their orders.
"Sorry for causing a scene out there," says Ted softly. Now that his sunglasses are folded and hanging from the buttons of his polo shirt, Trent can see his expression is a little sheepish. "It's just, I know Henry enjoys that game. He's had a busy morning and he's a little tuckered out and grumpy to boot. I thought it would pull him out of his funk a little."
"Well, it seems to have done the trick," says Trent, smiling as he looks over at a nearby table where Henry and Anabelle are playing Barbies together. "Once again Ted Lasso's unconventional methods save the day."
"Now, Trent Crimm, that's not fair. You know I'm no match for your flattering prose." He winces as though he's over-spoken. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up your old job. Even in passing."
"It's okay to bring up my job, Ted," he says, with a gentle smile. "My time as a journalist may be at an end, but I couldn't stop being a writer if I tried."
"Fair enough," says Ted, looking relieved. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to do now?"
"As a matter of fact, I've just successfully pitched another book idea to my publisher," Trent replies.
"Well, hell, look at you go. Trent Crim, the unstoppable. What's it about?"
Trent might actually perish in the intensity of that smile.
"I was actually hoping to write about AFC Richmond." It's his turn to look sheepish, but Ted, if possible, looks even more delighted. "After all, it's a big year for you being back in the Premier League and all. And so many people, myself included, are rooting for you. Win or lose, it's sure to be a good story."
"That's a great idea," says Ted, looking genuinely delighted. "Keeley and Rebecca have been busting their butts trying to think of ways to boost our image. This is exactly the kind of thing they've been looking for."
"Yes, well, I'm still only going to write the truth. If it's a shocker of a season, I'll write it that way. Though maybe not as acerbically as I once did." says Trent, feeling somewhat self-conscious. "I don't think it will be a shocker of a season though."
"Oh yeah? How do you figure that?"
"Because in the years I've known you, Ted Lasso, I have yet to see you shy away from a challenge," says Trent. He's on the very knife's edge of plummeting into admitting everything he feels for this ridiculous, perfect man. "And I have yet to see a challenge that could best you."
He's said too much. He can't bring himself to look up now. Instead he watches as Ted scuffs a red trainer along the edge of a tile.
"Well, TC," he says in a voice barely above a whisper, "that's just about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
"Don't get too used to it," says Trent, feeling the conversation getting away from him into dangerous waters. "Deep down I'm still the bitter old journalist I was a few months ago."
"And I wouldn't have you any other way."
There's no time to unpack that particular statement because it’s at that moment they make it to the front of the queue. By the time they've transported their orders to the table, the conversation has shifted from the tenuous place it was to Henry's one-on-one training with Jamie Tartt and how Roy Kent has even joined for a session or two. Trent wonders if Henry can even comprehend at his age how lucky he is to be getting this kind of input.
To balance out the conversation, Ted asks Anabelle about her time in Scotland and is rewarded with an entertaining but practically indecipherable four-year-old's story that Trent thinks might line up with the trip to see the highland cows Shaun told him about. Ted, to his credit, attempts to follow every word, asking follow-up questions that would make even the most hardened of journalists proud.
If Trent was under any illusions that he could spend time with Ted without his feelings growing more intense each time, today has put paid to that. Trent couldn't be more taken with him, and the idea that he might still fall deeper is as wonderful as it is terrifying.
He's allowed a moment of reprieve by Anabelle accidentally upending her tub of ice-cream and bursting into very noisy tears. Ted immediately volunteers to run and get both a wad of serviettes and a replacement for her. Henry, proving he's every bit his father's son, immediately offers Anabelle some of his ice-cream and her sobs abruptly stop. Trent watches the two of them fondly. They get along so well. It could be so easy. He just wishes Ted could see it the way he does.
Ted's phone chimes on the table where he's left it. In the years to come, Trent will swear he didn't mean to do it. He'll blame it on his almost automatic journalistic instincts. He'll claim it was a compulsion he was still in the process of working out of his system.
That doesn't change the fact that he looks down at Ted's phone in time to catch an email. An email that starts "Dear Lonely In London…"
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Trent's instincts are almost never wrong. It's how he got as far as he did as a journalist. It's what made him so good at sniffing out sources in other papers. He recognises people in writing the way other people recognise faces in a crowd.
He was always going to fall in love with Lonely In London because Lonely In London was always Ted Fucking Lasso.
And he's not stupid. The final pieces of the puzzle are fitting into place. The banter that's teetered on flirting all these years. The actual flirting they were doing right before placing their order today. The way it always stops short of actually going anywhere.
He's Ted's PR nightmare crush. And that, more than anything, is what's so fucked about this situation.
It takes all of his carefully honed deceptive skills to pretend to be calm for the rest of the afternoon, but it's murder. And Ted, Lonely In London Ted, blissfully unaware, joking, just-having-a-grand-day-out-with-the-kids Ted, has absolutely no idea how much more damage he's accidentally done to Trent's poor heart.
Trent grabs a huge glob of ice-cream with the shitty plastic spoon, hoping the inevitable headache will help distract him from his gloom for a while.
Because, really, what do you do when you've come so close to everything you've ever wanted, only for it still to be so far out of your reach?
Despair, thinks Trent, as the ice-cream hits.
Next Chapter
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Feels Like
Genre: fluff
Character: Leah Clearwater
Word Count: 785
Warnings: none
(a/n: Should be sleeping right now but I was listening to a song and came up with this. Let me know what you think. If you want to know/listen to the song that I listened to prior to and during writing this, it's called Feels Like by Gracie Abrams.)
Tucked away in a small, one bedroom apartment in the heart of Seattle, I found myself running away from my lover after having attacked her with a pillow in a lame attempt to end her teasing, cheeks tinted red from my efforts to escape, and maybe a little too much wine. It was moments like those, where we run around our apartment together, laughing like little kids as if we didn't have a care in the world, that I truly understood what it feels like to be loved. To be in love. Finding a sort of comfort in her that I can't find anywhere else. Being my true self without the fear of being judged. Looking into her eyes and feeling all of my worry, fear, and self doubt fade away. Despite the sound of the heavy rain mixing with the sound of the evening traffic flooding in from outside and our music playing softly in the background, her laughter was the only sound I could hear.
"Give up?" Leah asked, a smug grin on her face, having tackled me to the floor.
Although she had me trapped, I refused to give in. Responding with a resounding, "Nope!", I tried to maneuver my way out from under her. She giggled at my unsuccessful attempt, eyes full of admiration and amusement. After a few more seconds of pointless squirming, I accepted defeat. The room grew quiet, our eyes focused only on each other. The two of us perfectly fine with basking in the silence.
Eventually, Leah was the first to break it. "What are you thinking about?"
"You." I replied simply. She tilted her head in confusion, a cute pout forming on her lips. "I'm thinking about how lucky I am to have you. To have these moments with you. Despite the predicament I've currently gotten myself into, I can't help but think of now and all the other times that I've been with you and began to truly understand what love feels like."
The honesty of my words and the seriousness in my tone caught her off guard. Leaning her head down, she nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck. It was her attempt at hiding the fact that what I had said flustered her, but I knew her well enough to know what affect my words had on her. If I could see her face, her cheeks would be burning bright red. It was then, at her moment of weakness, that I was able to free my arms from her grasp, but I didn't attempt to flee. Gently, I picked her head up so she could see my face, and so I could see hers.
"I would go anywhere in this world, whether it be here, hidden away in this apartment, or in the deepest parts of the Amazon, as long as you're there." I continued. "I used to be scared of this feeling that I would get only around you. This feeling of overwhelming certainty that I would do absolutely anything you asked of me. To completely allow myself and my world to be consumed by you. I love you. I wish there was more words in this world to explain how much I do because those three words just don't feel like enough."
"I love you, too." was all she said before closing the little bit of distance between us.
Our lips collided with a passion so intense that Cupid would cry. She may not have said many words compared to all of mine, but she didn't need to. Her actions said enough. They always did. Pulling away to allow us to catch our breaths, she brushed her nose softly against mine. My eyes remained closed, head swirling and stomach full of butterflies. It wasn't until I felt a small drop of wetness touch my cheek that I opened them again. Lifting a hand to her cheek, I wiped her tears away with a soft stroke of my thumb.
"So this is what it feels like." she said. Her words more of a statement than a question. "This is what love feels like."
It was there, on the floor of our shared living room in our shared apartment, that I lay side-by-side with my lover. Foreheads connected, fingers intertwined, hearts beating in sync. Even with the city bustling below us and the storm outside raging on, I couldn't find myself thinking about anything other than the sleeping woman in front of me. Peace and comfort lingering in the warm air around us. A soft smile on my face, my voice nothing but a soft whisper as I glanced at the sleeping beauty beside me.
"This is what it feels like."
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Dangerous Desires Chapter Two: Return to Me
Hello, I would like to begin by apologizing for my absence. I almost stopped writing this series because I lacked confidence in my writing. However, I have come to realize that the only way to improve is by practicing, and I really enjoy writing. My perfectionism got the best of me, and it stopped being fun. To sum it up, I am going to finish this book and update it more frequently. This chapter does not have any specific warnings, except for general violence related to criminal minds. Word count is ~2700
Natalie realized how much she took time for granted; she spent years snoozing her alarms for work, being late to plans she had made, and generally not being appreciative of every moment. She realizes how wasteful that was now. The team had been working non-stop since they stepped on the plane back in Virginia, and Heather still hadn't been found. Natalie was far from an optimist, but she gained some solace in her suggestion of working. Slessman put up no resistance, physically, at least during the raid.
However, Slessman seemed to be putting up mental resistance, or at least that's what it seems to be. Natalie was hauled up to a small room in the Seattle Police Station; she hadn't eaten, she was feeling dizzy, and her head was pounding. The fluorescents here were nothing like the BAU; they were a harsh white that seemed to taunt Natalie. She was sifting through old records of Slessman’s file, looking for anything that could help the team locate Heather, and picking up the phone that had been provided to her; it had been ringing all night. The people calling were well-meaning, but so far, none of the tips have been helpful.
Natalie had to stop what she was doing, and she was hit with an intense feeling of dizziness since she needed to eat to take her iron tablets. She pushed the files away and decided to go find the vending machine that she had seen earlier. Natalie felt an aching pain coming from her feet. She tried her best to ignore it and continued to walk on the carpeted floor. She left the room and felt a certain chill in the area. Slessman’s presence was haunting; she had only gotten a brief glimpse of him in handcuffs. His eyes were such a light blue that, under the fluorescent light, they were almost gray. He was so lanky that he almost looked sick. And the creepiest thing of all is that when they caught each other's eyes, he smiled at her. She felt like she was going to vomit at the sight.
His unnerving demeanor reminded her so much of—she stopped that thought. No, she, Natalie, wasn't going to allow herself to go there. Natalie hadn't paid attention to where she was going until she heard shouting. She froze, jittering uncontrollably. She looked down at her shaking hands. She took a deep breath and repeated the mantra she learned in therapy. “I’m okay; I'm not in danger, not right here.” She calmed down enough to stop shaking; she wished she was thankful she didn't freak out in front of her coworkers. They would have probably thought she was crazy; they would be right, though she felt crazy most days. She just wished she could get a grip on herself and be normal.
It wasn't until she reached a large, double-sided mirror, which is where she found the source of the yelling, that she wished that she hadn't. Agent Hotchner was disheveled, but in a way, Natalie only thought was possible in movies: he looked devastatingly handsome, his suit jacket was off, and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He had been shouting so much that he worked up a sweat, causing his hair to stick to his forehand.
She hadn't heard the best things about him from Strauss; she thought he was arrogant and insubordinate, but some part of her couldn't help but admire him in his element. Either way, it was dangerous for her to admire him; she couldn't fall in love because she knew that. Aaron started to gather his things, clearly frustrated. Natalie scurried away, resuming her mission; she didn't like to deal with angry men. Aaron felt like he was being watched and wanted to figure out from where, but was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing "Hotchner.” He responded that he was filled with the melodious voice of the tech assistant. “Tell me you love me." Aaron usually appreciated Garcia’s playfulness, but he was not in the mood.
"Garcia, the interrogation went nowhere; I don't have time for this.” Aaron tried not to take out his frustration on Garcia, but it still seeped through.
"Okay, fine, I’ll get to it after Reid theorized about there being another Unsub. I did some research on the name that Slessman's grandma gave, and it turned out to be an intimate name that he was infatuated with.” Garcia responded,
“Garcia, you're an angel. Thank you!” Aaron huffed out a bit of praise.
"So, how’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked Aaron, figuring that Morgan had already told her about how he froze this morning like an idiot.
“It's going fine.” He simply responded that he wanted to focus on finding Heather, not his unprofessionalism this morning.
“Derek told me you were staring her down this morning; does someone have a crush?” Garcia whispered back in response. Aaron sighed; he knew Garcia was going to ask about that.
“Garcia, there is a woman's life at stake, so let's please focus on that.” Aaron simply replied back in a tired tone.
“Alright, I got it. I will stay on topic, but I didn't hear a no.” Garcia perked up, laughing to herself.
“Goodbye, Garcia. Call back only if it's about the case.” Aaron responded a little sternly, shutting off his phone.
Natalie didn't know what to think. The woman was right; he didn't deny that he didn't have a crush on her, which almost made her excited, but that feeling was quickly overtaken by nausea. No, he couldn't love her; he was just trying to get the woman off the phone, that's all. Natalie assumed Aaron had left, so she let out a sigh and was frightened when his voice announced, “Who’s there?”
Natalie panicked and then realized how stupid she was for being scared. It was unlikely her boss would do anything, especially not in a police station, so she revealed herself. She immediately regretted that decision. When she saw Agent Hotchner's face fall, she realized she was in a compromising position.
“I know how this looks." She realized that she had fallen into a clique, which is not what it looks like, but what else can you say when your boss thinks you may have been spying on him? He didn't say anything for a few moments; she felt her palms getting sweaty, and her throat got dry. Then he started to move closer to her until he was so close that his breath was blowing on her, and then her heart started to race. “What was happening?” she thought. He looked straight into her eye, his expression unreadable.
"So then tell me what exactly was happening, because to me, it looks like you’re spying on me.” Now that she understood his expression, he was angry with her.
She stammered, “I wasn't; I was just trying to find a vending machine.” He moved even closer to her, which she didn't realize was even possible.
Aaron was angry; he disregarded how his heart sped up being so close to Agent Price, but now his suspicions were confirmed that she was mainly an inside person from Strauss. It was no secret that his superior and he, to put it lightly, had differences in where they had seen the BAU going, and he was constantly fighting to keep it running. Deep down, Aaron knew that's not really why he didn't like Natalie; the real reason wasn't her fault and had everything to do with him. “Let me make something clear, Agent Price. I know why you really took this job, and I refuse to let you shut down the BAU. You may have fooled someone else, but not me.”
Natalie was very confused. It was true that she had an ulterior motive for working at the BAU, but it had nothing to do with him. She nearly laughed at the accusation that she was some evil mastermind trying to shut down the BAU from the inside.
Then she got mad: “I’m no one, Lacky Agent Hotchner, and you must not be a very good profiler if you think otherwise. She nearly spit, staring him straight in the eyes. He didn't say anything, but Natalie heard the rumblings of people around her and quickly stepped back. From an outside look, it could look like two people about to—well, not threaten each other.
Aaron didn't take his eyes off of her, though. “Then why did you take this job? It's no secret that Strauss wants to dismantle this team; why are you here then?” Natalie couldn't answer that because she was here for somewhat selfish reasons. She just held her head down, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t tell you that," she whispered.
Aaron swallowed, but she still felt the heat of his gaze. Aaron felt a pit forming in his stomach. “That's what I thought.” Aaron stepped back, and soon after, Morgan called him to discuss something about the case. Natalie decided to just go back to her room, forgoing her original mission of trying to find something from the vending machine.
Slessman's cellmate was a dead end; literally, he had been dead for 2 months, and Agent Hotchner decided to call for a break until the morning at this news. Nobody wanted to, but there were also no leads, and everyone was exhausted. They pulled into the hotel they would be staying in until they found Heather. Or the killer struck again; Natalie just tried to focus on the hotel. It was pretty gaudy, covered in lights, and probably 10 stories high. It came with a full staff that doted on the entire team. Natalie didn't like being doted on, and she couldn't help but think about how much money just one night would be here. She always thought about how much money something was worth. That's just a result of growing up poor, she guesses.
It was going to take about an hour to get their rooms ready, and since room service was closed for the night, the team had no choice but to go out for dinner. If Natalie didn't have to take her medications, she would have just sat in the lounge until her room was ready. She felt numb; doing anything but help Heather felt wrong, especially when she had the means to help her. But she was back in another SUV, and this time she rode with JJ and Prentiss; she couldn't stand to be near him. No one said anything; there was nothing that really mattered except Heather, so they just listened to the radio. They pulled up to a diner, which had a large sign illuminated in the front: "Hanks.” It read that the outside was packed with cars, which gave Natalie hope that the food was at least decent. The rest of the team was already sitting inside.
“They must have sped here.” Prentiss laughed as the women made their way to the team.
They took up nearly two tables. Natalie strategically sat near Morgan and Reid, hoping that they would just bicker with each other and pretend that she didn't exist. That didn't happen, though Morgan spoke up first. “You don't talk much,” he said, with his usual smirk on his face. Natalie almost dropped her hamburger; she didn't think anyone cared about what she had to say. She took a bite, fully chewing, before she spoke. “I just talk when I have something important to say.” Apparently, this was funny because Reid spoke up. “Maybe you should take some notes, Morgan.” Morgan rolled his eyes at that.
Natalie turned her attention back to her hamburger, savoring every bite. Morgan clearly wasn't okay with this, though. “Well, how are we supposed to become friends if you don't talk?” He posed this as a glaring problem, and Natalie was even more confused. “You want to be my friend?” She asked; it would take her around 5 seconds to name all the friends she had, and she wasn't that committed to making any others. Regardless, she didn't mean to sound so surprised; it wasn't like she didn't want to be friends with him; she was just weary of men, which wasn't his fault. She wasn't friends with anyone back at Narcotics, so she assumed it would be the same here.
"Of course, and friends know things about each other, so what's your deepest secret?” He prodded.
“My deepest secret? She replied skeptically; she didn't know what to reply to. He was definitely making fun of her, she thought. Her face felt hot, and she spent all of her energy trying not to think about her deepest secret, which naturally had the opposite effect.
Reid sensed some anxiety from Natalie; he knew that Morgan was just messing around, but something about this question seemed to really bother her. So he decided to switch the conversation: “Diners, originally called lunch cars and contrary to popular beliefs, emerged in the 1920's; however, they were made popular in the 1950's." Reid continued to spout facts about diners, but Natalie had subtly tuned out, and the more she figured out what her deepest secret was,.
“I didn't like the first Scream movie," she replied, not talking to anyone in particular. She was met with a gasp by Reid. “How could you not like the first Scream movie? It changed cinematic history forever.” Apparently, Reid likes movies. Natalie thought, “I don't know; I thought the characters were annoying, and at a certain point, I wanted them to all die, I guess. She took a pause. “I think it would have been much more interesting if Dewie was one of the ghost faces.” The team started to laugh at the banter between the two, and for the moment, Natalie felt relaxed and at peace. For a moment, she forgot about why they were at the diner in Seattle; she forgot about how her boss hated her; she forgot about what her therapist had described as an avoidant attachment style; and she just enjoyed the moment.
The wheels in Spencer’s head were turning though, and his thoughts were going a million miles a minute. Eventually, he spoke up: “Natalie, I think you may be onto something.” Everyone stopped laughing and looked at Reid, interested in what he had to say next. “I think we were right about having two unsubs, but what if we were not looking for an inmate but a correctional officer?” The team pondered this and snapped back to reality; apparently, plans had changed and sleep was off the table again. Everybody had finished their last sips of milkshakes and taken the final bites of their food. Natalie was confused about how the doctor had even arrived at that conclusion, but she didn't question it.
What she did question was why Agent Hotchner insisted on dropping her off at the hotel. She knew that they had argued earlier, and maybe she wasn't as helpful as the others could be, but she didn't think she would be taken entirely out of the investigation. He didn't look at her at all during the ride and just turned on the radio. Natalie certainly wasn't going to make conversation, so they sat in silence. She wondered why he even bothered to drop her off, if he hated her that much. It was clear why he didn't just ask one of the officers to do it; in fact, why did he even care about her safety? It was these contradictions that made her furious. Natalie just got out silently when they arrived at the hotel and mumbled a thank you to Aaron.
It was two a.m. when Natalie heard the news that Heather Woodland was found alive. She had to live with lifelong trauma, but she was alive and was returned to her family. Natalie was grateful that she was alright but worried about her recovery. She knew firsthand what it was like to deal with lifelong trauma. Reid was the first person to call her and tell her the news, and she was grateful for that too. Natalie felt like she could finally sleep; she had been fighting it for hours, just staring at the ceiling, wondering if her newly found friends were being shot at or had even died. Natalie was quickly learning how different things worked at the BAU, and even though Aaron would never believe her, Natalie really didn't want to shut it down.
#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x oc#criminal minds#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner series#dangerousdesires
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The Neighbour [3.9]
A/N: Good Morning everyone!! Happy Holidays and ready to bless your Saturday morning with a dose of... all this. I put this chapter into a word counter and came up with 7.6 k and honestly, I'm proud of myself lol. Hope ya'll are having a lovely holiday season, be happy and stay safe out there!!
Warnings: smut ahead, some mild inklings of a panic attack
Masterlist
A week had shot by so fast. It had been a blur of packing, unpacking, repacking and second guessing everything that Eva thought that she needed for Seattle. She had moved around so many times, always lugging her knick knacks and chachkis from her travels; this time it felt so weird just packing a small back and a backpack.
She felt like she was forgetting so many things, leaving behind little comforts that in hindsight really wouldn't mean that much to a person. Some things were reasonable, like her favourite green cardigan -- it kept her warm through so many winters, the sleeves were frayed and it smelled like cat hair, but Eva would never dare to brave the cold without it. Other things, like her plastic skull paper weight -- a charming and macabre little souvenir she'd bought at an obscure flee market in Portland, stayed attentive at her desk, porous eyes threatening anybody that dared near her belongings.
Eva stared at her open suitcase, the clothes neatly folded and yet she still felt so disorganized. After all, California was supposed to be her last big trip, and given global circumstances, travel should have been the last thing on her to-do list this week. And yet she had a gnawing guilt in her chest whenever she spoke to her dad this week; he was always giving her updates on her mother's condition. She didn't need the image of her mother in a dialysis clinic clouding her mind, neither.
Pluto was curled up underneath the couch, having rapidly lost interest in his cotton mouse toy. The pale tabby always had a knack for becoming a deflated balloon whenever he spotted a suitcase, usually because he'd have to be shoved into his carrier and loaded under a plane seat or into the back of an Avis rental. So of course, he was hiding from his master should the threat arise.
Eva walked across her living room, taking a brief look around for her cat while she went over her list in her head. Warm sweaters? Check. Hole-less jeans? Check. A spare toothbrush because she always either forgot hers going or coming back? Check. Her boyfriend...?
With one glance at that house across the street, Eva felt her heart sink. She wished so terribly that circumstances were better in her family, then maybe it would be safer to bring Remington? But her father was already uneasy about the relationship and she hadn't even told her sister yet -- good God! When that uptight little asshole finds out she's dating a musician...
Remington didn't need the drama of her family's snide remarks and entitled elitist delusions, and quite frankly neither did she. It was the best way she knew to protect him. And yet she could picture how fun it would be to have him in her home town, showing him her old stomping grounds and all of the best places she knew for impeccable meals. Maybe one day when she could breeze into town without a medical emergency and she didn't have to have her family expecting her?
A lump began to grow in her throat; it was small and Eva swallowed it down as best as she could. However, the more she clambered around, packing, cleaning, her mind began to spin. It was as if fate had a sick sense of humour, and no matter how hard, how far she had tried to leave her past behind, the phantoms creeped through crevices and shadows, always looming, lurking, awaiting just the moment where they could pounce and drag her back nails scrapping across the floor.
She was angry for feeling guilty, never picking up phone calls and dodging family holidays for years. She never even had the urge to get to know her little half brother. But why should she? Eva's family was abuzz of narcissists and entitled brats that believed the world owed them everything. And in a way, Eva embodied those traits as well, not to the extent where she'd dare embarrass herself or her friends.
Perhaps that why she was upset, recognizing that no matter how hard she tried she could never get rid of the toxicity of a behaviour that had been bred in her from the beginning...
She didn't even register the tears on her face until she went to brush her hair away from her eyes, cringing at the slippery surface of saline-soaked skin. Eva hated crying, she spent too much of her adolescence locked up in her room and balling her eyes out. First because her sister constantly picked on her, and then she got her brother to join in. And when her mom up and left with nary an explanation, Eva truly felt what it meant to have her heart ripped out of her chest. No breakup could ever compare to the anguish of watching your mother leave you behind because you weren't good enough.
The distinctive clicking of the lock clicked and the door hinges squealed, giving Eva just barely enough time to wipe the tears from her eyes as Remington slipped inside. He had two bags of groceries hanging from one hand, and his back pack slung over his shoulder. His long hair was tucked underneath his toque in true skater boy fashion, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like a puppy on a fresh summer's day.
"I'm home, baby!" he announced. Eva couldn't help but smile to herself, hearing him call her apartment 'home' was a small but hearty comfort to her. He stopped briefly to kiss her cheek as he breezed into the kitchen, dropping his groceries onto her countertop with a crinkly thunk, "What's the name of the game tonight? That's right -- we got chickpea sweet potato stew! Prepared expertly by our in-house chef, Remington! No relation to the rat,"
Eva simpered, shuffling over and watching him pull out two large sweet potatoes, "The recipe called for two cups of potatoes, so I grabbed two of these just to be on the safe side," he grinned.
"We can make fries with the rest," she heartlessly chuckled.
It was then Remington met her eyes, his giddy smile slipping when he noted her demeanour. His tongue slipped over his lips, tasting the excess salt that he'd picked up from her cheek in that split moment.
"What's wrong?" he rounded the counter to meet her, "Did something happen?"
"N-No. I'm okay," she tried to assure, though she having a hard enough time trying to convince herself, let alone Remington.
"Eva," he voice dropped, oddly stern yet dismayed because he never liked seeing his girl upset. And his dark eyes just reached into her brain, picking on all the tells she had to try and put up a false face. He knew her too well by now to fall for it, and he reminded her she was safe as he took her hands in his.
Eva took a deep breath, her gaze averting to the floor. She picked out the nicks and scuffs in his sneakers, the grooves in the hardwood floor, how he smelled of body wash, cigarettes and autumn all at once.
"I'm okay," she nodded slowly, "I just had a minute; I got a little overwhelmed..."
Remington looked passed her and into the living room, her suitcase was tossed open on the floor, half packed neatly and the other half in disarray.
He didn't want to be stubborn and try to coax it out of her. Instead, he took her in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest and just listened to her uneasy breathing. She was trying not to cry again, but silent tears brimmed over her lids and rolled down her face. They soaked into the sleeves of his t-shirt, warm and cold when they hit his skin.
Remington waited until she could calm down, not uttering a word and yet holding her like her life depended on him solely. Because he was scared for a moment; if he had let her go, there was a fine chance she may have buckled to the floor. Through the whole calamity of her situation, Eva had remained so calm, so composed, a little annoyed from time to time, but now the reality of what was happening was finally setting in.
"It's okay," he cooed softly, "Take a deep breath, it's okay. Do you want to sit down?"
Her shoulders rose and fell, exhaling warmth breath across his neck and she reached up to wipe away her tears. However she nodded firmly, so he brought her over to sit at the table. Eva grabbed some loose napkins and dabbed at her face, sniffling quietly to herself.
"I'm sorry," she huffed, "I don't know what came over me for a minute,"
"Eva, it's okay," Remington assured, "... You know, if you don't have to get on that plane if you don't want to. We can tell them you caught covid,"
She laughed pitifully, "Like that'll go over better..." and she sniffled again, "There's just a lot I left behind in Seattle, I'm not looking forward to going back to it,"
"But you're not going back forever," he reminded her, "Even if you wind up having to... ya know... even that isn't forever,"
"I know," she sighed, "I keep wondering if the universe just has a sick sense of humor and likes to laugh at my pain sometimes. And it sucks because I want to be the best version of myself for you, and it doesn't need to involve -- that -- them," she pointed at the window, bearing the general direction of North.
His smile was endearing as he took one of her hands, squeezing assuredly, "You know, I remember a while ago, a smart young woman told me that it wasn't her job to fix me because I had already done the work. Her job was to remind me that the bad days and the awful things don’t define who you are. What you do from this point, and what you’ve accomplished: that defines you. The days where you get dragged back to your lowest moments are the ones where I'm the loudest person cheering for you, regardless of whether we're in the same room or not,"
Eva smiled then, genuinely this time as she squeezed his hand back, "Remi..."
"I think you might know her, actually! She's about yay tall, big cat person, has the most amazing blue eyes I've ever seen in my life -- she's the total package," he grinned broadly.
She simpered, "Really? Because I heard she's a bitch,"
"And whoever told her that is just jealous of her," he pressed a kiss to her head, followed to the tip of her nose, and then her lips, "Speaking of the cat, where is Pluto?"
She pointed to the couch, "Oh, he's hiding because he thinks I'm going to stuff him back in his carrier," she replied.
Remington shuffled over to the couch, crouching down and peering underneath. Sure enough, two shiny thin eyes were staring back at him.
"Well, hiya Pluto!" he greeted, then he turned back to Eva, "Should I get him out?"
"Just leave him," she shook her head amusedly, "I'd hate him to swipe at that perfect face of yours,"
He stood up and came back to the kitchen counter, "But I would look like a total badass, though," he began to unpack the rest of his groceries from the bag, however he was almost thrown aside when Eva suddenly ran up behind him, hugging him tightly. He laughed merrily and hugged her back; it was almost stupid how much he adored her.
"I love you," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"I love you, too," He threw his head back, turning his head around just enough to get a glance at her. She batted her lashes sweetly at him, still slick with moisture and dried makeup, "My sweet girl," he brought one of her hands to his mouth and planted a kiss on her knuckle, "Maybe I should tie you up and keep you so you miss your flight tomorrow?"
Eva giggled, "Don't threaten me with a good time,"
"Do you have work to finish?" he asked.
"Work to start," she huffed, not eager to get to it.
"Well, how about you get on that while I make us dinner, hmm?" he turned in her grasp.
"I can help you," she offered.
He shook his head, "No, no, you take care of what you need to tonight, I've got dinner. Besides, all I need to do is throw things into a pot, even I can't screw that up,"
She chuckled slyly, "Like when you tried making mac n' cheese without the flour, right?"
"... That was different. This is stew," he assured, beaming radiantly.
Her eyes glimmered happily in the way that he loved, and she smirked as she wandered over to her desk, "Let me know if you need anything!"
The living room stayed a mess while Eva sat at her desk, lost in her zone while fingers flew furiously over her keyboard. A lovely, hearty smell was rising in her apartment, accompanied by clamoring and clanging of spoons against pots and water running. Eva was tempted a few times to check in and watch what he was up to, though Remington swiftly caught her and scolded her not to peek.
Remington was getting better at cooking, thanks to some advice from Sebastian. He didn't mind cooking, especially when he and Emerson first moved in together -- God only knew he didn't trust that boy to put together something with enough sustenance for them. Though more than anything he enjoyed getting to cook for Eva, showing off in a way that he knew she'd appreciate.
He tasted the stew before taking it off the heat, and when he was satisfied he went to fetch her in the next room. Remington crept up quietly behind her, just peeking over her shoulder and watching her write. It looked to be some sort of outline, organized, indented and most points bulleted down. Her gaze was fixed on the screen, unaware of his presence looming over her. Her concentration broke when warm fingers pulled back her hair, followed by equally soft lips pressing to the side of her neck. Eva giggled with surprise.
"Whatcha' working on?" he asked in a whisper.
"I'm organizing a college essay," she replied.
His eyebrows popped, "People pay you to write their essays?"
"Oh, heck no," she shook her head, "They send me their research and I condense it into an outline for them to write the damn thing themselves,"
"Clever," he kissed her on her cheek this time, "Dinner's ready,"
"Smell's wonderful,"
He spun her around in her chair, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. She nearly fell into his chest, a surprised squeak emanating from her throat. He laughed after her, towing her behind him to the table.
The lights had been dimmed down, the table set simply, and an open bottle of wine sat in between two bowls of steaming stew. Despite his warning that it may be a little under seasoned, Eva enjoyed the stew immensely. It was just sweet enough, a little zesty with the hint of cilantro, and the wilted spinach practically melted into every bite. It was easily one of the most delicious meals Eva had.
"Sebastian's got some stiff competition behind him," she noted, "Maybe you guys should release a cookbook one day, too?"
Remington simpered, "101 Royale Recipes -- All Stolen From Other Recipe Books," he winked back.
"I'll draw up your own copyright, don't worry," she grinned gleefully before taking her wine glass, "How was writing today?"
"Very productive," he informed, "Chris went to pee thirteen times in six hours,"
Eva stopped mid-sip of her wine, "I don't think that's healthy?"
"I let him deal with it," Remington shrugged back, "But Michael sent us the final cut for the music video. It goes up Friday,"
There was a flutter in Eva's chest, both of excitement and nerves, "Wow! That's awesome!" She would finally get to see the video Michael and his team had been working so hard on, and of course seeing the finished product with it's Anne Rice-esque plot was elating. However, she was still weary about seeing herself on film.
"I'll probably lock myself in my room and watch it," she decided, "My dad won't get it,"
Remington grinned back, a glimmer of mischief twinkling behind his gaze, "Or... we could watch the cut on my laptop here?"
Eva popped a brow, "Tonight?"
"I have it," he nodded, "Unless you can bare the suspense of two more days,"
She bit down on her lip with unease, "Really?" and he nodded, "Okay," she giggled nervously.
"You do want to watch it, right?" Remington asked, "You put in a lot of good work, too,"
"I pretended to play the cello,"
"And you did it beautifully,"
"Yeah," she nodded along, "Yes. I want to watch it," after all, Remington was literally staring as a vampire! She'd be foolish to wait to watch that cinematic gold.
Despite his assurances that he had it handled, Eva helped him clean up the plates and pack up the rest of the stew. Her fridge was a little emptier than usual, cleaned out and only stocked with a few essentials. Remington was taking Pluto to stay at his house anyway; as much as he loved being in Eva's apartment, it felt weird to him being here without her in it.
They got settled on her couch; the curtains were drawn down with only one lamp giving them ample light to get around. Remington set up his computer on the coffee table while Eva set down a blanket for them. It was November in LA; never really cold but the seasonal energy called for it. There was still some wine left, cloistered in the corner of her counter and would probably be finished at some point tonight.
Pluto meanwhile had crawled out from under the couch, satisfied in seeing his carrier wasn't out. He was still careful, mind you, he opted to sleep against the curtain, far from Eva with enough time to escape should the threat arise.
Settling under the blanket, she snuggled in against Remington, laying her head on his shoulder as they waited for the video to buffer and play.
The video opened eerily with a black and white rain storm, followed by a pan on a group of hooded individuals that made up the Visigoths, crowding around the steps to the beautifully withered estate. The next cut sliced across the screen, with Remington as Aldous soaking wet and bloody as he was forced to his knees before Lilith Visigoth.
What followed was a seductively creepy short film, filled with mystery, intrigue, and of course, a couple of bloody murders. Eva didn't think it was possible, but Remington looked more handsome than ever; adorned in his raven tailored suit and dark makeup beneath his eyes. She watched him perform on that set, and yet he looked so hauntingly beautiful in the cast of fixed lighting shadows. Larissa and Shy looked beautiful in their gowns and jewels, darkly luminated by the academia-esque ballroom.
And much to Eva's chagrin, she had a two second frame up, her face contorting in confused terror when the horror and mayhem began to take shape. And again when she flew down a winding case of stairs to escape the vampire siege. She couldn't deny how cool she looked, how beautiful everything looked.
The story came to a tragic end, poetic and homespun of a plot by Gaston Leroux. However, it was the final cut in the video that had Eva suddenly fired up.
"They left him!?" she suddenly shouted before the video even came to a close, "His brothers just left him there to die?"
Her outburst had Remington amused, "Eva, you were there when we filmed this," he noted.
"But I didn't think that's how we were gonna' end it!" she sat up abruptly, poignant accusingly at the screen, "What about the girl? Isn't she gonna' save him?"
"I don't know. Guess we'll need to wait for the sequel," he pulled her back down, moving to mutter quietly, "You looked amazing,"
Eva's cheeks tinted red, averting her gaze to the blanket, "I wasn't paying attention to that part," she shrugged listlessly, "I was too focused on everything else,"
"Like me hopping over a balcony to chase you down, right?" Remington chuckled back, smirking with an effervescent smugness.
Eva thumped his shoulder, "You didn't hop a balcony," she pointed out.
"But I would if I needed to," one hand slithered around her waist, his other came to stroke tenderly at her cheek, "Especially if it came to you,"
She glowered playfully, "... To eat me or fuck me?"
He took a moment to think, smirking delightedly as he began to tickle her, "Both!"
Eva whined and squirmed, giggling between breathless protests. Every grab she made for his hands was unsuccessful as they darted under the blanket at a furious speed, torturing every spot he knew made her weak and giddy. Her hysteria was heightened when he swooped down to her neck, nibbling and biting along the sensitive skin. The warring sensations put her brain into overdrive, pleading for mercy and promising surrender.
"Okay! Okay, okay, okay! I give! Stop it!" he finally let her breathe, smoothing his hands over her belly and ribs to ward off the previous sensations. Remington couldn't wipe the smile off of his face, Eva's fluttering eyes and bashful giggle just made her completely irresistible.
He kissed her cheek this time, the tip of his nose nuzzling her sweetly, "You give? What are you giving in to?"
"Anything that doesn't involve me scissor kicking you in the neck," she replied.
She flinched when he reached for her again, but he soothed his hand over her thigh, "I'll be nice," he drew her legs over his lap and pulled her close, "I'm sorry," he simpered.
She popped a brow, "Mhm," she brushed the blonde hair from his eyes, "You're a really hot vampire,"
"And you're a gorgeous happy meal," he laughed when she rolled her eyes.
Eva sat up and rested her cheek on her hand while she watched Remington undress; shameless she was. She couldn't help it, she adored every part of his body— from his shiny ringlets to his broad chest to his lean thighs and she worshipped every part of his body on a regular basis. She felt the tips of her ears heat up and her dilated pupils couldn’t be torn away from his, even if the cat came scratching at the door. She slid forward in the bath, gasping and laughing as water sloshed over the edge of the tub as Remington climbed in.
“Hey!” she laughed.
“It’s not the first time we’ve made a mess,” he giggled merrily.
“…I mean, yeah fair. I’ll give you that,"
Remington ghosted his hand over the layer of bubbles, and beneath them he pulled Eva’s legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Remington she found him suddenly hard between her legs.
She didn't acknowledge it, instead dunking her sponge into the water and suds and rubbing it over his chest. Remington, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Eva’s back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.
“We haven’t had a bath together in a while,” he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.
“Well,” Eva said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him down, “To be fair we've been a little busy, lately,”
Remington reached forward and pulled Eva up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.
“Maybe we'll get to do this more once I take you on tour,” he murmured, and then Eva was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and scrubbed down his shoulders. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.
“You know, you won’t have to go to such extreme measures for us to have a bath together,” she said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down his back, "You just need to ask nicely,"
Remington shuddered, moving to bury his face in her neck, "That feels good, babe," he groaned.
Eva bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Remington’s shoulder and carefully scrubbing down his spine and waist. His hands stayed glued to her skin, his forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge lower into the curves of his hips around his thighs. She switched hands and did the other side of his back, pretending not to notice Remington's cock twitching beneath her as she scrubbed him down.
He groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Eva shuddered, dong her best to concentrate and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off. Hot water cascaded over his hair and at the sides of his face, the wet patterns shimmering beautifully in the dim bathroom light.
"You feel okay?" she crooned.
"Oh, I'm just perfect," he replied, starting to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his back and shoulders.
His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge down his chest and over the nipple, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.
Eva dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Remington kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when they were tipsy. The bottle of wine had been finished a little while ago and was a distant memory for them both, it made everything more fun when they were both handsy-drunk.
Eva drank the taste of wine off Remington's lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.
It should be so familiar by now. Nearly ten months together and one might think this wouldn’t surprise Eva anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of having Remington inside her was almost too much to bear. Eva cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.
“Fuuuck Eva, fuck,” he groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Eva took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace, “God, you could kill a guy, fucking like this,”
He sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as he closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Eva moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Remington’s tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.
Remington saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Remington was not far behind, and Eva reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.
When they had stopped moving, collapsing against each other in a heap of . Eventually, Remington yawned and Eva kissed his head before whispering “Let’s go to bed.”
“I’ll just sleep here,” Remington mumbled.
“You can’t sleep in the bathtub,” she giggled.
“Sure I can,” he closed his eyes, affirming his point, “I’m doing it right now,”
She whined when he buried his face in her neck. He smelled of wine and citrusy bath oil, his skin warm and soft to the touch. Her fingers slid up and down his soap-slick torso, reveling in the kisses he was laying across her neck.
"You sure you're so sleepy?" she whimpered, squirming eagerly in his lap.
"I didn't say I wasn't done with you, yet," he replied, his fingers sliding beneath the water and finding place between her legs. Her eyes slipped shut, her body shuddered and twisted, barely able to contain herself as his fingers slid through her lips and played with her clit. Tingles fluttered across her body, every sensation elevated in pair with her first orgasm.
"Rem," she whined, grabbing his hand and still him.
He crooked an eyebrow, "You want me to stop, sweet girl?"
"Nooo," she shook her head, pouting at him, "I want something else,"
"Do you, now?" his voice came down in a gravelly whisper, his coy smirk seemingly mocking her desire, "And would does the lady desire?"
She blushed, her teeth catching her lip between them. It was almost endearing to Remington; she was so bold one minute, then bashful the next. It was so easy to tease her in this mood.
"Come on, Eva," he moaned softly.
She averted her gaze, absentmindedly stroking across his chest and just grazing the side of his nipple. She leaned down to his ear, whispering shyly, "I want you to eat me,"
His cock twitched beneath her thigh. He feigned a groan, letting his head fall back against the tub rim, glaring at her through hooded eyes.
"You mean -- get out of this bath tub, drag myself over to your bed, and fuck you with my tongue?" he spoke as if it was a hassle, though he couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off of his face. Eva nodded slowly, still biting nervously at her lip.
"Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Remington watched her hop out of the bath first, eyes lingering at the length of her towel wrapped body momentarily before he got out as well. He dried himself off quickly, sweeping Eva off of her feet and carrying her over to her bed. They were both grateful the shades had been drawn down in the open hall, should someone outside catch a glimpse of them in their birthday suits.
Eva shrieked when she was tossed onto the bed, scooting up and laughing as Remington crawled on top of her.
"You have to be quiet, Eva!" he scolded playfully, hands coming down to tickle her sides, "What would your neighbour say?"
She squealed, trying to choke back her giggles while she squirmed beneath him. It was no use, she was trapped, naked and vulnerable. He cackled above her, teasing her for her meagre escape attempts.
"I don't give a fuck!" she cried out between breathless gasps and giggles, trying and failing to catch his hands.
Remington relented soon after, and without giving her much time to catch her breath, he kissed her frantically. Eva's hands came up to his hair, twisting and tangling in the damp locks.
A whimper escaped Remington’s mouth and he pulled back, leaving Eva panting underneath him. He stared at her, eyes darkening with irrevocable lust.
"So pretty," his nose brushed against her cheek, then shifting down to mouth at her breast. The other breast he stroked with his hand, twisting her nipple between his fingers. He licked into her mouth, the kiss turning dirty, and he slotted himself between her legs, hips pressing up against hers. She moaned when he began to harden against her; the fingers in his hair tightened and then tugged.
It took a minute for her to register him situating himself between her thighs, his mouth dangerously close to her heat. He placed kisses against her hip bones before eagerly burying his mouth between her folds, moaning as he finally tasted her on his tongue.
Eva's head fell back, her hand finding Remington's hair again to keep him pressed against her. She didn’t have to guide him, he’d spent hours down there, learning all the right ways to make her moan and the quickest ways to make her come. He knew what he was doing, and Eva was almost positive that this was going to be one of those times when he was going to see how fast he could make her come. But clearly Remington had other ideas.
He'd pulled back just when she had a nice rhythm going, and Eva groaned in disappointment. Sometimes she loved it being drawn out, but when she was as eager and needy as she was now, she wasn't in the mood to wait. But Remington was in charge, and given the glimmer in his eyes, he didn't appear to be in a generous mood tonight.
"Remi, please," she whined, pawing at his shoulder to coax him along.
"It's okay, baby. I'll make you feel real good," he promised, dropping more kissed on her thigh, "But I'm gonna' take my time over here,"
He buried himself between her legs again, dragging his tongue slowly up the length of her folds, just barely catching her clit, and it was all she could do not to yank on his hair.
Remington took his time just as he promised, lazily licking at her folds, avoiding her clit all together, and Eva took several deep breaths as she tried to relax, just enjoy in the intimacy. She revelled in how he treated her, softly and gently, she wanted to memorize and write it down so she could keep the feeling while she was away.
It was at some point, perhaps between her constant wriggling and heavy panting that Remington decided to take pity on her. Without warning, his lips closed around her clit, applying suction and it was enough to have Eva's hips bucking against his mouth.
"Fuck -- please, I need more!" she huffed, glancing down at him. He watched her, eyes dark, and fuck, she could never get tired of seeing him down there. She felt herself clench in and out, she needed something to relieve her itch.
Remington granted her respite, sliding a finger inside of her with ease, "You taste so good, Eva," he mumbled sweetly against her skin, and he sped up his tongue whilst he slipped in a second finger. His other hand meanwhile slipped up her torso, rubbing his thumb against her perky nipple.
She yelped, swearing she would’ve come right then and there, but Remington pulled away. He knew all her tells by now, and she loved him for it. Even if she hated him so much right now, his fingers slid out of her and his lips moved to press gentle kisses against her thighs.
He loved quietly, adjusting himself between his own legs as he watched her chest heave. Her head was thrown back, eyes staring up at the ceiling whilst she collected herself. He could fuck her right now, take her hard and fast if he wanted to; lord knew his dick was screaming for it. But he loved teasing her, he wanted to draw this out as long as he could.
After all, he wouldn't get to do this for five days.
Eva settled down, keeping her eyes averted to the ceiling. She didn't want to look at that shit-eating smirk on Remington's face, both in love with and annoyed at how smug he could be. So she kept her focus above, slowing her heavy breath. After all, it wouldn't be long before it would be taken from her again.
And sure enough, not a second later two fingers slid inside of her and lips pressed to her clit. Her back arched, hands flying down to Remington’s head, and she let out a long whine, pleasure shooting throughout her entire body. He thrusted his fingers hard and fast, lips suctioning around her clit, sucking hard enough that she sobbed with pleasure.
“Please, please, please, please, please,” she breathed out, eyes screwing tight and body tensing. It didn’t take Remington long to get her to that edge, but once again, as soon as Eva was close, the pleasure was painfully taken away.
She groaned, frustrated as she threw her hands into the mattress. Tears were on the cusp of springing behind her eyes; she wanted him so badly and she wanted to come now. She was hypocritical, of course she knew because she loved to tease and play just as much.
His warm body pressed against her, soft lips coming down on her cheek, her chin, her jaw, and then up to nibble on her earlobe, "You’re so good, baby, so good. So proud of you. Do you feel okay?"
She nodded slowly, bringing her hand up and brushing his hair from his eyes, "You sure?"
Even with all of this frustration pent up inside of her, despite her need to have him fuck her numb, these check ins were just as important. She never had a partner do this with her before, she always felt safe so safe like this.
"I'm okay," she assured quietly. That was all the permission he needed. A startled gasp left her lips as Remington pinched a nipple between his fingers, and then he slid down and put his fingers and lips on her core once more. She wanted to watch him, watch his shoulders rise and fall, his dark eyes flutter and bliss out, but she didn't. Instead, Eva kept her hands in his hair, hanging on for dear life as Remington worked her back up. He was slower than he was before, but it was still enough, and fuck, her head was spinning.
Remington groaned and his tongue slipped around his fingers, licking up everything that she had to offer. She whined, bucking her hips as she felt her orgasm approach again. His fingers moved at a wild speed, stroking at the spongy walls while his tongue began to beat down and suck on her clit. Eva's back came off the bed, her eyes scrunched tight.
It was all entirely too much. The dirty sounds of wet slurping mixed with the squelching of his dexterous fingers only made Eva hotter as she lost herself to the sensations. Her orgasm was building, her legs shaking and tense as she chased her release. She reached out and grabbed wildly, creasing the damp bedsheets by her side, tangling Remington's hair, “Rem… Remi -- I’m so close…I’m so close…” she whimpered, voice wavering more and more as she was teetering on the edge.
“Cum for me” he ordered, lips detaching as his fingers pressed hard and deep against that spot inside. His heavy whisper did her in, it pushed her teetering control over the edge as she exploded, her body beyond her control as she rode out the mind shattering orgasm he had so effortlessly afforded her in the end.
By the time she finally stopped twitching, her body spent and aching in just the right places, Remington’s face popped up from between her legs, rubbing his wrist as he met her eyes with a smirk.
"Good girl," he kissed her temple and rested his hand on her heaving chest. Much to his surprise, she gave a breathless giggle, bringing up her hands to cover her face, "What's so funny?" he grinned.
"I was just remembering how unenthusiastic you were to get out of the bath tub," she joked, "Are you glad you did?"
"Sooo glad; and I was just joking anyway," he smirked, nuzzling her nose against hers, "How are you feeling?"
"Like jelly in the best way," she sighed, "What about you?"
"What about me?" he popped an eyebrow.
She smiled coyly, sitting up on one elbow as she reached down between his legs, "This," she began to stroke him, setting a steady rhythm and squeezing at his tip. Remington's jaw clenched, and he exhaled tightly through his nose. His forehead knocked against hers.
"Can you take another one?" he whispered hoarsely, "I wanna be inside you,"
"Yeah," she linked her hand with his, practically melting under him when he stole a kiss. His demeanour had changed now, he was still out for pure satisfaction but his dominate mood had diminished. He'd become softer, laying her back down and covering her body with his.
Her breath caught in her throat as he eased into her. She was already so wet she took him so easily, squeezing around him, calming her breathing as she adjusted.
Remington praised her for taking him so well, whispering sweetly and biting down on her ear, “Doing so good for me, Eva. You're doing so well,"
Her nails scratched down his back, moaning as he slowly rocked his hips, pushing all the way into her. His breathing grew heavier as Eva wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He kissed her passionately as his high built further and further. She was like velvet around him, every part of her completely soft. She was addicting and sweet, and Remington was enamoured by how perfect Eva was for him.
"Mhmm, Rem I'm --"
"I know, I'm close too," he grunted, bringing his hand down against her clit, "Let go, Eva, c'mon --"
His warm breath against her skin sent a shiver up her spine, and her back arched up as she came. Her breathing became uneven as her nerves sparkled with electricity. The sight of her coming undone beneath him had Remington spilling over the edge with a deep moan that echoed through the bedroom.
It took Eva a couple moments before she settled back into reality. She turned onto her front, relishing in the cool crisp sheets beneath her scalding body. Remington snuggled up beside her, his limps heavy and his skin slick with sweat. He peppered kisses across Eva's back, relishing in the faint smell of her body lotion and citrusy bath oils.
"Maybe we should hop in the bath again," she suggested, her voice was teetering just barely above a whisper.
Remington smiled, a sleepy lull beginning to overtake him as he shook his head, "If I have to go back to that bath, I will fall asleep and I'm not coming out -- I mean it this time,"
"But you'll be all pruny and cold," she chuckled.
"Then I'll be the sexiest prune you've ever seen," he replied, reaching out and stroking her cheek with his thumb, "Are you okay?"
She shook her head, pouting like a little kid, "I don't want to go tomorrow," she snuggled in closer to him, "I don't want to leave this bed, ever,"
He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing more kisses to her head and cheek. His smile was endearing, faltering on the tail-end of sad, but his touches were gentle, reassuring to her.
"I know, but listen you're gonna' be home before you know it. And if all goes well, you never have to go back if you don't want to," he said.
Eva inhaled sharply, "And if things don't go well?" at this point, it was hard to tell in this situation what was best or worst case scenario.
"Then I catch the next flight out and I'll be there with you. I'm never gonna' leave you alone like that," he promised, "Take that to court,"
She chuckled, "I think the expression is 'take it to the bank', Remington,"
"Ah, who cares? You know what I mean," he grinned bashfully.
"I do," she snuggled into his chest, trying to hide her glossy eyes. The tears brimming from her eyes weren't sad; quite the opposite. Eva had never felt so secure in a relationship before, so safe; all of her vulnerabilities were on display and Remington loved them so tenderly. His respect for her was insurmountable, it meant more to her than any date or material gifts he could shower her with. All she ever wanted was to be loved so completely, and having found it now made her chest ache in the most delicious feeling.
"Hey," he nudged her gently to look at him, his sharp features dimly lit by the lamp still on in the next room. He was truly the most beautiful creature she had ever come across, "You're gonna be okay, Eva,"
Usually she never gave in to vague promises, but she knew him better by now then to question his sincerity. She linked their hands together, bringing them to sit just over her heart.
"We will be," she echoed happily.
Remington's heart swelled in his chest; five days felt long but he knew it wouldn't be long before he had Eva back here again. He kissed her softly, tender sentiment and sweet nothings echoed with just the one.
"I love you so much," his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I love you, too," they settled back into bed, sleepy, tipsy, enraptured in the other's presence as sleep began to take over. Morning would be here before they knew it, so they kept each other close, willing sleep to last all night and forever...
#palaye royale#palaye royale imagine#palaye positivity#remington palaye royale#remington leith#remington leith imagine#emerson barrett#sebastian danzig#with smut#the smuttier the better#fluffy#fever dream#tonight is the night i die#eva kuznetsov#band blog#band imagines#band imagine blog#original story#original series#original character
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Heyy whatcha been getting into lately? Alternatively, what have you been enjoying being a hater of lately?
okay first hello i love how this question is phrased hajdks very on brand for me and two uhhh oh boy a lot of stuff tbh!
so to preface. over the years i’ve had many phases where i get out of some irl person based media (usually 1d or some random tv show) and back into animated series, then the inverse happens, the cycle repeats, etc.? so i’m currently back into animated stuff as well as fully leaning into kpop everywhere instead of what i was doing before, where i was trying to limit my posting in general or limiting it to twitter under the guise of trying to seem slightly Normal™️ but now i’m fully leaning into whatever makes me happy and inspired and if that makes me annoying so be it
anyway—in terms of animated shows i’ve been watching one piece for almost a year now as for some reason i couldn’t get into it when i was younger and then was deterred by the series length, but i’m really enjoying it! i’m about to start the long ring long island arc if that means anything to anyone lol. i’ve also been watching and loooving dungeon meshi, and i’m currently reading it as well! i tried reading it a few years ago and stopped a few chapters in (idr why) but now i’m hooked and am struggling to pace myself…. i might try and do some fanart soon 👀
with kpop mmmm i’ve actually been a casual fan since like 2010 (listened to some 2008-2009 but it was mostly early shinee and random kpop compilations on youtube lmao) but have gotten in and out of it several times? now though i’ve been pretty Involved consistently since 2019/2020, although the groups i follow the closest are ateez, oneus and nct (127)!
i saw oneus in seattle last month after missing them twice and had such a good time (i still haven’t finished sorting my pictures though and haven’t posted like. any oops) and i am tryyyying (like. praying on my hands and knees lighting candles talking to the moon levels level trying) to get my hands on VIP1 tickets for ateez in tacoma and tickets go live next week so wish me luck as i will definitely need it with how pricey it’s likely to be… but also i will proudly commit heinous deplorable acts for ateez barricade sooo either way i’m determined to get my way? aka: i want and need my own y/n moment ahfksksn
also to clarify i’m not a shipper or whatever when it comes to kpop! i may enjoy the odd fic or will cringe read things with my friends but it’s nothing like HL for me; it’s a very different dynamic overall and i don’t get those kinda vibes in a serious way from any groups i follow? although with ateez… i can kinda see why they attract some of those kinds of fans i’m ngl
and on the side, i’ve actually been working on original content again! the one group of ocs i tend to pick up and put down has been temporarily sidelined for a pair i dumped a few years back but am currently reworking and actually have a story for now! idk if i’ll do anything proper with said story as comics are exhausting so rn i’m mostly word-vomming into docs and trying to nail down my character designs. when i’ve got things worth sharing though i do plan to share here as well, if anyone would be interested 👉👈
alternately when it comes to my haterism… i still greatly dislike and am exhausted with miss swiftie for numerous reasons and my god my art twitter is swathed in h*zbin h*tel content?? like actually plagued?? otherwise though there are just things i wish i saw less because i’m simply just not interested right now (aka 1d stuff) or in general and don’t want to start disliking those things because i’m seeing them too much
ok def rambled more than i meant to oopsie doopsie but yeah uhh that’s kinda it! anon i hope you are well and enjoying yourself in whatever you are doing rn 💕 and feel free to share if you feel so inclined to!
#ooh been finally watching killing eve (like for real not just sitting in the room while it’s on) and i’m addicted#didn’t list it bc i’m just watching but god i need… i need developments…#haven’t written for a hot minute and honestly dk when i’ll have the desire insp too sorry :(#especially bc all the stuff i need to finish is for something i’m not much into these days i don’t want to force myself bc then the fics#will majorly suck and if you were waiting for an update you will wish you weren’t lmao#i will try though! i aim to finish one day soon!!#alex talks
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The Worst of Us
Chapter 1
Link to wattpad^^^
My heart hammered in my ribcage as my shaky hands twisted the handle on the door leading to my dad’s office. The familiar feeling of dread consumed me with every step I took towards his desk. Rain pattered against the floor to ceiling windows as clouds coated the entirety of Seattle. The view from the 45th floor of Fourth and Madison was breathtaking, even on a gloomy day, but it’s a shame the prick occupying the office doesn’t appreciate it. He doesn’t even acknowledge me as I sit in one of the green cushioned seats across his mahogany desk. The article about Owen is the only thing racing through my head as I mindlessly pick and bite at my nails. After what felt like a decade, he clears his throat and addresses me with his grating voice, “Have you spoken to your husband?” I don’t miss the way the last word reluctantly leaves his lips. I shake my head, bringing my hands down just enough so he can’t see me picking at them behind his unnecessarily large desk. I hated his desk, we weren’t even that big of a company for him to be blowing all his money onto a fancy desk that, to this day, has never seated any important clients. The fancy furniture, like the desk along with the expensive paintings he slapped on the walls, did nothing to hide the inflated ego packaged into this small man. “Did he tell you I fired him?” Resting my hands on each armrest, I lean back, in an attempt to steady my thundering heart, and ask,
“Did you fire him or was it actually Joel?” His eyes glared at me over the top of his monitor and paused before rolling his eyes.
“M&W have no say in who I hire or fire and Joel certainly isn’t my fucking boss.” He spits through gritted teeth.
“What do you want me to do about it? Cause I clearly don’t control who my husband fucks and who he doesn’t.”
“Abby, this isn’t about you.” He glances at me once more with the same look he gave me when he told me- no he ordered me to go off to boarding school, so I could learn “how the real world works” and outgrow my apparently ‘naive’ outlook on life. I was eleven. “If it was about you, I’d be firing you instead.” I know he wishes it were true. I almost let a laugh slip through as I imagined how my father would be if he had the means to fire me and rid me from his family. Funnily enough, I was the only real family he had but he still kept Yara, his step-daughter, and his current wife, Thea, closer to his stone cold heart than he ever kept me. In fact, I don’t even think he sees me as family, only an employee he was unfortunately obligated to keep around. The bastard was always looking for something to blame on me, so he could use it as an excuse for his lifelong disdain towards me. If it wasn’t for public opinion and the pressure of keeping up a pristine reputation within the media, I am certain my father would have had me killed. Or worse, he would kill me off, make it look like an accident and then play the role of grieving father so well it would put any Oscar winner to shame. No matter what, he always came out on top. The phone starts to ring and my dad gestures for me to leave while holding up three fingers to indicate how many hours he wants me back in. As I make my way out of his office, I offer a polite smile to Sarina, my dad’s assistant, but all she does is awkwardly avoid my eyes and shift her focus to her screen in return. Weird. Every little thing about today is driving me further into my anxiety-filled cave. Instead of heading to the elevator to go back to my office, I head right at the end of the hall into the toilets. The hinge of the door creaks shut behind me as I grab the sink with a shaky grip and try to control my breathing. In and out, it’s easy, in and out slowly. The very idea of dealing with Owen at home, especially after he had been fired so publicly, makes my insides twist into a steel knot. White noise echoes all around me as the floor beneath me starts swaying and I tighten my grip on the sink in an attempt to steady myself. In and out Abby, in and out. I can’t do it. Tears burn a trail down my cheeks as I let out short, irregular bursts of breath to try and relieve the crushing weight of my own heart in my chest.
A hand on the back of my shoulder snapped me back to reality and, as if on autopilot, I twisted my body and grabbed the stranger by their jacket and shoved them as hard as I could into the wall adjacent to the sink.
“Woah easy, I’m just trying to help.” I use one hand to wipe my eyes and keep the jacket balled up into my fist in the other. My gaze wanders up and finds a wide eyed girl staring back with a panicked expression. Shit. Nobody was supposed to see me like this, especially not someone from my dad’s floor. “Do you wanna, you know?” She hesitantly lets out an awkward chuckle and looks down at my iron grip still on her jacket. I instantly step back and apologise but she waves me off and smoothens her jacket out. Giving a lookover in the mirror she continues, in a feeble attempt to break the awkward silence, “You didn’t do much damage, I think I still look presentable enough for a meeting with the big, bad CEO.” Without even thinking I blurt out,
“You have a meeting with my dad?” She stills and narrows her eyes, her demeanour shifting from playful to serious instantly. Almost the same expression Sarina had earlier.
“Are you Abby?” I nod and she mutters out a barely audible “Fuck” and she looks to the floor for a second then at me with an apologetic frown. “I’m here to see Jerry about Owen but I think I better tell you first seeing as you’re his wife.”
“I already know about the article.” I reply with a roll of my eyes. What is with everyone needing to avoid me or treat me like I’m made of glass because of something my husband did? Yes, I know he slept with practically every assistant from every department and now he had been fired because directors shouldn’t be doing fucked up shit like using their position to screw around at work. Honestly, Owen had it coming. Owen had a lot of things coming. I’m sick to death of pretending to be the happy wife so the rest of the world could relish in the happy family facade my father had so carefully crafted. A puzzled look flashes across the stranger’s face but disappears quickly as she takes a step towards me, “Abby this isn’t just about the article, the police found Owen’s body at his apartment a few hours ago. They think it was suicide, I’m sorry.” The rest of her words faded out and the white noise began echoing all around me but this time my heart was thundering in my chest, almost bursting out of my chest. My insides churn in anguish as I rip through the stalls and release bile, and the rest of my dread, into the toilet. Everything has gone numb. I can’t feel anything except pressure in my skull. My mind was somehow empty but ready to explode out of my skull. Her hand returns to my back, trying to be soothing but the touch burns into me and I jerk away and I hear her footsteps become fainter and fainter until she leaves me alone in the room. Thank God she knows how to take a hint. I need to be alone. I need to think. Actually, what I really need is my medication. Guilt encases me as I rip out a few pills from the emergency packet in my blazer pocket and swallow them dry. I can’t even calm myself down without the help of a chemical, it's pathetic. My therapist says I shouldn’t beat myself up over needing a little extra help. I, on the other hand, think my brain is an asshole for not being on my side, but I guess if my own brain doesn’t side with me then maybe it is actually my own doing? I don’t fucking know. I don’t know anything. As I steady back into some form of chemically induced normality, the realisation creeps through- Owen is dead. I begged myself to feel some form of grief but for some fucked up reason, relief flooded through me bringing me a level of serenity even my pills coudn’t give me.
“So where are we at for this charity gala?” Joel asks, fixing himself a drink from the cart in his office. We still have an hour before five o’clock but Joel looks like he needs it so I don’t question him.
“We got catering and music sorted and I’m still working on the venue.” Stress lines form on his forehead and he stops pouring for a second before I reassure him we would get the venue. The gala was in two weeks time and would serve as a celebration of M&W’s newest acquisition: Anderson and Moore. Although in light of Owen’s misconduct, I wasn’t sure if a gala would be setting the right tone but Joel assured me that a gala would be a perfect spotlight instead of the article about Owen. I guess he was right. I know Joel was regretting the decision of buying Jerry’s firm but he was a man of his word and he saw the deal through even after the initial accusations against Owen. Grabbing my laptop so I could show Joel some potential venues, I moved to sit on the sofa next to him. Just as I place the laptop on the coffee table, Joel’s phone rings. I go to look at his desk but quickly realise it's his personal phone on the table in front of us. The caller ID reads ‘Tommy’. That’s weird. Tommy never calls Joel. Like ever and especially not during official working hours. Joel answers and immediately sets his drink down. His frown lines look more prominent than before and the look on his face stirs unease in my stomach. A minute or so passes by and Joel sets his phone down, takes a swig of his drink and says, “Police found Owen’s body this morning.”
“Was it us?” he shakes his head, “Tommy said it wasn’t any of our guys but he’s not sure cause it looks like a suicide.”
“Looks like it or is actually suicide?” I ask and he mumbles that he isn’t sure through gritted teeth. “Shall I call Dina or Jesse? I can ask them to-”
“No it’s okay kiddo,” he stands up and grabs his coat which was sprawled on one of the sofas, “you just focus on this gala. Choose whatever venue you want, I trust you as long it ain’t the space needle.” He smiles at me and I let out a small chuckle as I remember the conversation we had a few months ago about a venue for his birthday party, “Not everyone wants to be looking so far down after eating cake, Ellie.” He said trying to conceal the fact he was actually just scared of heights. Joel was one of those bulky looking guys, with salt and pepper hair, a scruffy beard, which definitely needed trimming at this point, but even though he had a rough exterior, he was a soothing anchor in my life. He’d never openly admit he cared but he didn’t ever need to, I always knew. All those times he would fool around with his gravelly Texan accent to impersonate the different characters from my story books to help me be less afraid of the dark. Joel Miller was the person I knew I could call in the middle of the night and he would drop everything to be there and he would do it countless times. In fact he had done so more times than I could count throughout college. He was my person and I’d be forever indebted to him but he was obviously the kind of man to never expect anything back except for respect and honesty.
A few hours pass and I settle on the aquarium as the venue, emailing and making the necessary calls needed to finish booking. Finally, I fix myself a drink from the cart and wander past the sofas and up to the tall glass windows. When Joel wanted a headquarters in Seattle, I always knew he’d choose the Columbia Center. With 76 floors, it was the tallest building in the city and it was right in the centre so it was Joel’s way of saying “We’re the biggest corporate law firm here and don’t you fucking forget it”. Joel wasn’t flashy but he wanted the headquarters to not only serve as a working space, but also as a reminder to himself that he built this company and deserved all 76 floors of this giant building, as well as a way to make a statement to the rest of the corporate world here in Seattle.
I sipped my drink slowly and glanced at the glimmering array of city lights underneath the full moon. The highways weren’t that busy seeing as rush hour was over but the city was still bustling. The people of Seattle weren’t finished for the day and neither was I, but I desperately needed a break. The acquisition as well as this new Owen mess had me on the verge of forming my own permanent frown lines. If I can sort out most of the gala stuff today it’ll be one less thing to stress about so I finish my drink and resume my hunt for the perfect fundraiser, this time heading to my own office to work.
Around 9pm I head to Joel’s office once more and drop off a few files but as I approach the door, I hear two voices, one is Joel’s, bickering. I only make out a few words to do with Owen and his suicide and then my name popped up but it wasn’t Joel talking about me, it was the other person. I knock and slowly creep through, nodding at Joel before looking just behind him to come face to face with the one person I vowed I’d kill if I ever saw them again. Rage flushed through my veins and I did nothing to hide the scowl and all she gave me in return was that stupid cocky smirk. That just about did it and I charged forward, ignoring Joel’s orders to stop and, with full force, connected my fist with her cheek.
#fanfic#ellie williams#ellie tlou#abby anderson#enemies to lovers#modern au#ellie x reader#wlw#mdni#eventual smut
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A poem by Tony Harrison
A Cold Coming
I saw the charred Iraqi lean towards me from bomb-blasted screen,
his windscreen wiper like a pen ready to write down thoughts for men, his windscreen wiper like a quill he's reaching for to make his will.
I saw the charred Iraqi lean like someone made of Plasticine
as though he'd stopped to ask the way and this is what I heard him say:
"Don't be afraid I've picked on you for this exclusive interview.
Isn't it your sort of poet's task to find words for this frightening mask?
If that gadget that you've got records words from such scorched vocal cords,
press RECORD before some dog devours me mid-monologue."
So I held the shaking microphone closer to the crumbling bone:
"I read the news of three wise men who left their sperm in nitrogen,
three foes of ours, three wise Marines with sample flasks and magazines,
three wise soldiers from Seattle who banked their sperm before the battle.
Did No 1 say: God be thanked I've got my precious semen banked.
And No 2: O praise the Lord my last best shot is safely stored.
And No 3: Praise be to God I left my wife my frozen wad?
So if their fate was to be gassed at least they thought their name would last,
and though cold corpses in Kuwait they could by proxy procreate.
Excuse a skull half roast, half bone for using such a scornful tone.
It may seem out of all proportion but I wish I'd taken their precaution.
They seemed the masters of their fate with wisely jarred ejaculate.
Was it a propaganda coup to make us think they'd cracked death too,
disinformation to defeat us with no post-mortem millilitres?
Symbolic billions in reserve made me, for one, lose heart and nerve.
On Saddam's pay we can't afford to go and get our semen stored.
Sad to say that such high tech's uncommon here. We're stuck with sex.
If you can conjure up and stretch your imagination (and not retch)
the image of me beside my wife closely clasped creating life . . ."
(I let the unfleshed skull unfold a story I'd been already told,
and idly tried to calculate the content of ejaculate:
the sperm in one ejaculation equals the whole Iraqi nation
times, roughly, let's say, 12.5 though .5's not now alive.
Let's say the sperms were an amount so many times the body count,
2,500 times at least (but let's wait till the toll's released!).
Whichever way Death seems outflanked by one tube of cold bloblings banked.
Poor bloblings, maybe you've been blessed with, of all fates possible, the best
according to Sophocles ie "the best of fates is not to be"
a philosophy that's maybe bleak for any but an ancient Greek
but difficult these days to escape when spoken to by such a shape.
When you see men brought to such states who wouldn't want that "best of fates"
or in the world of Cruise and Scud not go kryonic if he could,
spared the normal human doom of having made it through the womb?)
He heard my thoughts and stopped the spool: "I never thought life futile, fool!
Though all Hell began to drop I never wanted life to stop.
I was filled with such a yearning to stay in life as I was burning,
such a longing to be beside my wife in bed before I died,
and, most, to have engendered there a child untouched by war's despair.
So press RECORD! I want to reach the warring nations with my speech.
Don't look away! I know it's hard to keep regarding one so charred,
so disfigured by unfriendly fire and think it once burned with desire.
Though fire has flayed off half my features they once were like my fellow creatures',
till some screen-gazing crop-haired boy from Iowa or Illinois,
equipped by ingenious technophile put paid to my paternal smile
and made the face you see today an armature half-patched with clay,
an icon framed, a looking glass for devotees of 'kicking ass',
a mirror that returns the gaze of victors on their victory days
and in the end stares out the watcher who ducks behind his headline: GOTCHA!
or behind the flag-bedecked page 1 of the true to bold-type-setting SUN!
I doubt victorious Greeks let Hector join their feast as spoiling spectre,
and who'd want to sour the children's joy in Iowa or Illinois
Or ageing mothers overjoyed to find their babies weren't destroyed?
But cabs beflagged with SUN front pages don't help peace in future ages.
Stars and Stripes in sticky paws may sow the seeds for future wars.
Each Union Jack the kids now wave may lead them later to the grave.
But praise the Lord and raise the banner (excuse a skull's sarcastic manner!)
Desert Rat and Desert Stormer without the scars and (maybe) trauma,
the semen-bankers are all back to sire their children in their sack.
With seed sown straight from the sower dump second-hand spermatozoa!
Lie that you saw me and I smiled to see the soldier hug his child.
Lie and pretend that I excuse my bombing by B52s,
pretend I pardon and forgive that they still do and I don't live,
pretend they have the burnt man's blessing and then, maybe, I'm spared confessing
that only fire burnt out the shame of things I'd done in Saddam's name,
the deaths, the torture and the plunder the black clouds all of us are under.
Say that I'm smiling and excuse the Scuds we launched against the Jews.
Pretend I've got the imagination to see the world beyond one nation.
That's your job, poet, to pretend I want my foe to be my friend.
It's easier to find such words for this dumb mask like baked dogturds.
So lie and say the charred man smiled to see the soldier hug his child.
This gaping rictus once made glad a few old hearts back in Baghdad,
hearts growing older by the minute as each truck comes without me in it.
I've met you though, and had my say which you've got taped. Now go away."
I gazed at him and he gazed back staring right through me to Iraq.
Facing the way the charred man faced I saw the frozen phial of waste,
a test-tube frozen in the dark, crib and Kaaba, sacred Ark,
a pilgrimage of Cross and Crescent the chilled suspension of the Present.
Rainbows seven shades of black curved from Kuwait back to Iraq,
and instead of gold the frozen crock's crammed with Mankind on the rocks,
the congealed genie who won't thaw until the World renounces War,
cold spunk meticulously jarred never to be charrer or the charred,
a bottled Bethlehem of this come- curdling Cruise/Scud-cursed millennium.
I went. I pressed REWIND and PLAY and I heard the charred man say:
Tony Harrison
Listen to Tony Harrison introduce and read his poem.
The Guardian ran this specially commissioned poem by Tony Harrison in 1991
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✰ ◞ COSMOS ROOM.
when you wish upon a star . . . ( solo ).
nina wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see upon first stepping foot into the room. she knew it’s purpose, had been momentarily briefed prior to making the trip there alongside one of the many production crew members she was sure she’d be seeing quite a lot in the near future. the trek there had been a quiet one, a journey through halls she’d come to know so well throughout her time as a trainee— the final destination being not simply a room, but a potential career defining moment.
nina hadn’t taken the chance to try her hand at the previous season of future dreams, and for that, she still curses herself ( she’d been happy for nabis victory, but there was no denying the envy she’d felt once the younger girls concept and song had been revealed— nina had always been a sucker for uk garage ).
she wouldn’t let an opportunity like that slip through her fingers again.
it’s a bit difficult to see at first, the dim lighting playing tricks on her eyes thanks to just how bright the hallway outside had been, but it only takes a moment for her eyesight to adjust. nina takes a moment to look around the room as she makes her way towards her final destination— a plain table situated before a teleprompter, the spot in which she’s meant to stand being marked with an obvious x. truly, the room is cute, darkness being illuminated by all the soft pinks, purples, yellows, and blues. nina normally didn’t care for themes like space, but she could accept this. upon finally reaching the table, the materials laying on top of it cause nina to pause in question. were they not going to be made to perform anything for this?
it’s only natural to do just that in a situation like this, but then she remembers— what need would there be to showcase skills now when staff was already well aware of what they were all capable of thanks to the time they’d now spent in this debut camp? briefly, nina wonders if the other female trainees not taking part in this bootcamp would have to perform anything.
well, one less thing she needed to worry about.
her brief train of thought quickly dissipates the moment nina sees movement on the teleprompter before her, a set of instructions clear to follow— introduce yourself. she stands tall, shoulders relaxed as an easy grin grows on her lips. “hello. my name is nina seo and i just turned twenty-one this past october,” she begins, giving a small bow before continuing. “i was born and raised in seattle, washington but moved to seoul at the age of seventeen.”
as the prompt changes once again, cluing nina in on what was meant to be happening, she finds herself becoming more and more intrigued as the process goes on. really, this whole theme they were going for was cute.
“two stars . . .” nina echoes as she rereads the words before her. whatever nina had been expecting to do within this room, this surely wasn’t it, but the brunette wasn’t complaining. she takes a moment to think through her options surveying the choices laid out before her. without much thought, nina picks up a yellow star to place into the positions jar ( because what else would she choose other than vocals ). she pauses once more, staring hard at the options left before her. now this? this was a little trickier. ultimately, however, nina finds herself reaching for a purple star, the folded paper landing neatly in her specialty jar.
and with that, nina finds herself done. as she exits the room, the brunette can’t help the already brewing curiosity towards what this season would bring her.
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Henry Cavill Series - Part One
Summary: You never imagined falling in love would be the scariest but easiest thing for you to do. Especially when it came to him.
Warnings: angst as usual, mentions of depression & anxiety and parental death
Words: 3.1K
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He left like you were never a reason to stay.
"Hey, just take deep breaths. You'll be fine." You encourage your brother as you help fix his tie for him.
"I'm getting married, Y/N. It's kind of hard not to be nervous right now." He runs his shaking hand through his hair.
"Listen Sawyer, Alice loves you and you love her. You two are going to spend the rest of your lives together and be happy with each other. All you need to think about today is the wonderful future you’re going to have together."
"I'll still be there for you. Whenever you need me. I wish mom and dad were here with us today." He pulls you into a tight hug.
"They would be thrilled about you marrying Alice. She is literally you but a female." His chest rumbles underneath your head.
"Mom and dad would be proud of you too. The places you are going with your career. I'm proud of you." Sawyer kisses the top of your head.
"Now you just need to find your special person and get married." He pulls away and looks down at you, laughing. You shake your head and roll your eyes.
"Hey," He tilts your chin up. "I'm just tired of seeing you alone."
"Sawyer, there's a difference between being alone and being lonely. I've chosen to be alone, not lonely."
"Just promise me that you will stop shutting people out and go out into the world and meet someone who loves you unconditionally."
"I'll see what I can do. Now, let's go and get you hitched." You both laugh and walk out of the room.
As you're standing in line with the rest of the bridesmaids you start to think about love. Your mom and dad were so in love with each other and you know they still are in another life. Your brother looks so happy with his new bride-to-be. All the friends you know have had multiple relationships, some already married with kids. It seems like everyone is finding love, except for you.
There is a reason why you stopped searching and his name is Henry Cavill.
He was a friend of you brothers. Just a couple years older than yourself. The three of you would always hang out together as kids. Mostly the two of them picking on you and you running away crying until Henry would come find you later and apologize for the both of them. Over the years, Henry became more attractive but not just to you but other girls as well. But you never saw him with a girl under his arm. He was never the one to show off to people. Even though he was the most popular and good looking guy in school, he was kind to everyone. There wasn't one person who met him that wasn't affected in some way. He completely changed your life.
You remember vividly when he and your brother were seniors and about to graduate. You were a sophomore and going through an awkward stage in life where you were trying to figure out who you wanted to be while everyone else seemed like they already knew. Your brother was in the shower while Henry and you were relaxing in the living room. Don't get it wrong, you definitely had a crush on him. Pretty much everyone did, but you knew he would never feel the same way. You asked him what he planned to do after graduating and he told you he wanted to go back and visit England. He was born there, and his family lived there until he was about five before his dad got a promotion in Seattle. He always talked about moving back to England, but you never thought he would actually do it.
The day of Sawyer and Henry's graduation was one of the worst but best days of you life. After the ceremony, you all were taking pictures, you glanced at Henry and were overcome with something you couldn't explain back then but you know now that it was love. Every time he would smile and his eyes would crinkle and his dimples would pop out, you got tingles all over your body. When he hugged you goodbye, you got shivers and blinked away tears. You were scared because you'd never felt this way about someone before. You didn't know what that feeling was. You were confused but you knew everything was okay as long as you had Henry in your life.
After the graduation dinner, everyone rode along to take Henry to the airport. You sat in the back between your brother and Henry. You just wanted to be close to Henry without it being obvious. There were a few times where you would stare for too long at him because he is the most beautiful human being in the world. He would look at you with the brightest smile. You would die every time. Everyone said their goodbyes to Henry. You being the last one. You always thought Henry saw you as his little sister because he was best friends with your brother, that's why you decided to keep the way you felt about him locked away. You remember the last words he said to you before he left.
"I'll see you soon Y/N. Don't forget me." You smiled at him through the tears.
You've never forgotten about him.
He is the reason why you've never been able to find someone because you've been in love with him this whole time. You've regretted not telling him the way you’ve felt for years now. Looking at your brother with the love of his life makes you realize how much you miss Henry. It's been five years since he left. You don't even know if he and your brother have kept contact with each other. Your brother never knew about your crush on Henry and you've never asked him if he knew anything about him now because you didn't want to seem curious. You just wish you knew what his life is like now.
You’re snapped back into reality once everyone starts cheering and clapping as your brother and his wife walk down the aisle and out the door. You make your way down the aisle with the rest of the bridal party smiling. When you’re almost out the door you look toward the back row and see the one man who has had your heart without even knowing it, except he has his arm wrapped around another girl. Your eyes meet his and you feel your whole world stop turning.
"What are you thinking about?" You look up from the glass of champagne to find Sawyer standing next to you.
"Oh nothing. Just how happy I am for you." You insist, taking the last sip
"You sure? I figured it was because of Henry." He mentions and you almost choke on your drink.
"Why would that be a problem?" You turn to face him.
"Oh, come on Y/N. Don't think I couldn't tell that you liked him in high school." You close your eyes and feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Honestly, I was waiting for him to say something to me or you, but it never happened."
"Well, he obviously didn't feel the same way since he left five years ago and never came back."
"Maybe he didn't want to get attached to you because he was leaving. Maybe it just wasn't the right time but maybe now it is." Sawyer suggests.
"No, it's definitely the wrong time because he came here with someone else."
"How about you just go talk to him. Catch up for a bit. You know you've missed him and I'm sure he feels the same." Sawyer pulls you into another hug.
"Now, go and have fun. This is my wedding!" He laughs and kisses the top of your head. You roll your eyes, giggling and turn back to the bar to order another drink.
It's been about an hour of you sitting alone at the bar. Watching everyone dancing and your brother and his wife looking so in love. You can't help but be jealous but so happy for them at the same time. You've always wanted someone to be by your side through everything. To make you happy when you’re sad and love you for who all that you are. You’re still pretty young, but you feel as if you've already missed out on a lot. Most people your age are either married and have kids or are in a relationship. You've never had a boyfriend and you know it's partially your own doing because you closed people off and never put yourself out there. When your parents died, it got worse. The only person you talked to was Sawyer. You didn't have friends at college. You mostly stayed in your dorm and never went out because you were depressed, and your anxiety worsened from shutting yourself out from the world. You were sure guys thought you were weird and awkward. The only time you would talk was if you were called on in class or you had to do group projects. You hate yourself for closing yourself off because you know you missed out on so much, but you can't take any of that back.
You finish what you think is the third glass of champagne and stand up. You look up and instantly are met with Henry's gorgeous eyes. Oh god. Shivers run through your body and your chest starts to tighten, almost like you want to cry. You've missed him so much and he looks so beautiful. He whispers something into the girl's ear he is sitting next to and gets up. He walks toward you, and you stop breathing. He stops a few feet in front of you.
"Hi Y/N." His voice is even heavier.
"Hi Henry." Your voice cracks as you clear your throat.
You both stand there staring at each other before he gets closer and wraps his arms around you. You instantly react and wrap yours around him. Oh, how you've missed this.
"God, I've missed you Y/N." He whispers. You feel the tears swell up in your eyes and you try to keep them in, but it's too late. They start falling and Henry wraps his arms tighter around you.
"I'm sorry." You choke on your words.
"No, there is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about." He strokes the back of your head and kisses your forehead. You move away to look up at him.
"Why didn't you ever come back?" You wipe the tears from your face.
"A lot has happened, and it got harder to leave. I wanted to come back so bad, but I just couldn't."
"You couldn't even call?"
"I did. I called your brother all the time. I asked about you and how you were especially after your parents." He whispers. You take a deep breath and close your eyes to stop the fresh tears wanting to escape.
"He never told me that." You turn your head and look for Sawyer, spotting him dancing with his wife.
"I told him not to." Henry admits.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I guess I thought you wouldn't care to talk to me."
"Henry, seeing you leave was one of the hardest things for me."
"I didn't know that. I'm sorry." He steps back slightly and puts his hands in his pockets.
Your eyes glance over his face, studying him like you don’t recognize the man in front of you anymore. His hair is shorter than he had it in high school. He is taller and way more buff. He’s still the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Henry takes a breath and is about to say something when he gets interrupted by his plus one..
"Henry, I think it's dying down, maybe we should head back to the hotel?" His head snaps toward her and she grabs his arm. Your eyes immediately focus on where she is touching him, feeling a crack in your heart.
"Yeah, let me just say bye to Sawyer." He tells her as she turns to look at you.
"Hi, I'm Emilee." She introduces with a smile.
"Y/N." You force a smile in return.
"How do you two know each other?"
"Sawyer is my brother."
"Oh, how nice! This was a beautiful wedding."
"It was nice meeting you Emilee." You can’t stand talking to her anymore. "Nice seeing you Henry." You smile and he leans in to give you a hug.
"Don't leave yet." He whispers. You look at him and he smiles softly. You walk away and over to your brother and Alice sitting at a table.
"Hey sis." Sawyer says. You sit down next to him and sigh.
"How did it go?" He questions you.
"Why didn't you ever tell that he asked about me?" You scold him.
"He told me not to." Sawyer defends.
"Well, if you knew that I liked him don't you think I would have liked to know he was actually asking about me?" You argue.
"Y/N, I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you."
"No, it actually hurt me even more." You end the argument before getting up and walking out of the building.
You sit on a bench that is right outside the building and close your eyes, taking deep breaths. You can feel the anxiety rising and you hate this feeling. You sit there for a few minutes focusing on your breathing when you hear someone’s footsteps before they sit down beside you. You open your eyes to find a pair of familiar blue ones.
"Where's Emilee?"
"She went back to the hotel."
"Shouldn't you be with her?"
"I wanted to stay longer."
"Sawyer told me about the job you got. I'm really happy for you. You finally figured out what you wanted to do with your life." He teases and you can't help but smile.
"Yeah, I was honestly surprised when they asked me. It's my dream to work for a magazine"
"I can't wait to see your photos all over the world." He leans back against the bench, slinging his arm behind you.
"What about you? What did you end up choosing?" You ask him, leaning yourself against the bench too.
"I actually work as a personal trainer."
"Wow, that’s cool but what happened with the whole acting thing?”
"Acting is still a passion of mine but nothing has happened yet. I met a good friend of mine in college and he introduced me to the owner of a local gym out in London. He needed extra hands, so he gave me a job and now I kind of co-run the business with him.”
“I’m happy for you, Henry.” He looks over at you and smiles.
"What about you? What are your friends like?"
"I don't really have any." You can feel his gaze on you but avoid eye contact and stare down at your lap.
"What do you mean you don't have any friends?"
"It's just me. Well, Sawyer and Alice now." You explain to him.
His eyebrows furry and he takes his bottom lip between his fingers.
"But why?" Henry pushes.
"Well after you left, I got sad and slowly all my friends in high school just didn't want to be around me anymore because I was a downer all the time. I never wanted to go out anymore. I just wanted to be home. Once I got to college, all I did was go to class and then go to my dorm. People tried to be my friend, but I would eventually push them away or they just got tired of trying. It got worse once my parents died. I was a sophomore in college and I got really depressed. I had to move back home and live with Sawyer and Alice because I just couldn't function. My life was a mess. Still is a mess. I'm not depressed anymore, but my anxiety is still here. I've been alone for so long that it just doesn't bother me anymore. I've grown to love having my time, but it does get lonely. I wish I had a friend other than my brother to talk to. Even though I don't have much to say because my life is so boring. I've been through a lot in the past five years and I just wish you were there." You mumble the last part before looking up. Your eyes connect and he moves closer wrapping you tightly in his arms.
"I hate myself for leaving you alone. When Sawyer called me and told me about you parents I instantly thought of you. How bad I wish I was there to comfort you. I'm so sorry for never contacting you, It's just, Sawyer told me that you were barely even speaking to him." You wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head on his shoulder.
"Don't hate yourself. I could have contacted you if I wanted to, but I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me. You had a new life in London and I didn't want to disturb you."
"You would never disturb me. If I'm being honest, I would stare at my phone some night hoping you could call."
"When are you going back?" You ask, moving away slightly as your arms fall from him, but he keeps his around you.
"Not sure. I'm going to see my mom and dad for a bit.”
"That's good."
"When do you move to New York?" Henry questions you.
"Two months."
"Are you nervous?"
"I'm excited but my anxiety makes me nervous. But I know I'll be okay."
His phone starts to ring and he grabs it from his pocket, sighing before answering it.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in a few. Ok. Yeah, Bye." He ends the call and stuffs it back into his pocket. He runs his hands through his hair.
"Girlfriend problems?" You ask, teasingly.
"She isn't my girlfriend." He sternly answered.
"Oh, I thought since-"
"She's just a friend. She wants more but I don't."
"How come?"
"I'm waiting for the right one." Henry glances at you before looking away. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No. I've never had one. I'm too broken and nobody wants to fix me."
"The right one will come along and heal all your wounds with their love and I hope that you will let him because you deserve everything good in this world and more."
- -
comment to be added to the taglist! Thanks for reading <3
#henry cavill imagines#henry cavill#henry cavill x you#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill angst#henry cavill x y/n#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill smut
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An Asian American journalist in Seattle claims he was fired from his local news station after being accused online of promoting "white supremacist propaganda" for covering a Proud Boys protest on his personal Twitter account.
Jonathan Choe, a journalist for more than 20 years, said ABC affiliate KOMO News fired him for live-tweeting about the march, which took place in the Washington state capital of Olympia on March 19.
In a tell-all Medium post, Choe said he recapped March 19’s protest with a photo montage that included “natural sound,” a reporting technique also known as “NAT Pkg” or “natural sound package.” This mode of storytelling includes all the elements of a regular news package except the reporter’s voice, giving viewers a more sensory experience of involvement.
Choe’s final tweet, however, later drew online accusations that he was spreading “white supremacist propaganda.” As it turned out, it had picked up parts of a controversial song.
“One of my videos picked up music blasting from a speaker strapped over the shoulder of one of the protesters. I could not make out the words and had never heard this song in my life,” Choe wrote.
“Hours later, the critics started pouncing on this final tweet, accusing me of intentionally creating ‘white supremacist propaganda.’ Several people even claimed I went out of my way to rip this music off a CD and lay it under the photos. That is untrue. I wanted to simply capture a moment in time, with authentic visuals and sounds.”
Choe said he later learned that the song is called “We’ll Have Our Home Again” and is often played at white nationalist rallies. In hindsight, he said he wished he provided more context, but his news director allegedly ordered him to “take down all my social media” related to the march before he could respond.
Choe said his boss also told him “not to speak to any outside media.” The next day, he was sacked, he said.
The veteran journalist began his post by declaring that he is “not a neo-Nazi, fascist or white supremacist.” Such accusations were “comical at best,” he said, as a “proud Asian American journalist who’s faced years of discrimination for my race and ethnicity.”
Choe also stressed his awareness about Proud Boys being labeled as an “extremist hate group” and some of its members being prosecuted for their involvement in the Capitol insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021. But this is exactly why he wanted to be an “observer” at the Proud Boys rally, he said.
“I wasn’t taking sides. I wasn’t saying anything was good or bad. In fact, none of the marchers would talk to me on the record because they ‘didn’t trust the mainstream media,’” Choe recalled. “So I just started following the march route.”
Aside from “some middle fingers and heckling from those who opposed the rally,” Choe described the day as ending “peacefully and without incident.” He then pointed out that his problem only arises “when any group or side tries to silence me for simply trying to show what’s happening.”
“I’ve been a journalist now for more than 20 years. If there was a Ku Klux Klan rally and cross burning at Seattle Center in downtown, I would be the first person there to cover the event.
“My job is to present all sides, not just the one that aligns with my values or worldview,” he added.
Despite the odds he has faced, Choe, who was recently targeted with threatening tweets from alleged Antifa members, vowed to continue to stay in the media. “I am not done serving the good people of Seattle. Stay tuned,” he tweeted on Friday.
NextShark has reached out to KOMO News for comment.
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