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iamleesi · 2 months

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THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: Bucky’s being an idiot once again and you meet someone… quite interesting? Or creepy? You decide. Also a surprise in the end simply because I can.

Warnings: Alcohol, bit of angst (?), gun, annoying lady, allusion to s3x if you squint, mention of Hydra and being watched/ followed -> 18+!!

Other: Forgive me for eventual mistakes but I wrote this in 3 days and I changed my mind about 60 times

-> Masterlist

-> Part twelve ; part fourteen

-> Devil On Your Shoulder (13)

The ticking of the living room clock was the only sound filling the space around you, each second’s click made you lose your hope about Bucky’s return. Hours had passed since Cassandra had knocked at your door and Bucky had stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean had completely disappeared as well - not that you made any efforts in contacting those two, you anger towards them was still very much present - leaving you all alone with the girl.

You hadn’t spoken much to her due to the fear of stressing her out more than she already was; instead, you opted to let her rest in your bedroom for the night, saving the questions for tomorrow.

You had searched the whole neighborhood for Bucky, checking nearby parks or public places he could be at but there was no sign of him, not even his shadow. It was as if he had vanished. In moments like these, you hated to admit how worried sick you were for his safety, knowing Hydra had their eyes on him. If he were to fall into their hands once again because you couldn’t find him, you’d never forgive yourself.

Hours later, that fear consumed your thoughts. You hadn’t eaten anything all day - the scrambled eggs Bucky had made for breakfast were given to Cassandra since she needed it more than you. But you, honestly, weren’t hungry anyway, especially not when Bucky’s phone went straight to voicemail every time you called.

Your attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you turned your head slightly around to see Cassandra coming your way. She was now dressed with some new, clean clothes you had given her, and she seemed to be feeling way better than before.

“Hey.” You tiredly said, as she sat beside you. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Couldn’t find sleep.” She made a small smile your way, resting her feet on the couch to wrap her arms around her knees. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

You looked at her and shook your head at her apologetic tone of voice. “It’s okay, it’s a sensitive topic for him. It’s… I don’t know why he doesn’t pick up the phone.”

Your nervousness intensified once you spoke, voicing your thoughts was like confirming your worries. You began to play with the golden ring on your finger trying to get your mind off of it, but unlike other times it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at you. He had specifically told you to call him once Cassie had calmed down, and you did, but he ignored you.

And, to be completely honest here, being ignored was the best case scenario your brain could think of.

Cassandra’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you want me to help search for him? I’m sure he’s not far away, and I know the city.” She offered kindly, worry evident in her tone. Her guilt over what she said was as clear as a day.

“No, no.” You waved her off gently. “You need to rest, so feel free to go to bed. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.” The last thing you wanted was to drag her into your tunnel of worries - not just for Bucky, but for the entire situation. She was still a missing girl and she needed to stay inside in order for no one to find her, so letting her out of the house was out of the equation.

Also, she was the goddamn key to solve the case and she was sitting right beside you while three out of four people working on the case were men (as if that was unfortunate enough) that couldn’t set their priorities straight. There were people that needed to be found, like Fury and Maria, others who needed to be captured - and yet, there you were, all alone.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, her brow furrowing with worry. “I don’t mind staying up with you if it’s going to help. I mean… you’re here because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

You managed to give her a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Cassie, but none of this is your fault. There’s no need for you to worry or stress over it. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” You hoped the assurance in your voice was convincing.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to help and follow your advice. Eventually, much to your relief, she nodded. “Alright, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I won’t.” You promised, knowing you’d never wake her up in any case. “Also the house is secure. No one can get in without a key, so you’ll be fine.” You reassured her, watching as she stood up, nodded at you, and headed back back towards the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, you finally let out a deep sigh and looked around the dimly lit room. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that sitting around doing nothing only worsened your mood. Especially seeing your phone screen remain dark without a single message back from Bucky added fuel to the fire.

Grabbing your coat from the armchair, your slipped it on and headed towards the door, locking it securely behind you as you stepped onto the street.

It was probably all the emotions you were feeling at the moment, but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand why the atmosphere felt different that night. It was as if the air stood still, and you sensed presences that weren’t even there.

The streets were empty so you must have had imagined it, the only sound being your footsteps on the wet crosswalk. You double checked behind you to ensure your were alone and, in fact, there was absolutely no soul around. Even the neighbor’s dog was oddly quiet since the animal seemed to be possessed at each hour of the fucking night, but the owners left the poor creature outside alone the whole time so it wasn’t really the dog’s fault.

However, feeling watched or not, you needed to have a proper walk and get your mind off of those three stupid ass men for one night. You could almost excuse Bucky’s behavior initially; seeing the hurt on his face was enough to understand what had come over him. Even if you weren’t close to him, living in the same building for so long meant you knew that being seen as a murder was a trigger for him. You didn’t want to hold him accountable for how he reacted to those accusations, it was his own way to deal with it.

What you couldn’t tolerate was that, if he was still out there somewhere, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was okay or to check how things ended with Sam and Dean. Especially after hearing how they had kept Cassie locked up for a whole day.

Lost in thought, you almost collided with a stranger who stood directly in your path, making no effort to move even as you took a few steps back.

Your already sour mood darkened further, aggravated by his presence and the small, annoying grin on his face. He appeared to be in his late forties, dressed entirely in black. The streetlight above his head flickered intermittently, unlike the others that worked perfectly.

“I need to go that way.” You said, pointing to the street behind him, as he blocked your path.

He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally stepping aside, extending a hand in the direction you were headed. “Forgive me, kid, didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice was smooth, but carried an unsettling undertone that you couldn’t ignore. You shot him a glare as you reluctantly walked past him, your eyes not leaving his for the slightest second - you didn’t like this man. He gave off weird vibes, way too familiar vibes, and you didn’t like that.

“You didn’t startle me.” You mumbled. “Maybe just don’t stand in the middle of the crosswalk.”

“I’ll make sure to follow your advice from now on.” The man answered with a sarcastic tone, giving you one last glance before turning around to walk away. “Have the sweetest night, kid.”

You stood there for a moment, watching his short figure disappear around a corner. The nickname he used left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you didn’t think much of it as you turned back around to continue your night walk.

You didn’t have a place in mind, the cold air hitting your skin was just a way to cool you off - it was a nice, relaxing feeling for you. Even with that, your mind immediately drifted back to Bucky, Sam and Dean; if you survived this, you’d fight to be paired up with women in the future missions because you had had enough. And it had barely been a week.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps and the crisp night air, which gradually started to finally calm you down. You didn’t know how long you had been walking when, at some point, you arrived near the center of the city, which was far more crowded than the area where you lived. Deciding it was about time to get back, you turned around - or almost.

“I don’t think that’s the right direction.”

A voice made you stop dead in your tacks, and you looked ahead only to see the same man from earlier, throwing something heavy into a nearby dumpster. He smacked his hands together to remove some dirt before slipping them into his pockets, walking towards you with that same small grin you had seen before.

He stopped right in front of you, and all your efforts to dissolve the anger you had built up during the day vanished in a mere instant. Great.

Why this mad had such an effect on you, you didn’t know.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider.

“I said, you were going in the wrong direction.” He repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. He pointed behind his shoulders, as he spoke again. “You need to go that way, he’s having fun over there. You don’t want him to blew the mission, do you?”

“I have dealt with crazy fuckers like you before, alright? Leave me alone.” You shoved him off, turning your back to head back home. Or, at least, that was your intention.

“I see your attitude hasn’t changed in these last ten years. I thought you’d get nicer with age, but I’m glad to know I was wrong.” He called after you, making your freeze for a second. “Has no one ever taught you that it’s best to be nice to strangers?”

You turned back around, studying his expression because he sure as hell got your attention with that. He seemed to be lucid and collected, making you reconsider in an instant your initial thoughts of him as just another street creep. After all, you had encountered way too many in your life.

“What did you just say?” You said, your voice laced with suspicion.

He took a step closer, still grinning. “Ten whole years. I must admit, I never thought you’d get paired up with the Winchesters. But they go wherever trouble is, so I had to see it coming at some point; my bad.” He raised his hands in surrender before continuing. “But as I was saying, I’m happy to see you haven’t changed. Still so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and so, so slow when it comes to understand who you can trust and who you can’t. You even got a name now, don’t you, my dear Emma?”

Your mind started to race the second you heard your name fall from his mouth with such normalcy. You were transported back to ten years ago, back to the time you were still with Hydra, to try and remember who he was. But everything was blank, you were sure you had never seen this man before; and there he was, talking to you as if you were his long-lost something.

“How do you know my name?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. You were an Avenger, sure, but due to your request your face was not allowed to be published - therefore, nobody outside of your friends or some of the people you worked with knew who you were.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, dear. I’ve been watching you for a long time, not that you could have known. It’s fascinating how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed… yet some things remained the same.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. All this… trying to solve creepy mysteries with your gang like some sort of Scooby Doo in real life is quite exciting, but I need you to solve this case quickly because I’m getting tired of you all dancing around it.”

“Do I even know you?!” You asked, as this man was making less sense each passing second.

“No, silly.” His tone was condescending. “So don’t strain your little brain.” He waved a hand in front of your face. “I never bothered to meet you personally, I had more important things to do like…” He trailer off, trying to find the words. “Nothing really, but I’ve been watching you. And let me tell you, that little stunt you pulled when you let that friend of yours escape… what was her name? You used to call her something like Naomi or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nonie.” He smirked, knowing he had your full attention. “Yes, that’s right, because she was anonymous. Brave of you, really, but also quite foolish. She stayed for you, you know? Even after you freed her; she stayed around in the woods and brought John Winchester straight to you, so that he could save you. And what did she get in the end? She was burned alive.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, confirming that the man in front of you wasn’t just some crazy idiot on the streets harassing women. He knew about Nonie, a secret you always kept for yourself (one of the many) and that meant he knew far more than what you were comfortable with. And you still had no idea of who he was or where he came from.

The pain of his revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Not that you had ever held out much hope for Nonie, considering she had been turned into a Wendigo, but you had convinced yourself to believe that perhaps, somehow, she found some form of peace. Hearing that she was dead, though, was like a knife to the heart. She had been your first and only friend, or the closest thing you had to one, for most of your life.

“What do you want from me?“

“Your loyalty.” He answered, the serious you had seen him all night.

You let out an honest chuckled at that, which only made him roll his eyes. “You want me to be loyal to you? I only just met you and, frankly, you’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

He smirked, unfazed by your sarcasm. “I don’t need to make a good impression, my dear, I just need you to understand that we can help each other. We can make a deal, right here and right now, and I’ll explain everything to you. Starting with the truth about Ella White.”

You hated to admit that you took a moment to consider his offer, truly, the second he mentioned that woman. He did seem to know a lot of things, but you didn’t know him and you didn’t trust him. “Listen, not trying to sound rude here, but get lost.” You finally said him, even if a part of you was burning to know what he was talking about. “You’ve been creepy this whole time saying that you watched me when I was younger and now you want to be buddies?” You raised a brow at his nonsense.

“Not buddies, partners. You know, work together, be a team.” He clarified. “You don’t even know how many things we can accomplish together, we’d have everyone at our feet - do you not want that? Imagine, just imagine, how it could be like to rule the living and the dead.” His green eyes were locked into you as he talked, getting close to you.

“You sound like a dictator. I hate dictators.” You answered. “And if you don’t leave me alone I’ll put a bullet right between your eyebrows.”

He laughed at what you said, and your crossed your arms under your chest quite offended. “You’re funny, girl, I’ll give you that. But if you want to kill me, I think a simple gun won’t do it. It’s not your lucky day.” He said, faking an apologetic tone.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“It’s not important.” He replied dismissively. “I’ll give you time to think about my offer, kid.” With a casual shrug, he began to walk past you.

Your eyes refused to leave his figure, and you were conflicted whether to follow him or not. Not because you wanted to accept his weird offer, but because he was clearly involved somehow and letting him go didn’t seem like the smartest choice. But you had a feeling that your paths would cross again.

“I already said no.” You called after him, raising your voice slightly.

He paused, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. “Go ask Dean Winchester why he agreed to work on this case.” He said cryptically. “And then you might change your mind, I’ll make sure to be there when you do.”

You furrowed your brows, puzzled by his words - but even what he said earlier didn’t make more sense than that. What did Dean have anything to do with this? And why was this stranger so confident that you would eventually change your mind? Sure, Dean hadn’t been exactly the most cooperative person in the last couple of days, but he was making it look as if you couldn’t trust him.

“And before I forget,” He added suddenly. “You might want to go take a look at the bar down the road, see if you can find something interesting, take it as a little help from me.” With that, he turned and walked away. You swore that he vanished as soon as you blinked, but that was impossible… wasn’t it?

Your feet moved before your brain could properly process his words, and you started to head towards the place he told you to go to. It’s true you didn’t have positive vibes regarding that man whose name you didn’t know, but so far he only said things you knew were real, more or less, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea to go see for yourself what he was referring to.

You hurried down the streets, the sounds of laughter and clicking glasses growing louder as you approached. Hesitating at the entrance, you took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, the little bell above it chiming softly. The noise went unnoticed by most of the people in there, except two men who glanced your way and left the second you entered.

The smell of alcohol and smoke was thick, but you ignored it as you scanned the room. No familiar faces met your gaze, and some doubts began to creep in. Perhaps the most logical reason was that the stranger had been toying with you all along. You shook your head, feeling foolish for trusting him even for a moment. Turning to leave, you prepared to step back into the street hoping to not meet any other idiot that was going to mess with your ideas.

Except that then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar face sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

Bucky Barnes. He was hunched over a drink, his eyes low as he watched the liquid twirl before taking a sip of it. Relief washed over you upon seeing that he was unharmed, but it was quickly replaced by that very same anger you had for the whole day. He had left you worried this whole time while he was there, drinking his problems away - and he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk because you knew it was physically impossible for him to be.

You weaved your way through the crowded bar, your eyes firm on him. With each step closer he seemed to feel your presence, as he looked up from his glass his eyes found yours in no time. His posture visibly stiffened and a flicker of surprise crossed his face as you dropped into the chair across from him, not so kindly.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered, barely glancing up.

“You left me worried sick.” You snapped, your voice low but intense in order not to have people overhear the conversation. “I called and texted thinking the worst had happened and you were here drinking? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I needed some time alone, alright?” He said dismissively, taking another sip.

“Time alone?” You scoffed. “You could have at least let me know you were okay, for fuck’s sake. Cassandra said some hurtful things while, mind you, she was scared for her life and you disappeared for hours? We have a damn case to solve, Bucky, people are counting on us.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been working. Didn’t think it mattered whether you knew or not.”

“Didn’t think it-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We’re a team, Bucky. When one of us bails, if affects everyone. We lost a day because apparently I’m paired up with people that run away when things aren’t convenient anymore.”

“How did you even find me?” He tilted his head, ignoring your outburst. “You have the worst sense of orientation I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know you knew the city.”

“I don’t, a man told me where you were.”

“A man?” He raised a brow, his skepticism evident. “You made new friends already? That’s great, honey. Socializing is good for you.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback at his nonchalance. You had just told him that a stranger had essentially been following him, and that was his reaction? His dismissive attitude left your dumbfounded to say the least.

“You’re getting on my nerves.” You said, your patience wearing thin. Not that it was great before.

“Do you know how to get back home?” He asked, not even being fazed by what you said.

“Yes.” You responded, barely masking your irritation.

“Then go.” He said, waving you off. “I’ll get back later.”

He glanced to his left, and your eyes followed his gaze. You immediately understood the reason behind his attitude, and you were not happy in the slightest about it. Dalia emerged from the bathroom, heading straight to your table.

Now that you looked down, you noticed two glasses of whiskey instead of one, and one of them had lipstick mark on it. Of course, that made sense.

“Harry.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t know your wife was going to join us tonight.” Her fake smile grated on your nerves.

“She was just about to leave, actually.” Bucky said, giving you a look that clearly said, ‘do as I say.’ “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You felt a surge of anger at his blatant disregard, clenching your jaw at the way he was acting and at the way she was smirking. “Sure.” You replied sarcastically, standing up. “After all, I wouldn’t want to ruin the night.”

Dalia’s smirk widened as she slid into your seat not even a second after you moved, not hiding the fact she was happy you would leave. “So nice of you, Jade. You know, me and your husband have a lot in common, I might steal him from you.” She chuckled at her own words.

You narrowed your eyes at Dalia’s taunting remark, her words grating on your last nerve. “Ah, good luck with that.” You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast with his mood changes.”

Bucky shot you a glare, but you ignored it. “Sweetheart.” He said, the nickname anything but sweet. “Get home safe, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be nice to him.” Dalia chimed in, leaning back on the chair. “Or not.” She added, winking at him.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to maintain your composure at her clearly flirting with your fake husband. “Have fun.” You simply muttered out, noticing how Bucky stopped meeting your gaze a while ago - instead, he was looking at his empty glass of whiskey.

“We will.” She said, waving at you with that annoying smile on her face.

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, ignoring the tension in the air behind you. As you stepped out, into the cool night air, a mixture of frustration and hurt made their way in your stomach. You didn’t know why you were feeling so pissed at her being there with him, but you imagined it was because he had been doing God knows what all day with the neighbor’s daughter when you had a fucking case to solve.

Pushing aside your emotions, you finally walked back home hoping to remember the way to go there, walking quickly to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the scene inside the bar.

To think you were actually starting to like the guy now that your issues were kind of solved, but maybe Bucky wasn’t really the right person you wanted as a friend if he was willing to jeopardize the mission for a woman he met a few days ago.

You finally arrived home, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulder as you shut close the door behind you. Tossing your coat onto the couch still completely in the dark, since you were too drained to bother with the lights, all you craved was a shower and some sleep due to the late hour and the events of the day. However, it seemed that fate had other plans.

As you made your way towards the stairs, the doorbell pierced the silence. With a scoff, you retraced your steps and swung the the door open, only to be met with the sight of the infuriating man in black, his grin widening at the sight of your irritation.

“I told you he was having fun.” He remarked, relishing in your obvious displeasure. “Did I not?”

“More than me for sure.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… men are weak. Give them a beautiful woman and they’ll forget about their duties. If you need help, real help with this case, I’m offering it. You just need to say yes.”

“No.” You said again, firmly.

“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Your heart stopped at that. “My- my what?”

“Mother.” He repeated casually as if dropping that bombshell on you was just another walk in the park for him. “What? Did you think you popped out of nowhere?” He grinned, using the knowledge he had about your past - past you didn’t even know - to manipulate you into joining him.

You struggled to find the right words to respond, but your brain couldn’t process anything concrete.

“Oh, I’ve got your attention for real now, don’t I? Little Emma wants to know about her mother more than you want help for this case. Selfish, I love it.”

You met his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. He had been right the whole time, if we want to be honest, and in the back of your mind you kept thinking about his words as if there was a little devil on your shoulder that was telling you to listen to him. It was clear now that he knew how to find you, who you were and what you wanted… which wasn’t really great news.

You simply shut the door on his face, and you hoped for a moment of peace - but even that was short lived. The doorbell chimed once more, prompting you to hurry back, only this time you had your gun in hand, ready to get rid of the stranger once and for all.

As you opened the door again with your finger firmly on the trigger, you quickly realized that there was no need to use violence that time. Instead, you lowered your hand with clear surprise and relief on your face, your expression softening as you took the unexpected sight before you.

“Woah, calm down.” A familiar voice remarked, her eyebrows raised at your defensive stance. “A bit on edge, are we? Let me in and explain everything, I’m here to help.”

“Natasha.” You greeted, moving aside to let her in.

Finally someone who didn’t get on your nerves.

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

Note

I heard Punk! Steve and came running to your ask box 😂😅

Anyways tell me more please

Ofc Ally ❤️ I give you the origin of Punk!Steve.

After the events of 1985, The Harringtons never returned. They left a voicemail for Steve, something along the lines of bad investments, disappointments and don't call. Steve didn't hear it til he got out of the hospital. He broke down, went on a bender for a week that only Robin managed to pull him out of once she found his house.

They talked a lot, about childhoods and being misunderstood. Steve felt he could tell Robin anything after their time in the mall bathroom and so he did. Robin had brlught a book about the library about overcoming trauma. It probably hadn't been the books intention, but they burnt a lot of stuff that night. A big bonfire by the pool, chatting the precious lawn, Steve didn't care.

They burnt the couch, the pool chairs, his parents mattress, bits of his rooms wallpaper, shirts, that stupid car picture. Anything that his parents had given him that was meant to build him in their image.

Next was the bathroom. Clippers in hand Steve shaved the side of Robin's hair and she did both of his sides in return. Robin cracked a joke that no matter what they did to Steve's hair it still looked perfect. Steve wanted more. A trip the the drugstore provided an answer. A quick bleach and dye later and Robin and Steve giggled at the red tipped hair.

They weren't done, Steve never wanted them to be done, with every hour he felt more free.

"You sure this is safe?"

"No but I saw a girl do it in the bathroom at school and your room is probably more sanitary."

"OW WHAT HAPPENED TO 1 2 3!"

Steve thought the safety pins through his ears were cool.

"When you turn 18, were getting matching tattoos."

"Soulmates for life, dingus."

The following weekend they took a trip to Indianapolis. They checked out thrift shops and spray painted storefronts. Steve traded his converse for docs, his polo's for ripped and mesh shirts. Splashes of solid colour were added to his look. They ripped his jeans in the car. Steve hoarded pins upon pins.

Back home, Robin carefully lined his eyes in dark kohl. His eyes becoming sharp and calculated. He smiled at himself in the mirror, staring back he finally saw Steve, just Steve made completely by him.

"Honestly, looking like this I could carry around my bat."

"Would certainly be convenient next time we're captured by Russians."

Steve rolled his eyes looking back at her lounging on his bed.

"What're you reading?"

"Oh? Um it's a zine I picked up at the last store, you know...the one with the pink triangle?"

"Oh that one." Robin had been educating him about queer history as much as she could for a small town girl. "What's it about?"

Robin bit her lip, "Um well, it's about people like me, and people not quite like me, ya know? Like there's a whole bunch of labels out there, I just wanted to make sure mine fit."

Steve smiled, "And what did you learn?"

"Definitely a lesbian, sorry babes." Steve laughed in return, his feelings for Robin had shifted firmly to platonic and she knew that. "Here, you should take a look, will help broaden ya education."

Steve took the zine and started to flip through it. Inside it detailed genders and sexualities. Steve was intrigued to find out there were more than just boys and girls, but that wasn't what caught his attention the most.

Bisexuality

Steve's eyes seemed to linger on the page, almost for too long.

"Steve? You ok? If you're getting a migraine again we can read it later, no rush."

Steve pulled his eyes away, "No, um, no migraine, it's just, um..." Robin could easily pick up the hesitation in his voice, there was a slight tremor in his hands. She slowly leant over, taking back the zine.

"Oh, Steve."

"Just didn't know a person could be that."

"How does it make you feel?"

"Honestly, I feel more like me than I have my whole life. Thank you, Robs, for all of thos you know."

"Course, dingus, you're my schmuck for life, and... I'm always here if you need to talk about things."

Steve nodded, no words were needed now between them, there would be more days, more discoveries. But now, for now they could sit together, two broken kids feeling a little more whole.

Just Robin.

Just Steve.

Just Them.

#this became punk steve and steve learns anout bisexuality but i feel they would overlap #stranger things #punk steve #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #ficlet #punk steve harrington #punk!steve

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mochamvgz · 1 year

Text

he accepted it??

you're worried when your boyfriend abruptly goes m.i.a. but what he actually did was something you had never expected of him

lee heeseung x reader

genre: betrayal

warnings: betrayal, slight profanity ; 0.38k words

perm taglist: @inkelea @yuerki

inspo: https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cuce_E-I7Y8/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

··•··

you sigh, frustrated, running a hand through your hair as the call went to voicemail yet again

your boyfriend, heeseung was supposed to pick you up after your dinner with your friends. so where the hell was he?? he's never late...

it was also out of character for him to miss your calls and not call back within 5 mins. is he okay?? did something happen to him?? no you're just being paranoid...he has to be okay right?

you try to stay level-headed which is harder than it should be and try to return to the matter at hand, how are you going to get home?

sure you could walk but it's pouring, so you call an uber

··•··

"hee?"

the first thing you do upon unlocking the door to your shared appartment is call out his name

no response

maybe he had a long day at work and fell asleep

you remove your heels and put them away in the tidily in the shoe rack

you look around in the living room in case he was lying asleep on the couch. he wasn't

after not finding him in the bedroom or bathroom you look around the appartment once again, more thoroughly this time

he must've gotten held up at work

but he would've texted you to let you know right?

you try to keep the worrying thoughts at bay as you got ready for bed

you rang him one last time before going to sleep, voicemail again

··•··

it's been 3 days and there's been no sign of heeseung

you're stirring your coffee while trying to focus on your work

just then you get a call

it isn't your boyfriend, it's your step-father

oh god you hate that man, however you have no choice but to pick up

"what do you want?"

"is that any way to greet your father now (name)?"

"step father" you're quick to correct him

a sigh is heard from the other end of the line

"anyways, how's life without your boyfriend?"

your stomach sinks... there's no way

he's just playing mind games with you...right?

"what did you do?" your voice a mix of frustration and desperation

"the lad was practically drooling when i named the amount" the statement is followed by wheeze from him

"you offered him a fucking payout??"

and he accepted it...

··•··

a/n: to make up for being mia recently. also I was just formatting this and I got a notif saying i got accepted into k-films??? the timing??? is this a sign my flop era is coming to an end? 🤞🤞hopefully this means my exam tmr will go well too

··•··

104 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

Text

menace (pjm) — pt. v

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 5/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Angst + Smut + Eventual Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 7k Summary: Some conversations are long overdue. AUs: Older brother’s best friend; fuck buddies that hate each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer; sort of an omniscient POV?; the return of jeon jungkook; the consequences of their own actions; angsty bits but ending on a good note! A/N: This takes place immediately after the events of pt. 3! FYI, I slightly lessened the age gap between Seokjin and Jimin for plot purposes. The smut will return in the final part, so don't fret ✨ ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

When he left your house earlier that day — left you, at your demand — Jimin went home. He shuffled off to his bedroom, dropped like a stone onto his own mattress, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

He was still stuck on the puzzle. Over and over, he replayed the moment he’d kissed you. It was a reflex, not a choice. The way you gazed up at him, starry eyed, from the cushions of your sofa didn’t leave him a choice. And even though he should have regretted it immediately, he didn’t — not until he watched your face warp, not until you pushed him away.

Staring mindlessly up at his ceiling, Jimin struggled to recall what the fuck this was all for — any of it. The distance, the hostility, the rules. The two of you had pushed forward so recklessly and for so long that the starting line was blurry. Everything was, and the harder he thought about it, the dizzier he got.

To ground himself, Jimin closed his eyes and pressed his palms flat against the bed. His fingers grabbed fistfuls of the duvet below, like he might go flying around the room otherwise. Pinched hard between his thumbs and index fingers, he ran the pads of them over the fabric. As he did, he closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deliberately.

What’s the point?

It took a moment, but he felt it when he bent one knee, foot flat against the bed. The point was actually a rounded corner, and it was pressing into his thigh through the lining of his pocket. Despite knowing better, he fished his phone out. Muscle memory guided him through to his mailbox; consistently shitty judgment clicked on the sole message he found there. The rest of him tensed, awaiting impact.

As a general rule, Jimin didn’t hold on to voicemails — if he bothered to listen to them at all. He believed that anyone who truly needed to speak to him would text him if their first attempt went unanswered. Otherwise, they’d blow up his phone until he stopped screening their calls altogether. But he wasn’t great with rules, as he’d recently learned, so there was one exception:

Jimin had no idea why he kept yours after all this time, but he did.

He played it every now and then; and every time he did, he asked himself why, never arriving at an answer. Self-flagellation was his best guess. After all, no good came from tear-soaked venom, especially not one year after the fact. Knowing better almost never meant doing better, however.

By now, he could likely recite it by memory.

You’re not going to listen to this, but I’ll say it anyway because I didn’t deserve what you did to me tonight, and you deserve to hear it.

You then take a shallow, shaky breath.

I’ve spent years — years — waiting for you to be brave. Followed you around like a fucking puppy, and for what? This?

The crack in your voice is smoothed over by a humorless laugh.

I’ve wasted my own breath defending you to other people when you’re not even there — and I wish I could swallow it all back down.

Then, the coup de grâce:

You are every awful thing people say about you.

For weeks, Jimin beat himself over the head with that last line until he could barely get out of bed. You knew him, knew how much something like that would hurt him — especially when it came from you. Still, you said it anyway, convinced that he wasn’t still the person you thought he was. Back then, two questions spun relentlessly in the back of his mind:

If you wielded that particular knife intentionally, did he really know you? Why would he bother with an explanation or apology when you wrote him off so quickly, so completely?

Groaning loudly, Jimin locked his phone and tossed it onto the mattress next to him just to scrub his hands over his face. It bounced and landed with a smack against the hardwood beneath his bed, but he didn’t flinch. He’d just have to add that to the list of things he’d fucked up lately.

Highest up on that list was breaking the rules of his own mind games. He wasn’t supposed to deviate. All he wanted to do — at the very start — was to hurt you back by proving you right. To finally meet your expectations for him, be every awful thing you said about him in that voicemail. At least, that’s what he thought he wanted. Now, he was left to question his motives.

Was he unwilling to let that anger go, or was he unwilling to let you go? If it was truly ever about revenge, when did it stop?

Jimin asked himself that question as if he didn’t already know the answer. It stopped as soon as it started: when twenty years’ worth of wondering were over, and he finally knew what it felt like to hold you, even if the circumstances looked nothing like they should’ve.

Fuck.

You should’ve punched him for what he did to you, but you didn’t. The realization hit him instead, so hard that his ears were ringing. It was never you that he hated and it should’ve dawned on him a long time ago that all he’d ever been doing was projecting. He should’ve known that no matter how much he hated himself, he loved you more than that.

He always had, hadn't he?

“Fucking idiot,” he growled to himself, swinging his legs over the side of his bed to stand.

Once he pushed himself to his feet, he grabbed his car keys and coat from the place he’d dropped them upon returning from your house. He snatched that fucking phone, too, before heading for the front door to make that same trip again. When he opened the door, he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide.

Seokjin was frozen with his fist raised to knock. It dropped back down to his side as soon as his surprise wore off.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Got a minute?”

It was a mistake, agreeing to meet up with Jungkook for a boxing class. Following the morning’s events, you were still nursing a bruised elbow and, far worse than that, a slow-to-recover ego. Maybe the real problem was the bitterness that sat on the tip of your tongue and never left, no matter how hard you swallowed. Embarrassment, regret, some third emotion you had yet to categorize. One way or another, you were miserable.

You deserve it.

Exhausted and sweat-slicked, Jungkook sat down next to you on the bench you’d all but collapsed on to. To no one’s surprise, he was in significantly better shape than you; and unlike you, he still had the strength to move his arms. He pulled off his gloves, then he made short work of yours without you even needing to ask.

“I’m still not getting it,” he sighed.

The two pairs of gloves dropped onto the floor in front of you with a muffled thump that was louder than his breath had been.

“You’ve been fucking at an alarming frequency for a year, and you’re mad that he kissed you?”

You turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. Incredulous, you huffed, “First of all, what do you mean alarming?”

“I mean bi-weekly — at minimum,” he deadpanned.

This motherfucker.

The earnest, unimpressed look on his face prompted you to jab him in the ribs with your elbow long before you remembered your injury. When you hissed, he rolled his eyes. Then, nudging your shoulder with his, Jungkook’s tone softened. Gently, he asked, “What's actually bothering you?”

“He broke the rules.”

This caught his attention, and he paused. His hands fell motionless in his lap. “Oh,” was all he said. He now knew exactly why you’d been haunting the gym like some sick, sad, Victorian ghost for the past two hours; but judging by the way his brows knit together, he still didn’t have a clue what to do or say about it.

You scooted further back on your seat and pulled your knees to your chest, not unlike the way you’d sat on your living room floor a few hours earlier. Staring intently at the ground, you wondered if there was any way to disappear into the carpet — which someone absolutely should have vacuumed since your last appearance there, but clearly hadn’t. It was quiet for more than a few moments as you and your thoughts got lost in the crop circles of dirt amidst the fibers.

Eventually, you mumbled, “This whole thing went haywire. It was working so well for so long, and now it’s fucked.”

Jungkook leaned against the wall, head tilted slightly to keep his eyes on you. With the corner of his mouth hitched up, he mused, “Was it really working, though?”

You blinked dumbly back at him.

“Is it possible that you weren’t doing this to hurt him? That — and I’m just spit-balling here — you just wanted to keep him around, one way or another?”

The brick in the pit of your stomach was sinking deeper, and its corners were starting to jab you in weak spots you weren’t previously aware of.

Of course I wanted to hurt him. He hurt me first.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, in part to keep from snapping at Jungkook but largely because you wouldn’t know what to say if you did. He had a point, after all, and that was difficult to reconcile. Why else would you have kept at this little game for as long as you had?

That’s the worst part about a long con, isn’t it? It never, ever ends up the way you’d planned. The more time you invest in something, the harder it is to remember why you bought in to begin with.

At the outset, you’d absolutely wanted to bring that boy to his knees. You had every intention of letting him fall on his face from there. He was supposed to feel as invisible and unwanted as you did when you sat at that table for two, all alone. Like cellophane, transparent. You were supposed to stay detached; it’s why you had rules in the first place.

So, why did you keep it going? Why was it eating you up inside when those rules were broken, and you couldn’t? Did you start something, knowing in some hidden corner of your brain that you’d never want to stop?

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dropped your face into your hands and muttered, “Fuck.”

Jungkook, in an attempt to be comforting, slung his arm around your shoulder. His skin was as clammy as yours, instantly causing you to squeal, but he didn’t let you squirm away. Instead, he encircled you, pinning your arms to your sides in the process. He grunted through his laughter, “Let me — comfort — you — you fucking cactus!”

“Hands to yourself, swamp ass!” You warned, still wriggling.

The dangerous look you tried to send him was lost; it crumpled with your face as you laughed hard enough to make your abdominal muscles even more sore. You flailed, but as you tried to get to your feet, his arms constricted. He smiled in that signature Jungkook way — all front teeth and pursed lips — as if caging you in was child’s play.

You whined, “I mean it. I can throw a punch now!”

It took him next to no effort to subdue you completely, leaving you to wonder what the fuck those boxing classes were truly worth. Dejected, you had no option but to slump against him like a rag doll, panting and considering requesting a refund.

“For the record,” Jungkook sighed, “You’re just as gross.”

You scowled even though you faced away from him. “Shut up.”

He glanced down at you. In a matter of seconds, his smirk reappeared on his face. Flexing an eyebrow, he teased, “So, what’s first on your agenda when you get home? Showering or telling Jimin you’re in love with him?”

You knew he said it primarily to fuck with you, that he didn’t mean for it to bruise, but it did. Because, while it was true, that realization didn’t clean up the mess you’d made. It didn’t erase what Jimin did, either, which made things all the more complicated. He knew how much it would hurt — there’s no way he didn’t — and he still didn’t show up for you.

So, what?

What difference did it make if you loved him? You always had, on some level; and he didn’t feel the same. He never had. The only difference time had made was that now, you couldn’t remember how to let people in. You locked that part of you in a vault to keep yourself safe, and then you swallowed the key. Even if his feelings had changed, he’d never be able to slip past defenses you yourself didn’t know how to lower.

And if that was the case, why would he bother trying?

Jungkook suddenly released his hold around you. Startled, you glanced up over your shoulder at him just in time to watch his mouth curve upwards. Unintentionally, yours did too.

“Seems like there’s an overdue conversation to have, yeah?” He hummed.

You nodded, looking back down at your hands in your lap.

“Just — please, shower first. You are ripe.”

When you were nine, your parents enrolled you in dance classes at a local studio. They said that you had more energy than they knew what to do with, that a physical outlet for it all would be good for you. And even though Seokjin was fourteen at the time, he knew better. He knew that decision had nothing whatsoever to do with you.

The truth — which he was sure you realized now — was that your parents needed somewhere to put you on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

That year was the first in which Seokjin’s soccer team was worth watching. So much so, in fact, that they’d made it to the quarterfinals of a local tournament. He knew it, even back then, that it was meaningless; just a group of shithead teens vying for a trophy they’d sell at a garage sale the following summer. More importantly, he knew that kind of thought isn’t one a ninth-grader should have to have. Your parents didn’t seem to get it, so, he figured, someone should.

They were present for every practice — every Tuesday and Thursday — without fail. They cheered through all of them as if it was the final they were watching, not Seokjin running drills in a bright purple practice jersey. Then, when practice was over, they’d shower him with praise that a fourteen-year-old should’ve basked in. Every time, he’d have to cut them off and remind them of the empty seat next to his in the back of the minivan. Someone needed to notice when you weren’t around.

He was good at that, nudging them, even though he shouldn’t have had to be — and he only fucked up once.

On one drive home, he was too engrossed in his Nintendo DS to think twice when his parents asked him to choose between grabbing dinner with them and going home. Seokjin chose the latter; they dropped him off and headed out to whatever restaurant they’d chosen.

After an hour, he wandered to the kitchen to eat whatever the fuck he wanted to for dinner. His head was buried in the refrigerator when a loud knock at the front door scared him so badly that he smacked his head against a shelf, cursing loudly without any adults nearby to yell at him for it. Confused, he shuffled off towards the foyer, glanced through the peephole, and shoved the door open.

It didn’t make sense, Jimin appearing on his doorstep without calling first. That is, until Seokjin saw you clinging to Jimin’s hand with wet eyes and a trembling lip.

“Forgot my water bottle and went back for it, saw her sitting by herself on a bench outside the studio,” Jimin explained through gritted teeth.

He could’ve dropped your hand at any point after walking you from the studio to your house, but he held it still. “Hyung, she was out there for an hour.”

Seokjin was fourteen the first — and only — time he dropped you. Jimin, at just twelve, was there to pick you up.

Now, well over a decade later, it was Seokjin standing on Jimin’s doorstep. Though the two of them had grown significantly since then, the reason for the sudden drop-in hadn’t changed. Everything else aside, they would always have that one thing in common: You.

“Hyung, do you —” Jimin had barely said a word, and yet he was already stammering. If his eyes bugged out any further, Seokjin worried he’d have to clean them up off the doormat. “D’you wanna come in?”

The youngest stepped to the side, opened the door wide enough for the eldest to slip into the entryway. All the while, it looked like he was actively working to not shit himself. Thankfully, Seokjin had been inside more times than he could count, and he knew his way by heart: straight to the refrigerator to grab two beers.

He tossed one to Jimin, whose nerves nearly made him fumble it. The can smacked into his chest when his hands lagged behind, coming to life just in time to prevent it from free-falling to the floor.

“So,” Seokjin started.

He cracked open his beer without taking his eyes off Jimin, or letting a single emotion register on his face. It might have been a shitty thing to do, but he’d always loved watching Jimin squirm; and this was the most uncomfortable he’d seen his friend in decades.

“Anything you want to tell me, or should I just go for it?”

Jimin’s jaw clenched tightly enough that Seokjin could practically see the blood flowing through the vein protruding from his neck below. Clearly, he was trying to find his words. Lucky for him, Seokjin wasn’t known for his patience. He took over without wasting another second.

He sighed, “I always suspected that you were an idiot, but I didn’t know you were this dumb.”

Dead silence, save for what might’ve been all of Jimin’s synapses sizzling at once.

“No, seriously,” Seokjin snorted. Eyebrow raised, he lifted his hand and gestured to Jimin with his beer. “I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so concerned.”

Jimin’s forehead crinkled as he attempted to catch up. “I — what?”

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Seokjin dropped down into his usual stool at Jimin’s kitchen counter. Elbow to granite, he propped his cheek onto the heel of his hand.

Really, he hoped that years’ worth of friendship meant that Jimin could buffer a little fucking faster. The open-mouthed gawking indicated otherwise, to Seokjin’s dismay. Annoyed that his beautiful mind wasn’t being telepathically read, Seokjin groaned. “You think I throw that fucking Valentine’s Day party every year for — what, my health? My girlfriend only likes me half the time, man. Come on.”

Jimin simply blinked in response, like it was all his brain could manage.

“I’ve been trying to push the two of you together for years,” Seokjin huffed. “I’ve expended so much effort that I should be financially compensated, frankly, but that’s beside the point."

At the rate Jimin’s mouth was opening and closing, Seokjin could’ve easily mistaken him for a caught fish, gasping for air. Nevertheless, he persisted. "I even conned you into playing chauffeur this last time, thinking that maybe that would do it — and you waited another half a year to make a move? Babo.”

The confusion eventually gave way to something unreadable, though, right before Jimin’s hand raised. He landed a swift smack on Seokjin’s bicep with a growl before Seokjin could even think to brace himself.

“Are you kidding?” Jimin shouted.

Oh, you’re mad mad.

Jimin kept swatting, punctuating every word with a hit. “You’re — you — fuck!”

He gave up with a yell and slammed his fists down on the countertop, making Seokjin jump. Just as quickly, Jimin crumpled at the center, doubled over so that his entire upper body rested on top of his folded arms. His forehead dug into the knuckles of his thumbs, which curled around tightly clenched fists. Though Jimin had squeezed his eyes shut, Seokjin could make the educated guess that he was seeing red.

“First of all, what the fuck was that?” Seokjin scoffed.

In a flash, Jimin’s eyes cracked open. Instead of anger, there was something else buried there. Something sobering that made Seokjin’s stomach turn. He felt even worse when Jimin spoke again, sounding outright defeated:

“That shit you said about Chan and his sister,” Jimin grumbled, mouth unable to move fully with the way he’d slumped. “What was I supposed to take from that?”

Seokjin was at a loss, so he took a swig of his beer and swallowed it with a sigh. “What shit? I haven’t talked to Chan in — fuck — year or so now.”

Jimin stood up just enough to press his palms to the countertop, head still hanging while he leaned. “About me being lucky that he didn’t make me swallow my teeth?”

Oh.

Fuck.

Seokjin frowned. For as long as he could remember, his love language had been fucking with people. With you, with Jimin, and with Jungkook, once he popped into the picture. There was a silent understanding that his little pranks and digs were a sign of affection. If he didn’t mess with someone, it was safe to assume that he didn’t give a shit about them.

Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about that conversation with Jimin because it wasn't any different than every other conversation they’d ever had. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve he never intended to aim at. Goddamnit.

He grimaced. “You held off because of me?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, then he sank down on to the stool on the opposite side of the counter. Incredulous, he scoffed, “Was I supposed to see that as a green light?”

Seokjin didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He nursed his beer in silence, eyes downcast. Jimin, of course, had a point. Several, it seemed, because he continued, “You and your sister are adept at kneecapping people, whether or not it’s intentional.”

It was a direct hit, as far as Seokjin was concerned. He wasn’t the best at reading the room. On the other hand, you were always extremely sensitive to other people’s feelings. It was this consideration that prompted him to raise an eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”

Jimin swallowed hard. Whatever he wanted to say was visibly lodged in his throat, unwilling to budge. To help knock it loose, Seokjin — gently — smacked the center of Jimin’s back, right between the shoulder blades. His efforts earned him a scowl, but then an admission.

“Hyung, I fucked it up. Bad.” Jimin scrubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to hide.

Seokjin kept his expectant eyes fixed on him, silently pressuring him to keep talking.

“I blew her off a year ago because I’m chickenshit, and she still hates me for it. So, I’m sorry to say that the ship has fucking sailed — and then I capsized it — and now I’m drowning.”

Deep in thought, Seokjin turned his head away from Jimin to stare into the middle distance. He needed contemplative silence — or, if nothing else, to look pensive — but he found an out instead. Sitting on top of the counter on the far side of the kitchen was a toolbox. As he stared at it, the sound of Jimin’s ongoing melodrama gave way to gears turning.

“If I could talk to her, I think I could fix it, but that’s the problem —”

Blah, blah, blah.

Above all else, Seokjin was pragmatic. A schemer, always one step ahead. He raised his hand to cut Jimin off mid-monologue and asked, “You know anything about plumbing?”

Your drive home from the gym took twice as long as your drive there. Flying on autopilot, your eyes stuck to the road, and your hands went through the motions of turning the wheel, but your mind wasn’t in the car with you. If it was, you likely wouldn’t have driven past your freeway exit, not once but twice.

Unfortunately for you, your inability to focus only got worse as heavy raindrops hit your windshield. Before you knew it, the smattering evolved into sheets so substantial that the drum of fallout against the metal roof left you somewhere close to hypnotized. Mind otherwise blank to your surroundings, all you could think about was Jimin and the steps you’d have to take next.

Obviously, playing stupid games won you stupid prizes. If you kept it up, you’d shatter; and as far as you could tell, a clean break from him was the only thing that might keep you in one piece. You had to shut it all down, crawl back into your bunker, and wait it out. Resurface, maybe, when you stopped wanting him.

When it was safe.

After nearly missing your street, you managed to wind up in your own driveway. Despite reaching your destination, you couldn’t peel yourself out of your seat. The umbrella tucked into the side compartment of your passenger door could’ve gotten you to your front door without too much trouble, but the threat of getting drenched wasn’t what pinned you down. It was the fact that, once again, you were the butt of some cosmic joke. A bookend.

Your first night with Jimin looked just like this one. How fitting that the ending would be waterlogged, too.

Before you could sink into that pit of nostalgia, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached across the passenger seat for your umbrella. It fought you on the way out of its resting place, snagging against the lip of the molded plastic and threatening to rip. With one last, careful tug, you freed it. You opened your door with your left hand while unwrapping the velcro band with your right.

The effort was ultimately useless. The rain pelted the pavement with such force that it ricocheted, like it was raining from the ground up. Your socks and shoes were soaked within seconds, squelching with every step as you scurried up the path to your doorstep. For once, the universe sided with you and allowed you to unlock your door on the first attempt, rather than the third.

“Motherfucker,” you muttered to no one as you skidded, dripping, over the threshold.

Dumping your umbrella next to your hastily discarded shoes, you tossed your keys onto their designated hook and made a beeline for the shower, shivering as the rush of air cooled your wet skin. As you went, you fought for your life against your soaked sweatshirt, which had all but doubled its weight on your trek in from the car. The combination of its heavy fabric and your laughably sore muscles had you panting before your feet found the tile floor they sought.

Of course, that was cold, too.

You hissed, “Motherfucker,” while slamming the door shut behind you. After chucking the remainder of your clothes in the general direction of your over-filled hamper, you bent down and turned the shower handle as far to the left as it could go. You might have ended up melting your skin off your body, but at least that chill in your bones would be gone.

You couldn’t put your finger on it right away, but something was different. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, you glanced between the shower head and the drain, like staring intently enough would reveal some sort of secret. Eventually, it clicked.

It alarmed you that nothing alarmed you. Aside from the stream hitting the floor, it was quiet. No groaning, no ominous clanking or sputtering — just water, unaccompanied, at the temperature you asked for.

“What —?” Your voice trailed off before you could finish talking to yourself.

For eighteen months, you sent consistent, increasingly angry, written notices to your landlord, begging him to fix whatever was wrong with your plumbing. At the very least, you wanted him to look into it and confirm you weren’t just hallucinating. He ignored you, time and again, until you’d given up entirely. Of course, he waited until then to do something, like it was out of the goodness of his own heart and not the result of your incessant nagging.

And — exactly as you expected — it took him no time at all to fix it. Less than the duration of your occasional cameo at the gym.

Unable to stop yourself, you rolled your eyes and scoffed as you stepped into the shower, letting the frustration evaporate with the steam. It left you with a sigh that bordered a moan, so surprising and genuine that you embarrassed yourself. “Oh, fuck.”

You’d almost forgotten what it felt like, showering with adequate water pressure and without groaning pipes. It was perfect. If you could have, you would’ve stayed there for the rest of the night, ignoring the consequences waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Maybe, you thought, you could watch it all slip down the drain — the dread, all those feelings you never consented to having. You could hide there and scrub yourself clean of the mess you’d made while trying to fix yourself. The hot water supply didn’t support your plan, however, and your hour of boiling yourself like a dumpling came to a tragic, increasingly chilled end.

Faster than you ever had before, you yanked a towel off the nearby rack, encircled yourself with it, and hopped out onto the bath mat. Unlike earlier that day, you intended to rip the metaphorical bandage off quickly. You wanted to thrust yourself out into the hallway before you could get too comfortable in the holdover warmth inside the bathroom. That intention didn’t get you far, though.

As soon as you turned for the door, you saw the note taped to the back of it. The moisture had made the ink bleed slightly, but the message was still legible. In handwriting you could easily pick out of a lineup, it read:

Hope I didn’t make it worse. Should I send the bill to your landlord? Also, you really need to find a better spot for your spare. Not safe! — J

Motherfucker.

Jimin was elbow-deep in dishes when he heard something resembling a thump.

At the rate the storm had kicked up outside, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the wind overturned his garbage can, or knocked a branch loose from the tree looming over his front porch. Whatever it was, it was muffled under the rush of water spilling out of the sky in waves. So, he shrugged and went back to scrubbing the pan he’d used to make dinner.

When the last remnants of his meal were washed away, he used the back of his wrist to push the faucet lever down. Without the additional flow of water, he heard that noise again — louder now, pace almost frantic. His brow furrowed as he pulled off his dish gloves. He hung them carefully over the faucet to dry, then he turned to investigate the source of the sound.

The closer he got to the front of his house, the clearer it became that the noise had nothing to do with the weather. In fact, if he had to bet, Jimin would’ve guessed it was Seokjin showing up unannounced for the second time that day.

“Hyung, I know you love me, but why are you —” Jimin started to whine as he flicked the porch light on and jerked the door open. “— So needy?”

He should’ve known better by now than to make guesses. It never, ever ended up being the Kim he expected.

Instead, it was you, dripping so thoroughly that you may as well have been melting. Your hair was windswept in every direction with wayward pieces of it sticking to your cheekbones. As much of a mess as you were, he couldn’t help but think that you looked beautiful this way, too. If it weren’t for that look on your face, he would’ve reached out to push some of those strands back, away from your eyes.

Oh.

You were crying.

Suddenly panicked, he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Why did you do it?” You demanded. The tremor in your voice didn’t match the scowl on your face. “I deserve to know why.”

His eyes widened, eyebrows rising steadily as he cobbled together a response. “Your plumbing is garbage and so is your landlord.” He held up his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry for letting myself in, but I didn’t think you would —”

“No,” you interrupted, voice cracking.

The fist you’d used to bang on his door unfurled slightly, leaving one finger to point accusingly at him. The gesture had him pinned in place, as if you were brandishing a gun instead.

“Why the fuck would you ask me out if you were just going to bail on me? Why — You didn’t even answer the phone.” You were one breath away from sobbing, but you pressed on. “You can’t do that and then do what you did today. You can’t. It’s not fucking fair.”

Before he could do anything — say a word, let you inside — you spun sharply on your heel to leave.

For once, he didn’t react too late. He grabbed your hand and kept you from slipping away. You paused, unsure of what to do with his touch, and refused to look back until his other hand landed gently on your shoulder. He couldn’t help the relieved sigh that slipped out of his mouth when you let him turn you back around.

You didn’t look up at him at first, which Jimin guessed was an attempt to hide away. Making yourself invisible wasn’t something you used to do on purpose, so watching you do it in real time made him ache. Try as you might, it wouldn’t work on him. He’d always known where to look to find you.

“Come inside?" He wasn’t above begging, so that’s precisely what he did. "Please.”

Your eyes lifted from your shoes to glance between Jimin and your car in his driveway. While he didn’t blame you, it stung like hell to know he’d turned you into someone inclined to run. He would’ve let it happen, if that’s what you wanted — dropped your hand and watched you go — no matter how much he wanted you to stay.

But you didn’t leave.

There was a microscopic nod, then you followed him over the threshold. Once the door shut behind you, Jimin let go of your hand so you could take off your shoes and jacket. He took the latter and hung it from the nearby hook, then he asked, “Do you want something of mine to wear? I can throw yours in the dryer.”

You shook your head, unwilling to let yourself be any more vulnerable than you had been already. You lied, “I’m fine.”

Jimin frowned, but he didn’t push you. Instead, he let you take the lead, falling in step behind you as you made your way to his kitchen. Unlike Seokjin, you didn’t take to rummaging through his refrigerator; you simply stood in the corner of the counter and held yourself with crossed arms.

Not knowing what else to do, Jimin took a seat on the opposite side and waited — for what, he wasn't sure. Some sort of sign, yelling, anything. All he got was quiet, save for the sniffling you couldn’t mask. You weren’t even looking at him.

Fuck it. Here we go.

“I can’t give you an excuse because there isn’t one,” he started. “All I have is an explanation, and even that’s shitty.”

This caught your attention. There was a small flicker of amusement in your eyes, though it was gone as soon as it appeared. It was encouraging, even if it was brief.

“You were right when you called me a coward. Fucking childish, too, but I’m not going to sit here and recite the laundry list of things I hate about myself because that doesn’t constitute an apology — that’s just bullshit, and I’ve put you through enough of that.”

Looking at the hurt broadcasted on your face made his throat tight, so he cleared it and prayed he could keep himself together long enough to spill everything he’d been holding back. To keep his focus, he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. It wasn’t lost on him that the one he gravitated towards was the one you’d gifted him on his birthday several years prior.

There were pieces of you scattered over every surface of his life, his body included.

Fuck.

“Nobody that loves someone should treat them the way I treated you. I fucked it up — all of it — and I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, expression shifting slightly from hurt to something unreadable. With a shaky sigh, he added, “I should’ve said it a year ago, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

The silence that followed spread like smoke, clouding the space between you. Maybe that’s why he struggled to regulate his breathing. That, or the crushing weight of anticipation on his chest while he waited for you to react — to yell, to leave, to do anything.

To his surprise, what he got was a whisper.

“Why didn’t you?”

Jimin’s eyes switched focus from his hands to your face. He expected to find something accusatory there, but he didn’t. If anything, you looked almost expectant, like you knew the answer before you asked but needed to hear him say it. He didn’t want to — it seemed so trivial now — but he'd gotten sick of not giving you what you wanted, so he answered, “Your voicemail.”

You nodded slowly, thoughtfully, while you processed your response. A few more leaden seconds of silence passed before you finally spoke.

“I wanted to hurt you. I knew exactly what to say to do it, which is…” Your voice trailed off as you searched for your next words. “Unhinged." You shook your head quickly and amended, "No, it’s worse than that. It’s — it’s fucking abhorrent, that's what it is.”

Despite himself, Jimin couldn’t bite back his smile. He whistled. “That’s a big word.”

“You are being so unserious right now,” you scolded him. You scowled and put your hands on your hips like some disciplinarian parent — it was futile. Jimin could see you pressing your lips together to keep your laughter inside, clear as day. “Can you let me finish atoning, please?”

“Can I grab a dictionary first?” He countered with a smirk.

Instantly, your incredulousness washed from your widened eyes to your mouth, which fell open. “I swear to God —”

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine, fine. I’m listening, okay? I swear.” You just glared at him, so he said it again. “I promise. Please keep going.”

You took a deep breath and spit the rest of it out quickly, likely expecting him to interrupt you again. “I wanted to hurt you, and there is clearly a part of me that is fundamentally unwell because I didn’t just leave it at that.”

This was a twist he hadn’t seen coming, and it left Jimin thoroughly confused. Head tilted and eyebrows furrowed, he asked, “You didn’t?”

“No,” you sighed. Sheepishly, you scrubbed your hands over your face. They lingered, intentionally or not, as if you were building another wall between the two of you. “I wanted to string you along, make you want me, and then cut you loose.”

Your head drooped, defeated. “I told you. Deeply unwell.”

Jimin was stunned, but not for the reason you seemed to think. His brain buffered, slowing his speech while he tried to process the situation. “You were toying with me?”

In a flash, your gaze snapped up to meet his. Bewildered was the only word he could think of to describe the look on your face. He couldn’t help it; he laughed, “That’s what I thought I was doing.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you wailed, throwing your head back.

Without watching where you were going, you still managed to successfully crumple onto a stool. From there, you deflated fully onto the countertop, limbs spread out and cheek flush against the granite. You muttered, “I hate us. I really do.”

Jimin mumbled in agreement, too stupefied to comment further. Several minutes passed that way, silently, as you each attempted to piece together the thing you’d — unknowingly, jointly — blown straight to hell.

“Jimin?”

You startled him for two reasons, the least of which being the suddenness of your voice in all that quiet. More than anything, it was your unexpected use of his name. His given name.

After a year of you calling him exclusively by his family name, Jimin was ready to assume that you’d forgotten what followed it. It sounded like a foreign language to him now, so much so that he had to pause to make sure he heard you correctly.

Barely audible, you admitted, “I don’t know why I am the way I am. And I don’t know how to do this — to want this. Not properly, anyway. Not yet.”

So, you did hear him earlier.

He didn’t necessarily mean to confess that fact with the rest of his sins. In fact, he was content to let it dissipate when you didn’t acknowledge it floating out there. He didn’t need you to say it back, or even feel it; he just needed to let it out of the cage he’d kept it locked in. And once he did, he pushed past it so quickly that he genuinely believed you might’ve missed it, but you didn’t.

You heard him, and you didn’t leave.

“Can we go back to the beginning?” You asked, sitting upright and turning your head to look at him fully. “We both have so much shit to work through, but I —”

“Hi,” he interrupted.

You blinked, caught off guard. Arm extended, he reached over the counter and held his hand out to you. Cautiously, you accepted it, smile spreading slowly when he shook it, and you finally caught on.

“I’m Jimin.”

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parkeryangs · 8 months

Note

OK BUT THIS IS REALLY INTRIGUING ACTUALLY. tell me more about this 'mattkey' ............

YES ABSOLUTELY OH MY GOD

SO in episode 1 participant observation, the main character, mike walters, claims to be "investigating" a secret online game called woe.begone out of curiosity/boredom, via actually playing the game. w.bg is a series of challenges, the first being that mike had to call his ex-boyfriend and tell him the worst thing he ever did to you.

mike does this, explaining that his "lifelong best friend" (matt) had unexpectedly died in a car crash, and his ex wasn't home at the time/didn't realize how serious the situation was, so he left mike to worry alone before matt's death had actually been confirmed. he tells his ex that he doesn't forgive him and has a breakdown, then waking up the next day to realize that matt wasn't dead and there was no trace of the voicemail he left for his ex. (so, at this point, mike continues to play w.bg, with matt as his "prize")

there's several other challenges he completes, along with another old friend of theirs also playing woe.begone, but the next marker of their relationship is in episode 11 this is only temporary, when mike's woe.begone challenge is to kill the prize from his first challenge— which is obviously matt. he explains the situation, a future version of him shows up to "prove" everything to matt, and ultimately matt slides his gun across the table, mike apologizes, and tells matt he loves him. (i talk more about this in another post)

at the end of season 1, woe.begone contacts mike to tell him that he has to relocate to a government job, a place called o.v.e.r./oldbrush valley energy & resources. he does, with season 2/3 following the start of his time in the valley & continued problem-causing due to w.bg lol. then in episode 35 safehouse, he kills another character and flees o.v.e.r., driving 26 hours to matt's house. he doesn't tell him all the details of what happened, but episode 36 respite is mostly dedicated to mike talking about the few days he spent with matt ("we didn’t need to do anything other than be in each other’s company") (i ramble about matt in 35/36 here)

there's a lot of non-mattkey events that occur, lol, but it gets to a point where matt essentially wants to be involved with a time travel org mike creates called base, but mike kind of keeps him at a distance for reasons unknown (coughs. mike does have a boyfriend he meets at o.v.e.r. and not saying it has anything to do with that but i'm also not Not saying that) and in episode 84 panther, matt helps with stalking two "rogue" iterations of mike and his boyfriend edgar (and i believe this is the first episode where matt has a voice actor?) and continues to do so throughout the current point in the podcast/"about a year" in canon time.

at the end of episode 120 true story, a (drunk) mike transports to matt's house as there was a timeline they'd been in (~e104 to 120ish iirc) where matt was dead once again because of mike. mike gives matt a box of his old stuff, and matt, worrying over mike using time travel when he's drunk lol, brings mike to stay in his spare room (that he mentions he's kept open since mike was last there). mike tells matt he loves him, and matt returns the sentiment.

so YEAH. mattkey my absolute beloved. imo their dynamic is very much "knowing one another better than they know themselves" if that gives you a more direct idea jksdhfjksdf. also college-era mattkey has been brainrotting the fandom recently which might be my fault LOL but pre-wbg mattkey is SO compelling even if only mentioned in passing - i talk about college mattkey here, here, here (kind of), and here, and i wrote a short fic about them here. overall, essentially the catalyst for everything in woe.begone is literally just. matt. like... mike literally rewrites time to keep matt safe and while it's true that mike has a deep relationship with most of his friends, matt is so intrinsically tied to him in a way that nobody else is.

#this is so long grack IM SO SORRY #they are just so important to me. forever and ever. u would really like them i think #mattkey #grack tag #i probably missed some things BUT these are at least the high points i hope lol #askbox #woe.begone #finch chirps

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randomfandomlov3 · 1 year

Text

Price of love (Chapter 7)

Warnings: Disregard of life. Violence. HYDRA brainwashing. Trauma/backstory. Feeling of inadequacy. Let me know if i missed any.

Note: Thank you for reading! <3

Word Count~ 3297

“Hey…” You said as you entered his office. “I think I want to stay. My vacation taught me a lot about myself, and how to deal with things, so I think I am ready to return full-time. To continue counteracting the red.” Fury didn’t smile often and there were very few people who could make him, but you made him smile.

“You know that you don’t have to counteract anything, but I am glad that you are doing better. I missed your sunshine presence.” You couldn’t shake the guilt that easily but hearing that you were missed warmed your heart. You and Fury continued to discuss how you wanted to come back onto missions, if you wanted to keep leading a team, or if you would just rather work with another team. Your first scheduled mission started tomorrow, early. You never liked getting up early for missions, but it still happened from time to time.

The next morning you left a note on your door to explain your absence. With the fact that you are scheduled to be back in approximately a day. You headed down to the weapons room and packed what you thought would be needed. Then you walked through the silent halls down to the jet bay. Being the first one there you started to do the jobs that usually the mission leader would do.

Slowly the rest of the team arrived and piled on the jet. “Great, which one of us has to be paired with missing piece?” one of the other agents asked the mission leader. Your heart sank as you heard the title you had tried to get rid of for years. She was not who you were anymore, you were better than that.

With a laugh, the mission leader replied, “No one, just because Fury told us to take her, doesn’t that we had to treat her the same. And if she doesn’t return, oops… oh well.” The words crushed you as you realized your fellow agents didn’t have your back if something went wrong. Luckily, you had butt-dialled Bucky and got his voicemail, then Fury would have proof of the words these agents said, but none of that mattered if you didn’t survive this mission.

As the jet landed everyone was given a partner, but you. Then everyone was given their task. Yours was unnecessary and dangerous. This was supposed to be an extraction mission, to rescue some people who had been captured by HYDRA. You were tasked with going to their control room and downloading as much information as you could. They didn’t care that this wasn’t an abandoned base, nor did they have enough people to clear the base, that mission was scheduled for later.

“Just get in and out, that’s all you have to do.” You whispered to yourself as you turned invisible, although you knew it was pointless because HYDRA had ways to detect invisible things. Still, this was the directive given, so you were determined to follow it. Maybe after that, you would go back to leading your own team. If you survived that is.

As soon as you entered the correct room the lights went out, and just as your vision was adjusting everything went dark.

“Steve, I’m telling you, I’m worried. We need to go out there and find her. Her team is putting her in danger.” Bucky paced through the kitchen as Steve made some coffee. Waking up to a voicemail hearing that the agents you were on a mission with were deliberately putting you in danger, caused him to panic, he just started to get you back.

“You need to have faith that these agents will be smart, and you need to have faith in your girl, she has always been excellent on missions, even alone.” Steve understood his best friend’s concern, but he knew that they had to be rational about things.

With a huff, Bucky made his way down to the training room to get out his worries. Natasha was already training when Bucky stormed in. “Woah, what’s got you so stressed?” She knows that he rarely shows how he is truly feeling.

“Steve says that I need to trust that things will be okay but the agent’s on Moonlight’s mission, are willingly putting her in danger. This is her first mission since the one she got shot on, what if something happens to her.” Bucky exhaled sitting down. He then played Nat the voicemail. Natasha’s breath hitched, hearing how flippantly they were talking about her friend’s life.

“What do you say to joining me on the mission, to clear out that HYDRA facility? It was scheduled to leave when the other team got back, but I think that the sooner we leave the better. How does that sound?” Natasha packed up her bag and started to send a message. All of the agents on the mission were to be ready down in the jet bay by no later than one o’clock. The determination on Bucky’s face told her everything she needed to know. She gave him the same information she told the other agents, and they parted ways to get ready.

Bucky paced the jet bay, he had been ready for hours, having prepped the jet and everything else for this mission. “Hold on Moonlight, I’m coming to find you.” He whispered to himself. “I can’t lose you; I just got you back.” Natasha interrupted his rambling by setting her bag down beside him.

“We’ll find her, I promise.” She put a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder. “She’s strong, she’ll be alright.” She was not only trying to convince Bucky but also herself.

The entire flight over, Bucky was tense, worried about what awaited them at the HYDRA base. Would he even be able to find you within his past?

Natasha gave out the instructions and the pairings. She and Bucky were searching for you, that was their directive. “Let’s go find our girl,” Nat said with hope lacing her tone.

First, they checked in with the team that you came with, but none of them had seen you since you went off your own direction. As they snuck through the facility, Natasha felt a familiar chill, that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“We need to be careful,” Nat whispered with a hunch about that feeling. Bucky gave her a nod before refocusing on his surroundings. Her feeling didn’t prepare her for what was about to happen though. A strong force that felt like a foot, collided with Nat’s back and she stumbled forward. Bucky readied his knife as he tried to help steady Natasha. “No, it’s her, we can’t hurt her. We have to be careful.” Nat exclaimed as she turned trying to remember the signs of where you might be. The chill started to fade, and Natasha realized that you weren’t after them, someone else was your target. She ran after the fading chill and Bucky followed her.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked matching her pace. He was very confused as to what was going on, why would you attack Nat?

“We have to find out who her target is. I’m following her chill, but it’s fading faster than usual.” Nat said as they fought their way through a group of HYDRA agents. She had promised that they would never get you again. One of the agents uses her moment of guilt, to surprise her. Natasha stunned him with her widow’s bite, but not before the agent caught her side with his knife. Luckily, it wasn’t a deep cut. As she got up, Bucky finished off the last of the other agents. There was just a trace of where you went left, as fast as she could manage, Nat took off towards you.

You were heading toward the entrance, and while Nat had hopes that you were just trying to escape, she knew that was not the truth. As she exited the building, she saw you standing talking to the agents you came on this mission with. Bucky was about to shout your name, but Natasha stopped him. “She’s not herself right now, and we don’t want to put anyone in unnecessary danger.” She whispered creeping closer to you.

Your first mission was to recover the people who were rescued by the extraction team. HYDRA had big plans for them. The other agents were less than pleased to see that you returned, but what they didn’t know was the fate that they had hoped you would meet, was the one you were directed to give to them. You pulled a knife out of one of your pockets, hiding it until you had them right where you wanted them.

“Watch out!” Nat shouted knowing she wouldn’t get there in time to protect them. That was enough to direct the attention away from the group and onto Natasha, and Bucky. You glanced at Bucky before locking your blank eyes on Natasha. “I’m going to need you to restrain her, James. You are the one person here she won’t risk hurting.”

His face paled with confusion. How did Natasha know that, was there more here than she was letting on? But Bucky did as he was told, as you charged toward Natasha, Bucky intercepted. You tried turning invisible in hopes to trick him, but he held you tightly. After a few minutes, you stopped thrashing about like you had been deactivated.

Natasha let out a sigh as she walked over to Bucky. “The worst should be over now.” She then spoke some words in Russian, but Bucky was too confused to comprehend what she was saying. As she finished you came to, with a panicked look on your face. You looked up to see Bucky holding you, and you couldn’t hold back your tears. You felt disgraceful crying on the battlefield, but if what you think just happened, happened, crying is the least of your problems. Still not understanding exactly what was going on, but having a hunch that HYDRA had taken control, Bucky pulled you into his chest so you could calm down.

“I’m sorry, I tried, but I guess I’m not strong enough. I failed, Habiba.” You sobbed out feeling like those years of practice went down the drain.

“You didn’t fail, and you are strong enough, but they were stronger this time. We will keep working on things until I can see if Shuri can give us a hand one more time.” Natasha glanced at Bucky hoping that he was understanding everything.

What happened next was something that almost no one there was expecting. The rest of the Avengers arrived, led by none other than Nick Fury himself. “Mr. Barnes, can I ask that you sit the rest of this mission out, to watch her?” The look in his eye told Bucky that Fury needed him to protect you like you were very important to him, rather than you might have been a threat. Bucky gave him a strong nod before picking you up and carrying you to the jet Fury had brought.

“It’s okay, Doll. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” You got up to pace when he set you down, thinking about whether you should tell him about your past now or wait until later. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did the other agents call you missing piece? And does it have to do with your time in HYDRA?” You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Well, I guess you do deserve to know me and that means my past too.” You took a deep breath before turning to face Bucky. “Let’s start at the very beginning. My dad met my mom after my older brother was born but before me or my baby sister. My brother always held a little bit of caution because he didn’t know this man, even though they tried insisting that he was his stepdad. But that never became important.” You exhaled a laugh.

“Anyway, my father was a Hydra officer when they met, it took a while, but my mom eventually learned what he did and even assisted him when he needed it. However, shortly before my little sister was born, they decided that they wanted out of that life. My mother was in blissful ignorance about the gravity of that decision, and my father ensured she stayed that way. He knew that there was no plausible way for him to leave HYDRA without it being taken down, which at the time seemed like an impossible task. But he also knew that his family would never be safe either.” You sat down next to Bucky.

“So he made a decision, one that changed my life, one that I wish he wouldn’t have made. When my siblings and I were young we took sleepy time medicine as my father called it, because he knew it would not be safe for us to potentially wake up in the middle of the night, when he had to do business. I am pretty sure he slipped my mom some in her bedtime tea though most of the time too. I remember the night of the incident perfectly. I think mainly because I have had to recall it so many times in therapy. My baby sister had been put to bed after her bottle and my older brother drank his juice then went to bed. I had drunk mine, but as I was lying in bed, I heard my father talking to my mom. She asked what she could do to help with the plan, but he insisted that she should go have a bath and that she should take her tea to relax since us kids were already in bed.” Your breathing started to shake as you tried to continue.

“What he did next haunts me to this day. He doused the house, every inch of floor, and every person in gasoline.” Bucky let out an involuntary gasp at your words. “I can still sometimes feel and smell it on myself. There were only four bodies retrieved, but they assumed for a while it was because the ignition point was in my bedroom that there was just no body left to be found. In reality, I ran, I tried to wake everyone up when I found out what he was doing but no one would wake. So I ran. I just about slipped and if I had I still wonder if I would have gotten out in time. I had to strip to get out of my room because all of our pyjamas had chips that set off an alarm if they left the bedroom.”

A shiver shook you as you gathered your thoughts. “My room was chosen as the ignition point because my father knew that I was the only one who sometimes woke up during the effects of the medicine. So not only I was running to god knows where I still cannot remember that detail, I was doing so in nothing but my underwear. Before I got to my destination, I was suddenly unconscious. When I woke up, I was in a HYDRA base.” Bucky’s hand covered his mouth as he tried to comprehend what you had gone through.

“The officer who was there greeted me by saying, ‘Ah, subject 219 you have grown since we last got to see you. Your father tried to keep you away from us, but we knew that he would fail. He was weak, and so was the rest of your family. Oh but you, you are something special.’ I didn’t understand what any of that meant at the time. I later learned that my mother agreed to be experimented on while pregnant with me. She didn’t show any signs of the experiment, so they figured that I had taken it on myself. I didn’t start showing signs of anything strange until that traumatic moment. I’ll be honest I still don’t understand the logistics of it. The main gift that I was given was invisibility. I can make myself and anything I have on me or am holding unable to be seen by any living or man-made creation, however as you might have noticed with Nat tracking me, I make the air around me colder.” Bucky wrapped his arms around you instinctually.

“My time at HYDRA was mostly used to assist their greatest asset, which is why, I’m assuming Nat instructed you to restrain me. She, missing piece, had been programmed to never be able to inflict harm upon the winter soldier.” His grip involuntarily tightened.

“I was rescued by Fury, about 2 years later, and I lived with him at shield headquarters until I became the head of my own team. But for the first few years, Fury had to fight the law in order for me to be allowed to stay there and not be sent to a juvenile detention center. Some members of the government tried to explain that I was really young when it happened so I wouldn’t have been capable of making the distinction between right and wrong, but that was proved false. I somehow had an impeccable sense of morality. Also the severity of the incident, they knew it was no accident. I don’t remember the initial story that Fury came up with for me, but I was eventually forced to do community work and go to court-mandated therapy, so that, to quote, ‘I never did something like that again.’ Fury has tried to get that expunged from my record, but if you dig far enough it still says that I was responsible.” You buried your face into Bucky’s chest to calm your shaking.

“Sometimes I end up in my old neighbourhood for missions, and I still hear people talking about my family, and how I should have been forced to meet the same fate, even though the death penalty was never used on children. If I am ever in public, I worry that people are going to recognize me as that child even though I look almost nothing like I did back then. That child feels like a whole different person. But my court-mandated therapy is why we met, well, indirectly. I finished serving my sentence, and I have kept up with therapy, but with a therapist who actually cares about the person they are working with. I still go by the other office though to make sure everyone is alright before heading into that room because there were a few sessions that I left and I considered ending it, but Fury reminded me that there is more to life than the past.” Bucky’s heart ached for you and the pain you had been through.

“He helped me find another therapist, and I saw them simultaneously because the government only recognized one therapist for the sentence. The way she asked me questions not only felt like an interrogation but also made me feel like I was the one at fault. That is one of the main reasons people have to do special training to interrogate children. But it shouldn’t have been an interrogation.” The tears you were trying to hold back started to wet his shirt.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he rubbed your back. Bucky couldn’t believe that someone so happy and sweet had such a terrible past. He presses his lips to your head trying to figure out what to say in a moment like that. “You don’t have to say anything, I get that this is a lot of information.” You reassured him. Being that vulnerable took a lot out of you, so you curled deeper into him to rest for a little while. “Just rest, Doll. You are safe with me.”

Epilogue

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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ozwriterchick · 2 years

Text

Pursue your happiness

Part 2 - The first steps

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes; Steve Rogers, OFC (Ruby); Other random Avengers

Content warnings: Talk of cheating; angst; abandonment; Pregnancy

Summary: When Ruby flees to her parents house for space

Part 3

Masterlist

**********

Ruby

When I left the compound, I was mentally lost. How had this happened? When did our relationship become not enough that he had to go behind my back and start seeing someone else? Why wasn’t I good enough for him?

I had nobody locally that could help me but I was lucky that I had some savings to get me somewhere, anywhere, else.

I jumped in my car, heading off towards Boston, where my parents lived. I figured that would be the best starting point for this journey. I didn’t think I would stay there long as Bucky knew where they lived and I didn’t want him subjecting my parents to any sort of harrassment. Not that I really thought he was going to follow me, but when I stopped for fuel I checked my phone and saw that I had 12 text messages and 20 missed calls from him.

Steve had also joined in, I had several missed calls and text messages from him as well. Surprisingly, Nat or Sam hadn’t tried me, but maybe they didn’t know I’d left yet. I just wanted to get as far away from New York and the 2 of them, all of the Avengers really, because they all seemed to have knowledge of what was going on, as I could tonight.

I turned my phone off deciding to deal with the calls, messages and voicemails tomorrow. I drove directly to my parent’s house where I sat in the car to gather myself before I went in. It’s almost 11pm and the lounge lights are still on, so they’re still up. I'm sure he’s already called them and I’m walking into a Spanish Inquisition.

I grabbed my bag off the back seat and headed to the front door. Before I could even knock or reach for the door handle, the door flew open and my Mum was throwing her arms around me in a typical Mum hug.

“Oh Ruby, my baby” she said, despite me being nearly 30 “James called looking for you, what happened. He said you just left your place?”

“Mum, it wasn't my place, it was his. Look, can I just come in and sit down first?” I asked “I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Of course darling, do you want a cup of tea or a coffee or something?”

“Just a glass of water please, thanks Mum”

I walked into the lounge to see my father standing up, clutching the back of one of the chairs, his knuckles white. I could see he was angry, like he would place the blame for what had happened squarely at Bucky’s feet, regardless of what I told him. He was ready to throw down with a Super Soldier for hurting his daughter.

I went over and gave my Dad a big hug “It’s ok Dad, I know you’re angry even though you don’t know what’s happened yet, but I’ll be ok. Maybe not straight away, but I’ll be ok.”

“I know Bee” this was his nickname for me since I was little and it made me feel safe and loved.

I sat on the couch and Mum brought in a glass of water for me, carefully putting it on a coaster on the coffee table - she’ll never change.

“So Ruby, are you ok? Are you going to tell us what happened?” Mum asked.

I took a big gulp of the glass of water and hesitated. I’d already pretty much decided how much I was going to tell them, but it was where to start.

“Well, I’m not ready to share everything, suffice to say, some things happened which made me question whether James loved me the way I love him, and it was necessary for me to leave. It wasn’t one thing, it was a few things, and I just need space from him and I had nowhere else to go in the city.”

I had decided not to tell them I was convinced he was cheating on me. I also wasn’t going to tell them the extent of my leaving was permanent. Who knows, I might return to New York one day, once my broken heart was mended.

“I hope I can stay here tonight, I’ll be moving on tomorrow because I wouldn’t put it past him to come here and I don’t want to see him or talk to him right now. So I hope you can respect that and if he calls or comes here, tell him Im not here please?”

“But Ruby, he’ll see your car, he’ll know we’re lying. Just tell us what did he do?”

“Mum, it’s not always black and white that one person did something, sometimes it’s just not enough to love someone, sometimes relationships just don’t work out.”

“Ok love,” she said. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a bath and I’ll get your bed ready for you to just jump in.”

I lay in a lavender scented bubble bath for way longer than I should, my hands and feet were pruny and the water was barely warm, but my whole body was now relaxed. I got out, drained the bath and put on my warm pyjamas and fluffy robe and headed into my old room.

Mum was in there fluffing the pillows and she’d turned down the bed. “Thanks Mum, I appreciate you letting me stay and respecting my decisions about my relationship, or rather the end of it” my voice cracked a little and this was the first sign of tears in all of this.

I knew being here would bring on the waterworks, specially when Mum sat beside me on the bed and put my head on her shoulder and stroked my back lovingly.

I sobbed for probably half an hour on her shoulder. “I’m sorry Mum, your all wet from my tears and now I'm all red, puffy and snotty”

“No worries at all, I hadn’t got ready for bed yet so I will just put these in the wash. You know you always have a bed here, no matter when or why or just for no reason.”

I gave Mum another hug and closed the door behind her as she left. Snuggling under the blankets, I tossed up turning my phone back on but thought I’d be too tempted to read the myriad of messages from Bucky and Steve, so I decided to leave it and not turn it on until the morning.

I didn’t need the alarm, and I knew mum would wake me with a cup of tea at about 7am. I had nowhere to be in the morning so I could afford to sleep in a little.

**********

Bucky

Steve checked the garage and told me her car was gone. At least I knew she was safe in the car.

I sat on the edge of the bed wondering where this all went wrong. What did her goodbye letter mean - she said she hoped I’d find what I was looking for in life and that maybe I already had. I knew I’d been a bit secretive with her lately, but I was pretty subtle about it all so I didn’t think she’d found out what was going on, but what if she had? That could totally explain her leaving and the things she said.

But how would she have found out unless someone had said something. I needed to speak to everyone who knew what I was doing to make sure none of them had let it slip before I could tell her.

**********

I hope you all don't mind me tagging you, I just thought I'd do it for this 2nd chapter, you can let me know if you want me to leave you on the tag list or add you if you're new :)

Taglist: @cjand10 @angstysebfan @psychictazzy76 @lovely-geek @samanthaneedsanap @kentokaze @void-imaginations @iheartsebastianstanstuff

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #OFC (Ruby)#Angst #Abandonment #Talk of cheating #Possible Pregnancy #ozwriterchick #Avengers

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joannaliceevans-fanficblog · 1 year

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You Will Find Me: Chapter 9.

Whoa it's been a hot minute since I wrote about these two! And sorry it's been a while! I had it in my drafts for long time, and I just wasn't happy with it...until now!

Also, this series almost coming to an end, with 4 more chapters left.

I know it's not one of biggest and popular series that I've written. But I love these two none the less, as it was one of my original OG fics.

Anyways, enough of me blabbing!

A big thanks to @hollybee8917 for betaing this!

Frank

It was late in the evening when Frank walked into the Inn. Beth was busy with the front desk, checking in the weekend guests. He looked around the lobby area, Sarah wasn’t anywhere in sight. Sighing, he headed to the restaurant and entered through the double doors. As he walked in, the whole place was in chaos due to the busy night. From there, he could see the bakery in full swing, and his beloved working.

He noticed Sarah’s smile as she laughed with the bakers, helping them make some items. But it quickly disappeared when she looked up from piping whipped cream onto the fresh fruit cake, looking at him for a moment before returning to what she was doing.

Frank would have gone over to her, but he could tell she was still mad. So with one last sigh, he turned and left the Inn. As he gathered his luggage, a taxi came around, stopping to pick Frank up. As the taxi was driving out the driveway, for some reason, maybe hope, Frank turned around thinking that somehow Sarah had a change of heart and ran after him as in those romantic movies they would watch. Slowly though, the Inn was fading away from his sight as the driver continued on. Frank made one last attempt to call her but was sent straight to voicemail. He took a deep breath and left a voicemail.

“I hope we can figure things out and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. We have been through so much together to just let it all go. I will wait for you to come back to me.”

The following morning, Frank arrived at his family home, his parent’s driver, Mr. Davis, pulled into their driveway and opened the car door once he’d parked and shut the engine off. Frank got out to see his mother was standing there.

“Where’s Sarah?” Evelyn asked as Frank walked up to the front. He sighed and looked toward his mother.

“Back at the Inn,” he said and walked into the house.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Evelyn asked, knowing that something did indeed happen before her son came to see her.

Frank paused and turned around, “Nothing-“

“She’s starting to remember everything, am I correct?” Evelyn asked.

“Mother, I came here to help you, not to be interrogated” Frank said, changing the subject.

“I know that and I’m grateful, but you know, you can’t keep that a secret forever. From the beginning I’ve told you to be honest with her -“

“Mother, I can, I will keep it from her. I love her, and she’s-“

“But you’re being selfish. You know she belongs to someone else. You know that-“

“Cut it, mother!” Frank yelled and headed upstairs to his old bedroom.

“Franklin Adler, you can’t hide from this! The truth will eventually come out!” His mother yelled, as the door slammed shut.

Sarah

Beep

The annoying sound of her alarm clock blared in her ear. Moaning, Sarah rolled over, picked up her phone, and swiped the red button. Looking through one eye, the time read 3:30 am. Placing her phone down, Sarah kicked the sheets off and got up. The cold immediately hit her, and she grabbed her robe from the chair in front of her. She wrapped it around her, tying it nice and snug. Yawning once more, Sarah went to the bathroom to do her business.

As she got to the bottom of the stairs, Sarah headed to the bar to make her morning latte. She knew that she was still in her robe, in her nightgown and still looked like sleep had won the battle, but she didn’t care.

“You’re up early.” Sarah heard a familiar voice, causing her to turn around, Sarah smiled at Beth.

“Oh Beth, you know I’m always awake at this time.” Sarah said as she put the first two shots into her cup.

“That’s true, but honey, is everything okay? You seem upset.” Beth asked as she took a seat at the bar. Sarah thought for a moment, debating on if she should tell Betty.

“Frank and I argued last night,” Sarah said quietly.

Beth looked at her, knowing that something else was going on, but at the same time knowing that Sarah wasn't ready to tell the rest. Before Sarah could respond, the front desk phone rang, and Beth left to answer it.

Nat

While Steve took advantage of the boat tours, Natasha was sitting down in the lobby working on research. The kind lady at the front desk told Steve that Frank was out for the rest of the week and that their tour guide would be Lewis.

As Nat stared at her computer screen, she looked out to see that the sun was out amid clear skies. Smiling, Nat closed her laptop, packed everything, and headed out. It was warm as Nat strolled, a familiar voice was heard. As she continued to walk, the voice sounded more like a cry. Nat wanted to ignore it but the more she walked, the louder it got. The moment she got closer, the more familiar it became.

The woman sat on the bench, wiping her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her tight hoping the pain would go away. Nat then took a seat on the bench next to her. Not wanting to intrude, Nat gave her time to collect herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Nat heard her say. Nat noticed that she was looking for a tissue when Nat grabbed a handkerchief in her purse and extended her hand to her. The woman tried to decline her offer, but Nat insisted.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” The woman said as she dabbed her eyes, and Nat smiled.

“It’s not a problem,” Nat said. The two sat in silence for a moment until Nat turned towards the woman.

“You seem to be alone; wanna join me for lunch?” Nat asked. The woman looked at her for a moment and smiled.

“I would like that, but I don’t even know who-“

“I’m Natasha. But my friends call me Nat.” The woman looked at her for a second.

“That’s a pretty name; I’m Sarah.” She said with a smile.

During the walk to the restaurant, Nat asked if she'd been there before, knowing she already knew the answer but needed to play dumb for a bit. Sarah told Nat she was the owner of the Inn. Nat gave a surprised look and apologized.

“Oh, don’t be sorry, Nat, I don’t expect people to know unless they see the website. But I do own this place with my fiancée.” Sarah said she led Nat inside. Nat then watched as she talked to the hostess, bringing them to the outside patio and looking over the beachside. It was a bit chilly, but luckily, the heater was on.

“I have to ask, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have-“

“How did I meet Frank? It’s fine, and I get that question a lot. But to answer your question, Frank saved me. I was involved in a serious car accident, he was driving by. My car was down in a ditch.” Sarah said quietly.

Nat looked at her in shock; then she noticed the scarring on her face. The more Nat looked at her, the more she knew that there was something more to this story. For her car to go down into the ditch? There had to be something that caused it to be that bad, not even Neal remembered what really happened.

“Anyways, enough sappiness; what are you in the mood for?” Sarah asked. Shaking her head, Nat smiled and picked up the menu.

“Well, last night, I had the Salmon Parcells. Oh, this looks good. The Spring Citrus Strawberry Salad.” Nat said. Sarah laughed as she too placed her menu down.

“My sous chef and I made that one. Do you like Feta Cheese?” Sarah asked, making Nat smiled.

“Of course, it reminds me of an old friend I had.” Nat said sadly, and Sarah looked at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Then-“

“No, it’s okay. She’s not gone. We just-she went missing, and I miss her dearly but I know she will come back.” Nat said, smiling through her pain.

Andy

Andy stepped out of the bathroom after a nice relaxing shower. He’d had a long night last night trying to find more information on his wife’s whereabouts. Even being a successful ADA, Andy couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he was at a dead end. Everything was leading him in circles. As he changed, Andy saw the black box on his side of the bed. He knew what it was, he’d placed it there the night he returned to this house. Now and then, he would take it out, and her memories would come flooding his mind.

He sat on the bed, letting everything sink in. Andy looked at the ring and placed it onto his left hand without thinking it out. The moment he had it on, he felt an instant connection: her voice, scent, everything.

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” Andy said out loud.

Beep

His phone rang, disturbing his thoughts. He placed the box down and grabbed his phone from his side table. Steve was on his screen, and Andy picked up right away.

Steve, what’s up? Anything new?

Andy, I do have news. And you’re not going to believe what I found.”

#andy barber x drama #andy barber #joann's you will find me #andy barber fluff #chris evans character fanfiction

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 9 months

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Just finished clear eyes and I ADORED IT!! But I would love to know, how did Orion say the move to NY wasn’t happening - like I know Sirius predicated it and did the pretend convo to James but did Orion call Sirius? And then did Sirius tell everyone? Or did he just phone the house and tell whoever picked up? How did effie and monty and James react? And then following on from that how did remus react when Sirius told him?

I just loved it and it’s consuming my mind now, I loved the potter family with Sirius and regulus so integrated in and it was so cool, i also really enjoyed the Americanness as a non American like monty in particular i was reading it in like a (my version of) southern American accent and every time he said son I died 🫶🫶🫶 sorry for the spam of questions, I’ve asked way way way too much here so no pressure to answer or respond at all!!

hello and thank you for reading!! I'm glad you enjoyed a football fic as a non-american and the non-specific southern accents they all had <3. no need to apologize for the spam questions! one thing about fic writers is we all love to talk about our fics. ask away!

i had no idea that that question of like "but how did new york not happen????" would haunt so many readers so...i'm just going to give a little bonus and write it out <3

Last trip before all your final exams start, bud, I swear.

That's what his Father had said during their last phone call, when Sirius expressed that weekly trips to New York, now that the Football season had come to a close, wasn't exactly helpful for a study schedule and finishing up a school semester. An excuse? Maybe, but Sirius knew it was one that worked. Half of Sirius's closet had been packed and placed into suitcases, and he clung to the handles of both as he and Regulus made their way through the busy baggage claim of the New York airport. Sirius had his phone in his other hand, checking and double-checking for a phone call to tell him where to meet his Dad.

"Slow down," Regulus said from somewhere behind him as Sirius shouldered his way through the crowds, desperate to find any type of breathing room or personal space. But Sirius had a feeling touching perfect strangers would be his norm very soon. Even the buildings were close together here.

"You're s'posed to be the fastest one in the State, I think you can keep up, Reg," Sirius teased, looking over his shoulder to make sure Regulus was actually somewhere close behind him and not lost in Terminal 3. Regulus had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, wheeling a suitcase behind him, and a scowl on his face from all the people who simply couldn't be bothered to say excuse me.

"I just don't know what you're runnin' for. Dad's not gonna leave without us." Regulus told him when he caught up, now that they were outside of the terminal and waiting on the sidewalk for pick-up. Puffs of air ghosted out in front of their faces, warm breath meeting cold air and it didn't take long for Regulus to put his hands inside his coat pockets, shoulders shrugging up around his neck.

"Get's ya places faster..." Sirius returned, looking down at his phone and then back toward the line of cars. It seemed like the sound of the cicadas and birds chirping would be replaced with honking horns and ambulance sirens, and Sirius wasn't sure he was ready for it. Not at all.

Hours later, there had been no phone call. They waited outside on the curb until Sirius's fingers felt like they had frozen in place around the phone. He had called his Father several times, to have it ring. The last time he called, it went straight to the voicemail, and by then they had moved inside to the baggage claim, Black Brothers slumped against a wall, watching as the carousel went around and around.

Flights came and went. People picked up their bags and reunited with loved ones. Sirius and Regulus waited for a phone call, or else a stranger with a sign to appear signaling that someone had remembered they were coming, and were excited to see them.

Sirius checked his watch, and let out a breath through his lips.

"...You go first." Regulus whispered quietly, his head reclined and staring up at the ceiling. Voice strained and Sirius was afraid to look completely at him, knowing there were tears likely streaming down his face.

Hypothetical Freaks.

"...No." Sirius said quietly, shaking his head, "No." Louder. "I'm not playin' that anymore. I'm...I'm not doin' this."

Sirius flipped his phone open and pressed a few buttons before holding it to his ear.

Ring.

Rin--

"Sirius?"

"Hi Mom," Sirius practically choked out, not knowing until that moment how much relief he would feel, just having someone pick up the damn phone.

"Monte, it's Sirius and Reg!" Euphemia called and Sirius couldn't help but smile, imagining her screaming through the house, "Well, hi sweetheart, did you make it--"

"Mom, we're still at the airport," Sirius started, "I've called, I can't even tell ya how many times now, and it rings and it rings and no one answers, and we're stuck sittin' here at a stupid airport, I don't know where to go--I don't have my new stupid address memorized yet or the subway or anythin' and we can't go anywhere, and please just tell me what to do, please." Sirius didn't care that his voice had gone up two octaves the longer he spoke to his Mom; Sirius didn't care that he shook with every word, or that for once he dropped like he had everything figured out in front of Regulus. Nothing was okay, nothing was fine, and Sirius was done pretending it would work out okay.

There was rummaging on the other side of the phone.

"Sirius? You just hold on now, okay?" Fleamont said, "You know I'm not too good with the flights and lookin' at times, so I've got Effie on her phone right now. We'll figure this out, okay?"

"Can we just...come home?"

"We got you, kid. Just hold on."

#xoxo doctor grey #a friday night lights au #clear eyes spoilers

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ecodweeb · 2 years

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EV Rentals with Turo and Hertz: nope, never again

As you may be aware, I justified the purchase of Karen the Kona based on Albert the Audi being out of service for a drivetrain replacement and my husband needing to rent a car to visit his father for his birthday on a weekend I was supposed to be out of town for work. Needless to say the rental experience made him very, very glad that I bought a second car.

This all started out with optimism: he was going to rent an Ioniq 5, which was a potential candidate as “next car” whenever that time came. He rented the car on Turo from a lady who apparently had a fleet of cars with a “driver” who delivers the cars to the renters. This person doesn’t follow directions, as my husband was detailed with photos as to where the car needed to be parked at his work and which charger to plug it into. They ignored all of that and plugged it into a Level 2 charger in the wrong part of the parking lot, meaning the car wasn’t charged sufficiently for him to immediately hit the road when he got off work.

Not like that was going to happen -- the car was delivered with a flat rear tire and he spent over 20 minutes in fleeting daylight to photograph every wheel on the car which had massive curb damage, every scratch, wrinkle, and tear. This car had just over 30,000 miles on it but looked like it had triple that in wear. He was so late coming home to get the dogs that I called him afraid he’d been in an accident of some kind. When he gets home, he plugs the car into our ChargePoint Home Flex 50A charger so it’ll soak up as much power as possible before he hits the road. I got our Ryobi hand held air compressor out and aired all the tires up to the factory spec. The rear tire was over 8lb underinflated -- not good for tire life.

So after rushing about to install the dog cover in the back seat, harness and load the dogs (remember we have a quasi-geriatric who needs help getting into and out of cars and is prone to puking), and load up all his stuff.... he kissed me on the forehead and said goodbye, walking out and leaving his dad’s birthday card and present on the pool table. Oops. This, however, wasn’t going to be the worst of the weekend. He had to stop twice on his way up to put air into that rear tire. The trip is only ~180 miles so every 90 or so he’d have to stop and air it back up. His consumption was low 3′s - which is poor for this vehicle as it should get over 4 on a trip like this - and he rolled up with 6% state of charge (he left with around 90%) and a low tire warning.

Now, on Saturday - the day after he left - I bought the Kona and had every intention of driving it up to his parents house and dropping off the birthday present, however the whole locking the keys in the car at the Greensboro charging stop derailed those plans. He did look at the car and found that it did indeed have a nail in that tire, and had asked us to bring him a tire patch kit - which we couldn’t do. I felt terrible about this, in fact, I moped about it for days.

He did the smart thing and ignored the car until Monday, when he took it to a tire shop. Turns out this thing didn’t have one, but two punctures in it and it was filled with slime where someone used the roadside kit on it already. There is no way this car should have been handed off to him in this condition. This is where things get ugly, fast. He had been calling the owner multiple times and only getting voicemail. He was messaging her in the app and could see that she read his messages but wasn’t responding. So he called Turo and Turo refuses to replace the tire, saying they’d reimburse him if he did it. The tire shop refuses to let the car drive away with that tire on it. Eventually - after about two hours of calling - Turo agreed to send a roadside tow truck to tow the vehicle back to the Raleigh dropoff/return point. John now needed to rent another car to get home.

HIs mom went to the tire shop and picked him up, she’d intended to take him to Enterprise (which he worked at in college). On the way he saw Hertz and that Hertz had a Tesla Model 3 sitting right in front of the lot, so he asked his mom to pull in there. The Tesla actually needed to go back to North Carolina, so they were delighted that he inquired about it. I was less enthused, because I knew he was going to utterly hate the car but at least he could say he’s driven one on a real road trip and could form his own opinion. He loaded up the pups and headed towards home. I called him at one point and it sounded as if he was talking to me in a tunnel, the audio quality of the Tesla was horrible - worse than the Hyundai, our Audi, or really any vehicle we’ve owned with a factory handsfree system. He said that I, too, sounded like I was in a tunnel to him. I’d say perhaps it was a bad connection, but all calls I made were at home over Gigbit Fiber (T-Mobile Wifi calling for the win). I asked him how he liked the car and he said “on paper I thought I’d love it, but it keeps emergency braking in the middle of sweeping bends on US220 and the last time it threw the old dog against the back of my seat, so I can’t use the cruise control system at all.” Well, that’s both unfortunate but also what I expected. We have a friend who lives out that way and is currently stuck with a Model 3 (intended it to be a 3-6mo purchase then flip for $$$ until the used market for Teslas dropped out). He told me that his does the same thing, and that he’s just accepted that he has to manually drive that section of 220 to get to Roanoke.

When my husband got home, he didn’t say he hated the car... but he did say we’d never buy one. We’d ridden in Kyle Connor’s 2018 model on I-95 and both complained about the wind noise, he said that this 2020 model was just as bad as the 2018. He also said that the trim that goes around the passenger seatbelt in the B-pillar would squeak/rattle - and I said hold up now, that was an endearing trait on your Volvos (the “volvo squeak”) and he said yes but that wasn’t loud and border line ear piercing. He then went into the common complaints -- the touch screen is annoying to use, nothing about the car was intuitive, and that the minimal interior was too minimal for him.

He didn’t plug the car in, and I asked him why. He told me that Hertz told him so long as they could move it around the lot that he didn’t need to charge it. I told him we should plug it in because I recalled reading an article from Reddit that Hertz (or someone else renting EVs) had modified their return policy so that if you brought it back with over 70% charge there wasn’t a fueling fee, 30-70% there was like a $50 fee and below 30% was a $100 fee. He wanted to argue that “They said,” and I said “It’s Hertz, do you really want to chance this?” So we plugged it in and let it charge until it was over 75% charged to return it. While we waited the owner of the Ioniq 5 messaged him - not called, messaged - that she’d so sorry, she just got off a 16-hour international flight and wasn’t able to respond. John’s exact words were to her were “If you’re going to be renting vehicles and know you’ll be out of touch on a flight, you should have someone to manage this for you.” He was much more polite than I would have been.

We dropped the Tesla off and didn’t think much about it until a few days later when John was dealing with Turo about being reimbursed for his trip interruption. Turo finally agreed to refund him the cost of the Hertz rental, but they wouldn’t refund anything on the actual Turo rental. He flat out said he’d never rent from Turo again. He then checked his credit card and sees an additional $75 charge from Hertz for his rental. He calls Hertz and they tell him it’s because he returned the car without charging it. He argues, no I did. They’re confused. You used a Supercharger, so that’s why there is the fee. He said no, I plugged it in at my house and charged it above 70% before returning it, keeping in line with the online policy. This call gets escalated, and ultimately they’re told the office issued this charge and that he’d need to take it up with them.

So we have a friend who works at the office we dropped the car off at, and she told us that no his rental was closed out by corporate and gave him a number to call. The person who answered again said well you supercharged it, and he said no I charged it at home. The agent couldn’t seem to understand this and I couldn’t help but grin when he said “Madam, we own 6 EVs and three charging stations at home. I charged it at home before returning it, I did not pay to use a supercharger or anything else.” They say they need to send him to a Tesla specialist, that person again wants to argue that he charged at a Supercharger. Well, after standing his ground they come back and say “oops, sorry, yeah, we’ll reverse this charge.”

At the next run club he saw our friend who works at the office. She said she poked around and saw that the office never closed the rental out when he returned it and had rented the car back out to someone else who did charge at a supercharger and it billed to my husband’s rental. Ultimately this was a comedy of errors that only we could experience.

So, will we rent a car from Turo or Hertz again? Turo’s a hard no - when they were RelayRides I had an account and cancelled it after the Liz Fong-Jones lawsuit. I named their treatment of this vehicle host as the reason I was closing my account, as a result... several years later after they rebranded to Turo, I re-opened my account to rent my BMW i3 to my best friend who took it on a 2800+ mile excursion to Florida before he moved to Colorado. I had to fight because my account is permanently blacklisted from renting card on their platform. I went through many avenues to find out why - it’s not Turo policy to explain why they do things - and the NC Attorney General’s letter to Turo got a written response that was forwarded to me stating that I was deemed high risk due to comments made to customer service and not due to my driving record.

Will I rent from Hertz? Well, we did notice they have Kona Electrics as rentals and since we own that model I’d gladly rent one. However, I’d make sure that I return the car during business hours (we dropped off overnight while they were closed) and ensure my rental is fully closed out and that I do not owe any additional fees. My husband has said he simply refuses to go by car if it’s not his Audi.

#hertz #tesla #model3 #ioniq5 #hyundai #turo #rentalcar #nightmare

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xannerz · 2 years

Text

still cranky but i bitched out a little at the dr and staff so it made me feel a little better :)

#before anyones like 'oh no xan is being mean :(('#for context: i was supposed to have a telemed appt w this clown abt my labs over a month ago #but! the dr was a no show :)#and they did not return my 3 follow up voicemails #and then my primary was like hey! your latest labs - you need a rheumatologist to look at these #and i was like cool! cool! they dont answer my calls #so i had to have my primary call their office to schedule an appt for me like im 5 #bc their office phone is as good as a paper weight apparently #so btwn that + them lagging + no A/C in the waiting room while sunlight is pouring in + 4 hours of sleep nope! im good w being all smiley!!#so no sorry im good!! so good! no smiles from me #ive been going to dr appts all fucking summer im done!!#i usually just clam up and im like 'aw man i get it :(( being short staffed is hard :((' but not when you guys cant even return VMs #abt my labs #THAT YOU ORDERED #xangoeswah

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technowoah · 3 years

Note

Wait imagine a fic where Jack and the reader are long distance or something and when Tubbo and Tommy are doing the man hunt irl the reader surprises Jack.

That would be cute I think 🤔

Just One Livestream

You surprise Jack with a spontaneous visit to the UK, little did you know that they were livestreaming.

- Jack Manifold x gen neutral!reader

- Anon Requested!

⚠︎ swearing, fluff!, not proofread

an// I hope yall enjoy! Much love! And sorry it came out so late I have no inspiration rn but imma get it done! Also I used the difference of American hours to London hours so sorry of

Navigation!

"Love, why are you up early?" Jack asked through the phone.

You two were facetiming eachother as he propped his phone up on his dashboard while he started to drive. It was around 1 am for you and 6 am for Jack. Sadly you two were in a long distance relationship. You had met Jack when you were on a college trip to London to study abroad for 3 weeks. You were sad that you had to leave your home country, but this was a opportunity you couldn't oppose.

During this trip you had found a cafe that you would go to often. The first time you sat at the cafe alone you always noticed it was only you and this other man in the cafe. He was always on his computer and sat by a window, he always came early too, even earlier than you. As the days went on you continued to see him around more and he seemed to notice you as well. You made a note to yourself to always try and show up a tad bit earlier to the cafe to stay around the same time as he did.

You two got to know eachother throughout the three weeks you had to stay in London. The small nods became hellos, and the hellos turned into full on conversation by the window. He had told you his name was Jack Manifold and was kind of surprised when you didn't immediately know who he was. To him it was refreshing not to be immediately noticed based on his appearance. You both had exchanged numbers one day and after each morning you two would text non stop even during your classes. Luckily trying to get to know Jack changed your sleep schedule and because of that you always made it to class on time.

Jack was such an amazing guy to you, but during the first week you had developed a small crush on the man, and he had developed a crush on you too. The second week you two had ventured out onto different territory than the cafe. Jack started to call those small outings after class, dates and you weren't opposed to the dates at all you loved them. The second and third week were mostly dates and the night before you left he asked to be your boyfriend and of course you accepted not knowing the pain of a long distance relationship.

You had to answer his question on why you were up so early. "Yeah- Um, Im up because of you." You chuckled. "You changed my sleep schedule ever since I met you."

"Well you're welcome, because before me I heard you were missing classes." Jack payed attention to the road but still talked to you.

"Because I told you! And I am grateful, but there is nothing to do at one am here." You sighed while you started to walk around your room as you lied to him.

Jack was talking to you while you did a clean sweep around your house to check if you had everything for your trip.

Two weeks ago you had decided to pack your bags and take a trip back to London. Right now your flight will be leaving early in the morning and that's why you are up so early.

You wanted to surprise Jack instead of straight up telling him that you will be in the country. You missed him dearly, and this will be a great way to spend time together instead of seeing eachother across a screen. One of you had to make that sacrafice and that would be you.

While Jack continued to talk you checked everywhere to make sure you arent leaving anything behind.

"What are you doing, darling?" Jack asked and that snapped you out of your trance. "Are you even listening to me? Im hurt." Jack faked being hurt.

You smiled at him and shook your head. "Im sorry I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"

"I was saying, when you were ignoring me, that I'm going to the cafe right now and that we should plan a trip soon. I miss you." Jack confessed and you awed.

"I miss you too Jack! I hopw we can see each other soon." You tried to contain your smile as you hid your surprise.

"Me too."

Your plane finally landed as you let out a sigh of relief. You had collected all of your shit fast so you could finally get off of that horrible plane. Every stereotypical airplane scene happened to you in the hours you were on that plane. You had a child crying behind you with a mother who couldn't keep that child calm, you were sat next to a man who snored the whole ride here and you just felt cramped.

Sadly you couldn't return any of Jack's messages or calls that you saw when you were in the airplane terminal. You tried calling him twice but they both went to voicemail while you rolled your bag through the huge building. Finding yourself outside you ordered an Uber and once you did that your phone began to ring showing Jack's name and picture of you two together on the screen.

You quickly answered the phone. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Jack chuckled. "I called like, 17 times!"

"I know! Im sorry. I was busy." You weren't lying getting a plane and basically leaving early in the morning and arriving in the afternoon in London. "So, what are you doing today?"

"I am hanging out with Tommy and Tubbo at the park! Im picking them up now!" Jack responded and you heard him close his car door.

"Which park?" You asked quickly as you saw your Uber arrive.

Jack started to laugh. "Uh I'll text you the park I guess. Why would you want to know?"

"No reason! I just want to make sure you are safe. Dont make me call 999." You tried to joke around and take the attention off of your question.

"I cant believe you still remember 999." Jack laughed.

"I still do!" You said as you got inside your Uber and gave the driver the directions to your hotel forgetting that Jack was on the other line.

"Wait hotel?" Jack questioned through the phone.

"Hotel? What are you talking about?" You acted oblivious.

"I- I thought you were talking about a hotel." Jack hesitated.

"No!" You tried to cover up your mistake.

"Well Im going to pick up Tommy soon. I'll talk to you later okay? Answer my calls this time!" Jack chuckled.

"I definitely will!"

You had recived the name of the park you were surprising Jack at. You began to walk around the parking lot after you got dropped off and noticed his car sitting there. There were tons of people at the park today and you didn't know where he would be. As you walked on the dirt trails of the park your thoughts took over, what if you made a mistake and should've told Jack that you were here in London and wanted to meet up at the cafe?

You looked at people as they passed by you ok the trail wishing that you had that energy that you had before, thinking that you would find Jack easily when in reality you were in a busy part of the park and he could be anywhere.

When you thought all hope was lost you heard some loud voices on the trail to your right. You were already walking aimlessly through the park and your first instinct was to go left and walk away from the loud voices, but then you heard something.

"Tommy this was a bad idea!"

"I dont think it was!"

You stood in the "intersection" of the dirt trails thinking that you heard those voices right. You rounded the corner and followed right to see Tommy and Jack doubled over, out of breath while Tubbo was still standing up breathing heavily. There were far away from you, but not far away that you couldn't see them clearly.

You began to call out to them. "Tommy! Jack! Tub-"

They quickly turned around and took off running. Confused on why they were doing that you took off running after them trying to tell them to stop. They were yelling and you were yelling and getting weird glances from stangers, and you dont blame them. You're chasing after your boyfriend and his two friends in a quiet public park. You continued to hear their groans of tiredness and their speed started to slow down.

"Jack! Tommy! Wait up!" You yelled out of breath as you slowed down as well.

"We give up! We give up!" Tubbo yelled and came to a complete stop while trying to catch his breath. He turned around to finally face you. "Y/N?!"

"Wait what?!"

"You're here?!" Jack ran up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, rocking you two back and forth.

"I am! And Im our of breath thanks to you three." You said while still hugging Jack.

"M'sorry I thought you were a fan and I took off and they followed suit I guess." Tommy rubbed his forehead.

"A fan?" You questioned and Tommy and Tubbo lifted their phones up gesturing that they were recording.

"We're doing manhunt in real life, darling." Jack kissed your temple and wrapped his arn around your waist, holding you tight.

"Next time look before you run okay." You smiled still out of breath while kissing Jack's cheek.

"Enough with the PDA!" Tubbo yelled still recording you two.

"We havent even started!" Jack yelled back giving you a huge hug. Jack closed the distance between you two and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips while the two boys groaned in disgust.

"I think that's enough streaming for today boys." Tommy sighed.

"Sorry again, love. That won't happen again."

You and Jack walked hand in hand down the streets of London. People had to walk around you two because you were basically taking up the whole sidewalk and you weren't letting go of his hand anytime soon.

"It better not! I dont want to run after you again." You smiled as you bumped shoulders.

"And you wont have to!" He smiled back at you as you two continued to walk and people dodged the two of you.

"Have you ever thought of moving here?" Jack asked out of nowhere.

"I have actually! On the plane ride here I thought of leaving and moving to London." You thought about it constantly. It was nice being close to Jack and it was a major risk.

"Well wherever you're ready, I'll be here for you." Jack kissed your cheek. "And I wont run away when you come here!"

You two finally made it to your destination which was the cafe you two met at. It was busy at this time because it was the middle of the day and not the beginning. You two entered and took your seats by the window where you two usually sat.

"I love you. I missed this." Jack said.

"I love you too! And of course I missed this. Maybe you can show me more places around London and convince me to stay longer." You gave him a proposal.

"Longer than what?" Jack asked.

"Four weeks." You grinned.

Jack grabbed both of your hands and kissed the back of them. "Hell yeah. I get you for more than four weeks?!"

"That's if you show me places to stay longer." You teased.

"Okay babe. You like ferris wheels?"

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Content/Warnings: mentions of abandonment, unwanted sexual advances (outside character to spencer), swearing, mentions of cheating (doesn’t actually happen), happy ending

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Chapter 10

You woke up with Spencer’s arm lazily draped over your waist. Rain was pitter-pattering against the window.

You rolled over and cuddled yourself into Spencer’s chest.

“Good morning,” he hummed contently.

“G’morning,” you sleepily mumbled.

“Is my little angel tired from last night?” he asked.

“Very,” you nodded, “Do we have to pick Callie up from her sleepover?”

“She’s staying there until after her soccer practice. I have to go back to my house and get some more clothes to bring over here but other than that, my day is wide open,” he gently stroked your hair.

“I just have two appointments later in the day so I’ll have to go into the office this afternoon,” you yawned.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” Spencer tried to shift out from underneath the covers.

“Or…” you wrapped your arms around him once again, “We can get breakfast on the way to your house and then I get some extra cuddle time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Um hello?” Spencer asked as you both approached the woman standing at his front door.

She turned around and Spencer’s eyes practically bulged out of his head.

“Spencer!” she ran to hug him.

Spencer refused to unclasp his hand from yours, making it very clear he had no intention to return the hug.

“What are you doing here, Austin?”

Austin. This was Callie’s mother. The woman who abandoned them both.

“I’m in between jobs right now, figuring out my purpose in life, you know? I just took a bus and ended up back here again. Got me thinking I should stop by and check in,” she smiled like this was just a casual visit from a friend.

“You wanted to stop by after 11 years and no goodbye?” Spencer asked incredulously.

“I could also use a place to crash for a few days. How’s Camellia doing? Does she still do that thing where she twitches her little nose? I always loved that.”

“Don’t act like you know my daughter at all,” Spencer seethed.

“Spencer,” you got in between them, putting your hands on his chest to calm him down.

You turned to Austin, “One second.”

You led Spencer back down the steps, “Look, I know what she did was very wrong but she did give you the greatest gift of all, Callie, so maybe you could invite her over for dinner and she could just sleep on the couch for the night?”

“Just one night?” Spencer confirmed.

“If you don’t do this now, Callie will probably just track her birth mother down later in life without you there to supervise. Lots of my past foster kids have and it doesn’t always end well.”

“Fine,” Spencer relented, heading back up the front steps.

“You can stay with us for one night,” Spencer emphasized, “I will be watching you the whole time you’re with Callie.”

“Deal!” She clapped her hands excitedly.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, opting to not give a label.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied with a sickeningly sweet smile.

She loaded her few bags of belongings into the back of the car as you and Spencer grabbed some more of his clothes from inside.

Spencer opted to drive so you headed to the passenger side. Austin grabbed the car door handle at the same time as you.

“Oh I’m sorry, were you going to sit here?” she feigned politeness.

“Yeah, I was,” you narrowed your eyes.

Spencer rolled the window down, “Austin, there’s plenty of room in the back.”

“Oh, of course!” she nodded enthusiastically.

You buckled as Spencer placed his hand on your thigh, in view of Austin. You settled in for the most awkward car ride of your life.

“Can’t you cancel? Please don’t leave me here with her,” Spencer begged as you got ready to go in for work.

“I would if they were just check-ups but Timmy has a rash I need to check out and I need to write a script so Jessica can get a refill on her medication. If you really don’t want to be alone with her, come with me,” you replied.

“I would but I also don’t trust her enough to leave her alone in your house,” Spencer sighed.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” you kissed him, “An hour and a half tops.”

“What do I even say to her?”

“You don’t have to say much. You’re already being generous enough to let her see Callie for the night. Just make dinner while I’m gone. You could offer her a bath or something if you want her to get out of your hair,” you suggested.

Spencer had offered Austin a bath so he didn’t have to deal with the awkward silence while you were gone.

He got to work cooking Rossi’s famous pasta for dinner, dicing onions and boiling the water. He would check the clock every minute and started a countdown in his head of when you would return home.

He heard the water drain from the tub upstairs.

Fuck, he thought, at least 10 more minutes until you’re home.

Austin sauntered down the stairs after her bath in just her bra and underwear, wearing one of Spencer’s unbuttoned dress shirts over top.

Spencer’s hands flew to cover his eyes, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hopefully you,” she smirked.

“I have a girlfriend, well it’s not official yet but I am very much committed to her,” Spencer stated.

“If it’s not official,” she drew closer, “Then, this wouldn’t be cheating.”

“I don’t care if it’s technically not cheating. I only have interest in Y/N,” Spencer spoke firmly, his hands still over his eyes.

“Just once, Spence…for old time’s sake,” she whispered in his ear.

“No,” Spencer backed up further into the pot of sauce he was cooking for dinner, spilling a bit of the hot liquid on himself.

Spencer opened his eyes at the burning sensation, “Now look what you did,” he sighed frustratedly, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt, “I have to soak this before it stains. I can’t believe you. Why would you think this is okay?”

“Just go wash your shirt, Spencer,” Austin rolled her eyes.

Spencer, being so angry, didn’t hear the door open.

“I’m not finished with you, Austin,” he stared her down.

He heard a squeak from the other side of the room. You were standing there, fresh tears running down your face.

Spencer looked down at his unbuttoned shirt, Austin’s lack of clothes, and recalled the last thing he said.

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like-” he tried to run after you but you were already out the door, slamming it behind you.

Spencer scrambled outside to where you were starting your car back up again.

“Y/N,” he frantically tapped against the car window, “Please let me explain.”

You didn’t even turn to face him, shifting the car into reverse and peeling out of the driveway.

Spencer stormed back inside, grabbing Austin’s bags, “Get the fuck out of Y/N’s house and get the fuck out of my family’s life.”

“But Callie isn’t even home yet,” she argued.

“Good,” Spencer yelled, “Because it took you less than 3 hours for your true colors to show again. You care about nothing! You didn’t want anything to do with us then so you don’t get to have anything to do with us now,” Spencer escorted her towards the door, “I will not hesitate to file for a restraining order if I see you near me, Y/N, or my daughter ever again.”

“Can I at least change?” she asked as Spencer threw her bags on the front step.

“You were plenty comfortable showing me who repeatedly told you no so might as well show the whole neighborhood,” he slammed the door in her face.

How dare he? In your house. Probably in your bed.

You went back to your office because Spencer couldn’t even leave you the dignity to retreat back to your own safe space that was now tainted with bad memories.

Luckily, you had a few pairs of spare clothes that you always kept in the office and a fully made cot in case a patient needed to rest. You settled yourself on the bed, letting the tears begin to fall again, drenching your pillow as you let sleep take over.

“Please pick up please please please,” Spencer begged.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I can’t come to the phone right now-”

Spencer hung up and hit his head against the steering wheel. He had already said what he needed to say in the previous 20 voicemails, followed by the additional 30 calls he made every 15 minutes, hoping you would pick up.

“At least you’re not blocked?” Callie tried her hardest to put a positive spin on it.

She didn’t know the full story, coming home after soccer practice to see her dad crying on the couch. Spencer told her that her mother had come back and hurt Y/N’s feelings badly because that was essentially what happened, right?

Spencer had been replaying the situation over and over in his head. Yes, it looked bad from the outside perspective but he didn’t think he actually did anything wrong. If only he could find Y/N, explain it to her and have her believe him.

“Have fun at school,” he hugged her goodbye before she hopped out of the car.

“Remember to tell Mrs. Roberts to drop you off at our place, not Y/N’s,” he reminded her.

“Our house is going to feel so dull though. It’s always cold, did you notice that? We don’t even have a cat,” she whined.

“The least we can do is give Y/N her space to process,” Spencer told her, “If she’s ready for us to come back into her life eventually, we’ll gladly take it.”

“If?” Callie grimaced, “How bad did my mother mess this up?”

“I’d rather not say,” Spencer simply stated.

“That sounds promising,” Callie sighed, “Bye, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Could you give this note to Doctor Y/L/N?” Spencer asked the receptionist.

Y/N,

Your house is cleared out. Despite your previous statement, it is obvious we have overstayed our welcome at the moment. I hope if you give me a chance to explain, it will ease your pain and in turn, mine. I swear to you, angel, nothing happened. I can tell the full story whenever you are ready and I hope you can hear the truth in my voice.

Yours,

Spencer

“Jake Gomez?” he heard you call out.

He turned around to see a little kid hopping out of his seat in the waiting room and following you into the clinic area. You made brief eye contact with him and you looked so broken. It took everything in him not to run up and beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

Callie had a big soccer game coming up and you really wanted to go but you also really didn’t want to see Spencer.

Sure, you got his note but he could easily have lied. It was hard to argue with what you saw right in front of your eyes.

You pulled your hair back into a low bun and wore a hood pulled over a hat as well as sunglasses. You made sure to blend in with the crowd of moms.

You saw Spencer about 2 rows of bleachers down, leaning against the fence. God, why did he have to look so good in jeans?

Despite your sunglasses, one of the moms caught the subject of your stares.

“I’m pretty sure he’s single too,” she nudged you, “If I didn’t have a husband, I would be all over that fine piece of ass.”

You just nervously nodded in response.

The game had gone into overtime. The teams had to take turns shooting on the opposing goalie’s net. Each team must take 5 shots with 5 different players and whoever makes the most wins.

Callie was put in the stressful position of needing to make the shot to win the game for her team. She took her time, lining up the shot and stretching out her legs.

Callie ran in for the kick, faking left and when the goalie dived, she kicked right.

“Score!” the ref announced.

“Yes, Callie!” you stood and screamed in excitement, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

After the initial shock wore off, you realized Spencer was staring directly at you.

You grimaced, “Um excuse me, sorry, excuse me,” you repeated as you tried to quickly get out of the aisle.

“Y/N, please wait!” Spencer ran after you.

“I came for Callie, Spencer, not you,” you huffed, slowing to a walk because the parking lot was up a hill and you weren’t about to sprint the whole way.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain. I miss you so much, it hurts,” he pleaded.

“Oh you’re hurt?” you asked incredulously, “I’m sorry that me leaving after I found you cheating on me hurt you.”

“I didn’t cheat!” Spencer insisted, “She was coming on to me but I rejected her every single time. I was yelling at her for how inappropriate her behavior was, that's what you walked in on.”

“You were yelling at her with your shirt off?”

��I had my eyes covered at first so I wouldn’t see her indecent but I accidentally backed into the sauce and I didn’t want to stain my shirt.”

You sat there in silence, processing his story.

“Please say something. I’ll do anything to make it right, I need you back.”

A tear fell from Spencer’s eye which was followed by many more.

“I think your story is just crazy enough that I believe you,” you spoke.

“Really?” Spencer asked.

“Really,” you outreached your arms for a hug.

Spencer dove into your embrace like it was his air. He cried into your chest for 10 minutes until he finally met your eyes again.

“I’m sorry, I just thought I was never going to get to do this again,” he squeezed you tighter, “I love you, Y/N, and I want you to be my girlfriend. I actually want you to be more than my girlfriend someday but this is a good start for now.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him, “And just curious, what did you have in mind for the future?”

“I’m going to make you my wife someday,” he grinned.

A/N: one chapter left of this series! 🥺❤️

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @ssacalumsg0lden @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @mggs-sidehoe @rexit-mo @hufflepuffhaze @xoxospencerreid @wifeyprentiss @reidsbookclub @spencersrose @pinkdiamond1016 @muffin-cup

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme @nani-2305 @obsessivelysearching @fantasynerd09 @bvttercupbby @britishspidey @ladyravenclaw @belledawnidk @annesauriol @smokey102 @lady-himbo @kaitieskidmore1 @westanspencerreid @manuosorioh @haylaansmi @unhea1thy0bsessions @meganskane @lovergirl24 @queenariesofnarnia @asexual-booknerd (additional tags in reblog)

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #cm fanfic #cm fic

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free--therapy · 2 years

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30 ways to set boundaries: a guide for people pleasers

Posted on November 20, 2018

An important note for my fellow recovering people-pleasers: all of the following things are 100% ok. Seriously. They may make you uncomfortable at first because you’re used to letting people ignore your needs, but OMG, I promise you’re allowed to set boundaries. Not only that, but they’ll seriously improve your life.

Keep in mind that you don’t need to use all of these techniques. Instead, cherry-pick the ones that resonate with you. Personally, I tend to start with the more subtle approaches, and only turn the dial up when needed. Here are 30 ways to set better boundaries in your life:

1)Prioritize the stuff that keeps you happy, healthy, and sane. Seriously. This is more important than helping your buddy move, talking to your Mom about her tuna salad, or returning your clients email within 26 seconds.

2) Say no to the stuff that doesn’t interest you and explain why you’re saying no.

3) Or say no and don’t bother offering an explanation. The truth is, you don’t need to explain yourself if you don’t want to. This is one of my favorite moves.

4) Or say no but respectfully affirm the other person’s desire. I do this all the time, especially during negotiations. A prospective client recently asked for a payment plan that I don’t offer. I said, “I understand the desire to breakup the payments, but unfortunately that’s not an option. I understand if this is a deal breaker for you.”

5) Say no by explaining that you need a bit of time to focus on your physical or mental health. The cool part here is that if you’re ducking out something to avoid a person or situation you dislike, saying no is a form of prioritizing your health.

6) If you’re struggling to say no in the moment say, “Let me think about that and get back to you.” Then spend a day or two figuring out how you want to let the other person down, and say, “no.” If the person is particularly aggressive or unreasonable, just send a text.

7) Send the call to voicemail.

8) Wait for a few hours (or days) before returning a call / text / email. This is especially useful for imbalanced relationships where one person wants to be much closer than the other.

9) When dealing with difficult people, inform them of the decision you’ve made instead of asking for permission or input. In other words, say, “Though I’ll really miss you and the rest of the family during the holidays, I’m going to stay in California this year” instead of, “Would it be ok with you and the family if I stayed in California for the holidays?”

10) Take a mental health day where you ignore everything you want to ignore (including work) and focus on charming yourself. Personally, I like to binge watch Impractical Jokers, go for a walk without my phone, get takeout for dinner, and then turn my electronics off and read.

11) There are a lot of people and activities that are great for an hour but unbearable for a day. Spend time with these people and things for only as long as you enjoy them.

12) For people who are particularly difficult and also unavoidable, only agree to hang out with them in the settings where you can tolerate them. This can be a large group, a small group, one-on-one, in places where it’s hard to interact (like a movie), only when they’re sober, whatever.

13) If someone is really bothering you, block their email address, phone number, and social media. If that feels too extreme, change the settings on your social media accounts so that you stop receiving updates about them without unfriending them. On the other hand, if they’re really bothering you or making you feel threatened, consider getting a restraining order.

14) One of my favorite tricks: when someone does something that you really like, point it out or give them a compliment. For some people, reinforcing positive behavior is deceptively effective.

15) This is an important one: when someone hurts you, regardless of their intent, let them know. Say, “Hey, I doubt this was your intent, but when you did x, y, and z, it hurt.”

16) Likewise, if something is making you uncomfortable, let the other person know. You can do this by saying, “Hey I know this kinda awkward, and I doubt it’s your intent, but when you do X it really makes me uncomfortable.”

17) Just change the damn topic.

18) Or, a bit more subtly: refuse to engage with topics you don’t like. Often when people have opinions I disagree with or don’t want to discuss, I’ll listen to what they say, but refuse to respond. I’ll transition into a different conversation by saying, “That’s interesting. On a different note…”

19) If that fails, say, “For my own sanity I need to stop talking about this. Tell me about…” and then bring up any other topic or question that is likely to cause less tension. Yes, it may be awkward for a minute or two as you find the groove again, but that’s way better than endlessly suffering in silence. And if the person refuses to change the topic, it’s cool to just get up leave. Seriously.

20) Respect other people’s boundaries. More than that, thank them for setting the boundary in the first place. You can do this by saying, “Thanks for letting me know,” when they tell you how they prefer to be treated. Respecting and reinforcing other people’s boundaries is likely to make it easier for you to respect and reinforce your own.

21) If something has been on your mind for a long time consider talking about it. I know that leaning into these conversations can be hard. It’s also tends to be worth it. Disclaimer: when you do choose to have a hard conversation, think about your motives. If you’re doing it just to hurt the other person or to play some sort of power game with them, don’t waste your time. More on hard conversations here.

22) If you struggle to enforce boundaries for yourself (and lord knows I did… and sometimes still do) ask for help. If there’s a particularly difficult boundary that you need to enforce, ask a friend to be there with you during or right after the conversation. You can also ask friends to help hold you accountable.

23) An advanced move: discuss boundaries and expectations ahead of time. This tends to make more sense in some situations than others, specifically: forming new business partnerships, dealing with roommates, starting a project with a new client/boss/contractor, beginning a new phase of life, or the initial stages of love, sex, and romance.

24) Simply refuse to share parts of your life with people who you don’t want to be close to. There are whole chapters of my life story that many of the people in my circle will never find out about. The simple truth is that I just don’t want to share certain parts of myself with them.

25) Don’t respond to work emails or texts on the weekend unless you really want to.

26) Only take unscheduled calls when you’re easily available and excited to talk to the other person. While I somewhat enforce this with my friends and family, I super enforce it with my professional relationships.

27)You know those stupid, “Hey we should totally connect! When are you free for coffee?” or “I’d love to pick your brain – what’s your phone number?” type meeting requests from complete strangers? Unless you’re excited to meet the other person, just ignore them. I mean, seriously, has anything good ever come from one of those? A related approach to these issues is to charge for your time.

28) Memorize and use the phrase, “I’d rather not answer that.”

29) While you’re at it, memorize the phrase, “I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” too.

30) After you’ve set a boundary that was hard for you, give yourself a treat. Though it can be something tangible, like a chocolate cake, it doesn’t have to be. I’ll usually go for a walk around the block without my phone to process the conversation and let the good feelings sink in

What to do when people can’t take a hint…

You’ll notice that most of these techniques are subtle. As long as you’re consistent, you can easily set boundaries for 95% of the people in your life like this. They’ll be able to read the social cues and adjust accordingly.

But then, there’s always that damn 5% who just can’t get with the program. In these instances, I suggest clearly spelling out the boundary and the repercussions of violating it. If they still steam roll you, just let them go.

When I lived in DC there was a guy who used to make inappropriate comments about my girlfriend. No matter how clearly I tried to communicate, he wouldn’t stop.

Then, one day I woke up to a text from him discussing her appearance. I picked up the phone, called him, and said, “I’m fucking sick of hearing your comments about N*. I don’t give a shit about what your intention is. If I hear one more remark from you her, I’m going to stop talking to you entirely and explain to everyone in our circle why I did that. The funny part is that your reputation is so fucked up, I doubt I’ll even have to show people the text you just sent me for them to believe what happened. Do you understand me?” He tried to explain that he didn’t mean anything by it. I kept interrupting him and saying, “No. I asked you a simple question. Do you understand me?” When he finally said “Yes” I said “Good” and hung up.

The next time I saw him, he offered a sincere apology. And while I don’t see him much anymore he’s been nothing but respectful to me ever since.

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hockeywhy · 4 years

Text

caught in the middle (1); m. barzal

SYNOPSIS: For the sake of your friend’s wedding with Tito, you and Mat agree to maintain the facade of still being the happy couple everyone sees you as. But the act comes with its consequences, one more taxing than the other. WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 11.2k A/N: I am so excited for this because it contains some of the tropes I enjoy seeing in fics, and I was dying to also put out some new content as opposed to only reposting my old writing. I wish I wrote this when I was still decent at doing the thing, but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read that makes you look forward to the next part! Title is based off Alexander 23′s Caught in the Middle which is such a good song and I really recommend. Sections in italics represent flashbacks.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“We’re getting married!”

You gasped, bringing both hands to cover the lower half of your face as your jaw dropped at the announcement. It shouldn’t be so surprising – you would’ve bet even your most prized possession that this was bound to happen at some point eventually – but knowing this was actually now a sure thing sent a thrill through you. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and in place of it, your expression mirrored that of your best friend’s: the wide grin, the bright eyes and of course, the giggles of sheer excitement as soon as the news sunk in. Elise was glowing and next to her, Tito embodied the idea of what the world’s proudest man would look like.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, and Elise burst into laughter, not hesitating to jump out of her seat at the same time you did so that the two of you could embrace. Among your squeals and giggles, you could faintly make out the sound of hands being clapped, then caught sight of Mat and Tito hugging. Over Elise’s shoulder and over Tito’s, you and Mat exchanged smiles and you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth as soon as he winked at you. “Congratulations!” you said as soon as you broke apart, though the two of you still held hands. Immediately, your gaze fell down to her hand where a ring now rested, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t taken notice of it earlier. “Just—when? How? Where? Who else knows?”

“We don’t have a date or venue set yet, but we wanted you and Mat to be the first to know,” Elise informed you as soon as you took your seats again.

“We have a favour to ask from both of you,” Tito supplied. As soon as he said it, you felt Mat’s hand wrap around your own and the two of you exchanged a brief look during which he squeezed your hand gently, before diverting your attentions back to the soon-to-be newlyweds.

Newlyweds. The immensity of the word sent a discrete shiver down your spine.

“I can’t imagine asking this of anyone else: I want you to be my best man,” Tito directed at Mat.

“You shouldn’t even think of asking this of anyone else,” Mat responded immediately, and the two shook hands on it. You couldn’t help but think that if they weren’t as comfortable as they were now, they’d probably hug again, do their typical pats on the back or fist bump as they usually did, but Elise’s head now rested on Tito’s shoulder and Mat’s hand was so warm, so firm atop your own.

“Be my maid of honour, please?” Elise asked. “I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you and Mat as best man and maid of honour. We’ll return the favour of course,” she added playfully.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you warned without hesitating because after all, you had no reason to – and you knew Mat would agree with you.

Although the two of you hadn’t touched on the subject yet, there was an unvoiced knowledge shared between you that eventually, this would also be you. Eventually, Mat would ask you and your heart would grow and your soul would warm, and you would say yes. Yes, yes, yes.

As you all settled down to hear a replay of how Tito popped the question and Elise accepted the ring, Mat’s thumb began caressing the back of your hand. Though the gesture wasn’t a novelty, you couldn’t help but take notice of the way your heart fluttered each time he seemed to linger more on your ring finger. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a ring wrapped around it but neither of you were in a rush: you simply waited for the right time to take your relationship to a point in which it would become a forever thing, fully confident it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ but rather, ‘when’.

This was anything but the right time.

You frown as you cast a glance down at the phone resting on your lap, eyes narrowing a little at the name which brought the display to life for the second time in the space of less than a minute. You click the side button twice, silencing the vibrations of it and from your side, your colleague leans in to whisper to you.

“You can take it if it’s urgent. I’ll fill you in afterwards.”

“Thanks,” you whisper back. “I think it can wait until the meeting wraps up though.”

Luke gives you a well, if you’re sure look as he leaned back in his chair and you flash him a grateful smile.

Still, it is difficult for you to settle comfortably in your seat again and much to your chagrin, you find yourself crossing and uncrossing your legs as if the call had sent some sort of signal to your entire body kickstarting jitteriness you can honestly do without. Not long after you find some comfort and energy to draw yourself back to the present, your phone buzzes again – only once this time, indicating a message.

I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

Fuck, you curse inwardly, locking the phone in frustration. As quietly as you can, you gather your notebook and work tablet then lean in towards Luke who met you halfway. “Have to run but let me know if I miss anything important.”

“At the current rate, I wouldn’t count much on it but will do anyway,” he states as quietly as he can and the two of you exchange sly, conspiratorial smiles before you excuse yourself quickly and very quietly while making a swift exit.

Internally, a string of curses follow without a break in between, and you have to physically bite down on your lip out of sheer fear one might unconsciously slip out. If anyone would be in your shoes, though, they wouldn’t blame you for it. You are the type of person to stick closely to any plans and agreements made, so the fact that he just chose to turn up so unexpectedly doesn’t sit right with you. Not anymore, that is. Besides, you had both agreed to do this after your workday ended as opposed to midday and definitely not in this place. Now, you have to brace yourself for coping with a foul mood on top of whatever else the rest of the day would throw at you.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Rachel announces quietly in a sing-song voice from behind the reception desk as you approach. She doesn’t bother masking the giddiness in her tone and you struggle to work up as genuine of a smile as you can when she nods her head towards the waiting area.

“Thanks, Rach.”

“Bet he must be so happy your redeployment to the Baltimore offices was cut short so quickly,” she coos.

“Sure is. We’re still on for tonight?” you ask quickly in an attempt to drive attention away from the subject before she can try to lead into it too far for your own comfort at the moment.

Rachel’s smile falters a little, her expression somewhat quizzical. “Don’t you want to postpone so you could spend some time with him? You only just got back yesterday, after all.”

You swallow uncomfortably before shrugging. “We’ve got plenty of time to do that. So tonight, okay? I’ll catch you later.”

“Your call. See you then, Y/N!”

You only had just a split second to brace yourself for what is ahead of you, so you draw in a breath then slowly exhale it as discreetly as you can while cutting your way across the lobby. Since agreeing to this meeting, you prepared yourself as best as you could, imagining every single scenario and devising the appropriate plan for it: from the way you presented yourself to what you said, you had a mental plan for everything including a few backups just in case. The only thing you hadn’t factored in, apparently, was how little was under your control and you hated that. Each step you take made you feel less and less prepared for what is ahead, and the thought rattles you. If you were swift enough on your feet, you could just about make a quick turn and dip into the hallway leading to the visitor restrooms. All you need is just a few more seconds. A little alone time for you to run over your lines in your head.

Except—

Mat looks up at the same time you take a step sideways, ready to bolt towards temporary safety. His eyebrows rise a little as if surprised by the sight of you, but you refuse to appear outwardly deflated by the turn of events. Instead, you square your shoulders, tip your head back a little and arch an eyebrow. You can do this. You note he is dressed casually, and his hair is pushed back underneath a black cap.

Unless there was a change in schedule, Thursdays were scrimmage days.

Your jaw clenches ever so slightly as you recall that with so much ease. Then again, you basically built up a collection of information that was practically helpful or useful to exactly no one over the course of the past few years. It’ll probably take just as much or maybe more to replace that with something different, so you try cutting yourself some slack whenever you are willing to.

“I thought we agreed on five thirty,” you state coolly, pitching your voice at just the right tone to also express surprise.

Mat pushes up from the armchair, returning whatever magazine he’d picked up back on the nearby glass table. “Sorry, I tried calling earlier this morning to ask if we can reschedule but it went straight to voicemail.”

Oh. You mentally curse yourself for not charging your phone as soon as you made it home from the airport the previous night or bothering to check the voicemail message you’d been notified of once it did begin charging earlier this morning at your desk.

“They rescheduled the viewing of the new arena for this evening, and I was in the area, so I thought I’ll drop by just in case,” Mat continues, throwing a cursory glance around the place though to you, it seemed more like a way of having a break from the eye contact. You don’t complain; you welcome that.

You open your mouth, ready to berate his poor timing but even you could admit you carry some fault here too. Only a little. You bite down lightly on the tip of your tongue, before nodding towards the seats though you didn’t wait for Mat; you sit, deciding he could make up his own mind if he wanted to follow or not.

“How was Baltimore?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence while settling in the same armchair he previously occupied.

“Mat,” you say, hoping it comes across as more of a warning than a plea. You can’t deal with small talk and a part of you thinks that’d make the entire deal even more difficult to go through with. He presses his lips together into a thin line and you take that as your sign to continue. “Elise told me she’d like us to be at the venue a day in advance of the rehearsal dinner if we can. I’ve already arranged my leave for that, so it’s not a problem for me. I’m planning on making my way there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“We can go together then. I can pick you up after work.”

“There’s no need—”

“Y/N.” The sharpness of his tone catches you off guard and you can swear Mat was equally surprised by that, though only for the briefest of moments. He slides forward a little in the seat almost as if he is more than ready to leave but Mat has never been one to back down so easily and you doubt any of that changed during the course of the past three months or so. “You were the one who insisted we go through with this and I’m trying. I really am, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. So please. Let’s just put everything to the side, do what we need to do and then it’s done.”

Done. Like it is a task, like it is something you needed to cross off a to-do list, scrunch it up then trash it.

The finality of the word is so heavy that it feels as if it had managed to knock out all the air in your lungs. You and Mat were running headfirst towards a fork in the road, and deep down you knew that was truly it. If until now the two of you have been dancing around each other, playing pretend as if you were kids living in a world of fantasy, you know that eventually, you have to let light shine on the truth: whatever lay ahead, you and Mat could no longer walk the same paths. It is just a matter of admitting it not only to yourselves, but also to the people you were lying to.

Lying for, you prefer.

Defeated, you slump in your own seat a little, legs crossing and fingers tapping lightly against the back of your notebook. “Be at my place by two. I’ll have everything that I need ready the night before so we won’t need to wait around.” A pause, and then, “how’s Tito?”

Mat lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Excited. Nervous. It’s the only thing he talks about in the locker, outside of it, on ice and off ice. How’s Elise?”

“Same deal with her. I never knew there were so many shades of blue before, but I’ve been proven wrong before.”

A pause follows that could easily be attributed to the group of people rushing into the building and allowing noise from the street outside to filter in while the doors were kept open, but you can tell there is more to it than that if you are to go by the shift in Mat’s expression. His expression changes and you find you can’t quite read into it or guess what could be going on through his head. You try not to focus much on the little voice inside your mind that was bothered by it but find it takes a considerable amount of effort to do so. Force of habit, you conclude.

“You don’t say,” Mat finally responds. There is a hint of accusation in his tone. Or regret. Maybe both.

Your lips press together firmly, a light frown forming on your face but chose to let that slide. Not only is the lobby of your workplace the least suitable place to have an argument about the two of you, but you find that even those short moments of seeing Mat face to face months after you called it quits appears to take a toll on you. You feel tired, worn out and willing to be the first one to back down for once.

It is cruel irony that a big red neon EXIT sign is visible from the corner of your eye.

You release a quiet, long sigh then stand up from the seat. “Well, I guess we’re done here? I do have another meeting to prepare for, so…” You trail off, already backing away a few steps.

Mat opens his mouth as if ready to say something else but promptly presses his lips together, deciding against it. He gives a swift nod of his head then stands up. It’s then you notice the two Styrofoam cups in front of him and the neon EXIT sign imprinted in your mind starts flashing temptingly at you. Mat is a step ahead. He holds out one of the cups towards you and you are ready to tell him off for it, but he cut in.

“Thought I wouldn’t drop by empty handed.” When you don’t make a move to accept it, his eyes briefly peek behind you. “Rachel’s all eyes this way, by the way,” he informs you and a brief glance over your shoulder confirms Mat hasn’t been lying.

As soon as you turn to look towards the reception desk, Rachel grins, waves quickly at you then turns back to her computer screen. Begrudgingly, you accept the cup of coffee and force a tight smile.

“See you soon,” you say by way of greeting and didn’t wait to hear a response from Mat.

It isn’t until you scan your pass to cross the security barriers and make a turn out of sight that you take a sip from the drink and almost immediately wish you didn’t. It’s your order to a T. The two of you even brought a coffee machine that would let you replicate it on days when you didn’t feel like leaving the comforts of your apartment, especially days when Mat didn’t need to get up early for practices or scrimmages or evening games. It stayed with Mat when you left and the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, despite the gentle sweetness of the beverage.

Without thinking twice, you throw the cup in the nearest trash can.

As soon as your order is set on the table, you ignore the basket of fries and reach straight for your glass to take a long sip from the straw, letting out a content sigh as soon as you felt satiated enough.

“Long day,” you state in response to Rachel’s raised eyebrows but she seems to accept that by raising her own glass. You clink yours against hers, take a smaller sip then set it back down on the table. “What time do you think you’ll make it over to the hotel?”

“Well, I was thinking of trying to get there by midday on the day of the rehearsal dinner but it’s starting to look more like late afternoon. I’m…” She trails off, and you can just about pick up on her hesitation and the way her gaze shifts over to the side momentarily as if avoiding something or considering whether to continue that. You move in your seat, peeling your back away from the plush backrest to lean in a little closer.

“You’re…” you trail off, voice peaking just a little into a question in an attempt to prompt her to continue.

Rachel takes a deep breath in, shoulders visibly drooping and when she looked back at you, she did so with a look that could only reflect…shame? Embarrassment?

“Luke and I are sort of thinking of coming along together.” At the sight of your widened eyes, she quickly adds, “just as friends! We’re still working out through a few things and we’re taking it slow. As in, much, much slower than the first time around.”

“No way! That’s… Rach, that’s so good. I’m happy for you both, seriously.”

You find that you truly believed that, though it wasn’t a surprise to you. You had introduced Rachel to Luke while she visited you in Baltimore and at the time, he worked with you there also. Initially, you didn’t think much of it - you simply invited her to come along to a few after work drinks and the two kicked it off easily that night. Very easily apparently, because as the night started coming to an end, Rachel prompted you to go ahead without her. Ready to say you weren’t going to leave her own her own, you shortly found out exactly why: you watched with plenty of amusement and fascination as she and Luke climbed into a taxi together and whizzed off to his place, undoubtedly. That was pretty much their start and continuation. Her visits to Baltimore were more frequent and though you were seeing her often enough, it definitely wasn’t as much as Luke saw of her. And you were fine with that. They fit almost perfectly and it only took a few more meetings for them to label themselves as a couple.

Things began crumbling as soon as Luke had moved to the New York office just a few weeks before your own return. While he seemed fine with the idea of Rachel working in the same place, that wasn’t also her take on things.

“It’s weird,” she told you through the phone. “It just… It’s so weird. I’d be seeing him at my place or his and in the office? No thanks. That’s way too much for me, you know?”

It made sense, of course, and though you rooted for them, you didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. Yet, there was a tremble to her voice, a sort of uncertainty that made you think otherwise. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t have any feelings for him - maybe she was simply shocked to see him walk through those glass doors one morning to pick up his brand new ID and claim what would soon become his permanent desk across from yours.

“Thanks,” she tells you, pulling you back into the present. “But like I said, slow and easy does it. We’ve been talking more and that makes a huge difference.”

“For sure. If communication isn’t the backbone of a relationship, I don’t know what is,” you agree and wasn’t that ironic? You’re hardly in the position of giving any relationship advice at all or saying what is good for one and what isn’t. Not anymore. Not when your own had fallen apart.

Rachel grins. “You’d know. You and Mat have been together for… how long now?”

You should’ve seen it coming a mile away. You swallow uncomfortably, take another sip of your drink and take a few fries just to buy yourself a little more time. “Maybe four years? Don’t really keep track of that anymore,” you said as casually as you could muster, lifting your shoulders in a shrug.

“I think I’d stop doing that eventually too at the rate you two are going. Honestly, I would’ve bet anything you would’ve been the first to tie the knot. Actually, thinking about it,” she says, clicking her fingers in recollection, “Elise said the same thing to me the other day when we caught up on the phone. She went—“

You don’t really register her words. There is a low ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable draft sweeps in the locale as the entrance door somewhere behind you is being kept open, no doubt a large group making their way in; it sends shivers down your body, but really, you are pretty sure you can’t only attribute them to a brief gust of wind. After all, your sweater is keeping you sufficiently cosy and warm. In front of you, Rachel continues praising your relationship with Mat, talking about how anyone took a look at you both and would say, whatever they have going, I want it too and you are trying so, so hard to block out as much as you can of it. You can stop her, of course; distract her with whatever random topic and you know she’d go with it but your jaw is locked in place, teeth clenched uncomfortably. You blame that and the way your nails dig into the palms of your hands on the sting behind your eyes and the sudden heaviness weighting down on your chest.

It isn’t so much the pain of your relationship ending that was rendering you in a state of daze, but the shame of what you and Mat agreed to do: pretend the two of you were still the happy couple Elise, Tito and everyone else thought of you as just to not spoil whatever luck they thought you’d be passing on to them by being their main witnesses. And then, once the event passes and they would return to New York from the honeymoon you and Mat would soon gift to them on their wedding day, you’d tell them the truth. Or part of it anyway. Definitely no mentions that the two of you were childish enough to play pretend; just a simple, clean break timed just perfectly with your request to be permanently redeployed elsewhere. Preferably, as far from New York City as possible so that you no longer have to walk the streets you once both did or yearn to once again visit that perfect pie place the two of you once dubbed your own.

“We’re not together anymore.”

The words stumble out of your mouth in a desperate now or never manner. Despite the anxiousness that came with the act, you find relief in it also. It feels freeing to be able to admit the truth to someone that isn’t only yourself though perhaps you should’ve thought of this more carefully: the idea of now needing to come fully clean to Rachel is somewhat daunting, mostly because of what she might say in response to the front you and Mat are trying to uphold. But for the first time in what feels like too long, you no longer feel like a fraud; like a person lying to everyone around them.

“Wait.” Rachel frowns, and it was obvious she doesn’t quite know what to do with that information or how to best process it. Her head tilts a little, palm idly rubbing against the side of her neck so you take the initiative to come across as unbothered by this as possible by leaning into the seat, legs crossing as you fiddled with the drink’s straw. “What? I’m confused. Didn’t Mat just drop by earlier? You two seemed okay. He was…fine when he came in. We didn’t talk much, sure, but he was all smiley and just…normal.”

You laugh quietly and shortly. “It’s been a while now. Maybe two or three weeks before I left for Baltimore, I think. It’d be pretty worrying if he was still hung up about it. After all, we both agreed on it. And this,” you add, a little more disheartened and embarrassed. “This…thing we’re doing. We promised Tito and Elise we’ll be there for them on their big day and we will. But they had this… I guess, idea of us being an ideal couple. Whatever that is,” you continue more quietly and with a roll of your eyes. “He wanted to tell Tito, but I didn’t want to spoil Elise’s day, you know? So he agreed. Took some convincing because it feels so… Gosh, it sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Pretending we’re still together just to spread some fake cheer around.”

“Oh, honey…” Rachel whispers and you read the sympathy in her voice. Not that she makes it particularly difficult to take note of. “But… I thought everything was okay. Actually, way more than okay. Perfect, even. What…uh—“ She trailed off awkwardly, but you could easily fill in that gap.

What happened?

You bring the beverage to your mouth, this time drinking from the glass directly as opposed to using the straw. The mixer stings your throat this time around but the small ice cube you take into your mouth numbs it away pretty quickly. Slowly, you chew it to small pieces and speak only when you finish it.

“I thought long and hard about this the first few weeks after we called it quits,” you admit. “We always talked about what bothered us or if there was something on our mind, but at one point we just… We stopped wanting to compromise. When I was put forward for Baltimore, it was going to be a permanent thing. Mat was happy, sure, but I could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest with me, you know? When I called him out on it, he asked me well what about us? And I said we’d be fine. Baltimore isn’t a different continent. It’s not even a different timezone. He could come over when he had free time and if he didn’t, I’d always spend weekends in New York anyway. It’s Baltimore, Rach. Not fucking San Francisco or whatever. Eventually, he told me exactly what was on his mind: he couldn’t do long distance. Not even for a short period of time while I figured out if Baltimore is really what I wanted. Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, though?” You question, but it’s clear Rachel feels a bit awkward about giving her take on it right now, so you make it easier for her by responding to your own question. “I felt lonely too when he was on the road. I was worried he’d find someone different, someone much better while away. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but a small part of me still thought what if. This happened right before he was on the road again, actually. We didn’t call, barely even texted those weeks and then when he returned, we decided it’d be best to break up. Didn’t take us a long discussion to get to that conclusion because at that point, it just… I don’t know. It felt like we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Rachel presses her lips together, the frown still on her face and hesitantly, she asks, “who said it first?”

“I did,” you respond without hesitating. “He wanted a break while we work it all out but come on, Rach, a break? Look me in the eyes and tell me people really believe in breaks and they come back to each other as if nothing happened.”

“I mean…” she trails off, pointing at herself by way of explanation. “Look at me and Luke, I guess.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not the same thing, trust me. This was for the best, Rach. It’s much neater to call it quits. That way, neither of us will feel obliged to hold back if life puts something different ahead of us.” You pause for a moment, teeth biting into your lower lip. “They said they’ll always have me back there if I decide on it, so who knows. Once I wrap up the project their called me back for, I might just take them up on it. Not quite a promotion, but it’ll be a good sidestep and maybe a change of scenery is what I need.”

“And do you think it’s good? What the two of you are doing right now?” Rachel questions, not at all deterred by your weak attempt at trying to divert conversation to a more work related topic. “And I don’t mean it just for Elise and Tito’s wedding, but for you and Mat generally speaking. I mean… the two of you have been together for a pretty long time. Doesn’t it… Isn’t it odd?”

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure,” you confirm. “But it’d be weirder for everyone if we were to tell them we’re no longer together given we’ve been asked to do what we need to do. Rach, promise me this stays between us, okay? Promise. I know how it sounds, I know how it’ll look but trust me on this, okay?”

She fixes you with a sceptical stare, a look that holds yet more questions than certainty but eventually, she nods her head and relief washes over you at the gesture. “I’m sorry it happened, Y/N,” she offers, voice warm and sympathetic as she places a hand on the table palm up. “And I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

You smile softly and reach for it, returning the squeeze she gives you. There is comfort in the gesture, comfort in her words and you find yourself rooting for it, so grateful to have received it. “The worst part is over, but thank you, Rachel. “It means a lot.”

“Feel like carpooling with Luke and I?”

“I’m good,” you assure as you both relax back into your seats. “Elise wants us there the day before the rehearsal. I guess just to have some familiar faces around that aren’t just wedding planners, so Mat and I agreed to go together tomorrow. Promise I won’t lose my shit if our song plays on the radio,” you add jokingly and find yourself laughing along with Rachel.

“What song’s that?”

Too many, you think, although one in particular stands out to you. “Brett Young’s In Case You Didn’t Know.”

A tray containing an assortment of dishes is set on the table and shortly after, an ice cold pitch of sangria accompanies that. Eager to cool down, you reach for one of the empty glasses to pour yourself a drink but Mat’s quicker. He takes them both, filling your glass first before his own. You laugh to yourself and Mat grins at that, briefly looking towards you as he fills his glass. You’re about to take a sip, eager to both quench your thirst and cool down but Mat takes the initiative of initiating a toast by raising his glass a little, elbow resting on the table.

“What’re we toasting for tonight?” You ask, imitating his pose by leaning forward a little. “To our first holiday together? To how perfect the weather’s been so far? To how I mastered paddle boarding way before you did?”

Mat laughs, lowering his head as he did so but when he looked back up at you, he clinked his glass against yours and held it there. “To all of that. To one of the many, many holidays we’ll have together. To this moment right here, to us, to you.” He pauses and the strobe lights of the bar switch from dark blue to hot pink, and the way Mat stares at you in this moment makes your heart race inexplicably. “To how much I love you.”

He takes your breath away. Draws it right out of your lungs and you feel heady. It’s the first summer with Mat, the first I love you from him and it suddenly feels as if this bar is too small for the both of you. You love him, and he loves you too and the only thing you could imagine doing is jumping in his arms but there’s a table between you and sangria topped wine glasses in your hands, and he’s wearing a pristine white shirt that looks incredible against his tanned skinned and there’s a lot of people around (the majority significantly older than both your age and Mat’s combined) so you simply grin and carefully lean forward more, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips and even if your voice is low compared to the loud, cheesy country music blasting through hidden stereos, you know Mat catches on to that.

“I love you,” he says right back and before you pull away, he bumps his nose against yours gently, making you giggle.

You both take a sip of your drinks and you smack your lips together, content with the turn of the night.

You and Mat had been dating for a few months, but this was the first time the two of you will spend back to back nights and days together without needing to rush somewhere. Of course, a part of you was anxious about it - while it was easy to spend a few hours together now and then, maybe even the odd night together, it was entirely different being together pretty much all the time. There were habits and quirks you each had that might get in the way, but your worries were soon put to rest. You and Mat had wonderful chemistry together, easily able to spend your time together but also still enjoy each other’s company while doing separate activities. You didn’t want to rush into things and you made no move to do so, but it was ever so easy to imagine what living with Mat would be like. And sure, you were well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows; the two of you would eventually transition out of this honeymoon-type period of your relationship, but something told you life would Mat would never bore you. It’d never make you wish for anything different.

“Give me a second,” Mat says and before you could ask him what he meant, he’s out of his seat and you follow him across the bar, a little confused.

He makes his way past the bar, past the pool tables and stops in front of what is undoubtedly a jukebox. Curious, you arch an eyebrow and watch as he fiddles with finding the right amount of change before inserting the coins in the slot. It takes him a while before he finds whatever song it is he wants and it takes enough time for him to make it back to your table before the jukebox and sound system registers the request. You don’t recognise the first few notes at all, much less the accompanying guitar strings but you don’t have time to search your memory for a title.

Mat stops by your side, holding a hand out to you. “Dance with me.” It’s more statement than question and under any circumstances, you may have felt a little awkward about doing this, but it’s the heat of the moment and your giddiness that pushes you to your feet, hand in Mat’s.

The two of you are beaten to an emptier area in the establishment by two other much older couples that were closer to it anyway, and you find that gives you a bit more of a boost also. Mat pulls you to him, wrapping one arm around your waist while holding on to your free hand while you hold on to his shoulder with the other. Your fingers lightly clench and unclench the soft material of his shirt, lowering your head a little and you smile against the back of your hand. It’s so painfully cheesy and there’s nowhere near enough other people dancing along to the song but you love it much more than you thought you ever would.

“Know what I’d invest all my money into?” He asks you suddenly.

You pull back a little, still swaying along with the song. “Cryptocurrency seems like a safe bet right now.”

Mat laughs, that big hearty laugh of his that makes your smile wider and when it passes, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Well, I’m glad one of us has a good head on their shoulders, but no.” He shakes his head, then laughs again, shorter and quieter as if recalling your response. “A time machine. I want to stop time right here and right now so that we can be as we are for a little while longer.”

“Cheesy,” you joke, despite the warmth coursing across your entire body and the jelly-like feeling forming in your knees. “But perfectly understandable.”

“Eventually, we wouldn’t need it, but it’d be nice to have one for tonight.”

“Eventually? How so?” You question, then narrow your eyes a little, the gesture playful. “You plan on getting bored of me and breaking up?”

“What!” He exclaims and pulls you in just that much closer. He lets go of your hand only so he could bring his to your chin, tipping your head back a little. “Never,” kiss, “say that,” kiss, “again.” The final kiss you share with him is a little longer and you take the liberty of bringing your hand to his chest, palm pressing against it to feel the thump of his heart against his ribcage momentarily. Then, slowly, you graze the tips of your nails along his exposed collarbone and peck his lips once more before pulling away. It’s then that the song’s name and artist comes to your mind, almost as an afterthought. From hidden speakers, Brett Young declares I couldn’t live life without you and Mat gives you a pointed stare. “Damn, he said it before I could.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you assure him. “Either way, I think I prefer hearing it from you, Barzal.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t live without you,” he recites and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He sways you both in a more exaggerated manner that makes you cling to him more out of habit than necessity. You’ve known you’d trust Mat with anything, but each day, he seems to do something that makes that thought solidify more and more in your mind. The comfort and safety that brings wraps around you like a warm blanket.

Be it the hot weather, the somewhat stifling interior of the bar, the sips of sangria on an empty stomach, the euphoria of the moment or all things combined, you nod quickly. And from somewhere in the depths of your mind, the very bottom of your heart, you respond with, “I can get used to this day after day. So don’t let me go, baby.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, tone full of care and love and warmth. He gives you his promise without hesitation and you know it’s bound to stick.

Your phone buzzes once.

I’m downstairs. Need help with your bags?

You push up from the comfort of your couch and make one last round of your apartment to make sure you had everything you definitely needed from where it was placed.

I’m good. Will be down in a minute, you text back but don’t pocket your phone right away. Instead, you stare at the screen for a little while longer, half tempted to scroll through the thread of messages. They’d provide a stark timeline of when things started going wrong and you would probably be able to see exactly how things changed between the two of you from the moment you suggested a mere break wouldn’t do it. But doing that would be like breaking a streak you had going for sufficient time to earn a pat on your back. The journey of getting to a point where you were sufficiently okay with being in Mat’s presence without any other company was a long one and the last thing you needed was to recall how it once was.

You and Mat started out as friends after Elise introduced the two of you just a short while before he started his professional career with the Islanders. She talked about how the two of them met in school and how great of a guy he was; real down to earth, funny and incredibly ambitious - traits she also assigned to you, and therefore thought the two of you would get along great. She wasn’t wrong about it. You knew a little about hockey, going to games every now and then mostly whenever Elise dragged you along but you found that Mat made the game more enjoyable. He explained it to you in a manner that didn’t make you feel belittled or as if it should be something you already knew of, and didn’t mind explaining some things more than once. On the other hand, you introduced him to your own hobbies and the little world you created for yourself in a city as big and busy as New York. You showed him the more lowkey but homely establishments, including your favourite pizza place that - unbeknown to you at the time - would become yours and his, and even took him to a few student bars where you regularly beat him at pool while he showed off at darts. Occasionally, it felt weird to watch him unwind in such…normal places and ways while on other days, he shone on ice and was easily one of the best rookies emerging from one of the country’s most well known sports leagues. Yet despite that, you found that athlete Mat wasn’t all that different from Mat the person.

He never put a front and his genuine manner was refreshing to you, particularly during a time when you were still a college student and a good portion of the guys around were textbook frat boys. Being around Mat was comfortable and safe. You didn’t feel the need to speak a certain way or be a different person, and retrospectively, the way you felt towards him developed almost organically. You felt yourself gravitating towards him and were pleasantly surprised by the moments when he’d seek you out first. A day off here and a day off there until eventually, you found yourself spending much of your free time with him and vice-versa.

Falling in love with Mat was easy. Being without Mat was difficult. But, thankfully, not impossible apparently.

Convinced you packed everything you needed, made your way out with a duffle bag on your shoulder and a suitcase at your heels.

True to his word, Mat was parked in front of your place and as soon as you pushed open the building’s door, he looked up from his phone and made his way over to you. The last thing you needed was to make the journey any more awkward or difficult for the both of you, so you didn’t argue when he took the bags from you to stow them away in the trunk.

“Are you going across the country?” You ask, peeking into the trunk while he plays Tetris with the bags.

“What?” He questions, evidently distracted by the task at hand but straightens up when you delicately place a hand on his arm, pushing him to the side a little.

“You’d think you’re going across the country for like, two or three weeks rather than a couple of days,” you repeat. “Maybe put that smaller bag sideways? That might let the bigger suitcase fit.”

He follows your guidance and sure enough, that does the trick: the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk and you grin to yourself, triumphant.

Mat steps back, closing the trunk and brushes his hands together. “Thanks,” he says and you nod, heading towards your seat in the front. He follows you inside just as you click in your seatbelt. “I don’t think it’ll take us more than two or three hours to get there if traffic’s as good as it was when I checked it a little while earlier. Got everything?”

“Everything important that is. Everything else, I’ll just worry about and pull my hair out when we get there,” you tell him and you can’t help feeling proud for being able to keep conversation light and as normal as you can.

After all, you’ve known life before Mat and you’re rediscovering it after him too.

Mat laughs ever so quiet, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him brushing his hand across his mouth though he’s a few seconds too slow in trying to mask his smile.

“I think I’ll need to fill up soon, but let me know if there’s anywhere else you want to stop along the way,” he tells you while pulling out of the parking spot.

You nod even if he probably might not see it and take the liberty to scroll through radio stations. Mat doesn’t seem to be against it, so you continue switching to them until, a little frustrating that nothing seems to work for you, you connect your phone to the car and play one of your playlists. A mix of upbeat pop and an assortment of viral tracks fill in the silence for a while, and the act of singing along in your head takes your mind away from how it almost feels as if you’re sitting on needles. It takes a conscious effort on your behalf to remind yourself to loosen your shoulders and stop fiddling too much with your hands, and you’re glad Mat seems to be plenty preoccupied with driving. Once upon a time, he would’ve immediately picked up on even the most mild of your discomforts and tried to do anything he could to alleviate them. You don’t know how much, if at all, Mat changed during the time you spent apart but you want to think that you no longer wear your heart on your sleeve as much and your emotions are much more guarded, especially in his presence.

Apparently, though, there’s only so much he can take with silence filled in by music because once he’s off busier streets, he leans in his seat more comfortably and you can tell he very briefly turns his head towards you. “Think they’ll like their wedding gift?”

You direct your gaze away from the flashing scenery outside to Mat. “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t like it? Trust me when I say Bali’s been a place Elise always wanted to visit and I can’t think of a better time than now,” you assure him.

“If they don’t, it’s on you,” he says and it takes you a beat longer to realise he’s just joking so you huff out a laugh, relaxing back in the seat.

“If they don’t, they can give one of the tickets to me and I’ll happily go there.” You cast a glare out at the scenery ahead, eyes narrowing upwards towards the overcast sky. “I don’t think summer will ever come at this rate. I’m starting to hate it here.”

“Doubt Baltimore was any better,” Mat points out.

“Hardly,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask them to send me to Miami instead. That’d be much better.”

Mat clears his throat quickly, shifting a little. “So, are you planning on going back to Baltimore or... Why are you back?” You catch sight of the frown forming on his face, and he quickly shakes his head as if trying to rid the hint of accusation from his voice. “That sounded wrong, sorry. But just genuinely curious. I thought a permanent move was on the table?”

“It was. Still is, but they needed me back here to wrap up a project. It was a pretty bad move on their behalf to send me there before we had that wrapped up nice and neat, bow and all, but I guess…” You trail off, shrugging a shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what’s next after that. They do want me back there, though. It just depends how long it takes for things here to fall into place.”

“Fair enough.” Another pause, another moment for him to press his lips together in silent deliberation. He did that often, and you wonder if that remains a habit still. “Was it a promotion? I forgot, sorry.”

“All good,” you assure, brushing off the apology. “Not a promotion per se, but a sidestep with just a slightly bigger paycheck. The office there is a bit smaller than the New York one so maybe there’s a higher chance of getting promoted sooner, but I don’t want to jump the gun on that yet. How did things work out for you guys this season?”

The Islanders had a good season, making the playoffs but fell just short of making the semi-finals, you knew that. After all, you hadn’t removed the Islanders game and news alerts from your phone and you put that on your laziness. You wouldn’t shy away from admitting to him you still followed the team’s progression, but you preferred not to.

“Could’ve been better but there’s lots to learn from it,” Mat tells you and there’s a trace of excitement and determination in his voice. “Next season will be even better, I guarantee.”

It’s a staple Mat response, one he always gave if he felt a game didn’t end in their favour or he didn’t do as much as he thought he should have. Sometimes, it took him some time to accept it. Usually, it came to him after pushing himself in training, after going that extra step in the gym, after re-watching highlights or coach videos and always - always, you’d assure him that it takes a team to move forward, not a single person. Always, he’d kiss you and tell you he loves you and always, you’d spend those moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, more often than not with Mat’s head resting against your chest and your leg slung around his hip.

“Plenty of time to lift that cup, Barzal,” you assure him. “Sure, the sooner the better but there’s always a right time for everything.”

“I hope so,” he agrees pensively, and lingers on that thought.

You let him to it, directing your attention back to the view outside and only now and then picking up your phone either to switch songs or browse through a few applications. A part of you feels almost obliged to try and push for conversation but you avoid doing so. The last thing you need is to make it painfully awkward for the two of you and you figure Mat could always do that himself if he feels like it. So, you let your mind wander to better things - to the upcoming rehearsal and the wedding itself, to how good Elise will look and how Tito will be so proud to watch her walk the aisle towards him. You imagine their reaction to the gift you and Mat contributed towards and smiled to yourself, knowing it was a perfect pick for them both.

You don’t think about telling Elise you and Mat had lied to them. You don’t think about passing this hurdle - the final one before you two will become strangers to one another. You don’t think about how the next time you might both see each other again, you’ll both have such different lives that for a brief moment, the surprise of it will knock the air out of your lungs before you remember: that’s him without me, and this is me without him. And you won’t be the first or the last people to break up, but a part of you is certain what the two of you had was unique and could’ve been grand. So much grander.

You become more alert to your surroundings when he starts slowing the car and you notice you’re pulling up into a gas station. As much as space allows you, you stretch out a little and Mat stops right by one of the pumps.

“Want something for the road?” You ask him, unplugging your phone and taking your card from your bag.

“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mat tells you and it doesn’t take long for the refill to happen before you both walk into the station’s store, beelining for the snack aisles even if you have only two hours or so until you reach your destination.

“Oh gosh, those are going to be a nightmare to clean up if you spill any in the car,” you groan quietly as he browses through the variety of Nerds flavours.

“But they’re so good though,” he shoots back and flashes a smile that is nothing short of sly when he picks up two boxes instead of one.

“Yeah, until the flavour runs out literally two seconds after you put them in your mouth. I mean, enjoy that but I’m different,” you boast and pick up a bag of sour candy.

“You just like obliterating your taste buds.”

He’s not wrong. Sour candy and spicy foods are your guilty pleasures, and have been for the longest time. You don’t try to look into how easily he recalls that because, you tell yourself, there’s nothing to look into. It’s a mere fact that anyone who knows you would easily recite.

“You’re wrong and you know it, but admitting that is difficult so it’s fine, Barzal. No hard feelings,” you throw back, snickering as you head over to the fridges for a bottle of cold water. Instinctively, you grab another for him and instinctively, he takes your candy and the water to pay for them but you still tag along with him in the queue.

“No shot. I like some spice but to the point where I literally can’t taste anything else? Hey, remember that one time when you made something… Can’t remember what it was but it was so…” He purses his lips and you laugh because yes, yes you remember it so clearly.

“So good you ended up crying over it?” You offer.

“More like, I wasn’t crying but it was so fucking spicy, Y/N, holy.”

“You survived though, didn’t you?”

“I only did because there isn’t a thing you do I don’t like,” he says and then, seems to catch himself but a second too late. “Didn’t like,” he corrects quietly but the damage is done.

You swallow uncomfortably, directing your gaze away from him but don’t hesitate to nod towards the outside. “I’ll head over to the car. I’ll text Elise to tell her we’re close.”

“Y/N—“

But you’re already taking steps towards the exit and out of ear shot, making a beeline for the car. Your heart thumps rapidly and uncomfortable in your chest and find that pressing a palm to your left side doesn’t make it any better. You know it’s an innocent mistake and there are some habits that die hard, but the way he phrased it triggered your fight or flight instinct instantaneously and despite yourself, you leaned towards the latter. You enter the car and take the time to compose yourself as much as you could. The last thing you need is to have a conversation with Mat about this because you didn’t want to have it - it shouldn’t happen for the sake of avoiding making the situation even more uncomfortable. It was an innocent slip up, no doubt, and you should’ve braced yourself to speak of Mat in present tense as opposed to past tense in the presence of others but it comes to you harder than imagined.

It’s odd how you both once knew so much about each other, everything even, and now the two of you are reduced to dancing around all that and making conscious efforts to keep your conversations as short and banal as possible.

You try and busy yourself with formulating a message to Ellie, one that’s long enough to try and make you seem as busy as possible by the time Mat returns to the car, but every line you wrote, every mini paragraph going into dull details about the trip and where you guys currently are seemed like an overthrow. So, you delete that also and simply text her an OTW just as Mat sets the sweets on the centre console and the bottles in the cup holders.

He doesn’t start the engine immediately and your mood quickly switches to frustration. Sure, you hadn’t handled it in the best way possible but trying to have a conversation about it wouldn’t make it any better. Or at least, it’s just something you didn’t want to have to think about for the remainder of the journey.

But he does just that, because that is what Mat always did: he talked with you.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he begins, “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. It’s force of habit more than anything else.”

“It’s whatever, Mat, so just move past it. I did, simple as that,” you tell him neutrally.

There’s something in that response he must have not liked because you pick up on his small huff and shortly after, the car starts and you’re both on the road again. This time, with silence between you and an atmosphere so heavy it makes you wish you weren’t speeding down an Interstate just so you could open the window and let some of the air in.

The hotel the wedding will be held at lies in front of you, sprawling and secluded and perfect for an event like this. Tito is already at the entrance and when he spots Mat’s car, he waves quickly while Mat quickly flashes the headlights before pulling into an available parking spot.

“There they are!” Tito says by way of greeting and you walk right into his outstretched arms, hugging him. “Can’t believe so much time passed since we last saw each other. What is it, two months? Three?”

“Three,” you confirm once you pull away so that Mat could hug him also. “It’s good to see you too. Where’s Elise?”

“She wanted to check on some small details and said she’ll meet up with you guys in a bit. So here I am, the welcoming committee,” Tito explained and when he and Mat stepped apart, he reached out to give you another short hug which you accepted. “So how was Baltimore? Don’t suppose you liked it all that much if you’re back so soon. This guy was happy about it,” Tito adds, nodding his head towards Mat who was already busy emptying the trunk.

You press your lips together, displaying a small smile. “Baltimore wasn’t too bad but they missed me here, apparently. Can’t complete a damn thing without my two cents so here I am for now.”

Tito frowns, but the expression is very brief. “For now? We’ll need to talk more about that later so Barzy doesn’t mope around as much as he did back then.”

You throw a quick glance towards Mat but he’s looking away towards whatever interesting spot on the ground he found, pointedly ignoring you. “I’ll have a word with him about it later,” you tell Tito lightly and together, the three of you make your way inside, towards the reception.

“I think Elise is in the room at the end of the corridor if you want to say hi,” Tito informs you and you jump at the opportunity.

You follow the corridor, making a right turn and continuing along the dimly lit hallway leading to what the signs informed you to be Conference Room 1. The door is slightly ajar and you begin picking up on the buzz of activity coming from within and soon enough, you’re face to face with a spacey room boasting an array of flowers and various arrangements tastefully decorating tables and drooping down from the ceiling. No doubt, the effect will be lovely during the night when colourful neon lights can be turned on. You spot Elise easily: she’s in the midst of the room with what is undoubtedly the scrapbook of ideas she’d been carefully putting together since Tito asked her to marry him. Outwardly, she’s all smiles and laughter but you can imagine the amount of effort and planning putting all of this together and working with planners takes.

When she spots you, she squeals in excitement, sets her book down and dashes across the room to engulf you in a hug, making you stumble a few steps back.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arms around her, squeezing her with just enough force to try and communicate how much you missed her but not so that it was uncomfortable.

“I missed you! You’re here!” She exclaims, stepping back to look at you in disbelief then hugging you again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you’re here! Where’s Mat? Is he here too?”

“Of course he is,” you assure her with a laugh. “I missed you too.” You throw a curious glance towards the room over her shoulder, nodding your head towards it. “How’s it going? Need me to take over for a bit?”

“Maybe later. Definitely later. Come on.” She wraps an arm around yours and leads the way out of the room, undoubtedly back to the reception area where you left Mat and Tito. “Please tell me Baltimore is off the table. FaceTime is fine, sure, but it’s not great, you know? I need the real deal next to me. Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but Mat wasn’t Mat without you.”

“So I heard, but forget about us!” You said in a desperate attempt to try and steer attention away from the subject. “Tell me about how everything’s going. Are you still nervous about it? Because trust me, Elise - you have absolutely nothing to be nervous of. What I’ve heard of so far and what I’ve seen will make it the absolute best day, surely.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she tells you and to demonstrate, she holds her free hand in front of you and sure enough, there’s just a slight tremble to it. “Please lend me some of those nerves of steel of yours, Y/N, I’d do anything to have even a small percentage of them right now.”

“Pft, as if. Those are all show, trust me.”

“I’ll take even that. Oh, Mat!” She greets as soon as the two of you reach the reception area and Elise spots Mat.

Much like you and Tito, they hug and when she steps back, she immediately stands next to Tito who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They exchange a quick kiss and you smile at the happiness and bliss they’re clearly surrounded by.

It’s the slight pressure on your lower back that makes you jolt a little on the spot and it’s then you realise Mat had gently placed his hand there to encourage you a little closer. It takes effort on your behalf to follow his guidance but you move towards him, though you wish you could physically wince at how undoubtedly stiff the two of you must look. Or hopefully, not greatly so because neither Tito nor Elise comment on it or shoot you any funny looks as the four of you engage in brief conversation, mainly surrounding the trip here and any other guests they expect to receive today.

You don’t hang around much, though. Elise’s phone begins buzzing incessantly and she’s whisked away by the message received, but not before she fixes you with a pointed stare and demands the two of you have drinks later in the evening. Tito follows her also, even if he informs you and Mat that he feels as if he’s running around in the right places only because of Elise and the wedding planners, but you encourage him on by joking he could maybe turn a few candles on the tables this way or that for some extra oomph.

“I can’t imagine how she does it,” you admit to Mat once the elevator doors slide shut soundlessly and the car begins moving upwards to your floor.

“Pretty sure it’s not that big of a deal to her, given what all this is leading to,” Mat tells you and you detect a hint of detachment in his voice.

You don’t welcome it, of course you don’t, but you choose to not point that out to him. The last thing you want is an argument to break out the relatively okay mood the two of you have managed to hold, recent events that could be erased from memory aside. Instead, you simply stand back quietly, eyes glued on the red digital numbers aside until they come to a halt on the ninth floor where the elevator stops and you’re both left in a silent, dimly lit hallway.

Mat has the key to the apartment Elise told you the two of you would be in and just before tapping in, he hands you your own copy of it. Up until this very moment, you hadn’t thought very much of the overnight arrangements. You were pretty sure you meant to ask Elise a bit more about them at some point but both your attention and hers were pulled in different directions and here you were, stepping into your place for the next couple of nights, Mat trailing a little behind you.

You stop, arms folding across your chest and you feel Mat stop somewhere close behind you, looking into one room.

“I didn’t think this through,” you state neutrally.

Ahead of you lay only one bed.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*#the synopsis sucks but i'm bad at short summaries lol #i had this idea since i first joined hockeyblr and i'm happy to have finally found the motivation to write it #anyway i have a vague idea for some scenes #and there will probably be three MAYBE four parts to it

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