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#i’m feeling a bit shell shocked after a phone conversation with my parents
sunlightmurdock · 1 year
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Admiral kazansky finding sub Rosa! reader’s positive pregnancy test lying around and going apeshit on Bradley but Bradley didn’t know cause she hadn’t told him yet
Stop it because he would he PISSED. And obviously it’s after Bradley and Lil Kazansky move in together but long before they’re married, so guess where Ice sees him most often? Work.
Taking the trash out is not Mrs. Kazansky’s job. It hasn’t been since he married her in ‘89. She does plenty around the house, more than Tom could ever pretend to be completely aware of. So, emptying the trash is his job and has always been.
Kitchen trash can? — Easy. Remembering the bathrooms? — That’s a little more tedious in the big house that his extensive career has afforded him.
Now, it was Mothers’ Day this past weekend. One of the rare times that your sisters were in town. So, you had made the most of it, all having a sleepover in your parents’ house like old times. It was Maddison’s idea. She’s the oldest. Married and trying. Well — she hadn’t explicitly told you to take one, but she had mentioned that she was testing every day. Describing her symptoms to you.
She had put the idea in your head. So, when you were laying awake that night in your childhood bedroom — you couldn’t get the thought off of your mind. The fact that you were laying on your back because your breasts were too tender to be on your side of your front. She had offered up a test willingly and you had taken it without thought.
You had discarded it with the same carelessness, shell shocked by its answer.
Bored and in dull, Sunday afternoon task mode, your father could have missed it when he lifted the lid off of the small bathroom trash can to take the bag out. It was sitting right at the top. Double lines, bright and proudly displayed.
“Bradshaw!”
He’ll never get used to that — he flinches every time. Rooster’s eyes widen a little as he spins to face your father in the men’s locker room. Towel wrapped around his waist and uniform folded neatly in his locker, his conversation interrupted, he studies the furious look on your father’s face.
“A word in my office. Now.”
“Uh, sure — is everything alright?” Bradley’s brows furrow slightly, cheeks burning a deep terracotta, all eyes in the room on him. He swallows softly and adjusts the towel. There are rarely admirals in the locker room and he’s truly dismayed that on this rare occasion, the admiral happens to be your fucking father.
“Not here.”
Rooster pulls at the collar to his uniform, already worried that he’s going to sweat through his freshly applied deodorant as he steps into your father’s office, now dressed in his flightsuit. You’re at work, not yet on your lunch break and unable to reply to his SOS text message.
The door closes and the room suddenly feels a lot smaller. Bradley presses his back to the door.
“When I gave you my blessing, Lieutenant — it was to marry my daughter, not to get her pregnant after less than two months living together.”
Bradley doesn’t have any significant allergies. Cats make him a little itchy but it’s worth it for the airplane ears and funny little attitudes. But now, his throat feels like it’s closing up.
Ice notices the sudden dilation in Bradley’s pupils. He straightens up in his chair, refusing to be fooled. “Don’t play dumb, kid, I found the pregnancy test in her trash.”
Bradley stares at him, back pressed into the office door. It occurs to him briefly that — yeah, your period probably is a little later than normal. He hadn’t thought to that yesterday when he was balls deep inside of you in your now shared shower.
“I’m talking to you, Bradshaw — you gonna answer me, or are you just going to keep staring at me like a damn idiot?”
Rooster exhales slowly. Tom can’t help but notice that he looks a little bit… greener than he did before. Rooster swallows the lump in this throat.
“Can, we — um — can I get back to you? — I think I need to make a phone call.”
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autumn-in-phandom · 3 years
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lubdubsworld · 3 years
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Better Man.
              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~
Taehyung x OC 
Rating 18 +
Angst. 
Implied Infidelity in the past. 
Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 
"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 
"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 
I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 
He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 
"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 
Us. 
Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.
 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.
To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 
I swallowed. 
Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 
 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.
 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 
So we had done the wise thing. 
At first a break.
 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 
"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 
People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .
But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  
But, none of it mattered now. 
He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 
It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.
 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 
He would be  my ex -husband. 
i hated that word. 
It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.
 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 
An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.
Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 
I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.
I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 
It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 
I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 
 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.
I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me
It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 
In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 
Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 
 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 
And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 
The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 
 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 
"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 
"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 
 Whatever it was. 
How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 
What a pity. 
"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 
"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 
My mother sighed.
"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 
I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 
And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 
My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 
And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 
And that had stuck with me. 
Walk out the first time. 
If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 
 And so I had. 
“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.
“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 
My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 
“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 
Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 
It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 
Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 
So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 
Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  
Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 
So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 
It wasn’t easy. 
From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 
Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 
Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 
Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 
I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 
I sighed, looking away.
It was way too early for this. 
“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 
He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 
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I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 
Of course, the customary hug. 
i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....
A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 
Was I just too cynical?
I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 
“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.
 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 
No, that wasn’t it. 
He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 
“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 
“Okay .” I said casually. 
He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.
“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.
“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.
“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 
“Does she know that?” I retorted.
 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.
Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.
“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 
It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 
That stupid nickname. 
God I couldn’t bear it. 
Swallowing i looked away. 
“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 
I nodded curtly. 
“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 
“Why not?” He whispered gently. 
I groaned. 
“Taehyung... “
“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 
“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.
He blinked.
“Mia...”
“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 
“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 
“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 
“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”
“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.
“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 
I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 
“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 
The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 
She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 
“Shall we begin?” 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 
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doctorstethoscope · 3 years
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The Right Chapter 27 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Hello my loves! Just a reminder that this chapter is posting from the queue as I am on vacation--- I will be checking in periodically but less active than usual and not updating the tag list! Hope y’all enjoy this one :)
Read previous chapters of this fic here! 
contains: food mention, hangover mention, discussion of parenting, canon-typical mentions of violence
wordcount: 2k
When you woke up the next morning, you’re somewhere between completely refreshed and wickedly hungover. You need a bacon egg and cheese on an everything bagel and a big cup of coffee stat if you are going to get anything at all done today. Aaron, of course, must have gotten up hours ago, and has long past left the bedroom by the time you rise at nearly 11. When you roll to get out of  bed, you notice that he’s left you advil, water, and a sleeve of saltines just in case you were feeling nauseous. You smiled, sitting up gingerly to sip at the water and take the pills. Once you were sure your stomach was fine, you slid out of bed and found Jack and Aaron in the kitchen, cooking up bacon and frying eggs while The Beatles played in the background. The boys hadn’t noticed you yet, and you decided not to call attention to yourself-- taking the moment to commit this mental image to memory, of Jack on his father’s hip, Aaron rocking back and forth as he pushed scrambled eggs around a frying pan, smiling and giggling and not thinking about work or serial killers or the next time he’d be pulled away.
When the song fades out, Aaron looks up, seeing you leaning against the doorway to the hall. 
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?” He asks, looking you up and down for signs of a hangover. 
“I’m okay. I’ll be better after breakfast,” you tell him. “And a big hug from my favorite Hotchner!” You add, crossing the kitchen and taking Jack from his father, shooting Aaron a knowing glance that said “I’m pretty sure physical therapy didn’t clear you for that. Especially not after last night.” 
“I cracked the eggs. There’s no shells in them, Mom.” Jack says, and the world stops. He doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s slipped up, but Aaron and you both freeze, whipping your heads to look at each other with equally bewildered glances. 
“I’m sure you did a great job, buddy!” You tell Jack, after a moment that feels like hours, not wanting to ignore him but not quite sure how to address what had happened, and Aaron wasn’t being much help. 
“Breakfast is ready,” Aaron says, handing you exactly what you needed-- a bacon and egg sandwich, along with a hashbrown, some fruit, and a big cup of coffee. 
“You might be the perfect man.” You tell him gratefully, and he smirks at you as the three of you sit down at the table and eat.  
You and Aaron make casual conversation for a little while before Jack poses a question. “Dad, can we take my kite out today?” Jack asks as he spears a sausage link on his fork. 
“It’s not really windy enough to fly a kite today, buddy, but we can go for a bike ride or play some soccer if you want,” Aaron responds before taking a sip of coffee. 
“And we’ll all go?” Jack asks, looking across the table at you. 
“Of course,” you tell him. “We’ll all go to the park with you.” 
“Okay. Can I be excused?” He asks, and Aaron nods. 
“Go ahead, just make sure you wash your hands and your face. You’ve got syrup everywhere,” He chuckles, and Jack scoots out his chair and leaves the table. 
As soon as Jack is out of eyesight, you speak up. “So, are we gonna talk about that, or what?” You say in a hushed tone, not wanting Jack to overhear. 
“I didn’t tell him to do that,” Aaron says. 
“Neither did I,” you assure him. 
“Are you upset?” Aaron asks, a furrow in his brow that just about broke your heart. Silly, silly man. 
“No, of course not. Not if you aren’t.” You assure him. 
“I just… he can’t forget Haley. He’s all that is left of her.” Aaron says with a deep sigh, and your eyes well up in tears. 
“No, Aaron, he hasn’t and he won’t. We won’t let him.” You say, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “And if you don’t want him to call me Mom, I understand.” 
“That’s not it. It’s just… bringing a lot up for me, is all.” He says. 
“That’s normal, honey. You should think about it for a while, maybe talk about it just with him. No matter what you decide, you’re not going to disappoint me or him. But it’s okay to need some time with this.” You say, standing up to wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the junction of his shoulder and his neck. 
“Thank you, for understanding me and for respecting her.” he tells you, raising one hand to cover yours where they met over his heart, craning his neck to leave a kiss on your wrist. 
“Baby, have you seen my phone?” You asked, realizing that you haven’t checked it all morning. 
“It’s charging next to mine on the bedside table. You were having a little trouble with the charger when we got in last night,” he chuckles at the memory of your drunken antics from the night before. 
You go into the other room to grab your phones, noticing that you have two missed calls from Penelope--- you only just missed her. You dial her back as you head back towards the kitchen to help Aaron clean up. 
“Where are you right now?” Garcia asks you as soon as the line connects, and your face twists up in confusion as you put your plate in the dishwasher. 
“I’m at Aaron’s place, where are you?” You ask, not understanding her line of questioning. 
“Is Jack in the room with you?” 
“Garcia, what’s going on?”  You ask, starting to get nervous. Aaron turns to face you, sensing your anxiety and you place a hand on his forearm for support. 
“Last night, when we were all at the bar, a girl was kidnapped, who based on the description, looks a hell of a lot like you. A neighbor saw the guy, and based on the he neighbor’s description--
“It looks like Josh,” you finished Garcia’s sentence, and you felt Aaron tense under your fingers. He puts his palm out, silently asking for your phone, and you pass it to him without even telling Garcia that you were putting him on. 
You were scared, terrified even, but you knew that the best thing you could do right then was be a profiler. You left Aaron to settle the details, and went into his bedroom to find something work-appropriate to wear. By the time you came back out, Aaron was off the phone. 
“I called the rest of the team in, they’re going to meet us at the office. We’re going to get this loser, and we’re going to get him today,” Aaron lets out, and you nod.
“I’ll take Jack over to Jess’s,” you say, turning back towards Jack’s room, and he stopped you. 
“No. You stay with me. Jess is on her way,” Aaron says, and she knocks at the door at the next moment. “I just told her that we got called in,” he tells you as he answers the door. 
“Morning, guys,” she says as she steps in, entirely too chipper for the terror that’s rolling through your stomach in waves. “Duty calls, right?” She smiles at you, and you use all the power you have to muster a smile back. 
“Yeah, even at the worst times,” you’re impressed that you strung that many words together. 
“Any idea when you’ll be back?” She asks, and you shake your head. 
“We’ve really got to go,” Aaron says, coming back into the room with Jack, who gives you and his father both hugs before you have to leave. You squeeze him extra tight before Aaron ushers you out of the apartment and towards the car. 
“I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Aaron tells you after a few moments of tense, silent driving. 
“I know,” you say noncommittally, and it’s back to silence. 
“You can’t go in the field.” You both say after a moment. 
“Darling, you have to understand--” 
“No, Aaron, it’s not even up for debate. You’re out because of your leg, and JJ is pregnant. The team needs me, and I can’t sit this one out because either one of us is emotional about it,” You argue, and Aaron heaves a sigh. 
“I wish Elle were here. Josh wouldn’t even still be a problem.” Aaron grumbles out, and despite yourself, you burst out laughing. Aaron’s shocked at first by your reaction, but after a moment, he lets out a laugh, too. 
“Aaron, that’s awful. You were upset with Elle for months, even after she left. You’re better than that.” You say, still smiling even though it really wasn’t funny at all. 
“Yeah, well, when you hobbled out to my car with a black eye, I think I began to understand Elle a little bit better than I did at the time.” Aaron tells you. 
You think of the girl Josh has taken now-- being punished only for the sin of resembling you. No doubt she had her own black eye to match yours, plus god only knows what else at this point, nearly twelve hours after being taken. You swallowed thickly. After a moment, you speak up again.
“You knew that this was going to happen, didn’t you?” You ask quietly-- it’s a genuine question, not an accusation, but it still breaks Aaron’s heart. “That’s why you weren’t excited or relieved like I was when he got arrested.”
“I knew it was a possibility,” he confirms. “I didn’t want to say anything to you, because there was no way to know-- and I didn’t want you to have to keep living in fear,” he explains.
 “I’m gonna get this son of a bitch,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Aaron. 
The team is already waiting for the two of you in the roundtable room while you arrive, although there’s really no need to brief, so you all launch into a profile while Garcia digs for more information. 
“What do we know about the unsub?” Aaron asks the team.
“He’s a power-seeker. He uses physical force as a method of coercion.” Morgan says, and Reid scribbles his statement onto a whiteboard. 
“He doesn’t react well when challenged--- his demeanor completely changed when he came here and Hotch went after him.” Emily adds. 
“True, but he had no problem going toe-to-toe with Morgan.” JJ contradicts. 
“Based on the message he left with the flowers, he’s displaying early indicators of stalking behavior. If that’s escalated far enough, it’s possible that Josh might really believe that the woman that he’s taken is Y/N.” Spencer says, and you nod. For her sake, you hoped not. He had a hell of a lot of pent up anger towards you, and you didn’t want this poor girl to take the brunt of it. 
“What’s her name?” You asked, quietly, and with everyone talking over you, you almost think no one hears you, until Aaron leans in a little closer. 
“What’s that, darling?” He asks. 
“What’s her name?” You say again, and his brow furrows in confusion. 
“Who’s name?”
“The girl who’s taking the beating with my name on it right now,” you spit out, and the rest of the team stops talking over you. “The least I can do is learn her name and go talk to her parents.” You say, packing your stuff up.
“Her name is Anna Reardon. We’ll send the address to your phone,” Emily tells you, and you turn on your heel and walk out. 
tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse
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appleciders · 3 years
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Rachel + Leah + Water, the Director’s Cut!
Okay, so I made this gifset exploring Rachel and Leah and the ocean, but because there’s a ten gif limit and a major point of gifsets is for them to look nice, I had to sacrifice a lot of the behind the scenes thoughts and initial versions that came along the way. I still wanted to talk about them though, because I found a lot of them really cool, so I figured I’d stick all that in this post. It’s gonna get long, so you can find the rest under the cut!
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So first up, we have Leah as we first see her in the water. (I’m using shitty screenshots because tumblr has a 2mb limit for gifs on text posts and I don’t feel like compressing these down lmao.) Here, she’s face-down, unconscious, floating on a fragment of the plane. This is the first time we see any of the girls in the water.
As Leah gives her dramatic speech talks to the detectives, we see flashbacks to the girl’s lives pre-island. There we see that one of them already has a very strong relationship with the water already, in her before-life: Rachel.
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Rachel, as we know, is a diver. We see her take a magnificent tumble into the pool, but when she surfaces, her coach is sternly head-shaking. She corrects Rachel’s form, and after she walks away, Rachel echoes the correction, clearly frustrated with herself. 
Back to Leah. We next see Leah waking up on her lil chunk of flotsam. When she realizes what the hell’s going on, she does what we all would do and starts screaming in terror.
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Her panic gets interrupted by Jeannette’s classic Raise Your Glass ringtone. (This was my alarm for two years in high school, and when I watched this for the first time I did have an out-of-body experience). She swims her way over to the Hello Kitty suitcase and—irrationally—unzips it, but we’ll cut her some slack because she’s in some serious shock. As she tries to get the phone, it slips through her fingers and starts spiraling down to the bottom of the ocean. She dives after it.
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Unfortunately, she quickly runs out of air and has to give up. She then spots Jeannette floating nearby, checks her out, judges her to be “just a little roughed up,” and then sees land and has a big oh-thank-fuck moment. Because we saw Gretchen’s team placing all of the girls, we know that Linh and Leah were the only two that were put out in the open water. The other girls were put in the beach, or, in Martha’s case, near the shore. This was probably done to quell some of Leah’s suspicions about the crash, but it does give me a couple questions about how they got the other girls wet—did they hose them all down? Pour a couple buckets over their heads? Bob each of them up and down a couple times in a big net like fries in a fryer?? 
Anyway, not important. 
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Next that we see, Leah has pulled Jeannette/Linh in from the water. (My Australian parents, who can never pass up an opportunity to give ocean safety tips, chimed in at this point in our first watch to say “See how she’s doing it! You always want to hold someone from behind and pull them in that way. Good job, well done.” So there’s some approval for you, Leah.) As Leah nears the shore, Dot and Toni come tearing in and they help pull the two of them out. 
The rest of the episode after that really only concerns fresh water—Toni and Shelby set out in search of it, to no avail, and Nora helpfully plugs Diet Coke reminds us multiple times that sugar’s heavier than water, so “sugar sinks.” We do set up a goal for the next couple episodes, though: Rachel says, “I'm gonna swim out to the plane tomorrow. See if I can find anything,” and Leah volunteers to come with. Rachel gives her a nod of respect.
Moving on to episode two, we have Rachel and Leah’s (iconic) first real conversation. Rachel says she’s still going out to the wreckage. Leah looks out and looks back at her, incredulous, and says, “Rachel, the water’s insane.” Here’s a big recurring association—the water and “insanity.” (I use insanity here because that’s the language they use, along with psycho/crazy. In no way does that reflect my actual beliefs about their behavior nor am I condoning the way they use those words.) Leah points out the rip current (“well done,” said my mum), and explains her very brief stint as a norcal surfer. Rachel still looks set on going, but then Leah says:
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Turns out, Leah can be as ripe with foreshadowing as Fatin. This marks the appearance of their second main association with the ocean—death. After she says this, Leah turns Rachel’s attention inland, and the two agree to climb a big hill to scope out their situation.
Episode two is also obviously Rachel’s episode, so we see a lot of her relationship with diving. 
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We see her plunge over and over and over again, drilling technique and form, but despite all her hard work, we learn her coach advised her to quit the team. Instead, Rachel throws herself in twice as hard, and ends up with an eating disorder. By the time the nationals come around, she’s too physically weak to dive safely, and she ends up hitting her head as she goes down. She surfaces in the pool with blood flowing around her.
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She refuses to see that as the end of her diving career. She says she’s gonna “get back out there” and “be fucking great again” and she tells Nora at the end of the episode that she needs her to let her believe that.
In episode three, we finally see Leah and Rachel’s trip out to the plane! Nora comes along with them, her relationship with Rachel smoothed over after the events of ep two. “Nora’s a good swimmer,” Rachel explains as she invites her, “We were both water babies.” Water’s clearly been central to Nora and Rachel’s identities since they were really young. 
The three of them make their escape from the rest of the girls as the topic of building a shelter comes up. “Not interested in putting down roots!” Rachel calls. In keeping with the elements theme, Rachel isn’t looking to be grounded. She climbs super high into the air and she dives deep into the water, but earth isn’t her thing. (See: the quicksand scene. Whoops.)
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Anyway, the three of them paddle out into the water. Rachel dives down, scopes out the plane, tells Nora she doesn’t expect her to “fucking free dive in open water,” and then looks to Leah and asks if she’s ready. Leah reluctantly agrees. 
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We get our first shot Rachel swimming down into the ocean and our second shot of Leah (first the phone, second the plane). In the wreckage of the plane, they discover the black box, affixed to the wall. They keep trying to wrench it free, but it’s stuck, and Leah—who’s primary activity is, like, reading—keeps having to surface for air. Rachel gets frustrated and grabs her leg, holding her down. 
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Leah screams and fights, but Rachel doesn’t let go. We cut away, and when we see them again, they’ve emerged victorious (Rachel) and drowned as dogs after a bath (Leah and Nora) with the black box in hand. Later, Leah mutters the above line to Fatin, calling Rachel a “psychopath.” For those keeping score at home, here’s where we refer back to the association between water and “insanity.”
In episode four, the ocean benevolently bestows a bag of takis upon Nora, and we have our whole shelter-building shebang. It’s all very land-based until Leah and Fatin go head to head, which ends with Fatin smearing her blood all over Leah’s face. Leah, with her usual flair, strips off her clothes as she walks into the ocean. She stays down there, passively letting the water wash the blood from her face.
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This shot parallels a couple things. First, the drifting blood visually parallels Rachel in the pool after her diving injury. Second, we have Rachel staring out at the water where Leah’s disappeared and going, “Man, that is some real Virginia Woolf-type shit.” Dot has no fucking clue what she means, so Fatin interprets: “It means that bitch is crazy. She said you were the psychopath of the group.” Now it’s Leah who’s done something in the water that’s been deemed insane. The water and “insanity;” the water and accusations of insanity within their relationship. 
Those accusations pop up in episode five, but the episode is pretty focused on the inland search for Fatin, and revolves around fresh water, not salt water. (That could be a whole nother post lol.) It’s in episode six where we again see these two return to the ocean. 
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Rachel is diving in the ocean! For fun! She’s picking up pretty shells (which granted isn’t the safest thing to do in the pacific, cone snails are not our friends), and she’s grinning, and she’s generally enjoying herself. With the, uh, finale situation, we’re probably not gonna get to see her smile for a bit, which is sad, because she should get to do this more often! This shot visually echoes her diving for the plane and Leah diving for the phone, except she can be in a better mood because there is no end goal. 
So she goes diving, ends up finding a bunch of mussels, gathers ‘em up, and brings ‘em back to camp. They all chow down, but wind up with serious food poisoning. Martha and Toni ring death’s doorbell a couple of times. Rachel blames herself—she’s the one that went swimming out there, she brought the mussels back. Again, we see that connection between the ocean and death.
And that association comes back bright an early in ep seven! The tide surges higher than they’ve ever seen, taking down their shelter and leaving them all scrambling. 
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While Leah convinces Fatin that her life is more important than her suitcase, Rachel is left with a decision: help Nora, screaming to her from where she’s clinging to a rock for dear life, or grab the black box. In a move that contrasts Toni’s immediate and unquestioning aid of Martha, Rachel picks the black box. 
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After, when they’re debriefing, Nora’s quick to bring it up. She doesn’t hide her hurt. “It happened so fast,” she says, “we all acted irrationally. Like Fatin, who jumped into a rip current to save her toothbrush. Or Rachel, who left me for fucking dead.” I think this counts as a double whammy for the “insanity” and death count—I think “acted irrationally” is as close as Nora gets to calling anyone crazy, and is honestly a better descriptor of all the other instances of “insanity” that we’ve seen, and the ocean was the source of the very real risk to Nora’s life. 
(Honestly, I think Rachel thought she was making a rational choice here—just with some grim fucking calculus. Still, given that nobody’d responded to the black box by then, I think it was a decision fueled by the need to keep hold of hope more than actual rationality.) In a fun contrast to the rest of the episode, it’s Leah that keeps a level head in this situation. 
The rest of the episode is low on water scenes, though Leah’s paranoia about Shelby is fueled by her sneaking off to the water, which could fall under the “insanity” category. It also marks where Nora begins to take an active role in breaking apart Rachel’s fantasy about diving again. 
Ep eight has one of the best montages in a series of great montages, with the playing in the water scene! A plane has seen them, they’re gonna be saved, and they all get to get high and act like kids. 
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I have this lingering and probably irrational concern that the entire water play scene is choreographed and that it’s chock-full of foreshadowing. Like I know to some extent they likely were just like “yeah guys go goof off in the water,” but like...the wave pulling Rachel and Nora apart here...I mean.... (Rachel is probably gonna get more blood on Dot in the near future, too. ) That aside, their horseplay gets interrupted when Leah notices some blood on Dot, which Rachel realizes is her own period blood.  
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Fatin then chimes in with her ever-gleeful foreshadowing: “Shark week for Rachel.” So while this whole encounter with the water actually seems mostly good for a change, it’s colored by the tie-in to what we know is coming.
In ep nine, reality has set in that rescue isn’t imminent. Everyone’s starving, Leah has started to spiral, and Rachel’s unusually skittish. By the tide’s edge, Nora asks for her help fishing, but Rachel refuses, saying that she’s weak. Nora flicks water at her, and Rachel flinches, clearly scared.
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Starvation seems to have triggered Rachel’s trauma around the water leftover from her diving accident. In response, Nora reaches out a hand and says, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Meanwhile, Leah’s spiral has reached critical. She starts ranting about the ocean and the water and pushes past Dot, sprinting into the waves:
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And so she’s taken to heart the way they think Jeannette’s body “escaped” the island—the tide—and it’s been spun like cotton candy in her head. She’s right, technically—Jeanette/Linh’s body was moved off the island by boat, and there’s definitely an argument that if they really did all swim out Gretchen’s team would save them, or at least try to. This is also a very real suicide attempt. So it’s kind of a culmination of the threats of death and mental health issues that’ve been wrapped up in the ocean since the start.
On Rachel’s end, Nora has taken her up to a cliff. Rachel calls the whole thing “borderline insane,” walking up when they’re so low on energy, but Nora tells her she needs to make a truce between herself and the water. 
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“You’re afraid of it now,” she says, and Rachel replies that, “All it ever did was make me sick.” Nora immediately surges forward to say “That’s not true!” Rachel, incredulous, says, “Isn't this what you want? For me to hang it up? For me to forget the whole fucking diving game?” Nora says, “No. I don't know. I don't want you to forget you.” She then tells Rachel she should dive off the end of the cliff, that she marked it to make sure it’s safe. Rachel says she can’t.
There’s a lot here. First, there’s the first time we’ve seen of Rachel explicitly call herself sick. In episode two, even in a treatment center, she still denies it, says she’s just an athlete who knows what it takes. But now she’s reached a place where she acknowledges her eating disorder—and also probably her recent illness with the mussels—and ties it directly to the water. It’s the reason she’s sick.
Nora’s fear that Rachel will forget herself also just hammers home how central the water has always been to Rachel’s identity. Cutting herself off from the water would be cutting off a core part of herself. (...whoops) And we’ve seen that it does bring her actual joy, when she’s allowed to relax with it, but she’s had such traumatic associations rolled up into it now. Nora doesn’t want Rachel to do diving as a sport anymore, because of how badly it’s hurt her, but she does want Rachel to keep diving and swimming as like, a form of unevaluated personal expression.
At the moment that Rachel’s refusing to jump, she and Nora hear shouts from the mainland. They see Fatin and Dot screaming after Leah. Confused, Nora asks, “Where is she going?” but Rachel understands immediately, with absolute certainty, without needing to be told—“To fucking drown to death.” Seven episodes after Leah called heading into the water a death wish, she’s finally proving it true. Rachel squares her shoulders, takes a few deep breaths, and sprints into a dive. 
Unlike all her other dives high altitude dives we’ve seen her do, this dive isn’t qualified based on aesthetics. This dive matters because of what it will do, not on how it looks. And what it does do is bring her into the ocean, where she needs to be for her friend. So with strong strokes, she swims out towards Leah.
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When she reaches her, she takes hold of her, pulls her into her chest from behind. She begins to swim with her back to shore. This rescue directly parallels Leah’s rescue of Linh that we talked about above. It also, as the Out in the Wilds podcast insightfully pointed out, really calls Rachel and Leah’s relationship back to the beginning. Whereas Rachel had initially held Leah down in the water, putting her in danger of drowning, Rachel here pulls her out of the water, saving her from drowning. Together, they make it all the way back to the shore.
Finally (and, like, if you’ve made it all the way down here? bless you. thank you), we have episode ten. The ocean doesn’t really figure into episode ten until the very end. Rachel has had a long episode of healing—she’s happy to be full and she’s in a good place with her sister and things seem to be going pretty okay. She decides to heal her relationship with the water, too. She heads out, telling Nora that she’s “Just gonna float, Nor. Just float.”
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Just floating. After all the times we saw her plunging into the water, purposefully, with frustration, with drive, with so much to prove and with so much sacrifice and self-abuse to prove it with, Rachel finally just wants to float. She wants to let herself relax. She wants to let the water carry her.
Of course, that means there has to be, like, a massive marine carnivore waiting to mistake her for a seal.
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Visually, this shot really parallels the opening shot of Leah on the fragment of plane. Instead of being face-down, though, she’s face-up, and she’s conscious, just not of the threat from below. 
The shark bites.
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In a horrible parallel to Leah’s Virginia Woolf moment and Rachel’s diving accident, we see blood pool in the water. Rachel is pulled under. The girls on the land start screaming and running toward her. We know Rachel doesn’t die, but this is still a near-death experience, one that probably cost her her arm. Leah, covered in dirt and her own blood after crawling out of the pit Nora led her into, can only stand and watch, shocked and horrified.
So that got! Way longer than I meant it to! And honestly most of this was condensed into very concise tags in a post I made a few days ago! But if you made it all the way down here, you’ve now seen everything I wanted to fit into that gifset but couldn’t. Thanks for sticking with me, friend <3
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innocence - 28
PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader
WARNINGS: angst
A/N: its angst season again!!
NEXT CHAPTER
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Bucky looked around like a crazed maniac, looking for anyone, just anyone who could be responsible for the letter he was holding in his hands. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins just like they used to when they held him hostage in the Russian base. Those words were tattooed in his retina, as it dawned on him he had once again to keep her safe. His ears started ringing like they always did when they used to trigger him, the ring itself replacing any other environment sound, becoming so loud it fully overcame over his senses, rendering him particularly useless. Not that he was of use lately.
     - Bucky? - Y/N’s sister, Claire, called out to him. Almost mechanically, he stuffed the letter in his back pocket. - Are you okay? You look a bit shocked. Any naughty Christmas post cards?
     - Just a bit ... cold.
     - Yeah, Y/N said you were not very comfortable with it. Sorry about that, I was just trying to keep you away from Aunt Petunia. She’s too much.
     - Thanks, Claire. Hm ... do you have any landline? I need to make a call to the US and my plan is running out. 
     - Yeah, no worries. There’s one in the hall by Y/N’s bedroom. - she gave him a warm smile which was reminiscent of Y/N yet did little to nothing to calm him down. He handed her the rest of the mail before climbing up the stairs to the same hall which had doors on each side. Yet, despite it looking like a maze all he cared about was that small telephone on the table. 
Her picked the phone, leaning it against his ear as the rolled the dial to Steve’s number, the letter firmly mashed in his fist as he wanted nothing more than to burn it in the big fire place but he couldn’t. All he could think of was whoever had broken into Y/N’s flat back had followed them to London and once again he had been incapable of protecting her. He had let whoever was sending her those nasty messages, get to her in one of her most safe places. The other line rang like the passage of long times, until he heard the voice which had become synonymous with freedom and America together.
    - Steve Rogers.
    - Steve, they did it it again. - he snapped before he could even tell who it was on the phone. Yet, if his oldest friend couldn’t figure out his voice after so many years then maybe he needed new friends.
    - Buck?
    - Someone left a letter on her mail box calling her a whore again. You and Natasha were on it trying to figure out who did it in New York. - he continued on like an out of control mess. 
    - Buck, calm down. Was the handwriting similar? Maybe it’s a prank.
    - There’s no handwriting just magazine cut outs and it’s not a prank. 
Y/N stepped out of the car, walking over to the luggage holder to help her father take the shopping bags out while her mother walked up to the door to unlock it before they could climb up the stairs. Her father opened the truck of the small red car which they had had since she was a baby. She still remembered her father picking her up from ballet practice, the red colour bright through the cloudy skies. It always felt so safe to enter through those doors, almost if there was no harm whenever she was inside the old metal vehicle. Things were so simple back then and evil was so hardly defined and bordered away from her. She had had a good childhood, good parents, good family so why was she so scared whenever she was in New York? Why was she so intrinsically insecure and meek?
   - So, beanie, you and James. Does he treat you well? - he asked as he handed her some bags and christmas boxes.
   - He’s just perfect, dad. 
   - Then what is it? 
   - What do you mean? - she looked over her shoulder.
   -  Well, you’re my daughter, you’ve been my daughter for over 5 years now and I like to think I know you better than you think. What’s wrong, Y/N?
   - I’m just homesick, dad. - she faked a smile, pushing her hat further down her head, trying to fiddle with something else. - New York is different from here and well, stardom is different from here. It has nothing to do with Bucky. 
   - He makes you happy?
   - He does. 
    - Then I’m happy for you, beanie. - her father kissed the top of her head, carrying half the shopping bags and gifts onto the home while Y/N stood back looking at the neighbourhood she’d grown up in. It wasn’t perfect, no place in the world is perfect but it had a much more emotional connection to her than her place in SoHo. Of course, maybe it was just her own rose coloured glasses of being away from such a structured, planned 3 year ahead career. 
She smiled softly at the houses in exposed brick shades and the coloured blue and red doors with big gold number. Rows and rows of houses which seemed never ending when she was younger yet now seemed so quickly fading from view. Nothing is everlasting and she remembered so well thinking everything was but maybe it was for the best. Good things end to give way to better ones and bad things end become they no longer suit you.
Y/N looked over her shoulder one last time before entering the house. She put the bags near the other ones neatly stacked by the staircase before pulling her coat and jacket off. The house was always filled with noise, it was never quiet. Always abundant with laughter or discussions about the silly topics. This time, they were discussing some weird plot on the television. However, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. 
   -  Did you not invite Bucky? - she crossed her arms, giving her siblings the dirtiest look she could muster. - Guys, I asked you to include him.
   -  We did but your boyfriend has been on an international call for the last hour. It’s gonna add up. - Colin retorted.
   - I’m gonna go check on him. - she reminded herself to tell Colin off for that backhanded comment but she was much more preoccupied with Bucky. Sure, he did enjoy his loneliness but Y/N didn’t want him to feel alienated. She did not want him to feel lonely or like a stranger in her home. Climbing up the stairwell, she noticed him at the end of the hall, old telephone she used to toy around with when she was a kid pretending to call her family yet, unlike her past childhood self, Bucky had the phone firmly pressed against his ears, lips tight, one hand holding himself against the table. 
She noticed his indisposition, his muscles so tight she wondered how come he hadn’t had a cramp and like any empath she approached him with her characteristic sunny attitude, wrapping her arms around his waist, putting herself on her tip toes to kiss him. Bucky, however, moved his head to the side, mumbling something over on the phone in Russian, switching languages as if he did not want her to hear his conversation. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, her overthinking nature picking at her brain as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Bucky turned around slightly to kiss her on top of her head like one does to a child or a friend. 
    - I’m on a call now, princess. - he held her arm up to wrap it from his waist.
    - Okay. I’ll just go ... go have a shower.
She delayed her exit, almost waiting for him to kiss her like he always did whenever she left. However, Bucky quickly returned to his call, in Russian, and she got the message loud and clear. She tried not to think much about it, after all Bucky was still related to the Avengers and despite being his girlfriend, she was not expect to be into that sort of information. She tried to convince herself of that fact as she stepped onto the cold porcelain of her shower floor. The water fell from her head onto her shoulder as she scrubbed the dirt off her body, constantly telling her inner anxiety, Bucky was merely busy. If she were busy she wouldn’t have liked her partner being clingy. He was busy. 
She turned off the shower, wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe she probably had had since she was 18, hair still damp as she slide her feet into fluffy slippers and walked into her bedroom. Bucky was sat in her bed, laptop on his lap as he typed the keyboard so harshly one would think he’d break the keys. She smiled to herself as she took the side near him, head laying on top his cozy black jumper, probably dampening the fabric but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seen to mind her presence, merely ignoring it. She looked up at him, moving to kiss his jaw with an innocence type of request which was anything but innocent. 
  - Buck. - she said in a sing song type of voice, almost like a mermaid calling out for a sailor. - Why don’t we finish what we started in the airplane?
  - Not today, princess. - he kissed the top of her head once again. - I’m not in the mood for it.
  - Oh ... hum ... okay. - she almost retracted back into her shell at those words. Had she done something this morning? Something to upset him? Maybe he didn’t enjoy her leaving him alone with her family. - Do you wanna go out for dinner?
  - I don’t think it’s wise, princess. They might ... pap us or someth’ng. 
Did he not want to be papped with her? Maybe he was still upset over the pap photos she had willingly given away. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know. Instead, she decided to turn around in the bed, still naked under her bathroom and stare at the wall until she felt sleep weigh on her eyelids. Bucky, on the other side, had his wild eyes glued to the screen, watching the security tape of her apartment over and over again. It had been cut, he knew it had from the time changing sharply, however, he couldn’t see anything which would be of any aid. All he knew was that not only had he failed his job as an Avenger, he failed his job as her bodyguard and failed to protect her like any boyfriend would do. Would it be in a club he could’ve just punched the daylights out of whoever dared to call her that but right now he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to make it stop. 
Bucky closed the laptop, putting it on the floor as he looked through his mind about who could want to hurt her, who cold do anything to want her to suffer. He could no figure it out and all he wanted was to figure it out. He leaned against the bars of her bedpost, looking over to his side to see her sleeping on her side, hand under her face and hair drying in front of his face. He carefully pushed the hair away from her face, tucking her into her large duvet before kissing her cheekbone. He couldn’t bring it upon himself to say anything, to tell her the letter came in. Bucky still remembered how she had reacted last time and he did not want it to happen again, he did not want her to feel unsafe in her own home. Instead, he let himself fast asleep next to her.
The morning woke Y/N up, the strange brightness of a sunny winter day hurting her eyes. She groaned, raising her torso from the bed, eyes blurry as she opened them. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes she extended her arm to notice Bucky’s spot was empty. She furrowed her brows, jumping off bed and walking outside and down the stairs onto the living room where most of her siblings and their partners were.
    - Wow, Y/N. Clothes under the bathrobe, much? - Eloise teased. 
    - Where’s Bucky? - she ignored her sister.
    - He went out. - Claire added, handing her a cup of tea. - Said he had to grab some stuff. 
    - Oh ... okay. He didn’t say anything.
    - He probably didn’t want to wake you up. - Claire patted her shoulder, kind smile on her lips. 
     - Or maybe he’s cheating on you. - Colin added, only to be slapped over the head by Eloise. - Hey, what was that for? I was joking.
     - He’s not cheating on you. - Claire reassured her. - Colin is just being an ass. 
     - What? I was joking!  
     - Not with Y/N, you idiot. - Eloise muttered under her breathe. - Maybe you should go put your clothes on, Y/N. Bucky is probably just Christmas gift shopping.
     - Or maybe he got lost? He is like 200 years old. Did you give him a pager? He might be lost in Piccadilly Circus or maybe he can’t get out the underground. 
     - Fuck off, Colin. - Y/N snapped at him before returning up to her bedroom.
He knew her brother was just trying to get under her skin. Bucky was not cheating on her, when did he even have time to find someone in London to cheat her with? Maybe he had some contacts in London from when he used to come to missions with the Avengers. Maybe he had someone in London for him. No. No, Bucky did not. Bucky wouldn’t cheat on her, Bucky liked her but he was acting out of style to him. She sat on her bed, hand in the middle of her legs as she tried to stop herself from overthinking things that were absolutely ridiculous. Since she was no good at doing such thing, she called the only person who normally could push her back to reality. 
    - Chuck? I have a problem. 
    - Jesus, Y/N. Have you forgotten time zones? - Chuck groaned on the other side of the line. - You better be dying.
    - Bucky is acting weird. 
    - Bucky always acts weird. What’s your point?
    - I don’t know, Chuck. It feels weird. I even tried ... initiating IT and he said no. Do you think he’s not attracted to me anymore? He didn’t even want to kiss me
    - Maybe he was not in the mood, Y/N. Also, why are you so freaked out about saying sex? Are you sexually repressed? Did you try to initiate some kinky sex with Bucky and maybe his old man penis wasn’t okay with it?
    - Can we not discuss my boyfriend’s penis, please?
    - What? He’s old, maybe it hasn’t been getting up. Did you ask him? Maybe he forgot to pack Viagra and he’s ashamed. 
    - Chuck. It is not that.
    - I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe spice it up. Dress up like Princess Leia in Empire Strikes Back. Every man is into it.
    - Bucky hasn’t seen Star Wars.
    - I don’t know what was sexually appealing in the 40s, Y/N. Don’t you have that lingerie set they made you wear for Rocky Horror? Use that. Maybe he really just wasn’t in the mood.
    - Okay ... yeah. Uhm, maybe it will work. 
    - Great. Now, I need to sleep because it is too late and there’s a girl in my bed and I don’t want her to think I have you on the side.
    - Oh, is she a nice girl?
    - Y/N ever since you lost your virginity you get very boring when you don’t get a dick appointment. Go on and do it with Bucky and we’ll talk later.
    - Okay, thank you.
    - Bye, bye. 
Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. She never really saw herself a sexual being or a sexual girl at all. After all, she was the one who got told by three guys at her university freshers party she had the sexual charisma of a toaster. Now the metaphor did not make any sense but all she knew was that it probably did not make any sense. It wasn’t that she wasn’t comfortable with her own sexuality, she just didn’t think about it outside of work. Maybe Bucky was used to girls who put a bit more effort and wasn’t very attracted to her very old bathrobe and her Marks and Spencers cotton underwear. She shrugged it off, opening her wardrobe to skim through some of the costumes she had worn until she found the white lacy set. It was better than her regular cotton underwear. She put her robe back on looking at herself in the mirror as she gave herself a pep talk. He’s not cheating on her. She knows he would never do that.
She sat down in her bed, going over some scripts sent over by the agency until midday when Bucky came into the bedroom, on the phone with someone else, still speaking Russian. She waited for him to finish his call before she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. 
    - Sorry for not telling you, Y/N. I had to make some calls with the team.
    - It’s okay. - she smiled at him. - I was just thinking maybe ... maybe we could have some us time. My parents went to do the groceries and my siblings won’t bother us, besides I have something I want to show you.
    - Sorry, not in the mood. I need to call Steve. - he took his jacket off, putting it on the edge of her bed. - It’s urgent, princess.
    - Oh, okay. 
    - Can I use the landline? Pretty sure I still haven’t figured out  how to make international calls. 
    - Yeah. - he kissed the top of her head once more. 
She sat on her bed defeated. Her mind going through everything she could’ve possibly done wrong the morning she left with her parents. Maybe he really wasn’t in the mood, however he did seem pretty eager that morning. She sighed. Damned Colin and his stupid backside comment. She sighed, rolling in her bed, the movement making his jacket fall to the ground. Great Y/N, now you’re wrinkling his clothes. She got up from her bed to grab the jacket for a letter to fall on the ground. She looked to the side, leaning down to pick the letter only to drop it once she saw the writing. You cannot hide, whore.  She grabbed it from the ground before storming out to the hall, pulling the cable out the wall, effectively stopping Bucky’s call.
   - When were you gonna tell me?
taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​
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wizkiddx · 3 years
Text
...surprise part 2
warnings: tw for miscarriage , mh and eating disorder(though more like just really poor relationship with food) - please don’t read if these are sensitive topics
There will be a part 3!! This is v sad, um but from experience a bit so I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, if this offends anyone please message me and I will take it down if that’s what you want xx
(this is fictional, and everyone’s experiences are different)
[part 1]
By the time it came to dinner at his parents there was still very much an elephant in the room. Tom had sort of assumed that later in the morning you’d properly explain it, at least bring it up? But you’d skilfully managed to dance your way out of the conversation every time there was the opportunity to talk it out. For example, even though Tom was pretty sure you’d already washed you hair this morning apparently you had to take the worlds longest shower in the world in preparation for his parents roast. It also didn’t go unnoticed that you’d locked the ensuite door while you were in there.
Now this might not seem odd to most but Tom knew this wasn’t right. You were 3 years deep at this point and when Tom was home the two of you really used to make the most of it- barely leaving each others side. This meant brushing your teeth together, showering and bathing together - or at least one perched on the bathroom shower while the other was washing. Just doing the mundane together, that was the intimate thing- it didn’t have to be sexual or encroaching personal space. Clockwork, that’s what it was. It had taken a bit of time at the start for you to open up and be body confident in front of Tom, yet you were both long since past that point - or so you had been. With every ounce of your being, you knew that Tom loved you for you. Frankly though, that was the issue… you weren’t you. Your body had changed , or rather withered away and that was your fault. Yet another thing to add to the list. Being conciously aware of how unattractive you looked, literally a shell of yourself, there was only a wave of sad acceptance to surged through when you did lock the door.
Because in your head you. knew. This was the beginning of the end of your time with Tom and it was all your fault.
/////////////////////////
“I can help with that.” Y/n’s voice got Nikki turning away from the sink where she was attempting to make a dent in the huge pile of washing up Sam had accumulated - the boy could most definitely cook, but clean up? Not one bit.
“No no dear you go sit with them.” She shooed and smiled kindly at the girl she thought of as an adopted child herself. Because honestly? She looked like she could pass out at any point just from standing up. She clearly tried to hide it- wearing a baggy knitted sweater and mom jeans- but even just from her face, you could tell she was gaunt.
“I-no I’ll dry.” Y/n spoke very matter of factly , making Nikki just nod in agreement since this was probably the most conversation anyone had got out of Y/n since she arrived.
Tom had texted them all before hand, with the very unspecific message of ‘please don’t mention anything she’s just been ill and stressed’ and followed up with ‘I really mean it.’ Unsurprisingly, everyone had lots of questions given the ambiguity of the message, however these were all answered as soon as the door had opened to the couple. So dinner went down quieter than normal, everyone noticing how protective Tom was being of Y/n - who never ever normally needed protection, (in fact sometimes the other way round).
So Nikki and Y/n stood side by side, silently washing up. They must’ve stood that way for 10 or so minutes, Nikki hesitant to say something that was wrong, but desperately wanting to break the silence. But Y/n took that job out of your hands.
“How did you find out you were pregnant with Tom?”
“Oh god now your making me think” Nikki laughed, suddenly so relieved at an easy topic “um I think it was a bit of a shock you know? We had spoken about kids but weren’t actively trying for one and then all of a sudden I was sick and took a test.”
“So Dom was happy about it though?”
“Of course he was over the bloody moon. The man was meant to be a dad you know? At least I think he’s pretty good at it.” Y/n giggled lightly at the question and nodded vehemently.
“Yeh he is… I think all your boys are - when I brought my cousins.” Y/n smiled a little at the memory of bringing her two toddler cousins round to Tom’s family home. Safe to say that day the kids were spoilt with attention and food and had all the boys wrapped round there little fingers.
“You might just be right there. Are you and Tom trying?” Nikki probed, testing the waters a little.
“No.” Y/n closed that thought path down very very quickly. “I er… I was just wondering.”
“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“
“No no it’s fine.”
Back to the silence of the washing up, the occasional clink of ceramics and culterlry clanging together reverberating through the otherwise empty kitchen.
“So you never had….um any issues with kids. No…er no losses or scares?”
Nikki suddenly had a much better guess at what this whole situation was about.
“One…. I lost a baby girl between the twins and Paddy. It-it hurt a lot and you know I still wonder sometimes. We just never had a little girl and it well, it would have been amazing… but I’m a firm believer of everything happens and if we never had that angel we maybe wouldn’t have Pads…”
“I’m sorry” Y/n muttered, Nikki noticing how her eyes were absolutely fixed on the frying pan she was drying up.
“I don’t mind love, and I think she’s still with us in her own special way you know.” Nikki studied how Y/n silently nodded, thinking it were going to drift back to silence - yet instead she gulped before speaking.
“I don’t think I want kids now. I do- but not right now. Just Tom’s still so busy and we aren’t married but-“ Y/n’s pace of talking suddenly dramatically picked up and Nikki could hear a wobble in her voice “but… no-one does the sort of nuclear family anymore do they? I mean suppose I did want that and-…. I don’t know but it would’ve worked out right?Like-like if I… if we um“
“Y/n love, please I just need to ask because I care about you… Did you loose a pregnancy?” Nikki hit the metaphorical hole in one. Although she was pretty certain before she’d even asked, the way Y/n froze and fear took over her expression said it all.
“I-“ Y/n stammered before forcing a controlled breath out through her nose, still looking down, now on the cutlery drying process. “I- yeh. I couldn’t do it and they-“ Nikki interrupted her, the tears brimming to such an extent the started escaping over Y/n’s eyelashes as Nikki took both the tea towel and forks out her hand.
“Come with me.” Nikki whispered in Y/n’s ear, directing her out the kitchen - leading Y/n’s small frame into Dom’s office, mainly because it was the opposite side of the house to where everyone else was.
She got Y/n sat down on the small striped sofa and joined her after retrieving a box of tissues from the window sill. At this point Y/n was properly crying, no matter how much she tried to swallow back her feelings or wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Nikki read the girl like a book, watching her try to bite back the pain.
“Love, you take a breath and then tell me what you want to.” Y/n was the one that brought up the topic, Y/n was the one that searched Nikki out that evening. Nikki knew she needed to get this off her chest.
“I found out just after Tom left for Atlanta and-and I was… I was pretty late anyway at that point, I think like …like 9 weeks they said? And I was terrified because we weren’t ready and Tom said he wanted kids in the future but not now and then…then they happened. I hated them at the start. They’d ruined my life I’d have to quit work because lets face it Tom just wouldn’t be around and then…. But-but I don’t know… I was waiting till Tom was supposed to get back. Cos then I’d have the scan picture and you sort of can’t say ‘I’m pregnant’ over the phone so. So yeh.” Nikki nodded, squeezing Y/n’s had gently, encouraging her to continue. “But then I had the scan and they had a heartbeat you know? Suddenly I was so in love with the little blob in my stomach and I was like it will all work out, because it just would and-and Tom-“Her voice cracked again, Y/n bit back the sob though and continued “Tom would be the best dad anyone could ever imagine.” Nikki exhaled heavily, pulling Y/n into her chest as she cried a bit more. Giving her a chance to ground herself again. It took a moment or two but then Nikki pressed a little again.
“He doesn’t know about any of this… does he?” Nikki knew this was something more than just telling her almost mother-in-law. This was Y/n telling someone , anyone, else for the first time. Speaking the words the first time. Making it hurt all over again. The answer wasn’t really needed, but Y/n still shook her head against Nikki’s shoulder, confirming her suspicions.
And then Nikki waited, waited for her to speak again.
“And then it was two weeks ago and I-I was 14 weeks. I had a bump and everything! But I was at dinner with my friend and I got this horrid pain in my stomach. And I knew it. I knew I….I had wished my baby away for weeks and weeks and they’d given up. I ran home and bled my baby away into the drain. And…..” She took a shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. “And I I was grieving I think? Well I think I still am. But I couldn’t eat and it was just like I didn’t do enough for them? So-so I was supposed to be getting my life sorted and you know getting over it this week before Tom came back. But then he came home last night and I-I had a migraine so I didn’t notice him until this morning. He-he was never supposed to see me like-like this! So-so I shouted at him, I was really mean. Really really horrid to him which is stupid because I love him so much and….and I killed his baby.” Y/n’s voice was raised as it also got more fragile - completely synchronised with Y/n herself, who looked like she was going to crack and break at any point.
It was important that she went through the whole story. It was important the Nikki just listened as she recounted the traumatic, vulnerable and oh so personal loss she’d gone through. It was important she let it out into the world for the first time.
“Y/n… look… these things just happens sometimes right? It’s no ones fault and… I know that the day you are blessed with a little baby you will be an incredible mother. I’d love to say I could somehow make you feel better but I’m not sure I can… when this sort of thing happened to me I needed Dom. He held me together and then picked up the pieces and - well we slowly put them back together. So you know why I can’t really help, don’t you?” Y/n sniffed, her eyes closed, but eventually after letting Nikki let silence in the air she nodded minutely. Nikki squeezed her palms tightly, as she looked at the girl with such deep empathy and sympathy. She could only imagine how traumatic it must be tp have this happen with your first child - especially without anyone else to lean on.
“Because you’re not Tom?” With an agreeing nod, Nikki stood up , withdrawing her hands from Y/n’s grip; rubbed up and down Y/n’s back before finally offering a plan.
“Look, I’ll go get him and you tell him what you told me okay? He loves you and he’s worried.”
After a little more comvinving and encouragement, Y/n steeled her nerve as Nikki fetched Tom. The two woman had agreed that the couple would just go back to their home, where Y/n, in her own space would tell Tom. Here she didn’t feel as if she could - this was unequal territory, this was Tom’s childhood home. Nikki knew that this fact would really be irrelevant - it only mattered if the couple somehow called it quits… and she knew without doubt that’d never happen.
///////////////////////////
Tom walked in quietly, clearly having been briefed that something was going on, taking notice of the tear tracks Y/n’d tried to wipe away and just how small and vulnerable she looked. Wordlessly, Tom crouched in front of her, his deep brown eyes swimming with warmth as they met hers.
“Mum said you wanted to go home… is that still okay?” She nodded jerkily in agreement, wiping her eyes once again before taking Tom’s hand as he guided her to stand. Nikki gave her a sad smile as her son led the two of them out the room and forward the front door.
It was hard- no doubt- but she had absolute faith in the relationship between the two.
They’d be okay.
Tagging people who were interested : @vanillanestor @thevelvetseries @333dolans
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sincerelystranger · 3 years
Note
I just read both parts of your modern au and I wanna cry 😭 Lwj is just so whipped for wwx and I really loved it!!!! Do you plan on writing more?
More of the modern highschool AU! 
---
Wangji settles into bed and stares at the ceiling.
It’s rare that sleep evades him, but tonight, he feels strange and sad and his heart is too confused to let him fall asleep.
It’s the anniversary of his parents’ passing and it’s been a decade now since they passed and the pain of their loss is now more like a heavy ache on his shoulders and less like a sharp punch to the gut like it used to be – but that’s not the reason for his strange mood.
It’s silly and childish and a little bit mortifying but…
But he had to leave school early today to go visit his parents’ graves and because of that he hadn’t been able to walk home with Wei Ying…
It’s mortifying to feel upset about that – Wangji knows this. And he feels guilty for being more upset about losing out on his daily walk with Wei Ying than mourning the loss of his parents…
It’s just a walk…
Just…
Wangji’s phone buzzes suddenly on his desk.
Who could possibly be calling him this late? It must be spam. He’s tempted to ignore it but, perhaps due to his strange mood, he sighs and gets up to answer his phone.
He looks at his phone, fully prepared to press the ignore call button, but the name on the screen stops him.
Wei Ying.
He answers the phone quickly, his heart suddenly beating very loud in his chest.
“Hello?” he says hesitantly.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying greets cheerfully.
The strange sadness in Wangji’s chest immediately quiets at the sound of Wei Ying’s voice. He’s almost embarrassed for himself at how easy he is.
“Were you sleeping, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks.
“No,” Lan Zhan answers, careful not to sound too eager.  
“Mm, that’s good,” Wei Ying says. The noise around him is loud, windy, it sounds like he’s outside.
“Are you outside?” Lan Zhan asks worriedly. It’s cold out and it’s supposed to snow tonight. Wei Ying should be inside! Warm and safe and inside!  
“I am!” Wei Ying says delightedly, and he laughs like it’s funny. “How did you know, Lan Zhan? Are you watching me?”
“Silly,” Wangji says, but he can’t help but smile. Wei Ying is always so quick to laugh. So easy to amuse. It’s charming and too cute for Wangji to endure sometimes. “Why are you outside? It’s cold.”
“I’m on an important mission, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says seriously, but it’s pointless because Wangji can hear the smile in his voice.
“Boring,” Wangji says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Mean,” Wei Ying replies, but he sounds so fond that it makes Wangji’s ears go hot.
There’s a slight lull in their conversation. Wangji listens to the background noise on Wei Ying’s side and wracks his brain for things to say. He wants to keep this conversation going. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants Wei Ying to keep talking…
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, breaking Wangji from his internal dilemma, “hum that song for me – the one you wrote!”
“No,” Wangji says, feeling embarrassed. Wei Ying doesn’t know…
“Come on! Please!” Wei Ying whines, “I’m outside and it’s cold and listening to that song will be my only comfort.”
“Go inside,” Wangji replies.
“I can’t. I’m on a mission!” Wei Ying says.
“What is this mission?” Wangji asks.
“It’s a secret mission. Someone I care about is a bit sad today – I’m going to try to make them happy,” Wei Ying says, and Wangji feels a little bit... jealous? Who is this mission for? Why is Wei Ying calling Wangji if he’s on some secret mission for someone else…  
“Come on,” Wei Ying says again, “Hum that song for me, please?”
“You know the song as well as I do,” Wangji says softly, his ears growing hot again as he remembers how Wei Ying whistled it on his way out of the classroom. “You hum it.”
“I like it when you hum it,” Wei Ying says petulantly, “Besides, I had to walk home alone today and now I’m on this secret mission – braving the cold and the outside alone! Hum me the song, Lan Zhan – please~”
Wangji bites his lip and considers Wei Ying’s plights. If he’s honest with himself, he’s delighted that Wei Ying complained about walking home alone.
Maybe Wangji wasn’t the only one feeling sad about that…
Maybe Wei Ying missed him too…
Maybe he can indulge Wei Ying this once…
He starts humming the song, valiantly fighting against his own embarrassment at the situation.  He feels awfully silly humming his silly love song to Wei Ying as he sits in his room alone.
But if this is what Wei Ying wants…
Well, if Wangji is honest with himself, he’s never been able to deny Wei Ying anything anyway.
Wei Ying is quiet when Wangji finishes humming his song.
Wangji is quiet too, sitting in his strange emotion of embarrassment and pleasure. He counts the seconds that Wei Ying is quiet on the other end of the line.
One. Two. Three. Four.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says finally, and his voice is breathless.
“Mn?” Wangji hums, trying his best to sound calm and collected and not nervous at all.
“Lan Zhan, look outside of your window.”
Wangji stands and walks over to his window.
Wei Ying grins widely up at him, waving his arm wildly.
Wangji is speechless. He can’t do anything but stare. He thinks his mouth might be open in shock.
“Aren’t you happy to see me, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks through the phone, and only then does Wangji have the sense to open the window.
“What are you doing here?” Wangji asks, still through the phone, because his room is on the second floor, and he’s sure that shouting down to Wei Ying will awaken his uncle.
“My secret mission,” Wei Ying says. He puts his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls something out. “I’m gonna throw this, okay? Make sure to catch it.”
Wangji is so lost and confused, but he nods. He puts his phone down on the window will and prepares to catch whatever Wei Ying is going to throw at him.
Wei Ying tosses the object up to him and Wangji catches it easily with both hands.
He brings his phone back to his ear as he inspects the object Wei Ying threw at him. It’s a small wooden box, it has legs and it looks like it would open.
“Open it,” Wei Ying says.
Wangji opens it carefully, his eyes on Wei Ying the entire time.
Tinkling music starts to play. One note after the other a familiar melody takes shape.
“I had to guess the notes so it might not be perfect,” Wei Ying says.
Wangji’s heart feels in danger of bursting. His eyes burn and his throat aches. “It’s perfect,” he says softly. He closes it suddenly, because he thinks that if he hears anymore he really might cry.
“You wrote a really good song, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, smiling up at Wangji. His cheeks are red from the cold and his eyes are sparkling and… “I hope it brings you as much comfort as it brings me.”
“Mn,” Wangji nods. He holds the little music box tightly in his hand, feeling so overwhelmed and so undeserving that he aches. He feels too big for his skin and he almost wants to jump out of this window and…
“Okay, mission completed!” Wei Ying laughs. He waves at Wangji again. “Goodnight, Lan Zhan!”
“Goodnight,” Wangji replies, still feeling shell-shocked.
Wei Ying ends their call and puts his phone into his pocket. He smiles widely one more time and turns to leave.
“Wait!” Wangji yells suddenly – not caring if it wakes his uncle or not.
Wei Ying turns to look up at him in confusion.
Wangji runs to his closet and pulls out his scarf. He hurriedly throws it down to Wei Ying.
Wei Ying catches it and wraps it around his neck. He winks at Wangji and turns to leave again.
“I love you,” Wangji says quietly, watching Wei Ying as he jumps over the fence. “I love you.”
Wei Ying turns around when he hits the street and waves to Wangji again.
Wangji waves back.
“I love you.”
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mctherofdragons · 3 years
Text
Kiss Me | G.W.
Tumblr media
Pairing: George Weasley x Reader
Summary: Two best friends realize maybe there’s something more between them. Based on the song Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. Post-War!AU.
Warnings: breakup, alcohol, mentions of Fred passing away, some angst at the very beginning, other than that just straight up fluffiness
Request: The sweetest request from @weasleysflowr​ - “i was hoping i could request a george weasley fluff fic, maybe based on “kiss me” by ed sheeran? thank you in advance, i hope you have a fantastic day/night!”
Author’s Note: Aylison! I loved writing this so much. I’m a huge Ed Sheeran fan, so his songs honestly inspire so much of my writing. By the way, I’ve met Ed, and I fully believe he should be an honorary Weasley. I hope you enjoy this George fluff! PS: Song lyrics are in bold.
_______________________________
George Weasley was, without a doubt, the best mate you’d ever had. You could recall vividly the day your parents brought you to Platform 9¾. Before leaving the house, you had melted down in tears. The concept of going to Hogwarts and being surrounding by more well-off children was a nightmare to you. You were convinced that the other students in your year would relentlessly make fun of your hand-me-down robes and old, ratty wand. Your mother and father, however, had insisted that it was too late to change your mind now. So, off you went to the Hogwarts Express, resolute that you would be tormented for the next several months.
Conversely, when two identical twins introduced themselves to you on the train, your anxiety had vanished. They understood you, and this made a world of difference. You clung close to the Weasleys all throughout your schooling. You’d often helped them with their homework when they slacked off. In turn, they’d pull pranks on your bullies in defense of you. The laughter shared between you, Fred, and George was the soundtrack to your teenage years.
When Fred passed, George had become a shell of himself. You spent days with him, just to ensure he was eating enough food and bathing himself. Through it all, he clung to you. You would lay in his bed for hours, often listening to the rain beat against the roof, humming softly to him. You would allow him to weep, soaking your h/n tee-shirt with tears. There was never any judgement or pleas for him to control his grief. You were - as the twins always joked - a sister from another mister.
Thus, it was no surprise that when your partner broke up with you unexpectedly, George was armed and ready to assist. He showed up to your flat with your favorite bottle of wine, chocolates, and a cheesy romantic comedy on DVD. You opened the door, sighing when you saw him.
“I don’t want to hang out with anyone, George.”
“Please, let me come in, y/n. I’m worried about you.”
The sincerity in his brown eyes made you give in. You opened your door wider for him, allowing him to come in and set his belongings down on the coffee table. You rubbed your eyes, which George noted were puffy from crying. He glanced over you. He noted to himself that you were still absolutely gorgeous in your Hogwarts Alumni hoodie and grey sweatpants.
You plodded over to your couch, sitting down with a huff. You pulled your knees close to your chest. As you laid your head on your knee caps, you glanced up at your friend. All at once, your tears began to leak from your eyes again.
“They didn’t deserve you,” George cut in, sighing softly. This just made you weep harder, now closing your eyes to let a few sobs come out.
You moved to allow George to sit next to you, taking the throw blanket from off the back of the couch. He wrapped it around your shoulders and pulled you close to him.
“You are lovely, in every way, please don’t ever forget that,” he squeezed you tighter to him. You inhaled contently, letting a few salty tears spill down your cheeks. The familiar scent and warmth of George brought some piece to your achiness.
After you’d cried for quite some time, you’d allowed George to put the movie on. You sipped your wine slowly, tossing your head back whenever the main characters got into some kind of shenanigans. Like always, laughing with George was like a warm balm over the breaks in your heart.
At some point, both George and yourself had fallen asleep on the couch. Wine had a tendency to make you both sleepy, and after some mindless conversation about politics, you both were tuckered out.
You opened your eyes, glancing at the clock on your cell phone. It was past midnight, and you shook George’s shoulder.
“Georgie,” you whispered. The redhead continued to snore, probably caught up in some sort of dream about the leading lady from the movie you’d just watched. “George,” you had to repeat yourself, a bit louder this time. He opened one eye, groaning.
“I’m going to go to my bed,” you explained, handing him the blanket you had been using. He sat up a bit, rubbing his eyes. But just then, you remembered how cold your bed had for the past few days. It felt so much bigger and emptier than before.
“George....I’ve been having trouble sleeping...will you...lay down with me?”
Your question even shocked yourself. But George nodded, not even thinking twice about your offer. He desired to be a comfort to you, simply because he loved you. Although lately, George had found himself torn between the manner in which he admired you.
He followed you into the bedroom, crawling beneath your grey blankets with you. Each of you snuggled down deeper beneath the comforter, finding spot that felt most satisfying. You laid together for a little while, not speaking. Both you and George had turned onto your sides, gazing into each other’s eyes. George reached up and moved a stray hair behind your ear. You moved to press your head into the crook of his neck.
His heart picked up speed as he felt your lips dance on the skin of his neck. He gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. Inside of him, a little spark of annoyance had rose to the surface. Not toward you, but rather, toward the one who had hurt you. How could anyone let such an angel walk away?
“I want to be loved,” the words spilled from your mouth, your breath dancing against George’s throat. You felt George’s warm hand reach down and pull your chin up. You looked into his eyes. You expected the familiar feeling of jitters in your stomach, but rather, you just felt safe.
“Kiss me,” he said quietly. His voice was barely audible. You allowed him, pressing your lips against his. He moved a hand down to beneath your jaw, pulling you in to deepen the kiss. He moved himself on top of you and you obliged, allowing him to kiss your neck gently. You pulled back, gazing into his brown eyes for a moment. You realized suddenly that all of the chasing other people, the heartbreaks, and nights spent running after people who didn’t want you back were pointless. It was futile because George was the one you were meant to love all along.
“This feels like falling in love,” George said. His words made you realize that he was coming to the same epiphany you were.
“We’re falling in love,” you answered certainly.
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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years
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Chapter Two
Hiiii! Okay, soooo I wanted to get the new chapter out ASAP! I really, really love any of you guys who read/kudoed/commented or anything on AO3 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Means the world to me.
As I mentioned on here yesterday, my one eye is basically sore and I went to the eye doctor and basically can’t wear my contacts for a few days. So because of my how nearsighted I am and the fact that I haven’t updated my glasses prescription in over a decade .... I edited this chapter on my phone? So yeah. I think it turned out just as well as any of my other writing but ya know. For verification, if there’s some mistakes here or there. Ya girl was tryin, ok. 😂😂😂😂😅😅😅😅😬😬😬😬😬😬.
Okay anyways I’ll stop talking, here’s the next chapter :
“You just have to get to know her,” Peeta claimed. “Bailey’s a good person. Don’t let her outer shell fool you.”
What I really wanted to ask him was how he ever got beyond her—as he so delicately phrased it—outer shell.
Never big on social interactions, on top of being generally awful at making friends, I did my best to get all the information Peeta would willingly offer about his new, mysterious girlfriend, before having to deal with her directly.
Which wasn’t much. Peeta, the boy who gossiped about his father wanting to marry my mother while we were in a televised death match, who seemed to always have some insight on other people, who never hesitated to share his gossip with me before now, suddenly had tight lips when it came to Bailey Robyn.
The biggest emission I got from him was, “she had a childhood a lot like mine.”
I don’t know what that means? Bailey was the child of District Nine’s baker? District Nine had a class divide as well and she was of a merchant equivalent? She was a popular wrestler?
And then it hit me all at once. Like a train storming for the Capitol, it hit me with crushing force. Peeta never confirmed the fact, but the look in his eyes when I made the guess was enough to suggest I was right.
Bailey also grew up with an abusive mother. Just like Peeta.
The idea was a lot for me to process suddenly. I knew people who looked perfect could hide dark secrets. Peeta and Finnick Odair were both evidence of this. But for some reason I was taken aback by the notion that Bailey, who seemed so lively and pristine and collected, could have come from a violent and vicious household like the Mellark’s.
I mentally berated myself for the shock. How many times had strangers misjudged me in the last couple of years? How much had that infuriated me to find out?
When I go over to Haymitch’s house the following week for dinner, I make considerable effort in preparing myself to see Bailey sitting at the table.
And I’m not disappointed.
Bailey Robyn is sitting in the dining room when I walk in, half her hair gracefully combed into a cascading updo, looking as porcelain and perfect as ever. In her hand is a cookie covered in pink frosting, her mouth pulled up in a sparkling white smile as she laughs at something Haymitch has said.
Evidently Bailey puts my old mentor in a good enough mood, because he gives her a real genuine grin in reply.
Before turning to me with a scowl, of course. “Well, sweetheart, look who decided to join us?”
“I’m on time, Haymitch,” I immediately grumble, eyeing him with aggravation.
“If we give or take twenty minutes.”
But Bailey apparently wants to be my buffer. “Like you’ve ever been on time for anything, Haymitch Abernathy,” she retorts, looking at me knowingly. Like she’s trying to let me in on her joke. Like we’re old friends, who gang up on Haymitch together all the time.
A part of me feels displaced, as this interaction, if I didn’t know better, gives me the idea that I’m the odd one out and Bailey is the aquatinted one in this dynamic. But still, I take a deep breath and smile back in her direction.
I promised Peeta I would try. I promised to give Bailey a chance. And I’m not going to break another promise to him.
Not after everything that’s happened to him because of me.
Before I can find a semi-conversational thing to say back though, more voices join us.
“Katniss!” Delly chirps, rounding the corner from Haymitch’s pigsty living room with Peeta by her side.
“Oh, look who finally showed up,” Peeta says, teasing me.
I have an entirely different reaction to him nudging me versus Haymitch. Instead of getting defensive, I feel myself immediately blush, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got held up in the woods.” My words somehow get choked in with a giggle and Peeta smirks in response.
Luckily for me, Bailey seems to not mind our interaction. Instead she laughs once again. “Held up in the woods by what?” She murmurs curiously.
“Knowing her?” Haymitch mutters, eyeing at me wryly. “Squirrels.”
/
I give the night my best effort. I talk to Bailey, ask her questions—pretend not to notice how elusive her answers are—and plaster a completely fake smile across my face, trying my best to appear as sweet and as pleasant as I am capable of.
However, by the end, I’m so glad Delly is there by my side that, without hesitating to think about it, I invite her to be a permanent member of our weekly dinners. If Peeta can bring Bailey every time—as I suspect he will—I can surely have someone here too. Someone else who is a bit apprehensive about the new addition, someone who doesn’t think I’m just blatantly rude for remaining on my guard.
I expected Haymitch, at least, would be a little unsure about Bailey. I expected he’d be at least slightly cautious of her presence. But instead the opposite seems to be true.
Instead Haymitch almost seems more apprehensive about me being at dinner.
Every time I glance at Peeta too long, every time I cringe—in my mind, internally, but evidently the old, paunchy man notices—when Bailey plants her lips all over Peeta, I feel him kick me in the leg, step on my foot, nudge me roughly as he passes by.
Delly finds the whole thing really funny. She finds Haymitch and my subsequent glares and glances more entertaining than any of the stories Bailey shares about District Nine.
And Delly Cartwright has never been one for subtly. She’s never been one for holding back her emotion either.
What should be her quiet chuckles are loud, snorting giggles and her standard laughs are practically hysterics.
And I find unexpectedly, when mixed with such a tense air, the sound of her boisterous laughter cracks even me up. Even Haymitch smiles a little.
Of course, the fact that this conjures up an image of me and Delly sharing some kind of inside joke is sort of an unexpected gift. I only realize it after the fact, but the idea that it looks like me and Delly are laughing together makes me feel suddenly less alone. Makes me feel suddenly like I belong here again.
Bailey is pleasant enough, I note to myself. She smiles in all the right places when someone else speaks, she manages to softly laugh in all the appropriate spots, she tell us vague details about her home in Nine easily enough.
Apparently she was born and raised on a farm, learned to produce grain from a young age and left her parents’ home at fourteen.
She makes no mention of the abuse Peeta implied but I never expected she would. It takes practically a microscope to uncover it in Peeta’s own tales. And even that’s from my point of view. An outsider who didn’t survive two games and a war with him would be hard-pressed to decipher it at all out of the stories he tells. I anticipated Bailey would be just as allusive.
I did not anticipate however, that Bailey would grow so uncomfortable when asked where she lived after she left her parents’ home. I didn’t expect her to look around the room in an abrupt, stiff silence, that she would stare past the walls of Haymitch’s home with a glassy look in her stone blue eyes, or that she would stand from the table without warning and flee down the hall.
And I’m thankful now that it was Delly who asked the question and not me, as surely my old mentor, who’s nearly smashed by this point, would find a way to cast the blame onto me.
“Did I say something wrong?” Delly asks, genuinely disturbed that she apparently must have hurt Bailey. She may not be her biggest fan, but Delly Cartwright isn’t one to intentionally upset people.
Peeta hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s just... it’s nothing you did, Delly,” he promises but his voice is far away now too, and his gaze flickers towards the hall the blonde disappeared down.
Still, Delly bites her lip in fear she caused an issue and excuses herself from the table in a haste, offering to clean everyone’s dishes.
Neither me nor Peeta—or even Haymitch himself—say not to bother. The house itself is in atrocious condition after the decades of neglect and washing the dishes will only cover the plates in grim and mold instead of food. But it’s not about the actual cleansing of the dishes and we all know it. It’s about avoidance.
Something the three of us know more about than anyone ever should.
I use the given opportunity to catch Peeta’s eye. “What’s going on?” I murmur under my breath, hoping Haymitch wouldn’t insert himself into the conversation for once, that he won’t shut my question down and bark at me for being nosy.
“Bailey just needs a minute,” Peeta states, and I can tell from his tone it’s better not to ask again. Whatever’s going on with his girlfriend has him on edge as well. It seems to me, at least.
The next thirty minutes feel like hours as they pass. No one speaks. Haymitch is almost out cold from his liquor. Peeta refuses to meet my eyes or even so much as tear his gaze from the direction Bailey walked off in. I’m about to tell him to just go after her, when she decides to reappear.
Like magic, she reappears, her face seemingly flawless, her smile as bright and as stunning as before, her poise back again like it never slipped.
“Are you okay?” I ask anyway though, because there’s no use in pretending she didn’t just run off after a harmless comment. Delly obviously wants the answer to the same inquiry or she wouldn’t be currently lingering in the doorframe, afraid to even enter the room.
Still, I receive a pointed glance from Peeta and an outright disgusted look from a barely coherent Haymitch.
I fight my natural instincts that says to justify myself. My natural instincts that tell me they’re being far too defensive over a simple question.
And for what reason? Peeta just met her a few months ago and Haymitch probably wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from half the merchant girls in the district. What is it about Bailey that makes both of them take up their metal armor to protect?
“I’m fine,” she says lightly, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile that doesn’t come across as real for a second. “Delly, do you need any help in the kitchen?”
“No,” the typically bubbly blonde says almost instantly. There’s a waiver in her voice and I feel a pang of sadness spread across my chest, because Delly is obviously afraid of even being in the same room as Bailey now.
“Okay well, we should be going anyways, Peeta,” she says definitively and tugs on his hand with a bit too much force. If you ask me.
“Me too,” I murmur before mentally kicking myself, realizing that I just boxed myself into a corner, looking like I was playing a game and trying to tag along with them for the walk home.
Well, the entire two minutes it takes to get to each of our respective homes, that is.
Even without the added awkwardness of tagging alongside Peeta and his girlfriend, a part of me—a naive, juvenile part—doesn’t want to watch Bailey enter through Peeta’s front door, doesn’t want to accept the fact that she isn’t just spending the night, that his home is now hers too, as a definitive fact.
Within a matter of days, his home is officially her’s. I already know it must be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m anxious by any stretch of the imagination to have the suspicion confirmed.
Haymitch chuckles darkly though, seemingly at my expense, as he lifts his head from the grimy table. “I see someone’s trying to escape before we can light the candles and start singing.”
I blanch the same moment I feel Peeta’s eyes turn and land on me in shock.
I was hoping everyone had forgotten my birthday somehow.
/
Read The Rest On AO3
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glimmerofawesome · 3 years
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This is Sam Kerr: A superstar with elite sport in her blood
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In the white-walled hallway of the Kerr residence in Perth, Roxanne Kerr has a framed photo of the moment her daughter’s image was projected onto the sliding-shell roof tiles of the Sydney Opera House. In the darkness, the profile of an airborne Sam Kerr sails above the waters of Sydney Harbour, backlit by triangles of yellow and green to celebrate Australia’s successful World Cup 2023 bid.
“Your daughter’s on the Opera House — how is that?” says Roxanne, dreamily.
The family treasure it all the more because through it, they glimpse Sam as she was when, aged eight, she walked through some hills and decided that if the other kids were rolling down, the least she could manage was a backward tuck. “And she just taught herself,” says Roxanne. “It amazes me that she can still do it at her age. It shocked me. The first-ever time she did it for the Matildas, she didn’t land properly, but now that’s all people want to see.”
Yet her daughter is just like every other, in that she often neglects to keep her parents in the loop. Roxanne is used to seeing Sam stare back from banners in Australian shopping centres. Normal, too, are the texts from family and friends captioned: “Look who I’ve bumped into.” But the small matter of her springing from the side of the continent’s most iconic building slipped Sam’s mind, as did her international debut in Canberra in 2009.
“She loves us to travel and watch her games, but she doesn’t like a lot of fuss,” says Roxanne. “She didn’t even tell us that she was going to get a cap. She never tells me anything because she’s too embarrassed, too shy. I have a friend who cuts out every single newspaper article. She must have seen the Opera House on Facebook.”
Roxanne called Sam, who said, simply: “It’s nice, isn’t it, Mum?”
You wonder if Kerr Junior would describe winning the Champions League today (Sunday) in the same terms or if she’ll be able to muster any words at all given her manager at Chelsea, Emma Hayes, spent the hours after reaching the final in a haze of joyful tears.
Her itinerant career comprises a shower of titles from three continents, her spell at Chelsea — where she is understood to be earning £500,000 a year — providing more than half the silverware. Previously, she would play in the US over the summer and then, come October, return home to Australia to compete in the W-League. Success against Barcelona today would yield her sixth winners’ medal for Chelsea in 497 days, having made her debut on January 5, 2020. It would also make her the third Australian to play in a Champions League final, close to two years on from becoming the first to score a World Cup hat-trick. Fewer than five Australians have ever represented either senior Chelsea team.
Kerr (right) celebrates the Fran Kirby goal that sealed Chelsea’s 4-1 win over Bayern Munich and fired them into the Champions League final (Photo: Catherine Ivill/Getty Images)
From her car in Perth, where she has run on her lunch break, Roxanne tells The Athletic how she found out her daughter had signed for Chelsea. She and Sam’s grandmother, Coral, had flown to Chicago, where Kerr was racing towards the NWSL Golden Boot, and entered her apartment to see a blue Chelsea shirt. “And nobody was allowed to know because she didn’t want it out before Chelsea announced it,” she says. “I was very excited, because I love London. I thought I would have had four or five trips by now.”
Kerr’s arrival on UK shores garnered unprecedented media attention — photographers were docked at Heathrow to capture her wheeling her way through international arrivals and followed her all the way to the waiting black cab — and this season’s Women’s Super League Golden Boot has left her and Hayes vindicated after a tricky first few weeks; not that there was ever any real doubt she would come good, but only this season has Kerr been able to show us the full contents of her armoury.
“I’m so happy for her,” says Roxanne, “because she didn’t score in those first couple of games and she’s so used to scoring. Every time she spoke to me, it was about the cold — she really struggled with that. We watched every game and she was nearly there, but I could see that she was beating herself up a little bit.” Kerr’s mum doled out the usual pearls of wisdom: “You’re trying too hard and it will come.”
“She wasn’t putting away goals that she normally would do with the eyes closed. I think she was just so nervous. But once she got that first one, you knew that it would start happening because she gets a rhythm and a confidence, and she’s happy.”
On current form, a third Ballon d’Or nomination feels inevitable. Her closest rival is Chelsea team-mate Fran Kirby, though it is a stretch to say the pair are in competition, they have instead glided through the season with their irresistible glee and elan, combining for 52 of the club’s 120 goals.
The moment it clicked for Kerr was when, after months of being assisted by Kirby and a year on from her Chelsea debut, she was finally able to return the favour as her strike partner scored four against Reading in January. “From then on, I was like, ‘OK — this is going to become something now. I’m going to make it my goal to not only get goals off Fran, but to help her score’,” she said. “When we play fast football, no one can keep up with us.
“When you give the ball to Fran, you know you’re going to get it back. Whether I’m making a run to take a defender away or making a run to get the ball, it’s always easy to play with her because she’s so unselfish. I don’t even have to look. I just know that Fran’s going to be there. It looks telepathic.”
Perhaps they were fated to play together. Maybe there is an alternate universe in which Kirby and Kerr never met. It could easily have been this one; 14,528 km separate Kirby’s birthplace in Reading from Kerr’s in East Fremantle, Western Australia. Kerr might never have picked up a football — she began her sporting career, famously, as an Australian Rules player until the opportunities in that sport dried up for girls when she was 12 — were it not for a visit to her cousin’s house shortly after quitting her first love. She initially refused a trial for the state side. Roxanne recalls the coach telling the family Sam was the first person to ever say no to him.
A young Kerr adorns the programme for the 2006 Qantas National Youth Championships for Girls
Then there was the injury in 2015: a Lisfranc fracture, where the metatarsal bones are dislodged and the foot, to put it simply, falls apart. Or, in Roxanne’s words, the bones “spread like there’s no support. It really can be career-ending”.
It nearly was for Kerr, whose Olympics dream was left hanging by a thread. She had a plate fitted in her foot and the Australian Olympic Committee wanted her back for their Olympic qualifiers in Japan. Roxanne drove her to the local park and would “video her running so they can see how she was, and I could just tell that there was no way she was going to get there. She always says, ‘I don’t realise how much I love football until something like this happens’.” Kerr made it to the Olympics though, later saying: “I had many conversations crying on the phone to Mum, telling her I didn’t want to do it any more.”
And there is the fact that Sam might not have ended up in Australia at all had her ancestors not upped sticks decades before she was born.
Roxanne’s father hails from Cork in Ireland — born in 1931, he recently turned 90, making him the oldest of 101 (yes, 101) grandchildren — and her mother’s side are from England.
Kerr’s grandmother on her maternal side was the only child of six to be born in Australia as both families emigrated by ship — “It took forever and I suppose half of them were convicts,” says Roxanne — landing in Freemantle, near Perth, with a £10 stipend.
Many who made the journey to Australia in the early 20th century were British migrants seeking a more prosperous life in another part of the Empire. After the First World War, Australia sought to expand its population in the event of further conflict and its government offered assisted passage, jobs and land grants to potential arrivals.
“Fremantle is where the heart of football is,” Roxanne adds.
On Baal Street, Palmyra, tucked behind spindle-fingered trees, stands the russet silhouette of the Sunlight Bakery. It is a museum now, due to restoration by the local council circa 1988, and you wonder how many of those who walk between the shelves lined with pewter kettles and ersatz bread know it was run by Kerr’s great grandparents in its heyday.
“They used to deliver the bread by horse and cart,” says Roxanne. There is a photograph in the State Library of Western Australia of a horse, Barney, guiding a rickety cart with “Bakers” painted on one side in white. Roxanne’s father became a sheet metal worker, helping build the now-demolished railway lines along the south.
Roxanne’s great grandmother purchased huge plots of land and gave them to her 14 children as wedding presents. Back then, Roxanne’s parents were allowed to keep racehorses in their back garden. Her uncle, JJ Miller, won the 1966 Melbourne Cup — the country’s most famous horse race — on a horse called Galilee. Her cousin, David Neesham, represented Australia in water polo at three Olympics and was inducted into the Water Polo Australia Hall of Fame in 2010. Her other cousin, Danny, is 73 and still riding horses, making him, Roxanne claims, “the oldest jockey in Australia”. There are “probably about 10 Australia Rules footballers” in the family, Roxanne says, including her father, some uncles and her son Daniel — Sam’s brother, 10 years her senior. Her husband, too.
Maybe such a sprawling family — Roxanne is one of 10 children — was always, by the law of averages, bound to spawn some sporting talent. The introduction of Sam’s father, Roger, makes the gene pool more enviable still, and there can be few families, barring the Osmonds and the Jacksons, with as many Wikipedia pages between them.
Born in Calcutta, Roger’s English father was a featherweight boxer for Bengal and his Indian mother played basketball. India had just gained independence from British rule: Coral Kerr, his mother, worked for a British paint company and his father, an Anglo-Indian, on the railways. Amid the violence of India’s final partition, they moved to Australia. The original plan had been to move to Melbourne but doctors warned that Roger’s father would struggle with the cold. They arrived in Perth when Roger was 10.
His and Roxanne’s introduction was something of a meet-cute. “He lived around the corner from me and I was riding past on my bike and we had a little bit of an altercation because of his dog,” she recalls, “My friend said one day, ‘Would you like to come and meet these really nice people that just moved over here?’ and it was him. I’m like, ‘These are the people we had a fight with last week!’”
They flew Coral back to India for an Anglo-Indian reunion and learned that she’d had an ayah, or a nursemaid, as well as “someone to sweep the floor, someone to walk the children to school, someone to take the children at lunch. She got taken to work every day and came home and everything was done, so she never learned how to do anything”. Aged 28, Coral then arrived in Australia with no domestic skills. “She went to the butcher and she bought sausage meat to make mince curry,” says Roxanne.
Roxanne’s uncle Michael was a professional Aussie Rules footballer and Roger moved in opposite.
“He grabbed Roger and took him to football, and something clicked,” says Roxanne proudly. He played more than 100 times in seven years of professional football. The highs and lows of his playing, and later coaching, career informed Roxanne’s handling of Sam as her daughter’s career lurched from fledgling to its apogee.
“Once you get up there, people just want to knock you down, but we don’t take much notice of it,” says Roxanne. “I would say to someone, ‘You think it’s OK for us to criticise my son or my husband and my daughter, but if I said something about your child, you’d be upset. What’s the difference?’. ‘Oh, yours are professionals’.
“I don’t think it gets any easier or harder. You just learn more, that this is the way it is.”
The Kerr family, with Sam pictured left, dad Roger (back row, left), brother Daniel (back row, middle) mum Roxanne (front row, second from right) and grandmother Coral (right)
One needs a human touch to raise two children embedded in elite sport, especially when Roxanne was en route to New Zealand and received a phone call from a coach to say that Sam was out of sorts. She was missing her school ball for her training camp. By then, she had already missed so much, so the federation sent her home the next Friday and Roxanne drove her to town on Saturday to pick out her dress.
“It was hard at the beginning because they travelled so much,” she remembers. Kerr had travelled with the Australian national team since she was 13 and was in her late teens when she moved to New York, the family separated by an ocean, an equator, 18,690km and a 12-hour time difference.
“Parents used to say to me, ‘How do you do it? I cry when my son goes on school camps and your daughter’s going halfway across the world?’ I’m like, ‘Just something you do’. I worry but I’m never going to stop them living their dreams. Sam doesn’t worry much about anything but she reckons I start crying before we’re 20 minutes out from the airport. Every time she dropped me in America, she’d say, ‘Bring the tissues because Mum will be crying the whole way there’. But she doesn’t.”
The Kerrs have a routine for big games: time difference permitting, the family convene at Roxanne’s house and they watch Sam play over dinner, surrounded by their nephews and niece.
A first-leg deficit meant Chelsea had to score twice at Kingsmeadow against Bayern Munich to progress to this Champions League final. The second leg earlier this month was locked at 2-1, the only scoreline that would bring extra time, for 41 minutes. “I was like, ‘They have to score this many goals’,” says Roxanne. “I never thought they would. I was so nervous, and I’ll be like that on Sunday. I won’t be able to sleep.”
The final will be shown at 2.30am in the Kerrs’ part of Australia.
Roxanne has predicted a 3-1 Chelsea win in the Swedish city of Gothenburg, but she lives in dread of a penalty shootout. “I’ll probably get up at one o’clock and walk around for an hour and a half, waiting for the game,” she says. “They’ve done us proud just getting there but now you want them to go all the way. I’ll set my alarm and we’ll all get up and watch it.”
There will be few complaints, you feel, at the early start if Kerr and Chelsea become European champions tonight.
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kari-writes-stuff · 3 years
Text
ocean waves
words 1941
genre: slice of life, lgbt+
Ever since he could remember, Evan had wanted to be a Marine biologist.
He remembers when he first moved near the beach, the feeling of heat on his skin and wind in his light brown hair, the sun, the waves, and there was so much to explore! but most of all he remembers the little crab he had met. the second he'd seen the snapping critter he'd run up to it looking in wonder as it crawled past him and into the sea "mama look!" he'd cried. He remembered the way she smiled at him as he pointed.
"Do crabs come in different colors?"
"What do crabs eat?"
"How big can a crab get?"
He had asked questions all the way home and the more they researched about crabs not only did his interest grow but he found himself fascinated with other sea animals as well.
Clown fish, whales and octopi to name a few, he begged his mom to take him to the beach everyday and she took him every chance she got. She would always smile about it, any time he showed her his new discoveries, she would be just as interested as him, any time he had questions, she was right there to help him find an answer, she had always supported him.
He remembers starting school.
He remembers entering the classroom, being met with so many kids, they all were tanned, and a few sunburnt -most likely from playing outside all summer- he remembers being introduced, his teacher telling him to sit wherever he liked, multiple kids tried to call him over their eyes glowing in excitement. His eyes, however, strayed to the back of the class, where a kid was coloring all by himself, he was a lot paler than the others for some reason...the kid looked at him and for a second light and dark brown eyes met before he looked back down.
While all the other kids looked super fun he found himself walking towards the back.
"Hi." He whispered when he sat down looking
"uh...hi" the boy shyly replied back, his long dark brown hair hiding his face as he looked down, Evan subconsciously touched his own shorter hair, he kinda wished his own hair was that long...
"I'm Evan, what's your name?" he asked excitedly.
the kid shifted. "...Im Kade"
It was then that Evan saw Kade's drawing.
"Is that a crab?"
the boy flinched guiltily as if caught doing something bad, he shifted his paper
"uh...yeah it's a crab eating an apple." Kade said hesitantly.
"I love crabs! and apples are yummy, especially chocolate covered apples, those are my favorite" Evan exclaimed happily trying to keep his voice down.
Kade turned to look at him. "yeah, I like the ocean and apples are my favorite." his eyes shifted downwards, "my parents say its just a dumb phase though."
Evan was shocked at this, he fidgeted a little in his seat. "Well it's not just a phase for me, the ocean is cool, it's got all sorts of awesome animals like whales and dolphins, and I'm gonna be a marine biologist so I can study them all when I grow up!" his hands waved a little in the air as he said this.
Kade finally shifted to look at him "what's a marine biolatist?"
"biologist" Evan corrected " that's someone who studies plants and animals that live near the sea"
Kade's eyes lit up, and forgetting his earlier shyness he exclaimed. "That's so cool! I wanna be one too!"
but then he slouched back down, his face contorting into one of sadness again. "But I have to be a doctor, my parents said so...." he looked back at his drawing.
Evan crossed his arms. "Well my mom says you can be whatever you want when you grow up so if you want to be a marine biologist then when you grow up then we can study sea animals together!"
"...really?" Kade looked confused at the prospect of 'being whatever you wanted.'
"yeah!" Evan smiled.
and like that they were best friends, their parents liked each other too so that helped.
they would have sleepovers and playdates -almost always at Evans house- but that didn't matter Evans mom loved it when Kade came over.
Whenever Kade came they would all go to the beach or the Aquarium and play or look at the animals, and even if it was raining his mom would just set up a documentary instead, and though he was shy around Evans mom at first but he soon came out of his shell.
///
he remembers turning 15 and finally being old enough to volunteer at the aquarium, Kade wasn't allowed too, instead his parents had sent him to a private school, determined to get him a scholarship for med school, but that didn't matter, it was only three more years then he and Kade could do whatever they wanted together. and besides Evan wasn't allowed to do much at first, maybe help behind the scenes with some shows and take Supplies from one place to another, and maybe help feed the animals from time to time with supervision, but he still got to learn so much from the other workers and had fun!
When Evan got back he immediately called Kade and told him everything that happened.
"...wow that sounds...fun." Kade said, sounding a bit sad.
Evan frowned. "I'm sorry you have to be at dumb private school, i miss you."
"I miss you too."
"...but remember what I told you? once you move out you can do whatever you want, it's only three more years and then you can be a marine biologist with me right?"
"yeah...I just...." Kade sounded unsure. "Do you think they'll hate me? I mean they're spending all this money so I can be here and-"
"Kade" Evan said interrupting, they had had this conversation a lot over the years, and a while ago his answer would have been 'who cares what they think' but as his mother has explained Kade cared what they thought, they were his parents after all.
"It's your life and your choice, just because your parents want you to be something doesn't mean your required to do it, and even if you decide to become a doctor to please them, if you're not happy then technically they're still wasting their money, you still want to study sea life right?"
Kade made a small sound if agreement "then that's what your gonna do"
Kade went silent on the other line for a second before saying "yeah...yeah I guess you're right" Kade took a deep breath before letting it out again slowly.
"and until then I'll just have to volunteer for both of us!"
Kade chuckled. "thanks Evan."
Evan grinned "anytime dude" Evan looked at the clock "hey it's getting kinda late over here, but talk to you tomorrow?"
"...yeah, night."
"night."
three years passed quicker then he thought, but at the same time also agonizingly slow.
every day he'd call Kade to talk and tell him about his day, and tell him what he'd learn, and ask if Kade was doing alright and just...everything.
but still, he missed talking to best friend face to face…
finally Evan graduated high school! he was 18 and in another Month Kade would be too he was so excited!
The entire month was spent either looking at different colleges or talking to his mother about what he and Kade would do with each other.
Now, he was waiting in the middle of his room, looking at college applications, and trying to figure out which one to go to...the door opened and Evan turned his head expecting his mother to be there to ask what he wanted for dinner.
"KADE!?" and it was Kade. did he look paler then last time he'd seen him? Has his hair gotten longer?
After a moment of shock Evan quickly got up and hugged him. "But I thought you weren't coming till next week?" he said, confused.
"Yeah, my parents were gonna pay for my train ticket...but a friend said she'd do it for me, so here I am" he said, his voice happy but also holding nervous hints to it.
Evan frowned "do you know what you're gonna say to them?" Kade shook his head.
"I don't, I mean...I've thought about it but" Kade took a deep breath.
Evan hugged him again "I'll be right here with you Kade ok?"
Kade nodded "yeah."
-
"Well this is it!" Evan said, bursting with excitement as he walked into their new apartment and set his suitcase down.
"Can you believe it? we're finally going to college!"
Kade smiled slightly "yeah." he replied.
Evan's smile wavered and he walked over. "You doing ok?" he asked gently. to say Kades parents hadn't taken the news well was an understatement, that night they had decided to wait till the end of summer to tell them Kades decision and instead gone over too Kade's house to surprise them, the rest of summer went well but of course they had argued when Kade told them he wasn't going to be a doctor, he had looked almost ready to back down but Evan had just grabbed Kade's hand, told them exactly what he'd told Kade multiple times, that it was Kade's life and that the both of them had already been accepted at miami university and walked out of there.
Now a week later they were in their new apartment in Miami, Kades parents had stopped blowing up his phone and had instead grown eerily silent.
"I'm ok," Kade said, tugging at the end of his shirt a little.
"forget about them for tonight" Evan said, guessing what, or rather who he was thinking about. "Let's put our stuff away for right now, yeah?"
Kade nodded.
"Great, now let's get to work!"
and that's how college life started for them, it was fun -well as fun as school could be anyways.
They studied -or helped Kade study as Evan had already learned most of this either by himself or by his volunteer work at the aquarium, got jobs, made a few friends, met some of Kades friends.
years passed and now they were both graduating college.
"Evan Loring."
Evan walked to the platform, eyes shining as his mother cheered from where she was sitting, he looked back to where Kade was sitting waiting to be called up as well, several names were called until,
"Kade quince"
His mother cheered again, sounding just as excited as they both felt, and Kade's eyes also shined as he got his diploma and stood next to Evan.
Evan and Kade got jobs at a sea life research facility, a few years of saving up later they started their own rescue and rehabilitate Aquarium with plenty of shows about raising awareness of pollution...
///
"Will you marry me?" he asked Kade, one summer, they were at the beach, the one they grew up at, they had been dating for three years now, Kade looked at Even in surprise before smiling widely "yes."
The wedding was beautiful, and at the beach of course where else? and Kade, Kade looked amazing. there was no one else he'd rather have. His mother looked so happy.
...they had invited Kade's side of the family but...Evan pushed that thought to the back of his mind, no matter.
They had been through a lot together, but as they said their vows Evan knew there was no one else he'd rather have had by his side, both then and now.you
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fishfarmfrankie · 3 years
Text
Bakusquad as types of Relationships
The type of romantic relationship the bakusquad would have with their s/o(You)
+ Your relationships theme song bc why not
Trigger Warnings; none :)
feat. Sero, Bakugou, Denki, Kirishima and Mina 💞💕💘💝💖
Sero Hanta
Summer Fling
-Sero give me big summer energy. 
-I imagine him being that relationship that randomly sparks after you two spot each other at a beachside bar. You instantly hit it off and fall hard. 
-It’s an even combination of Lust and Love, as well as solid companionship.
-The two of you just seem to click so fast, as if you were soulmates. And since it’s the summer holidays, you two have all the free time you could ever want. 
-You spend every available minute with Sero as you two enjoy each others company, sharing ice cream, going surfing, gate crashing random parties together, getting high and just sharing the vibes. You can’t get enough of each other. 
-Kiri, Denki and Bakugou would be so confused yet surprised at how Sero was able to even approach you. And then how he managed to convince you to go out with him, only ten minutes after meeting you? HE’S SMOOTH ASF (And was probably a bit drunk 😳)
-But as Summer ends, you learn that Sero is only spending the summer holidays in your region. You follow Sero to the plane and he offers to have you go with him, but you can’t. So, as the sunsets, you watch as your summer fling Sero flies away on the last day of Summer vacation.
-Though Sero never officially broke it off with you, you think this is because it was obvious enough, but this is actually because Sero was hoping to see you again next year 🥺🏖
-Then when you try to tell all your friends about your hot summer fling no one believes you 😔
Relationship Theme song: Borderline by Tame Impala, Pineapple Skies by Miguel
~~
Denki Kaminari
Partners in Crime
-Okay so you two were chaotic enough without being a couple but THEN THE TWO CRAZIEST CRACKHEADS HAD TO GET TOGETHER AND CAUSE PURE ANARCHY AMONG EVERY STREET YOU ROAM HUH?
-Students  s h u d d e r  when they see you two roaming the halls at school. Like you’re the couple that has a reputation for causing chaos wherever you go. Whether it be stupid dares or crazy pranks you try to pull on class 1-A. UA can never get a break with you two around.
-You two are connected on a different level I swear. Like you two would be hanging out with the gang and Denki just makes a snort sound and next minute you’re both having a full conversation in rat language🙄
- Ngl there’s a lot of lust in this one 👀, the second your parents’ shoes leave the front door Denki is right there in your bed O-O
-lemme just say ‘horny weebs’. That is all good day.
-The worst thing about this is you two always seem to be together. Like Denki loves keeping you around to show you off. If you’re not physically with him, he’s showing people his phone’s lock screen and background (Which is a photo of you)
-omfg y’all tried to start up your own little podcast one time but you found that you guys were literally just laughing for 40 minutes straight.
Relationship Theme Song: Greek Tragedy by the wombats (Oliver nelson remix), Touch You (The Yarichin Bitch club theme song lmao)~
~~
Bakugou Katsuki
Secret Forbidden love/Star crossed lovers
-Okok I know a lot of y’all think that Bakugou would like to show you off and I think this is true to a certain extent, like I feel like a long period of time he would want to keep the relationship a secret in fear of being ridiculed. 
-This relationship would be filled with love, you being the only one Bakugou will obey ;)
-You two would always play little games where you try to steal kisses from each other while no one is looking. Of course no one notices.
-!Secret dates! Constantly trying to search for the most secluded cafes around. There would be tons of little moments where Bakugou spots someone like Sero and is forced to hide lol
-You’re the only one who sees Bakubabe’s soft side 🥺
-Though because no one knows you’re in a relationship you do get quite a lot of people flirting with you and this fucks Bakugou off to the max.
-One day some person straight up tries to kiss you and Bakugou rips them away from you and fuckin socks him, drop kicks em’ like a rugby ball. The person is splayed on the floor, blood nose, and shocked as all fuck, stuttering; “What the hell? what’s your problem man!”
-Bakugou is like; “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM! THEY’RE MINE AND ONLY MINE AND I’M SICK OF FUCKSTICK EXTRAS LIKE YOU THINKING YOU EVEN HAVE A CHANCE WITH MY S/O!”
-No one saw that coming 🤭
Relationship Theme Song: Sofia by Clairo, Asshole by hooligan chase, LOOK AT ME! by xxxtentacion (im sorry yall 😭)
~~
Kirishima Ejirou
Power couple
-Kirishima would honestly be the best boyfriend ever. 
-Everyone shipped you two together, but was surprised when he actually asked you out, AND you said yes. 
-You two are the power duo that can do anything together. Dude when y’all are teamed up in practice fights for training no one can beat you two. Not even Bakugou. UNSTOPPABLE POWER.
-fucking dates at they gym🙄 nah but kiri’s dates are always full of adventures, like rock climbing (( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• ))
-There is a lot of respect here, and a lot of support. Kirishima feels comfortable sharing all his insecurities about his quirk and ‘manliness’ with you, of course, he’s there for you whenever you need. Very dependable. THIS IS WHY YALL ARE SO STRONG 💪👹
-We love a functionally healthy toxicity free relationship💫🤠
-You two do tend to rival each other a lot too. Since you’re both complete equals on all levels, it’s always uncertain on who will win when you two wrestle, or even when you do take the exams. It also gives you both motivation to work harder.
-With this combined power You and Kirishima possess, you sort of become the parents of class 1-A. Helping keep students motivated n stuff. Even Tenya Iida has trouble contesting your guys’ authority over the class. 
Relationship Theme Song:  Trip by Ella Mai including Duan Yi, Sunflower by Rex Orange County
~~
Ashido Mina
Opposites attract
-Ok I’m sorry if this isn’t you but if you like Mina then you’re likely to be her opposite. I’m talking quiet kid, more on the masculine side/Tomboy-ish, you’re probably like a fucking emo (Don’t worry tho I like Mina too 😌)
-Fr though you two are fashion icons, the most aesthetic couple either.
-Mina likes to drag you to all her little social events, and although they can be tiring, being with her helped you come out of your shell a lot.
-tbh because Mina is so friendly and lowkey touchy with everyone no one even thought y’all were a couple. Like you guys didn’t really act that different to before your were a couple because she would always flirt with you before hand too.
-Best thing is you guys don’t even tell people you’re a couple now. So they get such a shock when you two start joking about kissing and then actually kiss. You two did this to Denki one time and he just short circuited. Though you have a suspicion it was more because he was turned on than from being shocked.
-Also y’all lowkey freaky as hell. Freaky as fuck. Mina brings out a different side to you ;)
Relationship Theme Song: Pretty girl by Clairo, Say So by Doja Cat 
~~~
Ayo take a shot every time I used the word ‘ Y’all ‘
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I wanna write a long multi chapter fic about Jack and Shitty becoming friends but also I don’t have the mental bandwidth right now so instead I’m just gonna blurt out a long bulletpoint fic so bare with me
Okay so Shitty B. Knight arrives to Samwell hungry for life and friends and finally some fucking air to breathe and be himself away from his conservative family
And it is fucking great, okay? From the get go he finds that his loud left wing talk is welcomed here, he gets to joke around and be as weird as he wants and no one cares
He hits it off pretty quickly with nearly everyone in the team. Sure, Johnson is a little weird and keeps talking about this merely being the “prologue of someone else’s story” but what he’s really curious about is the quiet Canadian guy that barely talks to anyone
Now, Shitty knows about Jack Zimmermann. Obviously. You have to grow up under a rock to not know about Bad Bob and his kid.
He also knows what happened. It must be a sore subject.
Is that why he’s so quiet?
It’s not that Shitty makes Jack a project. Not really. It’s that Shitty has been in a place where he felt lonely and out of place before and it sucked ass. He wants to help.
So he tries. Constantly.
Because Shitty sees the spark hiding behind the ice cold facade. He sees the way Jack’s face lights up in the rink, how loud and youthfully he celebrates cellys, how protective of others he is in the ice.
That’s a guy he WANTS to be friends with.
Except he can’t. After every training, Jack shuts back up
“Hey, Jaques, wanna go grab a bite?” “Thanks but I should sleep. We got an early day tomorrow.”
“My man, Zimmermann, lets go to that fucking party across campus!” “I’d rather not.”
“Hey, let’s celebrate this fucking win!” “I was actually gonna watch the game tonight. There was a play there that keeps bothering me.”
Anything that isn’t hockey is an instant No from Jack but Shitty is too stubborn to give up.
“Hey, Jack, I was going to train a bit extra on Sunday. Care to join me? You could teach me some of those sick moves.” “Sure.”
VICTORY. Sort of. Working out extra with Jack is exhausting, physically and mentally because Shitty keeps trying to come up with jokes and keeping up 90% of the conversation.
It takes nearly a month until Jack agrees to grab a bite after their Sunday skate and Shitty is so fucking beat that he nearly falls asleep on his burger.
“Hey, Shits, nice ketchup mustache,” Jack chirps him suddenly. And it’s the smallest, dumbest possible thing but Shitty laughs a little too loud and Jacks shoulders seem to lose a bit of that perpetual tension he’s always carrying.
It gets better after that. Slowly, painstakingly, but Shitty finds himself enjoying Jack’s company more and more.
He’s a genuinely good bro. He listens, even when he’s just grunting along time Shitty’s monologues, and he asks questions that shows that he actually cares, every now and then. It’s odd, being taken seriously.
By the end of their first semester, Jack and Shitty are spending a lot of time together. Which is why he asks him to come to the art kids party where Larissa is going to be.
Who? “Brah, Larissa Duan? Just the coolest fucking chick ever! I told you about her the other day, man. She said we should come over to this thing and I would go, but I know shit about art and I would rather not go along and bring my best fucking bro with me.”
After the word vomit he worries that maybe he pushed too far, judging by the way Jack freezes and stares at him like a deer on headlights. But then Jack sighs and says “fine, I’ll go,” and Shitty whoops with excitement
The party goes better than Shitty could’ve ever dreamed. Larissa’s super chill energy seems to have an effect on Jack, who half an hour in is talking about photography with some other art kids and he even agrees to come grab a beer with him and Larissa afterwards.
Until, of-fucking-course, Jack goes into hockey-mode and asks Larissa if she would like to be their team manager. They need one and she seems good at organizing stuff.
“Brah!” “I think it would be cool” “wait, what” “I’ve been looking to do more stuff and you guys are dope. Would I get my own nickname?”
And Jack looks her with that seriousness that means he’s thinking about hockey and firmly says “Lardo” and she says “sweet” and Shitty corrects “swasome” and things are good.
Thing don’t stay good, because as chill as Shitty tries to be, life rarely stays chill.
After winter break, in the smothering tightness of his folks’ home, Shitty finds himself craving that weird and easy friendship with Jack.
Why he finds is a Hockey Robot. All Jack seems to do and talk about is how to get the team to the play-offs. He trains longer than anyone (more than Shitty can keep up with), and when he isn’t on the ice, he is thinking about hockey or talking about plays or or about eating more protein.
Shitty is angry. Not that he would tell anyone (except Lardo) because it’s really not his place (he knows about shorty family dynamics, no pun intended) but he’s mad because Jack’s folks seem to have done quite a fucking number on him over the break and it kills him to even think about it.
And then family weekend comes and Bad Bob himself shows up to Samwell with his beautiful wife and Shitty has to swallow down his anger because Jack wants them to go have diner together and it’s the first human interaction he’s had with Jack in a month so sure he’ll go.
Shitty is good at being nice and polite around people he dislikes. He hates doing it, but it’s like muscle he had to work on growing up.
Except, Bob and Alicia are nice. Like, fucking nice. Even for Canadian standards. They are sweet and funny and normal and keep reassuring Jack about their love and support every third sentence.
And still, Jack has that grim “thinking about the next game” look on his face the whole time.
Shitty is confused as fuck.
The game goes well and Jack is the happiest Shitty has ever seen him as he celebrates his goal in the ice. He even hugs Shitty and thanks him for his assist.
Three games later they are out of the playoffs and Jack shuts down everything and everyone around him.
Shitty tries. He knocks on his door at least twice a day to see if he wants to go over to the Haus to hang out with the team. He offers going out for burgers or a beer or both. He even enlists Lardo, hoping the team manager will be able to snap him out of it.
Jack leaves early for a Hockey Summer camp and doesn’t say goodbye but Shitty hears from Johnson that he also got dibs on a room at the Haus.
Jack actually texts Shitty during the summer. It shocks him so much that he has to double check his phone before replying.
The texts are just to comment on the NHL playoffs and finals, sporadic and robotic at times, but Shitty does his best to drag the conversations for as long as possible. Once the season is over, so are the texts.
Shitty assumes Jack must be pretty happy though since his old bro won the cup.
When fall comes, Shitty stumbles again into Jack’s hockey-robot mode. His intensity is nearly terrifying. He barely speaks out of practice, only leaves his room to go to lecture or the rink. Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping at all.
Shitty is worried. He’s hurt, too, because he misses the friendly Jack that had slowly started coming out of his shell, and he wonders if it’s going to be like this, back to square-one after every break, but most of all he’s worried about Jack.
Lardo tells him to give him space. She says she sometimes gets “on the zone” for an art project and can forget about the rest of the world. Shitty likes thinking of Jack as an artist, but he hates seeing him this unhappy. None of the old tricks work to cheer him up.
Then comes the first Kegster of the year. Two frogs, Hostler and Ransom, take over planing duties and the party is the biggest the Haus has ever seen.
It’s freaking dope.
And then, fucking Kent Parson fucking shows up asking about Jack.
Lardo and Shitty nearly have to drag him out of his room to greet his old best friend.
Jack is cold towards Pars, in a way Shitty has never seen before. He’s downright rude and mean in every comment, no matter how much Kent tries to joke around, and five minutes later Jack turns around and leaves him talking to himself.
He’s jealous, Shitty realizes, and he’s being petty and awful and he doesn’t know this Jack Zimmermann at all.
Shitty runs after Jack upstairs, maybe a little emboldened by the alcohol.
“Hey, brah, what the fuck was that?”
“Stay out of it, Shits.”
“Nah, man, that was weird as fuck.”
“Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about”
“Then tell me, man, I’m your fucking friend! Just talk to me!”
Jack slams his bedroom door on his face and Shitty deflates. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they are not friends after all.
The rest of the semester is tense. Shitty tries to focus on his classes, on the ice, on how fucking cool and pretty and funny Lardo is, on the parties and the rest of the team.
It just bothers him. He misses Jack. He’s still there but he’s been absent any time they aren’t in the rink. He’s still great and focused and nearly friendly in the ice, but anything else is like the fucking twilight zone.
It’s before a game that he finds Jack sitting outside Faber, curled into a ball and physically shaking.
Shitty thinks of the headlines about Jack OD’ing, thinks of his tension around his loving parents and his reaction to Kent Parson showing up. Anxiety. The word takes form in his head, clear and obvious and the relief of having an answer hits him so hard he wants to laugh.
Instead, he sits next to Jack, who stirs when he feels him by his side but actually seems to relax when he realizes it’s Shitty who found him like this. Jack lets out a breathy “I’m fine” and Shitty says “sure, brah, but I’m fucking nervous about tonight, mind if I sit here for a while?” And Jack shakes his head. So they sit, in uncharacteristic silence, until Jack’s breathing normalizes.
“Thanks, Shits. Could you not-“ “Don’t worry man, I ain’t saying fucking shit to anyone.” And Jack smiles for the first time in months.
By the end of the semester comes the Epikegster to end all the kegsters. Which means, of course, Shitty gets shitfaced.
Which is why he ends up stumbling drunkenly to his room in the middle of the night to grab another pair of sunglasses because who knows where the fuck his other two pairs went
And it’s why he doesn’t know how to react when he finds two linebackers throwing up on his bedroom floor
“Brah, what the fuck, get outta here!” He yells, trying to grab one of the guys and pull him out to the hallway.
Except, the guy is huge. And he is angry.
Shitty doesn’t know what hit him when someone throws him to the floor.
His brain thinks he’s been checked for a second but then he remembers he’s not in the ice.
The other guys, however, apparently don’t remember they aren’t on the field because the second dude tries to tackle Shitty just as he’s getting up and he barely has time to dodge before one gigant ducking foot goes through the bedroom wall
“Hey, man, what the fucking fuck?!”
Shitty tries to steady himself, increasingly accepting that he’s about to get into a fight he didn’t ask for. He has time to think it’s ironic that his first real fight in Samwell will be off-the-ice.
And then the bedroom door opens and in comes Jack Laurent Zimmermann in all of his gorgeous badass glory.
“Let’s all calm down, eh?”
Here’s the thing: it’s easy to forget how strong Jack is. Shitty is used to hanging out with Hockey Bros and it’s easy to forget that not everyone’s bro’s are big muscley athletes defying toxic masculinity standards one day at a time. But Jack, even when he doesn’t look that big, is one of the strongest people he’s met.
He remembers all this when Zimmermann grabs the two by their shirts and drags them out of the room and all the way downstairs.
Shitty stumbles after them, as Jack pulls them like they aren’t both huge masses of muscle and throws them out to the street.
By the time Shitty reaches the porch, a bunch of big as fuck guys are standing there, looking drunk and angry and ready for a fight.
So Shitty does the one thing that makes sense to him: he squares up next to Jack, ready to fight back to back with him.
Before they can get run over by fists, however, Jack reaches for the only emergency measure in the house: an old as balls fire extinguisher.
Two minutes later, the football bro’s are running away and Shitty is laughing so hard he collapses on the floor next to Jack.
Jack kneels next to him, with his serious hockey face on, puts a hand on Shitty’s shoulder and asks “you alright, Shits?”
Shitty nods, still laughing, and to his surprise Jack laughs too, sitting by his side on the floor. They sit there, chuckling, until the sound dies down and they both sigh at nearly the same time.
Whatever tension there was between them seems to have desipated with that clouth of dust of the fire extinguisher.
“Thanks for having my back, bro”
“Hey, you always have mine,” Jack shrugs. “What are best friends for?”
Shitty cries. Jack freaks out that he might have said the wrong thing. Shitty just hugs him and shouts about being the best bros.
That winter break Jack invites Shitty over to his house and Shitty accepts eagerly.
Bob and Alicia are sweet and happy to have him and keep saying how much Jack talks about Shitty and how thankful they are that Jack’s found so many good friends in Samwell and they’ve heard about Lardo and Hostler and Ransom and Johnson and Shitty most of all.
This time he manages not to cry.
At the end of the break, Jack and him are hanging out and Jack says “Hey, Shits, I’m not good at this but I wanted to say thanks, for not giving up on me when I was acting kinda weird.”
And Shitty just laughs and says “it’s alright man, I figured you have like hockey robot mode and then human mode.”
Jack makes a face. Shitty shrugs.
“I’ll take them both, brah.”
Jack doesn’t cry, because he’s Jack and even his human mode struggles with emotions, but he smiles and throws a snowball at Shitty’s face and that’s all he wanted really.
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skylarmoon71 · 4 years
Text
TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader-(Short Story) Chapter 2
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"You should have just let me take him, he was right there! "
"Come on Raph, we're just supposed to help not make it worse. Besides, we stopped the train. They won't be bringing in any more weapons." Raph grumbled, sheathing both his blades. Apparently they were discussing what took place in their most recent case. Raph lived to defy Leo, it wasn't anything new.
"Whatever, next time I'm going out on my own." he shoved Leo as he brushed passed. Leo grabbed his shoulder, halting him. 
"You're not going out on your own, we do this together Raph!" You really hated it whenever they fought. Despite that, you never said anything when it got like this. Even Mikey and Donnie knew better. Raph pushed Leo back roughly, and the blue bandana turtle hit a shelf close by. Lucky for him he had his shell to take the brunt of the hit. Unlucky for you, you didn't. You were on the other side of the cupboard, and when it started to fall you panicked.
Raph saw it falling, yelling out for you. You braced your hands, closing your eyes. You heard a few items clattering to the floor at the sides of you, but when you realized you were unharmed you looked up. Donnie had his arms spread, holding up the cupboard. He lifted it in the other direction, bracing it back against its previous spot. "Are you alright?" Leo was at your side in an instant, and you sighed relieved. You smiled at Donnie who was already checking your body for injuries.
"T-Thank you Donnie you might have just saved my life." He gave a sheepish smile rubbing his neck.
"I-It was nothing. "
Now that the danger was over, Leo glared at his brother. He stomped in his direction enraged. "What the hell are you doing! You could have really hurt (Y/N)!" You stepped over placing a hand on Leo's arm to calm him down.
"I-It's fine Leo. I-It was an accident. H-He didn't mean to." Raph would never intentionally harm you.
"Yeah Leo, listen to your girlfriend. " That made you a little annoyed. Because he was already angry, you just let it slide. Leo was still sizing Raph up, and you knew you wouldn't be able to handle it if they got into another fist fight because of you. Leo glanced down at the unease in your eyes. Reluctantly, his shoulders slumped. He stepped down, and Raph just wore an arrogant smirk.
"Just like you to fold. Sometimes I wonder why you're the leader." Leo didn't reply, taking your hand and guiding you out the room. You wanted to stay there and try to get both brothers to work out the problem, but you didn't have it in you to pull away from Leo's hold, especially since he looked so worried when he thought you would get buried under the cupboard. So as he pulled you along, you sent a longing look in Raph's direction. He looked up at the last second, right before you went around the corner. That split second, you could have sworn you saw a hint of hurt in his eyes.
~~~
"Are they still fighting?" you were chatting with Donnie on your cell phone. It was pretty late, and you knew you wouldn't be able to sneak out, so you were in your room, laying down on your bed.
"Yeah, don't worry too much. Master Splinter will make sure they don't go at each other's throats." you smiled.
"That's good to hear. Well I'll check in tomorrow. Spring break is about to begin so I'll get to spend more time with you guys."
"That's-"
"Hey is that (Y/N)? Dude what's up!!" you laugh hearing Mikey in the background.
"Hey Mikey, I was just telling Donnie about the upcoming break. We may finally get to settle that score in Call of Duty."
"I'm so gonna kick your butt!" You couldn't wait.
"I'll be looking forward to it." you spoke. After giving your goodbyes, you hung up the phone, flopping back on the mattress. Somehow you'd become a little better at interacting. Before meeting the turtles you pretty much avoid interacting with people.
For good reason to. But with them, it was never a challenge. Leo was like an older brother. Mikey the goofy childish younger brother. Donnie was like a middle child. Smart, techy and a little bit of a dork. Raph was obviously the rebel. Even with all their differences, it was weird that you found comfort trusting them rather than your own species.
Maybe it was because the turtles lived by a code. They were natural born protectors, saviors. At heart, their main purpose in life was helping. And they did. They helped you, not just physically. But also mentally, emotionally. If you could offer them the world, you would do it without a second thought.
You flinched when you heard a small knock on the glass on your window. You looked over at the curtains. Maybe it was a bat? You stepped out of bed, moving to check the glass. When you shifted the curtain, you were shocked at who was hanging unto your window sill.
"R-Raph!" you slapped your hand against your mouth, because that came out much louder than intended. Opening the window, you ushered him inside quickly. As soon as you did it you ran over, turning the latch on your door.
He was lucky your room was located in the back of the house, covered by trees in your yard. It would be pretty awkward if you had to explain him to your neighbors.
Now that you were no longer in autopilot, you stood by the door. Raph was still by your window. He rolled his shoulders after climbing through the small space. And now he was just standing there, clearly unsure of what to do, or say.
"This is awkward.." you had absolutely no idea why he came, and the fact that neither of you had ever had an actual conversation alone didn't help your nerves.
"This is stupid." He groused. You kept playing with your fingers. "W-Why are you....is something wrong back home with Leo?" at the mention of his brother's name his face turned sour. "It's always about him isn't it. Leo. I came all the way here to apologize to you and that's all you have to say!"
Unconsciously you took a step back. You never did like it when he yelled. Especially since this was the first time it was directed at you. Not just that, but yelling right now wasn't the best thing since your parents were only a couple doors down. He must have realized, because he turned his head. "Forget about it. I don't even know why I came." You could feel him fuming from all the way over there. And as much as you wanted to say something, you'd already irritated him, you didn't want to say anything to make it worse. Although at this point just about anything would.
"I'm sorry." you whispered. Raph stopped in his spot, looking over his shoulder.
"I-I know I barely ever talk to you. And I always make things awkward when it's us two. I don't mean too. A-And I didn't mean to get you in trouble with Leo the other day. I-It's my fault that you guys are fighting right now." In a way it was.
Raph sighed defeatedly. He came to apologize, and instead he scared you into doing what he should have done the moment he stepped in, instead of picking a fight.
"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one that always messes everything up."
"That's not true." When you said that he turned to you fully. You burrowed your hands behind your back, finally feeling a little confident now that he wasn't as pissed.
"You do have a bad temper, and you suck at taking orders, but you don't mess things up." Where those words came from, you had no clue. But you were liking your sudden boldness.
"Your brothers depend on you. You guys have each other, no matter how much you think you mess up, they'll always be there for you. You just need to be better at working through your issues rather than just walking away from them."
Raph was just standing there listening, he seemed to be actually taking in you words. When he sent you a small grin your cheeks darkened.
"Here I thought you were just a little shrimp. You're a lot braver than you look. " you giggled softly. "I mean, compared to you guys I really am." you joked. Raph was smiling at you, actually smiling. He looked so damn sexy when he smiled. "No! Stop it stupid brain! I'm actually having a conversation with him, don't' ruin it!" Right now really wasn't the best time to fall for his charms.
"Thanks (Y/N)." He was thanking you. Could your night get any better.
"(Y/N) sweety are you alright?" you stiffened, and Raph looked side to side panicking.
"Aw shit!" he mouthed. You shook your hands advising him not to make a sound or move.
" I thought I heard yelling."
"I-I'm fine Mom. It was j-just a nightmare. I didn't want to wake you or dad. I-I'm sorry."
"Nightmares, do you want to talk about it." you could tell she was offering to stay awake longer to help you.
"I'm really fine mom, I promise. It was nothing. I'm going to go back to sleep. "
"Are you sure? I can make you a cup of tea or something. "
"There's no need. I promise I'm fine. Just go back to sleep." She lingered at the door for a while, before she relented. "Alright, but if you change your mind let me know."
"I will. I love you mom."
"Oh sweetheart I love you too. Try and get some rest okay. "
"Yeah I will." You waited in your spot until you heard her footsteps retreating. When you heard her bedroom door close, you sighed, placing a hand to your chest.
"That was close." you whispered. Raph was smirking at you, and it did weird things to your chest.
"W-What?"
"Nothing." It didn't look like nothing.
 "Come on tell me why you're wearing that smug little woah!" you had planned to march over, but you slipped on something on your floor. Raph was quicker, he caught you almost instantly. You must have stopped breathing for at least a few seconds, because you just stayed there in his arms. Your eyes connected, and that's when you let out a shallow breath. Raph was just as taken as you. He didn't move a muscle, just held you upright. You palm flattened against his chest, eyes never straying from his hypnotic gaze. With him slightly bent, all you had to do was lean up a few inches and you could close that space.
"Raph.." the sound of his name broke the spell. He straightened your body, pulling away. He cleared his throat, taking a couple steps back. "I should get going I need to-" he knocked into your desk behind on his way to leave and you winced at the sound that echoed. Raph froze, listening to make sure he didn't give your mother another reason to come back. When there wasn't any sound he relaxed, moving to your window.
"Be careful." you said gesturing to his head as he almost ran right into the glass. He just gave a force laugh, raising the window glass. You smiled. He was sort of cute like this. All fidgety. He ducked, creeping out the way he came in. "I'll come by tomorrow." you stated.
"Yeah..." he responded, but it didn't sound like he was really listening. He looked distracted.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
He nodded, inching up the wall.
"Yeah tomorrow." And just like that, he was flipping to the top of your roof. You bent your head, watching as he took off into the night.
You were looking forward to tomorrow, that was for sure.
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generallybarzy · 4 years
Text
smile like sunshine
Introduction: ~7,600 words
mat barzal series
summary: A lot changes in ten years, and a lot changes when someone grows used to having constant attention, fans, and fame- so surely the boy you knew back then was long gone. Even if you had been the closest of friends that one month back in 2008, there was no way he remembers you, or even wants to talk to you anymore...
an: Here it finally is!!! I know, I know, it's super long. I was gonna split it up, but it made more sense to keep the intro in one part for the backstory and setting up the main plot and then have the rest of the story on the beach. I really hope this comes together like I want it to!
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From the moment you first saw him, you knew you were going to be best friends; but what you could never know, at only nine years old, was that you were going to fall head over heels in love with him one day.
Looking back now, he was adorable as a child, but that wasn’t what your little nine-year-old mind was thinking at the time. All you were focused on back then was the sheer awesomeness of that sandcastle he was building and the overwhelming amount of loneliness that was overtaking you on what was supposed to be a fun, month-long family vacation. He was just a boy, caked in sand from crawling around on his hands and knees to construct what you thought back then was the most complex structure of architecture in existence, and you were just a girl, your desperation for a friend to play with outweighing your shyness. Your parents seemed too busy with the new babies to pay attention to you, so you had to find someone else to hang out with, and here was this boy. You had approached him hesitantly, just really wanting something to do and someone to play with other than your annoying siblings, hoping that he wouldn’t turn you away.
“Did you make that?” Your first words to him were spoken shyly, hesitant, and had him looking up at you, squinting from the sun through his dark locks of hair.
“Yeah.”
“All by yourself?” He nodded again, looking proud. “It’s awesome!”
“Thanks!” He glanced back to his work for a second before pushing himself to his feet and offering you a sand bucket. “You wanna help?”
“Yes, please.”
“Cool.” He smiled brightly, showing off a missing tooth, and you smiled back, it was impossible not to with how full of sunshine this boy seemed to be. You followed him out towards the water to scoop up some wet sand. “I’m Mat.”
“I’m (Y/N).”
It was really that simple to become friends. You soon came to find that Mat was really funny, one of the funniest people you’d ever met- and still to this day you couldn’t forget how green his eyes sparkled in the sunlight while he was laughing, even if he was just laughing at his own silly jokes. The two of you slaved away at building your sandcastle in the hot sun and laughing at each other’s jokes for what seemed like hours before your parents came over to find you playing with a new friend. Your parents and his talked- about nothing you cared about at that age- while you and Mat sat with your feet in the water, eating ice pops and getting sunburned without a care in the world.
You still thought back to that month to this day. It was still one of your happiest memories: those hot watermelon and ice pop summer days giving you sticky faces and hands and sunburnt skin, eating ice cream on your tenth birthday and skipping along the pier next to him with your moms chatting behind you, collecting shells and messing with crabs together, being splashed with seawater and laughing even though you wanted to be mad at him. That was your happy place.
One conversation you remember distinctly from later that month was when you and Mat were sitting on the beach, sifting through the sand and collecting shells. Well, you were the only one actually collecting shells; Mat thought it would be funny to sit there and throw little crustaceans at you and make you shriek. Eventually, a hush had fallen over the two of you, and Mat spoke up. “I’m gonna be in the NHL one day.”
“The what?” Mat laughed at you, but you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. You laugh at yourself today, looking back.
“Do you know what hockey is?”
“Duh. My dad watches it.”
“I like to play hockey. I’m going to as a job one day.”
“That sounds cool!” Your young mind couldn’t even comprehend having any adult job, let alone knowing at this age what you want to do for the rest of your life Obviously, Mat was a boy who had plans. “It looks dangerous, though, do you get hurt?”
“I don’t really get hurt much.”
“I bet you’re good at it, then.”
“I am!” You smiled and laughed with Mat and leaned over your pile of shells to hug him, the deepest form of showing affection you knew at that point.
“I’ll come to see you play one day. I promise.”
Remember when life was so simple that a sandcastle was all that was needed to spark the beginning of a wonderful friendship, even if it only lasted a month? Remember when we didn’t have to worry about grades and work and money and taxes? Sometimes you wished you could take yourself back to that month, so you could have a distraction. You’ve been looking for a distraction like Mat had been all your life- while your parents fought from the other room, while you stressed over tests in school, during heartbreak after heartbreak, while you dealt with pressure taking standardized tests or getting your first job, or moving to New York City alone only weeks shy of your 20th birthday during the summer before you started college. Every now and then you would forget about that summer, but the moment you’d stress over something, your mind just drifted off and daydreamed of that lighthearted smile, and those shining green eyes, and you hoped he was happy wherever he was.
Mat.
Damn it, you would have tried years ago to google him or something if you knew his last name, or even where he lived. Unfortunately, those aren’t topics of interest to children, so they never popped up in your conversation, and neither your mom or dad seemed to care enough to remember what they talked about with his parents, probably too busy fighting all the time, you mused.
The fall after you’d moved to New York for college, your roommate Amy, who was extremely welcoming and always made you feel at home, decided to introduce you to the sports teams of the city in an effort to get you out of your apartment and away from your work. It was just your luck, you realized later, that she was especially into hockey. You were vaguely familiar with hockey, your dad used to be a huge hockey fan in your youth, but stopped many years ago in the midst of your parent’s marriage practically falling apart. Now he only watched it occasionally, a few years behind on who was up-and-coming. “Hey, might as well learn the sport. Maybe one day you’ll reconnect with that boy from your long-ago summer romance!” She spoke teasingly, lightheartedly, always loving to hear the sweet story of your childhood best friend who had slipped away and may have disappeared forever. She was always one for cliches. You had told her many things about your time with Mat, but never used his name; no, that felt too personal, as if he was a secret for only you to know about.
“Oh, come on, Ames!” You laughed, but you couldn’t help but hope. “We were, like, ten! I don’t think that qualifies as romance.”
“Maybe not, but the way you describe him… If you would’ve met in your teens, that story would have ended with some cute, awkward first kisses.” She loved a good love story, and you smiled and shook your head. Yeah, honestly, you wish you’d known him later in your life.
“Yeah, maybe.”
So, eventually, she took you to an Islanders game, letting you borrow a blue hoodie of hers from her large collection of NHL merchandise so that you would look like more of a fan. You sat through the game with her, excited and interested and eager to learn as she kept pointing things out to you to help you understand the game. Despite it being an NHL game, you hadn’t thought of the boy that sparked your interest in the sport all night, until, about halfway through the game, you saw a name mentioned overhead.
Mathew Barzal.
You knew it was nothing. Literally nothing. There are plenty of other people named Mathew, idiot. But you couldn’t help the soft spark of memories in you. You pushed it out of your mind and went back to the game, even though something, just something was nagging away in your head. When you looked up to the screen above the ice, you caught a glance of the name again. Mathew, spelled with one ‘T’.  A vivid memory pops to your head- you and Mat tracing your names and other words into the sand with sticks, just for fun, because that’s what entertains a ten-year-old apparently.
“I’m gonna be in the NHL one day.”
Mathew. One ‘T’. NHL. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, plenty of people probably spelled it that way, and you were probably grasping at straws, but hey what were the odds? A hockey player, Mathew. If only you could get a good look at the guy. Or… or something. You probably wouldn’t even recognize someone after ten years of not seeing them; you could hardly recognize ten-year-old you in photos! In your head, Mat was still eleven years old. Honestly, was there even a way to figure out if it was him or not? Ask him if he happened to meet a girl on a family vacation a decade ago? Yeah, and when would you get the chance to ask a professional athlete such personal questions?
...Well, tonight, apparently.
As you left your seats after the game, everyone happy and celebratory after a win, you almost had a heart attack when Amy grabbed your arm and shrieked. “Oh my God, oh my God, (Y/N)!” She pointed to her phone in shock, and you still couldn’t tell what she was reacting to, but calmed down, realizing it probably wasn’t life-threatening.
“Holy shit, Ames, are you trying to kill me?”
“Listen, listen.” She calmed down a bit, letting out a small laugh. “So let's just say someone I know, knows somebody,” You laughed a bit, knowing this was gonna be some new interesting gossip. “And they know where the players are going out to celebrate tonight.” She sent you a suggestive, winking look.
“No way. You want to go and… interact with them? Professional athletes? Us, talking to professional athletes?”
“I mean, yeah. Are you telling me you don’t want to flirt with a hockey player?” She saw the look on your face and shook her head. “Or! Or not even flirt. Just talk. Get a picture with them, or a signature? Or just let me talk and you can wave to them. I can promise you they’re all pretty nice to their fans.”
“You sound as if you’ve talked to them all before.”
“No, only one. And it was more of me talking and him saying ‘cool, cool.’ while he signed my jersey. But I always hear that they’re really sweet.”
“Well,” you thought for a moment. It would be pretty freaking cool to try and befriend a professional athlete, or even just pretend for a night that you knew them. You definitely don’t go out enough, you hadn’t really been to many bars- you had only turned 20 a few months ago and couldn’t drink yet, so what was the point? In fact, you’d barely left your tiny apartment since moving, and even though you weren’t one for bars or clubs, you were in New York City, for fuck’s sake! Might as well go out and live, right? “Alright, let’s go. But if we actually see them, you have to be my wing-woman.”
“Oh, hell yes.”
The bar you were going to wasn’t far from the rink, and according to a google search of the place, it didn’t seem too sleazy or gross- that was good. Of course it’s not sleazy, why would someone as rich as a bunch of professional athletes go to a sleazy bar? Because it was only a little further than where you had parked, the two of you walked together. As it settled in your head that you might actually see professional hockey players tonight, you started feeling a little nervous. Partially because you’ve never been in a place with that many famous people at once, but also because of the name that was still circling your brain.
“Hey, so I’ve had something on my mind because of this game.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You’re gonna think I’m completely crazy, but listen.” She looked up with a face, ready for your story.
“Give it to me.”
“Okay, so... this kid I told you about, that I met that summer? His name was Mathew. Spelled with only one ‘T’, I remember that clearly.” You laughed a bit, wondering how crazy you must have sounded to her. “And he told me he was gonna play in the NHL, right?”
After a second, you saw it click in her head. “No fuckin’ way. You think it’s Barzal?”
“Ames, I don’t know, I don’t know! There are plenty of Mathews who play hockey, right? But maybe he doesn’t even play hockey after all. Kids aren’t great at choosing their career paths, ya know? I just never learned his last name. I need his age or... something to identify him with.”
“He’s… like, 21, I think.”
“Yeah?” You paused. Why was this all actually matching up? “Yeah. So ten years ago he would’ve been eleven.”
“Holy shit, hoooolllly shit.”
“But I’m sure there are plenty of Mathews who are 21 right now.”
“Girl, holy shit. Look up a picture of him right now. If you had a summer romance with Barzy, I need to know immediately.”
“Okay, it still wasn’t really a romance, but same.” You pulled out your phone and typed his name into the search bar. “I don’t even know if I’ll recognize him after ten years.” Immediately after you opened the images tab, the first thing you noticed about him was the hair. Dark and thick and kind of wavy and looking extra soft in a few pictures, it did remind you of your Mat- whose hair had been full of sand and salt water and kept drying softly as he ran around in the sunlight- but you still couldn’t be 100% positive. It was after you scrolled past all the on ice pictures where you couldn’t really see his face well behind the helmet and found a picture of him- unstaged and off the ice and genuinely smiling- that you felt a strange spark ignite inside of you. Sunshine. His smile felt like sunshine. Maybe. Just, maybe.
Scrolling through other photos, your eyes caught one in particular. You opened a close up of his face and zoomed in a tiny bit more. Those eyes, shining all pretty and green in the sunlight. You could never forget them- not after ten years, and not after a hundred. His eyes, his chin, even the size of his goddamn nostrils, all the tiny, stupid details in his face… was this actually him? “Biiiitch....” Amy leaned closer to you and bumped shoulders with you in acknowledgment.
“What? Do you recognize something?”
“Kinda, yeah. It’s so weird.”
“So you think it’s seriously him?”
“I don’t know. But the last picture of his smile, I’d recognize that smile anywhere and… this. His eyes- that eye color…. I remember thinking it’s so pretty… even his fucking nostrils, Amy!” The fact that you took note of his nostrils might have been funny at another time, but you were currently having a crisis as to whether or not you were once friends with fucking Mathew Barzal.
“Yeah, I mean, they’re kinda big…”
“I… I don’t want to say that I think it’s him, that might just be me being too hopeful. But...”
“Holy shit. You might have been Barzy’s friend at one point. You could reconnect with him, and we could hang out with the players!” You shot her a look, and she knew to calm down. “Sorry. Alright, whether or not it was him, I’m still gonna get you to talk with him tonight.” You hadn’t realized that you had basically arrived at the bar, and you felt your heart start pumping you full of nerves as she opened the door. “You have my word.”
The bar wasn't too crazy- there was music playing overhead and that weird hazy bar feeling lingered in the air. Immediately you could see that there was a celebratory group of of tall men, some standing at the bar talking with each other, others talking with girls- some shared wedding bands with the women they were talking to, their wives apparently. So you figured those were the players. 
 “I can’t believe it.” Amy was still in shock next to you; you were too, but you needed to pull it together. “You and Barzal…”
“Well, we don’t actually know yet.” You pulled her into you by the elbow. “But please please don’t mention that to them, I don’t need them to think I’m crazy before I even talk to them.” She nodded back, but before either of you could comprehend what was happening, somebody- obviously one of the hockey players- seemed to catch her eye as they came into view near the bar. “A player you like?”
“Anthony Beauvillier.” She pronounced his name with an obvious swoon and you laughed. Oh, so this was that favorite player that she kept talking about. “Tito. Yeah. He’s cool.” She nudged you, smirking. “Oh! And he’s besties with Mat! I bet I could get him for you.”
“You? Talking to them?” As much as Amy liked to talk and wanted to meet the players, you knew she wasn’t the type to just go out and throw herself into conversation with somebody, and you knew she easily got tongue-tied- that’s where the two of you were most similar. But maybe it was just the fact that she was trying to help you out that gave her the boost of confidence to begin chasing after him. “Hey, actually, maybe we shouldn’t bother them. I’m sure they’re tired of dealing with fans.”
“We won’t pester them or anything. I’m sure they’ll see we’re not like, crazy crazy fans. Anyway we have a mission.”
“A mission?”
“Operation… I don’t know, Operation Find Mat Barzal for (Y/N).”
“Wow. Creative.”
“I know.” She laughed and smiled at you reassuringly. “Come on, both of us need to learn to be more assertive, don’t you think? We’re not annoying them, just telling them we think they’re cool, and maybe getting a picture. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” There was nothing you could say before she was- to your horror- reaching out and tapping Anthony’s arm. You were sure you looked nervous as he turned to look at the two of you, and your friend started rambling with a big starstruck smile on her face. “Hi, uh yeah. You’re cool.” You weren’t only feeling embarrassed yourself, but also for her. “I’m a big fan!”
To your surprise- or maybe not, he seemed like a sweet guy- he smiled back at her, and you almost melted under kinda his blue eyes as he looked between the two of you. He thanked her as she complimented his performance tonight and motioned to the phone in her hand. “You want a picture?”
“Yes please!” You took her phone for her to snap a couple of pictures of the two of them, glad that this guy seemed so chill and friendly. After the picture was taken, Amy still didn’t let him leave, no, to your absolute horror, she motioned to you. “My friend here, (Y/N), tonight was the first game she’s ever been to.” You could feel your cheeks heat up when he looked over at you, but couldn’t help but smile back up to him. Oh, he was kinda really cute...
“Oh yeah? Hope you enjoyed it.”
Oh. Oh, he was actually talking to you! “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t understand everything that was happening, I’m still learning, but.. it was still really fun!”
“Actually,” you felt Amy’s arm fall across your shoulders, and you looked over at her. God, what was she planning now? “(Y/N) happens to be a big fan of Barzy.”
“Oh God, Ames stop…”
“And I’m sure she’d like a picture with him. So if you could, I don’t know… point her in his direction, please? If he’s here? And if you think he’s got time for it?” You were in the middle of burying your red face in your hands in embarrassment when you heard him laugh goodheartedly.
“He wouldn’t mind. He likes talking to his fans.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure he’ll be especially happy to meet a new fan. He loves the praise.” All three of you laughed a bit, and you couldn’t believe that you were currently chatting with an NHL player. He looked behind his shoulder for a moment, before moving aside and motioning to the bar. “He’s over at the bar somewhere, by himself for the moment. Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” There was a certain lilt in his voice, was… was he teasing you? You smiled- but it probably looked pretty nervous- and glanced over to Ames.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” She winked at you and nudged you in the direction of the bar. “Go!”  
You bit your lip to hold back the growing smile at the thought of getting to talk to him, whether or not he remembered you at all. You looked up at Tito with a quick “Thank you!” before snaking around him and finding your way to the bar.
It didn’t take you long to notice him- he had a recognizable face, and you’d recognize him anywhere after looking at pictures of him for the whole ten-minute walk from the rink to this bar. He was standing at the bar, drink in his hand, and scrolling through his phone, a lock of dark hair drooping onto his forehead. His skin looked so golden in this light, as if he was back under the sun on a hot summer day- and it gave him a striking resemblance to the boy you knew ten years ago. There was something so different about seeing him in person rather than as a photo on your phone- it sparked up a weird feeling inside of you. If this was really him, it had been ten years since you last saw him, and a lot changes in ten years of somebody’s life. It may have been a strange thought but, wow, puberty really hit him in all the right places. He looked… wow. His cheekbones, his jawline,…. Okay, maybe it was kinda thirsty- ogling him like this- but you couldn’t help it.
Not only had he obviously changed physically, but he might be a completely different person. He was a professional athlete now- why would he need you anymore? That much attention changes a person. He might not be as kind as he was back then at eleven years old, he might not want to be friends with you or reconnect.
That is, if this even is him.
You swallowed down all your nerves and slid up next to where he was standing.
“You really made it to the NHL, huh?”  No shit he made it to the NHL, you thought. What the fuck kind of conversation starter is that?  It was a painstakingly slow moment as he directed his full attention away from his phone and towards you, and could practically feel the shot of confidence and adrenaline draining from your body when his pretty, confused eyes met yours. Oh, they’re a lot more light brown than they are green, you noticed, and you wondered if maybe all your memories of his “dazzling, gleaming green eyes” were wrong. You realized how strange you must look to him- you were just a random girl, approaching a super successful, let alone attractive, professional athlete at a bar. He probably thought you were trying to get a drink off of him or get into his pants for the clout.
Maybe you were expecting him to look up and immediately recognize you after ten years and sweep you up into a hug like in the movies, but it certainly didn’t seem like that’s what was coming.
“Yeah…?"  
He looked confused- his eyebrows furrowed up a bit as he looked you over, sizing you up or checking you out or just trying to figure out why this stranger was approaching him about his career choices. Suddenly, you found it difficult to hold eye contact. Of course he didn’t remember you. Who needs to remember their one-month-long friendship when they’re busy getting into the NHL? This was really starting to make you feel pathetic for holding onto the memory of your super short friendship for so long.
Well, you officially wanted the floor to open up and swallow you. Right now would be great. "Okay… that probably sounded really, really strange if you don't remember me. Or if it’s not even you. Umm, we hung out together in 2000 something…. 2008? The summer of '08?” You laughed awkwardly, trying desperately to lighten the mood. “We were, like ten, eleven?" He still said nothing, just watching you with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes. Oh god, you wanted  lightning to strike you dead, NOW. Literally anything would be better than standing here waiting for him to say something, anything! Even if he just says 'Who the fuck are you?' It would be better than silence. The silence was humiliating. "Okay, I’m so sorry. I probably got this all wrong and look like a weirdo." Right as you started to back away to run to find Amy and get the hell out of here, he held out a hand.
“Wait, wait!" His eyebrows shot up as if he couldn’t believe something, his outstretched hand reaching back to run through his hair. "Holy shit. Is it… (Y/N)?"  Your heart almost stopped right there, the moment he said your name, either that or it was beating so fucking fast you couldn't feel it. He said your name. Your name. He knows your name.
"Yeah.” You watched his face relax into a gleaming smile. Like sunshine. It’s him. You knew it now. “So I’m not crazy? It's… it’s actually you? Mat?"
"It's actually me." For the first time since you set foot in the bar, you felt yourself relax completely, and although you hadn’t had any alcohol, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Jesus, it was actually him. You crossed your arms on the bar and lay your forehead down on it. "Sorry, I just, it took me a second. I should have recognized you sooner.” You laughed a little bit into your arms at the sheer craziness of the situation. He still had that same warmth to him, the way he was always able to make you feel happy and safe, like when he distracted you on the beach while your parents were yelling inside or when he went too far trying to scare you with crabs and had to hug you and promise you he’d protect you from them.
“I can’t believe this.” You lifted your head to look back up at him, and he had a wide smile spreading across his face. “We actually ended up in the same city ten years later without even knowing each other’s last names.”
“Holy shit. Ten years? I feel old. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday.” Your heart soared at the idea that he still thinks of you- of the fun you two had together that summer. He took a sip from his drink, going quiet and just staring at his glass with a smile.
“You still think about it?”
“Sure, sometimes. I wonder how you’re doing, and where you ended up. I guess you ended up in New York.” He looked back up at you, eyes catching yours and gleaming all honey-hued golden brown and sending butterflies straight to your stomach. You could barely contain yourself, it didn’t matter that this was Mathew fucking Barzal you were talking to because to you he was still just your Mat, and that was even better. The sandy little boy with scraped knees. You couldn’t help but imagine how many people would kill to be in your position right now.
“I guess I just thought you would have forgotten about that summer, considering how successful you are now and stuff.”
He shook his head, smiling softer and reassuringly. “C’mon. I could never forget about that. It was my favorite summer to date.” He extended an arm and dropped it across your shoulder, pulling you in closer- no closer than two friends should be, but much closer than you ever thought you’d be to someone of his "social rank". It wasn’t any closer than you’d been in the past, but you were children back then. Now, you were young adults with hormones. He was a man. You would be crazy not to notice how warm and built he felt under his hoodie from obvious years of playing hockey, and there were dirty thoughts spinning around your head as soon as his large hand dropped to your arm and the dizzying scent of his cologne hit your nose. “You want a drink?”
You blushed and stuttered, shaking away any indecent thoughts. “Uh, I- I can’t. Yet.”
He seemed confused for a moment before laughing. “That’s right! You're a year younger than me, right? Aww, you’re still a baby. Can’t even drink yet.” He ruffled your hair gently, careful not to actually mess it up, and called the bartender over and asked for a glass of water, making sure to let him know that you weren’t old enough to drink yet. You could only laugh, remembering how much he loved to tease you back then. He obviously hasn’t changed in that department. “Ya know, you could’ve just DM'd me or something as soon as you found me. You didn’t need to dramatically approach me in a bar.”
“Well, I did kinda only find you tonight,”
His eyes went wide with a smile. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, like an hour ago. Listen...” You launched into your story as to how you came to realize that your long lost friend was NHL star Mathew Barzal, and how you didn't actually know who he was as a player. He actually listened intently, unlike any of the disappointing boyfriends you’d had in the past. Man, whatever girl he gets is gonna be lucky. “I wasn’t sure if it was you or not. I spent the entire walk here looking up pictures and trying to decide if I actually recognized you or if it was just my brain being hopeful.”
“Wow. I guess I’ve changed, huh?” He rubbed a hand across his face, still smiling that stupid, beautiful smile that made you all nervous, and your eyes followed, tracing over the familiarity of his features- from his eyes up to his hair and down to his chin, maybe lingering for a second too long on the way his lips looked so soft and tender right now, curled up at the corners into a little smirk.
“Not that much, actually.”
You hadn’t realized how intimate that moment seemed until he caught your gaze, smiling cheekily, and you were pretty sure he knew you were just checking him out. “Lucky for you, you got to skip past my awkward teenage years.” He lightened the mood, poking fun at himself like he knew how to do. Brushing the hazy hot feelings out of the air and blaming them on the rush of meeting your childhood friend after all these years, you reached for your water in order to cool the fire inside of you and the blush on your cheeks.
“Oh, I’m sure I would’ve loved to see that.”
You and Amy were over the fucking moon when you went home that night. You had exchanged Instagram handles and said your goodbyes to each of the men you had been talking with- she claimed to have been talking to Tito for the rest of the night and honestly, you’d believe anything at this point, after learning that your childhood romance- ahem, friendship- was with Mat Barzal. It took everything in you not to shriek like crazed fangirls. As soon as you got out of the bar, the realization finally hit you that you finally found Mat, and meanwhile, Amy was starstruck, having spent the night actually talking to NHL players and actually holding solid conversation.
“Holy shit please tell me everything! Right now!”
“Ames…” You could have told her what it was like to talk to him, disregarding anything in your past, the way he listened intently and made you feel like the only person in the world when his eyes were on you. You took her hands and looked into her eyes seriously, “Ames, we were right.” Okay, so much for not shrieking. Your friend threw her arms around you, jumping up and down for you. You couldn’t blame her, everything that happened tonight was crazy.
“You’re telling me that the kid you hung out with at ten years old has evolved into the one and only Mathew Barzal? Did he remember you?”
To be honest, it had taken everything in you not to try and drag him home with you or go home with him. He was intoxicating in all his warmth, the way his nose scrunched up, and his eyebrows arched when he smiled. The way he threw his head back when he laughed. The scent of his cologne had buzzed around your senses all night, clouding your judgment and making you want to say “fuck reconnecting as friends” and jump him right there. In fact, it still lingered around you after being pulled against his chest all night, and part of you wondered if it was the alcohol in his system, though not enough to make him drunk, that caused him to wrap his arm over your shoulder. If you had maybe harbored a tiny crush since your summer with him, it was heightened times 100 because of tonight.
You could tell that reconnecting with him- and eventually becoming friends again- was going to take a lot of self-control if you were gonna feel like this the whole time.
“Yeah. And he wants to catch up tomorrow. He said he’d DM me.” Amy was in the middle of shrieking in joy for you when, as if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the first thing you saw after opening it was a message.
barzal97: Get home safe :)
“Girl, he loves you!” You laughed and shook your head as she shook your shoulder and patted your back, “You snagged yourself a hockey player!”
After you left, Mat didn’t see any reason to stay out longer. He almost couldn’t believe it- had someone slipped something in his drink? Was this just a dream? But then he opened Instagram and scrolled through your Instagram momentarily after DMing you and stopped on a picture of you and your friends, it was clear- he’d found you. You’d found him, more like. After ten goddamn years. It felt like a movie. You still had the same vibe, he could feel it in him the moment you were beside him. What was it…? Familiarity. Warmth. Comfort. Nostalgia. Whatever it was, it was you. After taking a moment to reflect on everything that had just happened, he was quick to finish his drink and find his friend, wanting to head home and prepare for his little meetup tomorrow.  
As he was heading out the door with Tito, Mat knew he needed to confide in somebody. “You’ll never guess what happened.”
“Does it have something to do with that girl I sent over?”
“(Y/N)? You sent her over?”
“Yeah, I was talking with her friend. I noticed she didn’t come back after going to look for you.” Mat noticed the suggestive tone in his friend's voice and felt his face go pink at the thought of hiding away in a bathroom to make out- and maybe more- with you.
“No! Nothing like that. She was my friend when we were kids.” He had a serious look on his face, and Tito knew that Mat wasn’t kidding about this. “Really. We have a crazy story. We met ten years ago on vacation. We hung out for a month, and I haven’t heard from her since. I didn’t know her last name or anything, and she didn’t know mine, so it’s not like we could look for each other. But she found me.”
“Wow. She just said she was a fan.”
“Well, wouldn’t you think they were crazy if they told you that story.”
“It does sound like a movie.” He laughed a bit, patting Mat’s back. “So, what’s the deal with her now? Friend? Do you liiiike her? Do you like-like her?” The teasing tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.
“What are we, in middle school?” But he still shrugged, sighing. “I don’t know. We’re going out to catch up tomorrow.”
“Ooh.”
“Shut up.” He went silent for a moment, wondering over his question. Did he like you? He wasn’t sure. “Ya know, she’s with me in almost every photo from that summer. That’s how much we were together.”
“Well, if you guys hit it off, you should date.  I don’t need a competitor for best friend.” It was a joke, Mat knew and smiled at it, but he honestly couldn’t shake the idea of dating you. No, no, he’s only feeling this way because he hasn’t seen you in a while. It’s nothing but a bunch of resurfacing memories.
Hopefully, anyway.
The two of you really did hit it off the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next. You still got along just as well as you did when you were young, and maybe even better, now that you were adults and had more interesting things to talk about. He was funny, even funnier than he was as a child, and despite your original thought that the fame of being in the NHL must have changed him, he was actually kind of modest and shrugged and smiled with a pink flush on his face when you brought up his accomplishments. It was easy to be with him. He could talk and talk about his life and still keep you comfortable, inviting you to tell your own story, gushing over accomplishments that felt so small to you.
And that one catch-up date ended up being months and months more of friendship.
Friendship with Mat was one of the best things that ever happened to you. He was the ideal friend, he listened to you and kept an eye on you and pushed you out of your comfort zone when it was necessary. He loved hearing you talk about things you enjoyed and tried his best to find joy in your hobbies, even if he thought some were funny or boring. He was sweet, endearing, teasing. And it wasn’t long before he began bringing you out on casual outings with some of his personal friends, gushing and getting really into telling the story of how you were separated for ten years and reunited by maybe fate, maybe luck, who knew.
The only problem was that you wanted him to kiss you.
You wanted him to kiss you when you went out with him and Tito and Amy on Christmas, singing carols together and teasing him, asking him to sing louder because you loved the sound. You wanted him to kiss you on New Years, when you stood hand in hand in Times Square, shivering and smiling with red cheeks, but instead settled for a hug. You wanted him to kiss you after returning from his first All Star game in January, you wanted to congratulate him on being an All Star, because he spent so much time praising you and you wanted him to know he was just as amazing. You wanted him to kiss you when he was drunk on his 22nd birthday, all red-faced and giggly and dancing in the nightclub with a red solo cup in his hand and that stupid snapback on that made him look like a frat boy but suited him so well. He was hugging you to his side with one arm and, even like this, you were just praying that he would lay a messy, drunk kiss onto your cheek.
You just wanted his lips on yours. So, so bad.
But despite that, behind Amy, who was still holding onto the title of best friend, he was always the one you went to when you needed comfort or a companion or a distraction, or just to talk about certain things. Things like this.  
A week after his birthday, seven months into your friendship, you showed up at his door without warning, slumping against the doorframe when he opened it. “I have a problem.”
“With showing up unannounced? Yeah, I know.” He was joking and smiling, but maybe you missed it with how stressed you were. When you didn’t respond, he must have noticed the tired, strained look on your face and his happy expression dropped. He let you into his apartment, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. It wasn’t an odd thing in your friendship, he was always a touchy guy, especially when you were down, and you always welcomed it. He pulled you over to sit at the island in his kitchen and sat across from you. “What’s wrong?”
“I got a voicemail from my parents today.” You were already pulling out your phone to play the voicemail for him. Ever since that one month on the beach eleven years ago now, you and your family had been going back every summer for a week, up until four years ago, when you suddenly had a summer job and couldn’t afford to take a week off. You missed the beach, sure, but you definitely didn’t miss the way your parents would always find a way to argue and fight. Now, they were calling you and asking if you could come along this year.
“I think I’m missing the problem here. What’s so bad about a beach trip?”
You sighed and lifted your head. “Well, I want to go, and I already got my boss’s okay to take that week off. I really miss the beach. But my family is just… so overwhelming sometimes. I could try to hang out alone the whole time, but I’ll go crazy before the week is over.” There was a pause as Mat leaned back in thought, considering his options. Was this crazy? Was he crazy for doing this? Definitely. But, fuck it, ya know?
“I can come with.”
You scoffed. "No way, I'm sure you have other plans."
"Not really. Not that week." He saw the look on your face, and he really didn’t want you to have to deal with your family all alone for a week. "Look, I'll pay for my share of the trip, and I won't bother anybody." You laughed. There's no way Mat could go a week without bothering anybody. He laughed along, glad to see you happy. "Seriously. If you need somebody, I'll be there."
And that was it. That was how you ended up on a beach trip with the one and only Mathew Barzal, eleven years after you first met..
The first few hours of the trip down were blurry. Your family, in true vacationer nature, decided that all of you, your parents, siblings, you and Mat, should carpool together. So, at 8:00 AM, you loaded into the car, your parents up front, obviously, your younger twin siblings behind them so they could be monitored, and you and Mat in the very back. This was definitely a bad idea, 100%, but you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that sparked up inside of you when you told your family you would be bringing a boy along. Or the feeling you got when you looked at Mat sitting next to you, looking worn out and sleepy after six hours of travel-rest stop-travel-gas stop, with four more hours of travel left and suggested he try to get some sleep. You slept through the rest of the day, only waking up for bathroom breaks and rest stops, until eventually, you woke up around six in the evening with your head on Mat’s shoulder and his body angled towards yours, snoring softly and looking ever so soft.
“Mat, Mat wake up.” You shook him gently, laughing at the way he was drooling a little bit. He blinked his pretty eyes open and looked around, a little dazed.
“Are we there?” His sleepy, mumbling voice was so cute.
“Technically, yeah. But we can’t get into the rental house until tomorrow morning. So we found a place to sleep.” He groaned, his eyes slipping shut in protest, and showed no sign of moving from his seat. “Come on, you’d rather sleep in a real bed than this car, right?”
Those words had him slipping out of the car, his eyes half shut and holding your hand loosely, dragging his feet the whole way as you led the way to your shared room. He looked so cute in this outfit, grumpy and soft in a tee shirt and shorts and his hair looking extra messy. There was nothing you wanted to do more than sleep, but one detail had you stopping in your tracks as you opened the door.  Your parents had paid for three rooms- one for them, your siblings, and you and Mat- and of course, since your parents hated each other and apparently can’t stand to sleep in the same bed anymore, you and Mat got stuck in the room with one bed. Mat didn’t seem to care though, as he dropped his slides by the door and immediately collapsed in the bed, falling asleep almost immediately after mumbling for you.
“C’mon, (Y/N), get in...”
As you dropped down beside him in bed an appropriate distance from him and tried to ignore the sleeping beauty beside you, you began wondering if this whole trip was a bad idea. No, no way, you quickly pushed that thought away. This was Mat, your Mat, and you’re actually on the beach again with him. You fell asleep that night with a smile on your face, listening to the soft snores of the man beside you and trying to imagine what your week had in store for you.
Realistically, there's only one thing you can predict about this trip- it’s gonna take a lot of self-control.
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