#Soulmate!AU

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[nickfowlerrr]

can you feel it?

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (soulmate au)

warnings: really nothing but fluff. mentions of light baking burns. lmk if something needs to be tagged.

words: 2.3k

notes: this is my entry for @lunarbuck’s soulmate challenge. i used the prompt: you cannot feel pain until you meet your soulmate.🩵 and thank you to @dreamlandcreations for beta reading/editing my first draft!

Mmm, you hummed mindlessly. 

The sweet, warm aroma of your latest batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies swirled through your small bakery, filling your nose and eliciting a smile from you as you walked to the back counter, setting down the hot tray you were holding.

You slid off the oven mit you wore and tossed it carelessly before you spun around to get the last tray of dough in the oven.

Your fingers brushed the hot grate of the oven as you slipped the tray in, and though you couldn’t feel the pain or burn of it, you still mentally chided yourself for not being more careful. 

It was mid-September, that time of year when summer was still the season, but fall was all around. 

You had been messing with some seasonal recipes for the past few days and had most of your impending fall lineup set. You were going to start slow with the roll out, and today was the first day you’d have these cookies out in the display. 

You were a bit overly excited, but you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that today would be a great day since you’d gotten up. Even Nickie calling to let you know she’d be late for her shift hadn’t dampened your mood. 

You sipped from the straw of your cold brew, floating aimlessly around the quaint space while you were waiting for the cookies to cool, the oven to go off, or a customer to walk in. You’d swept the floor and cleaned the counters and tables a good three times now despite their already pristine state. It was a slow day, but you knew not to expect many people until after noon.

You eventually found yourself staring out the large glass window at the front of the shop, looking out onto the picturesque town street, watching the few passersby and the leaves that were blowing around; the branches of the trees that lined the streets swaying gently in the late summer breeze. 

You weren’t sure why, but as you stood there gazing out the window, you suddenly found yourself growing eager, a sense of excitement coming over you. You felt like you were waiting for something…someone.

Just as the feelings were put into words in your mind, the ringing of the entrance bell sounded and pulled you from your thoughts. You tutted quietly at yourself before you turned and went to greet whoever it was.

You stopped short on your hello when you saw Nickie pulling off her cardigan.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” you said with a teasing smirk and a raised brow.

Nicki smiled guiltily, “Sorry,” she offered through a nervous titter, “Eli’s alarm didn’t go off, so we were both scrambling this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off her apology, “it’s been pretty quiet so far.”

“It smells amazing in here, did you make the pumpkin cookies?”

“Last batch is in the oven right now,” you nodded with a grin. “There’s some in the display case already, grab one, tell me what you think,” you said, walking over to meet her behind the counter.

You grasped your hands together while you leaned against the side of the register, anxious to get her thoughts.

Nickie grabbed a cookie and just as she was about to take a bite, the bell on the door rang again. You turned, smiling to offer your usual, “Hello, welcome in!”, but your voice caught in your throat when you did, only managing out a half hello.

Your eyes met steel blue as the man who had just entered stalled in his path for a brief second. He blinked then and seemed to correct his posture, clearing his throat, eyes never leaving yours, “Hi,” he offered.

“Welcome in,” you breathed, voice much quieter than you intended it to be.

You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him as he approached the counter. He was tall, well built with dark hair, and god, those eyes. You could swim in them, they were so blue. He looked effortlessly cool, wearing a dark canvas jacket with the collar popped ever so slightly over a plain charcoal henley, his black jeans and boots completing the outfit as a chain of silver showed a bit from above his shirt collar. The dark color scheme worked well for the weather and for his features. The blue of his eyes even more emphasized by the color of his clothing. His jaw was square and sharp, and the structure of his cheekbones brought attention to the bags under his eyes. But they, along with his five o’clock shadow, only added to his aesthetic. You wondered if he knew that, if he was aware. You’d seen many a man who wore the same style, but it was so clearly put on. This seemed to be very him. Not that you knew him, of course, but still it was evident. 

It occurred to you though, as cool as he seemed, there was the tiniest bit of pink coloring his cheeks as he slyly rubbed his neck, before he finally stood before you, that betrayed his air of cool.

Nickie looked between the two of you with a quirked brow as you began taking the man’s order.

Your fingers twiddled over the screen in your nervousness while he looked over the menu, musing aloud before he moved to walk the display case. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, a wave of self assurance growing over him as he casually shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to watch you as you forced your own hands to still before standing up a bit straighter at the question. It was innocent enough, despite the smoothness of his words and the smile that played on the corner of his lips as he recognized your fidgeting for what it is - your own nerves bounding around you. 

“Oh, um,” you took a breath, thinking for a second, “I’m pretty partial to the classics, actually,” you said with a small smile, moving down a bit to be closer to where he stood, a bit of your own self assurance coming over you in turn. “The pink sugar cookie and the chocolate chip are probably the biggest sellers, too. But, in my humble opinion, you really can’t go wrong with whatever you choose.”

He smiled at you as you let your own gaze drift down to the case of treats before you.

“If you want to try anything, we do samples, so-” you were about to start rambling when the oven went off, both of you looking over at the sound.

“I’ll get it,” Nickie called from the small kitchen, just past the back counter, where she had gone to eat her cookie.

You turned back to the man and were met with his eyes already on you, both of your brows raising in quiet surprise. He was closer to you now than he was a moment again, and you tittered. You couldn’t fight the small smile that cracked on your face, and he returned a soft one of his own.

“Did you wanna-” you were cut off by Nickie as she looked around, growing a little frantic.

“Do you know where the oven mit is?”

“Oh, I had it..” you tried to think where it could have landed when you’d tossed it earlier, making a face as you came up empty, moving to search the area with her. “Ahhh. I don’t.. Damn,” you breathed.

You took another quick glance around before you moved to the oven. You really didn’t want them to burn.

“I’ll just grab it really fast,” you told Nickie as you pulled the oven door open.

She cringed at the thought, “I know you can’t feel it, but still, you shouldn’t do that,” she warned.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, “I’ll put them down super quick, can you just clear the counter and then we’ll move them to the rack in a minute.”

You could feel the man’s eyes on you still, and as you reached to grab the tray, you turned to speak to him, “Sorry. If you want to try anything, just let me know.”

As you were turning and talking, you blindly grabbed the tray. 

It took a second for it to hit you but then all at once you felt the burn. 

You quickly let go, pulling your hand back with a harsh gasp before you could get the cookies out. You grasped onto your wrist out of instinct as the pain burned through you.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you gripped your hand. 

“Are you okay?” both the man and Nickie asked in unison, watching you with concern. 

You flicked your eyes up to the man before looking over at Nickie. 

“It.. it hurts,” you said, confused by the fact that you felt it at all, and yet knowing full well what that had to mean.

“Oh,” she breathed in response, her gaze flicking over to the man still standing at the counter, but getting closer, all the while keeping his eyes on you. She blinked, eyes rounding slightly as she looked at you once more, “I’ll get a towel or something.”

She rushed away while you groaned softly. Both at the stinging burn and the fact that your cookies were definitely getting too baked.

“Just grab whatever will work,” you called to her, “they’re gonna burn if we leave them any longer.”

“I can grab them for you,” the man offered as he approached you, coming around the counter to where you were. “I uh, I haven’t met my soulmate, so…” he seemed a little embarrassed by the confession as you stared at him dumbly. 

Your mind was racing with all the things you wanted to say to him, but your tongue was refusing to move as you stood there holding your hand.

He stepped closer, and it seemed he was waiting for your permission as he nodded to the oven. You looked at him and then to the tray of cookies waiting to be taken out. You took a step back and gave him room to get to the tray. A part of you wanted to warn him that you’d thought the same thing when you’d grabbed it, only to be proven wrong, but another wanted to confirm that... that it was him.

You watched intently as he reached into the oven. It felt like he was moving in slow motion while you waited for his hand to make contact with the metal tray.

He grasped it and his forehead creased, brows furrowing as he quickly moved from the oven to drop it onto the back counter. You were holding your breath and almost deflated until you realized he was cursing under his when he was holding the tray.

“Shit,” he cursed once more, shaking out his hand, his brows still drawn together. You were staring at him with rounded eyes as you continued clutching your own burn.

You offered him your name and you stepped closer, your voice making him lift his gaze from examining the burn on his hand, up to you.

His brilliant eyes seemed to twinkle in understanding as he met your own. He breathed a smile, mirroring your movements and taking a step to you in turn.

“James. You can call me Bucky,” he simpered.

“Bucky,” you nodded as your lips curled into a soft smile of your own. “Thank you, for saving the cookies,” you offered.

“You’re welcome. Should maybe invest in some more oven mitts, though,” he joked with a mirthful smirk playing on his lips.

“I should,” you agreed with a nod and a light laugh. “Sorry about your hand.. I uhm, I have a first aid kit in the back,” you gestured with your head, “burn cream included.”

“That’d be good,” he said, “and you have nothing to be sorry about, I offered,” he continued, trailing you to the back. Nickie passed you sheepishly, though she gave you a small, knowing smile as she went to watch the front.

You swallowed hard and cleared your throat of your nerves as you worked to collect yourself, gathering your bearings with this turn of events.

“So... Bucky, huh?” you said as you grabbed the stuff you needed from the kit and watched him lean against the empty counter. You walked back over to him as he waited for you.

“Yeah. It’s uh,” he stifled a small hiss as you smeared some ointment onto his burn, gently holding his hand as you did. There was something about the soft touch that you couldn’t quite explain. The way it makes you feel, something you’ve never felt before. It wasn’t like the pain, it was more like a comfort, but still it was new. “It’s usually reserved for friends...family, but I think soulmate fits in there, too,” he smiled charmingly at you before taking the tube of cream from your hand. “Unless you like James more,” he offered, “honestly, I’d probably answer to whatever you wanted to call me,” he flirted easily.

You held your breath at the touch, and let out a soft titter at his words, a spark stemming from his hold as you let him put some ointment on your small burn. 

“I think I’ll go with Bucky for now,” you smiled, meeting his brilliant blue gaze.

“So I- I’m not too sure how this goes…” he started, a self-deprecating smile sitting crooked on his lips while he let go of your hand, somewhat reluctantly, once he was done with the cream, setting the tube on the counter before looking back at you, “but I was thinking we could start with dinner.”

There was a twinkle in his eye again, hope shining through, and you were sure your gaze held much the same as you waited for him to ask. “Are you free tonight?”

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #soulmate!au #bucky barnes x soulmate!reader

[dropsofletters]

i feel like i know you [jww]

SUMMARY: sometimes, we meet a person, a complete stranger in the streets, and we feel as though we have seen them somewhere else. a sense of familiarity that comes with longing and extreme love. however, it could only be one of those cases of deja-vu…if one does not think that there are other universes, roaming around its axis at the same time that we do.

jeon wonwoo doesn’t believe in the concept of soulmates, but somehow, he always has the same one in various universes.

maybe, destiny does exist.

TITLE: i feel like i know you

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

GENRE: soulmates!au ; soulmates in different universes!au ; friends to lovers!au ; unrequited love!au ; forbidden love!au ; childhood friends!au and wonwoo finding his way back to oc again and again.

WORD COUNT: 8,000 words approx.

TYPE: fluffy fluff ; fantasy ; alternative universes ; angst if you squint

NOTE: this was a ko-fi request! you can go over there if you want to request something from me.

UNIVERSE 01: friendship.

A pendant sits on the palm of her hand.

It dangles in between his fingertips; tips colored by Kool-Aid, burning red. The music is a little too loud in the cramped room, where the strands of his bleached hair merge in between the black, original ones. Wonwoo sits neatly, though his image is copied out of one of those magazines that he reads over every once in a while when at his job at the mall.

Maybe, this is where her friend met the supposed old lady that taught him the future was written in one’s palm. He’s a man of science, though he masks it as not. Books and articles highlighted on his bookshelves, casted in dust as he reaches his twenty-five years of age and he realizes that, perhaps, in the midst and wits of time he never truly reached what he wanted. No scholarship. No travelling. Nothing other than sitting at his small apartment, dangling a necklace, hoping for a sign.

“What do you want to know?” Wonwoo always speaks like he has a secret, eyes squinted, voice a rumble of depth. His vision, however, is settled on the pendant that only moves the slightest, from side to side, venturing into the unknown of what it is supposed to tell her.

Life, on the other hand, is a little bit more secure for her. She didn’t imagine her life to be big, and hence, settling seemed nice. Three years into a relationship that started out in college; a college degree that also sits on her bookshelf, waiting for it to mean something than it actually is, and work. Work has been hectic, with coffee breaks towards the coffee shop in which Wonwoo works at with a scowl to his face and a purse of his lips.

“The unknown.” She jokes, hand trembling a bit as Wonwoo rests it on his thigh.

His eyes roll, the sclerotic becoming a bit apparent, before he returns his gaze to her. For Wonwoo, the world is serious; like the heat of the Americano she has each day, and the routine of making perfect coffee. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” She looks back at Wonwoo. This is the man that would nod at every single one of her words when battling her fear of speaking in public back in high school. Her friend. The reason as to why she gets to speak now in her corporate job for some fashion magazine. She knows him far too well, dances with his eyes and knows how to sit him down with simple syllables. “You don’t believe in any of this.”

“I’d like to grant myself the benefit of doubting my beliefs.” He explains. The nineties are far more technological, fitted for someone like him, with up-and-coming laptops and websites. He could have been so much more, but it feels these days like he’s losing himself to a trail of nothingness. “They haven’t exactly worked to my favor the past few years, so what do I lose by giving you an answer to something? Shit, maybe, I could get an answer, too.”

She grabs his hand, pendant digging to the skin of her palm, engraving the thunder that Wonwoo had bought on a convenience store nearby. It was probably on sale, too. “You don’t need answers, Wonwoo. What’s not lost should not be hunted down.”

His eyes soften. Mirrors in shades of brown, like a lake house that she could never escape. Here, listening to Backstreet Boys, trying to hide from the reality that they are not kids anymore, is the man she trusts the most. The one person she cherishes more than life itself. For, Wonwoo was there for her to lighten up her days, even when the exposure of sunshine would hurt him, too.

“…Let me just answer one question of yours.”

“What for, though—?”

“Just to prove to myself that I’m not the only one that doesn’t have it figured out.”

She sighs, opening her palm once again and closing her eyes tightly. She imagines all that has happened throughout the years of her living on this earth. She has a job that she likes. She has gone through college safely, thankfully. She has a relationship but…these days, it feels like he doesn’t foresee a future. Nick, her boyfriend of three years, goes on and on about his plans in the future, but it never includes her. A shush coming after his words when she ever-so asks…

Would you ever want to marry me?

“The first letter of the love of my life’s name.” She spurts out, knowing that the universe will be unable to ever grant her a benefit of knowing, let alone draw it on her palm with a pendant. Wonwoo doesn’t raise his eyebrows, never judging out loud, but speaking under his breath.

“Totally not the asshole you have for a boyfriend.”

“Wonwoo, have some respect and concentrate.”

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugs, sending a tight-lipped smile her way before he’s tracing her palm with the pendant and letting it hang. The woman at his job told him that it would trace two answers; a circle was a yes, a line was a no, and what she was asking…they’d see if it could get answered.

Much to his surprise, they hold their breaths, looking at the pendant before it starts moving. Almost like magic, like the world has things that we will never understand to its full complexity, the necklace starts moving its pendant until it draws a shape. Repetitive not, perhaps a little bit two quick, but the two folds of the ‘W’ are apparent. Her eyes trail forward, widened in complexion, before laughter spurts out of her lips.

“This shit is crazy.” Wonwoo’s cheeks are tinged pink, standing up and clasping the necklace in between his digits.

“Totally. Uh, where the hell did you even learn this?”

“Remind me to never trust people from work again.” Wonwoo’s back is turned towards her, saving the necklace on the coffee table, and she thinks about it for a moment…

Wonwoo and her together…

Pfft, as if that could ever happen.

“Noted. This will never happen again—”

“Yep. Want to get some burritos?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The nineties had their own tagline, but ruining a friendship because of some stupid myth as the ear of technology was launching was totally not it.

###

UNIVERSE 02: opposites.

Wonwoo has always had an odd liking to coffee.

He presumptuously admits that he enjoys the taste on the roof of his mouth, and how it burns his palate and awakens him in the early mornings. Macchiato. Latte. Cold or hot. He enjoys them all. Hidden behind of strands of long hair, curled at the edges, and a pair of glasses so thick that they might as well hold all the eyes in the universe, he thinks it’s his own language. His way of speaking without actually opening his mouth. He grants happiness with a ‘good morning’ and a nod of his head, even though his coffee shop is not as big or as crowded as his family back home thinks.

A sigh leaves his lips, wiping the same spot he has worked on since the early morning. Only a client had passed by. A latte, decaffeinated, with two shots of vanilla and one of dark, moody chocolate. The busy man left without much of a glance at him, but the job was done. Hence, the day was uneventful, leaving him with pastries to sell and coffees to prepare. Aching to feel that this business is going somewhere.

He painted the walls green himself, thinking they’d match well with the plants his brother had gifted him after he moved to Jeju with his wife and worked on a gardening program over December. The tables, found in a trip to Scotland, did cost a little bit more than what he likes to admit, but it’s gloomy. Wholesome, like he wants it to be. A place that resembles the peace that comes with having a cup of coffee on a winter day.

It's summer.

Maybe, people just don’t want hot beverages.

The repetition of one of the first albums from The Beatles is cut off by the sound of a megaphone. Sharp and repetitive sentences shouted into the void of the street. People start to gather in front of his shop, but it’s not because of the coffee beans he brews every morning. There is someone else there—one of those hippies that he tries to stay away from.

Wonwoo pushes his hair away from his face, not even making the effort to clasp his beige apron off as he ventures to the entrance door and opens it with a swing. Standing on a small beer box is a woman; sporting a long floral skirt and a simple top that dangles off one shoulder. It reads ‘fuck politicians!’, loud and clear, like the sound of her voice as she asks for rights.

Rights to have some kind of reelection, for she thinks the government is corrupt.

“We are fucking marionettes to the politicians. Workers that will lose their nails clawing to get to the last bit of money they offer us. Not enough for us to eat and live freely—” She speaks into the megaphone, and he notices the soft hue of her lips and the crookedness of her hair. She’s not playing the part, but somehow, she looks quite beautiful in her messiness.

“Excuse me.” Wonwoo speaks softly, as per usual.

“Us women, we need to stay close, to protect the children of our lives. The people that need us the most. We are tired of staying silent—”

Though, she’s silencing him in the process. If this protest gets any heavier, he could even get jailed just because she wants to speak out…in front of a coffee shop. “Um, miss, excuse me, I have something to say—”

“Say it with me: ‘We shall not be silenced’!”

“Miss!” Just when she gives a moment for the crowd to speak, Wonwoo’s voice becomes loud. A shout into nothingness that brings color to his cheeks and a set of widened eyes that anyone could miss if they don’t look at him from up-close. She turns to him, still on that beer box, the wind blowing at her skirt and tracing the soft curves of her body. “This is my coffee shop…and—and I fear my clients would be scared of entering if they saw this protest in front of it. Could you please—?”

“What?” She questions, putting the megaphone down and raising her eyebrows. “This is something important.”

“Yeah! Totally. I know.” Wonwoo, though not a fan of politics, can understand that the economics are not the best these days. Hell, he fears that he will lose the business that he had worked so hard on. “How about this…I know that you planned this protest and that—”

“Just leave the fucking woman alone!” One of the protesters grits through his teeth, the others bursting in exclamations just like him.

“Yeah, fucking capitalist!”

“I could offer all of you coffee! And a place to talk. You buy me a cup, I let you have this whole…ordeal inside.” Wonwoo tries to smile, covered by the strands of his hair, but the wind whisks it away and she gets a good glimpse at him. The frown in between her eyebrows softens, mouth agape for a second before she brings the megaphone up to her lips again.

“We’re going inside! A small business needs us, everybody. We’re not getting out of this mess if we don’t make a change.”

Her hand lays on his shoulder, getting off the box and sending him a smile that blossoms one of his own on his face. It’s crazy how the world has millions of people, each more different than the last one, but there are still connections. Electricity that pulls two people together even with a mere touch, as he realizes just how gorgeous she is.

And so unlike him.

Such an impossibility.

He prepares her favorite coffee then. Sweeter than anything, with marshmallows on top, a caramel Macchiato that keeps her fed along with the guava pastry that she dared try. Speaking her mind away, he only sits and listens, knowing that this is the last time he’ll ever see her.

###

UNIVERSE 03: right person, wrong time.

He looks like the image of what his mother used to coo about every Christmas night when the eggnog got to her system.

Not a man of marriage, he used to say he was, when he was just fifteen years old and promising he could pull through with a relationship. At the time, his now bride-to-be Fae was the third wheel of the trio. The woman that would wipe her tears when everything got to be a little bit too much with him, and that would clasp Wonwoo’s hands in between her own and teach him how to be a better boyfriend. How to leave the faux interests of bad friends behind to build something beautiful.

That they built in just a few months of relationship, tainted and left as lukewarm friendship, got destroyed in just three months.

She’d dare say, however, as she lets the emerald green of her bridesmaid’s dress cascade down her back, knowing fairly well that the fabric fits her a little too snugly because she decided to bathe her stomach with alcohol just hours prior to this, that…Wonwoo was her first love. She had never loved as purely, harshly and truly. With rain falling down on them as they both cried their goodbyes, eager to make it work, but regretting forcing their friendship to be something more.

Now, he’s marrying Fae. They didn’t get together soon after they broke up. It took years, pulling away, falling apart as a trio, coming back together and Wonwoo and Fae being roommates during their senior year of law school for them to get in a relationship.

Though, the word has it that when a man is totally certain about a woman, things will fall into place quickly. He looked at Fae in the eyes quite like he does now, as she stands behind her. Fae has her soft peachy hair curled and tied at the top of her rounded face, lips opened in that heart-curling smile that shows all her teeth, imperfect and yet, so fucking gorgeous. She looks like she was taken out of a fairytale, glowing…and she should be happy with her friend.

Fuck, she is.

God, imagine how difficult it would be to explain to Heaven when she tried to knock on its doors at the end of her life that she was happy…but also a bit jealous that this wasn’t her.

Because once, when she was a teen, she thought she would be in this position. Standing in front of Wonwoo, eager to place her hands on his arms, tug him closer and press their lips together. Call it forever, because it sounds like it could be possible with him. And these are thoughts not to be having when at the altar with her two best friends, as his eyes get filled with tears when looking at Fae.

She wishes it was her.

Wonwoo does look her way at one moment, departing from his vision towards Fae and it’s almost like his shoulders fall. She knows, then, that he remembers the possibilities—what they once talked about when seated on the front-yard of his old house, through small pecks and giggles. They once said that they were ‘ride-or-die’, only to ride along the adventure that they tried.

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, raising the corners of her mouth, as if telling him that they have made it. The ‘happy-ever-after’ reached in different spectrums. Wonwoo smiles back, tracing the outline of his engagement ring, the one that will meet the new ring that will create, hopefully, a lifetime of happiness.

Not with her.

Of course, not with her.

And that doesn’t haunt her. It’s something that she wishes she could have told herself in the past, so she would have never placed herself in Wonwoo’s life that way, making his relationship with Fae easier and more factual from the beginning. However, now that she’s here, it brings nostalgia.

They were once kids, now he’s getting married.

There’s a baby waiting for him in Fae’s womb, that not many people in this church know about. If any, really.

That’s the magic of moving on, but at the same time, wondering why it wasn’t like how they wished for as kids.

She nods at him, mouthing the words: “I’m proud of you.” in hopes that he can read her lips. Wonwoo, excelling at everything he does, manages to do so, nodding back at her before returning his gaze towards his wife.

Then, comes the exchange of words. His deep vibrato promises to cherish Fae forever, and she believes him. Maybe, she doesn’t have anyone by her side, or a man that can compare to the quality of people that Wonwoo is, but the time will come. For now, she’s the tree that shadows over the couple, sheltering from the eyes of the judging as they kiss, after letting out into the world what they wish for each other. Enormous contentedness, for example.

She claps, hands coming together as if praying that they will get to live up to their words. Plenty of years that will come and would have happened to her if Wonwoo was truly her person. Or maybe, he is, because this buzzing excitement that builds like makeup within her chest, coating her heart in layers and layers to hide what truly lays underneath is…an indicative.

Wonwoo is not a person that she got rid off easily. If not, they wouldn’t be friends by now.

Cheers escape her lips, fists balled and raised high in the air for the new couple. At least, someone got to have a happy ending.

###

UNIVERSE 04: the unknown

“I wish I had your eyes.”

Wonwoo says so with simplicity, his nephew—or more like his brother’s grandson—looking up from the handwritten letter that is taking up most of his time and headspace. He takes off on the family genes, with the dark hair, stoic eyes and cat-like smile. Though, the blush is different. In his eighty-six years of living, Wonwoo can’t recall the last time he actually blushed.

He sits back on his chair, creaking from how old it is, wood carving into the spine that had once functioned as leverage for running miles in the Olympics, but now is just a tale that people rarely believe from him. With that, he gets to cross one leg over the other and smile.

Love. Oh lord, love. How beautiful it is, and so inexplicably unreachable for him.

People say that everyone has fallen in love at least once in their lives, but for Wonwoo, it never felt quite right. Women were beautiful in their own spectrum of differences; he had liked a few, if he dares say so himself, with relationships growing and then, withering to the pressure of passing a few months together. But he had never met someone that had him feeling like he could keep going. A romance that could paralyze him to the bone and make him stay.

Now he doesn’t move much, but he doesn’t have anyone that accompanies him, perhaps with a memory, as he sits on this damn uncomfortable chair at six in the morning, downs his two shots of coffee and then, proceeds to read whatever book he finds in his beloved book collection. He wonders if the problem was him; if he couldn’t just quite make his expectations lower so someone could sit by his side.

He feels like his soulmate never came his way, either.

Minho crooks one of his slim legs over his hip, turning to look at the old man. “Paps, I am quite sure you have them. My dad can’t stop going on and on about the Jeon’s and how their eyes are the reason they got ladies on the first place—”

“Not that. Your dad’s an idiot.” Wonwoo excuses, laughing from within his belly and earning a smile from Minho, who plays with the button of his pen. “I am saying that you have a look in your eyes that I wish I had. How long have you been going out with this lady?”

“Almost three months.” Minho admits, running a hand through his dense hair. “…I mean, I’ve liked her for a bit longer, but paps, this is…like…you have to know how it is. I love this woman. I can’t imagine any other girl in my life.”

He can’t say that thought has crossed his head. It’s difficult to fathom just one person being enough for the rest of his life. He was a man of education, so it wasn’t like he was lurking for hook-ups…he just liked the science of relationships more. Why hunt when it always ended in a fall-out?

And he never really cared enough to keep going, either.

“I don’t know how that is. Maybe, that’s the goddamned problem.”

“How—? What?” Minho’s incredulous voice has him standing up, forgetting his letter to his girl to frown at Wonwoo as he points at him. “You’ve never been in love?”

“Never met anybody who could truly make me feel at ease.” Wonwoo announces, clearing his throat and rubbing at the long hairs on his chin. “…Because that’s what love is to me. I didn’t want a woman that I could go crazy with in the sheets. I needed a lady that…made me feel like I could be a better man, who pressured me to be better but still, made it seem like it was nothing. Like trying for her was just enough.”

“That’s crazy…” Minho mumbles, taking a seat next to Wonwoo. It’s horrid that he has to live in the same house as his brother’s family, just because walking gets harder by the day. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I do.” Wonwoo contemplates, nodding along to his words before sighing. “I believe there are people in this universe that we are just meant to find. But I never looked, you know? I stayed still. Hoped the great woman would just burst through the door and be…perfect. For her to be ready for me. For us.”

“That’s not how it works.” Minho says. “Love is action. Soulmates are action, too. You can find them, but if you never truly make an effort to develop and help grow, it’s not going anywhere.” Those words ring within him, youth bursting from his vocal cords, but nonexistent in the antiqueness of his vision. “Because destiny can only do so much. People can be perfect for each other, while being imperfect in their own ways.”

His nephew, or grandnephew, stops for a moment before smiling fully, like a vein in his chest had popped and liberated him.

“If we learn to forgive, we learn to love.” He finalizes, pressing a hand to Wonwoo’s knee and patting it. Those words settle within him; regret basking upon the old man’s figure. Of having so much and yet, having lived so little. With that, the guy raises one eyebrow in questioning. “Would you like to read what I’m writing? I want to give it to her for our four-month anniversary.”

“Technically not an anniversary.” Wonwoo adds the obvious, only to have Minho laughing.

“And right and there, paps, is why you’re still single at this age and time.” He still doesn’t listen to Wonwoo’s grumpy ways, or the grumble that he lets out. Minho sits by his side, the bubblegum pink paper making Wonwoo cackle. “So, I started it off by spraying perfume on it.”

“Of course, you did.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“Oh, just so the lady never forgets me.”

“…And there goes, some of your dad’s genes popping out.”

“Paps, don’t be so grumpy.”

“Sorry, that’s what old single men are like.”

“Well, old man, let me show you what real love sounds like.”

###

UNIVERSE 05: we were just kids.

Bones chilled, crippling under the weight of small tremors, Wonwoo doubts this is the harshest rain the city has met. Not that he would know; he’s only been living for eight years in this wholesome world, but he knows for a fact that he could climb mountains with storms that could break the sky itself and he’d make it, just to meet his crush by the swings that near his home.

She’s his neighbor of sorts. His cousin studies with him, just one year older than him, and he ignores the kind of beauty he holds. The headbands that cling to her hair and tangle it even more. The gloss of her lips that may come from the donuts he always steals from his dad’s shelves just to give something to her. Her cheeks are rounded, like universes that he’d dare kiss if that wasn’t prohibited. Mom taught him that he shouldn’t get too close to girls, but she’s…gorgeous.

Intelligent.

She’s a storm waiting to unravel and he notices it when her hands splay under the rain, trapped underneath one of the picnic tables, waiting for the night not to eat them alive with the power of rain water. She may be made of sugar, like the sweetness of her words when she tells him that he’s the best student in his grade, that he knows things that even her, as his senior, has no idea about. That could be why she doesn’t get under the rain, afraid of it, cling to her own knees…

“Oh!” Wonwoo says his thoughts out loud. Of freaking course! Dad always lent his jacket to Mom when the weather got a bit cold. Though, he’s not a businessman. He doesn’t have a jacket around waiting to wrap around her arms. Instead, he stretches the sleeves of his yellow sweater, placing the tips on her ears and mumbling. “You must be freezing.”

“Everywhere. Not just my ears.” She points out and thank God it has gotten late—though not really, he may hear an earful from his parents when he gets back home—. Or, they could come looking for them. For, both her family and his knew about their whereabouts. “You’ll ruin your sweater.”

“You’ll get sick.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, though he can’t help but give a toothy grin that is mostly braces. “…That could give us an excuse to come over to my place. My grandma always makes the best chicken soup. Dad says it heals the heart.”

She smiles at him, crooked, closing her eyes the slightest before returning her gaze to the sky. “I’m afraid we won’t make it home tonight. I don’t want to stay out from home.”

Then, she pauses, lowering her voice.

“I’m scared.”

He hadn’t noticed that while being under the rain with her seemed like the most romantic thing to do, it was also something that she didn’t want to do. Responsible, eager to wrap herself up in her mom’s arms as she had hot chocolate to ease the ache in her joints, that’s who she was. The stars become her north, though Wonwoo notices she’s studying the houses not too far, where the lights have started to take place one by one because of people turning them on at the dusk of dawn.

That’s the cue he needs for taking off his sweater, leaving him only in a white t-shirt with a dinosaur imprinted on it. Then, he’s placing the sweater on top of their heads.

“Wonwoo!” She screeches, covering her face with her palms. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ll get sick, too!”

“I am getting you home, that’s exactly what I’m doing!” His black hair sticks to his face, turning around with his sweater getting drenched while on top of him. He’s already out of their hideaway, nodding at her. “Get here! We need to run before we get entirely wet!”

“Jesus!” She adds, walking alongside him and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep the two of them under the sweater. Wonwoo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart racing within his chest. “O—Okay. I’ll have my mom make you some hot choco in return.”

“Really?”

“O—Of course.” Teeth tittering, she gives him a smile when he looks down at her for a fraction of a second, running through the streets of their neighborhood, shoes ruined because of them splashing against the water-covered concrete. The tip of her nose glistens as if she had just cried, but she looks genuinely happy. “Wonwoo, you’re…the best boy I’ve ever met.”

They are only eight years old, but those words are enough to let Wonwoo know that he wants to be just as old as his parents are and cling to her hand just because he can, and because he wants to. He guides their scavenging, blushing, trembling, mumbling and tripping over his own words, perhaps even his shoelaces, because he is so young and yet, he knows this is love.

The romance his grandma always coos about in those books she reads as her dishes are finished.

The same love that his brother got scolded about just a few days prior for drawing hearts on his notebook.

The love that adults say they can’t find because they are too blind to the obvious. Only a heart that loves purely is able to hunt for romance. For, if love is viewed by a battlefield, it will only be a matter of time before the ticking bomb explodes and their territory is turned to ashes. He may not know a lot about life, or if they’ll last forever, but in his short years of living he knows he doesn’t want her anywhere but at his side, each and every afternoon, playing in that park near their neighborhood, swings with their names written in between doodles of hearts.

###

UNIVERSE 06: i promised i’d stay.

The first night of living with somebody should feel like the initiation of a construction work that only architects could battle with. It’s a promise of sorts; the trial and error that every relationship needs to go through, and she’s so certain about Wonwoo. Everything that he has established and shown to be in the year they have been together, but at the same time, lying next to him as the lull light of his reading lamp bathes over them, his eyes half-closing as he dives into a good read, feels like she could die at any minute.

Not because of him, but she just wants everything to go well.

It’s the fear of having people a few years from now telling her that they saw it from the get-go; that they wouldn’t work out in any way. It’s the irrational thought that pops in her head and tells her that, much like blogs and memes have emphasized, people are not to be trusted, for no one loves truly in this time and age. It’s the weight on her chest that tells her that he loves her, but she could have tried to put on something sexier instead of her usual cartoon pajamas.

She tries to fall asleep to no avail. People say that relationships no longer exist; we are just going from one person to the other, searching to be found. However, the thought of not having Wonwoo by her side and failing in this terrifies her. She is supposed to be the love of his life, the woman that he sighs about every single day and the mere reason why he has a smile on his face. She doesn’t ask for perfect, for they have had their arguments with tranquil conversations aiming to be respectful between the two, but she wants it to be him.

But what if it’s not him?

What if it’s him, but she’s not his ‘it’s her’?

Another turn on the bed.

Another tug of the sheets.

Another sigh.

Wonwoo closes his book softly, eyes closing the slightest before he turns to the side. That’s when he comes face to face with her, pulling the covers slightly over his chin before he connects his gaze to hers.

“I can hear the gears turning inside your head.” He whispers, licking his bottom lip and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before sighing. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She lies through her teeth, afraid of what he may think in that moment of overthinking. Though, Wonwoo doesn’t eat it up, humming at her words.

“Are you sad?”

“Not precisely.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not precisely.” She repeats.

“Is it something I did?”

“Not precisely.” She confesses, hiding her face on his chest and feeling all the weight on her shoulders come out in a sigh. “It’s the fear of what you can do. Like leaving, stop loving me, hating me after moving in with me…wanting to go somewhere else, loving someone else—”

“That’s impossible.” Wonwoo says with a scoff, placing a hand on her face and pressing kisses to her cheeks repeatedly, each softer than the last one.

“Promise me it’s impossible.”

“I can swear.” Wonwoo announces, pulling away to kiss her lips. Her heart races and calms down at his motions at the same time; the paradoxical magic that he pulls with her. “Because I choose to love you every day, even when there are millions of people out there, and circumstances that can happen between us. I choose to go to bed every night with you because I was tired of thanking God and having to think you’re far away. I won’t hate you, because I want to make it work.” He stops for a second, rubbing at a tear that had glided down her eye. “I choose you here, now, tomorrow, forever. You’re the love of my life not because the universe put you on my road, but because I choose you.”

Sometimes, we get lost on ‘the one’. The one person that was made to perfection to fit exactly what we wanted. However, we shape the person we love within our thoughts to be the one that we wanted. It’s up to us to accept someone, or feel like they are the kind of person that we want by our sides forever. She thinks this way as she cuddles closer to his chest, intertwining their legs, imagining if it will feel as safe and beautiful as it does right now when they are eighty and he keeps reading a few chapters before going to bed.

After all, doubting Wonwoo comes in spurts that disappear when she recalls that she feels like she has known him forever. Here, in this lifetime and the many ones to come.

Maybe, in another universe, they are just as in love as they are right now.

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen x raeder #wonwoo #kpop scenarios #writing #soulmate!au

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Eyes of a Stranger- E.M.

Did anyone ask for a Soulmate!AU? No! Did it bring me joy to write? Of course! Here you go my thirsty friends! Love you!

You move across the country to start looking for your Soulmate. Enter: Eddie Munson.

Masterlist

TW- Cursing, drinking, super fluffy fluff at the end

Pairings- Soulmate!Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 4,891

There’s a gap in your vision. There has been since you were born. It’s one of the facts of life. Everyone is born without their full color spectrum. There’s some chemical imbalance that prohibits it before the right time, and you hate it. You always have. Everyone talks about how beautiful brunettes are, or how delicious chocolate looks melting in a fondue pot, or bread, or even your childhood dog, but you can’t see it, and no matter how hard everyone tries to describe it to you, it never makes any sense when you look and see shades of grey. 

Your parents told you the stories of how they met, how their vision suddenly became full technicolor the moment they locked eyes on each other. How the colors finally swirled into place, completing the puzzle they’d spent their whole lives wondering about. It was one of your favorite bedtime stories, and you remember begging to hear it over and over again until their comforting voices lulled you to sleep.  

They were some of the fortunate ones. It’s not entirely uncommon for people to go their full lives without finding their soulmates. The world is wide, after all, but people can find love elsewhere, even if it’s not with the person they were meant on a cellular level to be with.  

As you grew, you found some small comfort in that fact, allowing yourself to explore the world past the missing warmth of brown that people describe. You let yourself have romantic partners no matter the color of their eyes, explored the nuances of casual and more serious relationships. How could you ever miss something that was never there, anyway? Of course, underneath that lies the crippling fear that you wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones. Sure, there are stories of people finding soulmates even in their last few years of life, but it doesn’t bring you any ease to think that there is someone out there, waiting for you, and the more time you spend apart is one less moment you’ll spend together.  

So, as you near your 23rd birthday, you decide to leave your hometown. You’ve spent your whole life intentionally meeting the eyes of nearly everyone you’ve come across, hoping to find the person that will make you whole, to no avail. It’s time you find new eyes to search.  

There are so many places, so many people that the only way you could ever decide on where to go is to not decide at all. You taped a map to the wall and threw a dart. First, it landed in America, then, on the American map, it landed in Indiana, and on the map of Indiana, it landed on a little town called Hawkins. “It’s as good a place to start as any,” You mumble, taking the dart out of the wall. The goodbyes to your family and friends are hard and tearful, but they know just as well as you how important this is. A couple of your friends had already found their soulmates, and every time you saw them together, your heart ached for their happiness.  

The journey to Hawkins is hard and long, moving all your belongings, finding an apartment with a rental agreement for just six months—if you don’t find your soulmate there, you’d move on to the next place—and a job that could support you while also giving you the opportunity to see a lot of people in a day. But you did it, and a few days after leaving home, you’re settling into your new apartment in the heart of Hawkins Proper. 

It’s small, and the plumbing creaks when you flush the toilet or turn on the shower, but it’s yours for the time being, and that’s enough for you. You arrange your sparce furniture the best you can to make it feel homey, and figure if things go well, you can always get more. The job you found is nice, and the people you work with are kind and funny, and soon you’ve made a little home for yourself in this strange, new place. 

“Y/N!” Your coworker, Steve shouts from across the Family Video. You look up from the shelf of movies you’re stocking over to where he stands behind the counter, his arms laying on the surface, shaggy bangs falling into his face as it always does when he doesn’t put a whole bottle of Farah Fawcett hairspray in it. 

“What’s up?” You call back, glancing between him and the movies as you put the cassette tapes back in their proper spaces. 

“I’m going on my lunch. You want something from the Dairy Queen?” You ponder his question for a moment, your mouth quirking as you think. 

“Yeah, can you get me an Oreo blizzard? And a chicken strip basket? I have cash in my purse,” You raise your eyebrows at him, and he gives a solemn nod. 

“I got you. I’ll be back in ten.” Steve turns and starts toward the back exit, and you go back to your work stocking the tapes, emptying the basket of returns as you meander from shelf to shelf finding the proper places. 

You hear the doorbell ring, and you raise your head, looking toward the door to the customer coming in. “Welcome to Family Video!” You greet. The man walking toward the horror shelves, and he looks over his shoulder in your direction and gives a nod. His eyes are obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses, which always irks you only because you won’t have the opportunity to look into his eyes.  

You walk back toward the counter to prepare to check the man out when he’s finished his selection when he looks back over to you. His dark, shaggy curls flop over part of his face as he calls out to you. “Do you guys have Pet Semetary in yet?”  

“Uhh, let me check,” You go over to the computer and type in the title. When the page loads, you let out a noise of recognition as you look back over to the man. “Yes, we do. But it’s still in the New Releases. Let me go find it for you,” You make your way around the counter to walk over to the New Releases wall, scanning the titles with your eyes, hands on your hips until you spot it. You bend over to pick it up and bring it back over to the counter, where the man is waiting for you to return. 

“Thanks,” he says, giving a small smile. He looks to be about your age. The hands he has rested on the surface of the counter are littered in heavy silver rings, and he’s clad in a faded, moth-eaten Iron Maiden shirt with an acid wash jean vest over it. There’s a small hoop in one of his nostrils, which glints lightly under the fluorescent lights hanging above you. The mostly black curls that hang around his face are highlighted grey where the light hits, so you assume it must be brown. He’s handsome, for sure. His relaxed features give him a refreshing air about him, like you know he’d be an easy friend to have.  

“No problem. Will this be all for you today?” You ask, your customer service voice lilting in the air. He pouts his lips for a moment, looking down at the candy selection below the counter before picking up a king size Reese’s and placing it and sliding it toward you.  

“This too, please,” he says, his pretty smile returning to his boyish features. 

“Sure,” You scan the candy and place it in a plastic bag with the movie. “Can I get your name please?” You ask, moving over to the computer to pull up his profile. 

“Oh, hey Munson. What’s up, man?” Steve comes from behind you, having returned from his break, and you look over your shoulder to his award-winning smile as he offers a hand to the man to clasp. 

“Harrington,” he says in greeting, a breathtaking toothy smile curling at his lips as he takes Steve’s hand in a light slap. “You know, just hanging out,” He shrugs. “What about you?” 

“Oh, you know, I’m just... here,” Steve lets out a small laugh. You watch the interaction, waiting for the two men to finish to complete the transaction. Steve looks over to you and gestures in your direction. “This is Y/N, she’s new in town. Maybe she should come out with us next time we go out to the bar. She needs more friends,” Steve jokes, and you hit him lightly in the shoulder, scoffing. 

“Oh, shut up, Steve. It’s not like I’m a loner. I’ve got you and Rob,” You justify. 

“Yeah, only me and Rob. There’s a whole wide Hawkins out there still to discover, Y/N,” You roll your eyes and shrug off the arm he’s casually rested over your shoulders at that and settle your gaze back on Steve’s friend, who holds a hand out for you to shake. 

“I’m Eddie, nice to meet you,” You take his hand and shake it briefly, a friendly smile forming on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Y/N L/N,” He gives a quirk of a smile as your hands leave each other. Steve tuns to you, his hand on your shoulder as you look away from Eddie’s face to listen to him. 

“Well, I put your lunch in the break room, if you wanna go ahead and eat. I can finish taking care of Eddie if you want,” You give a nod, moving out of the way for Steve to take over the computer. You give one more small wave to Eddie. 

“It was nice to meet you!” You say. 

“Yeah, you too,” he says. “And you’re definitely welcome to come hang out with us sometime. We usually go chill at the Hideout at least once a week so, you know, you can get the details from Stevie, here,” You can see him quirk a playful eyebrow over his dark sunglasses as he reaches over to clap Steve on the shoulder. A chuckle passes your lips at the nickname, but even more at Steve’s dry reaction to it. 

“Okay, thanks,” You turn to Steve. “I’ll be back in 30 Stevie,” You give Steve a playful bump of your hip before turning and walking toward the back. 

“Yeah, ha ha, whatever, dude,” He scoffs, feigning annoyance. You give another laugh as you push the door open, the smell of your lunch wafting through the otherwise stale air of the back. 

The end of the day nears, and you and Steve are cleaning up the store preparing to close when he mentions Eddie again. “So, I think we’re gonna go out Friday night if you wanna come with us. It’ll be chill. Just some drinks, maybe some pool. Then we usually go to Benny’s after for some burgers. You in?” You shrug, pushing the dust mop across the floor. 

“Yeah, sure. Not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Your eyebrow quirks in thought then as the silence comes back over the store. “Can I ask you something?” 

Steve looks up from where he’s wiping down the counters. “Sure, what’s up?” 

“Has Eddie... has he found his soulmate?” You try to say it casually, but Steve lets out a taunting sound, his elbows going to rest on the surface of the counter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Ahh, you like him?” His sugary tone makes a heat break out on your face, and you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. 

“Not necessarily,” You try to defend yourself. “I just don’t like it when people come in with sunglasses. It’s a pet peeve, I guess. I just don’t like the not knowing part,” You hear Steve scoff from across the store as you reach the far wall with the dustmop, turning around and starting back the other way. 

“Well, no, he hasn’t found his yet. What color are you missing?” He inquires.  

“Brown,”  

“Oh really? Eddie’s eyes are brown.” Steve muses. You scoff at that. You may find Eddie attractive, but what are the freaking odds that the first place you’d moved to would be the home of the one person on the planet you’ve been waiting for your whole life? 

“Come on, Steve. There are 7 billion people on this planet. What are the chances, really? I was just curious,” 

“It happens every day! Everyone’s got someone out there, Y/N. Why couldn’t it be Eddie? Hell, why couldn’t it be me? Or Robin? Or Keith? Just because the chances are slim doesn’t mean they’re zero,” It’s almost like he’s reminding himself of that, too. You’re not the only one that struggles with not having their soulmate. Steve is nothing if not a romantic, you’ve learned. You’ve caught him more than once smiling at the store TV on a slow day, with what as well should be heart eyes while watching some sappy romance movie. You can only imagine that he’s wishing that it were him with his soulmate. You definitely do, from time to time. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that the chances are incredibly slim. Like, one in 7 billion slim.” You wouldn’t mind if it were Eddie. You wouldn’t mind if it were anybody. Maybe it’s your quarter life crisis talking, but you’d throw yourself into the arms of anybody who made you see brown. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

You used to imagine what your soulmate looked like as a kid. It was actually a school assignment once, in first grade or so. An art project. You remember your parents had it hung on the fridge for a long time, sloppy first grader scribbles with big grey circles for eyes and pink hearts littered around the piece of paper.  

Friday is busy. People like to rent movies in preparation for the weekend. All day it’s person after person as you, Robin, and Steve rotate around the store putting movies away, stocking candy and popcorn, and checking customers out at the register. You’re over near the 18+ section putting away the Z movies when you hear Eddie’s voice over the din of people milling around the store. “Hey, guys. We still on for tonight?” You glance over at Eddie, who’s in a black and white t-shirt that looks just a tad too small—a blessing for you as the sleeves hug his generous biceps, black ink peeking out from beneath— and torn jeans today. There’s a chain hanging from his belt loop and as your eyes look to his face, you see he’s not wearing sunglasses today. Maybe you’ll be able to look and finally put your nagging thoughts to rest. 

“Excuse me miss, can you help me?” You turn to look at the middle-aged lady who’s gently tapped your shoulder, taking in her blue eyes as you stand to talk to her. Like Steve said the other night, there’s a chance your soulmate could be anyone. 

“Of course, what can I do for you?” You keep your attention on her but flick your eyes toward the counter, where you see Eddie still talking to Robin. Just a peek. Just one, and you can stop thinking about it. The lady’s voice pulls your eyes away at the request for the location of a movie, and you dutifully show her the way, taking glances where you can, only to see the shaggy mop of curls obscuring a proper view of Eddie’s face, which you know has that pretty smile as he laughs at a dumb joke Robin threw his way. When you reach the right shelves, you have to bend down to get the movie she’s looking for, and you hand it to her quickly. As you turn back to where Eddie and Robin were standing, talking, laughing, just a moment ago, you find the spot empty. Damn it. I’ll see him later, you think, shrugging it off as you make your way back to the basket of movies waiting to be put away at the back of the store. 

The last dregs of the day give you a bit more energy as the store gets increasingly quieter as less and less people come in in the final hour of open time. There’s more laughter among the three of you, joking and talking about your plans for tonight.  

“So, do you want us to pick you up?” Steve asks, looking to you as you sort through new returns.  

“Yeah, that would be great!” You give him a smile. “Can you pick me up at about 10:30? We’re meeting Eddie at 11, right?” 

Steve nods, tying up a trash bag to take out to the dumpster. “Yeah, that’s cool,” He says. 

“Oh, and you don’t need to wear anything super fancy or whatever. It’s a pretty seedy dive bar, we’re going to, so jeans is fine,” Robin adds. You nod appreciatively at the advice and take a moment to write down your address on a stray post-it to hand to Steve. 

“Here you go, and my phone number is on there too, just in case you need it,” Steve takes it, looks at it for a moment, and then stuffs it into his pocket for later. 

“Awesome. Well, if you want to go ahead and clock out, Robin and I can finish up here. We’ve just gotta finish counting the drawer and take the trash out.”  

“Thanks! I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then,” You wave to both of them and make your exit to the back of the store to where your car is parked and drive home to your apartment. You decide to take a quick shower to strip the layer of grime accumulated from your work day from your body, letting the warm water carry away the stress down the drain. After that, you dry your hair roughly with your blow dryer before making your way to your tiny bedroom closet to look for something to wear.  

You know Robin said not to wear anything fancy, but you do want to look nice. There’s a 1 in 7 billion chance that Eddie is your soulmate, but even if he isn’t, it would be nice to have someone as good looking as him flirt with you for the night. You decide on a hand me down pair of bellbottoms from your mom that makes your butt look incredible and a simple black halter top. You pair it with a nice long necklace that trails down your cleavage, just to give a path for Eddie or whoever to look down and some small gold earrings. You want to do a nice neutral makeup look, but browns are obviously a difficult color to work with, so you make do with orange and peach tones. 

You’re only waiting for about 10 minutes until you hear a knock at your door, and you open it to a smiling Robin. “Hey! Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, let me just grab my purse,” You walk across the room to the kitchen counter to your waiting bag, already packed with your essentials for the night before walking back, key in hand to lock the door behind you.  

The drive over to the hideout is short, and Steve pulls into one of the only parking spaces available. “I thought you said this was a seedy dive bar?” You say, an eyebrow quirking up at all the cars littered around the lot. Steve makes a face in the rearview mirror as he puts his car into park. 

“Yeah, but it’s still one of the only bars in town. There aren’t many places to choose from on a Friday night,” You let out a scoff at that, but shrug it off as you click your seatbelt off and open the door to get out. 

You follow Steve and Robin into the bar, handing your IDs to the bouncer to look at before he gives you a curt nod and lets you through. The bar is pretty packed. It’s not very big, so it seems even more crowed as groups of people hover around the pool tables and high tops around the edges. There’s a small wooden stage near the front, and the light is off. There’s no one playing tonight, you guess. 

“Hey! What do you want to drink? First round’s on Steve!” Robin shouts over the din of the other patrons.  

“Rum and Coke?” You suggest. You don’t really drink much, so it was just the first drink that came to mind. Robin nods in acknowledgement and shouts your order to the waiting bartender. You look around, your hands fidgeting with the strap of your purse over your shoulder as the nerves set in just a touch. You make brief eye contact with anyone you can, trying to pass the time before Robin bumps your hip with hers, hands occupied with drinks. She hands you yours and you take a big gulp, grimacing at the taste. Okay, maybe you won’t order this one again.  

“Steve saw an open table at the back, let’s go!” You nod and follow her through the crowd, taking special care not to bump anyone and spill your drink. Finally, you reach the four-seater table pushed almost completely to the back wall, and you climb into your seat, pushing your purse against the side that’s on the wall to the side.  

“So, what do you think?” Steve asks expectantly, arms gesturing to the scene around you. You give a laugh and an incredulous shake of your head.  

“It’s exactly what I expected, but also the complete opposite at the same time,” Steve shrugs. 

“Yeah, it was for me, too,” He laughs. Just then, Steve’s eyes look over your head, and he stands and waves his arms above his head. “There’s Eddie,” He explains as he sits back down. You heart beats hard in your chest suddenly. Chill the fuck out, Y/N, it’s not a big deal, You think to yourself as you take another big drink from your cup. 

A few minutes go by, and Eddie still hasn’t made his way to the table, you assume because he’s busy getting his drink, so you take a brief glance back and see him, drink in hand, a flirtatious smile on as he talks to a pretty girl standing over by one of the pool tables. She laughs at something he says, her blonde ponytail swinging. You can feel a heat fan over your cheeks as you turn back around, and you try to continue your conversation with Steve and Robin casually.  

Come on, be serious. You don’t even know this guy. He’s just some cute dude that happens to know your friends. It’s not your business who he flirts with— 

“Hey guys!” A shiver shoots up your spine as you feel the sudden warmth of a body right behind you. The unexpected closeness of Eddie as he comes to sit in the chair next to you makes you lose all the nerve you had spent all day building up. “Sorry, it took me so long. I just ran into Chrissy,”  

“Don’t worry man, you’re good. You remember Y/N, right?” Steve gestures to you, and you give him a small smile, looking toward his face but directly at him, looking away quickly to take another drink. 

“Of course, I do. I couldn’t forget a face like that. How’ve you been?” He asks, voice lilting sweetly. You nod exaggeratedly as you swallow, pulling the cup away and setting it down a little too harshly on the grey table, his casual flirtation nearly making you choke. It does nothing to calm your nerves.  

“I’m good! You know, just... hanging out.” You can’t help the awkward overtone to your voice as you avoid eye contact. You glace over at Steve and he shoots you a “Buck up, buttercup!” look. 

“Y/N’s on a soulmate journey!” Steve exclaims suddenly, practically forcing you to confront your fear of looking at Eddie. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, immediately regretting telling him when you had that conversation the other day. You bow your head low to try to hide the raging heat spreading over your entire body.  

“Oh, really? How’s that going? Where have you been so far?” Robin asks excitedly. “You know, I’ve actually been thinking about doing something like that, but I barely have any money to support myself, let alone to galivant across the country just to look at people,” She says. You lick your lips and nod, intent on keeping your eyes on Robin’s though you can feel Eddie looking toward you with interest. 

“This is actually the first place I’ve been. I’m only gonna be here for six months, then I’ll move on to the next place,” You explain. 

“Well, why Hawkins? This seems like a pretty nowhere place to start,” Eddie asks from beside you, and you shrug. 

“I didn’t really pick it myself. I just threw a dart at a map. Well, several maps,” Your eyes flick up as you remember looking everywhere for a proper map of Indiana before finally settling on a small, printer paper sized one you found on the internet.  

“Ahh,” You let your eyes wander over to Eddie’s hands, which lay on the table, decorated fingers wrapping loosely around his drink, which appears to just be whiskey on the rocks. “What color are you missing?” He asks casually. You freeze up, just for a second, your lips trying to catch up with the short circuit happening in your brain. 

“B-brown... What about you?” You’re tempted to peek, but you want to wait for his answer. You don’t know which answer would make you feel more at ease, but you’re on the edge of your seat in the moment it takes him to answer, and you take another drink to help calm the quick thrum of your heart in your chest, feeling a bit disappointed as you drink down the last dregs. 

“Oh, me? I’m missing Y/E/C.” He says. You can feel his eyes on you, and your quick glance to Steve and Robin give you encouragement, both of them practically begging you to look at him, and you take the leap. 

You look up to Eddie’s face, letting your eyes meander up his face until your eyes settle on his. They’re a rich black color, and you’re so close to looking away, the dejection building in your core when it happens.  

Your parents were right, the color really does swirl into place. You watch, mouth falling slightly open as the black transforms into this warm, dark color you can’t describe. How could you? It’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Brown. This is brown. You let out a little laugh as more brown starts settling into the scene around you. The tables, the bar, the water stains on the plaster ceiling—all different shades of brown, and it’s immediately the prettiest color you’ve ever seen.  

“Oh, my god.” You manage to mutter. It’s all so overwhelming you feel like you could cry, but Eddie’s gaze on you keeps you steady. His smile widens, pure joy glinting in those beautiful eyes. 

“I had a feeling, but... I didn’t think it was possible,” Eddie breathes as he scans over every feature of your face. You scoff, thinking about all the time you’ve spent over the past few days thinking about him. 

“Me too,” You laugh. You reach a tentative hand forward, and Eddie takes it midair, guiding it to his face. You feel your skin vibrate as you touch him, your thumb gently swiping over his cheek. Your reverie is interrupted by Steve and Robin, who start yelling across from you. 

“WE’VE GOT SOULMATES OVER HERE!” The whole place erupts in applause, and you and Eddie giggle as the whole place starts chanting, “KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!” There’s a hint of hesitation, but then a playful glint in his eyes as Eddie looks back to you. 

“Would that be okay?” He asks, brows furrowing as he reads your reaction. You give a little nod, briefly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Might as well. Looks like we were made to,” You muse, batting your lashes flirtatiously. Eddie gives you a quick toothy smile before settling his hands on your face, and it’s like time moves to a standstill as your lips touch, gently at first, to test the waters, but then you slot your mouth onto his fully as the electricity streaks through your body. His lips move perfectly against yours, and everything around you becomes white noise as you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

As you part, you’re both grinning like love drunk idiots, giggling as your foreheads rest against each other. “A dart on a map, huh?” Eddie muses. You shrug, laughing again at the sheer insanity of it all. 

“Yeah. A dart on a fucking map!” Eddie’s lashes barely brush yours, his warm, sweet breath fanning over your face. 

“Thank God for that fucking dart, then.” His lips search for yours again, and you meet him in the middle with a smile that has your cheeks aching.  

1 in 7 billion has never seemed better. 

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmate!Eddie munson #soulmate!au #eddie the freak munson #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mild self loathing, mentions of the slave trade

word count: 3,679

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words 'I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

a/n: The soulmate!AU won the poll (sort of, i know there's 8hrs left but i don't foresee the other competitors having an underdog moment here)! Happy 500/1000 followers celebration!! I'm thinking this will be less than 10 chapters, but it def will be more than the 3 I promised. B/c despite knowing I have no self control and learning from that I continue to make the same mistakes smh. Drabble ideas always turn into full length stories in my dumb head🤡 but I'm excited for this one.

01: UNSTOPPABLE FORCE MEETS IMMOVABLE OBJECT

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"a soulmate isn't someone who completes you. no, a soulmate is someone who inspires you to complete yourself. a soulmate is someone who loves you with so much conviction, and so much heart, that it is nearly impossible to doubt just how capable you are of becoming exactly who you have always wanted to be." ⏤ b.s.

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You weren’t sure what was worse: knowing for most of your life that you were destined for a life on the run, or knowing that the universe deemed your soulmate to be a bounty hunter. It was some cruel twist of fate, you supposed. The galaxy was bored and decided to entertain itself by creating the most ironic coupling of all time. Honestly, if you weren’t one half of the said coupling you’d probably find it funny.

The cantina you sat in was like any of the other thousand you had sat in before. Messy, loud, and filled with people you had no desire to speak to. This one was especially worse because it was situated in Cratertown on Jakku of all places. It was a scud cantina in a scud city on a scud planet. The only reason you were still here was because you were desperate⏤ desperately searching the entire galaxy for a person who may or may not exist. You just wished this mysterious figure hadn’t picked cantinas as their signature hideaway spot.

You tapped the table twice, and the server passed by to fill your drink once more. You shot them a grateful smile and thanked them. Despite having barely any credits left in your pocket, you’d have to leave the server a hefty tip. You’d been here hours now, and he had put up with you the entire time. With a grumble of annoyance, you pulled a crumpled paper out of your jacket’s inner pocket and began to scratch out the last cantina on this damned planet. Bad news, this was a bust. Good news, you’d never have to step foot on Jakku again. 

“I can bring you in warm,” A voice spoke from behind you, “or I can bring you in cold.”

There they were. The words imprinted on your left rib cage since you turned thirteen. 

If this wasn’t your twentieth time hearing it then you might be impressed.

You slowly turned in your chair, hands raised, and stood. Now, you faced the Trandoshan bounty hunter holding you at blaster point. He chuckled as if he had already won. You shook your head, feigning disappointment, “Would you really arrest your soulmate?”

The Trandoshan narrowed his eyes at you in confusion. “What?”

“Well,” You shrugged, “It’s bound to work and get me out of a mess one day.”

You kicked the chair forward causing it to slam into the bounty hunter’s legs. He stumbled, grunting in pain, and you grabbed his hand to twist the blaster in a direction that wasn’t your face. He tried to reach out to hit you with his other hand. Before he could land a blow, you tucked your boot under the chair and kicked it up so it slammed into the Trandoshan’s jaw. He fell back, the blaster coming loose in his hand so you could snatch it away, and then it was you holding him at blaster point. 

“First off, you bounty hunters need to get more creative with your opening line.” You said. The bounty hunter growled and began to sit up. “Second, I’ll give you only one opportunity to walk away with your life. It’s your choice⏤” He jumped up to lunge at you, and without blinking you fired his blaster into his chest three times. When his body lay on the cantina floor, twitching, you sighed and tossed the blaster to the ground. “You literally didn’t even let me finish my offer, you ass.”

You glanced around, dusting off your hands, and realized the entire cantina was staring at you. With an awkward chuckle, you raised a hand and offered a sheepish smile. “My bad. Sorry.”

Knowing it was past time for you to get the kriff out of here, you bent over and rifled through the Trandoshan’s jacket. You found the holopuck and rapidly blinking tracking fob⏤ tossing both into your pockets. Then you rose only to kneel down again and steal the man’s credits. You threw the entire bag of coins onto the table you were sitting at and waved at your server who stood behind the bar with wide eyes. It’s not like the bounty hunter needed them anymore.

Hopefully, you’d be done fighting bounty hunters for the night. As you stepped out into the chilly, desert night air you paused to scoop the tracking fob out. The holopuck you would keep to add to your growing collection, but the fob was better off destroyed. You slammed it into the side of the cantina and let the broken pieces fall into the sand.

Maybe the galaxy had actually done you a favor. You stopped believing in the magic of soulmates a long, long time ago. So fate choosing to make your supposed soulmate the worst kind of being who floated around the universe was the best deterrent you could think of.

Din Djarin wasn’t sure what was worse: knowing for most of his life that his soulmate was going to be a criminal of some kind, or knowing that it was going to be his job to bring you in. If he really thought about it, took the time to write out a pros and cons list, then he’d have to choose the former rather than the latter. Din didn’t like thinking about it for very long though because the thought that fate deemed him the kind of person only worthy of love from someone who had done something to make them deserving of a bounty was a bit depressing. For the longest time, Din liked to pretend that maybe it was all some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe you were an Empire bounty and the reason you were wanted was because you fought against some Imps. It wasn’t a solid theory because he had only picked up a bounty for the Empire once and it had been Grogu’s. Din didn’t plan on picking up an Empire bounty ever again⏤ not that they’d want him to considering his history with Moff Gideon and the absolute pain he’s caused them since finding Grogu. 

That didn’t leave Din with many better options.

For the longest time, Din had been nervous before a hunt. What if this was the time he ran into the person fate chose for him? After a while, he grew a bit numb to it. Hardened. The longer he worked as a bounty hunter the more okay he was with being on his own. The thought of having to care for a soulmate exhausted him. Din started to hope he’d find you just so he could be rid of the entire situation. After Grogu came into his life, he realized what a lonely existence he had backed himself into. Things changed then, but having a foundling⏤ having a clan⏤ was more than he had ever hoped for in life.

Now, Din just ignored the words carved into the skin overlying his left rib cage.

“Patu.” Grogu cooed from the satchel hanging from his shoulder. Din glanced down to see the little boy trying to wiggle out to reach for a stand where a merchant was grilling some kind of meat. Din chuckled and paused long enough to buy two sticks. Grogu chirped happily when he handed both to the boy, and then he kept on his way.

Nevarro had certainly improved since the shoot out with Moff Gideon ages ago, and according to Karga it was only supposed to get better. Speaking of, he finally spotted the man standing in a plaza where⏤ Din paused and tilted his head. Even Grogu stopped eating to stare up at the statue. IG-11 was coated in bronze and stood tall in the middle of the plaza like decor.

“Ih.” Grogu chirped.

“Huh.” Din added. This was a new addition to Nevarro.

“Mando!” Karga cheered and he turned to greet the man who was dressed in ornamental robes. Din smirked to himself. It was good to see the power hadn’t gone to Karga’s head. “Welcome!” When Karga was close enough he held an arm out and Din didn't hesitate to clap his arm in a shake for greeting. “What brings you here?” Din didn’t respond and just tilted his head. “Right. Of course. How about we… handle these matters inside?”

Din motioned for the man to lead the way then followed. The building Karga led him into was just as ornamental and fancy as the robes he wore. Din once again had to resist the urge to laugh under his breath. They went all the way up to what he was assuming was Karga’s office.

“This is nice.” Din nodded.

“It is, isn’t it?” Karga dropped into his desk chair with arms outstretched. Din stayed silent and Karga’s grin and arms both fell. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

 Din shook his head, glad to have his helmet covering his wide grin and keeping his tone dry, “Mocking the Magistrate of Nevarro is beneath me.”

“High Magistrate.”

“Mhmm.” Karga waved his simple response away and dug through a drawer to find a few holopucks.

Din nodded toward them. “So, is it normal for the High Magistrate to still dabble in guild work?”

Karga shuffled through them. “Only sometimes, and only for my favorite hunters.” 

“Well, in that case, I’ll take the one that pays the most.”

“You always do.” Karga picked one puck out of the masses and activated it. A woman’s picture appeared and Din’s first thought was that you were pretty⏤ beautiful even. The High Magistrate said your name and Din wondered if he had heard it before. Something about it felt… familiar? No, that wasn’t it. Din shook his head. It hardly mattered. “She’s a tricky one, I should warn you. Many hunters have tried and failed, Mando. She works in the slave trade.”

Din huffed. That was proof that a pretty face wasn’t everything. No amount of good looks could wash away the sins of someone dealing in flesh. If Din had to pick a flavor of quarry he hated the most, it would be this kind.

The sound of laughter followed you down the ship’s ramp as you trailed out with a smile. The Mon Calamari crew you had managed to hitch a ride with gave you a hearty farewell, and when your feet hit the landing pad you spun to point at them with a smile of your own.

“Thanks for the ride, you guys! Stay safe, and keep Horchobua away from the spotchka,” You teased the navigator of the ship’s crew, “He was one bad round of sabacc away from owing me his first born.”

Another rowdy laugh from the crew, and the captain called back, “Stay out of trouble!”

“I always try!” You replied. It just never seemed to work.

The stars had aligned and luck was in your favor when you left Jakku. Circumstances that had startled you as it was far from the norm in your case. You had been able to get a lift from Jakku to Bespin. The city in the clouds that the Mon Calamari crew had dropped you off on was gorgeous. Though maybe you were that much more impressed since you were coming from a shitty desert world that made Tatooine look clean.

You readjusted the small cross body bag you wore over your jacket. The triangular shaped bag held literally everything you owned. A spare set of clothes, a cloth bag filled with a dozen holopucks, a datapad that only held a simple map on it, some toiletries, and a small, silver jewelry box you couldn’t get open. Everything else you owned was on your person. A simple, worn down shirt and pants that had seen better days. A thick jacket that you were able to strip on and off based on the weather⏤ though you usually kept it on since the back and arms had some armored padding. Boots that were close to falling off your feet from use. A metal dagger strapped to your right thigh, and a weapon tucked away into a shoulder holster under your jacket that you never used. It was a simple existence, but you didn’t mind it. Growing up with absolutely nothing to call your own, this was actually an example of you thriving. 

Over the last seven months, you had gotten very good at sniffing out cantinas. It was a gift. Some people could sing, some could paint, you could be dropped off into any city in the galaxy and you’d be able to find a cantina in under half an hour. It was a bit of an old talent to claim, but you’d take what you could get. When you stepped into the cantina, eyes drifted to stare at you. Unbothered by the attention, you winked at the closet patron and pressed in further. 

At the bar, you claimed the attention of the Twi’lek working today and ordered a drink. While he poured it, you leaned forward. “I’m looking for someone. A man named Reaper.” 

The bartender set your drink in front of you. His eyes darted to your neck before darting back up to your eyes. He shook his head. “No.” You tossed the right amount of credits on the bar along with a small tip. Before you could walk away, the Twi’lek stopped you. “Hey, that it?”

Rather than cause a scene, you tossed a few more credits on the bar and wandered away while the Twi’lek muttered in his native tongue behind you. You dropped down at a table in the back of the room which would give you a clear view of the entire space. Absentmindedly, your hand lifted to brush against the band of solid gold wrapped around your neck. Anytime people saw it they assumed you had more credits than you actually did. That wasn’t even the part that bothered you most. What you hated was the fact that the attention it drew made it very hard for you to forget about it.

You took a large swig of your drink and then leaned back in your seat to wait. The information you had included three facts. The informant you needed to find was called 'Reaper' which you personally thought was obnoxious. He was hiding away in a cantina every day for the same amount of hours waiting for customers. And, he would only offer you the information you wanted in exchange for information of equal value. You had the right kind of tip to trade, now you just needed to find the bastard.

For the first couple of hours, you just sipped on your drinks and people watched. It was how you killed time while in these cantinas waiting for a person who might not ever come. Right now, the bartender was hitting on a human woman who had absolutely no desire to reciprocate the action. Two Rhodians sat at the table beside you gossiping about work. The back booth had a Wookie, who you initially was concerned would be after you, but a Trandoshan had joined them and their interaction had all their attention on one another. Most, if not all, the patrons of this cantina were of the upstanding citizenship kind. The exact opposite of Jakku. In fact, you were the only armed person in the room. 

It was during that third hour that a new face wandered into the room. Though, calling this stranger a new face seemed redundant considering the helmet he wore left him faceless. A thrill went down your spine at the sight of him. Wow. Mandalorian. You had met a man in Tatooine who wore Mandalorian armor, but he told you it didn’t belong to him so you assumed that didn’t count.

This man was covered head to toe in polished, silver beskar armor. Seeing the rare metal made you realize why it was valuable. A cloak, shredded and torn at it’s end, hung from around his neck and you clocked every weapon you saw. Blaster on his hip. Incendiary grenades on his belt. Rifle shells on the bandolier across his chest and around his right calf⏤ though you saw no rifle. Vambrace with no visible weapon, but you’d garner a guess it hid one. Floating in behind him was a circular egg shaped pram. It was closed and you wondered what kind of dangerous tool he hid away in there.

The darkened, t-shape visor scanned the room and you realized it stopped right on you. What were the chances this dangerous looking Mandalorian, who wore a pair of binders on his belt next to the grenades, wasn’t here for you? 

You hadn’t been the only one to stop and stare at this towering man, and eyes seemed to follow him as he slowly crossed the room. Honestly, you were a bit insulted. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Did he think so little of you as a quarry? You knew you had a reputation. You had killed and escaped enough hunters to earn one. Yet, this bounty hunter didn’t hesitate while walking through a crowded room to arrest you. The absolute gall of this shiny Mandalorian.

He stopped right in front of your table⏤ a silent statue. You shifted on the bar stool and sat forward so your back wasn’t pressed against the wooden backing and the balls of your feet were planted on the floor. Your hand lifted out to your glass, and the Mandalorian reached for his blaster at the same time. You raised an eyebrow in question while slowly bringing the drink to your lips. As much as this last drink had cost you, you weren’t about to let a drop go to waste. The Mandalorian continued to stand stiff as his hand rested on his still holstered blaster.

Then came the words.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” 

The Mandalorian’s hoarse voice drifted through a modulator and you felt the hairs at the back of your neck rise in response. It was silly what this man’s voice alone had done. A whisper at the back of your mind said this was different. This was not the same as every other encounter you had with those words. Your stomach churned nervously. Fear clawing its way up into your chest. Please, no. Maker, no, no. Not now. Don’t let this be the moment. 

“Would you really arrest your soulmate?” You replied, and you hated how the words came out hushed and quiet rather than confident and bold like you usually said them. The Mandalorian didn’t flinch. He didn’t do anything. The fear began to diminish and you let out a sigh of relief. Thank the Maker. He wasn’t your soulmate⏤ he was just an intimidating Mandalorian with a very attractive voice. You knew how to deal with that. Pasting a smirk on your lips, you shrugged. “You scared me for a second there, Mandalorian.”

You shoved the table forward, as hard as you could, while leaping up. It slammed into the man’s abdomen right below where his beskar chest plate provided protection. A grunt of pain left him as he doubled over, and you quickly grabbed the bar stool you sat on and swung it around to hit the Mandalorian. It made contact with his shoulder’s pauldron and helmet. The bar stool exploded into shards of wood⏤ losing it’s battle against the beskar⏤ but it succeeded in knocking the man to the ground. Without missing a beat, you sprinted for the door and then out into the night air. Based on that interaction, Mandalorians weren’t nearly as tough as the rumors stated, but, unlike him, you weren’t going to underestimate your opponent.

You didn’t slow your pace, slipping in and out of darkened alleys, and breathed a sigh of relief.

That had been close.

The pram floated closer, doors open, and Grogu leaned out to stare down at him in question, “Buir?”

Din laid on his back staring up at the ceiling in shock. ‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’ Dank farrik. Shit. He let every single other curse word he knew ring through his mind and still it wasn’t enough. Soulmate. He found his soulmate. Din had a bad feeling the moment he stepped into the cantina and spotted you sitting at a table alone. The bounty puck didn’t do you justice, and Din had felt drawn in by your magnetic gaze. It only got worse when he got closer. He should’ve taken that as a hint and left⏤ called Karga from hyperspace and let the man know that he was turning down the bounty.

But, no. Din made the egregious mistake of speaking to you, and his punishment had been your timid response. Your voice was quiet, and it felt like a soft caress. An intimate whisper. In moments of weakness, he always wondered what those words would sound like, but he never imagined what fate actually gave him. Din had been starstruck. Face bright red in warmth yet frozen in disbelief as his mind reeled for an answer. 

You spoke once more, this time voice filled with confidence that matched the smirk you suddenly adorned, and before he could even register your words you were attacking him. If anybody Din knew had seen the fight⏤ if it could even be called that⏤ he’d have to hang up his armor and die in shame. It was embarrassing how easily you bested him with a table and bar stool, and if you hadn’t caught him so off guard it never would've happened. 

Grogu had hopped out of his pram and now stood on Din’s chest so his small, green hand could repeatedly pat his helmet in question. Technically, his son had seen that display, and for the first time he was glad Grogu wasn’t fluent in Basic.

“Yeah, ad’ika.” Din groaned. “I’m okay.”

He rolled to sit up and realized the entire room was still staring at him. Din rose stiffly and set Grogu back into his pram. Awkwardly, he gave the room a small wave and cleared his throat. “Sorry.” For good measure, he tossed a few credits on the table that had knocked the wind from him and made his leave. Din paused outside the cantina and opened his mouth to heave an annoyed sigh, a curse slipped out with it, “Dank farrik.”

Din Djarin had found his soulmate.

Well, fuck.

mando'a translations:

ad'ika: little one /// buir: parent (father)

taglist: @onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl

(i've decided to start a separate list for this story b/c i just can't bring myself to post the AFS taglist in fear that someone on there doesn't want me spamming them with this story sorry i have anxiety lol)

[next chapter]

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #female reader #reader insert #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #greef karga #grogu #soulmate!au

[barbra-annbunny]

Oh God, does it hurt when a lover is in pain; especially when they are out of reach from your touch.

They stared at the mirror in silence, a shared understanding of what they were seeing going unsaid. Instead of a reflection of the two men being shown in the mirror, there sat a person in a strange room. They were bent over a desk drawing on a peculiar tablet with a white stylus. Their long braids were laid flat against the back of the chair, tamped down by weird-looking earmuffs. This person wore a long shirt, a pair of shorts and not much else. Along their wrist was a hodgepodge of bracelets of all different kinds, these bracelets were nestled against the base of a tattoo. This tattoo was of a Chrysanthemum and Lily of the Valley, nestled side by side on the softest part of their inner forearm.

The men’s eyes widened before looking down to their own wrists. Upon the taller of the two’s inner forearm lay a Lily of the Valley and a Carnation nestled beside each other, as if in a warm embrace. Similarly, the blonde man had a Chrysanthemum and a Carnation laid in a similar embrace on the inner forearm. These men looked at each other again, blue meeting black. 

“I think I have a new dream,” The pirates said at the same time.

“Better than the All Blue?”, the green haired man smirked.

“Better than becoming the World’s Greatest Swordsman?” The other replied, as he put out his cigarette.

They looked back to the mirror and answered each other’s question in tandem, “Definitely.”

Carnation - January primary birth flower (reader)

Lily of the Valley - May primary birth flower (Sanji)

Chrysanthemum - November primary birth flower (Zoro)

Here’s a little blurb i wrote about Sanji and Zoro learning that their soulmate is in a completely different universe. I haven’t decided if I will expand this, let me know if you would be interested!

#zoro x sanji x reader #one piece #soulmate!au #soulmate tattoos #soulmate trope #soulmate au #angst? #zoro x reader #zoro x sanji #sanji x reader #zosan x reader

[1d1195]

Half & Half

Here is my new soulmate idea. (New meaning different than my other ones I wrote back in the day.) A tattoo appears on the left ring finger of each person when they turn 16 years old. It’s a black outline, nothing crazy—obviously, it’s on the ring finger. It has to do with how you meet your person. (You’ll see in a second.) It’s vague, there’s not much rhyme or reason.

Q&A (because I feel like there are always questions when it come to soulmate ideas):

Q: Sam, won’t multiple people have the same tattoo? A: Great question. Potentially. It’s irrelevant though for the sake of the story.

Q: How do they know it’s their other half? A: Another good question. The pair of tattoos change to the same color.

Q: Well, Sam, hypothetically, if four people are in the same room and meet their respective half can’t they all have the same color change? How will they know which person they belong with? A: It won’t happen. Q: How do you know? A: Because I wrote it that way.

Q: What happens if you don’t find your soulmate in this universe? A: Then you’ll be sad like Harry.

Q: What do you mean Harry is going to be sad?! A: Warnings: Lots of angst, sad, pining Harry, mentions of death, mentions of sex (pg-13 at most)

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask! (But be warned I'm making this all up on the spot!)

That’s it. That’s all you get. (there will also be like one or two liberties I'm taking with this idea that may have forgot to disclose that you'll read in a few minutes). A black tattoo that marks how you’ll meet your other half. When you meet that person, the pair of tattoos change to the same color. I don’t have a preview for you because this turned into a lengthy foreword. Enjoy :)

How can you miss someone you’ve never met? / Cause I need you now, but I don’t know you yet / But can you find me soon because I’m in my head? / Yeah, I need you now, but I don’t know you yet.

Harry looked at the little tattoo on his ring finger. He’d been staring at it since he was a teen. The morning of his sixteenth birthday to be exact. It was small, the length of his first knuckle to the next and he thought it was a cruel fate that it was a little coffee cup. How was that supposed to narrow his search? Why couldn’t it have been something like Niall’s—a snake? How often did one encounter a snake? That would be easy (and it was for Niall). Or something like Gemma’s—a diploma? There was only a certain number of graduations Gemma anticipated attending.

That was more than twelve years ago he woke up with the taunting little marking. For the first week he drank no less than four cups of coffee a day and had his mum drive him all over town to the different shops in hopes of finding her. Anne took it all in stride knowing how she spent eight hours at the library the first day she saw the book tattoo on her finger when she was Harry’s age. It was just something that needed to be done. The heart wanted, what the heart wanted.

He wished he knew what was on his love’s ring finger. It would have been better if the two markings were paired in the tattoo that appeared on his skin. It wasn’t much help to know it had something to do with their first meeting. It could be anywhere. Harry could have coffee anywhere. After that first week, he decided to relax. He was sixteen. There was plenty of time to meet his soulmate.

But sixteen became seventeen and suddenly he was twenty-eight, no soulmate, and the little coffee cup on his finger mocked him more and more every day. There was therapy or services he could try. People could potentially help, but it just felt so tragic. He wanted to just know. Wanted it to be a natural meeting; the way it was intended. Simply discovering one another exactly how the tattoos indicated they would. None of his friends or family needed help. The many Google searches told him it took a mere average of five years to find their other half.

He had more than doubled that time. Twelve years. The person that he was destined to meet was somewhere out there with who knows what etched on their skin. Maybe they had a coffee cup too. Harry had heard of that. But Niall’s soulmate had a balloon because he had taken his nephew to the little balloon cart after the snake exhibit at the zoo. Both the little outlines on their fingers turned green as they met. It happened. He found her.

Gemma’s soulmate had a camera—someone who happened by at the exact moment they needed someone to take a picture of their family after she graduated. Their outlines turned a brilliant shade of red. They had met. She found him. They could start their lives together.

Anyway, it was unlikely Harry and his other half both had coffee cups.

It wasn’t like Harry had a tragic upbringing that he desperately needed his love at the other end of this tattoo to help him cope through life. He adored his mother and sister. He had a great education. He wasn’t bullied and had a set of good friends. He had a stable job and a good home. If anything, it seemed kind of selfish of him to be so upset he was without his soulmate when everything else was good.

But he longed for his soulmate. All day. Every moment. It ached to his core. He swore his heart was beating for his person, tapping out a rhythm that sounded like a name that he wasn’t allowed to hear. His friends and family were all concerned for his well-being. They couldn’t imagine the heartache Harry was suffering and they wouldn’t wish it on their worst enemy. All-encompassing adoration and love? He had plenty of that to give. He wanted to be at the receiving end of it. A match made in heaven. Or whatever cosmic reality was out there. Harry had watched so many movies and read so many stories depicting the meet-cutes between soulmates. He wanted his.

There were therapies and people to help if you lost your soulmate. These, essentially, were dating sites if you didn’t want to be alone after an untimely passing or something else (although Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario that didn’t include death—what was the something else?). Harry thought about the websites and the grief counseling. Because as he approached his twenty-third birthday, he was getting lonely. All of his friends and acquaintances were paired by then and found the loves of their lives by the time he graduated university—they fell well within the average time. He was jealous, simply put. How could he not be?

“Oh, Harry,” Sarah cooed, kissing his cheek, wrapping her arm around his shoulders as he scrolled through options on his phone. She met Mitch when she was a child—the tattoos and color changing appearing instantaneously. It was extremely rare, but it was effortless: a swing and a slide. Light purple. Another match. One moment blending into the next without pause. They found each other before Harry even had a tattoo on his finger. “You’ll find her. You deserve love more than anyone I know.”

He hoped she was right because he was rapidly losing hope.

Tomorrow was his twenty-ninth birthday after all.

How can you miss someone you’ve never seen? / Oh, tell me are your eyes brown, blue, or green? / And do you like it with sugar and cream? / Or do you take it straight, oh, just like me?

Anne said the same thing as Sarah—but he thought she still had hope because she wanted her son to be happy and that’s what a mum did. She had hope even when Harry didn’t.

Harry had a soft heart. He was sensitive. He wanted to be in love more than he wanted anything else in his life. But he went through the motions. Finishing school, getting a job, and doing his best to get through each day without someone to share it with. He could feel pity oozing from every person he met, and they saw the black ink on his finger. His friends spoke in hushed whispers agreeing to any coffee shop Harry wanted to meet at each weekend.

Each night came with a fitful sleep. A different pair of colored eyes appeared in his dream of someone he didn’t know yet. There were so many dreams of meeting his favorite person. So many good ones. So many bad ones. All of which he woke up heartbroken once more, that he hadn’t met the love of his life.

He graduated with top honors because there weren’t many people in school who didn’t have the other half of their soul by their side. Especially by the end of the four years. It was hard for his friends to go out with him and watch him not find the love he was looking for. Harry wasn’t one for partying excessively—he had plenty of fun times in university with his friends at parties without his other half, that wasn’t something he regretted. But by the time graduation rolled around, the parties got further and few between. His friends didn’t need to go out the way he did. They didn’t have to search anymore.

Harry lost the most hope during his third year. He tried dating people he met at coffee shops and cafes. Dating was a loose term. Harry’s dates with those that lost someone or those that, like him, had given up weren’t all that fruitful for either party. Call him old-fashioned, but if she was out there, he wanted to save every intimate part of himself. A sweep of the lips across a cheek, that was all he could muster. Companionship to stave off the loneliness, that was all he could manage at best. Some were blatant in showing their disappointment. But most usually understood—they’d do anything to get their other half back or to find them.

He prayed to whatever was out there that she felt the same way.

The only solace he had was knowing that maybe, just maybe, she was out there, feeling just as crummy as he was. Not that he wanted the love of his life to feel crummy. At the very least, it would be another thing to tie them together and something to discuss when he finally found her. He kept a list of things he wanted to know. Several lists.

The first list was filled with superficial things—favorites mostly: color, food, movie, etc. Outward things that he wanted to know but really, they were things that anyone who knew the most basic information about her may know. The next list was slightly deeper; things that people only closest to her may know. Things that made her tick. What were her political views? Did she have a good home life? Was she a summer or a winter kind of person? How did she take her coffee--with half and half?

Is that why the coffee cup was there? Did she even like coffee? Has it been a teacup all this time?

The final list was deeper, intimate, things that he wouldn’t anyone to know about himself (or her, if he was honest) except maybe a therapist. Did she suffer her first heartbreak despite knowing she had a soulmate out there? Did she believe in an afterlife or reincarnation? Did she have any regrets or suffer ever?

Had she waited like Harry did?

Part of him hated the idea that she may not have felt the same way regarding intimacy. Maybe she gave that part of her to someone else. Someone she had met at a coffee shop and maybe she thought the tattoo changed color. Sometimes Harry thought his tattoo had changed. He believed it so vehemently. The shade of black looked gray-er one day. Another day it looked sort of navy-blue.

It was wishful thinking because even if it did, he never found who was supposed to be his other half at the time.

But he also believed that even if she did have a difference of opinion on intimacy, he would trust her judgment implicitly. She believed she was doing the right thing at the time and that was enough for Harry.

He woke up on his twenty-ninth birthday the same way he had for the last thirteen years—without a soulmate and a heavy heart.

Cause lately it’s been hard / They’re selling me for parts / And I don’t wanna be modern art

Harry started therapy when he turned twenty-seven. He was feeling very low without anyone to come home to. His therapist was helpful and extremely kind. But Harry could tell by the pink coloring on his ring finger that he had already met his other half. While his directions and ideas to help Harry cope with the grief of not knowing, it wasn’t something he could fully empathize with. Harry fully believed that. It wasn’t his therapist’s fault either—how could Harry blame him for finding his soulmate?

His therapist recommended websites with more successful ratings. His office even had a program that Harry would be perfect for. In fact, if he was interested in it enough, he would be a great candidate to speak to others in similar situations. There was a chance for Harry’s picture to be on a pamphlet to help others like him. He could tell his therapist was excited about the prospect of helping others like Harry. But it would only be another reminder to Harry that he was alone.

Harry found himself balling his hands into fists to keep from screaming.

*

His friends asked if he wanted to do anything for his birthday. For the last seven years they had done a coffee crawl in hopes of Harry finding someone that changed his tattoo for good. But this year Harry wanted to be alone.

“Are you sure?” Mitch asked in disbelief. He could hear the alarm in his voice. He could hear the covered whispers from Sarah behind the scenes. He nodded and Mitch was silent waiting for Harry to say something. But he didn’t speak for a full three minutes. When he did, Mitch wasn’t oblivious to the sniffle he heard and the way Harry’s voice broke.

“M’jus...” he shook his head. “S’fine,” he shrugged and swallowed all the emotions. He looked at that horrible, ugly, little mocking coffee cup. “Jus’...tired,” he told his friend.

“Yeah...sure...,” Mitch nodded. “Let me know if you need something, Harry. Happy birthday.”

It just didn’t feel happy.

Harry spent his birthday sulking in his apartment. He called out sick for three days of work so he could lie in bed, mourning the loss of someone he didn’t even know. On that third day he scheduled an impromptu therapy appointment begging the man to just do something to end Harry’s suffering. He wanted to be in love...he wanted to be loved.

But his therapist could only do so much. It was one big waiting game. One big, cruel terrible game.

*

“Uh...hi...m’name’s Harry,” Harry said into the microphone. He placed the guitar on his knee and brought the microphone closer to his lips. “M’therapist...suggested I sing when m’feeling down; s’been a while since I sang in front of a crowd,” he explained to the quiet group. “A way t’cope. Uh...in case it wasn’t obvious, I haven’t...met m’other half,” he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Been waiting thirteen years and four days.”

A few people had their attention focused on Harry. There were a few quiet interjections of ‘aw.’ A couple gasps of shock. There was one quiet happy birthday toward the front. Harry tuned his guitar for a moment. “I didn’t write this,” he smiled wryly. “But I believe every word of it,” he nodded in affirmation and swallowed. “How can you miss someone you’ve never met?” He began.

As he sang, he focused on the playing and singing the right words. He barely looked at the little crowd of the quiet, late-night cafe. He didn’t tell his friends about this. It was for him only. His next method of coping. When he finished the song there was a smattering of applause and he nodded gratefully, shoving his guitar in its case, before rushing outside. He took heaving breaths, the air from his lips accumulating into a cloud in the space in front of him.

That did not feel cathartic the way his therapist said it would. It was overwhelming and Harry actually thought it was one of the worst things he ever did. He felt like puking and began pacing away from the café stopping a few meters further up the sidewalk trying to console himself and his feelings.

“Excuse me?” Harry’s heart almost burst at the sound of her voice. He turned to the person hurrying up the path to him. His heart leapt but he kept his fingers pressed into the palms of his hand. He was going to leave imprints from his nails pressing into the skin.

She had a scarf draped around her neck and a pair of gloves, no coat. “I didn’t want to miss you! Harry, right?” she asked, shivering against the chilly February air pausing beside him as he looked back at the road in front of them. He gave a half nod. “That was beautiful,” she sounded like a song herself. But Harry had thought he met his soulmate before, he knew better than to get attached to just the sound of someone’s voice. There was one person he met ages ago—he couldn’t even remember what year it was that he was so sure was his soulmate. But when he looked, her tattoo was sky blue...and Harry’s remained black.

Harry also taken many science classes and knew the earth was tilted on its axis. But he was certain it had inexplicably turned upside down the moment he heard her voice.

He was still fearful it was too good to be true.

 He didn’t dare look at his finger.

“I saw you rushing out here—boy, it’s really cold! I...I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she explained as she tilted her chin down to hide below her scarf. If Harry was smart, he would ask to go back inside so she wouldn’t freeze to death. It wasn’t his fault he was a sad, broken man.

Instead, he was speechless, waiting for the inevitable. For her to ask to see his tattoo. He pressed his fingers harder against his own hand. Instead, she bit her lip, her nose turning pink in the frosty temperature. “I brought you some hot chocolate,” she told him. Harry took this moment to realize between her gloved hands she held a coffee cup—or rather, a cup of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate. The same kind of cup that he knew was outlined on his finger. He didn’t take the drink from her. He couldn’t. Even if he wanted to, he was frozen in place.

Instead, he managed to turn his attention to her eyes for the first time. They were so gentle, so kind. There was understanding etched all over her face. Harry just laid it out to a whole group of strangers the hurt he was feeling. He knew she knew. She didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t talking. So, she continued. “My tattoo is a guitar...and you were the only person in there with a guitar...so...it’s,” she smiled and shook her head. Like it was an inside joke between them already. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “It’s gold now, this like beautiful, shimmering gold...I didn’t even want to cover it because I want to look at it all the time—and it’s only been about ten minutes like this but—God, it’s so cold out!—but I didn’t want...couldn’t miss you so I didn’t wear a coat—can I see your tattoo?” She rushed, still shivering. The poor girl.

Harry felt lightheaded. She was right here. A guitar. A cup of hot chocolate. It had to be.

Right?

Harry shook his head. “N-no,” he mumbled. The rejection broke her gentle, beautiful features. The poor thing.  Why would he say that?! “M’scared,” he admitted.

She swallowed nervously. Her expression was a little more guarded than when she first stood next to him, but less broken than when Harry outright said no. “I just moved here,” she nodded—complete understanding back on her face. Her teeth were chattering. Harry was horrible to make her suffer like this. “I’ve been looking at this goddamn guitar for eleven years and you should know, I have no musical talents whatsoever. I took so many music classes in high school. I attended every band concert at my college. I haunted my local music store. I—” her voice cracked, and Harry heard the desperation that he had felt for so many years. It ached him to know she felt the same way. Worse than his own pain. He wanted to yank her heart out of her and cradle it, hold it and nurse it back to health. He’d give her the shattered half of what was left of his own heart if that would make her pain go away. She looked at the cup between her hands, tears lining her lashes so beautifully Harry was really starting to believe it was her.

“Baby, I threw a dart at a map,” she whispered. “I couldn’t take it, Harry. I applied for the first job I could find that used my degree in this town. I found an apartment. I packed up and left everyone and everything I ever knew to find my soulmate,” she sniffed. There were no fallen tears, but Harry thought she probably had cried plenty. Harry certainly had. “Everyone I know, thinks I’m crazy,” he knew that feeling very well. “I took the very first flight out possible. So, I’ve been stuck in my old time zone I won’t sleep until tomorrow afternoon. I was tired of unpacking. Tired of being hopeful and I just wanted to get some hot chocolate because it’s so cold, you know? So I went to this café that I Googled—it’s the only place open at eleven at night,” but Harry already knew that. She brought a gloved hand to her lips. Lips that Harry really wanted to kiss. “I know you have two years of waiting on me. I’m sorry about that—I didn’t know we weren’t in the same place, honey. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Like it was her fault. Harry felt so broken that she was taking the blame for it all, but he couldn’t get his vocal cords to work. It wasn’t her fault. These things happened. It just sucked. It sucked the life out of Harry for thirteen years, but Harry remembered eleven years without her just as well. It’s when he started therapy after all. She had suffered too. “Please,” her voice cracked again. “I need to see your tattoo,” she begged.

It was so quiet on that cold street. His chest hurt; his throat ached. It felt like he was trapped in the smallest of rooms, the walls closing on him and pressing him into a cube of pain. He held out his left hand. She rolled her lips into her mouth. Her shoulders were heaving with the greatest weight she had ever carried. Harry wished he could be braver and help her out, but he was so terrified she was wrong. This was the closest break in his search he had ever had and if she was wrong, he thought it would kill him, surely.

She switched the coffee cup to her right hand. With her free one, she slid her gloved index finger over his bare digit. She released a breathy, watery giggle. Another inside joke between the two of them. “Don’t suppose it’s always been gold?” She asked.

Harry knew when his therapist asked what it felt like when he finally met her, he would never be able to describe the moment accurately. He tried to take it all in. The sounds, the smells, the feelings. His eyes were blurred with relieved tears so he couldn’t take in what he saw but he finally looked down at that beautiful tattoo of his. An iridescent, glittering gold. With her teeth she pulled her glove off her hand—his poor love had to be freezing but she didn’t stop—showing Harry how her little guitar outline matched the color of his cup perfectly, sliding her ring finger against his making the first brush of her skin against his the most magical feeling he had ever felt.

So, this is what it felt like to be whole.

In the same moment, she dropped the mug. It shattered to pieces on the cold sidewalk, stained her pale colored shoes in chocolate liquid and soaked her discarded glove. But Harry didn’t even have a second to react to it because her arms were around his neck. Her face was buried in his shoulder. “I thought it was a coffee cup,” he croaked, wrapping his arms around her middle. She giggled some more. It might be his new favorite sound. He pulled her close, feeling the shards of the mug crunching below their shoes. They stayed like that, Harry’s heart thrumming against his ribs, positively ready to jump into her chest to be a whole heart, finally. He squeezed her, crushed him to her, terrified to let her go. He would need a new therapist to cope with this kind of anxiety.

He pushed her back from him and he brought his hands to her cheeks, trying to take in every inch of the beautiful face he longed to see, touch, and feel every night he slept. He never wanted to stop looking at her. He was scared to let go of her for even a second.

Maybe he didn’t need to explain it to his therapist. This moment would just be theirs. A cold street, a broken mug, and two halves of one soul finally found.

He pressed his lips to her forehead then each eyelid, her nose, her cheeks. He tried to kiss every pore on her skin. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” he admitted. Her heart fluttered. “I know s’pathetic,” his lips never stopped the kisses to her face. His voice muffled by her skin. He pressed his lips again and again to the same spaces. It warmed her, he could tell. Her cheeks turned a deep red, but it wasn’t due to the cold.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, and he watched as the tears dripped down her cheeks. Harry had the fleeting thought that meant she hadn’t waited and now that she was finally here, he knew it really didn’t matter. “You really are my soulmate,” she whispered, which proved of course she waited—she was all his.

Harry ran his thumb along her lip and sank his mouth to touch hers. He moaned at the feeling, the warmth, the electricity that ran through her and into him. A completed circuit. Whole. She whimpered again, kissing him back and wrapped her arms around his neck again. He squeezed her close, her toes lifting off the ground.

“Can I take y’home with me, angel?” He begrudgingly pulled away. She quickly nodded, her heart fluttering at the word angel. He didn’t even mean to call her that, it rolled effortlessly off his tongue. “I have...so many questions t’ask you.”

“Please,” she nodded eagerly.

Harry held her left hand because it was without a glove. She was also still without a coat—abandoned in the late-night cafe, but they marched on anyway.

*

But I only got half a heart to give to you. / And I hope it’s enough.

Harry gave her his heaviest sweatshirt and made more tea so he could stay awake and keep her warm. Her jaw still chattered every so often, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Sitting on his bed. Harry had never had a girl in his bed before. He held her hand in both of his. The tea on his bedside table. He was staring at their tattoos. The pair that somehow matched after all his suffering. He thought gold was his new favorite color.

“I have lists,” he whispered. “Of things I want t’know.”

Smiling, that gorgeous smile of hers, she nodded easily. “You can ask me anything,” she promised.

Harry wondered if this was how all soulmates felt. To be heard and seen. This implicit need to be broken open and share every detail they could think of. “I don’t want t’fall sleep,” he murmured. But sleep was winning. He didn’t want it. He found her. He wanted to be awake and ask her all his questions. He wanted to memorize her skin, find every freckle. Wanted to kiss her again and again until he felt like his heart wasn’t half of a lump of muscle anymore. She deserved a whole heart.

She swallowed. “Harry, I’m going to stay,” she promised. It wasn’t distrust he felt. But it was a new ache that he wasn’t sure he could describe. Worry, maybe? That was about as close as he could get to describing it. He was afraid she was a figment, a dream. A really wonderful dream. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, it’s my favorite.”

Breakfast. One favorite down, only a thousand more to go. She gently pushed his shoulder down and she rested her ear on his chest. “Dreamed about your heartbeat,” she murmured. Harry wondered if she heard the way it skipped a beat as she spoke. He kissed the top of her head. “If I’m not right here when you wake up, I’ll be in the kitchen, alright?” He nodded. He hoped she would be here though. Waking up without her attached to him after this crazy, beautiful night might make him a little worse for wear in the morning. Would it be crazy to say he loved her? That was crazy. Whether they were soulmates or not. Despite that he did love her. “I love you,” she whispered. “Always have.”

It wasn’t crazy. Not at all. Not the way she said it. If anything, it made the most sense in the world. “I love you, too,” he felt like crying and if it wasn’t for the clock on his nightstand reading two in the morning, he might have actually cried before he fell asleep.

*

The knocking on the door woke him. So did the near shouts of his name. His love was no longer lying on top of him, but the knocking must have gotten her out of bed. It was nearly nine the next morning, the sun poking through the blinds. It was warm, his bed smelled like her.

He heard his door creak. The gasps. “Who are you?” He heard Sarah ask.

She giggled. “I’m the coffee cup,” even the way she introduced herself was perfect. Maybe he would keep the hot chocolate detail to himself. It seemed that she was willing to do the same by not telling them it wasn’t a coffee cup all these years.

“Oh, fucking finally!” Mitch cheered.

“Princess!” Niall shouted and Harry chose that moment to enter the main room, one of his best friends lifting the sweet girl into a massive hug that made him somehow feel more whole than he ever thought he could. “We’ve been waiting forever for you,” he told her. She simply giggled more, returning his hug.

“Easy, please. I jus' got her,” Harry murmured.

Sarah, seeing Harry finally appeared, threw herself at Harry with a choked half-laugh, half-cry. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.

Niall and Mitch, being the guitar enthusiasts they were, found her little tattoo unbelievably adorable and nearly unfair they had a snake and a swing. “I quite literally had no idea how I was supposed to find a musician when I can only sing—kind of.”

The boys asked her how it happened last night. Was that why Harry didn’t answer their texts or calls? Niall said he would go back and get her things—her purse, her coat, her phone. He knew the owner and was adamant that her things would be safely in the lost and found. She didn’t even care. They asked where she was from and Harry realized how gentle and guarded her answers were—they weren’t revealing, no long explanations.

She kept glancing at Harry with a knowing smile with every question she answered. It took everything in him to not cry from the fact she was keeping her answers short because she knew Harry would want to know the answers first—would want to ask more.

Sarah was looking at her as if she put the stars in the sky—Harry only knew that look because that’s how he felt as well. “Was...was it worth all that pain?” She asked. “I can’t...I can’t imagine,” she glanced at the little slide on her finger that had been there since she was six years old. She shook her head in disbelief. Sad for Harry

But he nodded anyway. As if for thirteen years he didn’t have the most broken heart known to man. “So very much,” he affirmed giving Sarah a squeeze around the shoulders.

“I was just about to make breakfast; would you like to join us?” She asked the three of them. Harry had never been an us. It was like a magic spell. Every word from her lips was like a soothing little cleanser meant to fix all the broken parts of him.

His friends smiled and looked at Harry for confirmation. If he wanted time alone with her, they would high tail it out of there, totally understandable. Niall was already calling the café to see if he could get her things at the very least.

“Please stay, of course,” he shrugged. “We’ve got forever.” Her expression seemed to melt a little at his words. He saw the way her thumb smoothed the skin over her ring finger.

Mitch and Sarah headed to the kitchen island and took their seats, they were a flurry of calls and messages to their other friends. They wanted to spread the good news and this is what friends did for someone like Harry. He didn't need to tell everyone, he had the love of his life in his arms. Niall was headed back out the door to get her things from the café. He’d be back in fifteen minutes.

Feeling more rested than he had in years, since he dreamed about the pair of eyes that finally matched someone that he knew to be his soulmate, he didn’t feel as broken. She smiled at him, gorgeously. He didn’t think he would ever tire of this new feeling of being whole. “Y’sure y’don’t mind having them?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I love them already.”

Harry knew it would be that way but somehow it was still way too good to be true. “We have all waited a very long time for you,” he reminded her. She wrinkled her nose cutely with a little impish grin. Harry placed his hands on her hips, pulling her toward him as if he had done this every morning for his whole life. “I’ve thought about you a thousand different ways and I don’t think any of them compare t’how you actually are,” he whispered.

She pressed the length of herself against him. Arms around his neck. His arms were like a vice around her waist. Harry’s sweatpants were too long on her, and the sweatshirt was scented with her new favorite smell. The love of her life. Her other half.

“Harry, I’m afraid I only have half a heart left to give you. I was really sad there for a very long time,” she admitted quietly; maybe it wasn't the time to tell him, but she needed to say it while it was on her mind. Sarah and Mitch were fielding messages, quiet giggles and words just over their shoulders while they waited for breakfast.

“Jus’ another thing we have in common,” he mumbled into her hair unfazed by her words. “We can share the whole one we make together.”

She sighed with relief and nuzzled her face into the soft shirt he wore. “You’re everything I wanted and more.”

What more could he say? “Me too, angel. Me too.”

--

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[yomawari]

Soulmate!AU (Stills Under Cut)

#I just really like soulmate!aus #jamilton #fanart #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #soulmate!au #modern!au

[callsigncurse]

Offense & Defense - (Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Reader)

[Part Two of the Agents of Chaos series]

A beach day meant to be spent on team bonding has Maverick hot under the collar. Sure, you're his soulmate, but how the hell is he supposed to compete with Jake "Hangman" Serensin, the much younger (than him) pilot who seems to have a soft spot for you? Or, the chapter where Maverick nearly loses you for good. Warnings: Shirtless, Jealous Maverick (which is, let's be honest, is downright deadly) mentions of a bodily injury (to the reader) Disclaimer: Some of these lines (the ones marked with an asterisk) are copied directly from the movie, but I do not claim them as my own! All rights belong to Paramount Pictures and the writers. Words: 3.3K ← part one

flying idiots gc

Captain: We are meeting at the beach today. Bring water and wear your civvies. I'll provide snacks. Chaos: 🫡 Hangman: Hell yeah Rooster: 👍🏻 Bob: Ok Phoenix: Weird, but alright. Fanboy: Whatever you say, man. Coyote: you had me at snacks Payback: Let's goooo Agent: I'll bring the sunscreen 💕 Hangman: lame 👎🏻 Agent: I will kick your ass, Ken Doll Captain: I'm surrounded by idiots.

The sun is beating down on you when you step around the Hard Deck. The sand is hot to the touch, but the ocean looks cool and inviting. It's a beautiful, sunny day, and it lifts your spirits a little. It had been a rough and stressful few days.

You briefly wonder where Maverick is, looking around the beach to see if you can spot him. You haven't seen him outside of Top Gun since the night he walked away from you. You're just about to start walking further down the beach to see if you can find him when your tattoo constricts tightly around your wrist, alerting you to his presence.

He's standing not even a foot away when you turn around. His aviators are perched on his perfect face, his expression completely unreadable. He's wearing a worn black t-shirt and dark blue jeans rolled up, and he looks good. Really good. 

"Hey." He finally offers. It's the most he's said directly to you in the days after you'd first met. The fact that he's been ignoring you for over a week has a hollow feeling growing in your chest, and you merely nod in greeting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before you huff out an exasperated sound and turn away from him. It's like he's trying to pretend that nothing has ever happened between the two of you, and it hurts. He'd turned his back on your connection, running away from what could be.

"Sweetheart, please." A shiver wracked down your spine at the sound of his voice, pleading with you. You want to turn around, you want to see his eyes, and you want more than anything to love him. But he doesn't want you; he's made that perfectly clear. You weren't good enough.

"Hey, now wait, don't-"

The sound of your friends startles you, but you don't turn around. You just set up your beach chair and wait for them to settle in, too. You can hear Josh all the way in the parking lot bickering with Phoenix over something you don't quite catch.

You'd told Josh about your string appearing a few days ago, right after Maverick had left you standing on the front porch of your little bungalow. He'd fallen silent, completely in shock, but had told you that he'd keep it to himself. You weren't ready for word to get out about your soulmate, especially not wanting to explain that he was completely rejecting the bond.

Hangman reaches you first; his green eyes warm when he smiles down at you. "Hey there, pretty girl. You come here often?"

A strangled sound reaches your ears, and you turn your head to see Maverick gulping down water while Phoenix pats him on the back. He sees you watching him and waves you off. "Went down the wrong pipe; I'm good."

Bob arrives next, surrounded by Payback and Fanboy, with Rooster trailing behind him. You watch as Bob strolls over and bumps Phoenix with his shoulder to alert her to his presence. It was nice to see them getting along; most of you had gotten pretty close in the last few days.

"Alright." Maverick's voice rang out, and everyone turned to face him. "Today, we're gonna play a little game I like to call Dogfight Football. Offense and defense at the same time. Two footballs, two teams, each trying to score as many touchdowns as possible."

The team breaks out into excited chatter, already arguing over who would be on whose team for the game. You briefly wonder why he's got you guys playing games when you only have so much time to train before the mission.

Maverick must've heard your thoughts because you suddenly felt his presence in your head again. He wasn't looking at you, but he was there all the same. It felt like his hands were cupping your face, his thumb smoothing along your cheekbone, just like he had the first night.

"Trust me, you guys need this. It'll be fun, I promise."

His honeyed voice soothes the frayed nerves that have made themselves known over the last few days. You practically purr at the sound of him in your head, but you push that away as quickly as it came on.

"Whatever you say, Captain Mitchell." You respond, and you feel him flinch at the use of his official title. You slam the mental block down quickly, and he flinches again, harder this time. Only you and Hangman seem to notice the captain's strange behavior.

"You good?" Jake's voice breaks through the noise as he sidles up beside you. He throws an arm around your shoulders as he smirks. "You're looking a little jumpy there. Afraid we're gonna run you into the ground, old man?"

You can't hear him, but you can feel him. Maverick is seething, his jaw tight, while he stares at Jake through his aviators. If looks could truly kill, Hangman would've been gone and buried by now. You can't tell if you're more worried about Jake or aroused by the sight of Maverick; he's really hot when he's angry. You're not sure what he's more pissed about—the way Jake is talking to you or the way he's got an arm wrapped around you.

"We'll see." Maverick finally speaks, with a sharp bite to his voice when he answers. He's calmer now, at least, and you push your presence into his mind. Experimentally, you whisper in his head, your voice soothing.

"Relax. This is supposed to be fun, remember? Don't let him get to you."

He visibly relaxes and shoots you a grateful, beautifully crooked smile.

You were prepared for the game, but you really weren't prepared for a very sweaty, very shirtless Pete Mitchell. He'd shed his shirt halfway through the game, leaving his tanned skin glistening in the sun. Your breath had left your lungs immediately, and you were so focused on how gorgeous he was that you didn't see Fanboy running full speed in your direction.

Hangman sees it all go down and swoops in as quickly as he can. He's fast on his feet and has you up in his arms just a split second before Fanboy was about to crash into you. You're breathless, looking up into those impossibly green eyes with a dazed look on your face.

"Hey, pretty girl." He greets you, a smile flashing over his lips as he adjusts you in his arms. Yours are slung around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, and you wonder what it would be like to just lean in and kiss Jake Seresin. At least he acted like he wanted you, even if he was a little bit of a player. (Or, so the rumors said.)

"Hey." You answer, one hand gliding gently through the soft, golden hair at the nape of his neck. "Thanks for saving me back there; I thought for sure I was gonna be a goner. Fanboy is heavier than he looks."

That draws a laugh out of him, and you're a little too into the way the sunlight gleams off of his golden hair and tanned skin. "You got it, doll." And then he's setting you down gently on the sand, but he doesn't move away.

"Seriously?"

You jolt, and Hangman looks at you with disappointment in his eyes when he sees the flash of your soulmate string against your skin. "Ah, shit. Did I overstep?"

"Tell him to let go of you. Please."

His voice is a low growl in your head. You're not sure where Maverick even is, but you're sure he's somewhere behind you. You can feel his eyes boring into your skin as you look up at Jake, your face burning with embarrassment. "I'm not sure why he's even mad; he's made it clear he doesn't want to be with me."

"Chaos."

"It's Maverick, isn't it?" He murmurs, still looking down at you with a look of disappointment. "He's giving me a look that's actually a little terrifying right now." He admits, and his hands slip off of your skin and into the pockets of his swim shorts.

You sigh. "Yeah, it is. Just don't tell anyone, okay? He already made it perfectly clear that I'm not what he wants, so it doesn't matter, anyway." You can hear the sadness in your own voice, and Jake just sighs.

"I'll keep your secret. Scout's honor. And he'll come around, pretty girl." He sets a hand on your shoulder, yanking you into him so he can give you a hug. "But if he doesn't, you're totally welcome to give me a call anytime."

You hear Maverick's frustrated growl in your head again, but this time you just shut him out.

By the next day, you're still angry with Maverick. This game of hot and cold with him is getting old, quickly. You couldn't even hang out with Jake without your soulmate (the one who was constantly saying he didn't want a relationship with you!) getting jealous and getting all growl-y in your ear.

Things are tense; no one has yet to complete the mission. Either Rooster was going too slow and holding you up, or Hangman was going too fast and fucking up the rest of his teammates. You were ready to strangle both of them, even if you loved them both.

"Agent, do you have a lock on the target?"

"Negative, this laser is bugging the fuck out. I've got dead-eye." 

You curse out loud, and then your soulmate, the one who has done nothing but piss you off for two days, 'shoots' you down. The fucker even tells you across the radio that you're dead.

*"Coyote, we're out. Maverick got us." You tell him, not even trying to hide how utterly annoyed you are at the captain. Sure, he's just training you to make sure you cover all possibilities, but still.

*"That's a fail, Coyote. Return to base." Maverick repeats, but Coyote's plane is rising even further into the sky. He's not saying anything in the comms and you're getting a little worried now.

*"Coyote? Level wings." Maverick orders over the comms, a panicked edge creeping into his voice. You're watching with bated breath as Coyote's plane starts to nose dive, and then he's free falling through the air.

"Mav, he's in G-Lock. You gotta get tone on him!" Your heartbeat is slamming against your chest, watching your friend's plane start to plummet straight toward the Earth. You knew if he didn't wake up, he was going to die as you watched, helpless.

Maverick's plane goes screaming towards him and you can hear him yelling Coyote's call sign over the comms. After what seems like a lifetime, at the last possible second, Coyote's plane levels out and he starts climbing back into the sky. You can't help but laugh, relieved to see that your friend was alright.

"I'm alright, I'm good." You can hear Coyote now, and you breathe out a long sigh of relief. That had been way too close for comfort, and your heart was still hammering in your chest.

"Good job, Mav." Your plane levels out next to his, giving him a thumbs up so he can see it.

"You did good, Chaos. The tone idea was brilliant."

There's maybe a moment more of calm before the next round of chaos begins. 

"Bird strike!"

*"Shit, Chaos. Climb!" The left engine is out, and you pull hard on your stick to climb higher into the sky. Agent's voice is panicked when he follows up with, "Left engine is on fire!"

*"Throttling back. Shutting off fuel. Extinguishing fire." You rattle off what you're doing, flipping switches and pushing buttons on autopilot. This is what you've trained for, you tell yourself. Stay calm, and everything will be fine.

*"We’re losing the right engine." Agent's sounding a little more panicked, and you take a deep breath. 

*"It’s still spinning. I’m gonna try to restart it." You flip the APU switch and push the right throttle forward. "APU on. Throttle up. Shit, nothing's happening." Okay, now you're starting to panic. It would really fucking suck if you had to bail out.

*"The right engine is out!" Agent says, and yeah, he's full on panicking now. "Chaos, I think this is it; I've got every warning light lit up back here." 

*"We lost hydraulics; I can't control it!" The stick is useless in your hands, and you're starting to lose complete control. You're spinning out, and yeah, this is really not good.

*"Eject! Eject!" Maverick is practically screaming over the radio, "Chaos, Agent, eject now!"

You grab the handle and pull, and you watch as the canopy flies off your plane backwards. You're launched into the air, and there's only a split second before you see Agent do the same.

It's almost peaceful, floating down with a parachute. But then the plane crashes into the mountainside and something metallic shoots toward you, and the last thing you remember is thinking, "Ow, that hurt." 

The next time you wake up, you know you're in a hospital. The room is stark white; there's a heart monitor next to you and an IV attached to your arm. By the look of the clock on the wall, you know it's well past midnight. You wonder if Agent is here too, and if he managed to land okay.

The next thing you notice is the feeling of someone holding your hand. You turn your head, and you are absolutely flabbergasted to find Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, asleep in a chair that's been pulled up to your bedside, holding your hand.

You shift slightly, moving towards him, and you notice that his normally tan face looks pale. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and his face looks swollen, like he's been crying. "Maverick?"

He twitches, but his eyes stay closed and his hand stays wrapped around yours. One more urgent whisper of his name, and those intense blue eyes of his slam open, and he looks at you like he's seen a ghost. "Oh, thank God." He leans forward, pressing his cheek against your joined hands, and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"What's going on?" Not that you mind that he's touching you or even that he's here, but you're beyond confused.

"Bird strike, you had to eject." He looks back at you, his other hand coming out to cup your hand in both of his. "Shrapnel came flying from your plane and hit you as you were coming down. Smacked you right in the chest. You were bleeding out pretty badly when they found you; you had landed hard and hit your head, too."

"Oh." You frown, reaching up with your free hand to touch the edges of the bandages on your chest. Now that he mentions it, it's throbbing uncomfortably. "What about Josh? Is he okay? How long was I out?"

"Agent is fine; he was treated for some light scrapes and bruising and released the next day. You've been asleep for three days. I've, uh, been here every night with you." He admits, and his eyes are still trained on your face. It's almost like he can't believe that you're awake and that you're okay.

"Shit, I've missed that much?" You struggle to sit up, but Maverick stands and gently pushes you back down onto the hospital bed. "Mav, c'mon, I gotta get out of here."

"No, you don't. Simpson has already released you from the mission." He tells you quietly, and your throat constricts. A chance of a lifetime mission, and you were completely out of commission. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you were hurt. You need to rest and heal."

You let out a wounded sound, angry at yourself for being in this position. Your plane was gone; you'd put Agent in danger, and now you were going to miss out on this special assignment. Things couldn't possibly get any worse than they are right now.

"Why are you even here?" That's the question that's nagging at you the most, and in your still-exhausted mind, you deserve an answer. "I didn't know you cared that much."

He looks taken aback, but his hands refuse to let go of yours. His eyes are trained on your face, and to your amazement, they're slowly filling up with tears. His lower lip was swollen from being constantly worried between his teeth, and in this moment, he looks almost delicate. Like he's about to break.

"I almost lost you," he whispers, and he sounds devastated. "I haven't even given us a fighting chance, and I almost lost you."

You turn as much as you can, staring at his face with wide eyes. The strongest man you'd ever met was breaking apart before your eyes, and you almost couldn't believe it. Did he really care that much?

"Of course I do." He swipes a hand at his eyes, catching the tears that had started to slip down his face. "I've never not cared. I'm just... Sweetheart, I'm no good at this. I've never been able to keep down a relationship; I have no kids of my own, and my only godson hates me."

You shift in your bed, moving as much to the side as you can before you pat the space beside you. "Lie down, Mav. You're exhausted; how long has it been since you slept?"

He looks like he's not going to do it for a split second, and then he seems to change his mind. He kicks off his boots and carefully climbs in, sliding his arm under you so you can lie on his chest. You're careful not to jostle yourself as you settle down.

"I care about you too, Mav." You tell him, your hand gently drawing patterns over his chest. "I knew the moment I first saw you that you would be everything to me, you know? And you denying us just... well, it hurt. I guess that's why I was letting Jake hit on me at the beach."

He makes a sound in his chest, and you can't help the exhausted giggle that slips out. "Easy, Pete. He's a great friend, and it won't happen again. Not unless you let me go for good."

"I won't." He answers without hesitation, and you tip your head back so you can see his face better. "I think this week has taught me that I care more about you than I thought. When I'm not training everyone, I'm here. I caused quite a stir the other night when they tried to get me to leave. Iceman had to call and make sure I got special clearance to stay with you at night."

Your heart thumps in your chest. "Hey, Pete?"

"Yeah?" He peeks down at you, his dark eyes studying you with that same intensity that always took your breath away.

"I really like you. And when I can get up and brush my teeth, I'm going to kiss you." Maybe it's the exhaustion you're feeling that's making you so bold, or maybe you're just drunk on the overwhelming affection you feel for him. "Because I really, really want to kiss you."

He stares at you for a solid moment, and then he carefully shuffles you so that he can lean down and press a sweet kiss to your forehead. And then he leaves one on your nose, and both of your cheeks. His lips graze yours, so softly that you can barely feel it. Regardless, your body lights up for him, and you meet his kiss with sweet affection.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." He murmurs, brushing one last kiss against your lips. "I'll probably be gone when you wake up, but I'll be back before nightfall. I promise."

When you wake up the next morning, your bed is still warm from his body heat, and he's left a flower and a note for you where he'd been sleeping.

I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too much.

Love,

Mav.

#pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #top gun fanfiction #soulmate!au #chaos!reader

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Spring, 2020 - San Diego, California

Chapter 7 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: After your inquiry, you've been feeling oddly adrift. It feels weird, being back in your house, in your life like you belong in it. Things feel different. A chance encounter with your soulmate on the beach has you falling into something which seems incredibly close to love.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3880

A/N: You all remember how I teased you with slow burn a year ago, right? We're finally starting to feel the burn now. I know it's taken me nearly a year to get here, but now is when we're going to have some sweet fluff for Tink and Rooster!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

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Tinkerbell

You’ve found yourself retreating to the ocean more often since the day of the inquiry. The crashing waves help you process everything that has happened over the past few months. You've been struck with so much pain, sorrow, and guilt; at times, it feels like you were barely living at all. You’re not sure if you actually lived through those horrible months or if a robot took control of your body. Some of the same feelings came back to you when you walked into your hangar on base the day after the trial.

The work is the same. Your team is the same. Yet, you can’t help feeling like everything has inexplicably changed. Your team has flourished under Commander Greyson's steady, quiet leadership. In your darkest moments, you wonder if they wouldn't be better off without you at the helm. You can't deny that Commander Greyson is brilliant at what he does. There would be so much your team can learn from him - so much you can learn from him. Even the drone project for Admiral Cain is completed with so much detail it makes your head spin. It feels odd, being back on the North Island Naval Base as notorious as you are. It leaves you with a prickling, itching sensation of being seen.

Jake and Javy had dogged you relentlessly that first day, spending all their time off hops draped over the worn sofa in the AMDO hangar in turn like a pair of eager, hungry, sweet Dobermans. They never hesitated to growl at the gossip floating around, even before your inquiry. But you chased them away after the first day, knowing you needed to stand by yourself. Being back home, in your actual house, helps too. The familiar sights and smells wrap you in a warm hug. So does being able to tinker with your cars and motorcycles.

But what you've missed the most when staying with Jake and Javy was having the sea nearby. The crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sand is rough under your feet. Every night, you had taken to languidly strolling at the tide line, relishing in the prickle of small seashells against the pads of your feet in the wet sand. The rush of water soothes the roar of your thoughts and grounds you. If only it could soothe your unconscious mind as well as the sea soothes your conscious thoughts. 

Of course, nothing can soothe your thoughts, not even the rush of the ocean in the distance as Bradley opens the passenger side door for you in front of a gorgeous off-white stucco house. The long, shaded drive is packed with cars, and you can feel your nerves with every footstep you take. You willingly take hold of a couple of the many tote bags full of alcohol Penny had given Bradley because you may not be sure what you’re doing here. You're still not sure why you accepted his invitation to celebrate his dad. Still, at least you can cart alcohol into the colossal house.

When the door opens, it's to a wall of pure sound. You're shell-shocked by it but more so by the slight man with dark hair and green eyes standing at the threshold.

“A-admiral Mitchell!” With your arms encumbered by the bags, you can’t salute, though a part of you wishes you could.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander.” His grin is mischievous, and his voice is sardonic. “Come on in. I'm glad Bradley finally got off of his ass and invited you out to meet us.”

Your smile is nearly a grimace as you follow Admiral Mitchell into the kitchen and set the bags down on one of the counters. You turn and brush invisible dust off of your fingers. Admiral Mitchell's looking at you with a knowing smile on his face.

“I guess he didn't tell you he was bringing you here?”

You shake your head and let him take the bags out of your hands. “Well, you’re always welcome, kid. And please. Call me, Mav.”

The door swings open again, and this time, you’re hit with a waft of that sandalwood scent that you’re quickly coming to adore. It's Bradley, and you're not sure why, but he's easily holding all of the other bags, bulging with bottles of alcohol in his brawny arms.

“Hey, Baby Goose!” You grin at the naked affection in the other man’s words. “It took you long enough to get Tinkerbell to come here.”

“But, kiddo, you could’ve at least warned her what she was walking into!” 

Maverick Mitchell looks like he’s practically leaping for joy. You have to stifle your snicker as a blush crawls its way up Bradley’s neck.

“It was a spontaneous invitation, Dad.” Now, the endearment has you looking wide-eyed at Bradley.

“Go on, get all the drinks in the kitchen. Ice is out in the backyard, manning the grill. All of the others are out there, too. Grab whatever you’d like for yourselves, and get on out there!” Mav seems quite content to ignore the look on your face, skirting around you and Bradley in the hallway and disappearing through an arch at the end of the hallway when someone calls his name.

“Come on, Tink.” You follow his broad shoulders as he leads you through the house. The walls are covered with pictures, a lot of them depicting a tow-headed boy in various stages of growth. Of course, you realize they're Bradley when you see his graduation pictures right next to his Officer promotion pictures on the wall. When you walk through the same arch Mav disappeared through, you’re spellbound at the sight of the sun setting through the big picture windows. There are fairy lights strung through the trees and music playing. On an impromptu dance floor, you can see couples dancing.

There are a lot of people floating through the backyard. You recognize most of them from dossiers and others from reputations built on hearsay in the Navy, and all of a sudden, you're absolutely sure you shouldn't be here at all. The icing on the proverbial cake is when you see Mav kissing Iceman, yeah, that Iceman, tenderly on the lips.

“Yeah, Dad and Pops are soulmates.” You squeak just a little as those words hit.

“So you’re telling me your dad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and your Pops, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, the COMPACFLT of the US Navy, are soulmates?”

You’re sure you can be excused for your tone. This is a whopper of a secret to find out. Bradley takes one look at your face and snickers like he can’t believe the expression on his face. You poke your elbow into his side gently, trying to make him let up on his teasing. You’re not serious about it, enjoying the light air between the two of you. But when Bradley wraps his arm around your waist, you have to sigh at the warmth his arms bring you. He stops moving when he’s wrapped around you, one hand securely holding his beer, the other curled around your front like it was made to be there.

His sandalwood scent wraps you up as securely as his arms do. Standing here, seeing the sun setting behind the party happening out in the yard, it almost feels like you can do this - be soulmates with Bradley Bradshaw. Obviously, there is a lot you still need to talk to him about. But, the warmth Mav has shown you as some of Bradley’s only family goes a long way.

“It’s beautiful here,” you hum as you sip from your icy cold cider bottle, relishing in the condensation dripping onto your sun-warmed skin.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” There’s something reverent in Bradley’s voice as he looks out over the yard with its sprawling green lawn.

“I’ve always wanted to have a life like Mav and Ice’s.” He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the golden light of the setting sun like amber shot through with motes of molten gold.

“My mom and dad have a house, you know?” You gasp and slide your fingers down until they’re laced with his across your stomach.

“It’s in Virginia. They got acres of land with the property. My mom’s parents gave it to my mom and dad when they got married. I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been different if I still had them both with me.”

“They loved you, Rooster. I don’t have to have met them to know that. They would have adored seeing the man you’ve become, Bradley.”

“I know they would have, Tinkerbell. I wish I could make that house a home, is all.”

“Who is to say you still can’t?”

“Who would want to build a life with me, anyhow?” There is sorrow in his voice, the same emotion streaking across his face in a flash.

“Well, I know I would be willing to try?” You’re not sure what prompts the words to spill out of your mouth. They feel so right on your tongue. The words also leave you feeling oddly vulnerable because they’re the vocalization of a dream you’ve been carrying yourself for a very long time. Bradley’s sweet intake of breath makes something light up in your chest.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, “C’mon. Let me introduce you to everyone here. They’re the closest things to a family I’ve got. I want them to like you, but chances are, they’ll love you. They might not love me once they hear what happened, though.”

You slide your drink onto a table and slip your arms around his waist. His arms curl around you tenderly. His lips feather against the top of your head in a soft, barely there kiss.

“They’re your family, Roo. They’re going to love you no matter what.” 

He chuckles ruefully at your earnest words.

“They’re going to love you too, Tinkerbell.”

With those final words on the matter, you’re whisked out into the setting sun. A part of you can’t believe you’re out here rubbing elbows with US Navy elites. Every person Bradley introduces you to is another surprise. Before you can blink, you’ve chatted with Rear Admiral Kerner, who asks you to call him Slider, and laughed with Admiral Kazansky. You adore how this colossal cobbled-together family acts with each other. Every conversation is littered with inside jokes and teasing words. But more than how happy you are, it’s gratifying seeing how happy Bradley is. He seems to be in his element, laughing and reminiscing. There have been so many stories of Goose Bradshaw where you’ve seen him wiping away tears even while laughing that gloriously deep belly laugh.

People leave the party in pairs and trios, alcohol-soaked with colossal smiles curling their lips and laughter sneaking out as the ocean breeze brushes through the trees, salt-laden and wet as it smacks into your face. Before long, there are only a handful of the guests left in the garden. You’re not sure when he lit it, but Mav has started up a fire in the firepit, coals glowing red in the night air. You join the rest of the stragglers around the bonfire, settling in next to Bradley in one of the Adirondack chairs.

“So, Tinkerbell.” Your head snaps up so fast at the sound of her voice that it kind of hurts. It’s Sarah, The Iceman’s sister and Slider’s wife (how is this your life), who asks you, “How did you meet our Bradley?”

You swallow your sip of cider hurriedly - nearly choking on the fizzy liquid - caught on the spot as every face in the circle turns to you. Bradley grins as he lays an arm securely over your shoulders. That first night at The Hard Deck feels like it was a million years ago. A part of you can’t believe that it has only been a little over six months. It feels like you’re reliving that night over again when you recount it. You can taste the cocktails you’d been downing all night on your tongue. You half feel the sensations of Bradley’s hands on your skin as you recount the crush of people in the bar that night and the fear as you nearly get trampled. 

You unconsciously turn until you face Bradley, drinking in the sight of his face as he looks at you as you retell the first meeting of your fraught relationship. The electricity you’d felt that night is swarming through your veins again as you finish your retelling. You don’t mention a thing about the words you’d shared with him before leaving the Hard Deck and how you’d cried your eyes out in your bed at home, jet lag and exhaustion working in concert to make the words hit harder than they ever should have.

“That’s such a sweet story!” Sarah has a dreamy look on her face as she reaches for Slider’s hands with her own. They look so happy with each other, true soulmates if you’ve ever seen them. But you’re not one to ask. Since you were a little girl, you’ve had it drilled into your head to never ask someone what their soulmate marks are or even if their partner is their soulmate. It’s considered incredibly rude to do so when you’re not immediate family members or intimate friends. There are still people who do it, but they are rare and mostly do it to be rude. “I’m sure the two of you are going to be very happy together.”

You smile a little stiltedly, not sure how to answer that because while things are good between you and Bradley right now, far better than that first night anyhow, they’re far from where you could believe you’ve reached your happily ever after. Bradley seems just as discomfited as you are by his aunt’s well-meaning words. He joins the next conversation topic with aplomb, energy radiating out with him until it seems like everyone is wrapped up in the fun as the music plays low and quiet out of the speaker system. A few minutes later, he tugs you up out of your Adirondack and pulls you down towards the bottom of the garden.

“They love you, sweetheart.” You grin, wild and unabashed, as his words make you light up. Your heart is soaring, but your brain’s still unsure of this sudden need to have him at arm's reach, always touching you, always close. It feels too easy after all the pain you’ve been through.

“I’m glad, Bradley.”

“You don’t sound glad, Tink.” You’ve been trying to keep your emotions from your face, and now, more than ever, you’re sure you haven’t succeeded.  The bond between the two of you must be acting up as well because Bradley’s got this knowing look on his face. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the thought.

“I am.” He snorts and slides his Hawaiian shirt across your shoulders. It leaves him in just a white singlet. The top clings to his muscles and almost shines under the golden lights. Unbidden, the words spill out of you. 

“I promise I am, Bradley. It doesn’t feel like I deserve this, you know? Being this close to you? Seeing you happy.”

“So what do you want to do?” You fall in love the moment those words leave your soulmate’s mouth. There are no half-hidden attempts to over-explain what you’re feeling or urges to comfort you for something that isn’t a physical struggle. “How can I make it better?”

You shrug, burrowing into the thin fabric of the shirt as the cool ocean breeze wafts across the backyard.

“Would it be weird if we took things kind of slow for the next while?”

“How slow are you thinking?”

“Not too slow.” You’re quick to reassure your soulmate as you wrap an arm around his waist. Even now, there’s an ache burrowing under your skin at not feeling him pressed up against you. “I think we should date each other and get to actually know one another.”

When he doesn’t say anything for several long moments, you start to worry. It has you babbling, “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

His hands gently slide over your cheeks and tip your face up until you can see the soft look in Bradley’s whiskey eyes. 

“It sounds like a good idea.” He chuckles as his lips press against your forehead. “We’ve moved in extremes since we’ve met. We need to get to know each other, care about each other, more than just the feeling of this bond linking us together.”

You feel like you can barely breathe at the look in your soulmate's eyes as he leans in close enough that you can feel his mustache on your lips.

“What do you say about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

You hum in thought, aching to press your lips to his. His body is a line of heat pressed up against yours, and you want more.

“I’d love to.”

His exhale of joy brushes damply across your lips, and at that moment, you can’t resist pressing upwards. His lips are petal soft and gentle as they slide over yours. It’s a sensation in direct counterpoint to the rough bristles of his mustache. Your arms slide around his thick neck, fingers catching at the furrowed scars on the smooth skin. Bradley’s breath catches as you trace lightly across the slightly raised skin. If he’s this responsive to your touch, what would he do if you were tracing your lips and tongue down his throat?

When he pulls away, you whimper, actually honest-to-god whimper, at the feeling of his skin leaving yours.

“Slow, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he pulls away, a tender smile curving his lips. “We said we’d go slow, right?”

“Fine,” you huff, licking your lips in a futile urge to taste more of your soulmate on your skin. If it’s any consolation, Bradley seems to be just as affected by that slow, languid, blood-boilingly hot kiss as you are.

“Tell me more about your dads.” It’s a plea closer to a demand than it should be. But you have to control yourself. If you look at him any longer, you’ll jump him. You can’t do that to him, not when you’ve just decided to go slow.

“What about them?”

You grin. “How’d they meet?”

“At Top Gun.” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. “When Goose and Mav came to North Island in ‘86, one of their first stops was the O-Club. It was one of the only places catering to mostly Navy personnel and was quite famous. That’s where they ran into Uncle Ron and Pops.”

“Did they like each other at first sight?”

“I don’t think so, sweets.” You chuckle and shiver as another breeze makes the lights sway over your heads.

“Were they better or worse than we were when we met?”

Bradley grins and opens his arms to you. You melt into his arms and sigh in pleasure at the warmth of him in your arms. His voice rumbles comfortingly in his chest as he continues, “I think they were worse, sweets. Much worse.” 

He sounds sardonic and sarcastic, something drier than the desert in his tone.

“So you’re telling me there is worse than calling me “a little thing who just got her position in the Navy on her knees”?” Your tone doesn’t hold any heat because you know while he said something first, you continued it. You’ve definitely given as good as he dished out.

“Shit.” 

You giggle at his hushed exhale because as angry and hurt as you were when you heard him say those words, you’ve forgiven him long ago.

“That was a bad night for me, Tink.” He pulls his hands away from you only to tangle them into his curls as anguish and shame twist his features. Half hidden against his chest, you tug him in closer, soothing his pain with your presence as much as you can.

“You have no idea what you looked like that night, did you? Fuck, you looked so beautiful, it took my breath away. I was hanging on to your every word. From the first thing you said to me, I was seconds away from ripping that little sundress off. All I wanted was to lay you out on my bed and never let you go.”

When you inhale, it feels like the ocean-laden breeze burns. If he felt like this on that first day, how come he didn’t act on his feelings? 

“Then that fight broke out. All I wanted to do then was protect you. So I grabbed your waist and got you to that bar stool, holding you there with my back to that room so nobody could hurt you. It would’ve been too soon to kiss you then, no matter how much I wanted to, with the heat of your skin imprinted on my fingertips. Too much, too soon. So, after the fight was broken up, I grabbed my drink and tried to look nonchalant. At least, I did until I heard Hangman calling for you. He sounded so worried like he cared so much for you. I assumed then and there, he was your soulmate. So I backed off.”

“I was in a completely shitty mood the rest of the night. I’d never been so close to someone who I thought could be mine. I wanted you, only you. But I managed to convince myself that you weren’t mine, that you would never be mine. I got drunk. So drunk I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. I let my anger fester, and when it boiled to a fever pitch, I spat those words out when I saw you walk by, at a volume at which I knew you could hear.”

“I’m sorry, Tink.” Bradley’s voice is a growl, a pained one, as he apologizes to you again. “I’d understand if you couldn’t forgive me.”

There’s so much pain on his face you can’t help reaching up until you’re cupping his face in your hands.

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

It feels like an absolution saying those words into the night air. The disbelief on his face cements your decision even more. You forgive Bradley Bradshaw for all of his past sins, and you hope someday he can forgive all of yours, too. You press a kiss to his upturned jaw just because you can.

“There will never be anything but forgiveness between us, darling.”

“But how?” His voice is disbelieving. “How can we get past this?”

“The way we always have been meant to. Together.” Your eyes are soft as you tug on his hands until they wrap around you again. “And maybe, Roo, you should open that mouth and ask me if Jake Seresin is my soulmate next time.”

When he starts to snicker, you laugh, too. He pulls you in closer until he can press his lips to your forehead. You have many questions about your soulmate. For now, standing here at the bottom of the garden at his parent’s house is enough. You have the rest of your life in which to chat with Bradley. It’s a chance you’re not going to give up.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #you are my soulmate #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #soulmate!au #miscommunication

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky smut #Honey Girl #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes angst #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dad's best friend bucky barnes #soulmate au #soulmate!au #soulmate!bucky barnes #soulmate!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky barnes

[nickfowlerrr]

Valentine's day prompt <3

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup

bucky (any version you want) x plus size reader 🙏

never saw you comin'

pairing: bucky barnes x plus size!reader

warnings: kind of hinting at a soulmate au but not fully - i wasn't sure i wanted to commit to it lol. fluff. not really much else.

words: 1.7k

notes: thank you for sending this in!! happy valentine's day! hope you like it. <3 thank you in advance for reading. as always, feedback and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"Hey, good to see you!" The familiar faced barista greeted as you walked up to the counter. You heard the chime of the entrance as someone else walked into the small cafe, coming to stand behind you as they waited their turn.

"Hey, good morning," you smiled. You looked up to her face to see her eyes set on whoever it was behind you. She looked a bit stunned until she blinked. Once, twice, and then her eyes were back to you as she tittered to herself. You were tempted to look behind you but that would be too obvious, so you decided to just pretend you hadn't seen her unusual change in demeanor.

"The usual or were you wanting something different today?" she asked, now very clearly trying to not look back up at you or the person stood behind you. Was it a celebrity? Maybe just someone she knew? Curiosity was gnawing at you but you keep your eyes forward. "Oh and we are having a Valentine's special, buy one drink, get one free - same with our bakery items."

The reminder of the holiday you'd be spending alone yet again was a bit biting whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not, but you refused to let it show. "Oh, I uh, I'm just getting the one, so," you trailed off with a tight lipped smile.

"Sorry to interrupt," a deep voice came from behind you, causing you to turn and the barista to perk her head up ever so slightly as she looked at the man. The moment you made eye contact with him, you realized why she had been so thrown off. You were also taken aback as you realized that Bucky Barnes was standing directly behind you. Metal armed, one time assassin, Bucky Barnes. Avenger Bucky Barnes. Tall, blue eyed, ridiculously good looking Bucky Barnes. You were stunned for a brief second, getting lost in the seas of his eyes, a small smile twitching on his lips as he met your eye.

"Sorry, I just, I'm only ordering one drink myself, I could just place my order with you, and you get yourself a free drink," he offered.

You nodded lightly, closing your parted lips before blinking and letting a smile of your own grace your face. "That's really nice of you," you said.

"Yeah, really nice," the barista echoed with a trill. "Uh, what can I get for you?"

You stepped aside as Bucky stepped forward, giving her his order as you stood by his side. You weren't quite sure what to do now, fiddling with your hands as you looked around the empty cafe.

"That'll be just a minute," she said to both of you before turning around to get started on the drinks.

You stood there awkwardly for a second, stealing a glance in Bucky's direction before he turned completely to face you.

"Hi," he offered a little stiffly, but followed up with a charming smile you'd certainly never have expected from him, causing you to titter in response.

"Uh, hi," you breathed with a smile. It was hard to describe, to explain, but when you met his eye, it was almost impossible to look away, the glimmer in them pretty enough to gaze into for as long as he'd allow.

He nodded awkwardly as he looked down at you, lips pressed together tightly. He looked away for a second, turning to be standing side by side with you again as you sucked your lips.

"Valentine's Day," he said, casting a sideways glance down at you.

You nodded awkwardly then, "Yeah."

"You got any plans tonight?" he asked out of nowhere, earning an unintentional scoff from you. You corrected with a more pleasant laugh as you shook your head. "No, not really. Just me, some heavily discounted chocolates and maybe a movie or two before I call it a night."

"Really? No valentine?" he asked, the weight of his eyes trailing up and down your full figure sending heat to your cheeks as you pretended not to notice.

"Nope," you popped the 'p'. "Just me, myself, and I.

And what about you, super soldier? Any plans?"

He huffed a laugh at the name before shaking his head in return. "Not as of this moment, no."

Another beat of silence grew between the two of you. There seemed to be an odd familiarity you couldn't account for, a comfortability between you despite being complete strangers to one another. There was a buzzing in your belly, a weird kind of thrill, excitement following through you, but you weren't sure why... And did you just casually call this man 'super soldier' like it was a nickname and you were good old friends? Why the hell had you done that? You let out a stilted laugh that you couldn't keep in. Bucky looked back at you then.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing, uh," you tittered again, "nothing." You shook your head looking up to meet his eye. He relented when you didn't continue and looked forward again.

"I guess I just had a different idea of who you would be in person. The media paints you... differently," you tried to explain.

"How's that?"

"I don't know, uhm. A lot more... stoic, maybe?"

"Hm," he responded, "sorry to disappoint," he offered.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way," you rushed to try and remedy, all the while Bucky was smirking at you, something akin to amusement in his eye as he admired your flustered state. "Not that either way is - or - would be, bad. Sorry, I haven't had my coffee yet, my brain is kinda," you were saved from your rambling by your phone ringing in your hand. You glanced at the screen, taking a deep breath.

"Work," you offered as you waved your phone at him. "Have to take this, excuse me."

You turned and stepped away to take the call from your boss as Bucky watched you walk away, smile never falling from his lips. The barista called your order as you were talking and Bucky approached the bar to get your drinks while you kept your back turned.

A minute or so passed before you were finally able to end the call, the sound of the bell on the door ringing in time with you turning around to find that Bucky had gone.

You were slightly disappointed, well maybe a bit more than slightly, that odds were you'd probably never see him again, at least not in person. Maybe you were crazy, the hopeless romantic, valentine's energy in the air was getting to you, but you really thought there was a little spark of something there...

But Bucky Barnes was a hero, basically a celebrity, and you knew there was damn near no way you'd ever have the chance to explore anything with him. You laughed at yourself as you shook off the thoughts running through your head, walking to where your drink was waiting for you. Still, you were disappointed you weren't able to finish the conversation, or at the very least offer a goodbye. Not that it really mattered, you guessed.

As you grabbed your coffee cup, what appeared to be a lot of scribbling of black ink on the backside, now partially on your hand, caught your eye. You furrowed your brow as you held the cup up to your face to try and see it more clearly. When you started to make out the writing you had accidentally smudged, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. Under where the barista has written your name, read:

If you're open to company for those movie plans tonight, give me a call. I'll buy the chocolate.

Bucky's number, luckily, was legible as you continued reading his writing.

No pressure. Either way, have a great Valentine's Day, doll. It was good meeting you. - J.B.B.

You looked up smiling to yourself as you placed the cup back down for a second to grab your phone and take a quick picture of the note, lest you throw the cup away before taking his number down later. As you slipped your phone back in your pocket, the barista approached you from across the counter.

"Hey, so he asked me to tell you that he would've asked you face to face, but he didn't want to interrupt you?" she said in the form of a question as if she didn't really know what she was relaying to you. "Also, he bought himself a muffin before he left and wanted you to get the other item for free, so choice is yours," she offered gesturing to the bakery case.

"Oh, thank you," you smiled. "Ahh, I'll take a muffin, too."

A few moments later you had your coffee and muffin in hand as you walked to one of the tables around the cafe. Snapping a picture of the muffin, you sent it to Bucky's number along with a text.

Thanks for the muffin. And I'm definitely open to company.. Any movie suggestions?

You smiled at your screen when three dots popped up not long after you sent the message. This wasn't how you saw today going at all, but you certainly didn't mind the unexpected. A giddy excitement that you hadn't felt in a while came over you as you considered the possibilities of what would be in store tonight. It all felt so kismet, as ridiculous as that might have sounded...

You tried to tamper down your excitement and whatever dopey ideas were lurking in your mind as your phone dinged with a new message.

Bucky Barnes: Tons. How about we each choose one to watch?

Bucky Barnes: And I'd like to take you to dinner tonight, too. Does 7 sound good?

You: Okay, yeah. Seven works. It's a date. :)

You bit your lip to keep the dopey smile off your face as you clicked your phone to lock. Dinner and movies with Bucky Barnes on Valentine's Day. The plans formed easily in the blink of an eye, no carefully planned out details, just plans naturally unfolding and setting between you. Your life was far from a fairytale, but you couldn't shake the feeling that meeting Bucky today was meant to be, like something that was meant to play out was finally getting set into motion. All the pieces falling perfectly into place. You were excited to see where this would go.

#bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #valentine's day drabble #asks #minervadashwood #soulmate!au

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Nooo baby Bruce in the soulmate au has me wanting to just hug him tight :(((

Days. Weeks. Months. Years.

Time bled from one into the next with relentless inevitability.

And still, there were no words. Therapists. Doctors. They were all stumped. Throughly stymied. It HAD happened before but it was so rare no one had ever managed to find a cause. Or a solution.

So, life carried on. Sometimes, Bruce even managed to forget.

Training helped. Being so tired and sore he couldn't even lift his head to stare at the blank expanse of his left forearm.

Sometimes, as he stood in the rain, glowering down at a city that churned and seethed with violence and corruption, he thought it might be a blessing to not have a soul mate. There were no distractions from the mission. No extra burden to be borne.

Other times, as he watched couples holding hands. Murmuring jokes no one else could ever understand, he thought it might be a curse. One didn't NEED to find their soulmate to be in a happy relationship. Some people never did... with 7 billion people in the word, such a thing would be impossible for EVERYONE. But Bruce had standards.

Impossibly high standards. Ghosts that haunted reams he never remembered when he opened his eyes.

And he yearned. Longing for a home he'd never known. A person who could understand him so completely he'd never have to pretend to be something he wasn't.

He looked up at the moon and wondered what was wrong with him. If he was so fundamentally broken that the universe was saving someone else from him.

Maybe it was better if he was alone. If he kept his shattered piece to himself.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #soulmate!au #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert

[ldhluvr]

☆ done. — james x reader

info : soulmate!james, asshole!james, reader is so done with his shit, p angsty i’d say, lowk the marauders (mainly sirius) are kinda asses too, also this is short as hell, i maybe read this over 3 times so it’s not the best oops, also if u r insecure this is prob not best to read bc james is not a very kind man in this

“oh, come on now, i’m reserved for my one and only (y/n), of course,” he says dramatically.

james winks at you, but it’s clearly a big performance that he’s putting on. he’s making a joke of the situation and you’re the butt of it.

there’s laughter all around, because of course it’s laughable that he could be rejecting one of hogwarts’s finest girls for someone like you. they’re not pointing or anything, but they might as well be. you finally feel seen, but at what cost?

“you’re a bastard,” you say slowly, as if you’re just realizing. “i deserve better than you.” your voice was low and firm like you’re stating a fact, one that you’ve come to realize after being practically bullied by him for as long as you have.

james’s eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open. “what do you mean?” he laughs, not taking you seriously. “we’re soulmates — we’re supposed to be perfect. on par, i suppose.” there’s more laughter.

“but you don’t even think that. you think you’re so much better than me, you and your stupid friends. y’think just because i like you, because i feel like i’m supposed to, might i add, you get to make me a joke in your friend group, potter. yeah, fine, i like you. i can’t as a person, though, because you clearly don’t act like a fucking human being.” there are eyes on you from all sides, and the marauders’ jaws drop. sirius seems protective, almost like he’s about to come to james’s defense. you’re so tired of the lot of them. “shut it, sirius, don’t try to make your precious little boy the fucking victim here,” you snap.

the aforementioned boy closes his mouth, but he looks furious. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, but the rest of their group remains stationary, staring blankly at you. you take that as your cue to leave.

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #harry potter #soulmate!au #james is an actual ass #not like a donkey or a butt #he’s an asshole bro

[snowywinterevenings]

Last Line Prompt

@lttrsfrmlnrrgby tagged me in the last line prompt. I’m working on a little soulmate fic that popped into my head a couple of days ago. Hoping to post tomorrow or Tuesday.

There isn’t much Obi-Wan could ask him that he would refuse to answer, so he nods. “What do you want to know?”

“Did the Kaminoans harm clones who bore marks?”

Cody takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before he answers, trying to remain calm. “They decommissioned them early on, or so we believe. We don’t have any proof, just a lot of batches missing brothers and overheard whispers about defects in their product. Eventually it stopped being feasible for them to cull all of us who developed marks, and they began to burn them away instead.”

Open tags for anyone who wants to share what they’re working on!

#codywan #my WIPs #soulmate!au #last line challenge

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE [3]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mentions of the slave trade, canon violence, blood and injuries, PTSD flashback, mention of torture

word count: 6,183

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

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03: CALL IT FATE, DESTINY, CALL IT LUCK

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"luck is my middle name. mind you, my first name is Bad."

⏤terry pratchett

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Every blow to his body made you flinch as if you had been hit yourself. Blood splattered into the air, raining down into the already formed pool, and your cries of desperation had morphed into moans of mourning. Rough fingers dug into your cheeks holding you in place and keeping you from turning away from the assault. Lips pressed against the shell of your ear. Poisonous words hissed out in a voice that made your blood run cold.

‘No, no. You keep watching. I want to make sure this lesson sticks. I want to make sure you know who you belong to.’

You startled awake with a gasp⏤ eyes wide and searching for Viktor. His cruel, cold laugh lingering at the back of your mind. But, he was nowhere to be seen. You weren’t in his palace. The cockpit surrounding you was silent. The lines of hyperspace casting a soft, blue light on everything it touched. The Mandalorian. A breath of relief left you as you sunk in your seat. You were safe. Well, maybe not safe. You didn’t exactly trust your new captor. 

The room was empty save for you and as you sat up you realized the binders were gone from your wrists. Now, you trusted Mando even less. Who in their right mind captures a bounty and then leaves them unrestricted in their ship’s cockpit? You jumped up, staying quiet, and stepped over to glance over the blinking control panel. You were no pilot, but you knew the basics in case of emergency⏤ not that you’d ever put those skills to the test. How hard could it be? You pressed a button and when nothing happened you hit it twice more.

“It’s locked.”

You cried out in surprise and spun. Mando had climbed up the ladder right outside the open cockpit door but he only rose enough to rest his arm on the floor. You set a hand to your chest to try and calm your racing heart. “Maker, bucket head. You’re quiet.”

“You’re not.” He replied, then tilted his head. “Come down.”

Mando disappeared from view and you huffed in annoyance at how cool and collected the guy seemed. You rushed forward, sliding down the ladder, and when your boots hit the floor you spun to give him a piece of your mind⏤ determined to get under his skin. However, your eyes landed on the small, green child sitting on top of a crate now staring at you while his father rummaged through a weapons locker. Mando shifted enough that you were able to see your firearm hanging in the locker.

“Hey, that’s mine.” You barked. You had only gotten a step closer when Mando turned around and hit a button on his vambrace to close the doors. The tell tale sound of a lock being clicked into place. “Give it back.”

“Why do you only have one slug?” Mando asked.

“Why did you take off my binders?” You countered. It wasn’t something you expected to be answered, you just wanted to answer his question with a question.

The man shrugged. “You looked uncomfortable.” You blinked in surprise. “Where did you get the slugthrower?”

“It was…” His first answer had caught you so off guard that you nearly answered his own without thought. You caught yourself at the last minute and shook your head. “I found it at the bottom of a cereal box. I’m trying to collect the whole set.”

Mando sighed irritably and you took that as a victory. Although as great as it felt annoying Mando and getting a rise out of him, you realized that these moments you called ‘victories’ could possibly add up until the Manalorian snapped and murdered you. This scenario was like any other involving a bounty hunter. You had a person to escape from, and though it was a bit unconventional than your usual situation, you were nothing if not flexible.

“Alright Mando,” You crossed your arms and placed emphasis on the name he told you to call him, “What do you want?” He tilted his head and you shrugged. “Everybody wants something. What’s your price? What do I have to pay to get you to crush my fob and taxi me to Corellia?”

“Corellia?”

“It’s next on my list.”

“Why are you⏤”

You forced a frustrated laugh. “Why does it matter? Just tell me what you want and I’ll⏤”

“I already told you, I want answers.” He replied sharply. A soft coo came from the child, and Mando drifted closer to you. “I want to know who you are. I need to know.”

It was confusing as to why he seemed so desperate for something that had nothing to do with him. You rolled through the facts you had gathered. If rumors were true, Mandalorians were all about honor. You had saved his son⏤ sort of. He could’ve done it himself with that jetpack, but you hoped the intention was enough in this case. He didn’t shove you in carbonite, he let you sleep in his cockpit, removed the binders… Even now, he made no move to detain you. Did the Mandalorian want to help you? Was that it? Maybe he wanted to help you, to settle any debt he thought he may owe you, but he wanted to know he wasn’t aiding the scum of the galaxy. 

“You’re not a slave trader.” Mando said. He nodded in your direction, “Not with that collar.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to touch the metal welded around your neck, and gaped, “How… You don’t know that.” You pushed the words out firmly. Nobody assumed the gold choker was what it truly was. “It’s a necklace, bucket head. You⏤”

“No, it’s not.” He replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not with those scars. Nobody claws at a necklace.” 

Mando’s words were jarring. It would’ve been easier to handle him just punching your lights out. There was a slight tremble in your hands and you forced them into fists at your side to compensate. How had he even noticed? Nobody looked close enough to puzzle that out. They saw gold and assumed wealth. Any normal slave’s collar was made of scrap parts. Plus, Viktor had ensured that most of the marks you left had been healed properly. The only ones who hadn’t just lingered right under the band itself.

“Fine.” You forced all your emotions into the back of your head, out of the light, where it wouldn’t been seen or felt. You absolutely hated that this man was able to so easily get under your skin.“I’m a slave seeking revenge, Mando. Searching the galaxy for the man who used to own me so I can put a slug in his head.” He remained a statue as always. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“If it’s the truth, then yes.”

“Well, it is.” Sort of. More or less. That was the quick description of your mission, at least.

“Then why are you visiting cantinas? I can’t imagine a slave trader who is rich enough to decorate his slaves in gold would be hanging around the places you’re searching.”

Again, the Mandalorian wasn’t wrong. Viktor would never set foot in a public cantina, and you knew exactly where he was. Canto Bight. The issue was, in order to get to him you needed to find the ‘Reaper’ for information. Otherwise you’d never get close enough to pull the trigger.

“You’re right.” You said slowly.

Mando tilted his head. “Then who are you looking for?”

“A guy.”

“That’s vague.”

“Yeah,” You snorted, “It’s almost as if I’m being vague on purpose to avoid connecting to you in any way. Funny, huh?”

The cargo hold was filled with an uncomfortable silence. You couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s eyes, but you could feel his heavy gaze cutting straight through you. Growing up the way you did, born from a slave and raised with only one destiny for yourself, you had gotten used to being seen but not acknowledged. The places you worked equated you to a house plant or a piece of furniture.

Then Viktor saw you. He saw you. And the words scrawled on your ribs made you precious to him. He got some sick kick out of owning something fated to another. You joined a collection of others and you were no longer a piece of furniture to be ignored, but rather you were a trophy. An item to be seen and not touched. Admired but not connected to. As Mando guessed, Viktor dressed you in gold and flaunted you to every ne'er do well who visited him. That was your life for years, and it hadn’t changed until six months ago.

Six months ago you ran and your face decorated bounty pucks all over the galaxy, but you felt invisible. Nobody, save for a bounty hunter here or there, sought you out. You were a stranger on the street, a random face in the crowd, and you could live with that. It was better than the alternative.

Right now though? Standing in front of the Mandalorian you felt seen. Mando was actively seeing you at this moment, taking in details nobody had noticed before, and it unnerved you. He wasn’t looking at you like house decor or a trophy. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his next pay day like the other hunters had. Mando was treating you like another living soul and it bothered you that the sensation felt so foreign. How could a man who hid behind a wall of metal see you so clearly?

“If I told you that you could trust me,” Mando said slowly, hesitantly, “Would you believe me?”

“No. But it’s cute that you asked.”

Mando took a step toward you and your confidence faltered. You stumbled back a half step and spat a curse at yourself in your head. If he noticed your slip up, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he heaved a sigh. “I’ll take you to Corellia, with the promise of safe passage, on one condition.” You nodded. “When I drop you off, you don’t contact me again. This? This never happened. We never met. I’ll crush your fob and tell the guild you weren’t worth my time.”

You snorted in amusement. “Deal. That’s a win-win situation for me, bucket head.”

Maybe you weren’t the unluckiest son of a bitch on this side of the galaxy.

Din was tiptoeing through a minefield. And, the only person he had to blame for being stuck here was himself. He shouldn’t have kept you on the ship. Kriff, he shouldn’t have brought you on in the first place. Din should’ve shot you a quick ‘thanks for the help’ and left you behind in Bespin. But, no. Like the karking idiot he was, he brought you along and worse he spoke to you.

There was still a lot he didn’t know. He’d be foolish to think otherwise, but he felt a tinge of truth with your admittance a day earlier. For years, for most of his life, he cursed his soulmark and he loathed the idea of ever meeting his criminal soulmate. Now, he knew differently. Not a criminal, just a person seeking vengeance. Din was aware that a bulk of the galaxy would still consider someone with plans of homicide to be a criminal, but from where he sat Din could hardly judge. He was by no means a good man, without sin, and he had very recent memories of mowing down Imperial after Imperial for the sake of his son. So, your half truth didn’t shock him or fill him with disgust.

No, what Din felt disgusted over was the knowledge that his soulmate had been wronged. The word ‘wronged’ didn’t even begin to cover the atrocity you must have endured. His soulmate. You had been a slave, treated as such by society and owned by some bastard, and that made every single molecule of his body vibrate with rage. 

Mandalorians' belief in soulmates was by no means unique. They were very much like the rest of the galaxy in their reverence for the words. Maybe the one trait Mandalorians shared with the majority.

However, Aq Vetina was different. The culture nearly worshiped the concept of soulmates⏤ saw it as a true blessing and treated it as such. Din didn’t have a lot of memories of his home world. Didn’t have a lot of memories of his parents either. The memories he did have though he treasured, and one of the more prominent ones was this: his parents were soulmates. The reality of soulmarks was more dim than most would like to believe. Soulmates didn’t always end up together. For hundreds of different variables, but just because fate had scrawled words on a person’s skin didn’t mean it guaranteed them a happy ending.

His parents adored one another. Din remembered that. He grew up in a house filled and overflowing with love. An emotion as strong as that wasn’t easily forgotten. Hell, it felt like it was ingrained into his own soul. Tangled with his DNA. When Din lost his parents, he lost everything. Including his culture. The one comfort Din always took was who his soulmate would be. He knew he’d have a soulmark once he hit puberty, with both parents bearing it the chances of him not having one was incredibly low, and though it bothered him his parents would never see his mark he’d still take comfort in it. Just as every man from Aq Vetina before him, just as his father had, he’d find his soulmate and shower them with every ounce of love and adoration he could squeeze from his being. Din would find his soulmate and he would have a family once more. He’d have that love again.

There was no doubt of the love and care his Mandalorian buir and teacher had for him. Din owed the man everything. But the love was different. Not worse, not better, but different.

When his words formed on his skin, Din had never felt such joy and had never felt it turn sour so quickly. It was why the insult of who he thought his soulmate would be stung even worse. It felt like the last bit of his culture, the last shred of his parents he had left, was being taken. Insulted. Spat on. He spent years after convincing himself that a soulmate wouldn’t be worth his time and he was better on his own. Din didn’t seek relationships beyond flings and one night stands across the galaxy because any relationship would be a sad ghost in comparison to the memory of what his parents had. A reminder of what fate took from him.

Now, he sat in the same ship as his soulmate and it felt like so many of his years were wasted on an assumption.

Din was angry that his first words to you were a threat.

He was angry you grew up with that on your skin.

He was angry the mystery and excitement of having a soulmate had been taken from you as well.

He was angry you were treated as lesser than by the people surrounding you.

He was angry that someone had the audacity to put a collar around your neck.

Din was fucking angry.

It burned through his veins and had him seeing red. He was no stranger to anger, but this was overwhelming. And, the worst of it, the thing that made him burn alive from the inside out was the anger he had for himself.

Din never sought you out. He mentally and emotionally tossed you aside without even an attempt to understand. Din gave up on you. His soulmate.

The only thing keeping him from exploding and destroying everything in his radius was the depressing and mellowing thought of his father. His father would be so disappointed in him. His mother would be so disappointed in him. His buir would be disappointed in him. 

Din’s spiraling mind tried to comfort itself. It told him that he was doing better now. He knew better now. He was going to get you to where you needed to go and tell Karga to drop the bounty. He’d separate himself from you and then he’d never have to think of you again. You’d be better off without him. All those thoughts only worsened his shame.

What else could he do? It wasn’t just a thought. It was a prayer to the universe, to fate who got them stuck like this to begin with. What else could he do? Din wasn’t the wide eyed little boy starstruck at the notion of a soulmate anymore. The years had changed him into someone that didn’t deserve that. That left him pleading as he sat in the cockpit fuming silently. What else could he do?

The answer given to him was the sound of your feet climbing the ladder to meet him. He huffed out a quiet sigh and when you entered his peripherals he questioned your presence, more gruff than he intended, “What?”

“Maker, relax.” You dropped into the passenger seat with a scoff. Din cursed himself. Again. “Your kid fell asleep downstairs and I’m not desperate enough to start talking to your walls.” He stayed silent and you let out a chuckle. “Although, maybe your walls would be a better conversationalist.”

“You should sleep.” Din replied. It was his best case scenario right now.

“Not tired.” You slouched in your seat, finding a comfortable spot, “So what’s your kid’s deal? You have a mid-life crisis and find the closest kid to adopt?”

You were annoying. You never shut up. Din liked the sound of your voice way too much.

“No.”

“Then how’d you end up with him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s still two days until we reach Corellia.”

Din shouldn’t answer. The less he knew about you, and the less you knew about him, the better. He should keep his mouth shut, get you to the world you wanted, and speed away as fast as he could. Travel to the clear other side of the galaxy. He knew all of this, and yet his mouth opened. “He was a bounty.”

Fuck.

“Seriously?” You chuckled. “Why would there be a bounty on a kid?”

“It’s hard to explain.” And Din really didn’t want to. “Empire wanted him.”

You hummed and he was caught off guard when you didn’t ask any further questions on his vague statement. He was surprised further when you chuckled, “Good for you.”

Din turned in his seat to look at you. “I turned him in.”

“And then obviously went back for him, I’m guessing. Since he’s, you know, here.”

“That doesn’t change what I did⏤”

“We’re all assholes and it’s human nature that the first thing our brains think to do, our instinct, is sometimes selfish and stupid. It happens.” You said without missing a beat. “The only thing that matters at the end of the day is if you’re willing to fix what you fucked up and the conscious decision you make from there.” Din could only stare at you in response as your words rolled around in his head. You said it so simply, like an offhand comment or passing thought, but it felt so profound to him. You shrugged. “I know, I know. I can be inspirational sometimes. It happens.”

Din found his lips twitching up into a small smile and he forced himself to look away. The only safe spot to stare was the control panel. You stayed silent and Din realized that if he focused hard enough he could see your reflection in the glass panel that sat in front of you. Without any attention on you, without the business of a conversation, Din watched your features soften. There was a melancholy in your gaze that stirred something in his chest. 

“I can…” Din began and your eyes darted to look his way while he stayed facing forward, “I can remove that for you.”

“Huh?”

Din spun in his chair so he faced you, and he motioned to your neck where that damned collar sat. “That. I can remove it. If you’d like.”

Your eyes widened marginally and the surprise dissipated as quickly as it came. You shook your head. “No. I don’t want it off.”

“You don’t…” Din tilted his head in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you want it off?”

“It’s a story for another day.” You mumbled.

“But, I don’t understand.” Din blurted before he could reign it back. Never, ever would anybody in the entire galaxy claim him to be the nosy type of person. Din kept to himself and expected others to respect him in that same way. Silence never bothered him. Yet, that same sensation that stirred in his chest, urged him to learn more. It was the most unfamiliar feeling he’s ever had.

You shook your head. “You never take your armor off, right? Even when it’d be more comfortable to shed it all?”

“My armor is not the same as a slave collar.” Din bristled.

“You wear your armor because it stands for something. It represents a part of you, and carries a belief.” You replied sharply. “Right now, this collar serves the exact same purpose for me.  So, no, I don’t see a difference.”

Din leaned back and found himself speechless. That was all true of his armor, but he couldn’t fathom a person feeling similarly to the kind of metal soldered to your neck. He cleared his throat and leaned forward on his elbows. “I chose to wear this armor. I put it on willingly.”

“Who says I didn’t choose to put this collar on? Who said I wasn’t willing?” You replied and Din found himself floored again. The melancholy in your eyes hardened and turned to something sharp, mean, and cold. “You can find a sense of protection, of belonging, and what once brought you comfort can just as easily turn into a prison.” You stood up abruptly and Din’s gaze followed you. You motioned to him, “Are you telling me that beskar never feels like a prison?”

You turned on your heel and left. Din didn’t understand how easily you were able to spin him in place. The question you left him with felt like a blow to the chest. Din stiffened in his seat and shook his head. He needed to get you off this ship as quickly as he could.

“You’re kind of a weird kid, you know that?” You were laying on your stomach in the cargo hold, kicking your legs in the air, while leaning on one fist. The child, Grogu, sat in front of you munching on a ration bar that you had scavenged for him in all the the Mandalorian’s supply. You hadn’t asked permission, but you figured Mando couldn’t be upset at you for feeding his child. “Not because you’re green with giant ears. I have no issue with that.” You continued. “You’re just an oddball. In a good way, I mean.”

The boy babbled between bites and you nodded your head as he spoke.

“Mhmm.” You agreed to whatever he was saying. “Yeah. Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Three days on this ship with the Mandalorian and his son hadn’t been the worst thing in the galaxy. You were fed, you had a place to sleep, and the walking tin can hadn’t murdered you. It had been a while since you came away with this many wins back to back. The last bit of real tension you dealt with was when Mando offered to take the golden band around your neck off. You hadn’t meant to take it so personal or make it personal back. You must have seriously pissed the guy off though because since then he had maybe only spoken a total of ten words to you. Even when you tried to egg him into an argument. You found you missed talking to him which meant you must have been more desperate for interaction than you thought. Why else would you crave to hear his voice? 

You could always apologize for comparing his armor to your collar. The dig had been a guess. An attempt to get under his skin as he had gotten under yours. You pushed yourself up off the floor to sit criss cross and your hand drifted to the gold band around your neck. It’d be nice to have it off, but you couldn’t yet. Not until you dealt with Viktor. For now, you would just have to daydream about the day you’d walk around with a bare neck.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound of the modulated voice had you whip around in surprise, eyes wide and heart racing. Mando was leaning against the wall behind you. He must have come from the kitchen area or fresher, but considering you thought he had been up in the cockpit it really caught you off guard.

“Maker, how are you that silent? You’re basically covered in pots and pans.”

“Practice.” Mando shrugged. His hands were resting on his belt. “I’m sorry about,” He paused and nodded toward you, “you know.”

Your hand fell from your neck. “Why are you apologizing? That was like 48 hours ago.”

“We’ll be landing in Coreilla soon. It’s now or never.”

“Okay.” You mumbled. It surprised you again when the child waddled from around you and crawled into your lap. You scratched his head while he continued to eat. “I’m sorry too then. I didn’t have to drag your armor into it.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with it. There was an energy between you and the Mandalorian you couldn’t quite explain. The close quarters made you naturally want to bond, but from experience you knew that was a poor plan. Plus, Mando didn’t seem all that interested in starting up any kind of friendship. Which made sense. You’d be out of his life soon enough. You just wondered if you had gone too long without any real social interaction. Back when you were with Viktor, he had others in his collection that you had grown close to⏤ like sisters. You missed being social.

Before you could think of a bridging conversation, Mando pushed off the wall and climbed up into the cockpit. You blew out a breath of air as soon as he was out of view then glanced down at the kid in your lap.

“Why is your dad so hard to talk to?” You asked. “I can talk to anyone and anything, but that beskar may as well be a wall.” Grogu babbled another string of nonsense and you nodded. “Yeah, I mean he probably doesn’t make a habit of befriending quarries, huh?”

It was fine. It didn’t matter.

And, a few hours later when the ship was landed on the tarmac and the ramp was lowering you repeated those phrases to yourself again. 

“Well, uh, thanks.” You nodded. Mando had given you back your weapons and he now stood inside the cargo hold with his son in his arms while you drifted down the ramp. You paused at the bottom. “It’s been fun, bucket head.”

Mando didn’t reply, but Grogu did offer you a wave which you cheerily returned. With one last nod, and a mocking salute, you spun on your heel and began to tread away. You had only gotten a few feet from the ship when you heard Mando call out after you. The sound of his voice calling out your name grinding your feet to a halt.

“Just…Be careful.” Mando said tensely. 

“I always try.” You replied with a grin and a shrug.

As you continued to leave, your stomach churned in discomfort. The Corellia shipyard was dreary and gray which could sour anyone’s mood. When you reached the gates, the overwhelming urge to look back slammed into you. In fact, you nearly turned on instinct alone. A moment of weakness born from a desperation to connect to someone again. Shoving it as deep down into yourself as you could, burying it with the bloody memories and traumas in the graveyard of your mind, you pushed forward deeper into the city of Corellia. 

It took you only ten minutes to travel through the city and find the first cantina of many. By time you arrived thoughts of the Mandalorian had been successfully shelved and you were seriously craving a strong drink. The bartender was kind and cheerful, the opposite of how this city of Corellia looked, and after he poured you a drink you drifted to a back table. 

You decided this was going to be your least favorite world. Even in comparison with Jakku. Never before had entering a city filled you with such dread and distaste. Like a cloud of darkness had rolled over your mind to match the stormy clouds above the city itself. You were honestly just in shock that there could be a place worse than Jakku. That rolled into the realization that the galaxy was a big place and you still had a lot of ground to cover. There was a chance you had yet to see the worst this universe had to offer. That only worsened your misery.

Something solid, something you unfortunately recognized as the end of a blaster, pressed against your spine. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

Fate just couldn’t give you a fucking break could it?

With a sigh, you turned around and began to mumble your usual spiel, “Would you really arrest your⏤” The words died in your mouth as your eyes landed on the man standing behind you. A Nikto wearing a grin filled only with malice and eyes that shone with rage. One who gripped the blaster tight in one hand while his other hung loosely at his side with three missing fingers. You grimaced, “Oh, my luck can’t possibly be this bad…”

Din was pacing the cargo hold while Grogu watched him curiously from the cot. Already he had climbed up to the cockpit just to immediately come down twice. He wanted to leave this kriffing planet. Why couldn’t he leave this kriffing planet? He mumbled a string of curses after the rhetoric question. Of course he knew why. 

“This is a bad idea.” Din scoffed aloud. Grogu chirped and his feet came to a stop so he could stare at the kid. His son. Saving Grogu had been a bad idea too. A life changing one at that. That didn’t make it any less important that he went through with the rescue. Din had gambled, taken a chance, and his pay out had been worth more than he could’ve ever imagined. Could he take a gamble on you?

Considering how quickly he had given up on you years prior, taking a gamble was the least he could do.

Din sighed and grabbed his satchel to place Grogu in before hurrying off the ship. He didn’t have a plan. Then again, he rarely did. What would he say to you? Admit that he was your soulmate? Din probably should have done that three days ago. But with the way you had blown off the idea of soulmates, he had a high suspicion that telling you the truth would only worsen the situation. Besides, he was not interested in exploring the soulmate relationship further. Din didn’t deserve that. What he could do, what he owed you, was help in your mission. If he told you the truth, you wouldn’t let him help. If he kept it to himself, then maybe he could help you meet your goals and put you on a path to a better life. One you deserved.

There. Plan made.

Din knew he needed to find a cantina but he wasn’t sure which you’d be in since there were a few in this city. He picked the closest one and hoped for the best. 

The hand knotted in your hair roughly threw you back to the asphalt ground of the alley behind the cantina. You landed on your back, the air briefly leaving you, and you stared up at Nivor. With a wince, you spoke, “You know, for only having two fingers you got a pretty tight grip.”

A boot slammed into the side of your rib cage before Nivor knelt down and pressed his knee against your sternum. Your hands reached out to claw at him, shove him off, but he grabbed your wrists with his one good hand and pinned it to the ground above your head.

“You always have something to say.” Nivor spat. “Don’t know why Viktor liked you so much.”

“You and me both.” You replied.

He applied more pressure to your chest with his knee and you clenched your teeth to bite back a moan. Nivor chuckled, “He wants you back.”

“I’m aware.” You snapped, breathless.

“Told him I’d bring you back, but I don’t think he’d mind a few missing pieces.”

“Wrong.” You glared up at him. “You bring me back less than whole and he’ll rip your head off.”

Nivor shook his head, “You’re overestimating your worth, little bird.” Your glare deepened at the nickname. “Viktor’s found a new favorite plaything.” The Nikto pulled a vibroblade from his belt. “Besides, you owe me some parts.”

“Is this about the fingers thing?” You replied. “That was an accident. I wasn’t trying to shoot off half your hand, I was trying to kill you.” You couldn’t help but paste on a smug smirk. “So really you should be thankful.”

“What is it they say? A leg for a leg.” Nivor dragged the blade up from your knee to your hip. Not deep enough to cut through your clothes, but enough to make you uncomfortable. “An eye for an eye.” The blade kissed the skin of your cheekbone as it circled around your eye softly. “How about a hand for three fingers?!”

You shook your head. “The math is not adding up there, buddy.”

With a cry of anger, Nivor lifted the blade in the air and at the motion his knee lifted off your chest. Using the window of opportunity, you rolled into him as hard as you could and he fell back on his ass. However, though his grip had loosened some, he still had a tight hold on one of your wrists and it kept you from running. You tried to twist out of his grip to avoid the blade he was swinging wildly now, and your free hand shot to grab your own dagger. Nivor was stronger than you gave him credit for, and once he gained his footing he was able to yank you back to the ground. The dagger you managed to grab clattered away from your grip when your chest slammed into the asphalt and a cry of pain slipped from your lips as Nivor twisted your arm back to keep you pinned down. Now, his knee dug into your spine.

You tried to reach around and grab him, but your fingers only grazed the leather of his jacket.

“For that, you’re losing your whole arm.” Nivor chuckled. 

His blade pressed into your shoulder and panic flooded your entire body. No, no, no. This was your dominant arm. This injury would put an abrupt end to your mission and that was only if you survived it. Between blood loss and Nivor choosing a grimy alley to operate, your chances were slim. With another scream, you tried to shake your entire body in a poor attempt to knock him off of you, but you only felt his blade begin to dig in deeper. Heat flare in your shoulder as Nivor deliberately sunk it in as slowly as possible. 

“Stop!” The plea left your lips and you immediately felt shame for begging this man for mercy. You heard his chuckle, the blade sunk a bit deeper, then with the familiar sound of a blaster going off the weight suddenly fell from your back. You were gasping for air, your heart still pounding as you felt hot blood drip down your back and shoulder, and when you glanced to the side you saw Nivor slumped to the ground. The sinister light in his eyes was gone and his features were slack. There was still smoke rising from the blaster burn in his back.

You turned the opposite way, whipped your head in that direction more like, and there stood the Mandalorian now holstering his weapon. You had tucked his memory away, sure you’d never see him again, but now you felt so relieved to be wrong. Seeing that shine of silver may as well have been the glowing end of a long tunnel. The little green child, resting in his bag by his side, lifted his hand and gave you a small wave.

With the arm that wasn’t numb with pain, you waved back.

taglist:

@onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie @chonkercatto @xalphafox @pedrojoe @zarahbronstein @cockscombkingdom @ale0m @shelbyteller @fallinallinmendes @grandtheoristpeach @perilous-pasta @love-the-abyss @kneelforloki @insomniac-nerd-posts-things

a/n: this was supposed to be my silly, funny, light hearted story, but the reader in this grabbed me by the shirt collar and went 'bitch nah'. soooooo here we are :)

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #reader insert #female reader #slow burn #soulmate!au