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prettyboybarzal · 4 years

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lessons in romance // nate mackinnon x reader

summary: nate mackinnon is really bad at keeping a steady girlfriend. so bad that’s become somewhat of a joke between him and the boys. but you come along and try to set him straight.

word count: 14k+

author’s note: it’s finally here. i’m honestly surprised at how fast i cranked this out... which is actually a LOT longer than most people write on here so mayb i shouldn’t brag lmao! this fic was inspired by THIS gifset. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me feedback/reblog!!!!!!

warnings: smut (i jumped out of my comfort zone people. i finally wrote some lmfao) & mentions of a past toxic ex

Weekends were better spent in bed or visiting family, not sitting in a crowded bar with men who reminded you slightly of your ex-boyfriend. You were probably overreacting a little bit because the guys truly meant well, but their overly boy-ish energy was startlingly similar to that of your ex. Maybe a few more drinks would help the cause and you could get passed the sex jokes.

Mel Landeskog was the reason you were there. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, much like her husband, and so you were sitting across the booth from some of the largest men you’d ever seen in your life. Gabe gave you the rundown of their names as they arrived though the only one you could remember was Cale. He was a perpetually blushing 21-year-old named after a vegetable; how could you forget him?

“Do you think Nate’s upset about this one?” Cale asked. The new topic of conversation was their friends’ disastrous date since he texted to tell them he was broken up with and was on his way to them. “They were sort of serious.”

“We’re about to find out,” Gabe announced, nodding towards the entrance of the bar. Nate was on his way to the booth, tired smile on his lips. As he got closer, he started shaking his head and the table erupted in chirps at his expense.

You recognized him from earlier at the Landeskog’s pregame. He was slipping out of the front door as you stepped in. His cologne was the type the good-looking guys always wear, and you weren’t disappointed when you looked up at him. He was handsome with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows and the top three buttons undone, and when he smiled, you all but swallowed your tongue.

He began to greet his teammates. The chain around his neck caught the light of the DJ booth and you found yourself gazing at it. You tore your eyes away from the gold at the sound of Mel’s voice introducing you.

“This is my girlfriend, YN, from my Saturday morning Cycle class,” she said. “And, YN, this is my husband’s boyfriend, Nate MacKinnon.”

He threw his head back in a laugh at Mel’s joke as he extended a hand to you. “Nice to meet you.”

You listened to the quips from his teammates, each one with their own opinion about Nate’s relationship or lack thereof. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time in recent months that he’d been broken up and it had become somewhat of a spectacle to the boys. Mel, who’d seen this song and dance one too many times, wrapped her fingers around your elbow and tugged you with her towards the bar.

“What was that about?”

“Nate can’t hold down a girlfriend,” she explained. “It’s been a joke since he first came here because they almost all have the same issue with him.”

“And what is that?”

“He’s not romantic enough.”

You glanced back over your shoulder and watched the boys laughing amongst each other. It looked like they were celebrating as they lifted their beers in a sad looking toast, and it hit you right where it hurt.

You really saw your ex-boyfriend in the group now and, though you tried not to make assumptions, you found it hard to set the first impression aside. The liquor in your system didn’t help. With each joke about his dating misadventures, you became less of a fan of him and by the end of the night you were bubbling over in annoyance.

Gabe and Mel offered Nate a ride home towards the end of the night and you managed to keep your expression neutral when he accepted. As they headed out to grab the car, you and Nate waited at the curb several feet away from each other.

“I’m sorry about your break up,” you offered after a moment of silence. The statement came out more like a question and Nate’s lips quirked up into a smirk at the inflection of your voice. “Sorry, I just can’t tell if you’re upset or not, so I don’t know if I should even offer my condolences.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not upset,” he began. “I saw it coming.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time a girl’s broken up with me for not being romantic enough,” he said. Thoughts were filling your head faster than you could make sense of them. There was no reason for the situation to annoy you as much as it did. You didn’t know this guy and the odds that you ever saw him again were slim.

“So, if it’s not the first time, why hasn’t anything changed?”

“Excuse me?” he asked. There was a crease between his eyebrows. He hadn’t been expecting you to respond like that. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t your business

“I mean, you act like a martyr when you probably would be successful in love if you just put in the romantic effort these girls are craving,” you said. Your anger had begun to boil over and words were spilling from your mouth faster than you could stop them. “Guys like you are the worst. You lead girls on and make them think they’re special. Next thing they know, they’ve been wasting time on you and your lack of effort.”

The comment made Nate take a step away from you. His eyebrows drew together in shock and confusion. As you spoke, he turned his body to you and crossed his arms over his chest. The moment you closed your mouth, he interjected. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” you argued, turning to him. You were in a stand-off with a man several inches taller than you, and to any passerby it probably looked a little bit funny, but you weren’t backing down. “I know guys like you. I’ve dated guys like you.”

Before Nate could continue arguing, the Landeskogs pulled up to the curb. Mel hollered out for you two and the topic of conversation was dropped.

---

You regretted everything you said to Nate the moment you woke up the morning after. It wasn’t like you to be so rude, especially not to someone you didn’t know. Your heart stopped every time Mel texted you in the days following. You thought that at any moment she’d confront you about what you said to him, but it never came. As the week carried on, you found yourself forgetting the harsh words spoken outside the bar and the worry stopped.

Until Thursday night.

The knock at your apartment door was unexpected. You met your roommate, Mara’s, narrowed eyes over the dirty dishes you were working on. By the look on both your faces, neither one of you had a guest on the way over. She turned on her heel to check the peephole and the next look she gave you was equally as confusing as the previous one. She still opened the door.

“Does YN live here?”

The voice sent shockwaves through your veins and you stopped your movements, plates held just above your head as you were about to slide them into the cabinet. Nate MacKinnon was at your apartment. Mara nodded at him slowly before stepping back to let him in.

“Hi,” he greeted. His hands were tucked into his sweatshirt pocket, legs clad in compression leggings and a pair of shorts. He looked like he’d just come from a workout and his hair was still wet from the shower he’d taken before coming over. “I hope you don’t mind. Gabe gave me your address.”

“No problem,” you told him through a shaky breath. “Come in. Come sit at the island.”

He removed his shoes and approached slowly, sending Mara one last smile as she crept off down the hall. You silently cursed her for leaving you with your shaking hands as you cleared the clutter from the countertop. You watched him as he settled into the stool across from you, mirroring the kind smile he was sharing with you.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? I have food, too, if you’re hungry.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. His voice was softer now than it had been before. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night. It won’t take long.”

“Oh?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped. You wanted to start apologizing right then. You didn’t have a reason to go and butt into his personal life like you had. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Guys like him didn’t care about your opinions. “I’m sorry for what I said. When I get drunk, I have the tendency to shoot off at the mouth.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. Your mouth snapped shut. “No one keeps me in check. All the guys think the fact that I can’t keep a girlfriend is a big joke because I’m so bad at dating. It shouldn’t be a joke. So, I’m sorry and thank you.”

You dropped your hands to the counter and leaned against it. The last thing you expected was for Nate to thank you, so you needed a moment to gather your thoughts. His eyes glistened as he watched you and then the corner of his lip quirked up because you started giggling.

“You should not be thanking me,” you said. With that simple statement, the tension in the air lifted. You turned your back on him, indicating that if the conversation must go on, you were going to be doing the dishes as well. “I was just being bitter the other night.”

“You had every right to be,” he said. “I was gloating.”

“You were kind of gloating,” you mumbled. You hadn’t meant for Nate to hear, and he knew that, but he laughed anyway. You turned to face him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said. He didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point. It seemed like you’d apologize for taking up space and that made him feel a bit sad. He smiled politely at you anyway, to signal he wasn’t annoyed by the apologies, and it lit up his features in a way you hadn’t noticed the other night. “Anyway, I came here for a reason.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to teach me to be romantic.”

He delivered it tentatively, as though he was afraid of the way you might react. In the split second that followed, your mouth open and closed twice as every possible response came to your mind. He waited patiently.

Finally, “You don’t even know me. How can you be so sure that I’m the right person to teach you this stuff?”

“You’re a girl,” he explained, deadpan. “Girls know romance.” You snorted at how adorably dumb he was. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth in embarrassment and your cheeks burned as he grinned at you, amused by the sound of your laugh. “What do you say?”

---

Mondays were always your least favorite day of the week. Every weekend, your workload piled up and most Mondays you could hardly take a lunch break because you were so busy getting shit done. Whenever you came home from work on Mondays, you were wiped. Mara always made sure to have dinner ready for you when you got in, and the two of you often sat on the couch while eating those nights.

That Monday, you were sure that you’d be in bed before the Bachelor even started. But then Nate showed up unannounced. Mara was in the middle of washing the dishes this time, so you were the one to open the door. He greeted you with a goofy smile and a large electrical wire. Without a word, you stepped to the side and he was kicking off his shoes to enter the living room. Mara caught the roll of your eyes as you followed him.

He was standing beside the television when you entered the room. The wire he’d brought with him was connected to his cellphone while he found a port for the other end. You sat at the corner of sectional and waited, yawns escaping your mouth every minute or so. The day had been long enough already.

Suddenly, the television lit up with his cellphone background on full display. He held it up to show you, a grin present on his face.

“I need your help,” he began. He tapped one of the dating apps on his home screen and immediately you were regretting letting him in. You realized he wasn’t leaving any time soon as he unraveled the cord and plopped down beside you on the couch. Mara entered the room, eyes catching on the beautiful brunette woman on the screen, and then she gave Nate a curious look. “Come on, Mara. Join us.”

An amused smile came to her lips as she sat on the other end of the couch.

“I am not swiping for you,” you grunted, rubbing at your eyes. “I have no interest in judging girls off these apps.”

“Relax, YN,” he said. “I’m not asking you to play matchmaker. Just help me talk to this girl.”

“You need help talking to girls?” Mara asked as she gave him the once over. You laughed out loud while Nate blushed.

“I don’t need help,” he began. He turned his attention back to the television and pulled up the profile of a beautiful brunette woman. “I just don’t want to come on too strong, or douche-y. This girl is perfect and I wanna take her out.”

“Can you two make this quick?” Mara asked. “The Bachelor’s on tonight.”

“And my bed is calling my name.”

Nate peered at you over his shoulder. He smiled at your tired eyes, drooping as you leaned your head on your hand. He leaned back, stopping inches from your face and said, “I’ll make it quick.”

To your surprise, and Mara’s delight, he reached up and ran his hand over your hair before turning back to the television. He gave a rundown about the girl on the television, but his words went in one ear and out the other. Your glazed eyes watched as he typed out messages to her, and you laughed when Mara made fun of the way he was talking. (“Why the fuck are you talking like that? Are you her father?”) Finally, he turned on you.

“Are you gonna help or what, love doctor?”

“Give me the phone,” you said, extending your hand. He plopped it into your palm and watched you type out the message on the television screen. It took you less than a minute to type out a sweet message asking the girl out on a date before you were shoving the phone back into his hand. “You overthink too much.”

“That’s it?”

“Short and sweet,” you noted with a shrug. “I’d say yes.”

Nate’s eyes cut to you and you felt a chill run down your spine at the intensity behind them. Mara cleared her throat as you diverted your attention from him, shaking the feeling you got from his baby blues. She smiled sweetly at the two of you. “Can I detach your phone from our TV now? It’s almost time for Bach.”

You peeled yourself off the couch and headed to the bathroom to wash your face before changing into sweats and a t-shirt. You returned to the living room to find Nate with his feet up on the coffee table. Mara had tuned the television to ABC and the Bachelor recap was playing. He looked up as you entered and frowned.

“Stay out here a little bit longer,” he proposed, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “We’ll watch some of this and see if she says yes to the date.”

“Nate, I’m exhausted.”

“C’mon.”

You couldn’t say no, not when he was pouting like that. So, you rolled your eyes and walked around the couch to plop down in the spot you’d been before. Before long, your eyes were closing and you couldn’t keep them open any longer.

Nate didn’t realize you fell asleep, but he didn’t mind when you leaned against his arm as a pillow. He stiffened for a moment, unsure of what to do, but a soft snore escaped your lips and he found himself smiling down at your peaceful face. He didn’t move for the rest of the episode because he was too nervous to wake you. When the credits began to roll, he dropped a hand to your knee and shook you lightly.

Your eyes opened, bleary from sleep, and you found that you’d fallen asleep on him. You jerked away, realizing that it was probably too close for comfort, and smiled apologetically. He returned the smile before standing and gathering his things from the coffee table.

“Get some sleep,” he said on his way to the front door. You hummed in response, following him to the door to say a proper goodbye and lock up. He pulled you into a hug before going, shocking you once again by with how gentle he was despite hardly knowing you.

“Did she say yes?” you asked as he pulled away from the hug. “I almost forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, she did.”

---

Lesson #1: The First Date

In the chaos of the week that followed, you’d almost forgotten that you promised Nate your assistance before the date. You weren’t used to being accountable for someone else like you were now, so it wasn’t surprising.

“There is a man at reception asking for you.”

The office receptionist, Debby, was standing in the doorway with a giddy smile on her lips. You knew immediately from the look in her eye that the man at the front desk was going to be the talk of the office for a week.

You stood, following her out the door of your office and down the hall. As you rounded the corner to reception, you saw Nate leaning against the desk. He was sucking on a mint from the bowl in front of him and smiled wide when he saw you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have my date tonight, remember?” he asked. One glance at your watch told you that you worked a little too late. You cursed under your breath, turning quickly to head back to the office and send one last email. Nate hesitated, but ultimately decided to follow you down the hallway. He eyed the pencil skirt you were wearing, eyes lingering a little too long on your ass. He shook his head from his trance, knowing damn well that he was just asking for trouble.

Nate lingered in the doorway of your office for a moment before his eyes landed on a picture frame across the room that caught his attention. It was a marble frame without a photo like it had been removed and never replaced. He picked the frame up and turned it over in his hands, then turned to you.

“You need a picture.”

“What?” you asked, eyes still trained on the screen. They flickered up to see what he was talking about and then got right back to work. “Used to be a picture of me and my ex. Nobody’s important enough to put in.”

Nate placed the frame down. He felt a pang of sadness for you in that moment, but distracted himself by moving onto the next shelf and playing with some of the desk games on it. He was in the middle of fiddling with your Rubiks cube when you stood from the computer.

“You’re wearing that?” you asked. Nate winced at the question, glancing down at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. When he looked back up, you were wearing a shit eating grin. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Jesus, YN.” He clutched his heart and released a deep breath. You rounded the desk and grabbed your jacket from the hook. As you swung it over your shoulders, Nate stepped up to help. You slipped your arms through the arm holes trying to suppress the flair up of butterflies in your stomach.

When you reached the sidewalk outside the building, you led him down the block to a florist. Their window displays were your favorite in the city and you often found yourself going out of the way to peak at them on shitty days. You daydreamed about the day someone bought you a bouquet from there specifically.

The bell above the door rang as you stepped in. The smell of fresh flowers hit your nose and you sniffed it in happily. You grinned back at Nate and he felt a tug at his heart at your excitement.

“Can I help you?”

You bounded over to the woman behind the counter, Nate following behind you a little awkwardly. You gave him an expectant look and then his brain finally caught up with the question. As he leaned forward to look at the flowers in the case in front of you, his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“What would you get?” he asked curiously. You took a sharp intake of breath at the lack of space between you and pulled away to look at the flowers.

“Sunflowers and baby’s breath are my favorites.”

Nate smiled at the woman behind the counter and repeated what you’d just said, adding, “It’s for a first date, so I don’t need it too big or anything.”

You laughed at his explanation, and then the blush that come to his cheeks when he realized how silly he sounded. Neither of you noticed the confused look on the florist’s face. She was about to comment on how cute the two of you were, and in hindsight she was glad she kept her mouth shut. He reached out and squeezed your arm as a warning to stop teasing him. You stepped away completely, still smiling stupidly as he turned to pay.

“I’d’ve put roses in there too,” you told him once you were back on the sidewalk. “But this is only a first date. It might’ve been a little intense.”

“Roses?” he asked. You hummed in response, plucking the flowers out of his hand as you continued in the direction of the restaurant he was meeting his date at. “Good to know, you know, for the future.”

The walk to the date spot was only about ten minutes long and most of it was spent talking about your plans for the weekend as opposed to his date. He was going to be away with the team and you had plans to visit family. You kept thinking to yourself that you needed to stop getting distracted by him and his good looks and his sweet disposition. He was dating someone, and that person was not and would not be you, but he kept surprising you with the way he weaseled himself into your life.

“We’ll have to hang out next week sometime, then,” he said, snatching the flowers back out of your hand playfully. You nodded, but you were taken by surprise. It didn’t make sense that he’d want to hang around you without getting something out of it, whether it was dating advice or something more. Clearly, Nate didn’t care and you were beginning to wonder if maybe you’d get a beautiful friendship out of this nonsense.

“Any last-minute advice?”

“Don’t say anything dumb,” you said to him, emboldened by the realization that you might actually be friends now. Nate laughed out loud. “You think I’m just being funny, but sometimes you say stupid shit.”

“Jeeze,” he muttered. “Way to fuck up my self-esteem right before a date.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes and came to a stop just before the crosswalk he’d be using. He slowed to a stop as well, the bouquet of flowers falling to his side as he looked down at you. You reached out to right them with an amused smile. “Careful with these.”

“Got it, boss.”

You stalled a moment more, gazing at the flowers. You almost felt jealous of the girl going to dinner with Nate because those flowers would look perfect in a vase on your dining room table. “God, I really hope she appreciates those.”

The tone of your voice took Nate by surprise. It sounded a little sad, and full of yearning, and he felt kind of bad that he’d be walking away with the flowers you’d been admiring the entire walk from the florist. Even so, you said your goodbyes and he watched you turn on your heel to head home. He felt stuck in place, eyes trained on your retreating frame while his feet were cemented to the sidewalk. Before he could second guess himself, and his motives, he called out your name.

“Wait, YN!” When you turned, he was halfway down the sidewalk to you and, once he was within arm’s length, he plucked a sunflower from the bouquet and extended it. “For you.” Your cheeks felt red hot as your fingers curled around the stem. You hoped he couldn’t notice a blush. If he did, he didn’t make it known and left with a simple, “I’ll talk to you later.”

A stupid smile sat on your lips the entire way home. You felt the thumping of your heart long after you’d entered your place and placed the flower in the dining table vase. No matter what you found yourself doing that night, Nate remained at the back of your mind. You swore to yourself that it was because you wondered how his date was going, nothing more. But, when your eyes kept finding their way to the sunflower on the dining room table, you worried that maybe the reason you couldn’t stop thinking about him was something more.

---

You grabbed dinner with Mel the next Tuesday. Because of your trip to visit family, the two of you agreed to take a week off and reschedule some sort of get together for Tuesday. Gabe was home so he’d be with Linnea, and you were just happy that it wasn’t Monday. She was in the middle of a story when your phone lit up beside you; Nate’s name was on full display.

When’s our next lesson?

You snatched the phone off the table and away from Mel’s prying eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t peak her curiosity. The movement itself was enough to stir her, though, and Mel was soon leaning forward to see what was going on. She reached out and pushed the phone down, craning her neck to read the text.

“Next lesson?” she asked, eyebrow quirking. “Who is this?”

“It’s Nate MacKinnon.”

You said it so quickly and so nonchalant that Mel actually continued picking at her brunch before she reacted. Her fork clattered to the plate. “Did you just say Nate MacKinnon?”

“This,” you began gesturing at her wild eyes and wicked smile, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Why?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m totally going to take this and run with it?” You dropped your face in your hands. “You should go for it. He’s a little dumb, but mostly cute. You definitely have the patience to deal with him though.”

“Mel, it’s not like that at all,” you told her. “I’m helping him learn how to be more romantic.” Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in shock. “I’m serious. You know just as well as I do that he’s bad dating. He asked for my help after we met. I have enough experience with douchebags to tell him what not to do.”

“You sure do,” Mel agreed. You laughed at her response and an easy smile spread across her face. “Maybe teaching him a thing or two about how to be romantic will remind you of what you deserve.”

You sighed, picking up the coffee in front of you to take a sip. Mel knew better than anyone, besides Mara, how shitty the guys in your life had been. She met your ex last year just before your break up and she hated him from the moment you introduced the two. He never deserved you and her heart broke the longer you spent wasting your time on him. When you finally ended it, she was your biggest supporter.

You left the message unanswered, not wanting to give her anymore ammo in what was sure to be her new mission. When she got up to head to the bathroom before the check came, you opened the message from him. The last conversation was from Saturday night and he was letting you know that the girl he’d gone out with was looking forward to their next date.

What do you need help with now?

Do you know how to cook?

---

Lesson #2: A Homemade Meal

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to cook,” you grunted as soon as Nate pulled his apartment door open on Friday night. The grin on his face was anything but apologetic and you pushed past him with two large grocery bags in hand. You brought them to the kitchen and began unpacking them onto the counter.

“I do know how to cook, by the way,” he said, stepping up beside you to help you remove everything from the bags. You eyed him skeptically. “Mostly just the basic meats and vegetables.”

“You can’t cook a date your pregame meal.”

Nate knew that. He wasn’t that stupid, but he did love saying stupid shit around you. You tended to roll your eyes at him, but your lips always gave away how you really felt about his stupidity. The right side always curled up into a smirk, like you were trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest. He loved it when you did that.

“Is this, like, a meal your ex used to make?” he asked after grabbing some spices from the cabinet. You were grateful that his back was turned because the easy smile on your lips disappeared at the reminder of him. You busied yourself with the pot of water on the stove and set it to boil.

“No, my ex never actually made dinner for me,” you answered in a poor attempt to keep your voice steady.

Nate stopped prepping the meat and turned to face you. Questions sat on the tip of his tongue, begging for him to ask, but you wouldn’t look at him. He felt a little bit angry at your confession, though he couldn’t quite place why. Admittedly, he had been that boyfriend before – the one that didn’t cook dinner. Now, he was mad at himself for ever being that guy.

When you didn’t turn to look at him, he dropped the subject. You worked in silence, you busy with the pasta and him with the chicken. As you waited for the food to be ready, you hiked yourself up onto the counter. Nate grabbed a bottle of red wine from the end of the counter and poured glasses for the both of you.

He stood across from you with a dish towel over his shoulder and his own glass of wine in his palm. He asked about work and you filled him in on all the hot office gossip. The smile on his face didn’t fall once as he listened to your stories, and he never tried to change the subject or take over the conversation for himself. After a while, you stopped.

“I’ve been talking forever.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been enjoying it,” he told you. You laughed. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall in your office.”

Feeling a bit bolder, you kicked your foot out and nudged his side. “Maybe I can take you to bring your pet to work day.”

Nate’s jaw dropped, a reaction you weren’t expecting, and you began laughing hysterically at his surprise. He placed his wine glass down beside him and took a step closer, wrapping a hand around your ankle to tug you closer to the edge of the counter. You yelped in surprise.

“Pet?” he asked. You wiggled your foot out of his grasp, giggles falling from your lips as he dropped his hand to his side. The oven started beeping, interrupting whatever moment you were having before it could continue. “Saved by the bell.”

“Looks good, Nate,” you praised as he pulled it out of the oven. “My mouth is watering.”

“Go sit down,” he ordered. “You have to evaluate my presentation and make sure I look good.”

Nate entered shortly after you sat down and placed the plates on either side of the table with a smile. He slipped back out and returned with the wine. There was mischievous glint in his eyes as he topped your glass off and added to his.

“How is it?” he asked, leaning back. A look of cockiness flashed over his features and you felt it in your stomach when you looked at the way his arms were crossed and his biceps filled out the sleeves of his t-shirt. You picked up your utensils and cut into the meal, picking up a bit of each piece before putting it in your mouth.

Nate leaned forward eagerly. He watched your eyes light up when the flavor hit your tongue and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You nodded emphatically as you swallowed your first forkful. He cut into his own meal and the moment he took a bite, he moaned. The meal was so good that conversation was sparse and, by the end, it looked like your plates had been licked clean.

You didn’t stop Nate from filling your glasses again, though you figured you should have. The third glass always lowered your inhibitions.

“How pissed off would you be if I asked you about your ex?”

“Not pissed off,” you answered. You took a sip of the wine, then leaned your cheek in your palm as you spoke. “What do you want to know?”

Nate sat up at this, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t prepared himself with a question because he didn’t think you’d give him the go ahead. He let out a tuft of breath, took a sip from his glass, and thought. Finally, he asked, “Why’d you break up?”

“How long do you have?”

“As long as you need,” he answered. His voice was soft, comforting, and you felt yourself relax into the question.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to break up with him,” you began. “And, if I didn’t have friends like Mel and Mara, I might still be with him. Things have changed now, though. I realize what a crap human being he was but, if I stayed with him, I don’t think I would’ve realized how much better I deserved.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“Do I seem like the fighting type?” you teased. He shook his head. “He did enough fighting for the both of us. He would yell at me for no reason sometimes, just because he felt like it.”

Nate was angry. His features were contorted in distaste as you told him about your ex. Even though you tried to make light of the situation with a few light-hearted jokes, Nate couldn’t find it within in him to react with laughter. You deserved so much better than what you’d been given.

“When I broke up with him, Mara was there. We packed my things and moved it all out. I was going to leave a note, but he came home from work early and caused a scene. He went out the night after and sent me all these videos and pictures of him out with his friends. They were flipping me off, girls were draped all over him, etcetera. I blocked him the next morning and I haven’t seen him since. That was over a year ago.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his head in his hands. He felt ashamed. “That’s why you yelled at me.”

“Yep,” you answered. “Emotions got the best of me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Silence filled the room and you felt vulnerable. You didn’t share the story about your tumultuous relationship often, but with Nate it just slipped out. You grabbed your glass from the table and finished it off.

“I’m not staying for another,” you announced. Nate sat back, his face flashing with an offended expression. As you gathered the plates from the table, you tried to ignore the knots in your stomach that were becoming more and more prevalent when he was around. “Nothing good ever happens after the third glass. But, if I was your real date, I would definitely stay for a fourth and you would probably get to kiss me at the end of the night simply for how good that meal was.”

The words fell from your lips so easily that it shocked you and you hoped that the playful tone of your voice wouldn’t scare him off. You gathered yourself before turning back to look at him. He was still sitting at the table, chair pushed back with one arm over the back of it. The way he was looking at you was lethal, eyes drinking you in as you stood in his kitchen. You couldn’t tell if you were imagining the tension or it was real.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said finally. You grabbed your bag from the counter and pulled it over your shoulder as you headed for the door. Nate stood then to walk you out, pulling the door open as you slipped into your sneakers. “It was delicious.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to cook something actually good,” he said. “Poor girl would’ve been eating chicken and vegetables or pasta if you hadn’t come by.”

“Can’t let that happen, can we?” you asked. “Let me know how dinner goes.”

Nate leaned down, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you into a warm embrace. You melted into his arms as yours came up and around his neck. For a moment, the two of you just stood there in each other’s arms. You wondered if he could feel the beat of your chest again him. It sped up as his hands flattened against your back, crossing over each other to engulf you completely.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he said. He leaned his cheek on the top of your head and his chest rumbled beneath your own cheek as he spoke. “You know that, right?”

Your blinked away tears before he couldn’t notice then and nodded in response to his question.

When he pulled back, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek and his lips caught the corner of your mouth. An electric shock coursed through your bloodstream and you pulled back quick before offering one last smile and tossing a goodbye over your shoulder.

---

Nate called you the next Friday night with plans for Saturday.

“Mel and Gabe invited a bunch of the guys over and she told me I should see what you were doing tomorrow.” he said. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you much since last week. The guys would love to meet you.”

“Meet me?” you asked. “So, it’ll be more than just the ones I know?”

“A few more,” he answered with a laugh. “They’ll love you, okay? I’ll be at your place to get you at 5:30.”

It was the first time you were going to see him since you made dinner together last Friday. You exchanged a few texts throughout the week, but nothing of substance. You knew his dinner date went well, though you didn’t know to what extent. You found yourself wondering if she stayed for that additional glass of wine after dinner, or if she stayed for the night after.

He showed up to your apartment wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. You welcomed him in while you went back to your room to get your heels on. He gaped at the dress you were wearing as soon as you had your back to him. His eyes wandered over your curves as you bent to grab your heels from the floor in your bedroom. When your dress slid up your thighs, he had to force himself to look away.

You tried to get more details about his dinner date out of him on the way to Mel’s, but he kept quiet. She liked dinner, she stayed for an extra glass of wine, and then she went home at the end of the night. An invisible weight lifted from your shoulders upon hearing she didn’t stay the night and you settled back into his passenger seat.

Nate noticed the way you relaxed into the seat and tore his eyes from the road for just a moment to sneak a peek at you. You were watching the world go by from the window, unaware that he was even looking at you. When he turned his attention back to the road, all he could think about was his sweaty palms and accelerated heartrate. Why did he care so much about what you thought?

Everyone was already at the house when you pulled up. The two of you walked up the driveway, his hand against your lower back much like it had been in the florist. Mel opened the door, lunging to sweep you into her arms and whisk you to the kitchen, her husband and your, well, Nate left behind.

“Thanks for having me, Mel.”

She handed you a drink complete with a salted rim and said, “I’m glad Nate asked if you could come.”

“Nate asked?” you repeated. She affirmed with a nod and ushered you to join the others in the living room while she and Gabe finished dinner.

You swore half the team was there, which meant not one seat was open on their couch. As you passed Nate, he grabbed your hand and sat you on the arm of his chair. He pulled your legs over his lap and began introducing you to the boys you didn’t already know.

You caught Cale’s eyes and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one making note of the lack of space between you two. Though you weren’t technically sitting in his lap, it still felt a little inappropriate. Nate’s hand was like fire where it rested against your thigh and you had to remind yourself to stop peeking at the placement.

Nate lied about your invitation to dinner, and for what? He could’ve just invited you himself instead of disguising it as a joint decision between him and Mel. What was he so afraid of that he couldn’t man up and admit he wanted you there? Better yet, why didn’t he ask Gianna?

You somehow ended up seated away from Nate at the dinner table. Cale settled in on one side of you and EJ occupied the other. Across from you sat JT and Tyson, bickering as always. You don’t know how you ended up separated from Nate, but you welcomed it because you needed the breathing room.

The meal was delicious, but Nate couldn’t even enjoy it because you were so far away. He was going to get fucking whiplash because of the way he kept looking back to see who you were talking to or hear what you were laughing at. How did he even end up this far down from you?

On the other hand, he couldn’t stop the smile that kept creeping up to his lips when he saw you with his teammates. They loved you, probably almost as much as he did, and he was proud to have you by his side that night. But then came the harsh reality that you weren’t actually his to show off.

When the party relocated, he made sure to slide up next to you on the way to the couch. EJ’s laughter mocked him, but you didn’t catch on to his teammate’s playful ribbing. With Gabe and Mel’s eyes in the room, he didn’t pull you over his lap and opted to lower his arm over the back of the couch instead. There were just inches between your skin and his but, after having you on his lap earlier, it felt like miles.

Drinking games were played, stories were shared, and you all left the house with full bellies and large smiles. Nate was driving, so he eased up on the drinks after dinner. You, on the other hand, were feeling just as free as you did after three glasses of wine at his place last week, and feeling daring enough to ask him the question that’s been on your mind all night.

“Why did you tell me that Mel asked you to invite me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you invited me, you said that Mel told you to,” you explained in a slow voice as if you were breaking the situation down to a child. “But she said that you asked if you could invite me.”

“Why does it matter where the invite actually came from?” he asked. A slight panic was rising in his chest because he didn’t have an answer for you. This wasn’t supposed to come back around to you. “Everybody wanted you here anyway.”

“Why didn’t you ask Gianna?” you asked, stepping down to join him on the path to the driveway. He rolled his eyes at this, and you noted it because though you’d done it to him many times, he’d never done it to you. He began walking, so you followed. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Because I didn’t want to introduce her to everyone yet,” he answered. “You just fit in with us.”

Nate saw your face fall and decided not to push the conversation any farther. He said something wrong, but he didn’t know what. As far as he thought, he was complimenting you. He was complimenting how easy going you were, how his friends got along with you so easily. You were already a part of the group. It was great.

You continued along to the car in silence, not bothering to argue with him over a dumb comment. He wanted friends, so you were giving him friends, but the touches and the invite to team dinner was something more than friends. You needed distance. And he needed to figure his shit out, fast.

---

Lesson #3: Meeting the Friends

Something changed. When Nate dropped you off that night, he left you with a half-assed hug and a quiet goodbye. You couldn’t catch a wink of sleep that night because something changed. But then, Nate texted you tomorrow and tried to carry on as normal. Things weren’t normal.

And you knew that for sure when Nate didn’t invite you to EJ’s house the next weekend. Mel invited you instead and since you could never say no to Mel, you went. The thought of texting Nate to let him know passed briefly through your head, but the sheer fact that he hadn’t even bothered to talk to you about it in the first place was enough to decide against it.

When you entered EJ’s living room, you knew exactly why he hadn’t asked. Gianna was sitting on his lap, fingers curling through his hair as they talked. Anger rose in you no matter how hard you tried to suppress it. Just last week he said he didn’t want to bring her around and now she was here? Now she was here and he couldn’t even talk to you?

There was an uproar as Nate’s teammates noticed you standing in the doorway and Nate’s eyes cut to you in surprise. You lifted your hand in a pathetic wave before Cale was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen.

“Who’s the girl with Nate?”

“His new girlfriend,” you answered, hoping that you didn’t sound bitter. “I don’t even know if that’s the right title for her, but they’ve been on a few dates.”

Cale let out a soft hum, his tone indecipherable, just as Tyson entered the room.

“What’s the deal with Nate’s new girl?” he asked as soon as he saw it was just you and Cale in the room. When you didn’t answer, he nudged you for an answer.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, she’s no you.”

---

Nate couldn’t help but ask himself, “What the fuck are you doing?”

As you were pulled into his teammates arms, he watched and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up and hug you too or if he just wanted to disappear. When Gianna’s fingers gripped his bicep, he decided he wanted the latter.

That’s when you looked at him, of course, and the smile that was on yours lips faded just a bit. At least, that’s what he thought. You lifted your hand in a wave before Cale was looping his arm around your shoulders and directing you towards the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Gianna asked, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He looked up at her with a simple answer. “One of our friends.”

Gianna kissed him and for the first time since he met you, Nate thought about what it would be like to kiss you instead. He brought her to EJ’s in a pathetic attempt to right the way he was feeling about you, but it only made it worse.

---

“Nate was weird last night,” Mel murmured after Cycle the next morning. You were waiting for her to say something. Since all the guys made comments the night before, you knew Mel was next. “Did you guys fight?”

“Fight? Me and Nate?” you repeated, stalling for time. “We didn’t fight.”

“What did you think of his girlfriend?”

“I actually didn’t get to talk to her,” you answered. You shrugged, giving the illusion that you didn’t care all that much even though you were fuming. After all the help you’d given him, he couldn’t be bothered to introduce you to her? And that wasn’t all. He hardly spoke to you all night, only entertaining conversations with you when someone else was around. You ended up spending most of the night with EJ.

“My sitter just bailed for tomorrow.” She’d been tapping away at her phone for a few minutes, no doubt panicking to Gabe. You watched her a moment longer as you wondered what her plans were for the next day. Then, it occurred to you.

“There’s a game tomorrow, right?” you asked. She nodded, still typing out messages to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “I can watch Linnea tomorrow. Don’t worry about finding a sitter.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She waved you off absentmindedly and continued talking, “Besides, I thought Nate had a ticket for you or something. Didn’t he ask you to go?”

“Tomorrow?” you said incredulously. “No, absolutely not. Isn’t it like a WAG game? It would make no sense for me to be there.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I just thought that he told Gabe,” she paused and noticed your set jaw. You were clearly not Nate’s biggest fan at the moment, so she decided to tread carefully. “You know what? Nevermind. I would love it if you could watch Linnea.”

---

As expected, Linnea was an angel the next day. You spent the time lounging in their living room with the game on TV while you played together. She took a bottle in the middle of the game and you brought her to her nursery once she’d been burped to rock her to sleep. But, you couldn’t quite peel yourself from the chair to put her in her crib. She was sleeping so peacefully and for the first time in a while you felt calm, so you stayed with her in your arms long after she’d fallen asleep.

You didn’t know what time it was when Gabe and Mel got home, but you heard their car doors close. You waited for them to happen upon you in the nursery, so you were surprised when it was Nate that knocked at the door.

“Hi,” he whispered, stepping into the room. He studied the decorations as he approached the rocking chair you were sitting in. When he stepped up beside you and admired Linnea, you tried not to look up at him. You knew it wouldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach, but you did it anyway. He was smiling down at the peanut in your arms. “Mel and Gabe are in the kitchen. They saw you on the baby monitor and told me to come get you.”

“Okay, I’ll put her down and meet you in there.”

“I can wait for you,” he said, stepping away. You stood, cradling Linnea to the crib and then craning to put her down in the center. Nate was watching you intently from the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face.

He stepped out into the hallway first, but he wasn’t walking towards the kitchen. He stood, waiting for you to stepped out into the hallway and look at him. You gave him a half-assed smile, still feeling a little hurt that things had been so weird between you two, and he asked, “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine,” you answered. He wasn’t convinced, but you reached up and shoved him lightly to get him to move down the hall. He didn’t budge, hand coming up to grasp yours against his chest. The beating of his heart sat right at your fingertips. “How was your game?”

“It was good,” he answered. “I wish you were there.”

“Well, then, you should’ve asked me to come,” you said, quite boldly. His lips parted, but whether it was to speak or not you wouldn’t know because you were continuing down the hallway without him.

You slipped into the kitchen to find Mel, leaving the men on the couch in the living room. The moment you stepped in, she was turning to greet you with a smile. You hissed, “Are you behind this?”

“I mentioned you were babysitting, his eyes lit up, and Gabe was the one to invite him over.”

“Team effort?”

She feigned an apologetic smile before ushering you out to rejoin the boys. Gabe got the fire going and Mel curled in his chest once he settled back on the couch. You sat on the other end, legs extended towards Nate in the corner. You felt his eyes whenever there was a suspended silence. You knew he was thinking about you, and selfishly you relished in the attention.

“YN, did you know that Nate’s parents were visiting next weekend?” Gabe asked during a lull in conversation. Nate glared at him, but the Swede happily ignored his buddy at the center of the couch. His eyes cut to you.

“I didn’t,” you answered. “But that’ll be fun. I know how much you missed them.”

All he could offer was a stupid ‘yeah’ before Mel swooped in to save the entire group from a very awkward moment.

Nate was going to kill Gabe. He was going to kill Gabe, but first he had to make a decision. He knew exactly what he had to do. It felt like you were a thousand miles away, not only physically but emotionally. Gabe should’ve kept his mouth shut. He was going to have you meet his parents, he just hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. Now, he looked like a dick. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I was going to tell you about my parents,” he said, practically chasing you down the driveway after you ducked out while he was in the bathroom. To his surprise, you stopped walking and waited for him to catch up. “Seriously.”

“It’s getting hard to believe that, Nate,” you said. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

Nate felt his heart sink. He began to rack his brain for a way to salvage the conversation, but it was too late by the time you reached your car. You stopped before opening the door to look up at him.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“I just—I know you’re upset with me,” he began. “I want to make it better. We haven’t really talked since EJ’s, and that’s on me.”

“Were you going to invite me today?” you asked. He gave you a curious look. “To the game. Mel mentioned something about it at Cycle. That you told Gabe you were thinking about giving your ticket to me.”

Nate ran his hand over his face. The Landeskogs had really gotten him into some trouble here, and he wasn’t sure it was accidental.

“You’re the one I wanted at the game,” he admitted. “I wanted to invite you, but I knew how bad it would look if I didn’t ask Gianna.”

“So, you invited her,” you concluded.

“No.”

You looked at him in shock, mouth agape, and asked, “You’d rather no one go than give the ticket to her?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he grumbled. You threw your arms up in surrender, hoping the words would sink in. “I don’t know, YN.”

“Yes, you do,” you argued. He kept his mouth shut at that, knowing you had enough. You sighed heavily, allowing the conversation to roll off your back. “When are your parents going to be here?”

“Saturday morning.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“They’ll be at my game in the afternoon and then I was getting us a reservation for dinner,” he trailed off only momentarily. “I haven’t made it yet because I was going to invite you, but Gabe beat me to the punch in there.”

“What about Gianna?”

“YN, if I didn’t want her at my game, why would I want her to meet my parents?” he asked. He made it sound like you were asking the stupidest question in the world. But, he wasn’t answering the most important one. Was he breaking up with her? You wanted to ask, but part of you didn’t want the disappointment. He worried while you thought.

“I’m around on Saturday,” you answered. He smiled, and you forced one back. You hated the feeling between you two. The air between you had never been so stuffy and you wanted to clear it. “Anything else you wanna tell me before the Landeskogs do? Is Sid actually your long-distance girlfriend?”

Nate laughed loudly as he stepped away. He answered your question cryptically, “No, nothing to tell you right now. Not yet.”

---

Lesson #4: Meeting the Family

You planned to meet Nate at his apartment before dinner since his parents had gone to the hotel upon arrival. On the way, you picked up a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. You were taught to do little things for important people, and anyone who was important to Nate felt important to you. You tried not to think about the implications of having dinner with his parents, but it was hard to shake the nerves.

“What’s this?” he asked as soon as he opened the door. His finger slid over the logo on the top of the pastry box, eyes catching on the word bakery. When he looked up at you, his eyes were shining. “For me?”

“For your family,” you told him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I thought maybe you heard about my break up and you were trying to comfort me,” he said like it wasn’t breaking news. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.”

“You broke up?” you asked, following him to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as he put the pastries on the counter. He nodded simply as he cleared some clutter from the countertop. You could see his muscles moving beneath his navy polo. Guiltily, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the way the sleeves hugged his biceps or the wide expanse of his back and shoulders. “What happened, Nate?”

“We can talk about it later, alright?”

“Are you single or not?” you asked. Nate caught the frustration in your tone and he’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to kiss you right then. You needed to know what was going on with him, and that made him feel good about whatever was going on between you two.

Nate started to exit the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway beside you. You were crowded against his chest as he smiled down at you and answered, “Yeah, I’m single.”

You released a breath once he stepped out of the doorway. He slipped his shoes on while you stood nearly the front door. He caught the look on your face, a little scrunched up as you spaced out. You were thinking too much, worrying about what happened with him and Gianna. When he walked back over to the front door, he took you by the hips and said, “We can talk about it later, if you want. Right now, I just want to be with you and my family.”

---

“I’m nervous,” you admitted as Nate pulled up to valet outside the restaurant. He looked at you in shock. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he promised. He reached over and dropped his hand to your thigh. You pouted at him, and his first instinct was to lean over the center console and kiss it off your lips. He knew better than to risk it all just before dinner, so he grabbed your hand and dropped a kiss to your palm instead. “You’ll be fine. No need to be nervous.”

A heavy sigh left your lips as he stepped out of the car. He rounded the front and opened the passenger door for you, grabbing your hand as you stepped out. After he handed his key to the valet, he laced his hands in yours and led you into the restaurant.

The MacKinnons were already at the table that had been reserved for them. There was uproar of cheers when they saw Nate walk in. You stole a peek at his face and the pure joy on it set your heart aflame. He dropped your hand as you approached the table to hug his parents and sister. They introduced themselves to you as well, sweeping you up in tight embraces like they had with Nate.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” they spoke as they hugged you.

Nate pulled your chair out from across his mother and then situated himself beside you. The menus were passed out and Nate whispered suggestions in your ear while his family members debated their own meals. She took the time to calm her nervous. Parents loved her, so there was no reason to freak out. Eventually the drinks were handed out, orders were taken, and the chaos at the table stopped.

“Now, how’d you two meet again?” his mom asked. You looked at each other, stupidly, both stammering in response until Nate got his shit together.

“We met through friends,” he answered simply. Then, his lips curled up and he said, “She yelled at me.” You dropped your face into your hands, embarrassed by the picture he was painting of you, but they took it in stride, laughing at your expression. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He continued, “As you guys know, I’ve been very unlucky in my personal life.” Sarah snorted at this. Their mother smacked her knee as a scolding. “I literally suck at being romantic and all the guys were joking around about it after I’d just been broken up with. YN called me out, so I asked her to teach me how to be romantic.”

“Well, what’d you learn?”

“How to cook a meal other than my pregame types, and I also have a new favorite florist,” he said. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and flipped it open to slip out their business card. You didn’t realize he grabbed one. “There are some other things, like her wine rule.”

“Wine rule?”

“Nothing good ever happens after the third glass of wine,” you explained. They laughed at that, though they seemed bewildered by your reasoning.

Nate elaborated, “It just means that if your date stays for a fourth glass, you’ll probably get lucky.”

This earned him a smack on the arm from both his sister and yourself.

Nate’s family was just as kind as he was and it was clear how much they all adored each other. You fit in seamlessly, at least that’s how it felt, and when they asked the waitress to take a picture of them, Nate tugged you into his side to keep you in the frame.

“Take one without me,” you urged him. He just shook his head, gazing down at the picture on his phone. He passed it off to his parents and sister for approval. “Nate.”

“I want you in the picture,” he whispered to you. His hand came up to the back of your neck and he pulled you in to place a chaste kiss to your temple. He pulled away, like kissing you in public and on the forehead was normal now, and asked, “How was your food?”

When you got back to his place after dinner, you presented his mother with the pastries and earned a hug and kiss on the cheek as a thank you. They settled into the kitchen as he made drinks, chatting as a family about the people back home and his life in Denver. You slipped out to go to the bathroom, and give them some alone time.

“I like her,” you overheard his mother say as soon as you slipped out of the kitchen. You slowed your steps on your pursuit to the bathroom even though you knew it would be best to keep walking. You couldn’t help but be a little nosy.

“That’s good to hear,” Nate said. You smiled to yourself. “I like her, too.”

---

Nate’s family only stayed for another hour before you were bidding them farewell from his front door. They squeezed you and thanked you for the pastries, and then began inviting you to visit before Nate had to shut it down. Your heart felt full after spending the night with them, but sitting alone in Nate’s apartment in anticipation of what was to come was scaring the shit out of you.

Your hands were a little shaky and your palms were definitely sweaty. There was change coming, change that was already present, and you were both excited and terrified for it. Nate reentered the apartment not long after. When he saw you sitting on the couch, he released a breath he’d been holding.

“Are you going to stay for another glass?” he asked after locking the door behind him. “That one’s only your second.”

You eyed his smile, heart beat stuttering a bit beneath his gaze, and lifted the glass to your lips to finished what was left. You nodded and followed him into the kitchen. While he filled both your glass and his, you picked yourself up onto the counter like you’d done so many times before.

“I did a bad thing,” he murmured after handing your glass back to you. You raised a brow at him as he reached over to one of the cabinets and opened it to reveal two pastries in a Ziploc bag. “I stole two of them from my mom.”

“Nate!” you exclaimed. He chuckled at your exasperation. “I can bring you to that bakery whenever you want! Your parents don’t live here! It was a gift!”

“And they have the other eleven pastries,” he argued. “They’re not going to miss two.”

Reluctantly, but still with a smile, you took a pastry from his hand. You bit into it at the same time, eyes lighting up at the taste. At the sight of each other’s faces, you were doubled over in laughter before you had the chance to swallow what was in your mouth. You looked away from him to regain composure and only looked back when you were sure you wouldn’t choke.

“Those were fucking good.”

“Only the best for your mom.”

“Thank you,” he spoke. “For the pastries and for hanging out with my family today. I’m sure you had other things to do, but it meant a lot. They’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“I had a lot of fun with them,” you said. His smile was soft, shy even, and he watched you carefully as you sipped from the glass in your hand. “It was nice to meet the people who made you who you are.”

“Wait until you meet Sid.”

You decided to move from the kitchen to the living room in favor of more comfortable seating. He reached his hand out behind his back, and you linked your fingers with his lazily so he could lead you to the couch. You slowed to a stop as he sat down, legs spread to pull you between them. Your hesitation caused a look of confusion to flash over his features.

“Can you tell me what’s going on inside your head now?” you asked, placing your glass down on the table beside the arm of the couch. He followed suit, then placed his hand delicately at your hip to urge you closer.

“Sure, I can,” he answered. He pulled you into his lap. You looped her arms around his shoulders as he flattened one hand against your back and curled the other around your thigh. “I don’t want to waste those romance rules on someone I don’t really like all that much.”

“You really didn’t like her?” you asked meekly. Of fucking course he didn’t like her, you were thinking. You were in his lap, not her, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Why?”

“The only reason I looked forward to going on dates with her was because I got to spend time with you before,” he confessed. You felt it all through your body. “I broke up with her the morning after we were at Gabe’s together. After you called me out on my bullshit, I knew I was being stupid.”

“Why me, though?”

“Because you deserve the world and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

It was only natural for you to lean in and capture his lips with yours. After all this time spent waiting and beating around the bush, you didn’t want to wait a second more. It was passionate, and new, and exciting. His hands held you close while your fingers curled into the back of his hair, but he wasn’t close enough.

You swung your leg over to straddle him, not caring that you were wearing a dress with just panties underneath. His hands flew to your hips as you grinded against him. You gasped against his lips at the friction as he held you tighter, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you covered his mouth with yours again. He guided your hips to grind against him once more, but you braced your hands against his chest to push away.

“I’m not staying for a fourth glass,” you said breathlessly. He smiled up at you, eyes falling to your lips that were red and plump from kissing him. Kissing him! He leaned in, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, and pulled you down by the back of the neck.

He murmured through his kisses, “You didn’t even finish your third.”

At the challenge in his voice, you reached over for the glass on the side table and finished what was left. He held you close, laughing against the crook of your neck. You giggled along with him until you felt his lips against your skin again and a gasp fell from your lips.

“You gotta leave before I pour number four,” he warned, breath ghosting over your neck. He kissed your neck again, this time sucking lightly enough to earn a strangled moan. You pushed back against his chest and stood, flustered as you adjusted your dress and your hair. Nate couldn’t help but smile as he watched you cross the room for your purse. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his lap to hide his hard-on.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked as you put your heels on the end of the couch. He was admiring your flushed cheeks and your wild hair as you busied yourself. You fastened the strap on each heel before looking back at him. It took everything in you to not go back over there and unbutton the rest of his shirt.

“Nothing,” you answered as you stood. He followed suit, adjusting his dress pants just a bit so he was comfortable and making you giggle in the process. He stepped up beside you and pulled you against him again. He placed one, two, three kisses against your neck then your jaw then your lips.

“Let me make you dinner.”

---

Nate wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself. He knew that the second you walked out of your room in that little black dress, but he was really trying to be on his best behavior. It was technically only your first date and he wanted to impress you. You just weren’t helping very much. As soon as you were in his car, you were grabbing his hand and lacing it with yours to drop them into your lap.

He was a little nervous that he wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. He was sure that he’d fuck up somewhere and you’d go running. And, truthfully, you could tell that he was overthinking every little thing he did. The tension in his shoulders as he moved about the kitchen to prepare everything for dinner was clear.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked.

He gave you the most pathetic shrug and shake of the head as he tried to wave off your concern with a soft, “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” you called him out. “You look stressed.”

“I mean, I am a little stressed,” he admitted, diverting his eyes from yours as he headed over to the fridge. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Before he knew it, you were standing between him and the refrigerator. You flattened your hands against his chest and slid them up until your hands were linked behind his neck. A slight tug on him was enough to get him to kiss you. He finally relaxed, arms dropping from the refrigerator door to grip your hips.

“You’re not going to fuck this up.”

“I don’t have a very good track record.”

“You do with me,” you said softly. He looked skeptical, not quite understanding what you meant, so you pressed against him as his arms enveloped you. “You gave me a sunflower the third time we were ever around each other. You’ve cooked me dinner already. Sure, it was under different circumstances, but it counts. Nate, you know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t overthink it.”

“Go sit,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You managed to calm his nerves better than anyone he’d ever known in a matter of seconds. “I’ll plate dinner and then I have to grab something for you, okay?”

Nate entered the dining room a minute later, placing both plates down across from each other before disappearing to grab wine glasses and another bottle of wine. Then, he was off down the hall to his bedroom. Your eyes followed him curiously, wondering what else he could possibly have up his sleeve. He’d already impressed you enough by cooking a meal you didn’t teach him.

“Oh, wow,” you breathed out when he appeared in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers. “Nate.”

“For you.”

You stood to take them from his hands and kiss him in thanks. When you pulled away, your fingers danced along the petals of the roses tucked between the sunflowers and baby’s breath Nate had grown to love too.

---

You filled your glass for a fourth time as inconspicuously as possible after your last bite of dinner, but Nate caught your eye over the bottle as you poured and you knew he knew what you were doing. He tried to stifle his smile unsuccessfully, picking up his own glass to cover it. One sip and his third glass was done.

“More?” you asked, extending the bottle in his direction.

“Four glasses?” he teased. “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, more for me then.”

Your voice was low, eyes dark as they settled on him, and suddenly he was lunging forward to grab the bottle and pour another glass for himself. Your giggles filled the room. He wanted them to echo off his walls forever.

“I want to take a picture with you,” he said. You gave him a curious look, though your stomach was doing cartwheels at the suggestion. “I keep thinking about your empty picture frame and I want you to have something to put in it.”

“We can take a selfie,” you suggested. He was quick to shake his head, pushing away from the table to take your hand and lead you to the patio. He pulled the phone from his back pocket and set it up against the couch. He removed the glass from your hand to place it out of view of the camera.

“Now, this is quite the set up,” you murmured as he moved furniture out of the way so there was ample space to take the photo. Denver’s city lights were sure to be the perfect backdrop and having Nate beside you wasn’t too bad either.

“Well, it has to be perfect if it’s going in your office.”

“How do you know I’ll even want to put it in the frame?” you asked. Nate pressed the timer and turned to walk back at you, smirk on his lips. You were teasing him, but you were playing innocent with those doe eyes. He curled around you, arms pulling your back against his chest to pose for the picture.

“After tonight, I’m sure you will,” he murmured in your ear. “Smile.”

The audacity of a man who tells you to smile after igniting your entire body in goosebumps.

The camera went off in a sequence, five pictures for the one timer. You smiled twice before he reached up to turn your face to his for a kiss. The sound of the shutter had you pulling away from his lips with a giggle. He smiled down at you for the next photo as laughter spilled from your lips, and then he was kissing you again.

When you finally pulled away from him, all giggly and handsy, Nate dragged you along with him to his phone. He curled around you as he flipped through the photos, each one cuter than the one before.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t put that in your office?” he asked. His breath tickled the back of your neck. You were just trying to tease him before, but with the lack of space between you and the way he was looking at you in these photos, you just couldn’t tease him anymore. His fingers trailed up your arms, goosebumps rising in their wake once again.

“How’s that fourth glass of wine treating you?” you asked. Nate tucked the phone in his back pocket as you turned to face him. His hands were on you once they were free, curling over the curve of your ass.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into it,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m trying to be good, but it’s impossible to keep my hands to myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?” you against, arching your body to press against him. You could feel him hard against your hip and knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. You pressed your lips to his and, as you pulled away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it.

A growl ripped through his chest as he lifted you into his arms. Your legs came to wrap around his waist as he carried you into the apartment and slammed the patio door shut behind him. He dropped you onto the bed, one hand coming to tug you towards the end by the ankle. His hands spread your legs so he could step between them and they slid up your thigh, pushing your dress up as they went.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured in your ear as his hands reached your hip, dress bunching around his wrists and revealing your lace panties to him. “Stealing touches in a crowded room just doesn’t compare.”

You lifted your arms as he guided the dress over your body and tossed it to the floor. At the sight of your match set, Nate pushed you up the bed and crawled over you. He peppered kisses along your skin from your collarbone to your chest. He worked his way down your stomach until reaching the top of your underwear. In on swift movement, your thong was on the floor and he was spreading your legs.

“So pretty,” he murmured, fingers spreading your folds. You moaned out as he slipped his finger in. “You like my fingers in your pussy, baby?” You could only manage to nod because he’d already slipped a second finger in. He curled them while he pressed a kiss against your inner thigh. “How about my tongue?”

Nate licked a stripe up your center and you gasped, hands flying down to curl into his hair as he continued to eat you out. He sucked on your pussy, continuing to thrust his fingers into and curl. He dragged moans out of you, obscene words dripped from your lips, and the filthy sound of his tongue filled the room.

“You taste so good.”

You tried to grind against face for some more friction, but he held your hips down and continued. You whined, tugging his hair and arching your back as he brought you to orgasm.

“Nate, I’m gonna cu—” you moaned, toes curling at the feet of his lips around you. Suddenly, cool air shocked your core and your orgasm retreated. You sighed as your whole body sank into the bed at the absence of stimulation. Nate crawled up your buddy, licking a stripe up your neck before attaching his lips to yours.

“Sorry, baby,” he said. He nudged your knees apart and situated himself between them, hand falling to his dick as he lined it up with your entrance. “I just need you to cum on my cock.” You moaned as he pushed his head between your folds. “YN, as long as you’re mine, I’ll never make you feel like you don’t deserve all the most romantic things.”

You answered with a moan as he bottomed out inside you. He watched your face as you adjusted to his size and smiled as you whimpered, pulling your teeth between your lips. You felt so good around him and as he began to pull out and thrust in again, your nails dug into his biceps.

You knew he was trying to take his time, but you could hardly take it. As far as you were concerned, Nate would have all the time in the world to take it slow with you. Tonight was not that night.

“Fuck me harder.”

When you sounded like that beneath him, how could he say no? His previously slow and calculated thrusts became sloppy at your request. He relished in the sound of your moaning and the way you called his name like a prayer. You were unraveling beneath him and he wanted to get you there. He adjusted your leg over his shoulder so he could hit a new angle.

“Come on, baby,” he moaned against your lips. “I wanna see you cum for me.”

He reached down and placed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in circles as he pumped into you. You screamed out and your body arched as your orgasm ripped through you. Nate pumped into you a few moments more as he chased his high while listening to your whimpers. He spilled out into his condom as a string of curses left his lips, then collapsed onto of you to catch his breath.

Your fingers immediately found his hair as your breathing evened out together. His body was hot on yours and a sheen of sweat covered both of you. Nate’s fingers curled around your waist and into your skin, squeezing you like he needed to get closer but couldn’t. Finally, he pulled out of you and sat back on his knees.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, hands rubbing up your stomach to cup your breasts. You shivered at his touch. “I never want to leave this bed.”

“Not even for shower sex?”

“Okay, maybe for shower sex,” he murmured. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder to carry you to the bathroom.

---

A few hours (and orgasms later), you were clothed in Nate’s sweats and t-shirt and waiting for him beneath the covers in bed. He was cleaning up the glasses you left on the patio and running the dishwasher, though he was quick to finish it up and return to you. You looked so cute propped up against the headboard that he couldn’t stop smiling as he got ready for bed. He pulled on a pair of sweats, but remained topless as he slid under the covers. Instead of pulling you down to rest on his chest, he dropped his head onto your stomach and pulled you tightly to him. Your fingers carded through his hair.

“Thank you for tonight, Nate,” you spoke. “This was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“I’m counting this as our fourth date,” he responded. You laughed at him, slapping his bicep lightly at his teasing. “Let’s be honest, I was trying to impress you this entire time anyway.”

“Consider me impressed.”

Nate pulled you down to eye level with him, heads on your respective pillows, and then turned to shut the lamp off beside him. When he turned back, he pulled you against his chest. With your ear to his chest, you listened to his heartbeat and his breathing as it evened out. His fingers scratched your back ever-so-slightly as if soothing you to sleep.

“Are you happy?” he asked. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. Could he not tell how happy you were?

“Of course, I am,” you answered. “Are you?”

“How could I not be?” he asked. “You’re so far out of my league.”

“No, I’m not,” you groaned. You covered your blushing face with your hands at his words, hoping that he couldn’t feel the beat of your heart. Nate was quick to tug them down, holding them against his own chest. He didn’t care if you felt how hard his heart was beating. In fact, he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know the effect you had on him.

“You feel my heart, right?” he asked. You nodded. “You did that. You do that to me every single time I’m around you.” Your eyes began to water and you tried to pull your hand away from his to wipe the water pooling in the corner. Nate grabbed both your hands with one of his and wiped it with his own thumb. “I’ll never let you go to bed thinking I don’t love you. I’m going to shower you with flowers from our favorite florist and buy you pastries from that little shop you like, and I’ll never make you feel like you need to stifle yourself and who you are on account of me.”

“Nate.”

“Just listen to me, alright?” he asked, voice soft. You nodded. “Your ex stuffed you down and he didn’t appreciate you. That’ll never happen with me, and if you feel like it is, you need to tell me, just like you did when we first met.”

You tried to stammer through some type of coherent response, but words failed, so you kissed him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him and your legs intertwined. He was intoxicating, you couldn’t get enough, but he felt just the same. He wondered how anyone had let you go before and simultaneously thanked them for the gift that was you.

That night, Nate vowed he’d never let you go to bed unhappy and he’d never let you feel any less than perfect. He waited forever for a partner like you, honest and kind, and he finally had it in his hands, in his bed. And you promised that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved him. You just knew it.

#nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon fic #nate mackinnon #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

never isn’t an option - pt. 1

summary: you’re tired of hiding how you feel from Matthew, so you risk everything for a chance at happiness

word count: 5.2k

warnings: a couple of swears, allusions to sex, angst

note from the writer: I'd like to thank @hockeymenorattractiveboys and @spookymakar for listening to me ramble about how to format this. I’d also like you all to let me know what you think :) please don’t hate me :)

read part two here

If there was a time that you ever turned down the chance to spend time with Matthew Tkachuk, something was wrong. He was your person, the one you texted when you had good news and a bad day. The one that could cheer you up with a grin and a terrible joke. He kissed your cheeks to dry your tears and held you close and told you how much he loved you every day.

He was the closest thing to a relationship you had.

But Matthew Tkachuk didn’t do relationships.

See, he did all of those things from the comfort of a best friend position. He’d make you wear his jersey to games and facetime you late at night while he’s on roadies but he still went home with other girls while you smiled and laughed with his teammates as if your heart didn’t walk out of the bar with him, chasing after whoever was lucky enough to get him for the night.

And the next day, like nothing ever happened, he’d show up at your door with breakfast in hand and bruises on his neck that you so desperately wanted to be the cause of.

It was a brutal cycle, and you were nearing the end of your rope, if you were being honest with yourself.

Still, when you got the text saying that since the boys only had a late practice the next day, everyone was going out, you knew you’d let Matt convince you to go. And he didn’t really have to do much convincing, he just flashed you a smile and you were getting ready to head out.

Pregame was at your apartment, for whatever reason, and you were putting on the finishing touches as you listened to the rambunctious hockey players that took over your kitchen. You opted to ignore the sound of glass breaking, followed by several of the boys yelling at Sam. Instead, you sighed and started fixing your hair in the mirror.

“Damn, maybe I might have to just take you home tonight.” A voice called, and you would have jumped at the sudden sound but you had seen Matt slip into your room in the mirror’s reflection. Stomach twisting with nerves and the desire to tell him ‘please’, you rolled your eyes. It was the same comment each night, he’d compliment you and shower you with attention until it was time for him to find the night’s hookup.

“What’d Sam break?” You opted to ask, ignoring both his comment and the way his arms wrapped around your middle from behind you. Matt chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder while swaying slightly. He was studying you in the mirror, you could feel his gaze raking up and down your reflection and to try and ground yourself, you rested your hands atop his forearms.

“Just a glass.” He hummed after a moment and you had nearly forgotten the question entirely. You sighed in response, knowing you had to go out and clean up before someone hurt themselves. As if anticipating that you were about to leave, Matt’s grip tightened around you, your heart skipping a beat in sync with the action. “Johnny’s got it. He knows where the broom is.”

“Well, we can’t just stay in my bedroom all night.” You chuckled, and though you had been the one to make the first move to leave you found yourself relaxing into his hold. You caught a glimpse of Matt’s face in the mirror, a wicked grin on his face and it was then you realized what you had said. “Not like that, Matthew.”

“You said it, not me.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the junction of where your neck met your shoulder before standing to his full height. You pushed away the feeling of butterflies in your stomach at the contact, and instead focused on not tripping over your own feet as Matt spun you around to face him, his hands settling on your hips to steady you. “You look good tonight, like really good.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You smiled so wide your cheeks ached, hands busying themselves by needlessly brushing across the shirt covering the broad expanse of his chest. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Is that why you’re feeling me up?” He questioned, a lightness to his voice that let you know he was just teasing. You rolled your eyes, hoping you didn’t look as affected as you were by his hands sliding from where they previously were on your waist to their new spot a little too low on your back for being just friends.

“You started it, Tkachuk.” You retorted. This is how it always was with Matt. He’d tease and flirt and have you nearly falling at his feet and just when you thought that maybe your feelings were reciprocated he’d turn around go home with someone that was decidedly not you.

“And I can finish it, too.” He hummed, leaning down to speak directly in your ear as your eyes fluttered shut.

Cocky, you thought. Still, a chill ran down your spine and you felt yourself keening into his touch. You weren’t sure whether or not to scream or be thankful for the door opening just then.

“Come on, lovebirds. We’d like to get to the bars at some point.” Rasmus jeered playfully, his grin wide and showing that he knew exactly what he was saying. Matt groaned, and without turning to look at his teammate he flipped him off. Taking the chance while Matt was distracted and only had one hand on you, you slipped out of his grip.

“Not a word.” You mumbled to Rasmus as you slipped past the defenseman. He chuckled, raising his hands in innocence as if he hadn’t just made a comment about your feelings for his teammate. Besides Matthew, Rasmus was the one you were closest to on the team. One night, after a few too many drinks and having to watch Matt leave the bar with someone that wasn’t you, you confessed that you had feelings for him. You had sworn Rasmus to secrecy, and each day since then you had to put up with him urging you to confess to Matt himself.

Matt had been right, Johnny handled the mess and Sam apologized for breaking a glass. You waved him off, opting to take the shot that was being offered to you. It wasn’t healthy to mask your feelings for the curly haired menace that was finally retreating from your bedroom alongside Rasmus with alcohol—but it definitely made it easier to be in the same room as him.

You ended up being squished between Sam and Matt in one of the two Ubers ordered to get everyone from your apartment to the bar, and Matt’s arm wound around your waist to pull you closer to his side. As soon as you arrived at the bar, Matt slipped his hand in yours and used the connection to make sure you never strayed far from his side.

He was being more handsy than usual, tugging you into his chest at any given chance and setting his hand on your leg when sitting in the booth, and you weren’t the only one that noticed. Not only did you receive looks from his teammates, but their significant others who weren’t all accustomed to your odd relationship with Matt.

But then it happened. Like every time before, you could feel Matt’s attention slip from you. It was like clockwork, you knew you had at the very most three minutes after Matt first spotted his target for the night until he left you. And this time it was no different.

Of course, you thought, watching Matt cross the bar to greet the pretty blonde with a smile and one of his lines. Distantly, you heard your name being called, but it was only when you felt someone jab your side did you tear your gaze from Matt. It was Dillon, and he was giving you a sympathetic smile you really wished he wasn’t.

“What’s up?” You asked nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just been caught staring at the man who unknowingly held your heart flirt with someone else.

“He really does like you, you know.” Dillon told you, sounding a little too insightful for someone you had seen get checked into the boards only the night prior. You forced a laugh, the same one you always did whenever someone made a comment, whenever Matt told you about his sexcapades.

“He’s right, Matt’s just too dumb to know.” Sam butted in from across the table, taking a swig of his drink and succeeding in gaining the attention of the rest of the guys at the table. Your smile was too tight and too tiny and even the guys you weren’t as close with were able to see right through you. The last thing you needed was any of them trying to take a peek at the feelings you buried deep and kept hidden.

“I think I’m going to call it a night, early day tomorrow and all.” You lied. You had no plans until three in the afternoon, when you had promised your friend that you’d go shopping with her so she could find something to wear to her cousin’s wedding. You waved goodbye to the table and stopped at the bar to tell Rasmus you were heading out, and it was then that you were met with your next obstacle.

“There you are! This is Brooke.” Matt called cheerfully, waving you down as you tried to pass him and introduced you to the girl that had captured his attention. Your stomach twisted and tied itself up in knots, but no matter how sick you felt not a single part of you blamed her. After all, you desperately wanted to be in her place; she held Matt’s attention in a way that you could only hope for.

“It’s nice to meet you, but I was actually heading out.” You smiled sweetly, turning your gaze to Matt during the second half of your sentence. He pouted, and not in his over-the-top dramatic way you were used to seeing when you’d leave parties early, but a genuine frown.

“It’s too late for you to be going home alone, though.” He tried to reason, and though his attention was on you and that was truly all you ever wanted he still had a hand resting on Brooke’s leg as she sat at the bar. You opened your mouth to argue that you went home by yourself every time and that he never was around by the end of the night to watch, but a heavy body slid in beside you and clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe, man.” Rasmus promises, and you force a smile on your face. You feel nauseous, because it’s then that you realize you want nothing more than for Matthew to be the one to make sure you get home safe and it’s then that Matt takes a step closer to Brooke, hand rising just a few inches higher up her leg.

“Alright, talk to you guys later.” Matt says after a moment and he pulls Rasmus in for an abridged version of a bro hug, and you fully expected to just send him a wave and be on your way. Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in close, sealing your fate with a kiss to your hairline.

You smile politely at Brooke as a form of goodbye, but she was wearing an unimpressed expression while looking at Matt look at you. You weren’t sure why he so blatantly displayed affection towards you while trying to hookup with someone else, but you pushed that though deep, deep down and followed Rasmus out of the bar as he announced the car he ordered at some point arrived. The air was cold against your flushed skin and it was only after the bar was out of sight and you were secured in the backseat of the Uber did Rasmus speak.

“You’re going to have to stop doing this to yourself someday, you know.” His voice was quiet and kind, the opposite of what it was like on the ice, but you still felt like you were being scolded. When your only response was to nod and continue picking at your nails, he sighed. “You both are too stupid for your own good.”

“Well, that’s helpful.” You tried joking, but your voice was tight and you hated how pathetic you sounded. Rasmus let out a breathy chuckle, and you saw the Uber turn onto your street.

“It’s the truth.” He teased, and you rolled your eyes. The car was slowing to a stop in front of your building, and as much as you loved Rasmus, you were thankful for the chance to escape the conversation. “You’ve both been in love with each other since forever and neither of you are willing to admit it. So you pine after him and hurt your own feelings and he tries to find replacements for you, but they never last, because as you might know—they aren’t you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had made jokes about you and Matt, but that’s all they had been before. They were jokes. Now, though, he sounded so serious and as you searched his gaze you found not a single ounce of humor. Never had he been so direct and you felt as if his analysis had been broadcasted to the entire neighborhood instead of just you and the poor Uber driver who was waiting for you to get out.

“Goodnight, Rasmus.” You spoke quickly, gathering your things and climbing out of the car. He didn’t say anything else, just shot you a knowing look to tell you to get your shit together. He might’ve been right, but you were too caught off-guard to tell him that. So instead, you told him to text you when he got home safe and shut the door behind you.

Five days later, and you were still thinking about Rasmus’ comments.

You were thinking about it so much that at one in the morning, you found yourself anxiously pacing your kitchen. Your friend had fallen asleep on you, leaving you with the advice that you should just tell Matt how you feel. She reasoned that if his teammate told you he loved you, then chances are that he felt the same way. You argued that maybe he only said that to try and cheer you up.

You hated that she had reason on her side.

It was reason that had you, after your twentieth lap around your kitchen, pulling up Matt’s contact and dialling his number. You thought about texting him about your feelings, but that was way too impersonal. Throwing caution to the wind, you listened to the ringing of the phone, deciding that if he didn’t answer or you chickened out after hearing his voice, you’d simply tell him you meant to call your friend Mark but accidentally clicked on the contact for Matt.

“Hello?”

He sounded a little groggy, and you wondered if you had woken him up. Guilt shot through you, he had an early flight in the morning to the east coast and he needed his sleep. You were losing your nerve quickly, and if you didn’t say what you needed, then you’d never do it.

“Can I come over?” At least you got to the point.

“Yeah, of course.” He mumbled, sounding a little more awake. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding, and started to grab your keys. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m—yeah, good.” You couldn’t exactly say you were fine. You were incredibly stressed and more nervous than you had ever been, but you knew saying that without context would worry him. And you couldn’t give him the context over the phone.

“You sure?” He tried, clearly having picked up on the anxious edge to your voice. You nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, and slipped out of your apartment.

“Be there in fifteen, Matt.”

It was the longest fifteen minutes of your life.

By the time you reached his place and got past the doorman, who greeted you with a smile and knew you by name, you were ready to jump out of your skin. But Rasmus’ words were bouncing around your head uncontrollably and you needed closure, even if that meant you didn’t have Matt in your life after your next conversation.

Your knuckles barely connected to his door in a knock before it swung open, and Matt revealed himself in nothing more than grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. You smiled despite your nerves, and he tugged into his apartment and into his arms before mumbling a hello.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He hummed, keeping you close to him. You wanted to scream and shout and go home, stomach in knots and heart pounding so loudly you might need to consult a doctor.

Now or never, and never wasn’t an option anymore.

“I love you, Matt.” You forced yourself to say, feeling like you were going to be sick the moment the words left you. Matthew didn’t react poorly to your confession, in fact, he didn’t react at all, which was concerning in an all new way that you hadn’t thought about at first.

“I love you, too.” He replied easily, and you found yourself pulling away slightly and shaking your head at him. He wasn’t understanding, and that couldn’t have been a good sign.

“No, Matt, I’m in love with you.” You clarified, watching as his brows shot up and a look of realization crossed his face. You watched as his face fell and watched as his arms moved from around you to hold your arms at the elbows.

“Oh.” Was all he said. It was all he had to say to send your world crashing down around you.

One simple word from him and you knew you had just ruined your friendship.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll go. You have an early flight, and—”

“Y/N, wait.” He called, holding you tighter so you couldn’t escape his grip. You shook your head, trying to will away tears you knew were coming and desperately hold onto your last shred of dignity.

“No, it’s fine Matt. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You assured him, slipping out of his grip and heading towards the door. He was trailing after you, you could feel his presence, so it was only once the door was open and you were standing in his hallway did you acknowledge that he had been calling your name the entire time. Spinning to face him, you pointlessly wiped away tears that had been falling and would continue to fall for what seemed like the rest of your life. He looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

“We can still be friends?” It was a question; not even he was sure. You forced a smile, sniffling pathetically as you shrugged. He reached a hand out as if to caress your cheek, a dejected look in his eyes that only worsened when you took a step back to avoid his touch.

“I’ll need some space, Matty.” The words broke your heart but they needed to be said, and when he offered nothing more than a weak nod you took that as your cue to leave. You let yourself sob in the elevator and you meekly scurried past the doorman, trying to hide your face from him so that he couldn’t see you had been crying. You sat in your car for ten whole minutes before you deemed it safe to drive through your tears, and even then you took the long way home to avoid traffic.

Once back in your apartment, you forced yourself to drink a glass of water and slowly changed into pajamas. There was an ache in your chest that hadn’t been there before and you knew that it was due to Matt’s rejection. There was no fight left in you as you pulled up your texts, tiredly typing out a simple message to Rasmus before plugging in the device and setting it down for the night.

You were wrong.

Matthew felt wrong.

He felt as if his world had been turned upside down, inside out, and then inverted for good measure. He was confused, lost, and moping around his apartment and practice arena so often the boys had started ignoring him all together.

And it had only been a week and a half without you.

Somehow, despite his constant sour mood, he managed to convince Johnny to come over for a drink. Really, it was just a ruse to grill him about you. How you were doing, if you were heartbroken, and if you were talking to any of the other guys—because you hadn’t answered any of his texts in a week and a half.

Johnny had seen right through him, but he refused to acknowledge Matthew’s anxious behavior until the takeout was eaten and they were perched on the couch.

“Well?” Johnny started. Matt nodded for no good reason, bouncing his leg and running a hand through his hair to try and distract himself. He couldn’t collect his thoughts, but he was thankful his friend was there and waiting patiently—well, he was there and waiting with an unimpressed look on his face.

“The other day—”

“Y/N told you she loves you. And you turned her away.” Johnny finished for Matt, his tone bored. Matt nodded, feeling like he was being scolded for something he wasn’t sure of. “Because…?”

“Well, I don’t… I don’t know?” Did he love you? When you had confessed to him, he hadn’t thought he loved you in that way. But now, it had been the longest week and a half of his life without you. He felt like he was heartbroken, but did that mean he was heartbroken?

“Do you really think that you don’t love her?” Johnny asked, snapping Matt out of his thoughts. The curly haired boy looked to his friend with a confused look, not because of the question but because of his own feelings.

“What makes you say that?” Matt asked, genuinely curious. He loved you as his friend, loved you as his confidant, but did he love you as his person?”

“Every time we all go out, you make me text you when she goes home so you know she’s safe. You’re all over her all the time, and you pretend to be her boyfriend so guys don’t hit on her.” Johnny listed, and Matt would have made a comment about how he had those examples ready to go if they hadn’t sent him spiraling.

Matt thought he did all of those things as a friend. He was a good guy and you were his best friend; he was just trying to take care of you. But hearing Johnny list the endless reasons why it was so completely obvious that he loved you, he realized that he did all those things because you were his best friend and yet you were so much more.

“I love her.” Matt stated, sounding a little dumbfounded and a lot happy. It wasn’t a question anymore, he loved you, he knew it from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He wanted you to be his best friend that he kissed and cared for, and even though he did those things already he wanted the extra addition of a label so that he could proudly show you off. He loved you, and—

And he let you walk out the door.

“Fuck, man.” Matt groaned, leaning back into the couch and running his hands over his face. Johnny was resisting the urge to say ‘I told you so’ and if Matt had a free thought to spare he would have thanked him, but he was too busy worrying about you and what you were doing and how he was going to make this up to you. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, you’ve messed things up.” Johnny offered, unhelpfully, and Matt let him know just that as he shot him a glare. Matt felt ten times worse, now that he had realized what he truly lost. Before, you were his best friend that walked out of his life after he stupidly couldn’t see what he had. Now, he had lost the love of his life, the one person that knew him better than he probably knew himself.

“She’ll never talk to me.” Matt complained, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms. He hadn’t meant to try and earn sympathy from Johnny, he was just sulking and needed to voice his depreciative thoughts.

“No, never isn’t an option.” Johnny swiftly kicked Matt’s foot to earn his attention. He looked to his friend, who looked more serious than he had ever seen, and knew he needed to listen. “You’re both miserable without each other. Call her, and beg for forgiveness.”

“What if she—”

“She won’t.” Johnny interrupted, not bothering to entertain any negative thought that Matt could’ve come up with. Matt pouted, watching as Johnny stood to his feet and prepared to leave. He had left Matt with all the information and advice he had, and now the ball was in Matt’s court. Both of them knew what he had to do, and for the sake of everyone, he needed to do it soon.

It was only after Johnny was standing at the door with his coat on, did he turn to face Matt and send him the first sympathetic look of the evening. Matt didn’t know if he preferred the annoyed looks or this one, neither sitting right with him. He didn’t have long to ponder, because Johnny patted him on the shoulder and left him with some parting advice.

“She loves you, too, man.”

And then he was gone, and Matt was left with flashbacks to the night you left. He cursed himself, slipping back into his apartment and searching for his phone that he discarded in the kitchen at some point.

He wasn’t sure why it was so hard for him to dial your number, suddenly. He knew you loved him, you had said so himself, but there was something holding him back. He had hurt you once already, the image of you pulling back from his touch that night stinging like a fresh wound. But he had a chance to make things right, to make both you and him incredibly happy.

And he’d be damned if he was going to miss it twice.

He dropped onto the couch as he dialed your number, checking the time to make sure it wasn’t too late. It was before midnight, and you had called him past one in the morning, so he decided he was fine. Despite the early hour, the phone kept ringing and just as Matt’s stomach twisted and he was debating leaving a voicemail—declaring his love over voicemail was not the most romantic thing—you finally picked up.

“Hello?” You asked, and just the sound of your voice made some of the tension Matt had been holding in his shoulders for the past week and a half dissipate. He heard someone else in the background talking, but he ignored it, assuming it was the television.

“Hey.” Matt breathed. Silently, he wondered how stupid he was if he had honestly thought the way he felt about you was anything more than platonic. “What’re you up—”

“Matt, I’m on a date right now, I can’t talk.”

And that felt like a knife to the chest. It wasn’t the television he heard in the back, but in fact it was the voice of your date. His stomach lurched and he sat up straight, mouth pressed in a firm line. As Matt stayed quiet, he heard you mumble to your date that you’d need a moment before a door shut, and he assumed that you had slipped away to finish your conversation.

“Who are you with?” The words felt poisonous in his mouth, and with the way it felt like Matt’s chest was caving in, he worried that you would actually be his cause of death. He heard you sigh, and he could imagine you running a hand down your face in the way you always did when you didn’t want to answer a question.

“A friend of a friend, his name is Nick.” You told him, your voice sounding tight. He wasn’t sure why he asked, he couldn’t care less about the answer. Really, he just didn’t want you to hang up and go back to a guy that wasn’t him.

“It’s eleven at night, how are you still on a date?” He tried to joke, tried to hide his pain, because if you were on a date with someone else he’d let you. He’d already hurt you once, and if you were happy with this Nick guy, then he’d let you be.

“Clearly because it’s going well.” You nearly leveled him completely with your response. And if you had killed him before, that single comment was the final nail in his coffin. He knew what you were alluding to, that the date had gone so well you had gone back to his place. He felt like he was going to be sick, thinking of you in some other guy’s apartment, another guy getting to see you in every way he wanted to.

“Oh.”

“Look, Matt, I’ve got to go.” You didn’t sound happy, that was clear. Was it because of him? He shouldn’t have called you, because now he broke his own heart. His next thought was a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he desperately wished he could go back to being blissfully ignorant to his own feelings.

Did he make you feel as terrible as he did then?

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He pursed his lips, not wanting to hang up first and share you with another guy. It wasn’t sharing, truly, because he didn’t have you at all and whoever this Nick was had you entirely, at least for the night. And because Matt felt like things couldn’t get worse, he added his next comment, “Have fun.”

He absolutely did not want you to have fun.

“Bye, Matty.” He wished you didn’t use the nickname and he wished that you’d call him that for the rest of his life—of your life, together. He chuckled humorlessly, the thought that he could have had you for forever only a week and a half ago was enough to make him want to scream. Mumbling a goodbye, he hung up before he had the chance to break his own heart more.

Johnny was wrong.

Never, apparently, was the only option.

#Matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk x reader #Matthew tkachuk fic #Calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames x reader #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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detectivereyes · 3 years

Text

Even If You Stumble A Step, You’re Still Moving Forward

Summary: TK and Carlos move into their new home post-finale and TK doesn't exactly make the best first impression on their new neighbors...

Notes: this was like a fever dream i had a few months ago and then i stopped writing but decided to revive it last night so... here we are. also title creds (and emotional support creds) to jillian @marjansmarwani because this fic wouldn’t exist without her. and also s/o to brit @moviegeek03 for being extra supportive of yet another fic where [spoiler] tk falls down the stairs again :/

read on ao3

TK shuffles through the maze of boxes stacked several feet high throughout their new home. The scene shouldn’t surprise him considering it was only a few months ago he was moving his own boxes into their old home. However it feels different knowing that most of this stuff isn’t actually theirs.

Well, it is theirs now he figures. But the fact remains that most of the stuff filling the space was either given to them by various members of the extended 126 family, or was recently purchased by TK or Carlos on one of their many trips to Bed Bath and Beyond.

They had taken their time searching for a new place to live. Owen had made it clear that they were both welcome to stay with him (and Mateo) for as long as they needed, but TK had known it was time.

So when a townhome popped up on Zillow that met all their criteria, they wasted no time booking an appointment with the realtor. They both had instantly fallen in love with the open floor plan and deck out back. Plus they knew the extra bedrooms upstairs may come in handy someday.

While they knew the vertical layout of the home itself wasn’t the best, having more stairs than either of them were used to, it checked every other box and was right in their price range so they had wasted no time signing the lease.

A few days had passed since settlement and now most of their days were spent trying to unpack and make this new house into a home. It would never replace the one they had lost, but it had been exciting to build this new home together.

Though on this particular day, TK found himself alone in trying to get settled in since Carlos had a shift. With the 126 still out of commission, possibly forever, and the department not having any openings for paramedics, most of the unpacking was left for TK.

After getting a good chunk of the living room done, he checks the time and decides to go out and see if the mail has come yet. Not that he’s expecting anything with their address still being so new, and not getting much physical mail anyway to begin with. But it still provided a good excuse to take a break.

TK opens the front door and starts to make his way down the set of stairs leading down.

He makes it about halfway before his attention is caught by one of his new next door neighbors, Mr. Martin- if he remembers correctly, exiting at the same time. Mr. Martin gives a friendly wave and TK goes to return the gesture.

Except, he’s not paying attention when he takes the next step, and he misses, his heel just barely hitting the edge of the step before he starts to go down. He tumbles until he comes to a hard stop at the bottom, with most of his weight coming down on his right knee, sending shooting pains up and down his leg.

The rest of his body is sore, and by the time his ears stop ringing, he can just barely make out a new female voice asking “Sir, are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, which he had not even realized he had squeezed shut at some point, to see his neighbor, Mrs. Bailey- his brain supplies, from across the street making her way over to check on him, worried lines painting across her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine,” he grimaces while pushing himself up to a seated position. He tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good first impression on his neighbors.

“Are you sure, son? We can call for help if you need it. Someone you know, or 9-1-1?” Mr. Martin joins in the conversation.

“No!” TK interjects too quickly, startling both neighbors. He panics for a moment when the weight of the predicament settles in. He meets the gaze of both figures still staring at him, clearly concerned and waiting for him to say something. “I mean, I’m a paramedic. I’m fine. Or I will be fine. Thank you,” he flashes them both a quick smile before pushing himself up off the ground, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from his knee when he tries to put any weight on it.

Getting back up the stairs is no easy feat, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that both Mr. Martin and Mrs. Bailey are still watching him, concerned. Fortunately, they don’t know him well enough to try and follow or help. He’s not sure he would feel comfortable enough receiving help from some strangers. Half the time he doesn’t even feel comfortable receiving help from the people he does know.

He leans heavily on the railing, refusing to turn around out of fear of further mortification. Once he’s inside the home, he collapses right inside the hall, unable to go any further since his knee decided to stop cooperating.

A few tears pool in his eyes, and he’s unsure if that’s due to the pain or embarrassment. Not knowing what else to do, he takes out his phone and shoots a quick text to Carlos.

TK: we have to move

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the three dots to pop up before being replaced by Carlos’ response.

Carlos: ???

TK sighs and rubs his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation.

TK: i feel down the stairs out front and all the neighbors saw

Carlos: Holy shit, are you okay??

He lets out a puff of air at that.

TK: you mean besides my bruised ego?

TK: no, i hurt my knee but i’m fine. that’s not the issue here.

Carlos: Okay, I’ll be home in an hour and you can let me be the judge of that. If I see any swelling, we’re going to the doctor.”

He rolls his eyes at Carlos’ worry. At worst, it’s a bad sprain, nothing that can’t be fixed with some icing and wrapping. But there are other things they need to worry about.

TK: you’re missing the point, carlos. the entire neighborhood thinks i’m an idiot. we can’t live here anymore.

TK knows he’s being dramatic, but the more he thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. The idea that these are people he’s going to have to continue to face everyday for the foreseeable future. And that now all they’ll be able to think about when they do see him. Now he’ll just be known as the guy who can’t walk down stairs.

Carlos: Relax, TK. I’ll be home soon.

TK: you mean our temporary place of residence which we will soon be moving out of

He doesn’t get a response after that.

His mind continues to spiral while he waits for Carlos to arrive. He knows the other man is likely climbing the walls trying to leave his shift early but it would still be awhile before he could be allowed to leave.

Left alone with his thoughts, his mind keeps playing out the series of events that happened minutes ago. He can't help but beat himself up over embarrassing himself like that. Ironically enough, it’s not even the first time he’s fallen down stairs, having taken a tumble down the stairs in Carlos’ place a few months back. And of course he would manage to injure himself that time, and this time as well.

He should at least try to get up so he can find an ice pack to lessen the swelling. Sitting on the floor up against the wall can’t be doing his knee any favors. Yet he can’t bring himself to move, instead resting his head back against the wall and sighing.

TK pulls out his phone again, cycling through the apps until he hears the tell-tale keys jingling in the already unlocked door.

As soon as Carlos steps through the door, he nearly trips over TK in the doorway. “Woah, hey! TK, are you okay?” he crouches down to TK’s level.

TK shrugs. Now that he’s face to face with Carlos, he can’t help but feel suffocated by another person judging him, even if Carlos’ worry comes from a place of concern.

“Can I take a look at your knee?”

TK nods, allowing Carlos to gently inspect his swollen joint. He winces as Carlos traces his hand around his kneecap.

“This doesn’t look good, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine,” he quickly shakes his head. The worried look in Carlos’ eyes only makes his heart ache, and he can only try to find ways to make it go away. “Just help me up and we can ice it. It will look better once the swelling goes down a bit.”

Carlos gives him a look that screams I don’t believe you but sighs. “Fine, but if it doesn’t…”

“I know, I know. You’ll drag my ass to the emergency room,” TK gives him a reassuring smile.

Carlos returns the smile, and extends a hand to help TK up. TK accepts, and allows Carlos to take on most of his weight once he’s standing. They slowly make their way over to the living room, with Carlos softly depositing TK onto the sofa. He then disappears into the kitchen before returning with an ice pack in hand.

“Thanks,” TK smiles, trying to mask the wince as Carlos places the pack onto his knee.

“Do you want to watch an episode of The Office?” Carlos asks, picking up the remote and settling in the spot next to TK.

TK shrugs, knowing that Carlos is just trying to appeal to him by offering to put on his favorite show. The other man doesn’t even like the show that much, often finding the humor dry and tasteless, but TK thinks he just doesn’t get it.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

There it is.

“I just can’t believe I did that in front of our new neighbors. They probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I’m sure no one thinks you’re an idiot, TK,” Carlos gently reassures him.

“Yeah all the neighbors saw me make an idiot of myself,” TK sighs exasperatedly. “God, how am I supposed to face these people everyday now?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but this is not a valid reason for us to move.”

“I know,” he sighs again.

“Besides,” Carlos continues. “If your track record has proven anything, it’s that this won’t be the last medical emergency at our new home. It’s good that the neighbors are getting used to it now.”

TK gives him a pointed look.

“I’m pretty sure this is the second time you’ve fallen down the stairs since we’ve started dating,” Carlos says with a light chuckle.

“Whatever,” TK scoffs. “At least the other time it wasn’t in front of total strangers.”

Carlos softens. “That’s true. But I’m sure the neighbors just care about you. I don’t think this is that big of a deal, TK.”

“You weren’t there though. It was mortifying.”

“What did they say, exactly?”

TK nervously looks down. “They asked if I was okay. And if I needed any help.”

Carlos raises his eyebrow, waiting to see if TK continues.

“They offered to call for help but I said no and went back inside.”

“See? They just care about you TK. I haven’t really talked to anyone yet but they seem like nice people.”

“I guess,” TK shrugs.

“I know, you’re still embarrassed. But if nothing else, they’ll probably forget about it by the next time we see them.”

“You don’t think I’ll be known as the ‘clumsy neighbor who can’t walk down stairs’?”

“Maybe the ‘cute clumsy neighbor that can’t walk down stairs,’” Carlos says with a smirk. “But we could always change that.”

TK cocks his head to the side.

“You think our new neighbors might enjoy some peach scones when we go over and have a proper introduction?”

“You really plan to charm our new neighbors with your baking?”

“You think it will work?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, I do,” Carlos grins proudly. He then leans over and gently removes the ice pack from TK’s knee, grimacing at what he sees. “This still looks pretty swollen, babe. I think we need to go to the hospital.”

TK gives him a pained smile. “You sure I can’t talk my way out of this?”

“Nope,” Carlos says, popping the p. He stands up before extending his hand to help TK do the same.

TK accepts, shifting his weight and leaning into Carlos once he’s fully upright.

“You know, I think you may have a paramedic blindspot when it comes to your own health.”

TK lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A week later, Carlos softly knocks on the door of Mrs. Bailey’s home across the street with one hand and a plate of peach scones in the other. TK had offered to hold the scones but when they went over to Mr. Martin's home earlier in the day, it was quickly discovered it was too difficult for him to manage getting up the stairs and holding the plate.

So he settles for letting Carlos do most of the work while he awkwardly limps up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing to keep some pressure off his knee.

After their quick trip to the emergency room, it had been determined that TK’s initial assessment was right and it was just a bad sprain. He was given a brace to help reduce the pain and a pair of crutches, which (much to Carlos’ dismay) he abandoned after only two days, citing that they only made it harder to get around their home which he can now say for certain has too many damn stairs.

A problem which seems to follow him as he also has to get up the stairs to greet his neighbors.

“Maybe we should have moved to a neighborhood of single level homes,” he states with a wince as he joins Carlos at the front door.

Carlos snorts. “We can take it into consideration if we ever have to move again.”

“God, please don’t say that. I don’t want to think about moving ever again.”

“Good,” Carlos gives him a soft smile. “Because I’m planning on staying here for the long run.”

“Me too,” TK returns the smile just as Mrs. Bailey opens the door.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims taking in the sight of the two men.

“Hello ma’am,” Carlos says with a polite smile.

“We brought you some scones,” TK adds, gesturing to the plate in Carlos’ hands.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. Please come in. How are you doing?” she asks, turning to TK. “I’ve been worried.”

He exchanges a look with Carlos, the other man's face clearly saying I told you she cares, before turning back to Mrs. Bailey.

“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for asking. It’s just a bad sprain. But I do appreciate your concern, especially the other week.”

“Oh, of course dear,” she says with a warm smile. “Now, you boys aren’t going to make me eat these scones all by myself are you?”

They both let out a light chuckle and exchange another glance before following their new neighbor, and friend inside.

#i've posted too much today #but i need share before i end up deleting it #but actually if it flops i may just delete anyway #whatever at this point #911 lone star #911lonestarfic #tarlosfic #my fic #usersaaya #userbones #reyeslonestartag #pragmaticoptimist34 #tuserpaige

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cowboy-like-mee · 4 years

Text

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

summary: y/n deals with the aftermath of harry leaving her

warnings: angst af!!!! possible ED tw

word count: 2k

a/n: i was really sad so i started writing this to try to relieve some of the emotions built up in my body :))))))

this is based off the song “a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be” by jess benko. lyrics are spread throughout this in bold and italics so hopefully it isn’t too confusing!!

masterlist

Nothing hurts more than pretending like everything’s okay, when you’re falling apart on the inside. When you want nothing more than to be with your love. Hold him in your arms and give him little kisses whenever you want. Dance around the kitchen and sing songs from your youth.

Harry. Beautiful Harry. Your boy.

He’s not yours anymore. You have to remind yourself.

You’re miserable without him, but he’s better without you. The pain of being with you was much greater than the thought of leaving you.

So he left.

You’ll never forgive yourself.

Everyday seems to get worse. The days blend together.

You fall asleep, not sleeping well. You wake up, regretfully, tired from another restless night. The day drags on, never seeming to end. You walk around like a zombie. Daydreaming about going home to the love of your life, instead going home to an empty apartment and an empty fridge.

You can’t bring yourself to eat. You can’t bring yourself to even try to watch TV. You go straight to bed and stare at the ceiling till you eventually fall asleep. And then it repeats. And repeats. Again and again and again.

You can’t even remember what day it is. You don’t know if you’re supposed to go to work or if you’re off. You wake up anyway. Anything to distract yourself from the never ending cycle of numbness and loneliness. Self loathing and empty stomachs. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you things could have been different.

Maybe if you had done things a little different. Maybe if you had smiled a little more. Laughed at a few more of his jokes or hugged him a little bit tighter. Maybe if you had started accepting his offer to go on walks with him. Or watched a few more movies with him.

If you could go back you would never say no to anything he requested.

You would gladly sit through any of the god awful romantic comedies he’s obsessed with. Or drink the terrible black coffee he has every morning.

But no. Things change and people change. You drifted apart. You’ll never have him again. The giggles and late night love making. Him singing you to sleep or washing each other’s hair in the shower.

Sobs wrack your body for the first time in months. You hadn’t cried like this since the day he left. The memories seep back into your conscious, haunting you.

His bright green eyes flash behind your eyelids. His voice is ringing through your ears. You can feel his lips on your neck and his hands wrapped around your body.

You stand up, shaking your head and pulling at the roots of your hair. Trying to rip the memories straight out of your brain. You’ve never felt this kind of pain. Pure anguish. The reality finally setting in that he’s gone.

He had finally had enough of you. What he once loved and adored, he loathed.

He was far too gone once you realized. You were far too selfish to realize the man you love was slowly falling out of love with you.

“Y/N?” He had called your name gently.

“Hm?” You hummed, not looking up from your phone where you had been texting your friend for the last half an hour.

He took a deep breath, trying not to snap. “Can we talk?”

This got your attention. You looked up, brows furrowed, and set your phone down on the couch. “What?”

“I-I...I think we should take a break.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Wh-what?” You whispered, feeling tear prick your eyes.

“I...want to take a break from each other.”

You stared at the man sitting in front of you. You noticed how different he looked from the man you fell in love with. He looked sad. He looked exhausted. You didn’t know at the time it was because of you. You thought maybe he was having a rough time with himself. But now it’s crystal clear.

You changed. You weren’t the same woman he fell in love with. You two barely went on dates. You hadn’t had sex in months. You two hadn’t even been going to bed together. You would always go to bed first. He would sit in the living room, crying over his broken relationship. He would eventually crawl into bed, laying as far from you as possible. You hadn’t even noticed, being too caught up in your own life, not noticing your boyfriend slowly crumbling apart in front of your eyes.

So you agreed. You agreed to take a break from each other for two months. You wouldn’t date anybody or sleep with anyone, but you two had to stay apart from each other. It was easier for him than he hoped. He felt like he had freedom. He felt like he could breathe finally, not suffocating in his own home.

You had a different experience. You never realized how much you relied on him. The dishes piled up and your laundry was never washed. The fridge never got full of groceries at the beginning of the week. You had no one to cook you dinner or ask how you looked in a certain outfit. You missed him.

The two months was almost over and you had already planned out everything you were going to say. Your apology and your speech on how much you appreciated and loved him. You knew you fucked up and you knew you had to own up to your mistakes. Your negligence to him.

And then you got the call.

Stranger, that's all I see

The piercing sound of your phone ringing cut through the silence of the apartment. You jumped in your spot on the couch, where you were folding your clothes.

When I look into your eyes

Harry’s contact flashed across the screen. You didn't know if you should feel relieved or terrified. Did he finally have enough of this break and was ready to come running into your open arms?

You hesitantly slid across the bottom of the screen to answer.

“Harry?”

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’ve missed you so much, Harry.”

He winced at the sentence, his eyes already beginning to water and his throat feeling tight. “Listen, Y/N. I have something to tell you.”

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

Your heart stops beating at the tone of his voice. “Okay...”

You heard his breathing over the line for a few heartbeats before he finally spit it out, “I’m moving back home.”

Your heart leaped put of your chest. “Harry! I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve reorganized a lot of our place. I’ve had a lot of free time-”

“No, Y/N. I’m moving back to England.” He cut you off.

Your mouth hung open. A lump immediately formed in your throat. You attempted to swallow it down. “Oh.” You let out shakily, trying to hide the sound of the trembling in your voice.

“Yeah.”

You both sat in silence for a minute, not knowing what to say.

“So, when are you coming back?”

He tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. You were always so stubborn, and that was one of the things he used to love about you.

He sighed loudly, “I’m not coming back.”

“Are-are you breaking up with me, H?”

He squeezed his eye shut and shook his head. No matter how bad you are for him, he still loved you, and it still fucking hurts to do this.

“Yes, Y/N. I’m breaking up with you.” He said as steadily as he could manage.

Stranger, who knows all my secrets

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the cries leaving your body. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me over the phone!” You yelled into the phone, unable to control your emotions any longer.

“We haven’t seen each other in months, Y/N! You should’ve known this was gonna happen eventually!”

“I thought this break was supposed to make us come out stronger, not tear us apart!”

“We’ve been torn apart for a lot longer than you think.”

You didn’t know how to reply. He was right. You just never realized it. He had been feeling this way for a long time. This was inevitable.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. This is all my fault. I love you so much. You’re the only thing that holds me together. I know I fucked up and I ruined our relationship and everything good we had. Please, please, please, don’t do this. I'll do anything for another chance. We can take it slow. Anything. I can’t lose you, baby. You’re the love of my life. My light.”

He shakes his head and blinks away the tear threatening to spill over. “Y/N, no. I can’t keep doing this. We haven't been good for a long time. I‘m broken. I can’t keep going in circles. I need time for myself. We’ll find other people. I love you and I’ll always love you, but I can’t be with you anymore.”

You cried harder at his words. Nothing hurts more than knowing he’s leaving because you hurt him so bad. He still loves you.

The thought of Harry loving anyone else fucking hurts. The thought of him kissing another person and giving them the secret touches you used to share. You’re breathing is shallow and quick, sobs wracking your body.

“H, please. I-I can’t-”

“Goodbye, Y/N. Maybe one day in the future we can talk again, but I have to go. You’ll be okay.” He hung up.

Can pull me apart and break my heart

You immediately tried to call him back, ready to plead with him to try again with you.

The call didn’t go through. He blocked your number. You threw your phone across the room, hearing the glass shatter as it hit the wall then the ground. You dropped to the ground, loud cried of misery leaving your body.

It went on like this for days, weeks. You eventually had nothing left to cry. Your mind going numb. Everything reminded you of him. His smell lingering in your once shared apartment. The stuff he ever bothered picking up still sitting around your apartment. Even looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of him. The way he would compliment very feature on your face, making you develop the confidence he had instilled in you.

All of that leads to now.

The empty apartment and the grumbling stomach. You can’t remember the last time you had a proper meal. Nothing wanting to stay down.

So there you sit. In your empty home. Surrounded by long lost memories of the love you once shared with Harry. Your heart shattered into a million pieces. Feeling uncapable of ever loving again. Thinking of your lost love, thousands of miles away. Missing a piece of your soul, never to be replaced again.

But you’ll be okay. He said you would be.

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

pt 2

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

fu-

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook

Word Count: 1,983

Rating: 18+ (sexual imagery)

Summary: An accompanying drabble to Five Dates. This drabble takes place after the events of Five Dates and is Jungkook + accidentally teaching Namjoon’s child a swear word.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

Staring at the phone held in his palm, Jungkook contemplated one of the most difficult quandaries of his existence, including that time you asked if he liked your new haircut.

The answer was yes, by the way. The answer was always yes, unless you hinted at no and even then, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Jungkook’s current quandary involved you but was far more serious than any haircut-related inquiry. All you’d sent Jungkook was a singular text. Five words, eighteen letters in total.

Y/N: the line is super dark [8:34 PM]

Re-reading the text, Jungkook felt utter despair. To anyone else, it might seem nonsensical, but you’d been trying to conceive for nearly three months and a dark line meant you were ovulating. This would be their third attempt at getting you pregnant; a feat certainly not helped by your irregular cycle. Ovulation tests at least gave a window of when you were fertile.

You’d tested yourself this morning and the line had been fairly light but that had apparently changed over the course of the day. Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, staring at his phone and unsure what to do. Based on what you’d written in your baby planner, he needed to drive home right now and fuck you.

Except, of course, he was currently baby-sitting for Namjoon.

Dejectedly, Jungkook plopped down on the couch. Namjoon’s daughter was around eighteen months now and had been asleep for nearly thirty minutes, but Namjoon and his wife wouldn’t be home for hours.

Shoving a hand through his hair, Jungkook let the strands fall where they may to glumly text you back.

Jungkook: I’m babysitting for Namjoon tonight, remember? ☹️ [8:36 PM]

Y/N: shit [8:36 PM]

Y/N: what time will you be home? I need to get up early tomorrow for that book drive ☹️☹️ [8:37 PM]

Jungkook: Namjoon said around 11 :/ his mom gave them tickets to an opera or something and they promised to make an appearance [8:37 PM]

Y/N: 11?? That’s soooo late [8:38 PM]

Y/N: you could’ve cum inside me twice by then [8:38 PM]

Jungkook: fuck, Y/N…. [8:39 PM]

His heart raced, leaning back on the sofa. Nothing in the world made him so hard so fast as the image of your cunt, stuffed to the brim until his cum dripped down the sides. Jungkook had been treated to the image often over the past few months and didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it.

The whole ‘baby planner’ thing had thrown a kink in romance, but Jungkook tried hard to ensure you lived in the moment. You were a planner at heart and tended to get caught up in how long it was taking, why you hadn’t conceived yet – Jungkook assured you these things took time. You may as well enjoy all the sex before you had an actual child to take care of.

A slightly dreamy smile crossed Jungkook’s face at the thought. He couldn’t wait to be a dad. It was part of the reason he baby-sat for Namjoon as often as he did. Namjoon was the first of their friend group to have a kid and, as exhausted as he seemed, Jungkook had never seen his friend so happy.

It was clear from the way he looked at his daughter and wife that Namjoon was entirely smitten. Jungkook wanted that with you – he wanted a family, another player on their team.

Forcing himself to stand from the couch, Jungkook began to tidy Namjoon’s place. The more distracted he was, the less he’d think about you spread out on the bed, cum dripping from the sides of your used pussy.

Jungkook paused in his cleanup, emerald throw-pillow in hand to squeeze shut his eyes. Fuck. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes as his phone dinged again.

Y/N: couldn’t someone else come and finish babysitting? :) [8:41 PM]

Y/N: jimin, maybe? [8:41 PM]

Y/N: or Seokjin? [8:41 PM]

Jungkook hesitated, but already knew the answers to your questions. Jimin was out of town and Seokjin had posted a story on Instagram about date night. Picking up a blanket and stacking toy, Jungkook exited the room to enter Namjoon’s apartment.

Apartment was a loose term; Namjoon and his wife had the entire floor of the building. Jungkook paused outside the nursery, listening to hear if anything was amiss. The door was open partway, allowing for light to spill in from the hall. Jungkook poked his head in to see their daughter snuggled under her blankets.

Smiling softly, Jungkook stepped in and placed the blanket on top of the rocker. He set the stacking toy in the toy chest and saw you’d texted again. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jungkook shielded the screen with one hand to open the message.

His heart lodged in his throat when he saw you’d sent a photo of you sprawled on the bed, black lingerie on. A low, frustrated whine left his throat.

“Fuck,” Jungkook said sadly.

“Fuck?” garbled a tiny voice in the darkness.

Jungkook froze.

Eyes wide, he turned to see Namjoon’s daughter standing, tiny hands clutching the bars of her crib. She had just been asleep – when had she managed to do that?! As Jungkook began to panic and hope she hadn’t really heard, she let out a bright laugh and bounced.

“Fuck,” she said, clear as day. “Fuck!”

Jungkook slowly closed his eyes. He was toast. Namjoon’s daughter could barely articulate what she wanted for dinner, but now had the capacity to absorb swear words with ease.

“No,” he groaned, opening his eyes. Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees at her crib. “No, baby, no. We don’t like that word, right? It’s a bad word. You’re not bad! You’re good! You’re a super-sweet angel, who –”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook slowly hung his head. “We’re doomed,” he muttered.

Down the hall to the front of the apartment, Jungkook heard the elevator ding. Double shit – like he’d told you, Namjoon and his wife weren’t supposed to be home for hours.

“Jungkook?” Namjoon’s voice called from far away. “Where are you?”

Starting to panic, Jungkook lifted his head. “Okay,” he whispered, giving the toddler a pleading stare. “This is just between you and me, right? Right?”

All he got in return was a round-eyed look and happy coo, so Jungkook had to hope that meant yes in baby-speak. Jungkook heard footsteps in the hall.

“Jungkook?” Namjoon poked his head into the nursery, squinting at the darkness to find Jungkook on the floor. “What’re you doing?”

Jungkook hastily pushed himself to his feet. “Nothing!” He beamed widely at Namjoon. “I just thought I heard her moving, so I came in to check and –”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook stopped in his tracks at the word happily chirped behind him. Namjoon’s eyes widened in horror, his gaze darting to his daughter who stood in her crib. Jungkook, also wide-eyed, stayed where he was.

Slowly, Namjoon returned to Jungkook. “Was that…” He sounded strangled. “What did my daughter just say?”

“Uh…” Jungkook gave him a weak smile. “Funk?”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry,” he groaned.

“Did you…” Namjoon inhaled. “My daughter can barely speak in full sentences and now one of those sentences is going to include that?”

Before Jungkook could respond, Namjoon’s wife appeared behind him in the hall. She wore a flowy, floor-length dress and crystalline earrings. When she saw Jungkook, she waved.

“Hi, JK!” Her smile widened. “Thanks so much for baby-sitting. Sorry we’re home early – the opera was such a bore. I convinced Namjoon to leave as soon as his mom saw us. I missed my angel,” she sighed, entering the room to cross to the crib.

Jungkook reached out to stop her, but before he could –

“Fuck!”

Namjoon’s wife halted, blinking in surprise at the crib. Then, against all reason, she started to laugh. Both shoulders shook, her right hand coming up to cover her mouth and hold in her mirth.

Both Jungkook and Namjoon stared.

“Oh my gosh,” his wife laughed, bending over the crib. “Is that what you learned tonight, hm, pretty girl?”

Jungkook watched in total astonishment as Namjoon’s wife tucked her daughter in, smoothing her hair to brush a kiss to her forehead. When she straightened and turned, she seemed mostly amused.

Finding Jungkook, she arched a brow. “Your handiwork, I presume?”

“I’m so sorry.” Jungkook kept his voice to a whisper, not wanting to wake their daughter again. “It was an accident, I swear.”

Again, Namjoon’s wife grinned. “It’s fine,” she said, waving them into the hall. “Let me guess – Joon freaked, huh?” Her husband adopted a guilty expression. “She’s a toddler, she’ll forget this by next week. And if she doesn’t, then she’ll have something for show and tell when she starts preschool, huh?”

She laughed at their shocked expressions, reminded Namjoon to pay Jungkook for baby-sitting and then left to wash up.

Namjoon stood alone in the hall with Jungkook, who frowned. “Were you supposed to be paying me this entire time?” he asked, turning to Namjoon.

“I’ll get you a pizza or something,” Namjoon said stiffly.

Despite his wife’s words, he still looked somewhat pained and Jungkook’s shoulders dropped.

“I really am sorry,” he said again. “I know your wife said everything was fine, but I am. It was an accident – I didn’t think she was awake!”

Namjoon shook his head slowly, starting to smile.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he said with a laugh. As he walked them towards the front door, he glanced curiously at Jungkook. “What happened, though? Stub your toe on one of her toys?”

“Does that happen often?”

“More times than I can count.”

Jungkook laughed. “Nothing like that. I was just texting Y/N.”

Namjoon’s brows shot upwards. “Is something wrong?”

“No, um…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, the opposite.”

They came to a stop at the elevator and Namjoon turned to face him. He had an amused look on his face as he pressed a button. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh…” Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. “We’re trying.”

Namjoon’s expression became almost comical. “You are? Shit, JK, that’s amazing!” Reaching out, he pulled Jungkook into a tight hug. When he finally let go, Namjoon grinned. “Damn, I can’t wait for there to be another dad in the group.”

“I mean, we’re only trying,” Jungkook hastened. “Y/N isn’t pregnant yet. She’s actually ovulating right now, which is why I was swearing. She wanted me to come home and – you probably don’t want to know all this,” he said, cutting himself off at the look on Namjoon’s face.

A look Jungkook read completely wrong, as it turned out.

“What are you waiting for?” Namjoon blurted as the elevator arrived. He practically shoved Jungkook inside. “Ovulation is no joke, man! Get the fuck home and put a baby in Y/N!”

From somewhere in the apartment, Namjoon’s wife called, “Language, Joon!”

Namjoon turned in surprise. “Really?” he called back. “I thought we could say that word now. You know, since the cat’s out of the bag? Anyways,” he said, returning to Jungkook. “Get out of here!”

Shaking his head, Jungkook stepped onto the elevator. “Okay. Weird, but thanks! And sorry again!”

As he waited for the elevator doors to close, Jungkook heard Namjoon leave and pulled out his phone to text you back.

Jungkook: coming home now xx [8:55 PM]

Jungkook: Namjoon and his wife hated the opera, left early [8:55 PM]

Jungkook: think there’s still time for twice tonight? [8:55 PM]

You answered almost immediately.

Y/N: I’ve always liked a man with ambition ;) love you. Hurry home xx [8:56 PM]

kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook writing #bts writing #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #bts fluff #bts drabble

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hskrealm · 4 years

Text

innocence (m.)

pairing: drag racer yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, smutsmutsmut. (this post took a turn i swear)

word count: 3.2k

warnings: overstimulation, PET NAMES SO MANY PET NAMES WHAT WAS I THINKING, fingering, oral (f receiving), cute shit, virgin!reader, yoongi is a bit persuasive, etc.

summary: your best friend wants to take your innocence in every possible way.

a/n: i wrote this MONTHS ago, and i literally forgot about it up until yesterday, or sometime before that? i was sad because I deleted it, but my bby @bitchyaus reblogged it after i posted it, and i have NEEEEVEEER been happier.

You hummed as you sat on your couch while scrolling through your social media feed and taking small bites of your favorite snack every now and then.

It was only 7:09. You’d usually find something to occupy yourself every day until 8:00 on the dot (although he’d come early sometimes, but that wasn’t often), which was when Yoongi would come knocking on your door with a new story to tell and to raid your fridge of whatever he could find.

If necessary, you’d tend to the few bruises his beautiful face would sport.

Once he was comfortable enough to tell you what his occupation was, you cringed the moment you imagined him sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle, pushing 200 to nearly 300 miles on a daily basis.

You begged him to consider something safer, to which he responded with a small smirk,

“I’ve been doing this years before I even met you. If I’ve managed to keep myself in good condition for this long, then I’m sure that you have nothing to worry about.”

This had become a repetitive cycle in the short year that you had known him. He’d shoot you a text before he went out for the day, and come speeding back to your place once he was let off of work.

Or–when he let himself off, rather. He never really was the type to follow rules anyway.

You smiled fondly at the thought of seeing his gummy smile sometime in the next hour.

You checked your phone again.

7:14.

Well, 46 minutes to be exact.

You sighed and tossed your head back against the couch cushions as you tried to register what about this man had you so whipped for him.

Could be the fact that he was a sweetheart when it came to you,

Or it could also be the fact that he looked so fucking hot driving those cars despite how much you hated seeing him behind the wheel.

Or, it could be that he had really, really pretty hands–

There was a loud knock at your door. It carried the same loudness that Yoongi’s carried.

Okay, you have really got to find yourself a hobby.

The person knocked twice, and then there was a three second pause before the last and final knock came.

You grinned as you rushed over toward the door.

There was his signature knock that he had given himself sometime a few weeks ago.

He suggested that he should have a special knock so you knew it was him, although you told him multiple times that no one other than him or your best friend came to visit.

He still wouldn’t let up even then, muttering something about how it would be the safest measure. You then (jokingly) proceeded to tell him he knew nothing about safety, which led him to tell you about all of the safety precautions people in his profession must take before even considering driving one of those high speed cars.

He couldn’t take a joke, but that was alright. You loved him anyway.

You took a quick glance through the peephole just to make sure it was him before you unlocked the door.

As usual, he rushed in and threw his bag to the ground before making a beeline to your kitchen.

“Nice to see you too.” You smiled a bit, closing the door back and locking it behind yourself.

“I shouldn’t have to greet you anymore when I enter.” He spoke, although his voice was a bit muffled since he was bent over as he shuffled through your fridge.

“It’d be nice, though.” You sighed dramatically as you walked back over to your couch and flopped onto it.

“Sure.” He shrugged, returning from the kitchen to take his spot next to you on the couch as he always did.

“Hello, Princess.” He smirked, laughing at the way you rolled your eyes and looked away from him.

He’d called you that for forever now, and you’d be a terrible fucking liar if you were to say that it didn’t make your pussy clench.

He knew that it did, too, which was why he said it.

“Did you do something productive today?” He asked, as he took a bite out of one of the strawberries out of the bowl that he quickly prepared for himself.

“I did some school work earlier.” You shrugged, gesturing toward your closed laptop that sat on the arm of the couch closest to you.

He hummed, nodding approvingly.

“Good girl,” He noticed the way that your body shivered at his praise. He always talked like this, but for some reason it was really having an impact on you right now.

“Have you eaten something filling today?” You bit your lip.

You hadn’t had a ‘meal’, but you had some pretty filling snacks. You just weren’t in the mood to cook anything, or even order something.

There was no point in lying to him either, because he could see right through you.

“Depends on what the word filling means.” You responded, as if this wasn’t a question that he asked you everyday.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you and set the bowl of strawberries down on your coffee table before quickly reaching over your thighs to grab the bag of chips that you had been snacking on before his arrival.

His hand brushed over the exposed skin of your legs, causing you to gulp. He was always a forward person, but never this forward.

“This isn’t a meal, ____ . “ He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“I know, but I can promise you that I am satiated.” Yoongi shook his head in disbelief.

“You hungry?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he stared into your eyes with his arms crossed.

“Nope.” As if on cue, your stomach growled.

“Mhm.” He mocked, handing you the bowl of strawberries before standing up.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused as to why he was suddenly up on his feet.

“I’m about to cook you something, little girl.” He rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

“Yoongiiii-“

“In the mood for pasta? You’ve got all of the ingredients I’d need to make you some alfredo.” You groaned.

“My stomach growls all the time! I’m not hungry, I swear.” He was already pulling out pots and pans from your cupboards as your voice went through one ear and out of the other.

“Suck on those strawberries with those pretty lips of yours while I cook this, hm?” He said, leaning against the kitchen counter with his elbows resting against it.

“I don’t want the straw–”

“I already put the noodles in the pot, so you’re shit out of luck.”

———

Yoongi had been in the kitchen for half an hour while you caught up on your favorite Netflix series.

You should’ve just lied and said yes. He was going through way too much trouble for you.

“Alright,” He began, as he finally left the kitchen.

“Should be good to eat in a few minutes.” He slid back onto the couch.

“Mind if I use your laptop to check my stats? I’m sure they’ve gone up.” He bragged. You playfully rolled your eyes and handed him your laptop, before directing your attention back to your TV.

Yoongi began typing away for a few minutes, until his fingers paused, his eyes grew wide, and he choked on air.

“What? Those stats not what you expected them to be?” You laughed, Yoongi turning his head to look at you before clicking on a tab at the top of the screen and pushing the laptop in your direction.

“What– Oh my God, give me that!” You yelled, Yoongi easily fighting off your efforts to grab the laptop away from him by shoving his arm against your chest.

“Are these your nudes?” He asked, although it was painfully clear that they were.

Yoongi smirked at the way you began to blush profusely.

Holy shit, you were going to die of embarrassment.

‘Play it cool.’ You thought to yourself.

“Yeah? So what if they are?” You used this opportunity to snatch the laptop away from him and close the tab, before shutting the laptop off and setting it on the coffee table where the empty strawberry bowl was.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, taken aback by your response.

“Clearly you don’t seem to mind.” You smirked, gesturing to the bulge forming in his pants.

He dropped the smirk on his face as he inched closer to you. You reflexively backed away from him.

“You talk pretty big for a virgin, sweetheart.” He growled. Your stomach fell to the bottom of your ass at his words.

You weren’t sure of what to say.

“Uh, I never told—“

“You’d be surprised of what you tell me when you’re drunk.” He reached forward to twirl a strand of your hair around his pointer finger before tucking it behind your ear, as if he had done this to you before.

“Since we’re letting secrets go, you should know that I’ve thought about fucking you plenty of times.” He hummed, as he traced your jawline with his fingers.

“You haven’t got any idea of what thinking about stripping you of your innocence does to me, sweetheart.”

Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“I know that you’d let me, too.” He slowly pushed you backward until your back hit the couch.

“You would let me, wouldn’t you?” He looked into your eyes, waiting for your approval before he took anything further.

You thought about it.

Did you really want to lose your virginity to this sexy drag racer that you’ve grown to become best friends with over the past year?

Hell yes.

“Yes, yes I’d let you.” You stuttered, causing him to groan at your admittance.

He was going to corrupt you more and more day by day before you even realized it.

And fuck, he couldn’t wait.

“Hmm.” He hummed against your skin, as he nudged your head to the side so he could expose the skin of your neck.

He quickly began to suck love bites against the skin, eager to cut straight to the chase in order to get a taste of that perfect cunt that was spread wide in that picture.

“How far have you gone, baby?” He asked, as he tugged your shirt up over your chest and kissed his way around your breasts.

“I–I’ve, fuck,” You moaned, as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth.

“I’m sorry, you’ve done what?” He mumbled against your hardening bud. You whimpered.

“I-I’ve masturbated with a toy.” Yoongi detached his mouth from your nipple.

“That’s all?” You nodded shyly.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He hungrily kissed down the rest of your body, stopping right above the band of your shorts.

“I’ve got to taste you to get you prepared to take me. Is that alright?” He wasn’t lying. It would help you adjust to his size a bit easier, but it was mostly for his own personal pleasure.

You nodded, and he wasted no time in tugging down your shorts and panties in one swift motion.

“Oh my God.” He nearly whimpered at the sight of your untouched pussy. You began to close your legs as he stared down at your most intimate areas, which prompted him to roughly throw one of your legs over the back of the couch so you were forced to keep yourself spread for him.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He warned. You nodded, murmuring an apology as he laid himself flat against the couch and pulled your hips closer to his face.

He breathed shakily against your core. You began to writhe in his hold as his cool breath hit your exposed pussy lips.

“Are you sure about this, baby? We could stop this at any moment.” He asked for the final time. It made you smile that he continued to ask you if this was really what you wanted.

“I’m sure. Please–oh, shit!” You yelped. Yoongi hadn’t even let you finish your sentence before he had his lips wrapped around your clit.

Your hands hesitantly tangled in his hair, as you were uncertain if he was okay with you touching him or not.

He sensed your hesitation and moaned in approval as you testingly tugged at his blonde locks.

His moan vibrated against your core, causing you to buck your hips up toward his face.

He grunted at this, using one of his arms to pin you down to the couch by your stomach, while his other arm pushed your flailing leg away from his face so he had more access to his meal.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” He growled into you, his cock growing harder underneath him as more of your juices began to gush onto his face.

You didn’t know how it was possible, but he managed to pull you even closer to him as he licked a long stripe from your dripping hole back up to your clit, before he dipped his tongue inside of your clenching cunt and (quite literally) fucked you with his tongue.

You were a mess above him, your hair matted and stuck to your sweaty forehead as you relished in the feeling of his tongue collecting every drop of your arousal.

“‘M gonna cum, so fucking close, please please–” You begged him with your eyes closed. He took a glance up at you, wanting to watch you come undone on his tongue.

“SHIT!” You screamed, the euphoric bliss of your first orgasm knocking the wind out of you.

Yoongi hummed and pulled his tongue out of you, slipping two of his fingers into his mouth before lining them up with your cunt.

“You with me, babygirl?” He asked. You opened your eyes so you could see him, but you immediately closed them again ad he slid his digits into your wet hole.

“Ughh, oh my fucking God!” You let out a broken moan, tears welling in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Hey, you’re okay, hm? I need to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible if you’re still willing to take my cock.” His words were caring, although there was a bit of cockiness behind them, almost as if he knew that you still would be in at least some pain from the stretch.

The thought alone excited him.

“Just a little bit more, okay? Hold out for me.” You were about to protest, when he pressed his hand against your lower stomach and began to piston his fingers in and out of you like a machine.

He curled them perfectly against that little spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling toward the back of your head, and your toes curling in pleasure.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you came for the second time within a five minute span.

Yoongi left you to yourself for a moment as he hastily tugged his jeans down, not wanting to waste time to pull them off completely.

He was so eager to have your little cunt pulsing around him.

He fished around in his back pocket for a condom. He was thanking himself mentally for forgetting to take it out the last time he wore those jeans a few weeks ago.

“Could you be a doll and roll this on for me, baby?” He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly tossed it aside as he handed you the slippery thing.

You took it with shaky hands, still not completely over your last two orgasms as you gently grabbed his cock and spread the condom over it.

“Oh, fuck.” He growled, the feeling of your little hand spreading over his throbbing dick enough to make him cum right there.

He desperately needed to be inside of you.

He grabbed his cock and began to rub circles around your clit, the small action making you gasp for air because of how sensitive you already were.

“Think you can still handle me?” You looked up at him. He wasn’t smirking, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Mhm, j-just please, be gentle.” You whimpered, and Yoongi nodded as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

For now.

He pushed just the tip into you, instantly catching your lips with his to prevent any sound of discomfort from leaving your mouth.

“Ready for some more?” He asked sweetly, as he pressed his forehead against yours. You winced, but nodded anyway.

He pushed the rest of his cock into you inch by inch, attempting to nullify the pain a bit by leaving kisses along the side of your neck and jaw.

“You’re taking me so well, ____.” He sat still for a moment, letting you adjust before he rocked his hips slightly.

He looked at you for approval, and when you nodded once he began to set a slow, steady rhythm with the pace of his thrusts.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby. You’re squeezing me so tight, I can barely fit my cock through.” You weren’t sure what it was about the way that he was talking to you, but it just made you clench around him even harder as he began to pick up speed.

“I need you to cum with me, Princess. Can you do that for me?” You nodded eagerly, already on the brink of insanity.

He licked his thumb and brought it down to your clit. You squeaked, and he grunted above you as he tried to ease himself inside of you without hurting you.

“Now, cum now.” He ordered, his arms shaking as he held himself up above you to prevent from collapsing on top of your chest.

You came with your mouth held open in a silent moan, your legs spasming around Yoongi’s waist as he slowly pulled out of you.

The corruption was only beginning.

“Hungry? I’m sure the food is plenty cool now.” You laughed breathlessly at his lame joke, as you covered your face with your hands while trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll go grab some for you, but I’ve got a question for you first.” He paused. “No, wait, two actually.” You glanced at him.

“Go for it.” You said, voice hoarse.

“Would you let me take you out sometime? I mean, on a real date?” You scoffed.

“I thought you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend or something.” You laughed. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was.” You froze.

“I backed out, though.”

“I mean, I would’ve said yes.” He snapped his head toward you.

“You would have?” You nodded, a small smile on your face.

“In that case, will you be my girlfriend, then?” You giggled at his shy demeanor, a complete 180 from how he handled you just a few minutes ago.

“Yes, I will.” He leaned down to peck your cheek.

“My last question...”

“Yeeeees?” You encouraged him to continue.

“Why are your nudes on your laptop anyway?”

“I hate you.”

tag list! let me know if you want to be on it. (you could send me a message, an ask, or just comment under this fic)

@bitchyaus @dontaskshhhhh @taesluttt @1-in-abillion @designjet @peachy-bhun @patpus @koracynthia120 @safi4x @lcnycto @someonewhowannadielol @dreamingsmile @rinastylesworld @fan-ati--c @sincemalik @bts-bay-bee @cestlaviecia @jeonjungkookiiee @bunny-kix03

#blkjmn #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi au #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi au

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

By My Side

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 3,950ish

Summary: Tony fails to show up to your plans, again. Causing you two to fight.

You had been sitting in the restaurant for almost two hours. The only reason the staff hadn’t kicked you out was because they knew who you were. You were Tony Stark’s girlfriend. You two frequented the restaurant and Tony always tipped generously, so they were scared to ask you to leave. You hadn’t seen Tony all day, but you had texted him to remind him, multiple times. Even as you sat at the table you had texted him. But no response.

You sighed as you watched the staff clean up to close. They had offered you food and drinks but you had declined anything but water, wanting to wait for Tony. A few tears fell onto the napkin you were writing on. You let the staff a note of apologizes and a large tip before hurrying from the place. Outside, the world was dark and raining, the perfect setting for your feelings.

Your heart broke into more and more pieces as you walked home, having no desire to get to the Tower quickly, thinking about how Tony and stood you up. It wasn’t the first time. You had been together for almost three years, it would be three in a few weeks, and there had been times where he stood you up, but nothing like this. The past couple of months Tony was leaving you high and dry for every little thing. Date nights, movie nights, breakfast, lunch. Hell! Even sleeping in the same bed.

And there was always an excuse:

“Pepper needs me to help out with a conference.”

“I was needed on a mission.”

“Sorry, Bruce and I were so invested on what we working on.”

And the turning it on you:

“It was just so important, honey. You’ve got to understand.”

“If you were an Avenger, you’d do the same thing too.”

“I love you, but the world needs saving."

And the promises:

“I promise I won’t ever let that happen again.”

“I’ll take you some place even better next time, I promise.”

“How about next Friday? I promise it will be a night to remember.”

“After this, I promise to come to bed.”

All in the past couple of months, but nothing had changed. You didn’t know how to bring it up to Tony that you were frustrated. You were close to calling it quits a few times, but he always had a way to reel you back in. Those brown eyes, the never to be filled promises, the sweet touch of his lips to your skin.

By the time you had gotten back to the Tower, you were trembling. Of sadness and the cold. You couldn’t tell if the water running down your cheeks was because of your wet hair or tears. You went straight to yours and Tony’s shared floor, wanting to take a shower and go straight to bed. When you arrived in your bedroom, you were frozen at the sight. Tony was lying on the bed, completely asleep. You flipped on the lights, causing him to stir. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on why the lights just turned on.

“Honey? Is that you?” He yawned. “Where have you been? I was—“ He cut himself off when he finally focused on you. “Why are you soaking wet?”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond. You just shook your head and bit your tongue, scoffing.

“Like, you’re trembling!” Tony exclaimed, getting out of bed to come to you. “Where were you? And did you walk home from wherever you were?”

You examined his face, noting the very light, but clearly recent, scratches littering it. He had been on a mission. Tony had left to safe the world, without so much as a note telling you where or why. Tony reached you, going to put his hands on your arms to try and warm you up. But you flinched, stepping back. His face instantly contorted into one of confusion and worry.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked.

“What’s wrong?” You repeated quietly, scoffing. “What’s wrong?” You faked a laugh as you shook your head. “You tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well, uh… I kind of don’t know. That’s why I asked you.”

“Did you not get any of my messages today?”

“Um… well I was a little busy. Fury called me in on a little mission. Just clean up and stuff. I didn’t have time to check my phone.”

“Or have JARVIS check it?”

“Well, I—“

“You know what,” you shook your head, pushing passed him. “I don’t even want to hear it. All I want to do is take a shower and go to bed.” You tried to enter the bathroom, but Tony caught your wrist.

“No, honey, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“You didn’t show up. Again.” You turned to look at him, he clearly had no clue of what you were talking about. “I sat alone, for hours, at our table, again. We planned this date weeks ago and you don’t even have the curtesy to have your AI let me know you won’t be able to make it.”

“We had a date? I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” You went to head into the bathroom, but Tony quickly came around and blocked the door. “Move, Tony. I’m cold and just want to take a hot shower.”

“Not until we’re done here. I really don’t think we had a date tonight.”

“You did, sir,” JARVIS interrupted. “You had me put it on the calendar to show Ms. L/N, that you wouldn’t miss it. When Fury called, you had me erase the calendar for today and any of the notifications set for it.”

“Really, Tony?” You were done, so very done. You couldn’t help the tears that collected in your eyes. “You couldn’t even remember yourself.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I really am,” Tony said. “But you know how it is. I can’t help it if the world needs saving.”

“What about me!” You finally let lose. “What if I need saving?”

“I would drop everything and run to you in a heart beat if you needed saving. You know that.”

“But do I?! And, plus, literally saving me is not what I was talking about. Ugh!” You threw your hands up in the air. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“What?”

“You forget everything! Leave me, embarrassed, at restaurants, waiting for you to not show up! You promise and apologize every time after, but you never follow through! Especially the last couple of months. I just can’t take it anymore!”

“I’m sorry if I have to go save the world. I can’t control when people need help.”

“But you can say no! Just once.” Tears were spilling out of your eyes, uncontrollably. “Ask someone else to do it. Steve, Natasha, Clint, anyone! And if you do go, you could leave a message so that I’m not front page news every time you leave me to wait at a restaurant!”

“You knew what you were getting into when you started,” Tony was getting angry. “I gave you an out before we got serious. But you said that you were all in. You said that you’d love me no matter what!”

“And I do! That’s why this hurts so bad! I love you more than anything in the world. But, clearly, I don’t matter that much to you!”

“How can you even say that? You know how much I care, how much I love you!”

“Then why don’t you show me?! You tell me, but you don’t show it. And, when you do tell me, its when you’re trying to make up for a mistake you made!”

“I’m not the only one who makes mistakes in this relationship! You do too!”

“I know! I’m not perfect, but at least I try! I show up, I’m there for you! Waiting for you! No matter what!”

“You’re too damn needy! What if, I was purposefully avoided meeting up with you all those times? Huh? Maybe I didn’t want to spend time with you. Have you ever thought about that?!”

You could both hear your heart break. Guilt immediately washed over Tony as he watched your heart broken face stare back at him.

“Honey,” his voice was softer now, full of guilt. “I didn’t mean—“ He went to reach out for you, but you stepped away. “I don’t no why I said that. Any of it. I didn’t mean it, Y/N.” He could see you withdrawing, in your broken, red, tear-filled eyes. “I love you. Please, let me—“

“No.” Your voice was shaky, but firm. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You ran out of the room, Tony quickly following after you.

“Y/N! Please!” He begged. You could hear the emotions forming in his throat. “Just one more chance! I promise—“

“Your promises don’t mean a thing to me anymore,” You cried, entering the elevator.

“Stay, let’s talk this out.”

“I’ve heard enough.” The elevator doors began closing. “Goodbye, Tony.”

~~~

Thank goodness for Natasha. Since you had moved in with Tony, you had sold your apartment. She had caught you, trembling in the lobby after leaving Tony. A few words from you, Natasha knew what had happened. She quickly whisked you across the city to her secret apartment. No one, but Clint, knew she had it. It was for emergencies, in which this was definitely one she believed. Knowing that you needed space, she didn’t hover around too much, just dropping by food and her and Clint had took your things from Tony’s room while he was locked away in the lab.

You hardly moved from your spot on the bed. You cried until you fell asleep, and when you woke up you did it again. A sad cycle that Clint and Natasha were forced to watch.

Tony had looked himself away in his lap, after failing to track where Natasha had rushed you off to. Natasha had taken your phone from you and you had left every piece of jewelry Tony had put a tracker in behind. He had tried to pull the information out of both Natasha and Clint, but the assassins were not budging. So he locked himself away in his land, guilt eating away at him.

It had been a week, and, at this point, the whole team knew what had happened. And they were all not pleased with Tony. You were family to them, they each loved you and ached to see you hurt in such a way.

Steve had been allowed to check on you, due to the assassins having been called on a mission. His heart broke at the sight of you curled up on the bed, staring out the window. After making you some soup, he came into the bedroom, bringing it, and sat next to you on the bed.

“I made you some of my ma’s famous soup,” he said with a small smile.

“I’m not hungry,” you rasped, throat sore from all the sobbing and screaming into the pillows.

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Steve sighed, setting the soup down on the bedside table. When he left you that evening, he was extremely angry at Tony. How could he have put you in that state? And how could he not being doing anything to win you back? So, marching into the Tower, Steve had had enough. He marched straight to the lab, breaking in. Tony was hunching over the table, scribbling something down on a paper.

“Tony,” Steve said, sternly. “We need to talk.”

“I’m kinda busy at the moment, Rogers,” Tony mumbled, still working on his paper.

“Well get unbusy. I was just with Y/N and—“

That clearly got Tony’s attention, cause he was up and looking at Steve as soon as your name was said. “How is she? Oh gosh, please tell me it isn’t bad.”

“Isn’t bad? Tony, she won’t eat! She hasn’t gotten out of bed since that night!”

Tony shook his head, placing it in his hands. “I’ve screw up… I’ve screwed up big time.”

“Oh yeah you have. And you’re window to fix it is closing. I’m here to kick your ass into gear. You need to figure out a plan to fix this.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing, Rogers?!” Tony gestured to his whole lab.

That’s when Steve noticed the mess of papers everywhere. They littered every inch of every table, they were even scattered on the floor. He walked closer to a tab, picking up a few pages. They were starts of letters, ideas for how to show his love. Every idea Tony could think of to try and win you back. He just didn’t think any of them were good enough. That’s when Steve’s heart hurt for Tony.

“You understand now?” Tony quietly asked after giving Steve some time to look at the papers. “I just… nothing’s good enough. And I’m scared. I… I can’t lose her. I… well…” Tony dug into one of his pockets, pulling out a diamond ring. “I was planning to propose. In two weeks, our 3rd anniversary. But now… Y/N was right. I had JARVIS even run a check. I always leave her, without a word. I’m surprised she didn’t leave me sooner.”

“Tony,” Steve called, coming up to set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yes, you screwed up. But Y/N loves you and you love her. Take it from the leading authority on missing chances. Don’t.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Good thing, I do.”

~~~

The knocking on the front door of the apartment was strange. In the week you had been there, no one had ever knocked. Curious, you slowly got up, realizing how sore your body was from the curled up position it had been in as you moved to the door. You peaked through the peep hole, only to see a delivery man carrying a large vase of your favorite flowers. You furrowed your brow as you opened the door and accepted the vase. Moving towards the kitchen, you noticed a note, hidden in the middle of the flowers. After setting the flowers on the table, you carefully picked up the note.

Y/N, no words will ever be able to adequately express how sorry I am for the words I said and the constant pain I have brought you. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t leave me sooner. I know you probably want to be left alone. But I cannot let you leave for good without trying to get you back. I know that my promises mean nothing to you, I have broken too many of them. So instead of promising, I will show you. These flowers are the first step in that process. I love you a great deal, honey. And I intend on showing you that everyday. With all my love, TS. (PS - Don’t worry, the Old Man, Red, and Katniss wouldn’t let me have your address. I don’t know where you are still. Which is honestly killing me. But they have agreed to help. Don’t be mad at them.)

As you had read the clearly handwritten note from Tony, tears had sprung. Tears of anger, heart break, and love. You set the note on the table, staring at the flowers. You didn’t want to throw them away, because they were from Tony. But you also did want to look at them, because they were from Tony. Stuffing them in a corner of the apartment, you got yourself a drink and a small snack and went back to bed. The days continued on like that, with gifts and notes from Tony.

Day 2 - your favorite food was delivered to you, with a note saying that Tony was eating the same things that night as well.

Day 3 - your favorite dessert was brought to you.

Day 4 - Tony had found his favorite photos of the two of you and put them in a little book with his thoughts.

Day 5 - a new set of pajamas was sent to you. The note that day said that he new that was all you were wearing and that you deserved a new, comfy set. He also said that he got himself matching ones.

Day 6 - he sent his pillow. This came as a surprise. You hugged it tightly to your chest, smelling him on it, as you read that days note.

“I have used your pillow since you left. The smell of you is slowly fading from it. Today, I thought that you might be missing cuddling up in bed with me about as much as I miss cuddling up next to you each night. Here’s my pillow. I hope it brings you comfort. Missing you every second, TS.”

Day 7 - Tony sent you a tablet. In the note, he promised that he wasn’t trying to track you. He just wanted to send you videos and maybe, if you wanted, you would send one back. He sent many videos everyday, basically having JARVIS record and send you everything he was doing.

Day 8 - New flowers came to replace the old ones.

Day 9 - He sent you a new suit design he was working on through the tablet. Asking for your opinion. To his surprise, you had sent him back a reply with suggestions. Though merely a typed message through the tablet, Tony knew it was progress.

Day 10 - your favorite dinner and dessert was sent to the apartment.

Day 11 - a new pillow case, smelling like Tony was sent to you. This time, you sent a pillow case smelling like you back.

Day 12 - two tickets to see your favorite broadway show in a few months. He promised that you didn’t have to take him.

Day 13 - was just a day full of videos. You had got videos everyday since he sent the tablet, but this was all different. You noticed that Tony was nervous, jittery. Something was on his mind. And it made you concerned. So you sent him a video.

“Tony, I can see that something is making you nervous,” you began. “Don’t be. Whatever it is, will work itself out.”

Tony couldn’t help but tear up. You were worried about him, you still cared. Though, it didn’t help with is nerves because day 14 was the biggest risk yet, for it was your 3rd anniversary.

Day 14’s gift came in the middle of the day. A dress in his favorite color and cut to see you in, shoes, a new necklace. Looking at the outfit, confused, you noticed a new video pop up on your tablet. You went over and pressed play, allowing Tony’s face to fill the screen.

“Hey, honey,” it was clear he was nervous. “I don’t know if you remember—actually, of course you remember. I’m the one who always forgets… it’s our 3rd anniversary. I know that I told you that I’d give you space, though still sending you gifts. But I had to try, today of all days, a little harder. I… um… well… I reserved our restaurant for tonight. Not just our table, but the whole thing, for just the two of us. Uh, I was thinking that, maybe, you could met me there tonight. That’s what the outfit is for. If you completely hate it, then you can throw it out. Honestly, you could come all dirty and grimy and I wouldn’t care as long as you show up… I’ll be waiting. 7 pm sharp… I love you, Y/N.”

You were torn. You wanted to still be mad at him. But who could be mad at someone who was clearly trying and being so incredibly thoughtful? You paced around the apartment all day, not bothering to answer to Tony’s video. You had no idea what you were going to do.

~~~

Tony had shown up, all dressed up in his new suit and bow tie, two hours early. He was a nervous wreck, wanting to make everything perfect for you. If you showed up and everything went as he had hoped, then he was going to propose to you tonight. And if you didn’t show up, he’d know his answer.

He was sitting at the table, knee bouncing, taking sips of his water. The waitress had been surprised when he turned down alcohol, but he wanted a clear head for tonight. He constantly glanced as his watch. It was currently 6:59. Tony looked up, staring at the window with hope in his heart. When he looked back down at his watch, it was 7:05. You were late, if you were even coming. Maybe you were doing what he had done to you so many times? Pay back perhaps? Still, he continued to look out the window. Looking down at it watch to see it was 7:10, the restaurant door swung open. Tony was quickly standing. There you were, in the new outfit he had bought you, hurrying towards him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” You were frantic. “I couldn’t get a cab, and then traffic was a nightmare! I even left so that I would be 30 minutes early, not late. I’m so—“

But you didn’t get anymore words out because suddenly, Tony was in front of you with his lips on yours. His hands were gripping onto your hips like his life depended on it. At this point, Tony didn’t care if you were here to officially end things. You had come. That’s all that mattered.

“I love you,” he breathed as you two pulled apart. Tony rested his forehead against yours. “I love you so much. And the last three weeks without you by my side as been literal hell.”

“Tony—“

He pulled back, looking into your eyes, pleading with you. “Just, please, let me finish.” You nodded. “I’ve realized something I clearly always knew, but took for granted. I can’t survive unless you’re by my side. Going on missions, traveling for the company, has always been hard. But I could manage because I knew I was coming home to you. It’s always been you. So…” Tony dug through his pocket as he got down on one knee. “This is extremely nerve-wracking for me, so please me kind.” He pulled out a ring.

“Tony!” You gasped.

He looked up with eyes full of love, and tears. “I don’t want to spend another second without knowing that we’ll be together, forever. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Stark, pamper you with love and affection, whenever I want. I want you to be able to trust in me, to know that no matter what, I’ll be there. I want a chance to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve. So, Y/N, marry me.”

“That wasn’t a question, Tony,” you teased. “That was a statement.”

“It’s cause I’m hoping I don’t have to ask.”

“Yes, Tony.” You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I’ll marry you.”

“Oh thank god,” he said, visibly relaxing. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I was honestly a little scared there.” He slipped the ring on your finger and stood up. He kissed you fiercely, pouring every ounce of love he had into it. “Are you sure?” He pulled back. “I just want to make sure before I—“

You cut him off with a kiss. “I love you, Tony. And yes, we have to work on somethings… but I’m sure.”

#tony stark x reader #iron man x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #tony stark imagine #iron man imagine #tony stark #Iron Man

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mymoonagedaydream · 3 years

Text

Home (Part 3)

Summary: You’d made your decision, now all you had to do was stick to it.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: Final part, hope y’all like it :)

---

You woke up the next morning feeling sick, memories of the night before flooding into your mind as soon as your eyes peeled open.

The dejection in Bucky's face as he stood up and left, how he didn’t look back even as you called his name, the sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs and the slamming of the front door.

How he’d left the ring box on your dresser, where it was still sitting, unopened.

You buried your face in the pillow and did all you could to push last night out of your mind, but it was impossible trying to claw your way out of this pit of despair whilst being peppered with pangs of guilt and remorse that kicked you further and further down. Eventually you just had to accept that there was no way you’d be able to stop thinking about it.

And the more you thought about it, the more you doubted your decision.

An increasingly loud voice in the back of your head was screaming at you that these past few days were the happiest you’d had in such a long time, so you must’ve been insane to turn down Bucky’s offer of making this life permanent, while the rest of your brain was ferociously arguing that there was far too much you’d have to give up to make that happen.

Were you really going to turn your back on the life you’d been working so hard towards for the past two years? At times it could be lonely and thankless, but it’s what you’d always wanted.

So much had changed, you and Bucky had your own, separate lives now. You couldn’t just suddenly drop everything and move back home... right?

You went round and round in your head like that for hours, slowly building new trains of thought just to watch them derail and catch fire, fully aware that it was creeping up to midday but entirely unable to muster up the energy to get out of bed.

The destructive cycle was finally broken by a faint knock at the door.

You slowly sat up as it inched open, your mother’s head appearing in the gap.

‘You want to talk, sweetie?’ Wiping your face, you nodded faintly, prompting her to step in and close the door behind her. ‘What on earth happened last night?’

Without a word, you gestured your head towards your dresser. All the colour drained from her face when she spotted it.

‘Oh fuc- is that- did he- what did you say?’

‘He bought it before I moved.’

‘Holy shit.’

A short, half-hearted chuckle escaped your lips. She really had a knack for effectively summing up complex, emotional sentiments in the shortest and sweetest of ways.

You folded your legs as she perched herself on the edge of your bed and started to stroke your shoulder, her face swimming with intense concern and pity.

‘Well he left very suddenly, so I’m guessing that conversation didn’t have a happy ending.’

‘He asked me to stay.’ Her mouth fell open, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. ‘But I can’t, right? We both have our own lives now. I have my job and he has the workshop, too much has-’

‘Sweetie. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?’

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees up to your chest. ‘I just need time to think about everything.’

‘Well, do you love him?’ It took less than a second of deliberation before you felt yourself begin to nod. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘I don’t know.’

The two of you sat in silence for a minute. You could see her really scrambling to find the perfect thing to say, something that would make it all better, but she seemed to draw a blank. Instead, she leant forward and planted a short kiss on your forehead.

‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’

Giving you a final sympathetic smile, she stood up and headed towards the door, not hearing you whisper to yourself.

‘I always do.’

---

The next few days were like torture.

You were too nauseous to eat, constantly tired but unable to sleep and obsessed with checking your phone every few minutes to see if Bucky had tried to contact you.

You’d pined for him before, but this was different, this was painful.

Every so often you’d scroll through your contacts and hold your finger over his name, willing yourself to just suck it up and call him, but in your panic you’d always manage to convince yourself that you’d already blown it for good.

All you could think about was his face as he left, surely there was no way he’d want to hear from you again after that.

The days slipped away and, before you knew it, it was the morning of your flight.

Wearily gathering your things from your bedroom, you eyes wandered over to the ring box, still sitting where he’d left it. It didn’t feel right leaving it behind, but taking it would mean living with a constant reminder of what you’d walked away from.

You were far too tired for another internal war, you just grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket.

Your dad tried to make conversation on the drive but your mind was elsewhere. The further you travelled from home, the more cracks you could feel forming in your vision of a happy future with Bucky. It wouldn’t be long before it completely shattered.

Hugging your parents goodbye, you felt hot tears begin to stream down your face, prompting your mother to ask you over and over if you were sure about your decision.

You just nodded, plastered on a smile and turned away, making your way into the airport.

Once you got to your gate, you slumped yourself down in the waiting area, staring blankly at the floor and gently stroking the box in your pocket. Your trance was only broken when you heard the announcement.

Your flight was boarding.

Just as you heaved yourself onto your feet, your phone pinged in your pocket.

It was a text from Bucky’s mom.

Roger’s bar. He’ll be there all evening.

---

Your cab skidded to a stop and you quickly jumped out.

Glancing up at the neon sign blinking over your head, you began to hear the vague music and laughter coming from inside. Minutes passed as you stood out there in the snow, watching the figures through the foggy windows, building up the courage to go inside.

Taking one last deep breath, you marched forward and pulled the door open, diving into the sea of people inside.

The place was small but absolutely packed. You frantically scanned your eyes around the place, eventually spotting him, alone at the bar. A solitary, slumped figure, the only person in there who didn’t look like he was having a good time.

You pushed your way over, stopping a few feet behind him.

‘Buck.’ It came much weaker than you’d intended, he didn’t hear you over the crowd. ‘Buck!’

He spun round, his eyes widening when they settled on you. ‘Y/n? What are you doing here?’

You tried to answer, but your words got caught in your throat. Not wavering your gaze from his face, you dug the ring box out of your pocket and held it out to him.

He shook his head indignantly, grabbing it out of your hand. ‘You really came here just to give it back?’

‘No, I- I didn’t mean-’ You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. ‘Ask me.’

‘What?’

‘Ask me, if you still want to.’

His eyes flicked between your face and the box in his hand, his irritated frown softening as the corners of his mouth started to curl into an excited smile.

‘You wanna get married?’

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ You laughed through a beaming smile. ‘More than anything.’

He lunged towards you, lifting you off the ground and squeezing you tight as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You placed your hands on either side of his head, tilting it upwards and capturing his lips with yours, melting a little when you felt him smile against you.

It was only a few seconds before he pulled away, setting you back down on the floor before excitedly pulling the ring out of the box. He took your hand in his and gently slid it onto your finger.

Your breath hitched when you saw it for the first time.

‘You like it?’ Bucky snaked his arms around your waist and drew you into his chest, grinning proudly as he watched you place your hand on his shoulder and just gaze at the ring.

‘I love it.’

‘I knew you would.’ You raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to chuckle at his overt smugness. ‘I know you too well, Lilypad.’

---

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Secrets in the Moonlight

After the disappearance of his uncle, coming back to Hogwarts is harder than Derek could have imagined. Especially now that he has a secret.

For @overthetopobsessed

“Mr Hale?”

Derek shook himself from his thoughts, straightening in his seat and looking up with wide, alert eyes.

Mr Harris stared at him with the same cold, unyielding glare he always wore, but his voice held a note of irritation—bordering anger.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Derek apologised quietly.

There was a quiet buzz of whispers around the room.

“Can you tell me the difference between a werewolf and an Animagus?” Harris repeated the question.

“No, sir,” Derek replied.

Mr Harris opened his mouth to lecture Derek when a voice called out from the back of the classroom, interrupting him.

“An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can take the form of an animal and return back to their human form at any time and of their won free will, whereas a werewolf – or any were-creature for that matter – changes form against their will based on the lunar cycle.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder at the boy who had answered.

Stiles Stilinski.

The boy met Harris’ gaze defiantly, a smug smile – a common trait among Slytherins – turning up the corners of his mouth. His dark brown irises glimmered with amusement at the professor’s stunned silence. His eyes shifted to Derek, his gaze softening and his smugness fading as a friendly smile played across his lips.

“Correct, Mr Stilinski,” Harris said, his voice tense—as if saying those words pained him. “Although, next time, I would appreciate it if you showed some degree of manners and respect and raised your hand before answering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Stiles replied, but his voice was dry and everyone knew he didn’t mean it.

Harris screwed up his face bitterly, drawing in a measured breath as he held his composure. “As for you, Mr Hale—”

Derek turned back around to look at the professor as Harris took a step closer and stood at the corner of Derek’s desk.

“—leave the day dreaming for outside my classroom and don’t come to class unprepared, understood?”

Derek swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and bowed his head guiltily.

“Yes, sir,” Derek answered meekly.

“Very good.” Harris let out a huff before turning sharply and strutting back to the front of the classroom and continuing the lesson.

Derek waited for a second before glancing over his shoulder.

Stiles met his gaze. Derek didn’t have to say ‘thank you’; Stiles could read it in his eyes and winked mischievously in response.

Derek turned back to face the front of the class, his heart skipping a beat and a soft rosy blush colouring his cheeks, but the feeling didn’t last long.

He looked down at the text book that lay on the desk before him, the pages open to the monstrous illustration of a werewolf. It didn’t look remotely human: its limbs were elongated and its body hunched over. It was covered in fur with the bony nubs of its spine sticking out rigidly. Its arms hung by its side, hands flexed to reveal its sharp claws. The face had been elongated into a snout, the creature snarling and bearing its jagged teeth. But what stood out the most was the bright red ink that had been used to colour in the creature’s irises, giving it the illusion of glowing red eyes that stared at Derek, making his heart fill with dread and terror.

Below the illustration, bold black letters spelt out ‘LYCANTROPY: WEREWOLF’.

Derek swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat, burning at his insides. A wave of anxiety and fear clutched his heart. Unease settled in his gut as he dropped his gaze—unable to look at the picture and not wanting to look up in case someone saw the fear in his eyes.

------------------------------------------------

“What’s this I hear about you getting in trouble with Harris?” Laura asked as she caught up with her brother and walked alongside him through the crowded hallway.

Derek looked at her. She was as radiant as ever; her long brown hair cascading past her shoulder and the bold navy blue of her Ravenclaw tie bringing out the sparkle in her dark eyes.

They used to joke about needing a fourth sibling since the three Hale siblings were sorted into different houses: Laura into Ravenclaw, Derek into Hufflepuff, and Cora into Slytherin. All they needed was a Gryffindor and they had a full house.

“I wasn’t in trouble,” Derek replied. “I just didn’t hear him ask me the question.”

Laura tilted her head slightly as she looked at her brother sceptically. There was a glimmer of worry in her dark eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, trying to gently coax the truth from him.

“I know,” Derek replied, trying to reassure her.

It didn’t work.

She kept her gaze fixed on him.

“I’m fine,” Derek insisted.

“If you say so,” Laura said quietly, backing down; she still didn’t believe him, but she knew him better than to keep prying—Derek would only shut down if she did.

Derek drew in a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll see you at the quidditch game.”

“Who are you cheering for?” Laura asked—calling after her brother as he began to walk away.

Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff.

And his big sister was Ravenclaw’s star player.

“You,” Derek answered. “Like I always do.”

Laura offered him a sweet smile, but it fell from her face as her brother turned his back and disappeared into the sea of people. The worry still lingered in her eyes as she watched him leave.

------------------------------------------------

The library was a large space filled with towering shelves full of old hardcover books, leather bound journals and other books that looked like antiques, all bound in magnificent colours of scarlet, burgundy, deep green, gold, and grey. The spines of the books were decorated by gold or silver lettering that read the titles, adorned with small metal studs and a few were even fastened with small hinges that looked to be made of brass or silver.

The shelves covered all the walls, large ladders on casters were scattered about the room where the occupants had last left them. Higher up, there was a small platform that stretched around the room, a mezzanine that allowed them to access another storey of bookshelves that the ladders couldn't reach. High above everything was a dome-like sky light, the slightly misted glass allowing the golden light of day to drift into the large library and illuminate the shadowed space.

Several books moved on their own, returning to the shelves and sorting themselves into the right places.

On the far side of the room was a small fireplace with a marble mantelpiece. Atop the mantelpiece sat a few of the sturdier-looking books, some candles and a vase of flowers that never seemed to wilt—probably because the librarian hexed them. Before the fireplace sat two arm chairs and a larger couch, each made of beige fabric that were covered in a faded floral pattern. Two Gryffindor students sat on the rug before the fireplace with their books sprawled out in front of them as they talked quietly.

Derek sat on his own among the rows of tables and chairs set up for students to study.

The library was quiet, which was both a blessing and a curse: it was a place where Derek could get away from all the noise and chaos, but it also meant he was left alone with his thoughts.

He tried to drown them out, focusing on his homework.

A stack of textbooks were piled up beside him, several more lying open on the desk before him as his quill scratched at the paper of his notebooks, leaving elegant scrawls of ink in its wake.

“This seat taken?” a familiar voice asked.

Derek glanced up, his aventurine eyes meeting the smoky quarts depths.

“Uh, no,” Derek stammered. He gestured to the seat. “Please.”

Stiles set his books down on the table and pulled out the chair across from Derek. He sat down and opened up his books.

Derek bowed his head and glanced up through his eyelashes, watching as Stiles’ dark eyes danced across the pages as he read the lines of text.

“I didn’t get the chance to say thank you for this morning,” Derek said.

“No need. Harris is an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

Stiles glanced up at Derek, offering him a friendly smile.

Derek smiled in return.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins that Derek knew—he wasn’t obnoxious, prideful, arrogant or snarky. Maybe that was because he wasn’t a pureblood like most of the others; his mother was a witch, but his father was a muggle—a police officer, apparently. Stiles had grown up in the muggle world, far away from magic. He tried to make up for it—working twice as hard to prove he had what it took to be there, but he didn’t need to; he was smarter and more powerful than any other student. His only weakness was he was powerful, but he had no idea how to control it.

The hiss of whispers reached his ears. Derek turned his head slightly to see two students glance at him before turning away and gossiping.

“Ignore them,” Stiles said softly.

Derek turned back to his text book, feeling his chest tighten and his heart hammer against his ribs.

“They’re talking about my uncle, aren’t they?” Derek asked.

“Most likely,” Stiles replied.

Peter Hale was well known in the wizarding world, but he disappeared the week before Derek and his sisters went on break. No Aurors had been able to track him down and many believed he was dead. When the Hale siblings returned to Hogwarts, everyone looked the other way or talked behind their backs. The whispers followed Derek everywhere.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles lifted his head, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What for?”

“For not treating me different.”

The corner of Stiles’ lips turned up in a kind smile.

Derek bowed his head, trying to focus on his homework, but his mind kept going back to the monstrous illustration.

“You know a lot about werewolves,” Derek remarked, unsure of how to start the conversation.

“I guess so,” Stiles said modestly. “I tend to take in a whole lot of information—most of it is useless.”

“Is it possible for a werewolf to become an Animagus?”

Stiles sat back in his seat, thinking it over for a second. “I don’t know for sure, but I did read something about a werewolf gaining control of their shifts by defying their alpha. But that either means defeating them or finding an anchor strong enough to keep your humanity in control of you psyche.”

“An anchor?”

“An anchor is something meaningful to you; you bind yourself to it to keep your human side in control,” Stiles explained. “It can be a memory, a person, a place or an object—it just has to mean something to you. At least that’s what I read about Animagi Transfiguration, so I guess it would be something similar in the case of a werewolf controlling their transformation.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully.

“A werewolf becoming an Animagus is extremely rare and probably very difficult,” Stiles continued. “But I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Derek felt the tension in his gut ease, letting out a sigh of relief as hope found its way back into his heart.

------------------------------------------------

He felt the burn of power flow through his veins, setting his nerves on fire as the lure of the moon hummed ignited his senses.

He made his way out of the castle, sneaking out through the passage his uncle had told him about back in his first year—the one Peter had found during his time at Hogwarts. The cool night air met him, offering little relief to the searing heat that flooded his veins.

Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, soaking through his shirt and making the fabric cling to his skin.

His breathing grew heavy as he staggered towards the shelter of the forest that bordered the school.

A piercing howl rang out through the night, making Derek’s heart leap in his chest.

There was a sharp rush of air as a figure appeared before him. His dark hair a tousled mess and his clothing dishevelled. He clutched his fir wand, the pale wood standing out against the darkness.

“Stiles?” Derek rasped, feeling fear clutch his heart. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” Stiles replied. “I nearly got caught sneaking out of the dorms. I was trying to get to the Gryffindor dorms; seems like I missed the mark.”

Stiles froze, his eyes widening as he looked at Derek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice edged with worry. “You don’t look too good.”

“It’s not safe out here.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, his voice catching in his throat as hesitation and anxiety filled his chest.

“You have to go.”

“Derek, you’re starting to scare me.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something but his words caught in his throat as a low growl echoed from the shadows.

Stiles wheeled around, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest.

The bushes rustled, clumps of leaves and low hanging branches crackling, shaking and breaking as a big black shadow slinked into the open, broad feet thumping the ground. Their claws dug into the mud, upturning the dirt and releasing the sweet earthy scent.

A pair of glowing red eyes emerged from the shadows, the thin veil of moonlight illuminating the creature’s figure as it stalked forward. The creature rose up onto its hind feet. Its large form was unhuman; standing tall on curved, slender legs. The bright red eyes were set above an elongated snout. Long arms hung at its side, disfigured hands – hairy like a wolf’s paws – stretched, thick, curved claws lit by the bleeding streams of moonlight.

Stiles froze, eyes wide.

It snarled, baring its ivory teeth as it focused its glare on Stiles.

Stiles staggered back slightly, his mind screaming at him to run but he couldn’t move; his body was frozen in place.

“Derek?” he rasped, glancing over his shoulder.

The clouds parted, exposing the moon.

Derek winced, doubling over in pain.

“Derek?” Stiles called, alarmed.

Derek’s eyes flew open, his pale adventuring irises glowing crimson.

“Run,” he growled.

Stiles flailed about, stumbling backwards. His feet pedalled beneath him. He lost his footing on the uneven ground, falling against the damp earth. He turned, using a hand to steady himself as he leapt to his feet and tore into the darkness.

He ran along the tree line, glancing over his shoulder as he saw a dark figure charge towards him.

He sprinted through the dense forest, weaving his way through the labyrinth of thick tree trunks. He sprung over the fallen trees, broken branches and thick shrubs, his nimble legs and spring-locked ankles projecting him over the large logs. The thick undergrowth and claw-like twigs dragged at his feet. He tried to keep himself upright, struggling not to stumble or trip as he sprinted away from the massacre.

The sounds of low growls and spine-chilling howls drained away, disappearing behind him as he ran further and further into the dense forest.

He took a sharp turn, heading back towards the castle grounds. He broke through the tree line, slowing his pace as he neared the Whomping Willow. He turned, running on the spot as he looked back at the forest—checking to see if anyone – or anything – had followed him.

He let out a sigh of relief, letting his nerves calm. He drew in heavy breaths, trying to slow his breathing.

Stiles was tackled to the ground, letting out a pained wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. His eyes flew open wide, looking up at the glowing red irises of the werewolf.

He thrashed about, letting out a vicious animalistic cry as he tried to fight the creature off.

The werewolf pinned him to the ground, sharp rocks tearing open Stiles’ pale skin as the werewolf pushed them against the ground. Stiles felt a sharp wave of pain flood his arms, his bones near breaking.

Then, all of a sudden, the weight was gone.

There was a rush of air as the second werewolf tacked the alpha off of him, knocking him to the ground and fighting him.

Stiles rolled onto his side, scrambling to his feet and sprinting towards the swaying branches of the Whomping Willow. He dodged past the branches that swung at him, the thick wood hitting the earth with a heavy crash that snapped off twigs, shook the earth, and sent dirt flying through the air.

Stiles dove towards the trunk, something catching his eye. Among the twisted aged wood of the tree was an ancient door.

Stiles pulled open the small door that was built into the base of the tree. He pulled the ricket wooden door shut behind himself, staring at it for a second before slowly backing up.

He made his way down the flight of rickety stairs, following them into a large room. The windows were all boarded up, the moonlight bleeding through the thin gaps enough for Stiles to see.

He drew in steady breaths, calming himself as he looked around. The wind that blew past the windows echoed like screams as it rattled the glass and a draught blew through the warped wooden walls.

“Shrieking Shack,” Stiles muttered.

The wooden panelling of the doors were broken in, some doors lying off their hinges. The walls had patches of plaster missing, exposing the wooden framing beneath. The decorative wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the wooden floorboards warped, worn down with time and covered in stains. Every piece of furniture was moth-eaten and broken—as though someone has smashed it in a fit of rage.

There was a thin layer of dust over everything.

He stepped through one of the other doors, looking down the old staircase and into the foyer of the Shack. There was an old chair that had one of its legs ripped off.

He stepped back into the room. Beside him was an old four post bed, the wooden base snapped in half and the frame that had once held up the canopy had fallen down.

He edged over to the bed, lowering himself into the shadows that dwelled in the corner where the bed met the wall. He shrunk down into the darkness, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He waited.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, stopping him from falling asleep, but his eyes grew heavy as he stared at the warped hardwood floors.

The light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

There was a loud crash as someone came sprinting down the stairs that lead up to the Whomping Willow.

Stiles’ heart leapt into his chest. He shifted, crouching behind the bed as he readied himself to run.

“Stiles?” a familiar voice called out.

Derek stumbled into the room, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths as he frantically looked around the dark, decrepit interior of the Shrieking Shack.

Stiles shifted slightly, rising to his feet and stepping out from behind the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?”

Stiles tightened his grip on his wand, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. His voice was quiet and raspy, but firm as he said, “Explain. Now.”

Derek dropped his gaze. “When my uncle went missing a few weeks ago, I stupidly thought I was the only person who could find him. I ran away from home to go look for him. A few hours after walking through the woods behind my family’s estate, I was attacked. It was a rogue werewolf.”

“One that holds its shape,” Stiles confirmed.

Derek nodded.

He fell silent for a minute, feeling his chest tighten and his gut twist in knots.

“It bit me,” he admitted.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles said. A thought struck him, a look of realisation washing over his face. “That’s why you asked whether a werewolf could become an Animagus.”

Derek nodded.

“And the, uh—the other werewolf. Was that the rogue that bit you?”

Derek nodded again.

“I’m so sorry… I never meant to put you in danger,” Derek said, his voice breaking and full of pain.

“You didn’t put me in danger,” Stiles replied. “I just have a tendency to stumble right into it.”

“Are you hurt?” Derek asked, his voice full of concern.

Stiles looked down at himself, his pale flesh was caked in mud and covered in bloody welts where sticks and stones had scratched open his skin.

“Just a few bumps and bruises,” Stiles said dismissively. “Nothing too bad. How about you?”

Derek seemed taken back by the question.

“I—I’m fine,” he said. He glanced down at his arms, the tan flesh marred by dark bruises and faint pink lines where thick gashes were stitching themselves back together. “Werewolves heal quickly.”

Derek glanced back over his shoulder, up the stairs at the door that lead back outside.

“We should gat back,” he said. “Everyone will be waking up soon.”

Stiles nodded, slowly edging towards Derek.

Derek took no offence to Stiles’ hesitation; he was surprised that he trusted him at all. He led the way up the stairs and pushed open the rickety door at the base of the Whomping Willow. He squinted slightly as he stepped out of the cool shadows and into the world lit by the golden glow of the morning light. He looked up at the thrashing branches, feeling his chest tighten anxiously.

Stiles stepped up to Derek’s side, both of them keeping their back pressed against the thick tree trunk. He held his wand out.

“Immobulus.”

The branches stilled, frozen mid-action.

Stiles drew in a measured breath and took a step forward, and then another, making his way across the divots and dirt holes that covered the ground beneath the Willow.

He and Derek made their way back across the open field and up to the gates of Hogwarts, where Mr Harris stood, his arms crossed over his chest and his cold eyes staring down at the boys. Beside him stood Coach Finstock, his dark unkempt hair sticking up at all angles.

“Mr Stilinski, I expect this kind of behaviour from you, but Mr Hale – I must admit – I am surprised to see you,” Harris said, his voice cold.

“Everyone’s looking for the two of you,” Coach added. “I hope you have a good explanation for this.”

Derek bowed his head, his stomach twisting in knots as a sickening wave of bile rose into his throat. This was it; he’d be exposed and sent to Azkaban.

“I was helping Derek study,” Stiles lied. “We nearly got caught outside of the dorms after lights out and we panicked, so we apparated and ended up outside where we were attacked by a werewolf.”

Derek blinked in surprise, glancing out the corner of his eye at Stiles.

Harris looked at him, his face deadpan with disbelief. “A werewolf?”

Stiles met his gaze defiantly.

“A werewolf,” he said firmly. “We were chased into the Shrieking Shack and hid there until the sun came up.”

“That’s quite the fanciful story, Mr Stilinski.”

“It’s the truth,” Stiles insisted.

Harris opened his mouth to say something but Coach Finstock held up his hand, interrupting them.

“We’ll decide what to do with the two of you later, for now go back to your dorm rooms and clean yourselves up,” Coach instructed. He turned to Mr Harris. “Why don’t you go tell the others that we’ve found them.”

Harris let out a measured breath and turned sharply, storming off down the hall.

Stiles and Derek turned the other way and began to head down the hall.

“Mr Hale, a moment,” Coach called after him.

Derek stopped, glancing at Stiles before turning back to Coach.

Coach lowered his voice. “I know things have been tough for you since your uncle went missing, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to start acting recklessly and breaking the rules. It’s not going to change anything.”

Derek bowed his head.

“Your sisters were worried sick when they found out you were missing,” Coach continued. “I know things are hard for you, but you’re not alone; think about them.”

Derek nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Coach said. He gently patted Derek on the shoulder “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.”

Derek nodded again, turning and making his way down the halls. He made his way to the shifting staircases, the buzz of chatter reaching his ears. He glanced up to see crowds of students gathered on the stairs and the landings, staring at the walls and talking quietly.

Among the crowd he spotted a familiar face.

“Cora,” he called out, hurrying over to his sister’s side.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cora growled.

“It’s a long story,” Derek dismissed. “What’s going on?”

“The paintings,” Cora said.

The crowd parted and Derek saw what she meant. The paintings that hung on the walls were destroyed—the canvases were slashed, the frames broken or hanging crooked, and the living portraits injured and cowering in fear.

“What happened?”

“The paintings say some kind of wolf tore through the castle,” Cora replied.

Derek’s heart sank into his gut.

“A wolf?” Derek repeated, his voice catching in his throat.

His eyes followed the trail of destruction, a path winding around the walls and leading up to the higher flights of stairs—to the Slytherin dorms.

“Stiles.”

------------------------------------------------

Stiles dragged his feet across the smooth wooden floorboards of the dorm room. His eyes were heavy and his movements slow and lethargic as he shrugged off the mod-stained hoodie that he wore. He tossed it over the end of his bed, stepping over to his trunk and pulling out his uniform.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion; no one else should be in the dorms.

He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see who was there. His heart dropped.

He barely caught a glimpse of the alpha’s glowing red eyes before he lunged at Stiles.

Stiles dove aside, reaching for his wand, but the werewolf tackled him to the ground. He thrashed around, his elbow colliding with the creature’s jaw as he tried to fight back or break free.

The werewolf pinned him to the floor, pressing their weight against the teen’s wrists until his frail bones threatened to break. The alpha’s jagged talons tore through the pale skin of Stiles’ arm. The bitter metallic smell filled Stiles’ nose as streams of blood coursed across his skin, the searing pain igniting every nerve in his body and flooding his veins.

Stiles cried out in pain.

The alpha let out a low growl, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he leant in closer.

Stiles felt the heat of the creature’s breath against his skin, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell from his eyes.

He let out a broken sob.

There was another growl, one more fierce than the alpha’s low, threatening rumble.

Stiles hesitantly opened his eyes to see the alpha tackled off of him. He turned his head to see Derek thrown back.

Derek let out a stifled grunt as he hit the solid wooden frame of one of the beds. He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he charged at the alpha.

He slashed at him blocking his bows and fighting back as he put himself between the alpha and Stiles; protecting him.

The alpha snapped and snarled, his claws tearing at Derek’s clothes and clawing open his skin.

Streams of red stained Derek’s skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He fought back, but the alpha was too strong for him.

The alpha threw Derek back against the far wall. His head slammed against the rough bricks, bursts of light and colour blinding him as he dropped to his hands and knees.

The alpha grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet.

Derek let out a strangled breath, kicking out as he tried to free himself.

The alpha’s grip didn’t waver.

The crimson glow of the creature’s eyes was full of bloodlust as he raised his arm, flexing his claws; ready to kill Derek.

The alpha froze, his body stiffening.

His grip weakened.

Derek fell to the floor, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for breath.

The alpha collapsed, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

Derek looked across the room to see Stiles, half slouched against his bed with his other arm outstretched and his wand in his hand.

Stiles slowly lowered his wand, his shoulder rising and falling with heavy breaths.

There was a thundering crash as the door to the dorms was thrown open.

Harris and Coach rushed into the room, skidding to a halt as they looked around the room.

Harris’ eyes fell on the werewolf, growing wide.

“Quite the fanciful story, huh?” Stiles said bitterly between broken breaths.

Harris shook himself from his stupor, straightening as he looked between the two boys. “Let’s get you two to the infirmary.”

Derek sluggishly pushed himself upright, bracing himself on the wall and he rose to his feet. He staggered across the dorm room, holding his hand out to Stiles and helping him to his feet.

A crowd od students gathered behind Harris, craning their necks to look in through the doorway.

A small figure shoved her way through the crowd, pushing past Harris and into the room despite his objections. She rushed across the room, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

Derek let out a small sigh, wrapping his arms around Cora’s narrow shoulders and holding her tight.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Oh my God,” Coach uttered, his quiet voice catching their attention.

Cora stepped back. Derek and Stiles turned, following Coach’s gaze to where the alpha lay on the floor, shifting back to his human form.

Coach grabbed a blanket from one of the beds, draping it across the man’s body.

Derek couldn’t take his eyes of the man.

The slender body lay bare on the ground, his fair skin covered in pale white scars. His chest slowly rose and fell with even breaths. Black ink stood out on the underside of his forearm, the Slytherin crest tattooed into his skin and a bold black triskelion on his wrist. His light brown hair was streaked with grey and longer than Derek remembered, but the man’s weary face was the same as always.

Derek’s heart stopped.

“Peter.”

#sterek #sterek au #sterek hp au #sterek harry potter au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #long post #text post #slytherin stiles #slytherin!stiles #hufflepuff derek #hufflepuff!derek #please read the tags on ao3 #for overthetopobsessed #overthetopobsessed #sorry it took so long

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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rainbowvamp · 3 years

Text

Choices made, Roads Taken

babe wake up new princess bride au chapter just dropped.

Full text beneath the cut. Warnings for talk of marriage as a necessary step in a woman's life, fear of homelessness, and I don't think anything else but I've written 20k since I last edited this, so if there's anything else let me know and I'll add it.

5k for the red team weekly prompt ""In life you always have a choice. Sometimes it's easier to think that you don't."

Relationships: Mergwen (platonic), and Gwen & Elyan (siblings)

Elyan tells Gwen that she has to be married by Summer's End because he's selling the forge to pursue vengeance on their father. Gwen doesn't particularly want to be married to some man she doesn't love. Enter Elyan's friend Merlin.

At least she doesn't have to get married.

---

She is 17 when Elyan tells her she has to be married soon. They have been barely scraping by for 2 years, but they have been making it. There’s no reason that Gwen can think of that anything should change, that Gwen should move on. Elyan has shown no signs of taking a wife, and who would take care of him when she was gone?

When she asks this question, he doesn’t answer, face stoney and set against emotion. She has a terrible clawing feeling that she knows what will happen once she is married.

He starts making inquiries around the village. Plenty of men are interested, but in secret, Elyan always asks Gwen “yes or no,” always gives her the choice. She refuses to be married to a man who will not treat her kindly, or is too old or too young, and eventually she runs out of men in nearby villages to marry, and Elyan loses his patience with her.

“There has to be someone, Guinevere. Someone! I can’t search the five Kingdoms for your husband, and your time is running short. You must be married by the end of the summer.”

It is already middle spring. Gwen’s blood is audible in her ears as it rushes through her, carrying the heart sinking knowledge with it.

“What have you done, Elyan?” She whispers it, afraid to say it any louder than she must.

Elyan won’t look at her, finds anything else to set his eyes on while he thinks up an excuse. “I just think you’re getting old.”

It’s a cruel thing to say, and he knows it, but his voice is distracted, and his eyes shift from place to place, never quite settling while he speaks. He lies, and she knows it.

“Again. The truth this time.”

When she sets her hands on her hips like that, it reminds him of their mother, and it makes him feel contrite. She knows this, because he told her once, as a joke, and she’s used it against him ever since.

“I’ve sold the forge. The new tenant will take the house and the forge come Autumn. You have to have somewhere to go by then. A husband will take care of you.”

“And what about you?” She glared at him, biting her cheek to stop herself from yelling. “What are you going to do? Unless you’re courting some woman I don’t know about?”

Elyan’s eyes settle at their feet, hands behind his back, childlike, caught completely in his lie.

“I’ve been studying.” Elyan said, but his eyes never left their feet. “I’m going to travel, learn more.”

“To what end?” She asked, and Elyan still did not look at her.

“I cannot tell you.” Finally his eyes meet hers, and Gwen had this terrible, sneaking suspcion that she dared not speak.

“You’ll get yourself killed.” She said instead, and Elyan’s shoulders squared.

“And if I do, I’ll know you’re taken care of. You choose a husband by midsummer, so you can be married before autumn, or I choose one for you.”

Gwen sets her jaw and fists the fabric of her skirt to keep her nails from digging into her palm, drawing blood as they seem to do so often these days.

“If you force me to marry someone I do not care for, I will hate you forever.”

Elyan looks away from her and grabs this leather forge gloves. “Maybe. But you will be cared for. That much I will assure.”

Elyan leaves, goes to the forge for the day, and Gwen is left with the day’s chores and the laundry of two other families to attend to. She starts with the laundry, because she needs to have it back by tomorrow morning. The chores can wait. They often do. The house is nowhere near as clean and tidy as it was when father was alive, but they are making it, and making it is as much as she ever hopes for anymore. She loves her brother, but if he marries her off, she will never forgive him.

—

She says no to three more men before Elyan comes home from the forge one day with a dark haired man who must be older than her by a significant amount. He looks 25, at least, but Gwen doesn’t look at him much. She hopes that if he thinks she’s rude, he’ll lose interest.

“Guinevere,” Elyan rarely uses her full name to introduce her, but he is trying to sell her off like a prize pig, so it only makes sense that he would use it now. “This is Merlin Emrys. He’s a merchant, and a physician, passing through town. He’ll be having supper with us tonight.”

It goes without saying that he’ll stay the night as well. She and Elyan have shared their parents bed numerous times to give lodging to a traveler. It’s easy money, good money, but Gwen is tired from washing all day, and angry besides because Elyan had chewed her out for not choosing a husband again that morning and she was still miffed about it.

“I’ll set an extra plate,” Is all that she says to her brother, taking more vegetables from her stock to cut up and add to the stew she’d just put on. It would stretch a little longer with the vegetables, but wouldn’t be as filling. She could’ve added more of the dried meat, or even baked a quick bread, but she was trying specifically not to impress this man who was traveling alone and hadn’t mentioned a wife yet. While Merlin and Elyan talked, Gwen got out the guest linens and made the cot, set the little house to rights as much as she could, and stirred the soup regularly.

“That smells excellent, Guinevere. I’ve had road rations for so long, this meal will be a treat.” Merlin tells her, and she doesn’t turn from where she’s stirring the pot when she answers.

“I’m glad.” Her tone is curt and she doesn’t sound glad at all. She doesn’t feel glad. She wished this man would just disappear. She wished Elyan would keep the forge and they could continue on as they were. Gwen didn’t care for boys, or for marriage, and why she should have to, just because Elyan wanted to study swordplay and kill-

She stopped her train of thought there. It was treason to even think it.

At least her brother wanted her married off and far away before he tried. It was a kindness as much as it was a cruelty.

Gwen wondered if she’d ever see her brother again once she married. It’s not like the King is an easily accessible person just waiting around to be-

“Guinevere, tell Merlin about your sewing. The embroidery you were doing for the Henrick’s bridal gown.” Elyan is trying to show her off, make her brag. Politeness dictates how she behaves, but it doesn’t dictate her tone. She leaves the spoon sitting on the little fire burning stove and goes to the back of the cottage where her needlework is kept. She’s nearly done with the embroidery for the future Mrs. Henrick, and it’s very beautiful, even if she said so herself. She brings the whole basket over and plops it on the table unceremoniously in front of Merlin. He doesn’t even flinch, which aggravates her, but she pulls out the embroidery carefully, making sure the needle stuck in the fabric is right by where his hand will grab it, hoping he’ll stick himself.

He does not, unfortunately, stick himself. His hands are ginger, delicate, as he handles the soft blue fabric. The embroidery thread is as white as anything the Henrick’s can afford, and Gwen has been working on it for weeks, her labor a wedding gift to the bride-to-be. The stitching is some of her finest, delicate flowers in the soft white thread, birds and a few trees scattered in among them.

“This is beautiful.” Merlin’s fingers trace a bird, following the bird’s life cycle from the youth, through the bird of it’s young, to a tree that symbolizes it’s death. It had been a good idea, but she hadn’t thought anyone would notice.

Elyan probably told him about it.

“It’s a shame you won’t have time to make something like this for yourself.” Merlin smiles up at her like that’s not the most tragic thing he could have told her.

She turns her glare to Elyan, because she can’t very well glare at a man she’s just met. Elyan refuses to meet her eyes and she knows that at the very least he’s told this complete stranger that he’s looking for a wife for his sister, and at worst he’s offered her up to him.

She wants to call him a bastard, but she holds her tongue. She’ll let it all seethe inside for a while, and yell at Elyan when this man leaves in the morning.

“Times are hard.” Is all she says before taking the basket back to it’s corner and going back to the stew.

Usually Elyan helps her cook, but he’s entertaining their guest, and probably trying to show off how skilled she is, how domestic she is, all the wonderful wifely thing that she can do.

She hates her brother in that moment. It heats her skin and makes her nose twitch, her shoulders tense and her fingers keep losing their grip on the spoon because she wants to throw it at him.

She wants to throw a tantrum, is more like it. She is almost 18 though, and she can’t afford to gain a reputation like that. Throwing spoons, cursing at guests, those are the sorts of thing that leave women spinsters, and she doesn’t have that option anymore. Elyan is selling their home, and if she doesn’t get married she’ll be homeless right along with him.

Maybe that would be preferable, even if Elyan would hate it. He’d never abandon her, leave her alone on the streets. At least then they’d be together. Elyan is barely 19 as it is. How ready could he possibly be to be alone?

“Guinevere?” Elyan’s voice is amused, concerned, when he calls for her, but it startles her just the same, and she drops the spoon in the stew. It’s too short for the pot and she curses under her breath when it sinks beneath the stew. She’ll have to fish it out now, and Elyan is calling her again, and what does he want, what could he possibly want!

“Here,” Merlin puts his hand on her shoulder and gently, softly, coaxes her back from the stove. He smiles at her, even as she feels tears starting to well up and she’s so angry with him, and Elyan and the world. “Let me.” He mutters something softly under his breath, and spoon… floats out of pot, settles back against the side. Her mouth falls opened, awed at the spectacle, but Merlin just smiles, shrugs like this isn’t a giant, terrible secret that he should be keeping.

Magic is illegal in Camelot.

She looks at Elyan who levels her with a look that she can’t quite read. At once it tells her to be quiet, and to accept it, and to trust him. She swallows back her fear and nods, offering a half smile to Merlin before grabbing a clean towel to pull the hot spoon from the pot, dunking it in dish washing bowel to get some of food off the handle.

Merlin sits back down and continues whatever conversation he was having with Elyan while Gwen gets out flour. She hadn’t wanted to bake a bread, but now she needs something to do with her hands and she needs something to settle her stomach. She was having trouble swallowing, or she’d have gotten herself some water, maybe even a bit of ale to settle her nerves. She feels lucky that her knees don’t give way beneath her.

A magic user. Elyan had brought a magic user into their home, told him about how he was trying to marry Gwen off. The man had blatantly brandished magic right there at her stovetop and hadn’t even batted an eyelash.

Elyan was trying to get them both killed.

Personally, Gwen had always believed the rules around magic users were far too harsh and the consequences overblown, but she had never imagined that she would be harboring one. If this man is wanted for magic use, and they come looking for him here, they’ll kill all three of them. She can’t help anxiously glancing over her shoulder at Elyan, whose face is relaxed and posture so at ease considering they could very well be in mortal danger.

She sees a flash of red, her father’s lifeless body covered in blood, having to re-dirt and pack the floor of the forge to remove the stains. She remembers the merciless way the King killed their father for demanding a fair price for a sword and wonders how much they’ll all be tortured for Merlin being here if they come, when they come. Of course they’ll come. Camelot’s ruler is cruel and hateful and they will come and kill him, and them, and maybe everyone in the village.

“Gwen,” Elyan’s hand is on hers, darker than hers, like their father, and she looks at it and sees him, for a moment, sees her father touching her hand and telling her everything will be okay after mother died, promising her a bright future, squeezing it in joy-

“Gwen,” Elyan says again, lower this time. “Guinevere, I need you to let go of this.”

She looks from his hand to her own beneath it. She’s holding a knife dangerously close to her own hand, like she meant to cut her palm. She doesn’t remember even grabbing this knife. She’d been grabbing the flour, to make bread. She was going to make bread. Why did she have a knife-

“Guinevere.”

“I hate it when you use my full name.” She whispered, her hand still clutching the knife, knuckles becoming pale from the tight grip.

“I know. Can you let go of the knife please.”

“They’ll kill us, if they find him here.” She can’t stop herself form saying. Her mind is gone, somewhere else, the only thing left the part of her that had worked like a dog day and night for two years to keep them afloat.

“No one is looking for him.” Gently, Elyan takes the knife from her hand by the handle, setting it aside. She finally feels the sensation return to her body, her limbs feel heavy and her head feels empty and she needs to sit, she needs to sit.

Elyan takes her by the waist when she starts to fall, and guides her to the table, sitting her down.

“I’m not wanted for my practice. No one knows about it, except you two and old friend from back home.” Merlin speaks quietly, but Gwen doesn’t look at him, watches Elyan as he tends to the stew.

Gwen realizes that her body is shaking. She’s sitting still but her whole body is shaking, even her eyes, at the thought that she might lose Elyan.

“It’s been a hard couple of years for us. Please forgive her.” Elyan says from the stove, and Gwen doesn’t even speak up to defend herself. Her hand is shaking where it rests of the table, and she jumps nearly out of her seat when another hand, not her brothers, rests over it.

He is so pale for someone who claims to be a traveler. Is all that she can think. “Guinevere. I have a potion that helps relieve pains of the mind. Would you like some?”

“No, we don’t-“

“She’ll take it.” Elyan spoke over her, and she has at least the mental soundness to look over at him and glare.

He says nothing back, just nods to Merlin to confirm what he’s said. Merlin goes to a bag that Gwen hadn’t noticed, a beautiful shade of deep green and pulls out a little glass vial from it. He unstoppers it and puts a couple drops in the glass of water beside her hand and swirls it around.

“A full dose would put you to sleep. This is just to take the edge off, calm your nerves. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Gwen’s lips purse, and she feels like she wants to speak, but she doesn’t know what to say. What could she say? This man is helping her, which is kind of him, but he’s putting them in danger.

“I won’t marry you.” Gwen says without reaching for the cup in front of her. “Whatever Elyan has told you.”

“He said you’d say that. That’s why I don’t intend to marry you.” Merlin smiled softly at her, and she looked at her brother, confused, now.

“Merlin is a physician. He’s been looking for an apprentice for some time.”

“I don’t know anything about medicine, or potions.” She looked at the medicated cup warily.

“Apprentice usually implies that I teach you.” Merlin tries to laugh with her, but she doesn’t laugh along.

“Magic is illegal in Camelot.” We could both be executed goes unsaid, but is still heard clearly in the room.

“I’m very careful. I never use magic unless I have to, and up until a little while ago, only two people alive even knew I had magic. Now it’s up to three.” He smiles, but it doesn’t make Gwen feel any better.

“You’re going to sell me to this man.” Gwen asked her brother, her fear making her far more candid than she usually would’ve been.

“I’m not selling you to anyone.” Elyan’s voice is tense, and Merlin pushes the potion laced cup toward Gwen again.

Gwen can’t decide if she should drink it or not. She doesn’t want to, but if they’ve paid for it, it feels wasteful.

“I’m just looking for someone to help me. It’s nothing nefarious. Most of what I do is legitimate medicine, science based, not magic based.”

“What about the part that isn’t ‘most of it?’” Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and leaned away from him in her chair.

Merlin should be caught out, but instead of looking upset, he smiles. “Elyan said you were quick.”

“And a good pupil. Mrs. Henrick even taught her to read.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow. “A woman who can read isn’t exactly uncontroversial.”

“Reading is not a crime punishable by death.” Death by fire, on a pike like terrible horrible criminal. They don’t even kill you first, just set your body aflame.

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Merlin leaned forward a bit. “You’re very practical. Stubborn. You’ll keep my on my toes, keep me from getting complacent.”

“So you’ll take her on?” Elyan asked from the stove, and Gwen scoffs, outraged.

“Yes. Assuming she’ll have me. We’ll have to get you a horse.” Merlin goes back to his bag and pulls out parchment, a tiny glass bottle of ink and a pen. “Traveling clothes, I assume, a good pair of riding boots.” He opens up the bottle and dips the pen, using nicer penmanship than Gwen has ever seen outside of a book to pen the list. “Warm undergarments. A bed roll. I’m sorry the road won’t always be very comfortable, but I do have a home in Ealdor where I stay during the winter. It’s very comfortable at least.”

Gwen looks from Elyan to Merlin, and back, but she doesn’t catch either of their eyes, both too caught up in what they’re doing to look at her, to even notice her.

“Was I ever going to get a say in this?” Gwen asked, her throat dry and cracking, tears welling in her eyes at being completely ignored and pushed over.

“Gwen,” Elyan said, stopping stirring the soup and looking at her. “You’ve made it very clear you don’t want to marry. I can’t support you after the end of the summer and you have to have somewhere to go. Merlin has very graciously offered to give you a job and housing in exchange for working with him. He’s not asking to marry you doesn’t even want to marry you, he just wants to be able to tell people you’re married so no one gets suspicious of a man and woman traveling together, so you can keep your honor. Maybe once you’re on the road, you’ll meet someone you love who you can marry and make a family with.”

Gwen can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She isn’t getting a choice, is what he’s saying. She’s not getting any sort of choice in how the rest of her life goes, and he’s acting like she should be grateful.

“How dare you.” She said, teeth gritted. “You didn’t even ask me first.”

“I can’t afford to keep asking you, Gwen, or you’ll be out on the streets, homeless and begging. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ll be just fine on your own? What’s so wrong with traveling together, Elyan. You’re fine with me traveling with a strange man with gods only know what intentions, but heavens forbid I travel with my brother who loves me?!” Gwen stands, but she’s shaky and has to use the table to catch herself. She can’t even stand up straight she’s so upset. Merlin gets up and comes around the table, but she back away from him, angry that he would even presume to come near her. She stumbles and Merlin waves his hand and a chair is beneath her, keeping her from hitting the ground.

“Stop that!” Gwen yells and she gets up again, more successfully this time. “Stop it!” She yelled again when Elyan tried to grab for her. “You can’t just dictate my life for me Elyan, I’m almost 18, and I deserve a say in how I live, where I live, and who I live with. I’m not going to risk my life for a stranger. You don’t even know this man. What if he doesn’t want a wife because he’ll just take from me what he would a wife? Do you even care about that? Did it even occur to you? I’m not a dog that you can give to the neighbor when it’s time for you to go away, Elyan, I’m a person.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Elyan raises his voice now, in his sister’s face like he hasn’t been since they were children. “I need to know that you’re safe, and Merlin owes me a life debt. He will keep you safe. He will protect you when I can’t.”

“Why not? Why can’t you protect me, Elyan? Say it!” She puffs her shoulders up, her lips thin and her jaw aching where her teeth clash together and grind, helpless and pulsingly angry.

“Because I’m going to kill the king!” Elyan finally admits it, and Gwen is satisfied at the admission, but equally as horrified to know that her prediction was correct. “I’m going to kill the bastard that murdered our father in cold blood over 300! I’m going to kill him.” The last words are soft again, and Gwen feels her anger become cold, abate a bit.

Their fathers death has always bothered him. Of course, it bothered Gwen as well, and she had been angry too, but not like Elyan had been. Elyan had always regretted losing that fight, not being able to avenge their father’s death. She knew that he hated Uther, but this… she was afraid for him.

“It’s almost impossible to kill a king. Greater men than you have tried.” Gwen whispered, but Elyan shook his head.

“I have a plan, but they’ll catch me. I need you to be far away, and safe.” He takes Guinevere’s shoulders in his hands and looks her straight in the eyes. “I’ll visit you every couple of years for a while. By the time it’s done you’ll have nice, sweet, beautiful children, and a husband, and you’ll be settled. But for now, I need you to go with him.”

Gwen swallows hard. How can he ask this of her? To abandon her brother? It just doesn’t feel like an option.

“You’ll be all alone.” She finally said, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s always been us. You’ll… who will you have, out there, on your own?”

“I’ll have my memory of you, and mum, and father. Please Gwennie.”

“You swear he won’t ask me to marry him?”

“Not unless you want him to.” Elyan nodded, and Gwen sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves.

“And he’s honorable?”

“One of the most honorable men I’ve ever known.”

“How did you meet him?” She asked, swallowing around the lump in her throat again. She feels insane, even thinking about agreeing to this, but Elyan was on a death wish of a mission, and Gwen couldn’t go with him. Being a physicians assistant did sound a lot better than being married to a man she didn’t love.

“He was attacked by bandits in the woods a year before father died. I helped him fight them off, took him to his horse so he could patch himself up. He promised me he owed me a favor.”

“A life debt.” Merlin added. “I would’ve died if not for your brother. I promise, I only want to help the both of you.”

“Why have I never met him before.”

“He has magic. I thought it better he not be involved with you.”

“You knew about his magic?” She looked over her shoulder at the man who was smiling at her, far too warmly for a man she’d only met today.

“I removed an iron cuff they were keeping on him. It was practically red hot.”

“Magic and Iron don’t mix.” Merlin explained. “It dampens my abilities. They got it on me and I was basically powerless.”

Gwen took a deep breath, and then nodded, final in her decision. “I want one.”

“One what?” Elyan asked, but when she looked back at Merlin, she thought he already knew.

“I want an iron cuff, or something iron that I can put on you, in case you try something. Elyan may trust you, but how men behave amongst themselves and how they behave with women are not always corresponding.”

Merlin… smiled, of all things, and with another wave of his hands, his parchment and quill were in his hands again.

“Done. An Iron ring, I think. So you can always wear it.”

Gwen looked at her brother, who was smiling far too much for someone who had just given his sister away to a stranger.

“Fine. But I still don’t like it.”

Elyan pulled her into a hug and she was powerless to resist it. She wanted to be angry, but she was just exhausted, empty from the emotional whiplash she’d just experienced.

“I still think you should take that potion. To settle your nerves.” Merlin said.

She looked down at the cup wearily but then, as a sign of trust, picked it up and drank it’s contents down, eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

“Thank you.” She said, and Merlin smiled.

“I think dinner smells ready. Let’s eat, shall we? You can ask me any question you still have, if you like.”

—

Gwen, Elyan and Merlin burn down most of a candle that night, talking through the logistics of Gwen’s stay with Merlin. Everything from sleeping arrangements, to supplies, to clothes is set to parchment agreed to. Gwen racks her brain for anything and everything she can think of to make him agree to in front of Elyan, who he owes a life debt to. Gwen knows that Merlin owes her nothing, and she doesn’t trust that he’ll agree to anything more than what she he does right now.

“I think that’s everything.” Merlin says, smiling wide despite the bags forming beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re both ready to sleep, and so am I. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for taking care of the washing.” Elyan laugh, looking over his shoulder to the dishes had been washed and dried by Merlin’s magic. It had been remarkable to witness, even though Gwen’s skin had crawled with the fear of being caught the entire time.

“It’s the least I could do after you fed me. I’m going to go and check on my horse one last time.” This is just a way to let them talk alone, Gwen is sure, and she appreciates it.

She goes to put on her night dress behind the screen and Elyan changes as well. The night air is still cool, not yet the sticky summer heat that will soon come. So much for married by summers end.

“Thank you for agreeing to this, Gwen. It means the world to me.” Elyan smiled at her where she was climbing into bed.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“In life you always have a choice. The you’ve made is for the best.” He plants a knee on the bed so he can kiss her forehead and then goes to turn the candle out. Merlin takes this as his cue to come in. He settles on the cot in the kitchen without tripping or fumbling, which irritates Gwen just a little because she’s lived in this house all her life and still sometime stubs her toe on the kitchen table in the dark.

“Good night, Gwen, Elyan,” Merlin said to both of them, and Elyan returned the sentiment, but Gwen did not, huddling down into the covers.

Maybe she had had a choice, but her choices were limited, severely, by Elyan’s will. As she laid there, trying to fall asleep, she remembered what mother had told her once, about how excited she’d been to marry her father, and how much her mother and father had loved each other. She thinks about how her father won’t be there to hand her off to her future husband, as silly that tradition seemed, and even Elyan might not be there for it. Who would stand beside her at her wedding, if she married, if Elyan was dead?

Maybe she should get married, if only so Elyan can be there.

But to who? Who could she possibly marry? She wasn’t in love with anyone, didn’t even really fancy anyone. There weren’t that many people to fancy, in all honesty. Pickings were slim, and she liked plenty of the boys in the village, but not nearly enough to marry them.

She always had a choice, Elyan was right. She chose this, even if Elyan orchestrated it. She would just have to live with it.

Traveling with an illegal sorcerer was better than being married, at least.

#pbau proper #pbau #lysa's pbau #mergwen #bbc merlin #merlin #elyan #gwen pendragon #forgot to tag #albionparty21 #pbau au proper

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scaredyships · 3 years

Text

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. III

summary: Mando picks out the planet Sorgan for the three of you to lie low on. Things get complicated, Reader gets a glimpse of how hectic Mando's life can be as a bounty for hire, and everybody is confused about feelings.

word count: 14.5k (...help)

author’s notes: Good LORD I was stuck on this for way too long. Between my creative focus being elsewhere and just being completely stuck as to how I wanted some scenes to play out, it took a lot for me to do more than a sentence or two at a time and then forget about it for days or weeks at a time.

This was also hard to write bc I am very uhhh put off by Omera and her original role as the possible love interest and I was trying very hard to remain believable/respectful about her. Cara Dune was also hard to write because of certain actions by her actor, so she's got a little bit of a lesser role.

I'm saying this now, with future chapters I am not going to be going episode-by-episode like I originally intended. I might jump around and have some "filler" things, I may completely skip over some episode happenings, I may diverge from canon here and there, but generally the outcomes will be the same as the show. I cut out the actual battle of Sorgan too bc this is already too long and I am terrible at writing action scenes. :v

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It had been a couple days since you’d set yourself up a space in the hold. At least, it felt like a couple days. You weren’t accustomed to space travel and dealing with the lack of solar cycles to indicate the passage of time, so it was difficult to tell exactly. It didn’t really matter, in the end, but it was still a little annoying.

In that time, you spent most of your time getting to know your way around the Razor Crest’s small layout, what panels and buttons did what, and making sure the child on board was cared for and didn’t get into anything he shouldn’t. Easier said than done, as that kid was surprisingly sneaky and far too curious. He seemed well-behaved, right up until you weren’t looking, and the next thing you knew he was doing something like rooting around in a pile of netting and getting hopelessly tangled, or trying to put things in his mouth to teethe on.

Right now, the kid was up in the cockpit with Mando. Even though you were on board to help out, Mando still seemed to feel better when he was in the same room as the kid versus you being the one supervising, and to be honest it was nice to have a break from babysitting. You had never wanted kids of your own to begin with, and though this kid wasn’t exactly your standard child, it reinforced that at the end of the day, the factor of being able to give the child back to their actual caregiver played a large role in just how tolerant you were of them.

The entire ship suddenly jerked to the side and sent you crashing into the hull wall, your shins narrowly avoiding smashing against the edge of one of the crates lying around. To say you were shaken was a bit of an understatement, despite not a moment later, the normal smooth flight pattern returning and the ship righting itself. Did Mando hit something? Was some part of the ship on the verge of breaking down completely? You did a quick sweep to make sure none of the weapons lockers were damaged and that nothing was in danger of going ogg. You swore, this man had far too much firepower on board and one day it was going to come back and bite him.

Fortunately, everything was where it should be and the only things really out of place was your now-askew space, and your frazzled self. Huffing, you sped over to the ladder and clambered up to the cockpit to see if you could find out what was going on. On your way up, you could hear the low, modulated voice of Mando speaking, very likely to the child with the tone you could pick up.

“Ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple months, you little womp rat? Nobody’s gonna find us there.”

“Nobody’s gonna find us where?” Your head and shoulders were poking out of the ladder hatch, arms folding over the edge as you gave the pair a pointed look. You weren’t about to let Mando decide where you were going to camp out for months without you giving some input.

The Mandalorian turning to face you with the child in his lap was almost comical, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t expecting to be called out on. You didn’t see any sign of concern over whatever had shaken you down below, so you figured you could bring that up later.

You could see a holomap beyond Mando, though it was too far for you to make out any of the text on it. You dragged yourself the rest of the way into the cockpit, righting yourself and coming to a halt just far enough that you could read the screen.

“An outer rim planet.” He leaned aside and let you read the screen’s details. Sorgan, huh. You vaguely remember that name from when you were compiling planets for Mando back when this whole mess started. The details past that escaped you, though. You squinted as you read on. No populations outside of small settlements to speak of, no starports or anything industrial… and it was one of those planets made up of a single biome - swamp.

To be honest, you weren’t thrilled at the idea of actually camping out for so long in such a place. You were so accustomed to being in places that had somewhat larger settlements, and absolutely more tech than this planet likely had, not just for business but simple things like staying entertained. But you were even less thrilled at the fact that this was a swamp planet. You knew not all swamp planets were the same, but the simple holomap readout didn’t indicate any further details about what kind of swamps it was made up of.

You hope above all things it’s not a bog planet like Nal Hutta. Gaseous atmosphere, skies choked by sickly green clouds, brown water, hardly any land to speak of.

You turned and gave Mando a look. “No information about the biome past ‘swamp’?”

He shook his head in that slow, deliberate way of his. You exhaled through your nose.

“Not a fan of swamps?”

“You could say that.” You turned back to the screen, like staring at it might make it give up more information. Maker , you missed your database.

“How far away are we?”

“Not very, maybe an hour or two.”

You stepped back and fell unceremoniously into one of the passenger seats further back in the cockpit. The child, who had been watching you through this whole exchange, seemed to lose his interest once you sat down and went back to looking curiously around at the controls laid out in front of Mando. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and you started to suspect he had something to do with the ship going sideways earlier. Probably got a hold of the controls somehow.

“I guess I’ll have a better idea of where we’re going once we get a look at the planet.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned back to the controls to pilot you all there.

You had been closer than you anticipated, though it was still not a very short journey. Instead of going back down to the hull, you opted to stay in the passenger seat and simply wait. Jumping to hyperspace was something you had yet to get used to, but after so long of the smooth traveling with the smears of light streaking past the windscreens, you found you could relax a little and rest your eyes.

A jolt in the ship as you exited hyperspace shook you awake. Blinking and sitting up in your chair, you peered out the window at the planet taking up the view.

Deep green. Streaks of blue. White cloud cover. You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the chair back.

“Acceptable?” There was a hint of amusement in Mando’s voice. You smirked at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” You actually were looking forward a little to seeing just what kind of plant life was on this planet. You could see a fair amount of tree coverage, which meant forests. It had been far too long since you’d seen proper forests, let alone been out in one. You had tried to replicate it with your plant corner back home, but it was never the same. Some time amongst real trees would do you good.

The descent had you watching out the window the whole time, surveying the landscape as its features came into view. It had its marshes and rivers, but equal amounts of coniferous forests and solid land. This place could almost pass for an arboreal biome planet in places. You spotted very few settlements on the way in, too, and what you did see looked to be the most basic of small villages.

Mando landed the Razor Crest some ways away from a small market, hidden amongst ample tree coverage. He locked down the controls and lifted the kid with one arm, removing a small silver ball from his clutches to attach to one of the levers in the array.

“I’m going to go out and find us some lodging. Wait here with the kid. Don’t let him touch anything. I’ll be back.”

He passed the child off to you, with such surety that you’d take him that he nearly dropped the little one on you before you could respond. You grabbed him with both hands in a slight panic, thinking he was about to fall, and in doing so your fingers gripped into the gloved ones already supporting his weight. Even with the barrier between skin-to-skin contact, it was awkward and had your face heating with embarrassment that you’d accidentally touched the bounty hunter. He, however, made no indication of any such reaction, damn that helmet making him unreadable. His hands withdrew once it was certain the child was in your grasp safely.

You and the child stared at each other as you held him out before you, like you weren’t sure what to do with him now. He looked back at you with a similar expression, and you swore there was a hint of some sort of mischief underneath it. Oh, he had definitely been the one to make the ship go off-kilter, no doubt now. And knowing your luck, he was going to do more of the same once Mando left. You’d already experienced him trying to eat trash despite you actively watching him, you knew he was capable of more.

Mando descended the ladder into the hold, and the sound of the ramp opening up reached the cockpit. You looked out the windscreen, watching as the Mandalorian appeared in your field of view just as the sound of the ramp closing itself back up sounded.

And that was all it took.

The child turned into a complete nightmare the instant it was clear Mando was gone. It didn’t matter what you did - first he fussed and squirmed to be let down, so you did, and the second you turned your head he had somehow managed to get into the pilot’s seat and was attempting to mess with the controls. Every time you picked him up, he fussed again, wriggling and whining loudly, and whenever you set him back down he went straight for whatever he knew he could get in trouble for. You tried to keep this up as long as you could, which proved to be a pathetic five minutes or so. It was like having an extra-smart, extra-naughty loth cat with thumbs on board.

“Okay, kid. We’re going down to the hold. You can’t accidentally start the ship up down there.” You snatched the kid up under his armpits, and though he continued fussing, it was much less, like perhaps he wanted to be in the hold. You knew that the hold had just as much, if not more, for him to get into trouble with, what with the armory down there, but it was better than possibly starting up the engines and taking off.

You awkwardly climbed down the ladder with one arm latched around the child, and once you reached the floor you set him down, hoping he’d behave a little more. How wrong you were. It was like the kid instinctively knew where the controls for the ramp were, because he made a beeline for that panel - knocking whatever he could out of the way just to accentuate his point - and reached his-far-too-short arms into the air like he could possibly reach it if he just tried hard enough. No amount of you trying to redirect his attention or picking him up to set him down elsewhere worked, he would cry and go straight back to the panel and give you repeated looks with big, desperate eyes, like you were a monster for not understanding he wanted to open the door.

“Mando told us to stay here. So we’re going to stay here until he gets back.”

It was when the loud crying started that you knew you had lost the battle.

That alone was one of your top reasons for not desiring children - you couldn’t handle the noise that came with an upset child. Not for any good parental reason like not wanting to see them sad. You genuinely couldn’t stand the screaming, it set you on edge and made you want to scream in turn. And here one was, cries bouncing off the hull walls and drilling into your eardrums with far more force than you could have imagined possible for something so small.

You rushed as fast as you could towards the control panel and slammed the button to open the ramp.

“OKAY! Okay, okay, you win, we’ll go find him.” You glared down at the kid, whose clear face and perked ears indicated the crying had all been an act. You sighed heavily. He’d only known you for maybe a few days and he already knew how to get you to do what he wanted.

“He’s not going to be happy, you know that, right.” The child just tilted his head at you, smug little face seeming to say “no, he can’t get mad at me”.

You wandered back to your area not too far off to get some of your outerwear on - your belt, your ear piece, your blaster, whatever you might need in the immediate future. The neck gaiter you loosely wore got pulled up to securely cover the lower half of your face - it made you feel more secure, somehow, when you were venturing out into strange places. You picked the kid up and awkwardly shifted him to one arm, making your way down the ramp, and hoping you wouldn’t get into too much trouble with the bounty hunter. The kid, meanwhile, happily burbled in your grasp.

With a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you marched out onto the planet’s surface in the direction you had seen Mando go.

You were right. Mando wasn’t happy at all.

He had been trudging along, lost in his thoughts about what kind of lodging he should be looking for now that there wasn’t just him, but you and a child to account for, but still attentive enough to his surroundings that when he heard what sounded like distant footsteps crunching through the undergrowth he paused.

It was when he heard the sounds of the child babbling and you calling out to him to wait that his wariness turned to mild panic, and he rushed towards where he could hear your voices, hand staying within reaching range of his blaster. What had happened? He told you to stay back at the Crest and yet here you were, with the child. Had you been discovered, and just barely escaped? Was the Razor Crest captured?

He came to a halt just a few feet from you, surveying you and the child for any signs of distress or damage, stance wary and ready for a fight.

“What happened?” His tone was terse, apprehensive.

You looked wryly down at the bright-eyed child in your grasp, and back up at the bounty hunter. Or rather, somewhere in the general vicinity of him, as you found you couldn’t look directly at him.

“He, uh. Was very upset at you leaving without him.”

Mando’s defensive posture deflated and he tilted his head in a way that you knew he was giving you a disbelieving look.

“I told you to stay put, and the kid throwing a fit is all it took for you to leave?” He didn’t miss the way your mouth tightened into a thin line and your brow furrowed.

“He wouldn’t stop trying to be destructive, and when I tried to move him he’d just scream and go for the ramp! Look, I told you I wasn’t the best out there with kids.” You snapped, glaring into the blank visor.

Honestly, he could tell you were disappointed in yourself for caving so easily, and he probably wouldn’t have fared much better with his own lack of experience with children. But you could have been followed, and now the ship was unattended. The child, however, looked content as ever, his plan having worked. He sighed. It was what it was at this point. At least he was still in range that could lock the ship up remotely with his vambrace controls, which he set to doing immediately.

“Come on, then.” He motioned with a hand as he turned back to the direction he had come from, cape swirling around his form dramatically. You exchanged a tired glance with the smug kid, having half a mind to set him down and make him walk the rest of the way to wherever you were going.

“You’re lucky you’re at least a little cute.”

By the time you get to civilization, you’d let the kid down to walk - just beside Mando, and you just behind the child. Two unlikely bodyguards for an equally unlikely “dignitary”. The towering trees thinned out on the edge of the small market center, man-made structures beginning to appear. The buildings were small, mostly made of wicker and wood, with very little in the way of tech. The people were equally simple, their dress and presentation reflecting their rural occupations.

With the interest of the child in mind, Mando led the three of you into a common house, the busy sounds of kitchen work and the smell of grilling food easily reaching you before you even got to the entrance. It would have been more welcoming, if it wasn’t also accompanied by nearly everyone turning their eyes to your odd trio and whispering amongst themselves. On one hand, you couldn’t completely blame them, as the three of you were like the lead-up to a bad joke come to life. But it still made you very uncomfortable, knowing without a doubt that you were being watched and discussed. You hated the feeling. You self-consciously adjusted the fabric masking your face and furrowed your brow to try and give off the most “do not approach” energy you could, glancing around at the tenants. Not many of them returned your gaze, save a few, including one woman who didn’t at all look like she was from there. Strong, wearing armor and weapons - not to the extent of the Mandalorian, of course. But you could still feel that she wasn’t to be messed with. You averted your gaze quickly.

The child, meanwhile, was bright as ever with this new place he was in. He looked around the establishment, taking in the new scenery and the light filtering in through the gaps of the woodwork with his big eyes. You in turn watched him, as Mando located a table for the three of you. You followed suit and sat at the table, and as you turned to see what the kid was up to, you noticed the little one had locked eyes with a tooka cat beneath the chair of a nearby tenant. The child was curious, but you knew enough about tooka cats to know that the way it was looking back meant it was interpreting the child’s staring as threatening to its peace. Very few animals took maintaining eye contact as anything but a challenge, and this was no different.

“Leave it alone, kid.” You murmured just loud enough that you hoped he’d hear. Your words were too late, as the cat’s lips pulled back and revealed its enormous maw of teeth in a menacing hiss. The child flinched back with a frightened noise, and next thing you knew you were snatching him up by the ruff of his oversized coat and plopping him in the seat beside you.

There was barely any time for any of you to exchange glances when a proprietor approached the table, face weathered but welcoming.

“Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth, for the little one.” Mando motioned with his hand towards the child. You suppressed giving the armored man a skeptical look for ordering the most basic of things for the kid, when it was obvious they had more substantial food in this establishment. It was fine, you told yourself, he had the final say and this wasn’t the place to call him out on his decisions.

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty. Can I interest you in a porringer of broth as well?” Mando shook his head. The proprietor turned her gaze to you expectantly.

“No, thank you.” You put your palm out in a placating gesture. Even though the aroma of food filtered through your face covering and had a tempting quality to it, somewhere as public as this was absolutely not somewhere you’d be comfortable trying to eat at. If you could take it to go, maybe. But you had no idea where you’d even be staying at this point, or how much longer you’d be looking for such a place. No, you could wait.

The proprietor nearly began to speak again when Mando cut her off. “That one over there, when did she arrive?”

So, you hadn’t been the only one to notice the intimidating woman across the room. Well, it wasn’t that difficult, with how much she stuck out amongst the residents of the planet. You three were equally as noticeable, and you didn’t miss how the woman was still watching you, though she was trying to be discreet about it. There was wariness coming off of her, you could feel that much.

The proprietor glanced towards where Mando had indicated the strange woman to be, seemingly confused. “Uh, I’ve seen her here for the last week or so.”

Mando continued pressing her for answers she didn’t have. “What’s her business here?”

“Business?” The proprietor looked as confused as ever. “Well, there’s not much business on Sorgan, so I can’t say…” The sound of credits clinking onto the countertop reached in your ears as Mando casually tossed some onto the tabletop. You were too busy watching the woman out of your peripheral vision to pay too much attention to what he was up to. The proprietor mentioned the woman not being a log runner, and offered complimentary spotchka before she left to retrieve the order.

The moment the woman stood and moved to leave the common house, you discreetly rapped your knuckle against Mando’s vambrace. The black T of his visor turned towards you, and you vaguely twitched your fingers in the direction the woman had been moments before. “She’s leaving.” You murmured as lowly as you could so Mando could hear but others couldn’t. You didn’t get any impression of real danger or malice from her, but knowing that the three of you had prices on your heads, you had a feeling the bounty hunter would try to follow her and make sure she wasn’t about to report on your whereabouts to anyone.

Mando stood from his seat, gaze trained on the doorway to the establishment. “Stay here with the kid. I’ll be back.”

And there it was. You exhaled through your nose and looked down at the kid, comically small in his chair and watching as the beskar-clad man made his way to the exit and out of sight.

You wondered how often he went out of his way to pick possible fights like this.

The proprietor returned to the table and placed a small bowl in front of the child, breaking you from your thoughts. The complimentary bottle of spotchka made an appearance, too, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. Alcohol was never something you liked, between it being an acquired taste and dulling your thoughts. You still nodded appreciatively at her before she left to tend to the next table.

Before the kid could finish picking up his bowl, the faintest of sounds reached your ears. While you normally wouldn’t pay much mind to such things in a public place, there was some notion in your mind that it was the buckethead getting into a fight with the woman from earlier. You looked over at your tiny companion, who looked up at you over the brim of his bowl and towards the doorway Mando had left through moments earlier.

“He doesn’t need our help, we’ll just get in the way.”

The kid seemed to take that as a challenge, and hopped down from his seat and began to toddle off.

“Hey, no, we are not going out there-” You jumped up and tried to herd him back towards the table, and you almost succeeded, but the little green thing was surprisingly determined and avoided your awkward movements, both of you caught up in a ridiculous dance. The tenants were watching you and your face heated with embarrassment. You finally scooped up the rapscallion with one arm, narrowly avoiding some of the broth sloshing from his bowl and onto the floor.

“Fine, we’ll go see what’s going on. Just stop trying to run off on me.” You pointed meaningfully at the kid with your index finger, peering into those big dark eyes and hoping he actually listened. He looked back at you with those big bright eyes and perked ears in a way that somehow told you he understood.

You carefully set him back on the ground. “Stay close.”

Exiting the establishment and turning the corner was as far as you needed to go to see just what you suspected - Mando and the woman scrabbling to get the upper hand against the other. It was almost comical, in a way, even though blasters were involved and the situation could very well turn dangerous.

And it nearly did just that when the two fell on the ground with blasters pointed at each other’s heads - causing you to pull your own blaster from its holster - except everything was interrupted by a very loud slurp from the child as he watched from beside you, bowl of broth clutched tightly. The slow turns of their heads and prolonged look from both of them was enough of an announcement of a stalemate as any. You snorted and shook your head slightly at the scene.

“I take it you don’t actually want to kill each other, then.” You slightly lowered your blaster from where it was aimed at the woman. You didn’t miss the way Mando paused in a way that you imagined he was rolling his eyes under his helmet. He turned his attention back to the woman he was still vaguely pointing his blaster at.

“Would you like some soup?”

You all returned to the table you’d had back in the common house. The woman - named Cara Dune, you learned - told you her story. She was a former shock trooper for the former Rebel Alliance working on Endor, with no additional support, and as soon as the ex-Imperials were gone the politics got out of hand and she found herself working to “keep the peace”. Beating rioters and favoring delegates wasn’t what she’d signed up for, so she left, and now had a price of her own for desertion. She recognized Mando as being part of the Guild and suspected he’d come looking for her. She kept glancing curiously at you throughout her explanation, like she wasn’t sure what to make of you tagging around with a Mandalorian bounty hunter and why he was even letting it happen. Sure, the child was an equally puzzling factor, but she seemed to sense he was a touchy subject.

She eventually turned to you after her explanation was finished. “So what’s your story?”

You shrugged, idly adjusting one of your wrist pieces. “He got my house blown up and put me on a wanted list, so this is his way of dealing with the guilt.”

Cara visibly bites back a laugh and tries to hide behind her own cup of broth. You glance over at your companion, whose stiff posture tells you he’s not sure how to react, but he’s definitely embarrassed to some degree.

The ex-trooper downs the last of her broth, and stands from the table. “Well, this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first.” She gives you all a curt nod, and walks away.

Mando leans back in his own chair and looks between you and the kid, who’s working on his second helping of broth. “Well, looks like this planet’s taken.”

The walk back to the Razor Crest was a somber one for you. Now that you had spent some time on the surface, you’d actually taken a bit of a liking to the place. But Mando was right - as remote as this planet was, it could likely only handle one fugitive at a time. Looked like it was back to the ship directory to root through whatever systems it could access. You tried not to let your mind wander off to mourn your lost database again. This was exactly why you compiled lists of multiple options, in case something like this happened and one of those choices fell through.

A tug on your pant leg dragged you from your mulling. You looked down and were met with the concerned face of the child looking back up at you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” The kid burbled quietly at you in response. That seemed to catch Mando’s attention, as he was now looking questioningly back at you.

“Something wrong?”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to come up with a brief answer that wasn’t too revealing. You weren’t big on talking about your feelings, and you got the impression that neither was Mando, so between the two of you it would be better if it was kept to a minimum.

“Feeling a little useless on the front of hunting for a planet, that’s all.” It was the first time you’d felt this useless in a very long time, to be honest, but you weren’t about to let that part out.

Mando turned back to continue the trek back to the Razor Crest. “We’ll figure something out.” His tone was superficially dull, but you could tell he was trying in his own way to sound reassuring. That counted for something.

Once you made it back to the Crest, which was safe and sound amongst the trees, the two of you got to work - the Mandalorian using the dying daylight to look over the ship for maintenance, while you took up the task of sifting through the planetary database for your next options. Originally Mando wanted you to take the child up with you so he’d be better contained, but after a pitiful look from those big, dark eyes, it was over and decided that he’d watch him. The “watching” very quickly turned into “put the kid to bed”, thank the maker.

It felt like you’d had barely any time to really start your search when you saw what looked like lights on the ground from your view in the cockpit. You slowly stood, watching the lights as they drew nearer. That couldn’t be anything good.

You clambered your way down the ladder and into the hold just as whoever it was pulled up. It was a small cargo sled, one that barely seemed to be holding itself together, with two men of seemingly modest origins on it. Mando wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, as he continued his repairs and ignore them as they tried to get his attention.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Mando didn’t stop working. “There something I can help you with?”

You slowly made your way towards the ramp, taking care to accentuate the sound of your boots hitting the floor and make your presence known, Mando could take care of himself, but if they knew you were here they were less likely to try anything than if he were alone. You shot them a warning glare when they glanced at you, but watching their already-anxious expressions deepen almost made you regret doing so.

“Uh… yeah… raiders.” “We have money.”

You raised an eyebrow at them.

“You think I’m some kind of mercenary?” Mando still made no indication he was going to stop his work for them.

That was enough to get them stammering. First about how they’d read about Mandalorians, and how they thought he was one based on his armor, and if half of what they read was true then they could recruit him for help. One emphasized again, that they had money.

“How much?” Mando had paused his working, turning more attention to these strangers.

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill… We’re… krill farmers.” “We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.”

You don’t know what else you were expecting from locals of the planet, but the coin purse one of the men held up as proof of payment was sad to say the least. Krill farming and spotchka brewing didn’t strike you as a very lucrative business anyways, but if that was all they could muster…?

“It’s not enough.” And there was Mando, confirming your suspicions about what his rates were. You didn’t recall him being picky about his bounty, but thinking back, he did go for higher bounties more often than not. It looked like he still held onto that standard despite no longer being part of the Guild. Hell, if you were going by your own rates, what they appeared to have on hand wouldn’t even cover half of your cheapest services.

Mando finished what he’d been doing and made his way up the ramp towards you. The men following him up the ramp was unexpected, but not frightening. They were desperate, and you were getting a better sense of just how much.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.” One of them tried to look to you for support. You stared back apprehensively.

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.” Mando brushed past you, using your form as a barrier between him and the strangers as he retreated further into the hold.

“This is everything we have! We’ll give you more after the next harvest!” You stayed where you were, crossing your arms and staring the men down. You knew you should feel bad for them and try to convince Mando to do something, but with the last time you extended help ending with your entire life up to that point being destroyed, you were too wary to do so.

The two men looked between each other and your standoffish presence. Defeated, they slowly turned to return to their sled, talking to each other as they did.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection to the middle of nowhere.”

Mando had only made it a few feet past you by then, so he was definitely within earshot of their conversation. He stopped and turned on his heel, coming up behind you and stopping just behind your shoulder. It took everything in your power to appear unbothered by just how close he stood.

“Where do you live?”

The men paused, turning back to look at the man that had just dismissed them.

“A farm, weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.” The hurt was apparent in the man’s voice.

“In the middle of nowhere.”

“…yes?” The confusion was palpable. You knew where this was going and you weren’t sure you liked it.

“You have lodging?”

The men started to realize where this was going, too, and jumped to provide answers he wanted to hear.

“Yes, absolutely.” Mando briefly glanced at you, as if he was about to ask what you thought. Unfortunately for you, that never happened and he made the decision on his own.

“Good.” Mando motioned to them. “Come up and help.” He motioned to you as well, and began pulling out cargo crates to have them start loading.

You approached the man, once the other men had carried one of the crates far enough that they’re out of hearing range.

“Mando, I don’t know about this. Middle of nowhere or not, Dune’s right, this planet can’t handle more than one fugitive at a time.”

Mando continued moving crates to the ramp. “If it took them all day to get here, they’ll be isolated enough.”

“That kind of distance from civilization, however small, hasn’t stopped bounty hunters before. You of all people know that.” You glared into the T-shape of his visor. You also knew that all it took was enough time for word to get out about sighting a certain beskar-clad Mandalorian traveling with a green child to reach interested ears. For all you knew, it could be happening right now.

Mando stopped his actions to turn and face you fully.

“We can always move on after the job if it doesn’t seem right.”

You sighed heavily through your nose. That seemed to be him trying to tell you he wasn’t about to change his mind. He had been doing this longer than you, you supposed. You glanced towards the closed door of his bunk, where the child was sleeping.

“…fine. But I’ll hold you to that.”

You briskly moved to where your makeshift corner was and started gathering up your own things for whatever sort of stay you were in for. Behind you, you heard Mando exchange a few more words with the men as they loaded the last of the cargo he’d pushed on them onto the sled.

His heavy footsteps approached you. “I’m going back into town for a while.” You turned, and noticed the pouch of credits that one of the men had shown you earlier clutched in his hand. “Stay here to keep an eye on them and the kid. I’ll be back.”

You stared at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “At least he’s not awake to make me come chasing after you this time.”

You swore you heard a slight snort from beneath that helmet.

He’d returned some time later with Cara Dune in tow, and after rousing the kid the four of you joined the two men on their journey back to their village. The cargo sled, thank the maker, was the only part of the ride, no connections made with another transport like a boat like you were fearing. You didn’t like boats much, the swaying made you anxious. Five people made it a little crowded and awkward, and try as you might to sit as far as you could on some strapped-down cargo, to try and preserve some sense of personal space, you found yourself nearly falling off one too many times.

“That’s a good way to fall off and get left behind.”

You narrowed your eyes as you stared at the beskar-clad man that had basically just talked to you like a parent.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

The way he tilted his head was enough for you to practically see the skeptical look he was no doubt wearing on his hidden face. The kid, sitting beside him, watched you intently.

“Nobody’s doing anything but waiting out the ride.” He pointed to a spot on the cargo just in front of him, where there was definitely enough room for you to fit, though it meant if you tried to stretch your legs out they’d be right alongside his. Clearly, he didn’t care about that if he was doing this.

You stared at the spot like it was a trap. Almost as if to prove a point, the sled went over a particularly pronounced piece of terrain and jostled you. You very nearly fell just like Mando had said you would. The only thing that kept you from going completely overboard was your grip on the cargo’s ties, but you still flopped embarrassingly around. You saw the man’s head tilt to the side as if to say “see?”

Defeated and embarrassed, you clambered down into the open area. Thank the maker Cara Dune had decided to try and get some sleep earlier, and the two farmers transporting you were busy navigating. You didn’t think you could handle having them involved in this, admittedly silly, exchange. You kept your gaze down, not daring to even look up at the Mandalorian. The kid, however, earned himself something between a glare and a smirk when you heard a small giggle come from his direction.

You drew your legs up into your new space, both to keep from invading even more of Mando’s space, and to keep out of the child’s space as well. Mando could handle an accidental kick if you absent-mindedly shuffled; the little green one probably wouldn’t fare so well.

Once you’d settled, you leaned back onto the cargo packed behind you and tried to get as comfortable as you could manage. Which wasn’t much. Mando, however, seemed capable of doing it, as he slowly fell backwards and folded his arms behind his head. You didn’t realize how broad he was until now, seeing up close how much space he took up just by doing that. And all over again, you felt like you were in his space, and needed to get out of it out of respect. But there was nowhere to go.

You had to snort to yourself when the child mimicked the bounty hunter and tipped backwards onto his much-softer surroundings, peering up at the dark sky with equally dark eyes. At least he was content to do that.

The sled ride stretched on for the duration of the night and into the morning, the farmers switching shifts partway through. You’d never really fallen asleep all the way, just dozed in the same position you took when you initially settled in. Your eyes had closed, and you became somewhat less aware of your surroundings, but the slightest of unusual sounds or movements still drew enough attention that you’d crack an eye open to see what was happening. All through the hours of darkness and through the light breaking over the land. So when the sled began to approach the village, you could hear it. The sounds of people working, distant voices. Opening your eyes and pushing yourself upright, you turned to look up ahead. In the distance you could see the beginnings of some sort of settlement.

You shifted your attention to the others on the sled. Cara Dune was still sleeping, though you didn’t know how. Mando and the child seemed to be out, as well. It was harder to tell with the bounty hunter because of his helmet, but the way he laid there was convincing.

Reaching over, you lightly grabbed one of the child’s clawed feet and shook it to get his attention.

“Get up, kiddo.”

He blinked awake, eyes squinting in the morning light and mouth working to remedy having gone dry while he slept with it open the night before. His big eyes shifted around to look for his Mandalorian guardian, body relaxing once he located him.

You weren’t going to try and use touch to see if he was awake, though. That could get you stabbed or shot, what with the combination of his reflexes and waking up in a strange place.

“Mando.” You raised your voice, hoping volume alone would do the trick. Fortunately for you, it did. The man shifted and groaned like he had just come alive, his helmet shifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was looking at you.

“We’re there.”

The armored man slowly drew himself upright into a sitting position. As much as he’d tried to get comfortable, he knew he’d be fighting with a back ache for a while after sleeping like he had. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already dealt with before, with his longer bounty hunts taking him far from his ship and civilization and requiring him to put comfort to the wayside. You, however, had probably not had to relegate yourself to such circumstances. You looked like you hadn’t actually slept, bags present beneath your eyes and a subtle, narrow-eyed scowl he hadn’t seen before on your face. You probably didn’t even know it was there.

The approach to the village was quickly noticed by the villagers, and before you knew it there was a crowd forming to welcome you.

And a lot of them were children.

You could see and hear them immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled through your nose for a moment to steel yourself, both for the crowd and the large percentage of it being so young. You hadn’t even had a chance to really get used to the green child you were tasked with helping out with. And these kids could talk .

The sled came to a stop, the slight jarring motion shaking Cara Dune awake. She looked around, mind working to remember the circumstances that landed her in a strange vehicle with equally strange company.

The first thing the children of the crowd did, was fixate on the child companion of yours in the sled. They were all murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, and the kid looked back at them with equally curious intent. None of you had any idea when he was last around anyone of his mentation.

“Looks like they’re happy to see us.” You heard Mando’s voice crackle through his voice modulator. Cara Dune smiled, but all you could do was blink tiredly. You weren’t ready for this.

One of the children, a girl, broke away from the crowd and got closer to the smaller, green child, greeting him personally. You watched the interaction carefully. She seemed to notice, as she quickly made eye contact and ducked away back into the safety of the other village children.

With that, everyone disembarked the sled and began unloading cargo. You slowly rose from your spot, knees protesting from staying folded for so long and making you grit your teeth. You grabbed the pack you’d brought with you, slinging it over your shoulder and hobbling off of the sled to join the others, who were carrying their respective luggage. The child had been surrounded by the village kids, the curiosity on both sides still strong and outweighing the apprehension of the strangers with him.

It was time to be shown where you’d be staying, though. Without any words exchanged, Mando shuffled over to gather up the child, kids scattering, and you, Cara Dune, and he were led to your accommodations.

The village was modest, but cozy. The huts all had a distinct charm to them, with the same woven look as the common house, and reminding you of fishing baskets. Smoke rose from some, and in the distance you could make out man-made ponds where they likely farmed their krill.

You were all led to what appeared to be a building other than a hut. There’s a woman there, apparently putting the last touches on preparing it for guests. When she sees you approaching, she stops fussing with the blinds and turns to face you. You don’t miss how she’s focused in on the Mandalorian, with some sense of hesitation, like she wasn’t anticipating how meeting a Mandalorian in person would be. You couldn’t blame her, honestly.

“Please, come in.” You let Mando lead, watching him walk in and put his cargo down onto the floor. The woman turned and seemed mildly surprised when you entered as well, like she hadn’t really seen you before when you made your approach. Again, you couldn’t blame her - if you’d never met a Mandalorian before, it would be hard to notice anything else. That, and it made sense that should word get out in the village about a Mandalorian arriving, the last thing anyone would talk about would be his companions.

“I apologize… I didn’t realize how many guests there would be.” She glances briefly at you and the child individually. You began to feel guilty about being there at all. Of the adults that were there, you were by far the least useful for the job involving the raiders, and of the resources available for guests you felt like it would be better to distribute them amongst the others before you. The child, too, you felt deserved things before you did. You didn’t miss him looking up at you with his big dark eyes, as if he could sense your discomfort.

“Is, uh, there anywhere else available—“

“This will be fine.”

You give the beskar-clad man a perplexed look when he cuts you off. You were attempting to give the man his space back, surely he would like that better than having you hole up in the same small building?

“It’s not any different from the ship. We’ll make do.” He was looking back at you through that dark visor as if he had heard your thoughts. You blinked.

“Are you sure?”

The curt nod he gave you told you the conversation was over. Well… as long as he was okay with it.

The woman took that as her cue that she could speak again. “I’ve stacked some blankets over there, I can get more should you need them.” She indicated the area she meant. You nodded appreciatively at her.

There’s a very slight sound from the doorway, and both you and Mando turn to see the girl from before that had been talking to the child. She attempted to hide behind the doorframe, bashful about being noticed, but the woman goes to gently pull her back into sight and gently hold her to her side.

“This is my daughter Winta. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here, she’s not used to strangers.” That explains the extra feeling of being watched you’d felt on top of the village at large watching you, this girl must’ve followed along. The woman turned to face her daughter. “This nice man and his friends are going to help protect us from the bad ones.”

Winta looked shyly at you and Mando, and politely whispered a thank you. The woman took her daughter by the hand, leading her outside. “Come on, Winta, let’s give our guests some space.”

Just like that, you were left alone with your usual companions.

You glanced around, seeing that it was essentially just one open room. That wouldn’t do. Whatever Mando told you, you knew he would appreciate having a space to himself. You, also, would appreciate some semblance of privacy.

Speaking of Mando, he hadn’t moved to unpack at all, he continued to stand in place as he tried to process what he’d gotten himself into. He’d done plenty of jobs, with plenty of clients, but he wasn’t at all used to being treated like a “nice man”, as the woman had put it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fee about it.

His buffering was briefly interrupted when you pushed past him into the barn, and began to root through the blankets that had been left and other supplies that had been pushed off to the side to make space.

“I’m going to build some sort of divide for the room. To at least make it feel like there are two rooms instead of one.” You began draping things over your shoulders and arms as you found them, and looking up at the ceiling and the walls to see what you had to work with. Part of him wanted to tell you to just sit down for now, since he could tell you weren't rested at all from the night before. But he also felt like he wouldn’t be able to stop you from your current activity until you’d finished it. He resigned himself to getting his cargo unpacked.

What he doesn’t know, is you were also trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You had noticed how the woman had briefly paused in the doorway as she left to look back - at Mando, and only Mando. You didn’t know why, but something about it bothered you. Was it a look of apprehension and were you offended on his behalf? No, that wasn’t it. It was some other expression that was subtle and layered and happened too fast for you to read. But it still bothered you. You tried to brush it aside and get to working on your new project instead.

Before long you had constructed a simple set of walls from various things you’d found around - you’d taken some sheets from the pile of blankets, and used them in conjunction with some netting and poles to fix them to the walls and ceilings similar to what you had done with your space back on the Razor Crest. A crib had been provided for the child, and you moved that onto the “half” that you’d designated Mando’s space - the larger section, and the one with the window. Your “half” was more like your “third” of the bar’s interior. Really, you didn’t mind. Mando had been busy unpacking and reconvening with Cara Dune to offer any input until it was done, anyways.

Later in the day, you’d more or less finished unpacking what little you’d brought, and Mando was tending to his rifle. You sat on a crate, idly fussing with the settings on your blaster, musing to yourself if you could possibly bother the bounty hunter in the future for something more substantial.

“Knock, knock.”

The woman from earlier stood at the door with a tray of a few plates of food in hand, her daughter in tow. You could see them, but their attention was turned to Mando and the child, who was standing in his crib. “Come in.” Mando’s voice sounded from beyond the divide in the room.

The woman entered, setting the tray down on a nearby surface and picking up a plate from it. Winta stepped forwards shyly, asking if she could feed the child. Mando wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he didn’t see a problem with it. “Sure.”

You watched from just around the edge of the divide, as the girl first knelt to feed the child, and then asked if she could play with him. Mando seemed just as fond of dealing with kids as you, hearing his sigh and flat “sure” in response. You smirked at that.

Once Mando had set the child on the ground, Winta immediately darted out the doorway with the child in tow. Mando started to protest, but the woman held him back. You didn’t know why, it was such a simple thing and she was coming from a place of experience where he had none, but for some reason… it made you bristle slightly. You felt like she was overstepping her bounds somehow. You shook your head briefly. She didn’t know any better, it was fine.

The woman then reached for one of the plates of food, to set on a surface closer to where Mando had been maintaining his rifle. “I brought you some food, I noticed you didn’t eat out there. I’ll leave it here for when I go.” Mando awkwardly thanked her, and moved to turn away.

You were hoping she would leave, then, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked if she could ask Mando a question. With his approval, she continued.

“How long has it been since you’ve taken that off?”

Oh, the helmet question. That was bound to happen sooner or later, honestly. You hoped she didn’t say anything too intrusive or insensitive.

“Yesterday.”

“I mean in front of someone else.”

The air felt heavy. You couldn’t quite see from your position where he was looking, but you saw him motion through the window towards what might have been the child and Winta, and other children based on the sounds of play you could hear.

“I wasn’t much older than they are.”

The woman sounded almost horrified that he hadn’t shown his face to anyone since then. The bounty hunter protested, saying that after his parents had been killed, the Mandalorians had taken him in and cared for him as their own.

It’s not like you knew what his past was, or what you expected it to be, but hearing it like this was like a punch to the gut. It was a horrible thing for him to have gone through at all, let alone as a child. You arguably had only just been getting to know him, but the fact that this woman he had never met before was able to get this fact out of him at all, let alone such a personal fact, stung. He had told you earlier that he’d trusted you. That should’ve been enough, and should’ve stopped you from having your thoughts run loose like they were.

“...I’m sorry.” The woman sounded genuinely sad.

“This is the way.”

“Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

Finally, she left. It did not escape you, though, that she hadn’t stopped to see if you had been there to let you know that she had brought you some food, as well, as you also had not left to go get food since arriving. That hurt a little bit, but with the way the prior exchange had gone it probably just slipped her mind. It wasn’t her fault. She was being a good host, she still brought it, didn’t she? You could swear, though, that she seemed to feel some sort of draw towards the bounty hunter and was acting on it in small ways. And you could not figure out why it bothered you.

Once she had left completely, you quietly crept out from behind the divide to retrieve your own plate. Mando was still standing before the window, watching the kids playing with the child. The woman now approached the crowd, no doubt to supervise and make sure they weren’t being too rough. You felt his eyes turn to you slightly.

“I uh… I’m sorry. About what happened in your past. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t not hear that part.”

Mando inclined his head for a moment, and then looked back up at you. “It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have told you if it had come up.”

That lifted your mood a bit. Plate in hand, you wandered over to stand before the window, not too close but beside where Mando stood, to watch the kids.

“Looks like he’s having fun.” Mando hummed in agreement, arms folded.

You don’t notice, but the Mandalorian had turned his head ever so slightly to look at you without giving away that that’s what he was doing. He’s usually not the best at reading people, but he could tell that something about the interaction he had just had with the woman had upset you somehow - he also had not missed how she had left after speaking with him and hadn’t tried to see if you were around to speak to you, as well. This was a different kind of upset than what he had seen when you were first on his ship, after your home had been destroyed. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like this now. He realized didn’t like seeing you upset, or to be linked to the reason you were upset.

The two of you stood there for a few more moments, watching the villagers and the child play. You cleared your throat.

“Well, I still don’t like eating around others. I’m going to my ‘room’.” Mando felt a small smile flicker on his face at that, as you left and went back to your area.

Once you were there, you had been about to pick up a piece of the food when you heard the tell-tale sound of Mando’s helmet being removed. You didn’t know if it was the closer proximity or the conversation that had just happened, but you retreated even further into your area until you were as far away as possible, like somehow even being too close while his helmet was off was just as bad as seeing his face.

The job turned out to be much more complicated than any of you had thought. Surveying the woods showed that the raiders were in possession of an Imperial AT-ST, a formidable weapon to have even against trained troops, let alone a defenseless krill farm. Cara Dune was especially off-put by it, having seen the mech in action and barely escaping to tell the tale. Mando, blunt as ever, tried to tell the village’s occupants to just leave and find another place on the planet to farm, but that went over horribly - everyone was angry, saying that he’d agreed to the job and that he should keep to it, that they had lived there for generations and it took so long to even get the farm established, and so on. They insisted they could be taught to fight and help take on the raiders, stubborn in not wanting to leave their homes. Somehow, their desperation won over the bounty hunter and ex-shock trooper, and it was decided that the entire village of twenty-odd people would follow Cara Dune’s instructions to modify the village grounds into a battleground to take down the machine, and the raiders in turn.

The biggest hurdle was teaching the villagers how to fight to begin with. Nobody knew how to deal with hand-to-hand combat. None of them - except the woman, whose name was Omera - knew how to fire a blaster.

That also meant that Mando’s entire arsenal he’d brought along with him would be put to use arming everyone.

While Cara Dune was working with melee training her half of the adults, Mando was overseeing the target practice. You were more familiar with firing a blaster than you were with physical fighting, so you were attempting to help in that department, as well. You had certainly fired off your fair share of one-in-a-million hits in the times you’d even had to use your blaster, but you had no idea how you were able to do it. It was just… an instinct, somehow, that kicked in right at the moment it was needed, and would vanish just as quickly before you could even try to comprehend it. Still, though, you could try.

They were terrible.

Shots were flying and only a small fraction were landing anywhere, and of those, even less were hitting their intended targets. Except for Omera. Every shot she fired landed square in the middle of her target, one after the other. You could see Mando watching her closely, nodding when she turned to look expectantly at him with a slight smile.

It makes you grit your teeth and you don’t know why. He’s allowed to be impressed by someone from a backwater planet being good with a blaster. He was allowed to be impressed by her tenacity to defend her village. He was allowed… and whatever this strange feeling was that you had, wasn’t allowed to get in the way. That was up to him.

You had been walking between the villagers, giving them pointers on how to better aim, but once you’d noticed what you had with the widow and Mando, something shifted in you. And unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching you, probably more than he had been watching Omera. Your eerie accuracy with your own blaster when you fired off and hit the targets, the way you went from person to person to curtly correct their poise, the way your eyes flashed as you stood back and looked from trainee to trainee with a calculating, concentrated look to determine who needed fixing where. This was a new side of you he hadn’t seen. It was intimidating… but in a good way. He caught himself being confused by his own thoughts, and reminded himself sternly that he needed to concentrate on training everyone and getting things ready.

That night, the plan would be executed. Luring the raiders out, having the villagers go hand-to-hand with the raiders while Mando and Cara Dune took care of downing the AT-ST. You hoped it would work.

In the weeks following the successful defeat of the raiders and destruction of their AT-ST, you stayed put in the village. You and Mando and the kid didn't have anywhere better to be, and Mando still stood by it being a good place for waiting out the hunt going on for the kid. Unlike Mando, though, you didn't feel completely safe. You still felt like it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. The raiders didn't all get killed, and though they probably hadn't laid eyes on the child, let alone the village's children in general, it would have been difficult for them to miss the beskar-clad man that they went up against. Word was going to get out.

Mando wasn't convinced. There was nothing besides your sense of unease to indicate that sort of thing would happen, and he needed more substance than that to act. And so, you were stuck there for the time being.

So you tried to make do with living during that time.

Mando spent his time being the quiet watchman of the village, keeping his weapons he'd brought along in top condition just in case. It couldn't hurt to stay vigilant. And it helped you be more at ease to know he hadn't completely shrugged off the possibility of danger.

And when he wasn't cleaning his weapons for the millionth time, or making sure the child wasn't getting into too much trouble with the village children, he was watching you.

He noticed the way you'd go sit out at the far edge of the village clearing, by the edge of the water beneath the shade of the trees, scribbling things in the odd flimsiplast book you'd brought along with you. He got curious one day and wandered over to where you were, making the excuse that he was patrolling the perimeter and just happened to be passing by you on his way. He got to see what it was you were doing - you were sketching the huts and ponds, as well as the trees and animals, making notes beside them. You didn't limit your note-taking to sitting out on the edge of the village, either, sometimes you stayed amongst the buildings and watched the locals and made notes about them.

There were more than a few times that the child would break away from the village kids and watch you, too, and there were times you'd tear a page out and let him scribble on it alongside you. It was endearing to watch, though he'd never admit it, how intensely focused the little one would be on mimicking you during those times. He saw you do your best to be social when the rest of the kids would inevitably crowd around the two of you and watch what you were doing, and begin asking questions. They did that to him, too, with his weapons, and he would try to tell them stories he remembered hearing as a child himself. You didn't seem to tell them stories, so much as just facts about how this or that worked, or how things are different on other planets in this or that way. They still seemed to take it in just as well.

When you weren't note-taking, or trying to avoid being swarmed by curious children, you'd be in the village kitchens, taking advantage of having proper cooking facilities outside of the makeshift space on the Razor Crest and trying out local ingredients and recipes. The child was frequently your taste-tester, and he loved every bit of it. There were times that he'd take a bite of something you'd made, and instead of downing the rest of it, he'd look around for Mando, and upon spotting him he'd hurry over with the food in hand, waving it up at him as if to say "try it". He would, of course, wait until he was in the privacy of his own space, but he'd always try it. He had to admit, though he knew the locals had been working with the ingredients for generations and were by no means bad cooks, there was something about your cooking that he liked better. He knew you'd brought along some of your own spices and that you put your own spin on things, but it was deeper than that and he didn't know why.

He notices that though you try to converse with the locals when appropriate, you frequently retreat to be in his presence and just sit quietly. It starts as you just going back to the barn and him happening to also be there, but over time it evolved into you actively seeking him out in moments where he was apart from the others, wherever that may have been. It was… nice.

It was also nice that, on some nights where neither of you could sleep, you would wind up quietly talking about this or that through the makeshift wall in the barn that divided your sleeping areas. The conversations were about mundane things, never lasted long, and were always quiet because of the sleeping child nearby. But it was a new thing for him that he found he liked. For so long he had traveled alone and in complete silence, and while there was still a degree of silence and separation between the two of you, it was different.

The villagers seemed to act like you would just stay there forever. Names were learned, bits and pieces of life stories were swapped, some degree of familiarity was established.

There was absolutely no way anyone could miss how attentive Omera had become to ensuring you all were still tended to, but especially in regards to Mando. He was civil in return, and you swear he had started to open up to her and go beyond just being polite. You, also, did your best to be civil towards her, but it was difficult for some reason. It was not your place to decide who was allowed to be friends with who, or how they responded to such actions. Not your place to feel put off by another person getting close to arguably the only person you knew beyond vague acquaintance-ship.

And this didn’t just feel like someone building a friendship, either. You did not know why it bothered you as much as it did. But here you were.

One day, you, Mando, and Cara Dune were all on the porch of the barn, lounging for lack of a better word. Cara Dune sat reclined in a chair, you on the edge of the porch, and Mando casually leaned back against the wall of the barn. He looked very relaxed and it took you a little more effort than normal not to just stare at the rare sight.

And then Omera appeared.

She had been in the barn doing some tidying up, as hosts do. As she exited, she handed a cup of spotchka to Cara Dune, who thanked her, and then she turned to Mando.

“Can I set you something in the house?” She briefly turned her vision towards you, to indicate the offer was extended to you as well, but it went right back to the bounty hunter before you could answer.

“Uh… thank you. Maybe later.” He mumbled his answer, awkward as ever. The woman looked back at you, and you shook your head to her offer, not daring to try and open your mouth. She seemed satisfied with that, and turned to watch the village children playing with the child. He’d captured a frog, and wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth and trying to swallow it like a vine snake. The children laughed and groaned in amused disgust. The frog turned out to be too big for the little one and he spat it out, and everyone cackled as the frog hopped away, no doubt startled by nearly being eaten.

“He’s very happy here.” Omera’s voice broke the silence on the porch.

“He is.” The bounty hunter’s voice responded.

“Fits right in.” And with that, the widow walked away. You watched her leave with narrowly-disguised distaste on your face. The kid was still a target for all you knew, and that little comment implying he should continue to stay just made you realize how little they understood about the consequences that could come their way should the hunters find him. Being able to actually be a child was good, yes, but not at the expense of having another event similar to the raiders, one they wouldn’t have time to plan for.

Apparently, Cara Dune had some thoughts of her own.

“So what happens if you take that thing off?” She nodded at Mando, indicating his helmet. “They come after you and kill you?”

Your distaste turned to her next.

“No, you just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara scoffed at his answer. She looked at you to see if you thought it was as ridiculous as she did, a smirk on her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, and her smirk faded a bit. You’d known, and you respected his cultural beliefs not to badger him like she was trying to do.

“I was gonna say, if that’s it, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all for you to just slip it off and take up living here, raising the kid and sipping spotchka.” She motioned in the direction Omera had left with her glass.

“The beautiful young widow would be more than happy to help with that.” She looked back at you. “Am I right?”

Your skin felt like it would scramble right off your body.

Somehow, hearing Cara Dune confirm that she, too, had seen Omera’s interest in Mando made it all too real in your mind. And she wouldn’t be making such comments if she didn’t think Mando had similar feelings, either.

Why did it bother you so much?

You heard your name, realizing she was actually waiting for an answer from you.

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice was quiet and clipped, a poor attempt to keep your feelings veiled. Cara Dune finally noticed your tense posture, the discomfort very apparent in the line of conversation she’d started up.

She immediately regretted her teasing about the widow. Unlike you and Mando, she was actually able to read people. Mando may have been oblivious to it, but she could see now that you were more fond of the bounty hunter than she initially thought. She’d sensed some sort of dislike towards Omera from you, with how brief you kept your interactions with her, but this made it make sense. Kriff, you were probably oblivious to it, too.

Mando’s modulated voice brought her back to the present. “You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks ago. It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. You might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes. “Finally.” You’d only been trying to convince him to do that the moment you’d chased the raiders off. “I thought it was going to take bounty hunters actually showing up to get you to make that decision.”

You swiveled where you sat to look at the man pointedly. He shook his head lightly. You could almost hear the good-natured smirk under his helmet. You couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your mouth yourself.

As forward as Omera was with hinting her interest towards Mando, Cara Dune thought, you weren’t too bad of a companion choice for him, either. You might not be the worse of the two, either, as far as the dynamic between you. As long as the buckethead wasn’t alone.

She looked back to where the kids were all playing. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s gotta tell him that it’s time to leave.”

“I’m leaving him here.”

You and Cara Dune stared at him.

“Traveling with me… that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life here.”

No. You weren’t going to let him decide that easily.

“Mando. Do I need to remind you that the kid is being hunted as much as you are?” He started to protest, but you continued, standing up from your seat to face him fully, crossing your arms. “And, like you said, the fight with the raiders will have drawn attention. We sure didn’t kill them all, some got away. ‘Word travels fast’.”

Mando stared back, at a loss for words, and looked to Cara Dune for backup. She only shrugged, indicating you had a point.

“...if anyone was going to come, they would have done so by now.”

You dropped your arms to your sides, an incredulous expression on your face. Really? Really?

“Mando-”

He held up his hand to stop you. Such a simple motion shocked you enough to derail your thoughts. He really wasn’t changing his mind, was he…? Was he that ready to leave the kid behind?

Was he that ready to be rid of you …?

Leaving the child here meant your current “job” would no longer exist. It meant having to figure out where to go next, how to start next.

You weren’t ready for that.

You looked down at the wood flooring of the porch. You couldn’t figure out how to argue back in a way that didn’t sound selfish. Defeated, you turned away from the beskar-clad man and faced away, looking at the children playing again.

Mando truly felt like this was the best option for the child at this point. He wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable parental figure, and per your own admission you didn’t do well with kids, either. The kid needed other kids to be around, adults that were willing and happy to raise him. You needed to be able to actually settle down somewhere you could rebuild. This tiny village, with its lack of technology, wasn’t it, and it wasn’t on his cramped ship with his stubborn self, either. You deserved better. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid, or to you, but it wasn’t about what he wanted.

The three of you solemnly watched the child play with the other village children.

“It’s gonna break his little heart.” Cara Dune muttered.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You didn’t want to agree with him, on that last line. But he was right.

Everyone had finished packing, all that was needed was for it to be loaded onto the cargo sled. The air felt weighted, and it wasn’t from the humidity of the surrounding swamp.

For you, the air got even more oppressive when you saw Mando approach Omera and lead her slightly away from the others to speak to her. You knew he was just asking her to watch after the child. But you could see the way she was looking at him. You could see Mando fidgeting, almost shyly. You could feel your face get tingly. Why was this so hard for you? It wasn’t about you.

You couldn’t hear the exchange, but you could tell Omera was saying something back at him, and the way her expression changed, you almost felt like she was asking him to stay, too.

But then, pulling you from your wallowing in self-pity, you felt the same thing you’d felt back at your old home, just before the bounty hunters broke through and your life as you knew it ended. The intense, physical feeling of wrong, of something in your head thrashing about telling you to run. Telling you to grab the kid and run.

They were here.

You sprinted towards where the village kids were, focusing in on the child, drawing your blaster.

"Mando!”

Whatever had been happening between Mando and Omera was forgotten, the widow spinning around to see what the shouting was, and Mando falling into a defensive stance, hand going to his blaster handle.

Your timing couldn't have been better. As you skidded to your knees to grab the frightened child, the village children scattering in confusion and fear, blaster fire rang out and a scorched blast marked the earth right where he had been sitting. You ran in a crouch to hide behind the nearest barrier you could get to, in this case some of the cargo that had yet to be loaded. The child whimpered and clutched at your clothing, and you clutched him closer, blaster raised in your other hand in case you needed to peek around and return fire.

You heard chatter from the other adults, and peering around the corner of the cargo, you see Cara Dune and Mando rush off int the trees. Omera is quickly herding the children to safety. You stay where you are, slumping against the back of the cargo, knowing Mando won't let whoever's out there get away. You look down at the kid in your grasp, who is looking back up at you with those dark eyes you'd gotten used to.

"I told him it wasn't safe here."

Just as you had warned him, the shots had come from someone carrying a tracking fob for the child. Cara Dune had seen to the demise of the hunter, and the tracking fob was destroyed. If it had been a different situation, you would have been more smug about being right.

But as it currently stood, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could.

The cargo sled was fully loaded, with additional supplies beyond what you’d brought with you, and the child was seated up where he could see out. You sat close by, not wanting to chance having to make a dive for him again. You hadn’t anticipated being so protective, but here you were. The village gathered around to see you off. Cara Dune offered to escort you back, but the decision was made to completely bypass going through town and just go straight to the Razor Crest. For once, you agreed with this decision.

“Well then, until our paths cross.” the two exchanged a firm handshake. She looked back and nodded at you, and you returned it with a raised hand. It was good to know you had an ally out there now.

You’d anticipated leaving by then, but when Winta rushed forward you had to suppress a groan. You were so ready to leave behind the other kids and yet here they were again, prolonging the goodbye process. With little regard for any sense of personal space, she wrapped her arms around the child in a hug. You leaned away a little to give them room. You didn’t expect her to release the child and give you a hug, too.

“I’ll miss you so much.”

You were frozen, your mind having drawn a blank and your body unsure of what to do. It took you a few moments to regain your senses, and you awkwardly put your hands on her shoulders.

“Uh… us too.” She pulled back and gave you both a shy smile, and scampered away back to stand by her mother.

Omera smiled and nodded at you in farewell. You tried to do the same, but you couldn’t guarantee your smile looked anything other than awkward and forced. You were terrible at this.

“Thank you.”

Mando nodded at her as well, and finally, he boarded the sled, and you left the small village.

It was strange, you’d only been on the Razor Crest for a few days before the stay on Sorgan happened and took up the following few weeks of your life, but somehow the ship felt more like home than the village had.

The three of you all sat in the cockpit area of the ship, Mando at the controls, you sitting in one of the chairs with the child in your lap, you idly letting him mess with your hands.

Now that it was just you three, your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“So, Mando… what was Omera saying to you before the bounty hunter attacked?”

Mando flipped a few more switches and dials on the controls and sat back in his chair. “She was suggesting we stay, too.” You mean she was suggesting you stay, you thought to yourself.

“...if the hunter didn’t show, would you have?”

He turned to look at you. “Would you?”

You huffed. “I liked being in the trees, but… too remote for my taste. Too closely packed. Too many kids trying to see what I was doing.” Too much of Omera trying to be friendly with the Mandalorian. You didn’t say that part, though.

He turned back to face the windscreen. “If I had wanted to settle down somewhere, I would have done it years ago.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m not interested in living the sedentary family life.”

Somehow hearing him say that took a huge weight off your mind. But that still didn’t answer the selfish, nagging question you still had.

“Did you like her?” You still didn’t know why you cared so much. But while your courage was up and you were on this train, you had to get it out. Mando’s head tilted in your direction slightly.

“She was… nice. But I don’t think I liked her at all the way she liked me.” He turned back to look at the expanse of space before the ship. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was glad that you all got out of there before he had to tell her that. He wasn’t as oblivious as some thought, he could definitely tell that the widow was harboring some kind of affection towards him. He just didn’t feel the same way back, though. He never did. Besides, even if he did, his idea of how to live was so different from hers that it just wouldn’t work. Living on a farm, having and raising kids, staying in one place? Absolutely not.

You looked down at the child in your lap, tugging on his claws that clutched your fingers, trying to hide the little smile of relief on your face. He perked his ears at you and babbled, seeming to sense you weren’t as weighed down as before.

“You could’ve been free to go start your infochanting back up somewhere, though.” You looked up, a little surprised at the slightly quieter tone to Mando’s voice.

He had come to appreciate your company, but he wasn’t about to directly admit it.

You shook your head and huffed. “Honestly? I don’t mind.”

You looked back down at the kid, gently grabbing the ends of his long ears and fussing with them, making him squeal.

“I’m kind of glad to be back on this bucket of bolts with you.”

You hadn’t made any indication of it, but Mando liked to think you were talking to him just then, and not just the child. Hearing those words stirred something in his chest, and though he couldn’t pin down what it was, he wouldn’t mind feeling it again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #din djarin #mando #reader insert

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